Diabetes! I ought to know better than to hire anyone with a disease.

Escaping convicts! Counterfeit money! Guns! Devious ex-husbands! Fast paced dialogue!
It's not the latest action flick of the season people. It's the 1940 screwball comedy His Girl Friday!
Although this movie could be labeled a love story, it is not your typical guy-meets-girl-guy-falls-in-love-with-girl-the-feeling-is-mutual-the-end. The concept of love in His Girl Friday is not necessarily a romantic love. Love is portrayed more as a discovery of passion, in the case of Hildy Johnson, a rediscovery of passion. Instead of falling victim to the archetypal woman's role during that time period, the circumstances of the film allowed her to realize her place in the press. Cary Grant's character, Walter Burns, could be considered romantically in love with Hildy, but it is almost as if he is in love with chasing her and winning her over. Walter's passion derives from wanting to always get his way, a self-sufficient kind of love.
But no matter how hard you try to break down a person's reasoning for pursuing a partner, it all leads back to the most fundamental biological necessity.
Procreation.
So go ahead. Throw around your fancy explanations of the romantic psyche and analyze behavior until you reach that inevitable cycling effect. All of those details merely accessorize the fact that humans, nay, all living things, have an innate responsibility to further their species.
So the next time you're sitting dutifully at another "love" movie, popcorn in hand, eyes fixated on the screen, ask yourself, what are these guys really trying to achieve here? To the untrained eye, their paths may not seem to lead to reproduction for biology's sake. But sooner or later, all stories' paths diverge at the central checkpoint that is copulation.

Clint Eastwood? More like Clint WESTERNwood!

1992 was an eventful year. I turned three years old. Aladdin was the top grossing movie at the box-office. David Bowie married Iman. George H.W. Bush puked in Prime Minister of Japan Kiichi Miyazawa's lap. The Rodney King trial results in riots across Los Angeles. Unforgiven won Best Picture at the Academy Awards.

I'll be totally honest... in retrospect, all I was concerned about back then was Aladdin.

However, upon watching a 1992 milestone, Unforgiven, certain ideas have been confirmed:

ONE. Revisionist westerns deserve some lovin'.

TWO. Another instance of heroic whores: Prostitutes' heroism can come from their willingness to help out a fellow whore, even if it does entail putting a price on the offender's head.

THREE. Morgan Freeman is so awesome.

This post is supposed to be about Unforgiven, but I would like to take this opportunity to wax idiotic on behalf of Mr. Freeman. He's in the movie, so technically... it counts.

If I could spend one day with any live person, Morgan Freeman would easily be my top choice. Everything from his salt-and-pepper kinky hair, to his boyish freckles sprinkled across his face radiate warmth and genuineness. He has tackled interesting roles and has proved to be a very versatile actor, earning him nominations and an Academy Award. But his most outstanding feature has got to be his voice. Freeman's soothing baritone mixed with a slight southern drawl is just plain relaxing. There is a power in his voice that is instantly recognized and improbably forgotten. I bet you can think of what his voice sounds like right now.

If not, here's a refresher. (From Deep Impact)

In his role as Ned, Freeman delivered the appropriate amount of compassion and restraint to the character. Anything more brash or confrontational would have completely changed the regretful, simplistic tone Ned needs to have at that point in his life. Basically, the man is sweet. You gotta love him.

Cidade de Deus

Making a multi-faceted movie is not easy and almost never done. In the case of Fernando Meirelles's City of God, multi-faceted is its middle name. Thematically, it crosses many genres; coming of age, drug, thriller, social scrutinizing. It is almost impossible to label precisely. City of God is namely a story of the narrator, Rocket, an inhabitant of a favela (kind of like a Brazilian shanty town), which happens to also be the titular reference, City of God (or Cidade de Deus in Portuguese). He is very much exposed to drugs and violence and corruption, but he avoids getting mixed up in the gangs by exploring his passion: photography. Interestingly enough, the photography of the film has been praised and was nominated for Best Cinematography at the 2002 Academy Awards, along with three other nominations.

