Film Review: Indiana Jones & The Temple Of Doom - 40th Anniversary

"Indiana Jones & The Temple Of Doom"

** (out of ****)

There has been a very dangerous trend afoot by younger Gen Xers and older Millennials to try and convince the rest of us that 1984 was a great year for movies - as written in this USA Today article  and this piece published by Screen Rant - on par with the golden year of 1939, cited by several film historians as Hollywood's greatest year.

By and large their reason for believing this is because these movies were released when they were born and the memory of them invokes a strong sense of nostalgia. They also - generally speaking - lack a knowledge of film history and therefore elevate these movies to a higher status than they deserve. I haven't been aggressive in arguing this point over the last 16 years on this blog but I have gently tried to distinguish a difference between mainstream popular entertainment and classic cinema that exhibits great artistic merit. This distinction is lost on the viewers of these generations.
 

In 1939, Hollywood released "Gone with the Wind", "The Wizard of Oz", "Wuthering Heights", "Stagecoach" and "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington". Gen Xers and Millennials, understandably, haven't heard of these movies, with the possible exception of "Gone with the Wind" and "The Wizard of Oz". In 1984, "Ghostbusters", "Gremlins", "The Terminator" and Steven Spielberg's "Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom" were released. These movies are admittedly better known to modern audiences but in no way are they as significant as the 1939 movies. The 1939 movies had more to say about society and were the inspiration for the movies that followed. Including for the ones released in 1984. 

Steven Spielberg's "Indiana Jones & The Temple Of Doom" was the eagerly awaited sequel - or prequel if you prefer - to "Raiders of the Lost Ark" (1981), the movie that introduced us to archeologist Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford). It was also the second highest grossing movie of 1984 - in the United States - only behind "Ghostbusters", taking in more than $170 million.

It has been said Spielberg created "the summer blockbuster" with "Jaws" (1975). Within a mere nine years he, along with buddy George Lucas, who served as an executive producer, helped dumb down American cinema turning it into live action video games, contributing to the sorry state of affairs the Hollywood blockbusters have become today. That is the impact "The Temple of Doom" has had on American movies the past 40 years. Some will say that is a harsh opinion. I assure you, I don't come to it lightly.

A lot of  "movie critics" were enthusiastic to over look the flaws in "Temple of Doom" when it was initially released. The highly respected New Yorker critic Pauline Kael began her review of the movie writing "The great thing about a tall tale on the screen is that you can be shown the preposterous and the implausible." She goes on to refer to Spielberg as a "magician" and declares "The Temple of Doom" "leaps from one visual exaggeration to another - overbearingness is part of its breakneck style." That all sounds like a really nice way of saying - and excusing - that the movie has no plot. Chicago Sun-Times critic Roger Ebert noted "This movie is one of the most relentlessly nonstop action pictures ever made, with a virtuoso series of climactic sequences that must last an hour and never stop for a second."

This is not to say these statements are necessarily false. The first half hour of "Temple of Doom" is in fact a real crowd pleaser, mixing elements of action, suspense, and humor. I suspect much of this would still work well with modern audiences in getting the appropriate responses. It is also my favorite parts of the movie, demonstrating the greatest sense of charm and style, and paying homage to Hollywood escapism from the 1930s and the movie serials that proceeded it. "The Temple of Doom" owes as much to Fritz Lang's "The Spiders" (1919) as anything else.

"The Temple of Doom" sets the stage with a musical number of Cole Porter's Anything Goes, from his 1935 Broadway show of the same title. It helps to immediately establish its 1930s escapism and reveals Spielberg's intention - and promise - that this movie will turn into a roller coaster where anything goes! Interestingly the song, sung by nightclub singer Willie Scott (Kate Capshaw) is done in Mandarin, since they are in Shanghai. Is this a commentary on Hollywood's worldwide influence? As well as a reminder of the corporate takeover of the movie industry, reflective of Reagan's America? In the 1980s Hollywood lost its independent spirit from the previous decade. Directors began to lose some control over their films, while the studios became stronger. The 1980s as a whole saw a decline - both commercially and critically - in the work of Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman, Peter Bogdanovich, and Francis Ford Coppola. All giants of the prior decade. Meanwhile Spielberg achieved some of his greatest commercial success in the decade as either director or producer - "E.T." (1982), "The Goonies" (1985), "Back to the Future" (1985), and "Raiders of the Lost Ark".

The opening sequence in "The Temple of Doom" has the distinct feel of an espionage thriller with Indiana Jones as something of a suave James Bond-type secret agent. He has been hired by a crime boss, Lao Che (Roy Chiao), to retrieve the remains of an emperor. In exchange Jones will receive a priceless diamond. As in any good spy movie there is a double cross in the works and Jones has been poisoned. Che and some of his henchmen have to be beaten and killed in order for Jones to get his hands on the antidote. That is if Willie will get out of his way long enough, instead of searching for the diamond, which has been tossed aside on the nightclub's dancefloor.

Here we get our first glimpses into the movie's "dark side", which was criticized at the time. "The Temple of Doom" is at times a parade of intense violence and disturbing images. Such as when Jones grabs a flaming skewer and throws it into a man's chest, instantly killing him. This is contrasted with a sense of playful silliness orchestrated by Spielberg with Jones scattering around frantically for the antidote while Willie scatters around with equal zest for the diamond. And there is Jones' quick thinking ways to avoid bullets being shot at him.

