Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear

The Negro Soldier

2012-01-29T11:38:00.000-08:00

During the terrible years of World War Two, the United States realized that if they were going to win the fight, then they would need more manpower than had ever been mustered before in their history. The government decided that despite segregation within their armed forces, they needed to do everything in their power to recruit African Americans. To achieve this end, the government hired none other than Frank Capra to head the production of a film unlike any other in history. It would be a film that would revolutionize the depiction of African Americans not only within the cinema, but in society as well. That film would be The Negro Soldier.

In hindsight, The Negro Soldier seems contrived and even manipulative in its depiction of African Americans and their contributions to American society.

You don't say...

The film is composed of two different testimonies delivered in the context of an African American church.

Don't be put off by his uniform, he has a lovely singing voice.

One Sunday morning, the minister (played by Carlton Moss, also the film’s writer) delivers a sermon directed at the African American servicemen currently in attendance. He then launches into a description of the various achievements made by African Americans throughout history: the athletes who beat Germany in the Berlin Olympic Games, Crispus Attucks being the first casualty of the Boston Massacre, the soldiers who fought and died in World War One. Moss deliberately emphasizes that African Americans were essential to the development of the United States, all the while ignoring such unpleasantries as slavery and civil rights violations. Curiously, the great African American abolitionists such as Frederick Douglass and heroes of the Underground Railroad such as Harriet Tubman are noticeably absent.

Carlton Moss addressing his congregation.

After Moss successfully riles the congregation up with reports of Nazis destroying French monuments to World War One African American soldiers, he is interrupted by a Mrs. Bronson who reads a letter from her recently enlisted son.

The Nazis destroying a French monument to African American soldiers.

What follows is a montage of the training undergone by African American soldiers. The son happily reports that he is treated very well and has significantly improved himself. He fails to mention how the Army is still heavily segregated. But that doesn’t seem to matter. The letter paints a picture of the Army as a massive machine full of men of every race fighting an unspeakable evil. As the letter ends, the congregation rises in song and we see soldiers marching off to war.

Mrs. Bronson reading a letter from her son.

As I said, The Negro Soldier and the world it presents where African Americans have equal rights and freedoms to white men seems contrived by today’s standards. But that’s because it actually was: The Negro Soldier was a carefully manicured illusion whose production was more fascinating than the actual film.

I know it's hard to tell from this image, but there are, in fact, several black men in this photo.

Let me start by acknowledging Thomas Cripps and David Culbert’s invaluable essay The Negro Soldier (1944): Film Propaganda in Black and White as the source for the following production details. Cripps and Culbert describe how when production began on The Negro Soldier in March 1942, Frank Capra asked the Research Branch to “draw up a list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ regarding the cinematic depiction of black.” The result was a list that included such things as:

-Avoid stereotypes such as the Negroes’ affinity for watermelon or pork.
-Avoid colored soldiers who are the most Negroid in appearance.
-Avoid such topics as Lincoln, emancipation, or race leaders/friends of the Negro.
-Include, but don’t play up too much, depictions of colored officers in command of troops.

My favorite part of this list is the last one concerning the depiction of “colored officers” which included the stunning side note: “The Negro masses have learned that colored men who get commissions tend to look down on the masses.” However, another request on the part of the War Department must also be noted: the deletion of a scene wherein a white nurse attends a black soldier. Even in their quest to revolutionize the depiction of African Americans in the cinema, the War Department was unwilling to challenge such a blatant racial and sexual taboo.

Of course, if both the nurse and the soldier were men, then it was apparently okay...

However, despite such difficulties, The Negro Soldier became a massive success. The film, while originally intended for black audiences, became mandatory viewing for all troops at replacement centers inside the United States. The film was still being shown as late as 1946, two years before Harry Truman’s desegregation order for the Army. Activist groups such as the NAACP and the National Negro Congress called The Negro Soldier “the best ever done” and clamored for it to receive a widespread distribution. The film was booked for church and civic functions by African Americans all over the country. In December 2011, The Negro Soldier was included in the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry, being cited as having “showcased the contributions of blacks to American society and their heroism in the nation’s wars, portraying them in a dignified, realistic, and far less stereotypical manner than they had been depicted in previous Hollywood films.”

Notice how none of them are carrying a banjo.

But is it right to praise The Negro Soldier considering that it was obviously made as a piece of Revisionist history that manipulated African Americans into the Army where untold thousands would eventually die? Consider this: what if in an attempt to lure homosexuals back into the Armed Forces with the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” was done with a film entitled The Homosexual Soldier? And what if in this film, homosexuals were depicted as having been crucial and indispensable to the development of American history while sidestepping their systematic abuse, prosecution, and intolerance at the hands of bigots? Do the ends justify the means? Who knows if that question can ever be answered. But one thing is certain: The Negro Soldier got results. If viewed strictly from that perspective, then The Negro Soldier is one of the most successful films of all time.

