I decided to try The Criterion Channel service, and I thought it would be fun to document some of what we watch, and share some of what I learn. I own a few outstanding Criterion discs, including the Godzilla set, and some John Waters films.
The Criterion Collection, Inc. (or simply Criterion) is an American home-video distribution company that focuses on licensing, restoring and distributing “important classic and contemporary films”. A de facto subsidiary of arthouse film distributor Janus Films, Criterion serves film and media scholars, cinephiles and public and academic libraries. Criterion has helped to standardize certain aspects of home-video releases such as film restoration, the letterboxing format for widescreen films and the inclusion of bonus features such as scholarly essays and documentary content about the films and filmmakers. Criterion most notably pioneered the use of commentary tracks. Criterion has produced and distributed more than 1,000 special editions of its films in VHS, Betamax, LaserDisc, DVD, Blu-ray and Ultra HD Blu-ray formats and box sets. These films and their special features are also available via The Criterion Channel, an online streaming service that the company operates.
I’ve been debating signing up for some time, and the thing that finally persuaded me was Viggo Mortensen recommendations of his favorite westerns in the Criterion Closet. I like Viggo’s westerns, and he knows his stuff.
I started with Stagecoach. Directed in 1939 by John Ford, this was John Wayne’s breakthrough role. The screenplay is based on a 1937 short story by Ernest Haycox called The Stage to Lordsburg. The film follows a group of strangers riding on a stagecoach through dangerous Apache territory.
Stagecoach is one of the most influential films ever made, and not just for westerns, although it was highly influential for many subsequent western films. Orson Welles argued that it was a perfect textbook of filmmaking. He watched it more than 40 times in preparation for the making of Citizen Kane. In 1995, the film was deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant” by the United States Library of Congress and selected for preservation in their National Film Registry.
Stagecoach was filmed in Monument Valley, on the Arizona–Utah border in the American Southwest and on several movie ranches (Iverson Movie Ranch in Chatsworth, California and the RKO Encino Ranch). As such, there are some geographic incongruities. Yet, the scenery is remarkable, even in black and white.
There is a scene where the stagecoach has to cross a river, and the camera seems to be mounted to the coach, looking down. The viewer feels as though they are bring pulled along into the water by the horses with the characters on the coach, and it’s quite exciting. It’s a very clever shot. The chase across the plain where the Apaches are battling to stop the stagecoach is exciting to watch, even today.
Something I notice about a lot of older films and TV is the general pacing is so much slower. I’ve rewatched all the episodes of The Six Million Dollar Man several times (it’s a favorite to have on the background when I am working in my studio). Of course, this show was made for network television between 1973-1978. I chuckle to myself as a shot will frame a car coming toward the viewer from the top of a hill some distance away, and there is not cut – we just watch them drive down a road, in real time. And, I’m not saying that slowness is a bad thing (sometimes it is), but the pacing of current film/shows is likely indicative of our attention/distraction culture.
I will write more about 6MDM later. I have thoughts.
Leading up to subscribing to Criterion, we watched Anatomy of a Murder over several evenings before falling asleep. I’ve enjoyed the soundtrack for years, but had never seen the film. Duke Ellington himself makes a charming appearance, too. This is the first American film to feature an African-American composer/soundtrack. Saul Bass did the introduction graphics and tiles, to wonderful effect.
This is a 1959 American courtroom drama film produced and directed by Otto Preminger. The screenplay by Wendell Mayes was based on the 1958 novel of the same name written by Michigan Supreme Court Justice John D. Voelker under the pen name of Robert Traver. Voelker based the novel on a 1952 murder case in which he was the defense attorney. On July 31, 1952, Lt. Coleman A. Peterson shot and killed Maurice Chenoweth at a tavern in Big Bay, Michigan. Peterson’s wife Charlotte had claimed Chenowyth raped and beat her. This film has been cited by various organizations as one of the finest trial films ever made, and in 2012, was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.”
James Stewart’s character, a bachelor, is an improviser, and spend most of his time fishing and listening to jazz. He has a quickness that helps him in the courtroom.
Also not watched on Criterion, but watched nonetheless, was Chinatown: a 1974 American neo-noir mystery film directed by Roman Polanski (screenplay by Robert Towne). Set in 1937, it was inspired by the California water wars, a series of disputes over southern California water at the beginning of the 20th century, by which Los Angeles interests secured water rights in the Owens Valley. This was Polanski’s last film in the United States and features many elements of film noir, particularly a multi-layered story that is part mystery and part psychological drama. It’s a great story, and while we never hear what actually happened to J.J. “Jake” Gittes (Jack Nicholson) in Chinatown, it seems to play out in the primary narrative, and is hinted at as a story within a story. It’s as though the past is determined to repeat itself. I want to watch the sequel, The Two Jakes. More on that soon.
Next, we watched Variety Lights (Luci del varietà), 1950, directed by Federico Fellini and Alberto Lattuada. From the Criterion site:
Made in collaboration with Alberto Lattuada, Federico Fellini’s directorial debut unfolds amid the colorful backdrop of a traveling vaudeville troupe whose quixotic impresario (Peppino De Filippo) is tempted away from his faithful mistress (Giulietta Masina) by the charms of an ambitious young dancer (Carla Del Poggio). Though the details of what the division of duties was between the two directors are unclear, this lively backstage capriccio is unmistakably Felliniesque in its whimsical fascination with the heightened reality, carnivalesque characters, and exotic allure of the world of show business. In the first of her celebrated collaborations with her director husband, Giulietta Masina displays the spirited vulnerability that would soon become an archetype of cinematic emotiveness.
My favorite scene is when Checco Dal Monte takes Lily to dinner. The stage is revealed as the image of a woman is stretched horizontally, and it is striking. There’s a ventriloquist gag, and the dancing involves the women riding men around the dance floor. Every seems to enjoy this.
The Man Who Wasn’t There
This 2001 neo-noir crime film was written, directed, produced and co-edited by Joel and Ethan Coen. The film is in black-and-white and employs voiceover narration, honoring classic film noir. It differs by including classical music, setting the plot in a small town, and featuring a protagonist from outside the criminal underworld. The plot was influenced by James M. Cain’s crime novels, primarily Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice, and Mildred Pierce. Aesthetically, The Man Who Wasn’t There was inspired by films from the 1940s and 1950s—including Shadow of a Doubt—along with science fiction films and documentaries of the period. It was filmed in California.
The protagonist (Ed Crane) is a quiet, brooding, yet even kind of fellow that makes a living in his brother-in-law’s barbershop. He mentions that he and his wife married after a very short courtship, and he asked “Don’t you want to get to know me better?” to which her reply was similar to “Why? What’s the point?” There is an underlying discontent in his manner, and for all his silent calm, he seems shallow.
I particularly enjoyed James Gandolfini and Jon Polito in this.
Mulholland Drive
We made it through Mulholland Drive. I’ve ventured into a few sites that examine the narrative of this. I think if I had watched this when it came out, I would have been more interested in developing my own theories. I want to spend that time watching other things, however.
As an aside, speaking of John Ford, Lynch played him in The Fablemans.
We also watched Onibaba, 12 Monkeys, Rosemary’s Baby, Double Indemnity, The Maltese Falcon, The Last Picture Show, The Big Heat, and many others.
I’ve decided to tags posts about films that we watch, to help keep track. I wish I had started doing this years ago!