'La Strada'

I'm officially crushing on Giulietta Masina. It just took 50 years after her prime. Plus, the 50 years that she was married to Federico Fellini.

Of course, because she was clearly pretty dedicated towards her ultra-creative husband and they seemed pretty in love to put up with each other for that long.

However, if I were married Masina, there's really no way I could really be mad at her. She'd just put on that clown make-up and a do a song and I'd be perpetually happy with her. She has an unfair advantage.

La Strada is further evidence that Masina is just about the cutest thing in the world. She died in 1994, about a year after Fellini. The only individual to come close is Audrey Tautou, but Masina would've never have been in Da Vinci Code.

Masina's ability light up any room plays directly into her stories. Stories about good people, who are only looking for someone to hold onto and to love. There's that longing that oozes out of Masina's characters. That's why we love her.

'Pierrot Le Fou'

A recent movie that made a gigantic dent in how movies are made and viewed is Avatar.

I have not seen this movie to date. Eventually, I'm sure I will. I'm not looking forward to this. I just don't think you can go in and throw a ton of money into making something look good and let the story and characters fall off because of it.

It insults the intelligence of the viewer. And it insults the really good movies with good stories that never get any credit in the award circles or amongst the typical filmgoer.

Up is already six times the film Avatar is, and I haven't even seen the latter.

In the 1960s, filmmakers also made very visually appealing films. However, they didn't forego on the story and characters. Pierrot Le Fou fits this description.

A zany, Technicolor Bonnie and Clyde, set in the French countryside dealing with gangsters and large bags of money.

It was filmmaking at its absolute zenith in terms of creativity and not having to depend on a billion dollar budget in order to creative a box-office masterpiece.

I can not sit here and support Avatar when most haven't seen Pierrot Le Fou, Nights of Cabiria, La Strada or 400 Blows.

'Targets'

While discussing the film Contempt by Jean-Luc Godard, I brought up the circumstances surrounding Fritz Lang's cameo as himself.

In the film, Lang is himself, the great German director. Jack Palance is an American producer hiring Lang. He also hires Michael Piccoli to write the film. Piccoli's girlfriend is Brigitte Bardot.

So, Lang is himself, but wouldn't Lang also know who Bardot was? And Palance? However, we're forced to suspend our belief that Lang may indeed know Bardot and Palance, but that both of them are doing a film elsewhere, or vacationing in the south of France.

But, as it is, Lang only know Jeremy Prokosch (who looks eerily like Palance) and Camille Javal (who is strikingly similar to Bardot).

With that said, in Targets, Boris Karloff portrays Byron Orlok, an aging film actor known for his roles in the horror genre, where he's made a living playing fictional "monsters." Karloff is portraying someone, who is basically a mirror of himself.

So, why didn't Peter Bogdanovich just name Karloff's character "Boris Karloff"? It would've made a bit more sense.

"Pee-Wee's Big Adventure'

In 1,000 years, do you think our ancestors will "get" Pee-Wee Herman.

He's a man-child living an easy-as-it-goes lifestyle, with no discernible job, but the ability to have a pretty neat apartment, the time to set up the "Mousetrap"-like breakfast contraption, a pretty awesome bike, a stale wardrobe, a woman that's still interested in him and a whole stable of friends that love and support him unconditionally.

We have no history or reason as to why he's like he is. Herman has no real story or talent. If anything, he's an obnoxious eight-year-old boy in a red bowtie. Of course, the man behind Pee-Wee would get caught jacking off in a movie theater.

It would not shock me if future humans didn't quite get Pee-Wee.

As a historical note, Big Adventure was a huge financial boon as it cost them only about $7 million to make. Tim Burton was a nobody at the time. Once the success of Big Adventure came through, he balked at doing Big Top and the studio gave Burton the keys to the Batman film, which would blow the socks of everyone.

Burton's career, clearly, has certainly grown since.

'The Celebration'

The Celebration is the first Dogme 95 film.

The genre was began in the Danish filmmaking ranks by Lars von Tier and The Celebration director Thomas Vinterberg.

It's a direct rejection of expensive, shallow Hollywood films. Here are the rules, according to Wikipedia:

1. Filming must be done on location. Props and sets must not be brought in. If a particular prop is necessary for the story, a location must be chosen where this prop is to be found.

2. The sound must never be produced apart from the images or vice versa. Music must not be used unless it occurs within the scene being filmed, i.e., diegetic.

3. The camera must be a hand-held camera. Any movement or immobility attainable in the hand is permitted. The film must not take place where the camera is standing; filming must take place where the action takes place.

4. The film must be in colour. Special lighting is not acceptable (if there is too little light for exposure the scene must be cut or a single lamp be attached to the camera).

5. Optical work and filters are forbidden.

6. The film must not contain superficial action (murders, weapons, etc. must not occur.)
Temporal and geographical alienation are forbidden (that is to say that the film takes place here and now).