It should have won Best Cinematography. Fricken Lord of the Rings.

The neo-realistic vision set forth by the director of photography, César Charlone, is not necessarily revolutionary, but definitely effective. DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately there are no special commentaries or behind the scenes on the DVD or any reliable websites, so this post is purely based on observations, which are limited due to my being a human and everything.
Right from the beginning, the camera acts as another character in the movie, offering insight that would not necessarily be emphasized. A gritty, raw filter is used to accentuate the dismal city. The general mood is pessimistic, heartbreaking. Children are shooting children. Friends are dying over feuds whose beginnings have been lost. Power is mistaken for love. Most of the scenes are filmed with a Steadicam, but the real gems are the handheld scenes. Most notably was the use during a death shot – imitating the position and movements of someone being shot, then eventually fading out, as if eyes were closing. Although this technique has been used before, the integration of the camera as a character with a classically defined “point of view” breaks up the monotony of just tracking or just panning. The shots reflected an unadulterated portrayal of the violence experiences of the particular area, but the amount of violent acts shown were appropriate and not overdone, which could have easily been abused.
Meirelles wanted to keep the energy and general atmosphere of the ghettos so he hired all natives as actors in the movie, with the exception of Matheus Nachtergaele. The combination of authentic Brazilian citizens and altruistic shots of Brazilian slums made the movie just plain interesting. Thankfully, Charlone and Meirelles’s skillful range and appreciation for the storyline made the movie worthy of artistic praise, as well as thematic acclaim.

Charlone will be directing photography for the upcoming Blindness, based on the novel by José Saramago. (Kind of nervous about the adaptation, not gonna lie.) Basically, the novel depicts a situation where an entire city undergoes a white blindness epidemic, meaning a piercing white is all people can see. It will be interesting to see what choices he makes with how to convey the blindness, as well as incorporate the sight of the only person who does not get affected by the plague, an ophthamologist's wife (ha). The book also dealt with rape and murder, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were cinematic essences of City of God repeated in Blindness.

Harlots and Hookers and Women of Ill-Repute... Oh My!

John Ford does not try to hide his characters from the audience in Stagecoach. Lucy Mallory is a southern not-so-belle, Hatfield is a chivalrous, delusional Confederate and Doc Boone is a borderline raging alcoholic. However there is one character whose status is not really revealed, but instead implied: Dallas the prostitute. Now taking the time period and the typical audience of said time period into consideration, I understand that bluntly exposing Dallas's occupation could have resulted in a bit of public outrage. But looking at her character in the movie, I realize a Hollywood trend that transcends any era.
Prostitutes are heroic.
Feel free to snicker and scoff and disagree, but think about it. Pretty Woman, Risky Business, Taxi Driver, Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo. What do these have in common? The streetwalker is who the audience identifies the most with, the one who people sympathize with. This is clearly a manipulation on the part of the screenwriters, but why has there not yet been a movie (at least that I have heard of) that depicts prostitutes in a degrading light?
I think there are 5 main reasons why Hollywood chooses to highlight the life of a hooker:

1. Making the prostitute the protagonist (or at least a central character) allows for a potential sex scene. (Sex sells, duh.)
2. Hookers typically resort to their profession because they fall on hard times. Sadly, this creates an excellent dynamic for a drama.
3. There is still a stigma about prostitutes. Prostitutes = controversial.
Controversial = more press. More press = more audience. More
audience = more ca$h money. More ca$h money = more prostitutes. You get the idea.
4. The whole Pretty Woman Situation (prostitute is hired by a rich man but they fall in love and are consequently torn by their morals and emotions) is so cute. Too bad Gary Marshall totally capitalized on that Cinderella story. That could have been a sub genre right there.
5. You cannot help but think, "Man, I'm glad I'm not in that situation." Witnessing prostitution appeals to our pathos, which is the most basic formula for an engaging narrative.

Dallas totally applies to these principles. Her and Ringo's love is met with
hope and optimism. Her taking care of Lucy's baby is regarded as noble and responsible. Although Stagecoach is recongnized for its innovative
cinematic elements, I like to consider it the grandfather of prostitute movies. So how about a big hand to Claire Trevor in her role as Dallas for paving the way for the Julia Roberts's and Jodie Foster's of our generation.