Soon enough though Jones and Willie escape the nightclub - called the Club Obi Wan (get the "Star Wars" reference) - in high octane fashion as Spielberg introduces us to one of his favorite character types - the precocious kid. In "The Temple of Doom" that character is Short Round (Ke Huy Quan). Short Round is driving the get-a-way car, even though his feet can barely hit the gas pedal. We go from the excitement of the nightclub violence to a fast paced car chase. Spielberg is craftily accelerating the presence of danger.  I would imagine however the real purpose of the Short Round character is to present a soft side to Jones, especially after we've seen him kill a man, and create the illusion of a family between Jones, Willie, and the kid. Swiss Family Robinson they are not.

The Shanghai portion of the movie ends as Jones and company fly away on a plane unknown to them being flown by two of Lao's henchmen, creating another rousing action sequence involving jumping out of a plane with a water raft as a substitute parachute. As our trio of heroes are now in India. In the village they have arrived in great tragedy has struck. A sacred stone has been stolen along with all of the children. The villagers, believing God has sent Jones, plead with him to retrieve it. Combing the horror of the situation with light comical touches in the way Jones is greeted made me think of a similar scene in "Return of the Jedi" (1983) when C-3PO is mistaken for a God.

In between these moments of action two other layers are being developed in the background. One involves a clumsy and underdeveloped attraction between Jones and Willie. I suppose the idea here was to replicate the formula from old romantic comedies where two characters seemingly hate each other only to end up falling in love. In those movies however the audience was given a hint there was a romance slowly building. In "The Temple of Doom" this outburst a lust and attraction comes out of left field. Even Pauline Kael noticed this commenting, "It seems as if they're getting together just because they're male and female."

Additionally "The Temple of Doom" almost goes out of its way to make a fool out of Willie. Much of the movie's humor involves deriding her. She screams and hollers at every turn as the movie provides an onslaught of misfortune and embarrassment at her feet. She is routinely attacked and harassed by animals from elephants to bats and snakes. There was been a long tradition of trying to knock down beauty by demoralizing a character. In more modern times I noticed similar treatment given to Beth Behrs' character on the sitcom "2 Broke Girls". It can also be interpreted as a subtle attack on class with the wealthy character being humiliated and their ego deflated. In one popular scene the three characters are in the jungle as Jones and Short Round are playing cards, arguing about which one of them is cheating. While this is happening Willie encounters a bat face to face. She screams in fright, running in the background from one side of the frame to the next. She faces a baboon next and finally an owl. All the while the boys argue about their game and even take time to acknowledge the thing they don't like about Willie is all the noise. Indeed the sequence is expertly shot and framed. But after everything else we have seen prior it simply feels like beating a dead horse. How much more can we poke fun at Willie and never provide her with a moment to redeem herself?

It turns out there is a great deal more to be done with Willie. Later in the movie we get to a dinner scene at the palace. Our guests are feed an exaggerated assortment of unsavory animals from monkey brains, huge beetle like insects, to snakes and soup with eyeballs. I won't go as far as some and claim this is culturally insensitive but it is a barrage of disgusting images. I understand it is meant to be funny. And it might be to 12 year old boys but it is also meant to be unsettling. Pay attention and notice it is only Willie we get to see react to the meal. Jones is never shown having to eat this. What do you think that implies? What purpose do you think it serves? Go beyond the surface and intellectually dishonest justification that it is merely funny.

Whatever lightheartedness these sequences may offer to some viewers, "The Temple of Doom" makes a dramatic shift in tone when we are introduced to the high priest Mola Ram (Amrish Puri), who is responsible for stealing the sacred stone. He and his cult are engage in a human sacrifice ritual. At one moment Mola removes a man's heart and holds it in his hand. The stolen children are shown to be treated like slaves constantly whipped. It wouldn't surprise me if young children were scared by these images.

However it is from approximately this moment on I lost all interest in the movie. Any joy in this story is gone and the movie is stringed together by a series of action sequences I thought resemble something from a video game. There is a long sequence with the characters in an ore cart being chased by the bad guys. It looks like a roller coaster ride one would find at Universal Studios. It is just a brainless sequence that reminded me of a scene from "Return of the Jedi" again. In that movie there is a chase sequence in a forest with characters riding on flying motorcycles. To me it feels like Spielberg is letting the special effects get the best of him, overtaking the flimsy story.

Of course it makes no difference about what I say, Steven Spielberg in the 1980s was a pop cultural phenomena. If we can claim one director defined a decade, Spielberg was 80s cinema. And "The Temple of Doom" is a beloved picture with many defenders ranging from Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert - who even dedicated an entire episode of their At the Movies television show to Spielberg - to Jeffrey Lyons, Neal Gabler, and Pauline Kael. However there has been some modern revaluating of the picture, with some finding political correctness flaws with it. "Movie critic" Matt Zoller Seitz, than writing for the New York Press mentioned in a review of Spielberg's "The Terminal" (2004) that Spielberg inadvertently suggests "deep down, everyone shares his white, suburban, middle-class American value system. Seitz goes on to interpret "The Temple of Doom"s ending as "the white hero returning liberated Indian slave children to a once-barren village now dotted with lush green foliage - an ad for imperalist do-goodery, some four decades after the British left India." In an article written by Scott Tobias for The Guardian, he admits with modern eyes the movie feels like "an ill-considered mixed of leaden romance, gross-out comedy and a level of cultural insensitivity that edges into the grotesque."