Fake Fruit Factory

2012-01-14T13:17:00.000-08:00

Directed by Chick Strand
1986
The United States of America

“If you want to make a documentary you should automatically go to the fiction, and if you want to nourish your fiction you have to come back to reality.” ― Jean-Luc Godard

The first job that I ever had was working as a cashier at a McDonald’s located right outside of the church where my father worked. The hours were long, the pay was low, and the work was incredibly tedious. Over the years, I would switch jobs several times, working as a Starbucks barista, a telemarketer for my college, and even doing a two year stint as a custodian for an elementary school. Though the jobs would change, they all had something in common: during particularly long shifts, after a few hours my mind would effectively turn off and I would start to do my work mechanically and automatically. In essence, it was as if my body went into autopilot. The whole world would glaze over as I would sink into the specifics of my routine. Little snatches of casual conversation would become islands in a sea of monotony. Fifteen minute breaks would become miniature vacations worth their weight in gold. And after a while, you learn to stop looking at the clock. I believe that anybody who has ever worked such a tedious kind of job has had experiences like that. Until you have actually gone out and done such work yourself, it is impossible for somebody to know what it feels like.

Don't mind us...we're just living what corporate America tells us is the American Dream.

Such a thing is virtually impossible to replicate in a fictional film. True, a director can get his actors to get all sweaty and greased up and do location shooting at a factory. Director Michael Cimino used this technique to transform Robert De Niro and Christopher Walken into steel workers in The Deerhunter (1978). But on a subconscious level, we all knew that once the shot was over, De Niro and Walken would retire to hot showers and a rest in their trailers.

Well...maybe not so much for Robert De Niro...the guy took his work kinda seriously.

Documentary filmmakers are somewhat more successful in capturing such experiences. Memories of the Maysles’ Salesman (1969) comes to mind. However, the inherent problem with the traditional documentary format is that they serve to witness a subject completely objectively. Discounting instances of documentaries designed to promote a political agenda, the documentary is designed to be a silent spectator. We can see people work monotonous jobs, but we can’t truly experience it.

After all, who wouldn't want to experience the life of a door-to-door Bible salesman?

So enters the role of the experimental filmmaker. Unfettered by traditional rules of cinematic orthodoxy, the experimental filmmaker can create works of art that are capable of transmitting atmospheres and emotions that fiction films and documentaries cannot. For proof, one would need to look no further than Chick Strand’s illuminating film Fake Fruit Factory (1986).

Another day, another fistful of pesos.

Bringing an “ethnographer’s eye” to the realm of documentary filmmaking, Strand creates a fascinating portrayal of Mexican women who toil to create decorative papier-mâché produce for a small handicraft company. Though barely 22 minutes in length, Fake Fruit Factory is the closest that I have ever seen a film come to truly capturing the atmosphere of mind-numbing, blue collar monotony.

It turns out not everything is made in China.

Made during a four year period of wandering between 1981 and 1985, Fake Fruit Factory watches as these poor Mexican women spend their days kneading plaster, painting fake watermelons, and watching their children. The women are employed by an American who casually jokes with them only to be mercilessly scorned and laughed at behind his back. Idle chat fills the air, usually about sex. We catch random figments of their various conversations:

-”Let’s do it again or else we’ll have to start from scratch.”
-”Patti is pregnant. The boss did it.”
-”They never cut them right.”
-”In sex?”
-”Are they good?...Two times?”
-”Their wives work and they sleep all day.”

At one point, the women are granted a brief reprieve when the boss takes them all to a pool where they bring their children and flirt with the men.

Surprisingly, they aren't quoting a song by The Beatles.

But it doesn’t last. Before long, they are back to hanging small pieces of fake fruit to dry in the sun. At the end of the film, a subtitle informs us that two weeks after the last pieces of footage were shot, the American boss skipped town with a blond blackjack dealer and his Mexican wife became wealthy after taking control of the factory. But I doubt that the women working under her really care. Different boss...same job...every single day.

I'm sure I could make a joke about scarcity of food in Mexico with this image...but I'm too classy for that.

So how does this film truly capture what it is like to work a mind-numbing job day-in and day-out? It does so by breaking almost all of the rules established by the majority of filmmakers who attempt to transcend the cinematic medium and capture a glimpse of real life. First, it is shot almost entirely in close-ups, focusing particularly on their hands and faces. The use of close-ups breaks the traditional role of the audience as mere spectators. We constantly squint and adjust our eyes to try and comprehend what we are seeing, transforming the act of viewing Fake Fruit Factory from being passive to active.