7. Genre movies are not acceptable.

8. The final picture must be transferred to the Academy 35mm film, with an aspect ratio of 4:3, that is, not widescreen. Originally, the requirement was that the film had to be filmed on Academy 35mm film, but the rule was relaxed to allow low-budget productions.

9. The director must not be credited.

Clearly, just watching The Celebration and not realizing it was a "Dogme 95" production, it's extremely evident that this was the case. There's no music outside of the piano written into the film. It's all handheld and all very low quality compared to the behemoth films being made today on hi-def and digital. At times, the film looks like it was shot through a glass.

Vinterberg also went as far to have the actors hold the camera in order to get the shots while keeping everything handheld, most notably during the speech scenes and when Christian passes out.

Of course, Vinterberg did admit to breaking the rules (in the first of its kind) by covering a window, which affected the light and used a prop.

Apart from all the DYI bullshit that went towards making it, it's a really good film.

Although, I do have a gripe with the DVD cover art. It shows Christian with a soul patch that stretches down to the bottom of his chin. In the film, Christian has no facial hair. Couldn't we get a photo of him as it was in the film?

'Patton'

There are several things that I regret don't exist anymore:

The town mad scientist and the popular general.

Truth be told, there's a good chance that towns never had actual mad scientists and that this is a product of pop culture.

But the popular army general did exist and it exists no longer.

It's one thing to have a household name like Arnold Schwarzkopf did during the first Middle East excursion. But there was once a time when the men at the highest level of military service were being elected president.

In fact, the first, George Washington, was a general of an army. It didn't stop going through Andrew Jackson, Ulysses S. Grant and Zachary Taylor. If you do a little research, a vast majority of our presidents have done quite a bit of service, only recent inclusions putting forth minimal service. Remember, Jack Kennedy's P-boat was blown out of the water in World War II.

In fact, the longest stretch to not have a president with military service was from William Toward Taft (could you imagine his pudgy body being missed by a bullet?) through Franklin D. Roosevelt. That's six presidents and a ton of years since the high commander had no military experience.

This is not about presidents, it's about generals. The last general to be elected to the highest of posts is Dwight Eisenhower, who was good buddies with George S. Patton.

During World War II, a number of high-profile names became everyday fixtures in the American lexicon. Ike, Patton, MacArthur, Marshall, Bradley and Clark. These people were superstars and heroes. Everyone loved them and most men wanted their sons to become them.

We elected them to posts in our government. We named plans after them. And we immortalized them in film, warts and all.

Patton had a lot of warts. Still, I don't think he was a bad guy. More of a strong guy. Per the slapping incident in which he slapped an enlisted man for cowardice (this actually happened twice ... but the movie just included one incident). It makes sense, however. Here's a guy who's scared shitless whilst all around him are guys that are just as scared, but they have missing limbs, life-threatening injuries and all other sorts of problems.

Patton may have been a son of a bitch, but he was the kind of son of a bitch that you wanted on your team.

The general of this ilk is no more. There aren't enough wars and the fact of the matter is that war is just too uncool. And that's OK, too.

'E.T. the Extra-Terrestial'

My first exposure to E.T. was as a child, but it had nothing to do with watching the movie.

As far as I can remember, my aunt who lived in Dayton, Ohio had this pretty awesome basement-type gameroom. I call it a basement, but it was positioned, decorated and functioned as just another part of the house. As if the house were built as a three-story, but the second story is the one even with the door to the house.

It had lush, red, shag carpeting. Fancy-looking black furniture. A pool table. A large TV with Atari 2600 hooked up. A bathroom. And an inordinate amount of E.T. paraphernalia.

Stuffed animals, pillows, figurines, lunch boxes, posters -- I first remember seeing all of this at six, four years after the movie was released and another two or three before I actually watched it.

Honestly, E.T. kind of scared the shit out of me as a little kid, before I saw the movie. Aliens made me uneasy as a kid. In fact, I was pretty highly strung having worried about the economy, gangsta rap music and aliens. I don't know why.

Re-watching this film, several things pop out:

1. The amount of times Elliot screams. Christ. Get a grip. He's constantly screaming and yelling over every little thing that happens in his life.

2. The celebration of the bicycle. I assume that in the 1920s, kids took great pride in their bicycles. However, some time in the 1980s, bicycle envy and coolness became a huge thing. Owning a 10-speed was hot shit. BMX was huge. Huffy was OK when you were younger. Performing wheelies and making homemade ramps were what you did as a kid in the 1980s.

I blame E.T. Or it had a huge part in making the bicycle a status symbol instead of a way to get around.

'Chariots of Fire'

Running interests me.

Basically, I like it because it's man at its most primitive of fitness and sport.

As humans, we have little contact or comparison to humans that lived 2,000, 4,000 or 10,000 years ago. It's beyond night and day. They couldn't function in our world; we couldn't function in theirs. Our life would be unrecognizable to them.

Except for running. If we took a human that lived 8,000 years ago to the summer Olympics nad showed them some track and field events, they would understand everything.

Not that they had Olympic games. But they ran. They threw spears and stones. They jumped over things and jumped high and far.