I'd never been much of a fan of Spielberg's movies from the 1980s. To me he was nothing more than a hit-maker. A director that made soulless commercial art, devoid of any true personal touches and feeling. He drew on a love of the history of movies, not to enrich his own but to copy and paste them. Spielberg said as a child it was one of Cecil B. DeMille's pictures that made him fall in love with the movies. There is no better comparison than DeMille and Spielberg. DeMille was - unfairly - criticized by his contemporaries as a hypocrite lashing out about religious morality but flooded his own movies with sex and violence. More importantly, he was considered a director who created spectacles. And that is what Spielberg does. It wasn't until "Schindler's List" (1993) my feelings toward his work began to change.

It's hard not to see the impact Spielberg has had on American movies. He was responsible for the "big event" picture. There is a direct line between "The Temple of Doom" and today's comic book movies. With each looking to combine elements of action and laughter. Creating seemingly cynical beaten down heroes who somehow always find love. And finally by connecting technology with art. Spielberg didn't create the clichés found in his movies but because of a general lack of interest in film history, younger generations of filmmakers glob onto what they believe are "Spielberg touches".

"The Temple of Doom" was nominated for two Academy Awards, winning one for its visual effects. The other nomination was for John Williams' score. It was co-written by Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck, who would both go on to write the infamous "Howard the Duck" (1986), which George Lucas was also an executive producer on. Huyck directed "Howard" as well and never made another movie afterwards. The Indiana Jones franchise however has lived on. A third movie was released called "The Last Crusade" (1989). That seemingly put an end to the movies, completing a trilogy. But either due to nostalgia or an insatiable desire for money, the franchise has been revived. After 19 years a new Jones adventure was released, "Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" (2008) and more recently, "The Dial of Destiny" (2023).  

"Indiana Jones & The Temple Of Doom" is a brainless, cheap thrills action movie. It is well made. There is no denying Steven Spielberg's visual eye but this is far from a truly artistic, quality movie. It can described as a fun, crowd pleaser, in certain moments, but should not be viewed as anything more than somewhat pleasant popcorn entertainment, at best. Lets not elevate it to something greater along with the other movies released in 1984.

Film Review: After the Rehearsal - 40th Anniversary

"After the Rehearsal"

**** (out of ****)
 
"Everything can happen, everything possible and probable. Time and place do not exist; on an insignificant basis of reality the imagination spins, weaving new patterns; a mixture of memories, experiences, free fancies, incongruities and improvisations." 

August Strindberg, A Dream Play

For me this quote from A Dream Play is the secret to de-coding Ingmar Bergman's "After the Rehearsal" (1984), a surreal mediation focused on love, life, death, the arts, and the blurry lines between fantasy and reality.

It is not unlike Bergman's previous work, "Fanny & Alexander" (1983), a five hour mini-series for Swedish television, that was edited down to three hours for theatrical release. It was intended to be Bergman's swan-song. Many interpret that movie to be about childhood (I don't). The film is named after two young siblings. With "After the Rehearsal", also a film for Swedish television, Bergman has reversed it. It is now an elder stage director faced with mortality and personal demons. A previous relationship with an actress seems to be utmost on his mind.

I've watched "After the Rehearsal" three times in my life. The first time as a teenager, deeply under Bergman's spell. The second and third time were recently, preparing for this review. I picked up on things I hadn't in my youth but I'll be damned if I know what is real and what is fantasy in the film.

The older stage director, Henrik (Erland Josephson) discusses the upcoming production of A Dream Play - the director's fifth adaptation - with the young actress, Anna (Lena Olin) alone in the empty theater, after a day of rehearsal. They sit and discuss many things - some involving the play and others not - there up on the stage among many props. Is this Bergman's way of telling us all of life is a stage? The director and the actress are products of the theater. Living for and consumed by it. They too are props. And so the audience never knows what is part of the play and what is real life? When they speak on the stage, how does the audience know what is a performance and what isn't? That most likely is Bergman's intention. As a theme it fits in nicely with the great filmmaker's cannon of films. Vincent Canby, movie critic for the New York Times put it this way in his review of the film, "That is, the vantage point of the artist, nearing the end of a long and very successful career, for whom his art - the theater and his work in it - is life and everything else has the effect of illusion."

During their conversation we learn Anna is the same age as Henrik's daughter and Anna's mother was an actress who worked with Henrik. Anna goes on to reveal she hated her mother, who is now deceased. These words seem to pierce Henrik. Anna's harshness turns Henrik inward. He is shocked by her lack of sympathy. He becomes lost, gazing out at the empty theater for his own confession, "At my age you lean forward and your head is inside another reality. The dead are not dead, the living are like ghosts. What was obvious a minute ago is queer and obscure."

It is around this time I believe "After the Rehearsal" unveils itself as a story all in the mind of Henrik. Anna is a concoction his mind has created to represent both Rakel (Ingrid Thulin), an actress he once had an affair with, and the possible daughter she may have had.

For me this interpretation of the film is further solidified when Henrik explains the "silence of the stage" to Anna. "Listen to the silence" he says "Imagine all the mental energy, all the feelings, the laughter and rage and passions. It is all still here. Shut in. Living its secret, continuous life. Sometimes I hear them. I imagine I see them." All of this will play out by the end of the film. We will see moments of rage and passion and laughter. These are the ghosts, haunting Henrik. Like Isak Borg in "Wild Strawberries" (1957), Henrik will have to relive and confront painful moments from his life. But, unlike that old professor from "Wild Strawberries", Henrik can use the theater and the arts to express his pain.