Can't...see...

Second, it frequently uses edits to carve up scenes into smaller pieces. Traditionally, edits create a distancing effect as they jar the audience from one image to another. In addition, the use of editing in and of itself denotes a subjective, and therefore biased, hand in the construction of a film, as they are used to focus our attention on scenes, locations, actions, and lines that (traditionally) serve to promote and further the film’s narrative. But when Strand combines her close-up shots with the liberal use of edits, we see a fragmented world that simultaneously captures real life and ignores it to create a symbolic one that encapsulates all members of the working class. It is both truth and lie, twisting our perception of the workers’ reality into something that we can truly experience alongside of them. This is how Fake Fruit Factory perfectly captures the zen of the 9-to-5 grind.

Source:
http://www.filmpreservation.org/preserved-films/screening-room/2011-nfr-fake-fruit-factory-1986

I, an Actress

2012-01-07T13:47:00.000-08:00

Directed by George Kuchar
1977
The United States of America

The term “camp” gets thrown around a lot these days. Many times, it is used to refer to things that are over-the-top, cheesy, or just plain silly. Visions of Adam West dancing the Batusi and reaching for bottles of Bat-Shark-Repellant immediately spring to mind. But what does it truly mean to be “camp?” The first time that the term appeared in 1909, it was defined as “ostentatious, exaggerated, affected, theatrical, and effeminate behaviour.” But that explanation doesn’t seem quite to fit what has come to be identified as “camp.” After all, those words could all be used to describe the acting techniques of Japanese Kabuki actors or performers of Chinese Opera. And yet, those art forms do not fit what has generally become accepted as “camp,” at least in the American cultural mind-frame where the term first arose. So, perhaps it is best to revisit the explanation given by one of the very first people who defined the idea in a modern context: Susan Sontag. She described it as a “love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration.” Sontag went on in her essay Notes on “Camp” to emphasis the aesthetic’s focus on “artifice, frivolity, naïve middle-class pretentiousness, and ‘shocking’ excess.” With this definition, conceiving the idea of “camp” becomes easier with certain filmmakers beginning to melt into focus. Memories of Edith Massey crying out for the Egg Man in John Waters’ Pink Flamingos (1972) and Faye Dunaway screeching about wire hangers in Frank Perry’s Mommie Dearest (1981) swim into view.

Sweet, delicious camp...just like mama used to make!

But where exactly can we place the first development of Sontag’s “camp” in cinema? For the answer to that question, one need look no further than an apartment in the Bronx in the early 1950s. Within that apartment lived George and Mike Kuchar, a pair of twins who made over 200 films in a career that spanned several decades. Beginning their lives as filmmakers before they were even teenagers, the twins made no-budget movies on 8 mm film stock. They were tributes to Hollywood excess, featuring improvised costumes, sets, and props. They frequently focused on shocking and graphic material. In one instance, George Kuchar was punished for making a film that had a transvestite in it. George explained his casting decision to his mother by saying that she “didn’t realize how hard it is for a 12-year-old director to get real girls in his movies.”

Stills from The Naked and the Nude (1957) the earliest surviving complete film by the Kuchar Brothers.

Within these films, the Kuchar’s developed what would come to be seen as the “camp” sensibility. Their incessant cheapness and proclivity for exaggeration slowly evolved into a kind of aesthetic. As Deborah Allison explained in an essay for Senses of Cinema, “Amongst a visual cornucopia of effusively lurid costumes, props and lighting, [their film’s] blatant phoniness feeds into an aesthetic where the “artificial” exists on the same plane as the “real.” Most critics point to George Kuchar’s Hold Me While I’m Naked (1966) as their ultimate masterpiece.

A scene from Hold Me While I'm Naked.

However, I’d like to draw attention to another one of George’s films that I feel is ultimately more valuable in its depiction of their contributions to “camp.” That film is I, an Actress (1977). Made while George Kuchar was working at the San Francisco Art Institute, I, an Actress was the result of a collaboration that he made with his students. One of his students, Barbara Lapsley, had desires to become an actress. As such, she requested to star in a short film that she could use to launch her new-found career. So one day, with ten minutes of class left, Kuchar arranged for Lapsley to feature in a classic Hollywood screen test. He gave Lapsley a script from a ludicrous melodramatic monologue, positioned her against a wall next to a draped post with a wig on top that would serve as her lover, and started the camera. The film then records the next ten minutes in real-time without any breaks. Lapsley starts out trying her best to act out the inconceivably hammy script with some semblance of dignity.

Lapsley's first attempt.

However, after only a few lines, George interrupts her and starts to give her off-screen directions.

A demonstration of the "George Kuchar Acting Method."