Running, especially, are humans at our most human. Even if the likes of Usain Bolt are doing the running despite looking like giants.

I like that Chariots of Fire came out in the same year as Gallipoli -- similiar in that both had World War I as a backdrop and both had white guys running fast. Ten years later, Jesse Owens would have all of them on their asses.

I liked this film a lot. It had a lot of moving pieces that never quit moving to give some unnecessary explanation and allowed the viewer to figure things out for himself. The British must be very proud.

'Dracula'

I wonder what Bram Stoker would say if he knew and could fully comprehend what his book has done.

It's created a multi-billion dollar industry based on a mythical creature that doesn't exist and probably never did.

Without Stoker and his story, there's about six dozen fewer films. "Twilight" doesn't exist or is at least 95 percent less popular. "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" doesn't exist and Alyson Hannigan's career is officially in jeopardy and Sarah Michelle Gellar's just another pretty face.

There's nothing in pop culture like the vampire myth. I've always thought that people in developed nations are entirely more prepared for alien or zombie invasion due to books and movies. No matter that either are practically out of the realm of reason.

Thanks to pop culture (and, thus, Stoker) we're entirely more able to identify and kill a vampire. I would bet most people don't know the origins of a werewolf, zombie, Frankenstein's monster, mummy or any other unreal horror character. But vampires are different.

Anyone's who has lived or breathed films knows exactly the ins and outs of being a vampire.

My other thought about vampires deals with supermarket tabloids. Stand in line in your local grocery store and you'll see a half dozen tabloid, celebrity magazines. There's another 10 headlines on each. Some seem out of this world. However, if you want to get at least the very minimum of truth, just read one of these tabloids. In each, there's a strain of truth, no matter how small.

Consider the vampire. With all the books, movies and allusions throughout the years, wouldn't it stand to reason that there's at least a tiny amount of truth to it?

Maybe there isn't a Dracula or vampires that are immortal and are fearful of religious items such as a crucifix and holy water.But at some point, there was a group or individual that gave this legend some truth or basis. All of this can't exist without it. I'm convinced.

'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?'

Living in the middle of nowhere with limited movie-going opportunities, getting to see Who Framed Roger Rabbit? was an extreme joy. I still remember it vividly despite it being 21 years ago (shit, I'm old).

I also remember well not understanding the film. I didn't know what "framed" meant. Much of the 1940s lingo and culture was lost on me. The plot was a little too much for my eight-year-old brain.

I just liked the cartoons. And I especially loved the end with all the cartoons together.

I'd eventually understand everything about the film as I grew up, especially all of the sexual innuendoes.

I recently interviewed Max Howard, an animation administrator with the film. He talked about the dozens of really dirty things the animators put in the film, in honor of the old animators who would purposely draw Betty Boop's dress to high to show her goods.

Rumors were that the Laserdisc of Roger Rabbit shows Jessica Rabbit's junk. If this were entirely true, then we would have all seen it by now.

The story behind the making of the film is fascinating. The pre-production with getting funding for a half-cartoon, half-real preson movie. Getting all of the companies to "lend" their characters to Disney for them to make even more money.

The film is overly original itself. The interaction between the cartoons (and their world) with real people is an interesting concept. Where giant hammers or anvils are accessible in the cartoon world, they're not what humans typically carry around. These being corporeal things to humans seems like the natural thing if some "cartoon world" existed.

This is a very, very good film. But it's better with a little age.

'I Walked With A Zombie'

Interestingly, this film was developed from the title. Has this every happened? How hard would that be.

If you started with There Will Be Blood, how do you write a story about an oil tycoon? I guess it's a matter of an earlier age when you didn't necessarily make titles cute or thought provoking. You named a movie after the book or whatever the movie is about.

These days we have to be cute or edgy. Like Maid in Manhattan. It's about a maid.

Ironically, I Walked With A Zombie isn't about zombies in the traditional sense and since this was probably the first ever zombie movie, it's also ironic that the "traditional" connotation of a zombie is not based on the original, pop culture reference.

The "zombie" in the film is actually a catatonic woman, who may or may not be dead (and thus, may or may not be a zombie ... as zombies are dead) or may or may not be being voodooed by the local African slaves.

I actually don't know if this is every really cleared up. I mean, the story gets really convoluted as things take place and the writing is so bad that by the end, you really don't know what happened. Other than the non-zombie dying. Now she can be a real zombie.

'Candyman'

I wonder what our fascination is with the horror or slasher film?

Generally, we avoid otherwordly ne'er-do-wells with machetes, hooks, chainsaws and razors for fingers.

This is especially true if they are incapable of really dying, exist in our dreams or are bitter about dying in the first place.

Living is pretty cool, too.

So, why is it that we keep watching these films? They've existed since the media began (Les Vampires, Nosferatu). To a less-gory degree, Edgar Allen Poe were writing such stories in the mid-1800s.

Still, we keep coming back for more.