Much is made in the film of authenticity. Of characters being able to sincerely express themselves and their feelings. In the film they call it giving a "private performance". The idea of an actor always being "on". Anna mentions to Henrik once when her parents were fighting, her mother threw in a line from a play. In a moment of anger the daughter tells the mother, "Don't put on an act. It's a waste of effort". This leads the mother to breakdown and declare, "This is the only way I can express myself. Real or unreal. I suffer and I'm lonely."

It is at this moment another character enters the stage. It is Rakel. Anna now sits silently, never looking at the Rakel or Henrik, only blankly staring forward. Neither Henrik nor Rakel at this point acknowledge Anna's presence. What is the cause of Anna's behavior? Rakel flirtatiously suggest to Henrik they make love. He rejects her offer. Why would the woman speak so freely in front of Anna? Are we to assume at this moment, this Anna's mother? Did Henrik have an affair with this woman? If this weren't surreal enough the next time we see Anna she has been transformed into a child. We can further ask, if this is a dream, whose dream is it? Anna or Henrik's? Is Anna imagining a private conversation her mother and Henrik may have had? Does she suspect Henrik is her father?

Once Rakel leaves the stage we are back to Anna (transformed back to an adult) and Henrik. The tone of their conversation changes. Soon Henrik reveals he is jealous of a man Anna is living with and becomes momentarily heartbroken after she confesses to be pregnant with a child. I can only interpret this as Henrik transposing Rakel and Anna into one. Nothing leading up to this moment has suggested Anna is living with someone. She shows no signs of being pregnant and there is not a hint of romantic interest between the two that would cause jealousy in Henrik.

In Roger Ebert's four star Chicago Sun-Times review of the film, Ebert believes this moment with the pregnancy reveal hits at the heart of the film. He interprets the film as Bergman's way of saying he sacrificed so much for his art above all else, describing Henrik as "an artist who has sacrificed many lives for the sake of his art, and now wonders if perhaps one of those lives was his own." If this is in fact the true meaning of the film, I believe another scene earlier expresses this more directly. Henrik is questioned about his treatment of actors and responds by saying, "In life, or let us say reality, many have been hurt by my rough treatment. And I by theirs."

Before watching "After the Rehearsal" I read Bergman's autobiography, The Magic Lantern. As I was watching the film my confusion began to heighten. So much of what was said in the film, I read in Bergman's book. I double checked to make sure I wasn't remembering a chapter devoted to this movie. I wasn't. The book isn't structured that way as a film by film remembrance. So many words and incidents from the book were repeated in the film. Henrik explaining when he first became aware of the magic of acting was in Bergman's book. As was a line about rehearsing with actors and what would happen if Henrik ever removed his "mask". And most strikingly, a story in the book about a time Bergman was working on an adaptation of A Dream Play and an incident that occurred when an actress, Lena Olin none-the-less informed Bergman she was pregnant!

This all lead me to wonder, how much of Bergman's life has found its way into his movies? The torment of having engaged in an affair was very much on Bergman's mind even in his later years. He did in actuality have several affairs. Bergman somewhat returned to similar material for the film "Faithless" (2001), which he wrote the script for and was directed by Liv Ullman, who was not only a star in many of his films but also the mother of one of his nine children. That film, while equally emotional and confessional, was a much more direct telling of an affair with fewer surreal moments.

"After the Rehearsal" is not remembered as one of Ingmar Bergman's great films. It seems as if some completely forgot its existence, insisting "Fanny & Alexander" was Bergman's last film theatrically released in the United States until "Saraband" (2005), a sequel to "Scenes From A Marriage" (1974). For no other reason that is why I wanted to honor it for its 40th anniversary. I have named dropped the film in some of my other Bergman reviews and did place it on my runner's up list of the best films of the 1980s. My appreciation for the film has only grown. I now view it as a deeply personal and self-reflective film. Bergman bares much of himself in this screenplay, leading me to completely agree with Canby, who ended his review stating this may well be another Bergman classic. Legendary critic Andrew Sarris took it a step further calling it one of Bergman's greatest films in his Village Voice review and named it the best film of 1984.

If there are flaws with "After the Rehearsal" it is the production values and the running time. Being made for TV the film doesn't look as polished as Bergman's theatrical films. And at a mere 72 minutes, it feels too short. These were also some criticisms Chicago Tribune  critic Gene Siskel had with the film when he gave it a thumbs down (!) rating on the television program, At the Movies.

Forty years later "After the Rehearsal" has lost none of its power. It is a more revealing look at the life of an artist and dedication to that art than any film made today. Sadly today we view the artist differently in society. Films like this have fallen out of fashion. How interesting though that in 1984 alone we had two absorbing films centered on an artists and their art. Milos Forman's "Amadeus" (1984) would be the other. Both would make my list of the best films of 1984.

Film Review: Pulp Fiction - 30th Anniversary

 "Pulp Fiction"

*** (out of ****)

Two hitmen are in the middle of finishing a job when an undetected person comes charging out of a bathroom, gun a blazing, aimed at the both of them. Every bullet misses them. The hitmen, stunned and bewildered, fire back. They don't miss. To one of the men this was an act of God, a miracle. How could they have survived that?

In the next scene, as they continue to discuss their experience, a gun accidentally goes off, killing a third person in a car. If it truly was an act of God that spared the hitmen their lives, why did God allow the innocent passenger to be killed in the car? This is Quentin Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction" (1994), a story of random chaos and chance encounters. 