He tells her to be more passionate. Eventually, he walks into the frame and starts to give her explicit directions. He mimes how she should grope her breasts as she confesses to her “lover.” As they proceed, he starts interrupting her more and more often. Eventually, she can barely go one line before he interrupts her with more directions.

George Kuchar rubbing his breasts in order to show Lapsley how to properly sex it up.

George’s antics are absolutely hysterical. The only thing more entertaining than George is watching Lapsley try and make sense of his directions without cracking up and laughing. Watching her clench a cigarette in her teeth and sneering, “When I cheat it’s not for sex, it’s for revenge” is simply sublime.

“When I cheat it’s not for sex, it’s for revenge”

Soon, George gets her on the ground, flailing about in front of the post. Barely able to control her laughing, she yells, “aren’t you used to women on their knees, Harold, or are you only used to women on their backs?” And yet, it still isn’t enough for George. They get more and more frantic and over-the-top until everybody in the room, including the crew, are in fits of laughter.

Truly an Oscar-worthy performance.

It may seem strange to consider such an odd film which was clearly only an exercise for a class an essential part of cinematic history. Here’s the thing, though...this film serves as a kind of documentary of the Kuchar creative process. It was through these very antics that the aesthetic quality of “camp” truly evolved. In I, an Actress, we see the creation of “camp” before our very eyes: the exploitation of farcical melodrama. The aesthetic’s trademark self-awareness becomes more glaringly apparent than ever before with its creator in full view of the audience. “Camp” may be silly, over-the-top, and ridiculous. But through the efforts of the Kuchor Brothers in such films as I, an Actress, it is impossible to dismiss “camp” as unoriginal. Derivative? Yes. But “camp” transformed into something much more: a commentary, a celebration, and a cocktease of Hollywood conventions.

Sources:
http://www.loc.gov/today/pr/2011/11-240.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camp_%28style%29
http://www.filmpreservation.org/dvds-and-books/clips/i-an-actress-1977
http://www.sensesofcinema.com/2004/cteq/hold_me_while_im_naked/

A Cure for Pokeritis

2011-12-30T08:38:00.000-08:00

Directed by Laurence Trimble
1912
The United States of America

I apologize if these pictures are blurry. The only copy of this film that I could find was on youtube, so these were taken as screenshots on my MacBookPro.

He wears a poor fitting suit and vest and sports a smashed, battered old black hat. His face looks like somebody shoved a bicycle pump up his nose and used it until his cheeks, jowls, and nose became permanently inflated and disjointed from his skull. His wife isn’t much better off, either. Her head looks like somebody from the Amazon tried to shrink it but forgot to remove the skull first. Her nose juts forward with such force that it could probably be used as an icepick. Though they might seem unfamiliar to modern day audiences, these two faces were amongst the most recognizable by many of the earliest film audiences. For they were John Bunny and Flora Finch. Together, they starred in over one hundred short comedies for Vitagraph Studios. They were affectionately referred to by the public as “Bunnyfinches.” These films would comprise one of the earliest bodies of work by a silent comedian. Before Buster Keaton, before Charlie Chaplin, before the silent clowns that would be remembered and loved by generations of audiences and filmmakers, there was John Bunny. Widely considered to be the first comic star in the United States, with the aid of Flora Finch, John Bunny became one of the first pioneers of silent comedy.

If one would look for an example of Bunny’s work, they couldn’t do better than A Cure for Pokeritis. The film was a pristine summation of the John Bunny shtick. It starred Bunny as a husband hopelessly addicted to poker.

His affliction is so severe that he even tricks his wife, played by Finch, into believing that he is a member of a special society that would charge him $10 for each missed weekly meeting. But, alas, Bunny is a restless sleeper. One night, he confesses in his sleep to his grand deception. This was, of course, after he had sworn to stop playing poker. So his wife hires their Cousin Freddie to investigate Bunny’s “meetings.” Upon Freddie’s confirmation of Bunny’s illicit deeds, she convinces her Bible group to dress up like policemen and pretend to raid their game. So the Bible group dons fake uniforms and storms the game parlor.

After a few brief moments of putting the fear of God into their hearts, their wives come into the room and reveal the deception. Husbands and wives embrace and make up, Finch gently pets Bunny’s head, and all is right in the world.

Though the film only clocks in at about twelve minutes, it might seem difficult for modern audiences to sit through, especially ones expecting the polished humor of, say, Keaton or Chaplin. But that is because A Cure for Pokeritis wasn’t funny in the way that we expect silent comedies to be. The film contains no over-the-top slapstick, visual gags, or witty turns of phrase in the dialogue. Instead, audiences from the 1910s would have found humor simply in the situation. At the turn of the 20th century, fat comedians were seen as cute and cuddly. As a result, audiences would have found great amusement at watching a hapless John Bunny try and thwart his wife in the same way that we would laugh at a cat play with a particularly arrogant piece of string.