I think we like the adrenaline that runs through our bodies as we see other people running for their lives and the sheer orgasmic horror as we try to escape the clutches of a merciless sociopathic murderer for them.

Also, there's always some kind of bit. If it's the Saw guy, he sets up some kind of game or psychological test.

Maybe it's stumbling along in a hockey mask or the skin of someone else. Using a chainsaw or some sort of weapon. Maybe it's their wardrobe or having hundreds of pins sticking out of your head.

Either way, we'll never see another film about a real mass murderer outside of Silence of the Lambs and it ceases to be just weird, a game or even a movie. A Jeffrey Dahmer or John Gacy biopic would never, ever work. People want their horror to be utterly ridiculous.

'The Spirit of the Beehive'

This film was released in the waning years of the Franco dictatorship, which regularly censored and nixed a number of films considered critical of the regime.

How this one snuck through is a mystery.

Where the censors asleep? Didn't they realize this was a gigantic allegory for the Franco governement and Spain as a whole? Because it was pretty freaking clear that Victor Erice was making a pretty big statement.

Is it easy to enjoy a film that's entire purpose is allegorical? Hardly. This is a very beautiful film. The cinematography was perfect and it didn't take much for it to turn into an aesthetically pleasing film.

It's just, there's no story because Erice is too busy kicking Franco and Co. square in the nuts. I kept feeling I was missing out on quite a bit because the silence and looks were screaming at me and I couldn't quite figure it all out.

Still, a fine movie.

'All The President's Men'

This is a fantastic film. Ironically, I was a journalism major without ever having seen the film before this week. Still, I could imagine why a lot of individuals were prodded into entering the field after viewing it.

There's a ton of interesting production notes about this film. Robert Redford bought the rights to Woodward and Bernstein's book of the same name with the plans on a $5 million film.

The first script was disliked by everyone involved. Bernstein and his love, Nora Ephron, wrote another script but it was scrapped by Redford.

To prepare, Hoffman and Redford spent months in the Washington Post editorial offices. The Post, itself, shipped a massive amount of bric-a-brac to help make the office setting (the Post wouldn't let them film in the offices, so they set up soundstages in Hollywood) as realistic as possible. Trust me, no matter how much crap they sent over, it wouldn't reproduce the clutter and mess of a reporter's desk area.

To suffice both actors, Redford got main billing on promotion items, but Hoffman got top billing in the actual film.

What I like about the film is that it chronicles an extremely important time in the history of the United States when the media got it right. They fought through the bullshit that our country's leaders were feeding and got to the truth. Still not sure if we're entirely clear as to the importance of the stubborness of Woodward and Bernstein.

'Grievous Angel'

The motivated music fan is able to wade through the last century of music and find the good stuff.

My trek to Gram Parsons was a relatively short one. It started with the Beach Boys to the Beatles and spread to other bands from the 1960s like the Rolling Stones, The Turtles, The Animals and the Dave Clark Five.

Eventually to the hippie-era Byrds with Roger McGuinn in those ridiculous granny glasses and that 12-string Rickenbacker tingling out "Hey Mr. Tambourine Man."

Dig a little deeper into the Byrds catalog and you run upon Sweetheart of the Rodeo and, thus, Parsons.

My love for Parsons has grown deep and true. Apart from the songwriting and musicianship, he's just a cool guy. Dressed cool. Drank cool. Did drugs cool. Loved cool. His star shone super bright, but it extinguished really early. There's nothing you can do about that. It's the way it's supposed to be. Guys like Parsons do not live long. They did everything entirely too hard (good and bad) to really survive on this planet.

All we can do is appreciate what he left here on for us and how those songs make us feel good no matter what mood where in because Parsons was great at capturing all that you can feel.

'Mr. Deeds Goes To Town'

I don't know how good of a film Mr. Deeds Goes To Town really is. It has very good actors and is a very good story.

But doesn't a film like this actually gain value considering the basis for the story and the current climate of the country at the time?

Just seven years before its release, the United States saw the rug be pulled out from underneath it as the stock market crashed and saw millions lose a job, their savings or both. What hit the upper class swooped to kill the little man.

Mr. Deeds is everyman, especially the man living in the small town trying to make his way as the rich stock brokers are jumping off roofs in New York City and Chicago.

I would imagine, this film would have meant a lot for moviegoers who all were probably affected by the awful Depression. Maybe more than cinematography, acting, writing or direction, that means something.

'The Pianist'

The biggest problem I have with the film, The Pianist, is that him being a pianist, I think, doesn't play a big enough part of the film.

He's a pianist. Yes. But when he's struggling to survive the Nazi invasion of Poland, it feels like he might as well be a bricklayer or ditch digger.

I could be entirely wrong. It seems he was initially spared the trip to the extermination camp because he's such a national treasure. Then, when he plays for the Nazi officer, you get the feeling that his talent saved his life again.

So, screw me. Maybe him being a pianist was the whole basis of the film.

The situation -- hiding from Nazis, waiting it all out -- of how well you would survive?

I think the thing that would drive me crazy is the constantly sitting there and waiting with nothing to do. I'd still want someone to come by and bring me some books to read.