Celebrating its 30th anniversary, "Pulp Fiction" could arguably rank among the most popular and influential films of the 1990s. Striking movie audiences and "movie critics" alike with the force of a thunderbolt, "Pulp Fiction" was viewed as a fresh and exciting film with a frenetic energy. The questions to ask all of these years later is how well does it hold up and what impact did it have on our film culture?

When "Pulp Fiction" was released, Quentin Tarantino's biography was as much a part of the story as the film itself was. It was widely reported in movie reviews that Tarantino had no formal film education. He was a video store clerk with a passion for watching films. That became part of the marketing for "Pulp Fiction" and its success, the rise of a new voice in cinema representing a generation that would come to be known as the "VHS generation" in some circles. Or as "movie critic" Godfrey Cheshire put it in his New York Press review, "Ever since Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino has been intuited as not just a filmmaker but something larger, a phenomenon of the sort the medium periodically calls forth to announce a change in generations".

But how revolutionary was "Pulp Fiction"? And what specifically in its film techniques suggested an expansion of the medium? In other words, what did it do differently? How did it change storytelling in cinema? For some, they believed the way the movie played around with time structure was innovative. It wasn't though. The greatest prior example might be Orson Welles and "Citizen Kane" (1941). In Armond White's (God forgive me for quoting the Rush Limbaugh of film criticism) review of Stanley Kubrick's "The Killing" (1956), White draws comparison to Kubrick's use of plot structure and characters and Tarantino's as such, "He also fit them into a devious, startling plot structure that jumbles and repeats the time and sequencing of the robbery." He goes on to add, "This innovation is what Quentin Tarantino imitated in Pulp Fiction and even less well in Jackie Brown. Apparently all of the '90s film critic fraternity overlooked Tarantino's theft." Jeffrey Lyons, on the post Siskel & Ebert version of PBS' Sneak Previews, declared he "hated every frame" of "Pulp Fiction" and shrugged off Tarantino's wide-spread acclaim as a case of The Emperors New Clothes. Thirty years ago that was a shocking statement. Heck, a couple of months ago I would have felt Lyons really missed the mark. But now, during the year of Was I Right? on this blog - a year long re-examination of previous top ten choices over the years - sentiments like this aren't so outrageous.

This is not to say "Pulp Fiction" is a bad movie or Tarantino is a talentless hack. If anything it speaks to the film culture of the time and the mob mentality of "movie critics" (AKA sheep) who created a ginned up enthusiastic frenzy. It might be understandable if there was a consensus in the 90s that Hollywood was going stale. That great films weren't being made. But that's not the case. The previous movie year, 1993, was cited as a breakthrough year. For example, in his Chicago Tribune article, celebrating the best movies of 1993, Gene Siskel wrote, "It was a great year for movies, the best since the '70s, the last golden era of world filmmaking." In his famed partner's Chicago Sun-Times recap, Roger Ebert echoed the '70s comparison - "The movies seemed alive, in 1993, to their possibilities. The best ones weren't just marking time by doing a good job of the same old things; they were experimenting, taking chances in a way that reminded me of the golden age of the early 1970s."

And speaking of the 1970s and 1993 specifically, a movie that in some ways is comparable to "Pulp Fiction" is Robert Altman's (a '70s filmmaking maverick) "Short Cuts" (1993) - another movie I recently rewatched for "Was I Right?". "Short Cuts" was a story about the choices we make and the lasting impact of those decisions. Both movies featured interconnecting stories set in L.A. about random acts that define us and dealt with death, violence, and sex. However, Altman's film was an examination into American morality and humanity. "Pulp Fiction" makes no such statements. For me, that's what, on second look, prevents "Pulp Fiction" from being something greater. Ultimately, what does "Pulp Fiction" have to say?

In a contrasting opinion, Gene Siskel felt "Pulp Fiction" did contain humor and humanity, a humanity he says that was missing from Tarantino's first directorial effort, "Reservoir Dogs" (1992). But I see no humanity present in Tarantino's work. I see no commentary on society and / or our social interactions. Is Tarantino using excessive violence as a way to critique American culture? The great filmmaker Sam Peckinpah was a controversial filmmaker in the 1960s and 70s, often accused of glamorizing violence. His technique was to show these acts in slow motion, something John Woo would do later on. But Peckinpah's violence in films such as "The Wild Bunch" (1969) and "Straw Dogs" (1971) did serve as a commentary on the culture and masculinity. Not so in Tarantino's hands.   

What defines Tarantino's work in "Pulp Fiction" is not a social or political commentary but a combination of fast energy, shock value, and urban black culture. This is almost perfectly captured in the movie's opening title sequence, where we the song Misirlou, performed by Dick Dale (fast energy) transition, in a not so smooth fashion, to a recording of Kool & the Gang's "Jungle Boogie" (black culture).

Tarantino and "Pulp Fiction" are a lot like that recording by Dale however. This version of Misirlou is a cover. Song recordings of it actually date back to the 1920s. The version I am most familiar with was done by Jan August in the 1940s. This shouldn't come as a surprise to long time readers of this blog, who will know my father is a musician and the music I was most acquainted with growing up was jazz and all that falls under its umbrella - swing, dance bands, New Orleans jazz, ragtime..etc. This recording of Misirlou is radically different than previous versions, picking up the tempo and creating a rock sound to it. While it sounds different, its melody is rooted in the past. Tarantino, in similar fashion, is taking something pre-existing and putting his own spin on it. Armond White, as hyperbolic as ever, calls it "theft" but it is Tarantino drawing "inspiration" from the great works of cinema's past, paying homage.