Films like A Cure for Pokeritis demonstrate the birthing pains of silent comedy. But it also serves as a prime example of early cinematic innovation. Take, for instance, the poker game raid scene. When the “police” arrive to “raid” the poker game, we see the inside of the parlor where the players are positioned in the foreground.

Establishing shot with the gamblers in the foreground and the servant in the background at the upper left.

Suddenly, their black servant enters from the left side of the background. Having spotted the police, he sneaks behind the players, alerts another patron, and exits to the right.

The servant escapes in the background while the players in the foreground remain oblivious.

A “policeman” sneaks up behind the oblivious gamblers using a coat-rack to hide himself.

The first policeman sneaks in while hiding behind a coat-rack.

He signals the rest of the “officers” into the room. Two other “policeman” sneak behind the unsuspecting victims before the rest of them come in and break up the game.

The "policemen" position themselves before they attack.

This might seem like a trivial, commonplace scene to modern viewers. But consider that in 1912, most films were still operating under the tyranny of theatrical staging, blocking, and acting. As a result, most of these early films operated within one depth of field with their characters occupying the foreground. This scene is an early example of a filmmaker simultaneously carrying out a scene in two different depths of field. Even more interesting is how it is used to create a comedic situation. So, this scene demonstrates an early, primordial comedic language that existed explicitly within the realm of cinema.

I understand that this might be a little difficult to understand for people unversed in cinematic language, so allow me to elaborate. If such a scene was blocked and choreographed on-stage, it would have to be done in a way so that every audience member, regardless of whether they are up front or in the balconies, could see all of the action. Therefore, simply having the characters walk behind each other for comedic effect wouldn’t be prudent, considering that audience members in the front of the theater would have their view blocked by the characters in the foreground. But the cinema creates a flat spatial plane wherein every single audience member, regardless of their position in the theater, can get the exact same view of the action. As a result, there is no need to compensate for people who are closer to the screen. This frees the filmmaker to create multiple depths of field within the frame that can act independently of each other. Such a division would be nearly impossible to reconstruct on a traditional flat stage. So this scene in A Cure for Pokeritis uses the limitations of a fixed view to its advantage in order to create a comedic scene that is inherently cinematic.

While A Cure for Pokeritis may seem boring and contrived today, it remains a crucial piece of cinematic history. It represented early efforts to utilize the silver screen as a transmitter of comedy instead of just historical dramas, newsreels, and stage reproductions. Through such films, John Bunny helped make the movies funny. All silent comedians and their modern-day counterparts owe a great deal of debt to him. It is our duty as film lovers to preserve and commemorate such an important talent and his films...even if they don’t seem funny anymore.

Part One

Part Two

Announcement: Four From the Vault

2011-12-29T11:59:00.000-08:00

Well, folks...it's near the end of 2011. That means that another 25 films have been added to the Library of Congress' National Film Registry! To be included in the National Film Registry is one of the highest honors that a film can receive. I'll let the Library of Congress' website explain:

"Under the terms of the National Film Preservation Act, each year the Librarian of Congress names 25 films to the National Film Registry that are "culturally, historically or aesthetically" significant. "These films are selected because of their enduring significance to American culture," said Billington. "Our film heritage must be protected because these cinematic treasures document our history and culture and reflect our hopes and dreams."

Some of the films chosen for inclusion this year are established classics, such as:
- Bambi (1942)
- The Big Heat (1953)
- Forrest Gump (1994)
- The Iron Horse (1924)
- The Kid (1921)
- The Lost Weekend (1945)
- Norma Rae (1979)
- The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
- Stand and Deliver (1988)
- Twentieth Century (1934)
- War of the Worlds (1953)

However, many of this year's entries were films that I had never heard of. In fact, many of them are films so obscure that I wouldn't be too surprised if almost nobody outside of academia had heard of them. So, over the next four weeks, I am going to be reviewing four of these movies. Get ready, folks! We've got some interesting reviews coming up here at Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear!