Let's go to the window!

Citizen Kane. An enigma that has been labeled the greatest American movie ever made. But what makes this movie so gosh-darn entertaining and well-made (relatively speaking)? It could be the engaging narrative, the complex characterization, or Orson Welles's excellent use of deep focus photography. However, the most obvious cinematic, even theatric, element is an aspect of mise-en-scene: lighting.

Welles was able to accentuate character motive by merely lighting a scene effectively. Low-key lighting, as portrayed in the above photo, is probably the director's most immediate choice in depicting the mysterious and unattainable aspects of the movie. One instance of this choice is during the Declaration of Principles scene, when Kane first creates his promise to the public. His face is almost entirely in shadow during the signing of the document, which questions the integrity of the declaration. Light is also a dominant element during a fight between Kane and Susan Alexander. Mixed with a high-angle shot, the low-key lighting greatly emphasizes the superiority of Kane's word over Alexander's will, as well as establish a deeper look into Kane's motives behind his "love" for Susan. Jerry Thompson's character, the reporter researching rosebud, is also defined by deliberate lighting. The audience never gets a satisfying shot of his face, which could imply that we too are "left in the dark" about Kane.

Many components were compiled to create this critically-acclaimed film. Taking each element into consideration individually would not do a piece justice. It is imperative that they be viewed together in synergy to comprehend the artistry behind a movie.

Verti(way to)go

They say it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. For John "Scottie" Ferguson, played by an adept James Stuart in Alfred Hitchcock's 1958 Vertigo, it is considerably better to manipulate than to live and let die. Clichés aside, it is evident that the movie is more than Hitchcock's famous twists and turns; it is a representation of desire, and in some ways, unrequited love.

The story is set in early 1950's San Francisco. John Ferguson (Stuart) is an acrophobic (fear of heights), recently-retired detective hired by an old friend to follow the friend's wife, who is apparently suffering from a sort of possession. The reluctant Ferguson eventually gives in and follows Madeline, played by the regal Kim Novak, only to become infatuated with her. As his love grows, so does hers for him, as well as her bizarre situation and their otherwise sympathetic relationship ends in suicide. Scottie is struck with despair and melancholy, which is demonstrated through a mental subjectivity montage, and probably some of the most memorable scenes in the movie. Hitchcock uses flashing green and red lights and a dizzying backdrop with the protagonist’s head floating in an optical illusion to depict the curse Madeline has placed on him. However, almost immediately after his lover’s death, he follows an uncannily similar woman named Judy and manipulates her every appearance in an attempt to recreate his lost love.

The last thirty minutes explain the paradoxical situation that justifies Hitchcock’s righteous place among great directors. Ferguson’s vertigo and fear of heights is met by a passion so great, it destroys all phobias, mentioned or implied (i.e. fear of heights, fear of uncontrolled aspects of life). As the second climax (which also happens to be the denouement) ends, the hope we have for Ferguson ends too.

Although the narrative is the most engaging component of the film, it would not be fair to not mention the excellent use of tonalities, as well as the notable use of sound. The color scheme is instantly recognizable as Hitchcock juxtaposes vivid colors with more drab sequences to draw attention to important scenes and landmarks, such as the Golden Gate Bridge or the wallpaper at Ernie’s, a restaurant several characters visit. Red and green seem to dominate revelations and flashbacks, which give an appropriately chaotic feel at necessary times.

The score, written by Bernard Herman (Citizen Kane, Psycho, Taxi Driver) is as important as the majority of the dialogue during the film. The music pulses and flows with the action, acting almost as another character. It creates and destroys atmosphere in a matter of a few notes, and establishes a large part of the suspense factor, which is an essential part of the film.

This movie could be scrutinized from Kim Novak’s costumes to every pan across Jimmy Stuart’s face, as Hitchcock was very deliberate in all aspects of the film. It is because of his premeditated vision that allows for such recognition of Vertigo in the film world.