I hadn't watched "Pulp Fiction" in many years but certain things stuck out in my memory - the non-linear structure, the conversation about what they call a quarter-pounder with cheese in France, the dance sequence between Travolta and Uma Thurman,  and the bondage / rape scene. But more importantly what I remembered was the feeling I had watching the movie. It was exhilarating. My teenager self thought it lived up to expectations. But in my old age of 106 (forty-one actually, but I feel 106) I couldn't recall what the movie was about. What did it have to say? What were the themes of "Pulp Fiction"? The memorable sequences in my mind didn't tell a full story. When you added them all up, what did it tell us? And so, as I prepared of this review, I was going to take a closer look at the film. I was determined to figure out what was going on.

"Pulp Fiction" is a story about bizarre circumstances that are somehow linked together. A hitman kills a man that comes out of a bathroom and yet the same hitman is killed when he walks out of one. A character buys heroine that he brings with him on a date. The date secretly finds it and overdoses. A gangster wants to have a man killed but that same man ends up saving the gangster's life. One of the hitmen asks a potential victim if he thinks their boss is a bitch because, metaphorically, he is fucking him like one. Naturally there will be a scene where the boss is in fact fucked like a bitch. And on and on it goes. Life is a seemingly random set experiences and yet there is a pattern. Somehow it all connects. The great New York Times movie critic, Janet Maslin, described the "Pulp Fiction" experience as it "leaves its viewers with a stunning vision of destiny, choice, and spiritual possibility." 

It is a little difficult to neatly lay out the plot for you without revealing too many of its twists. The cast of characters include two hitmen; Vincent (John Travolta) and Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) who work for a kingpin named Marsellus (Ving Rhames). Then there is Marsellus's wife, Mia (Uma Thurman), a pro boxer named Butch (Bruce Willis), a drug dealer (Eric Stoltz), a fixer named The Wolf (Harvey Keitel) and a couple of small time robbers (Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer). Their paths will cross throughout the course of the film.

Another aspect of Tarantino's film that received a lot of praise was the screenplay. In his Great Movies review Roger Ebert wrote, "Dialogue drives Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction - dialogue of such high quality it deserves comparison with other masters of spare, hard-boiled prose, from Raymond Chandler to Elmore Leonard." I can't agree with the assessment of "high quality" any longer. Tarantino's screenplay and his approach to dialogue, walks a fine line, trying to create a balance between movie geek hipness and dark humor. Tarantino's dialogue is chock-full of pop culture references, dragged out "movie logic", to an extreme, countered by acts of violence. Why would two hitmen on their way to murder a group of people be talking about McDonalds menu items? You see they are so hip and cool, killing is second nature to them. They can have casual conversations just like you and I. 

Given these characters, unfortunately, what the dialogue lacks is grittiness, in the sense of street smarts, and a naturalistic quality, like what can be found in Martin Scorsese's films such as "Mean Streets" (1973) and "GoodFellas" (1990). But that's not Tarantino objective. This isn't meant to be realistic dialogue. Tarantino wants to shock us with his offensive language and "humor". How else do you describe his own character's appearance in the film, throwing around the "n" word? He doesn't say it once but repeatedly, completely out of left field. Is it meant to give the film edge? Is it supposed to sound natural, as if this is how the character would speak in front of a black man? He stands opposite Samuel L. Jackson in the scene. Is it funny? I won't go as far as some, at the time, and say Tarantino is a racist. The use of the word within itself doesn't bother me however. I didn't mind it when Tarantino did it again in "Django Unchained" (2012) or when Mel Brooks did it in "Blazing Saddles" (1974). In those instances it was a reflection of the time period the films were taking place in. In "Pulp Fiction" though, in this particular scene, I fail to see its necessity. 

And that's the problem when I look back on "Pulp Fiction". I fail to see why I am supposed to think this is a remarkable film. Why did the American Film  Institute (AFI) place it on its list of the 100 Greatest American Films? Why was it nominated for seven Academy Awards? Why did Tarantino and co-writer Roger  Avary win the Oscar for best screenplay? Why did so many critics - Siskel & Ebert, Michael Wilmington, Janet Maslin, Andrew Sarris - rank it among the best films of 1994? To my own amazement, I don't believe "Pulp Fiction" holds up after multiple viewings. It was a "you had to be there" moment, to fully appreciate its significance on pop culture. But once the dust has settled, does it really seem so revolutionary now?

I suppose I shouldn't have been astonished by my reaction to the film all these years later. Without the need of "Was I Right?", in contemporaneous time I've noticed my appreciation of Tarantino's films slipping. The last film he released I placed on my top ten list was "Kill Bill Vol. 1" (2003). The last movie I awarded four stars to was "Kill Bill Vol. 2" (2004). But every movie thereafter - "Inglourious Basterds" (2009), "Django Unchained", "The Hateful Eight" (2015) - they all thrilled me less and less. I initially told myself, the problem is Tarantino is a contemporary filmmaker. These period pieces don't suit his style. He needs to make movies about thugs and low-lives. But maybe I was just growing tired of his style. The techniques used in "Pulp Fiction" have been duplicated in his other films. Proving this technique wasn't intricate to "Pulp Fiction" but just Tarantino's way of storytelling. Nothing he directed since has ever really captured the movie world the same way "Pulp Fiction" did.