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

The Longest Day

2011-12-23T14:39:00.001-08:00

Directed by Ken Annakin, Andrew Marton, Bernhard Wicki, Gerd Oswald, Darryl F. Zanuck, John Wayne
1962
The United States of America

In hindsight, it's a little unfair that The Longest Day was destined to be released the same year as David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia. As a result, The Longest Day will always be overshadowed by the film that is said to be one of the greatest film epics of all time. And, really, that isn't fair. The Longest Day is one of the most ambitious and massive films ever produced by Hollywood. The film sported five screenwriters and a whopping six directors. The result: one of the finest war films ever made about World War Two. It seems inevitable that history will remember Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan as the definitive film about the D-Day Normandy landings. However, while Saving Private Ryan focused on a very small group of soldiers, The Longest Day encompasses the entirety of the forces involved in that terrible battle. The filmmakers brought in military consultants, many of whom actually fought during D-Day, from both the Allied and Axis camps. It is estimated that 23,000 troops were brought in from the American, British, and French armed forces for shoting. Darryl F. Zanuck, the principle director, effectively commanded more “soldiers” than any general did during the invasion. The film poster boasts 42 international stars, including John Wayne, Sean Connery, Henry Fonda, and Robert Mitchum. It cost $10,000,000 to make, earning it the title of most expensive black-and-white film ever made until 1993 and the release of Schindler's List.

But enough about the technical aspects. The true triumph of The Longest Day is how it compressed all of the events surrounding D-Day, including occurrences on both sides of the beach, into three hours. We see the Allied soldiers as they wait for the final order to cross the English Channel. We see the German command organize a desperate defense at the sight of the largest amphibious invading force in world history knock on Normandy's door. We see preliminary paratroopers landing behind enemy lines to sabotage German defenses. We see French Resistance members joining the struggle. We see the death and carnage on the beaches. And yet, at no point is the human element of the story lost. At all times we feel deeply connected to the characters onscreen, even if they are only there for a few minutes.

And really, it is the human element of D-Day that makes that historic event so fascinating. We know of the general specifics of the invasion and defense forces: 175,000 Allied troops and merely 10,000 German. And yet, it is so easy to forget that each of those troops had a story to tell on that horrible day. Thankfully, The Longest Day frames each element of the invasion with characters, many of which were based off real soldiers.

For instance, take the scenes detailing the paratroopers of the 82nd Airborne Division. During a night assault code-named “Mission Boston,” 6,420 paratroopers were dropped on both sides of the Merderet River on the French Cotentin Peninsula five hours before the landing crafts hit the beaches. Their job was to capture key locations in order to prevent reinforcements from reaching the German defenses. However, the drops went horrifically, with most of the troops completely missing their drop points. Many of these troops were killed due to bad landings or because they were intercepted by German troops. With a grim solemnity, the film doesn’t shy away from the fates of these doomed soldiers. We watch as they crash into houses, get caught on trees, and in one horrific instance, land square into an open well.

Thankfully, as history tells us, the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, led by Benjamin H. Vandervoot, landed accurately and were able to capture and defend the town of Sainte-Mère-Église. Vandervoot is played by John Wayne in a terrifying performance. Wayne gives a face to not just a soldier, but an entire regiment of troops whose success was crucial to the Allies’ victory.

Or consider the vignettes focusing on individual groups of soldiers storming the beaches. The troops aren’t portrayed as faceless drones, but as people faced with an impossible goal. The scenes following British troops on Sword and Gold Beaches. Many of these scenes are dominated by a close group of comrades (one of which is played by a young Sean Connery) that we grow close to. And, yes, even the German soldiers are given respectful portrayals. Zanuck made sure that the Germans were not shown in a stereotypical manner. He even had the German director Bernhard Wicki shoot the scenes with the German army officers. As such, the Germans come off as men who are tired of war and well-aware that the incoming invasion spells their doom. Considering that many of the German officers were played by their real-life counterparts, I suspect that this might not have been too far from the truth.

While during the filming of Saving Private Ryan, Spielberg shied away from using actual locations to shoot the beach scenes. However, Zanuck took great pains to shoot on the same beaches that the soldiers landed on. Of course, much maintenance was required before the locales were safe enough to film on. Permanent monuments dedicated to the invasion had to be hidden behind sandbags and disguised as bunkers.

Unexploded mines still littered the beaches. As a result, Zanuck hired 41 U.S. and German sappers to identify areas where the actors would be safe. As a humorous side note, while preparing a section of Normandy Beach near Ponte du Hoc, the crew accidentally discovered a tank that had been buried in the sand during the actual invasion. The tank was repaired by mechanics and used during the film as part of the British tank regiment.

So much work, time, and effort went into the creation of this truly gargantuan film. In an age where entire armies and planets can be created at the click of a mouse, it’s refreshing to see old school filmmaking that operated on a truly massive scale. Such films contain something that no computer can replicate: a sense of authenticity. And really, authenticity should be the key word when creating a film about such a momentous event. The D-Day Normandy landings are easily one of the most important moments of 20th century history. There were at least 16,000 casualties on both sides of this great battle. In a film that pays tribute to such a great loss of life, computer graphics just don’t cut it...you need the real thing. And The Longest Day provides just that: as close a historical reconstruction as the cinema has ever provided.

On Hiatus...AGAIN!