Furthermore, any time you hear the squeaky brakes of an army jeep stopping in front of your building wondering if they're coming for you.

Once the tanks roll in blowing shit up, I'd almost be tickled to see them trying to kill me.

Also, this is a Roman Polanski film. He won an Oscar for direction, but couldn't collect the award because he's wanted for raping a young girl 30 years ago.

'Make Way For Tomorrow'

This is a really sweet, sad film.

An old couple -- with a certain amount of homely naivete -- are foreclosed upon and their selfish children are forced to split them apart due to space.

The parents are shipped from house to house, but they are never together and they quickly realize they'll never be together again.

It's extremely sad and yet the couple face it like death, and for these two not being together is as simple as dying.

As Orson Welles stated, Make Way For Tomorrow would "make a stone cry."

Thomas Mitchell plays the eldest son, George. Mitchell's career as a character actor is salty. The groundbreaking films he helped make is really, really awesome.

Director Leo McCarey won an Oscar the year this film was released. But for The Awful Truth. When he accepted the award, he said, "Thanks, but you gave it to me for the wrong picture."

He was referring to Make Way For Tomorrow.

'Gilda' & 'Only Angels Have Wings'

Rita Hayworth. Damn.

No female in the history of entertainment has a better situation from the waist up. The breasts, shoulders, neck, the gorgeous face and everything in between. Beautiful. Breathtaking.

The truth is, despite the legacy of Hayworth as a Hollywood starlet and a grand beauty, I had no real knowledge of what she actually looked like. Up until I saw these two movies where she plays someone that is beyond beautiful, who plays a bit of a foil to our main characters. The great harlot and siren. The woman who's very voice causes lesser sailors to crash against the rocks.

She steals the attention of the camera. Your eyes can not help but just remain attached to Hayworth whenever she's in the scene.

The only sexless moment in these two films are in Gilda when she's performing the song near the end of the film and she's doing these awkward hip shakes. I realize that this is supposed to be seductive and sexy, but it's really not.

'Brief Encounter'

People often criticize modern culture for the fact that there are so many divorces. As if it's some testament of our departure from God or some breakdown in the familial mores.

I think it's more of a statement on the fact that in first-world countries, we're no longer simple-minded brutes living in a cesspool where marriage is more a social statement than an act of love. I would daresay there are more people married today in love than there were in the 1850s, 1900s or 1920s.

The very fact that the institution of marriage has changed so dramatically even over the last 40 years (more or less the last 90) is a clear indication that women are considered actual human beings instead of an ornament men take to parties. It's not a breakdown in family values. It's further evidence that people have a tough time getting along together.

As for adultery, it's kind of stupid. The only time it really makes sense is if the other person is abusive or just down-right mean.

Why the lady in Brief Encounter would want to hurt those not hurting her supports my general assertation that people are assholes.

Women would probably be less willing to enter into an affair if they truly understood that men just want to get laid. It's never about emotions or the relationship. Just carnal.

'Tampopo'

A very sweet and satisfying film if you enjoy cooking and food. Especially Japanese cooking and food.

Tampopo is a young single mother trying to get her noodle eatery up and going. Goro and Gun, two truck drivers, decide to stop at Tampopo's restaurant for lunch. They find her noodles unsatisfactory.

Thus begins the transition of Tampopo's cooking and her restaurant into the best noodles in Japan. She toils and tries new ingredients. She meets up with a homeless band of former French chefs.

The beauty of the film are in the sub-plots and vignettes. The gangster and his lover starring in one of the most outrageous sex scenes with food. The mother cooking the meal and dropping dead only to have the family to keep eating. The lowly executive showing off his knowledge of fine cuisine in front of the more experienced board members.

It's a really fine film. Funny and heart warming. If some American director hasn't done it, someone will.

'All About My Mother'

Pedro Almodovar has become a can't-miss director and writer in my book. Of the films of his I've seen, there's not a one that I haven't really liked or even loved.

Some pretty common themes for the filmmaker hinge mainly on relationships with mothers and female members of family like aunts and sisters.

As in All About My Mother, the characters find themselves in mother-like relationship to fulfill certain emotional needs in people's hearts.

There's also a fair amount of transsexuals or even very masculine women.

According to Almodavor, all of his films have an "autobiographical dimension." I don't know if he was akin to associating with a ton of transsexuals, I'm sure there's something about his past and formative years that have some complicated, misplaced or pleasant memory or representation of women and females. Each film is a peek into Almodavor's own little psyche and that is probably draining for a director.

Either way, I celebrate the man's entire catalog. A true auteur.

'The Last Laugh'

Unlike Billy Budd, our hero, the doorman, in The Last Laugh receives a reprieve in life.

Budd found his fate on the gallows. The doorman was on the brink of wasting away into old age until "the author took pity on him" and made it that the doorman received a hefty inheritance and lived high on the hog for his entire life.