"Pulp Fiction" has a certain value as "popcorn entertainment" but shouldn't be viewed as a great artistic effort. And that's the problem and the impact "Pulp Fiction" has had on film culture. Young "artists" or money hungry hacks that were influenced by "Pulp Fiction" misread whatever its appeal was. It has resulted in movies with no brains and heavy violence. The ante has constantly been raised to the point "Pulp Fiction" seems quaint. I didn't find its images disturbing. But Tarantino and "Pulp Fiction" are responsible for recent movies such as "Gunpowder Milkshake" (2021), "The Villainess" (2017), and "Kate" (2021).

We see the Tarantino touch surprisingly most prominent in children's animation with dialogue peppered with pop culture reference, that often go above the target audience's heads, aiming for their parents, and sometimes filled with double entendres not appropriate for the youngsters. This is also seen in comic book adaptations as well.

Some will say I'm not being fair. Tarantino has been the inspiration for good movies like "Memento" (2000), "Run, Lola, Run" (1999) and "Amores Perros" (2000). Why? Because they played around with linear structure? Tarantino didn't invent that. I guess I never fully appreciated how many people associate Tarantino with this technique. Is Tarantino also responsible for society not having a  knowledge of film history?

When I was growing up I didn't like Steven Spielberg because I thought he was nothing more than a hit-maker. He wasn't a director that told personal stories instead duplicating moments from other films to create emotion in his. If I thought Spielberg had no depth, no soul than Tarantino has no heart. It would be interesting to rewatch all of Tarantino's films and see if that opinion remains.

Was I right about "Pulp Fiction"? I don't believe so. I shouldn't have placed it on my list of the best films of 1994 or my list of the best films of 1990s. "Pulp Fiction" isn't a bad movie. Tarantino has a visual eye. But this isn't a quality movie, deserving of so much admiration. Luckily I think 1994 was an excellent movie year so I will have plenty of options to replace "Pulp Fiction" on my list.

Film Review: Spotlight

 "Spotlight"

**** (out of ****)

Tom McCarthy's "Spotlight" (2015) was released at a time when there was great scrutiny - from the political left and right - regarding the media and its bias. It might explain why I initially was lukewarm in my evaluation of the film. "Spotlight, which I believed, followed the wrong story, was a film that wanted to turn the press (newspaper reporters) into heroes. The reporters were the great defenders of truth, the societal watchdogs that the media so often proclaims they are.

But after rewatching "Spotlight", largely thanks to this being the year of Was I Right? - my year long reexamination of my past top ten choices, or in the case of "Spotlight", its absence, to determine was I right? The answer to that question is no. I was wrong not to include "Spotlight" on my list of the top ten films of 2015, which has now been corrected. This is a film that explores themes of morality, ethics, guilt, and trauma. While it doesn't present this material in the most dramatic head-on manner, especially when compared to "The Look of Silence" (2015), Joshua Oppenheimer's documentary centered on a political genocide in 1960s Indonesia with the support of the U.S. government. "Spotlight" is still a thought-provoking work that illustrates the political and social pressures that influence investigative journalism.

Unfortunately, defenders of "Spotlight" minimized its scope declaring triumphantly the film was a showcase for the importance of the media. In his Chicago Sun-Times  review critic Richard Roeper wrote "it's one of the best movies I've ever seen about the art and science of newspaper reporting". Fellow Chicago "movie critic", Michael Phillips, in his Chicago Tribune review, opined "This one makes you believe in the mission, and the value a few journalists can bring to a society." While Wall Street Journal critic Joe Morgenstern hailed it, "a celebration of investigative reporting". With all making the comparison to "All the President's Men" (1976), the great film with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman about the reporting of the Watergate scandal. It would seem these "newspaper men" were more than eager to pat their profession on the back.

"Spotlight" works best however as a moral study into our individual responsibility to remain complacent, denying the truth from being heard. Despite the film revolving around a group of Boston Globe reporters uncovering a Catholic church sex scandal, "Spotlight" is about what happens when institutions - be it the church or the media - fail us. And that failure is not due to ignorance or incompetency. It is the result of a systematic effort to not challenge the status quo. 

Beginning in 1976, "Spotlight" opens in a Boston police station where a priest has been detained for child molestation. A church higher-up sits in another room with the mother of the child, as it is explained to her the priest will be sent to another parish. We hear two police officers relieved there isn't an army of reporters asking questions. Only one reporter, from a smaller paper, made some noise and was dismissed. The sequence implies the police, the D.A.'s office, and the church were all working in unison. To interfere with the church in Boston was tantamount to career suicide.

The film then jumps ahead to 2001, inside the Boston Globe newsroom. We learn there is a new editor-in-chief, Marty Baron (Liev Schreiber), an outsider who has worked at newspapers in New York and Miami. There is almost an immediate sense of tension. The newspaper business is in decline. The internet is cutting into readership. Editors Walter Robinson (Michael Keaton) and Ben Bradlee (John Slattery) have concerns this may lead to cuts in the paper's staff.