2011-12-05T10:14:00.001-08:00

Dag-nab it! Just as I was ready to get this blog back on the road, my graduate school work suddenly exploded! I'm going to be so busy over the next two weeks that I won't be able to write any entries! I'll be back by December 17. Until then, thanks for being loyal readers!

I pray that SOON I'll be able to truly get this blog back into shape!

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

Dogma

2011-11-25T18:13:00.000-08:00

Directed by Kevin Smith
1999
The United States of America

At some point during the history of American cinema, the predominant view of organized religion, in particular Christianity, seemed to shift. Up until around the 70s, organized religion was treated positively. Early Hollywood cinema is full of heroic priests and clergy. Prominent examples include Father Jerry Connolly (Angels with Dirty Faces), Father Charles O’Malley (Going My Way), and Father Barry (On the Waterfront). Faith was depicted as something to cherish and respect. Who can forget the scene from Captains Courageous when Manuel Fidello (played by Spencer Tracy) wistfully recounts his personal beliefs and convictions? But, as I said, at some point, the predominant view of religion within the cinema became ugly and negative. Organized religion was seen as a tool used to subjugate the masses, priests were seen as ignorant fools (and more recently, child molesters), and it became a badge of honor for many characters to abandon their faith. Think I’m joking? Try this: name five clergymen from mainstream American movies of the last decade who were not depicted as: a) a moron, b) a criminal, or c) comedic relief. Priests in the background who officiate weddings, funerals, and baptisms don’t count. I’m talking about priests who are actual characters with names. It’s quite a challenge, isn’t it?

Religion, for whatever reason, has come to be seen as antiquated, ignorant, and corrupt by the entertainment industry. It’s almost impossible for films to take the matter of faith seriously anymore. And yet, there has been one massive exception to this unusual trend. The film in question is Dogma, the fourth film by writer/direction Kevin Smith. Blending a surprisingly wide berth of knowledge concerning Catholic mythology, his trademark dialogue, and his innate insight into the world around him, Smith created a film that was simultaneously funny, charming, emotional, and moving. It is both a critique and celebration of not just religion, but Faith, with a capital ‘F.’ And yet, the most surprising thing about this film is how Smith was able to disguise all of this beneath a veneer of profanity, violence, and, dare I say, adventure.

Protagonists in Smith’s films are almost always stuck in personal quagmires that keep them from moving forward in life. Dante Hicks from Clerks is doomed to work in a convenience store until his 30s. T.S. Quint from Mallrats can’t mature emotionally beyond spending all day playing video games and reading comics. And Holden McNeil from Chasing Amy lets his immaturity concerning his partner’s sexual past ruin their relationship. In Smith’s films, his characters’ insecurities and internal struggles are their worst enemies. The protagonist from Dogma isn’t any different. The film follows Bethany Sloane (Linda Fiorentino), a 35 year old woman living in McHenry, Illinois. She once was a devout Catholic, but a series of setbacks, such as her having an infection in her uterus leaving her sterile and her husband abandoning her, has stripped her of her faith. So, emotionally disconnected from her faith and the rest of the world, Bethany has resigned herself to working in an abortion clinic.

Bethany at Mass, just going through the motions.

But this all changes when she is visited one night by the Seraphim Metatron (Alan Rickman), the angel who serves as the voice of God.

Alan Rickman as the Metatron appearing before Bethany for the first time.

He informs her that she has been entrusted by God with a holy task: to stop two fallen angels, Bartleby (Ben Affleck) and Loki (Matt Damon) from exploiting a loophole in Catholic dogma which would allow them to return Heaven. The two angels were thrown out of Heaven when Loki, the Angel of Death, got drunk and resigned his post upon Bartleby’s encouragement. They discover that a church in Red Bank, New Jersey is celebrating their centennial with a plenary indulgence, an outdated Catholic practice that automatically forgives anyone who walks through the church doors of their sins. All Bartleby and Loki have to do is travel to Red Bank, cut off their wings (thereby transforming them into humans), walk through the doors, and die. As a result, they will be allowed to reenter Heaven. There is only one problem: to do so would be to overrule the word of God. Metatron explains that the entire fabric of the universe depends on one cardinal law: that God is always right. To prove God wrong would literally end all of existence.

But Metatron tells her not to worry, as she will have company on her journey. He speaks of a pair of prophets who will guide her. Yet Bethany still refuses, believing that Metatron’s appearance was only a dream...at least until she is brutally attacked by the Stygian Triplets, three demonic hockey stick-wielding teens. She is saved from being brutally murdered by none other than Jay and Silent Bob, a pair of drug dealers who serve as the de facto mascots of Kevin Smith’s career.

Jay and Silent Bob as the unlikely prophets.