I mean, the actual director (F.W. Murnau) references to himself and the screenwriter in the film. As if, if it were any other character, they would not have had any pity for them. Like Genghis Khan or Stalin.

But the doorman was likable and loving. He was kind and sharing. He deserved pity. I wonder what Murnau would have done for Budd. Maybe he forgoes the execution and ends up getting his own ship. Or a pirate's chest full of gold.

I'm just happy someone in films or books are in for a happy ending.

'Howard's End'

I've never heard of or seen a group of people so concerned with class than the Victorians.

How much money you had was who you were as a person or a family.

It determined how you acted, who you were friends with, what you did for fun, your likes, dislikes, wives, husbands and how you raised your kids.

If God didn't bless you with placement with a rich family, there was little to hang your hat on except hard work and maybe a little bit of luck to hammer out a decent living where you could actually enjoy the small things.

At the time, it appears there were the haves and have nots. Even the middle class wasn't the modern middle class that we all know and love. The poor in 1900 would've killed to be a middle class family in 1990.

But as can be expected, money doesn't make you a good person. Being someone who can be snobby or even keep a dying woman's request clearly makes you a bad person. Or a person to ill-repute. Then to marry this woman as she stares spinsterhood square in the face, well, that's another pickle. It's downright sorry.

Say what you will about modern culture, but the idea of a woman having an illegitimate child is looked at totally differently in most cultures.

'Stella Dallas'

I think it's amazing that there was someone named "King Vidor." It's almost too hard to believe.

It took Vidor about 10 minutes of his film to completely and utterly disconnect his title character from the audience. At least from me. Maybe it was the character. Maybe it was Barbara Stanwyck. Either way, I set eyes on Stella Dallas and immediately hated her and it only snowballed for the rest of the movie.

I think it takes a pretty special talent in filmmaking to not only complete endear a character to the audience. It may be just as hard to completely alienate a character from the audience.

Dallas isn't a good person. We kept waiting for the other shoe to fall and for her husband to turn out to be a total jackass. But it didn't happen. Dallas inesplicably kept acting like a spoiled brat and the husband remained patient. Still, she kept pushing and he wouldn't push back.

After a while, I started to wonder where this movie was going to go. Eventually, Dallas begins living vicariously through her child to the point of turning her back on their relationship.

I'd almost feel bad for Stella if she wasn't such a giant bitch.

'Babes in Arms'

Ask me what celebrity I'd most enjoy punching square in the face, it'd be Mickey Rooney.

If that doesn't quite explain things: I flippin' hate Mickey Rooney.

He represents what I always find kind of gay about old Hollywood. The spunky, cute kid who appears really talented with the ability to sing, dance, play instruments and coordinate all this together for a big "show." Shows. That's what they used to have back in the days of Vaudeville. Shows. With singing and dancing. Everyone smiling and getting high of other people looking at you and clapping. It's has disgustingly narcissistic as you can possibly get. It's downright unhealthy.

"Babes in Arms" is the ultimate apex of this for Rooney. I would also cite James Cagney in "Yankee Doodle Dandy" for the same thing, but he'd probably punch me in the face before I had the opportunity to raise my eyes in his direction.

I guess I hate him because he was always walking around like there's a camera pointed at him. He was never real.

Rooney is just a pipsqueak. Always trying to prove something to somebody. Always in this goofy, aw-shucks predicaments. Always trying to balance his love the stage and for Judy Garland. I just wanted to kick him in his teeth. So cocky. Any one of those other guys should've just pounded him.

'A Touch of Evil'

I'm going to be honest: I had zero idea that that was Charlton Heston and that the crooked cop was Orson Welles.

In my defense, I hadn't read anything about the film nor did I care to see who was actually in it. I punched it up on Netflix and let it fly.

Furthermore, they did have Heston trying to portray a Hispanic man. It's kinda like putting a fu manchu on Tom Cruise and asking him to play an Asian man.

I really enjoyed it. It had a real European feel to it and, according to hearsay, French director Francois Truffant loved it. Makes total sense.

In addition to the European style of filmmaking, it delved into the desert and grit of the Southwest and Mexico. Love films set in this area where it's a perpetually the wild west -- lonely and desolate. Gritty. Blazing hot and yet bitterly cold.

The film itself conveys these very characteristics. It's raw and violent like the old sand pit itself.

'Ivan the Terrible'

Three hours of a Russian film from the 1940s. I was fearing for the worst.

Instead, I was thoroughly entertained and enthralled.

Ivan the Terrible is a terrific film, I guess one of the first biopics. I loved the actors, the characters, the writing wasn't half bad (despite the Russian translation) and the film as a whole was really good. I'm glad I sat through it.

Russian films are interesting. Since the medium came about, Russia had been a communist country ruled with an iron fist with little leeway for true art with the space to comment on anything. Otherwise, you wind up in a Siberian gulag like Ivan Denisovich.

I'm partially shocked this film -- at least part one -- made it through the censors to be released in 1944 at the very end of World War II and with Josef Stalin still in charge, killing off anyone he didn't like.