Robinson is the editor of a small team of investigator reporters within the paper - Sacha (Rachael McAdams), Mike (Mark Ruffalo), and Matt (Brian d'Arcy) - known for their long term investigating pieces under the name Spotlight. Marty would like the team to run a piece on the Boston Archdiocese, as a follow-up to an opinion column the paper has published. Why does the new editor want to look into the Catholic church? What's his agenda? Doesn't he know the Boston Globes' readership is 53% Catholic? Does it have anything to do with the fact Marty isn't from Boston and doesn't understand the ways of the city? Could it be because Marty is a Jew he wants to take down the Catholic church? This is what the audience is supposed to pick up on as many are hesitant to upset the church.

 

What initiates a newspaper to track down stories? Who makes the decision constituting what is "news"? Does the news outlet have an agenda? Murky answers to these type of questions explains why the church was able to cover-up this scandal as long as it did. Through the course of "Spotlight" we come to find out there was ample opportunity for the Boston Globe to crack open this scandal nearly a decade prior. But someone, for whatever reason (s), decided to sit on the story. Minimal reporting was done on the topic, just barely enough for the paper to sufficiently cover its ass - Hey we wrote a half page story on this and put it on page 53. What more do you want from us! 

This atmosphere creates a lively portrait of a city and its innerworkings. "Spotlight" makes us believe in these characters and feels as if it is providing us with an insider's understanding of a city, much like Clint Eastwood's "Mystic River" (2003) or Ben Affleck's "The Town" (2010), both of which take place in Boston. There is an emphasis on "Boston roots" running throughout the film. In one scene Sacha almost apologizes for being from Ohio, only to redeem herself by saying her mother was from Boston. Mike says he is from east Boston, but an attorney, Mitchell (Stanley Tucci) doubts him. He doesn't "sound" like he is from that part of the city, while the attorney himself admits, his family is Armenian. Robinson is the beloved son however. This is all meant to invoke a sense of a small town community. Like "Cheers" this is a place where everyone knows your name. There is an unspoken bond where trust is only given to fellow Bostonians. 

To capitalize on this the powers that be might be able to manipulate Robinson by playing on his Boston pride. Why follow direction from the paper's outsider Jewish editor? Who knows how long Marty will have the job. But Robinson has Boston in his blood. He'll be left behind and will have to live among the people he and his reporting have hurt. 

The Oscar winning screenplay, written by Josh Singer and McCarthy, also find ways to link Boston roots to Catholic upbringing. It isn't just the Boston Globe readership that is Catholic but so too are the reporters, though some describe themselves as "lapse Catholics". There is a stirring scene between Mike and Sacha as they discuss how the investigation is changing their view of the church. Sacha, who would attend church with her grandmother, has stopped going, while Mike, who claims to have liked going to church as a child, thought one day he would find the church again. Knowing what he knows now, he realizes he could never. It brings about an interesting dynamic involving knowledge versus faith. Can we still have blind faith, after we learn of the church's cover-up? How do you undo knowledge? Or would our faith cause us to turn a blind eye to bad behavior?

While much is accomplished by the film's screenplay  it is also the acting that contributes to the film's success. The terrific ensemble cements the perception of family. We almost feel as if these characters really don't have to speak in order to understand each other. We can pick up on the subtle gestures and veiled threats implied even among smaller characters portrayed by Paul Guilfoyle and Jamey Sheridan. Pay attention to a scene between Guilfoyle and Keaton's characters sharing a drink at a bar.

And yet there is still a part of me that believes my initial reaction to "Spotlight" was correct. It followed the wrong story. The heroes in the film aren't the reporters but the survivors who were willing to share their stories. As well as the insiders who had dealings with the church and tried to leak information to the press, to no avail. These individuals risked their careers. The reporters on the other hand would have simply been doing their job. It becomes an act of redemption for the reporters.

Some of the most emotional scenes involve the reporters listening to the stories of the victims. But there aren't enough of these scenes. I never felt I got an accurate understanding of the full scope of this scandal and the specifics on how the church handled the situations. Because the film followed the reporters too closely. Perhaps only in a documentary format can we fully comprehend the church's cover-up and the trauma experienced by the victims.

The film ends with the publication of the story just after Christmas. The editors think it might be a good idea to have some staff in the office in case anyone reading the article wants to reach to share their stories. Robinson and Matt decide to go into the office as well. They see an empty and quiet newsroom on the main floor. The phone is not ringing off the hook. When they walk towards the Spotlight section, they can't keep up with the calls. And so Robinson and Matt pitch in. To me this implies reporters can't take a victory lap. There's no time for congratulations. There are many more stories to tell and corruption to expose. Implying the diligent work reporters do.

"Spotlight" earned six Academy Award nominations - including among them for the performances given by McAdams and Ruffalo - and won best picture and best original screenplay. It also picked up three Golden Globe nominations and various Film Critic awards. Rex Reed, of the New York Observer, Joe Morgenstern, and Michael Phillips called it the best movie of the year in their annual top ten lists. New York Times critics Stephen Holden and A.O. Scott placed it on their top ten lists, as did Richard Roeper among many other "movie critics".

A lot of that praise is justified, although my personal favorite film of that year was "The Big  Short" (2015). "Spotlight" is not a perfect film. I wish it would have tackled its subject matter head on. But it is what happens in the background of the story that I found most interesting - uncovering how the city works, the relationships between all of these institutions and the various pressures applied, the media's moral responsibility and lack of action...etc. and the wonderful acting, especially by Michael Keaton, too bad he didn't get an Oscar nomination. He scored a one-two knock-out punch with back-to-back excellent performances here and in "The Founder" (2016).

I was wrong about "Spotlight", this is one of the best films of 2015.