What makes a great movie
great is the drama, the tension in a "scene" created by the interaction of
actor, lines, lens, lighting, music, and so on, that create the magic--
recognition of something beautiful about the human condition, revelation
about character, or life itself. These a few of the highs for me, the
moments I sucked in my breath realized something new. Not in any
particular order.
"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of
Orion.
I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the
Tannhauser gate.
All those moments will be lost in time, like
tears in
rain.
Time to
die."
Roy Batty, a "replicant" in "Blade Runner", at the moment he
realizes he is about to expire. All the more poignant because of his
earlier, violent demand for more life, from the head of the company that
manufactured him.
It was thought at one time that Rutger Hauer, the
actor playing Batty, improvised these lines. In fact, he did improvise the scene,
but
using lines that were already in the script by David Peoples, and has made an
earnest attempt to set the record straight. So the lines belong
originally to
David Peoples, but Hauer is still a genius for knowing where they fit,
perfectly.
I do not know if the words were in the original story by Philip K. Dick.
I don't remember them being there, but it's been a while. I suspect
they were not.
Isabelle Adjani stretches her neck, an utterly hypnotic, erotic gesture,
catching the interest of vampyre Klaus Kinski who was in a hurry to get back
to his coffin as the morning light advanced, in "Nosferatu". He can't
resist just one more little snack.
Anne Hathaway on the phone in "Brokeback Mountain" realizing or reckoning
with Ennis, after Jack died. I love well-acted scenes of realization
in good movies of substance.
Anna Schmidt walks by Holly Martins after Lime's funeral in "The Third
Man". All of our expectations are that she will stop at the
earnest but naive American, Holly Martins, standing there waiting for
her, and then they will walk
off together, arm in arm. Instead, she
doesn't even look at him. She never raises her head. She never
acknowledges his existence. Just walks
right by him. Earlier in the story, when asked why she
loved Harry Lime, she told Martins that he made her laugh, and you had the
feeling that, in the grim reality of that time, this was an infinitely
precious gift.
Peter Falk says "I can't see you but I know you're there" in "Wings of
Desire".
Discussion.
I don't know why, but at that moment in the film, in that context-- as the
"angels" closely observe his embrace of smoke and tobacco and art-- it gave
me chills.
In "Junebug", George, attending a church dinner with his sophisticated
cosmopolitan girlfriend Madeleine, on a rare visit to his home in Carolina ,
is asked to sing a gospel song. To Madeleine's astonishment, he does,
beautifully.
In post-war Japan, Professor Shukichi lives contentedly with his
daughter, Noriko. She takes care of him, doing his laundry and
cooking, and every night, after preparing for bed, he peels two
apples for them to enjoy together in the living room. But Shukichi's sister insists that it is time for
Noriko to marry and leave home. It is shameful, she says, for him to
allow his adult daughter to continue to look after him
Shukichi's sister doesn't understand
that Noriko doesn't really want to
get married-- she is content to live with her father. But Noriko's
friends also put pressure on her, saying that her father wishes she would
marry and move out but is too polite to tell her. Her father,
convinced it is not natural or normal for Noriko to live with him and remain
single, conducts a deception.
He convinces Noriko that he plans to remarry and that she would be in the
way. He makes it clear he won't be happy until he knows that she
is happily married. She reluctantly, dutifully agrees, but she is clearly
despondent, and is not in love with her husband-to-be. Shukichi has no
real intentional of remarrying. After his daughter's wedding, Shukichi returns to his home, sits down
in the living room, and silently peels an apple, and the full weight of his solitude
is expressed in that mundane but eloquent gesture. It is one of the
most devastating scenes I've ever watched.
The flower girl realizes that the poor little tramp she just gave a coin
to is her benefactor who paid for her operation to restore her eyesight
(City Lights).
In White Ribbon, the young couple daringly arrange a carriage ride
together. When the young man suggests they divert off the main road
and have a picnic near a river, the girl is distressed, fearful of scandal.
She begs him not to insist. Then she quietly touches his hand and
says, "bitte"-- "please"-- and he relents and turns the carriage
around.
"You were not." Amy Adams incredulous, after Embeth Davidtz informs
her that she was born in Japan, in
"Junebug".
Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) and Elaine (Katharine Ross) in "The Graduate"
flee the church where Ross was about to marry an all-American type, and hop
onto a bus. Astonishingly, the camera stays on them at the back of the
bus, and stays, and stays, as people stare and the bus rambles down
the street, as they both suddenly become awkward with each other.
Hoffman and Ross later explain that they were terrified that it had been a
lousy take and director Nichols was about to yell at them.
In "The Seventh Seal", Block studies the face of a "witch" to see if she
continues to believe herself to be Satan's bride as the flames begin to lick
her feet-- he thinks that if she does, he might believe in God, because if
there is a Satan, there must be a God. Alas.. her confidence
evaporates.
Yes, the brilliant "failure to communicate" sequence from "Cool Hand
Luke", one of the most subtle and insightful movies ever made. And
yes, the phone call to Dimitri in "Dr. Strangelove", and the brilliant
ending: Colonel Kong riding the bomb to hits target like a rodeo cowboy.
It's almost beyond brilliant.
The concubines of the King check out the imposter in Akira Kurosawa's "Kegemusha".
He'd kill us if he had the chance. From "The Conversation".