It comes as no real surprise that part two was held back for release by the censors 1958. They thought that ol' Ivan resembled Stalin. Interestingly, Stalin admired Ivan's leadership, but he didn't enjoy the many parallels between the two (despite Ivan, apparently, not being overly violent or truly "terrible." He was actually just kind of a hard ass.

As Sergei Eisenstein didn't see the release of part two, part three didn't even make it to film as Eisenstein died leaving the film unfinished. The government took the remains and destroyed them.

What blew my mind about this film is in part two when they jump to the color part with the dancing. I assumed there was some reason and maybe it was significant somehow. Instead, Eisenstein apparently thought the scene would look better in color. And you think directors have this movie thing all figured out?

'Superfly'

I like Superfly for a blaxploitation film because it's pretty believable.

A cocaine dealer wanting to make one last huge haul and then retire. It's edgy and raw in that it paints a stark picture of the drug trade and intimate involvement from a number of levels, from street pushers to white government officials.

The film's taken criticism for making the unstated comment that the Civil Rights movement opened up schools and water fountains, but it still kept African Americans in a position of subservience. Instead of the white man, it was the white powder. And most will tell you that they are the same thing anyway.

If you really wanted to use Superfly as a gauge for the plight of the black American and the drug epidemic that put many into graves and many others behind bars. And in the end it was a white police commissioner pulling on the strings. This, of course, cites the aforementioned theory that drugs are just another set of chains for African Americans.

On the other hand, as debilitating drugs are, sticking a needle into your arm or snorting that line are choices. Just as Youngblood Priest was making a choice, there are still factors and overriding forces keeping you in.

Funny that it's the only film to be outgrossed by the soundtrack. Damn Curtis Mayfield.

'Tabu'

I totally understand why these old movies are part of the 1,001 films I should watch before I die. They established an art form and a certain standard that was adopted by filmmakers through the generations.

They evolved the filmmaking process by leaps and bounds over a 20-year period eventually adopting better ways to film, gain better shots, edit, direct and provide some form of production value and effects. For example, look at F.W. Murnau's The Last Laugh for some awesome effects.

However, I tend to think that between 1931 (when Tabu was released) and 2005 (the last year represented on by 1,001 list), there had to be a better film. It definitely wasn't Murnau's best and it's sort of just a nothing film.

Some fun facts:

Murnau died in a car crash before the film was ever released.

The rights to the film were handed over to Murnau's mother in the 1930s. The original film was destroyed during World War II in Germany. The rights were then sold to Rowland and Samuel Brown, who re-released the film in 1948, but were forced to cut about five minutes of nudity in order to get approval by the censors.

Thankfully, all the bare breasts of the native women (and some "half-castes") were restorted once it was released on DVD.

'Frank'

When Amy Winehouse got cool.

This kinda started the death pool watch as Winehouse began to make a name for herself for soul and jazz enthusiasts in England and started to create a buzz in the States.

Then she started to do copious amounts of drugs and alcohol and record the stupendous Back to Black album that really put her name on the tip of everyone's tongue around the world.

Frank is the ying to Back to Black's yang. It's entirely more jazzy and something my older sisters would like rather than a hipster favorite or something that would get a bunch of old-school soul brothers in England all excited.

For Winehouse, you have to wonder what he life would've been like had she never made Frank. It's probably wildly unlikely that she gets hooked on drugs although we could never truly know. Is it worth the jail time, trouble and possible earth death to have two highly-regarded pop albums. Does the money and fame really matter other than to buy more drugs? Or get drugs for free? Kinda depends on your priorities.

Although Jimi Hendrix, Mama Cass and Robert Johnson died early, Winehouse will probably live forever.

'Green'

I actually have quite the past with college rock. Particularly REM and the Green album.

It had to be 1988 or 1989. No later. And my friend Anthony told me about the song "King Tut" performed by comedian Steve Martin.

I did not know who Martin really was nor did I have any clue as to who King Tut was. But my friend says something's funny, so I listen.

So he dubbed "King Tut" onto a old cassette tape. Either by coincidence (as it was already on the tape) or because he liked the song, REM's "Stand" was dubbed directly after "King Tut."

I initially thought it was very 1980s as if the guys playing and singing would look like Flock of Seagulls or Tears for Fears with silly haircuts. Instead it's Mike Stipe and Co. On Green, there's mandolins and driven guitar rock. Very un-1980s, actually.

Even at age eight, I was too cool for school. A real hipster.

'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot'

There is not a more quintessential album in the post-9/11 United States.

The album is eerily poignant even nine years after the fact. The songs were written and the music composed well before some asshole terrorists flew some planes into some buildings in Washington, D.C. and New York City. However, in my brain, nothing captured the pulse and attitude of the United States following Sept. 11, 2001.

The album was streamed for free online (as the band were without a label) in September 2001. It was released some seven months later in 2002. I don't know what life was like in April 2002. As I remember, a lot of things were kinda back to normal. I never felt I was going to die in an attack. But I didn't think I'd log in to the Internet and see another story of airplanes and skyscrapers.

In history, we often define certain areas of art based on events like wars and signature moments that somehow defined a vast collection of years. It might take us 30 years to understand culture in the post-9/11 America and it might not be very pretty.

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot -- should they create some museum -- should be perpetually played over the loudspeakers. I'd dare you not to listen to Ashes of American Flags and not be brought to the most humblest of states while watching footage of that morning on the island of Manhattan.

I dare you not to listen to Heavy Metal Drummer and picture the decade of frivolity that preceded Sept. 11, 2001.

Listen to War and War and not think about our troops loaded on the Iraqi border.

Furthermore, this was not only a seminal record in American culture or even in rock music (it made the best-of lists for a vast majority of critics), but for the band. They dumped the country-rock thing and recorded experimental, jazz-fusiony, jam rock that propelled them to their current state and the existing stable of talented musicians pushing them onward. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot did what it did to the country to the band itself.

'Exile in Guyville'

Before I listened to Liz Phair, I saw Liz Phair.

It was in a guitar magazine -- probably dedicated to female rockers! -- in the 1990s, around the time Exile in Guyville was released in 1994.

To a horny 14-year-old, who automatically fell in love with any half-decent looking girl holding a guitar and doing rock music.

Later, I would learn that there's about a billion girls better looking and that Phair couldn't sing. Which, even as a teenager, was a turn off.

I always knew that Exile in Guyville was a response to the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street (22 years too late). However, I always thought it was in album title alone and Phair's songs about one-night stands, oral sex and guys.

However, Phair contends that her album is a song-by-song response to the Stones. Critics say it's not obviously a response and I agree. Phair is extremely generic and although you could mold the songs to be considered a "response" (again, 22 years after the fact), but it could also be angry chick rock.

'The Butcher Boy'

They say that modern culture -- full of violence, sex and a departure from reality -- is eroding the fabric of American youth and turning all teenagers into sex-hungry sociopaths.

I actually think they're just bored. It's a conciousness of boredom that spans generations. The longer that humans exists, the easier our youth get bored.

What's one thing that kids always say? "I'm bored!"

They're always bored. So they seek ways to appease their boredom. Maybe it's video games. Maybe sports.

Eventually it becomes girls and maybe drugs. Around this time (13-16) this person's life is already in the balance. The kid could get hooked on drugs and that leads to a downward spiral that winds them up in prison or, worse, a perpetual emptiness of life until they are dead and buried. At least in prison you get to work out a lot.

Around this time, maybe a kid gets into music, sports or school. The kid matures and calms down some. They really get into school and wind up at Harvard. They really get into music and wind up on stage. They really get into sports and wind up playing four years of Division II basketball at a small university.

In The Butcher Boy, our pals Joe and Francie were bored. Joe (by chance or whatever) went one way and Francie went the other. One winds up shooting a lady in the head and the other winds up in school, turning his back on such behavior.

It's tough for sociologists or politicians to believe that affecting someone's life might start when they're 12 and include a vast series of pizza parties. That somehow the lifestyle of crime is just a matter of being bored and needing to get a fix. But it is.

Take the youth group in your local church. Look at their activity calendar. There's stuff going on four or five nights out of the week. It's not about beating the gospel of Jesus Christ into their head as much as its keeping them occupied.

'Cleo From 5 To 7'

How do you spend a day trying to forget about your death?

Try to work on a new song? Get a drink? Undertake some pointless excursion with some stranger and pretend to fall in love?

Cleo is dying and she's twiddling her thumbs waiting for the results of her biopsy.

My favorite scene is when she walks into the cafe, goes to the jukebox, plays on her songs, and sits and waits for people to comment about the song.

The chance that they could say something mean would drive me crazy. I couldn't do it. Thankfully, artists today have the Internet. I mean, there's no way that bands and artists don't know how much people really hate them. That has to be depressing.

Although, why couldn't Coldplay -- and not Cleo -- get cancer?

Neat info: 38 years later, director Agnes Varda would make the documentary "The Gleaners and I." Also, Varda was present for Jim Morrison's funeral in Paris. Doesn't a funeral seem to formal for Morrison? I think he would've preferred to be shot into space or launched in a submarine into the Mariana Trench.

'Billy Budd'

Poor ol' Billy Budd.

The guy doesn't have a thing going for him. All he knows is the sea and the stars. Gets yanked around like an indentured servant.

Just a good looking, young, athletic, charismatic kid trying to make his way in the world keeping his elbows greased and his head down.

Then Claggart gets jealous, trumps up some bogus mutiny rumors, Budd takes a swing and -- lo and behold -- kills Claggart.

One swing of the arm, a clenched fist. Maybe hadn't thrown a punch in his entire life and the first time he takes a swing at a guy, he dies.

Leave it to Herman Melville to write the most simple story about good versus evil. And with evil winning. Whereas the hero of, say, "Moby Dick" is ambiguous, at best, the line is pretty clear in "Billy Budd" where both the white whale and Ahab perish.