Jay (Jason Mewes) is a foul-mouthed stoner and Silent Bob (played by director Kevin Smith) is his speechless partner. As luck would have it, the two are none other than the prophets foretold by the Metatron. Along the way to New Jersey, the three are joined by Rufus, the thirteenth apostle (Chris Rock) who was left out of the Bible because he was black and Serendipity (Salma Hayek) a Muse with writer’s block working in a strip club who became human because she wanted to finally get credit for all of her work.

As with any film involving Kevin Smith, inevitable hijinks ensue. Bartleby and Loki take a break from their journey to murder a boardroom full of sinful company executives in an attempt to gain favor from God.

Bartleby and Loki right before they unleash the wrath of God upon an unsuspecting board of CEOs.

Bethany must fight off Jay’s constant attempts to clumsily seduce her. They are kidnapped by Azrael, a former Muse banished to Hell who may have set the entire plot in motion for the most sinister reason imaginable. And the two parties engage in a one-sided battle on the steps of the Red Bank church. It is all very formulaic and predictable. But what separates Dogma from other such films is what goes on in between such deadly encounters: the characters actually talk to each other.

And what conversations they have! Kevin Smith has always been praised, even by his detractors, for his incredible gift at writing dialogue. In this case, the dialogue is used to wax philosophical on subjects of faith. Take one particular exchange between Bethany and Rufus on the subject of whether or not Jesus still loves humanity:

Rufus: He still digs humanity, but it bothers Him to see the shit that gets carried out in His name - wars, bigotry, televangelism. But especially the factioning of all the religions. He said humanity took a good idea and, like always, built a belief structure on it.
Bethany: Having beliefs isn't good?
Rufus: I think it's better to have ideas. You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier...

Changing a belief is trickier...

Or take another more humorous discussion between the Metatron and Bethany:

Bethany: What's he like?
Metatron: God? Lonely. But funny. He's got a great sense of humor. Take sex for example. There's nothing funnier than the ridiculous faces you people make mid-coitus.
Bethany: Sex is a joke in heaven?
Metatron: The way I understand it, it's mostly a joke down here, too.

These are not things that a person could casually bang out on a typewriter over the span of a weekend. These discussions reflect serious, intense examinations and reflections on the subject of faith and God. And therein lies the true power of Dogma: despite its irreverent and graphic humor and content, it takes the idea of faith and religion more seriously than any other mainstream film made in the last few decades. It’s an extremely graphic movie and certainly not for the faint of heart. But those who dare to take it seriously, to look beyond the profane surface will find one of the most introspective and passionate films on faith ever made.

For those who still don’t believe me, I would like to draw your attention to one last scene in particular. Bethany has learned that the reason why she has been selected to stop Bartleby and Loki is because she is the last Scion, aka the last blood descendant of Jesus Christ. Horrified by this realization, she runs away from her friends and into a nearby lake where she shrieks how much she doesn’t want this and how much she hates God. And without missing a beat, the Metatron appears before her, standing on the water.

Bethany: I don't want this, it's too big.
Metatron: That's what Jesus said. Yes, I had to tell him. And you can imagine how that hurt the Father - not to be able to tell the Son Himself because one word from His lips would destroy the boy's frail human form? So I was forced to deliver the news to a scared child who wanted nothing more than to play with other children. I had to tell this little boy that He was God's only Son, and that it meant a life of persecution and eventual crucifixion at the hands of the very people He came to enlighten and redeem. He begged me to take it back, as if I could. He begged me to make it all not true. And I'll let you in on something, Bethany, this is something I've never told anyone before... If I had the power, I would have.

I think I've made my point.

Peace be with you, my friends. Amen.

I'm Back!

2011-11-20T15:39:00.001-08:00

Well folks...

You might have noticed that I've been...away for a while...

The reason is that I've been dealing with some health issues for the past few weeks that have completely prevented me from updating this site. Well...I am pleased to announce that this Friday there will be a new Forgotten Classic!

Thanks to all of my readers and fellow bloggers who stayed with me, despite my absence. You guys are the best!

Oh...and expect news of a new blogathon in the near future....

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

Guest Post: AM1200

2011-10-22T13:32:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to Dorian Tenore-Bartilucci for this excellent guest article!

The Creepiest Lovecraft Tale that Lovecraft DIDN'T Write!

Writer/producer/director David Prior's 2007 horror thriller short AM1200 follows in the great tradition of Psycho and From Dusk Till Dawn in both its high quality and its story structure: a taut protagonist-on-the-run thriller that devilishly morphs into an atmospheric, razor-sharp tale of supernatural terror under your very nose.

Eric Lange is solid as Sam Larson, an almost sympathetic white-collar everyman (if that makes sense :-)) whose company is going downhill fast. Going into Dick-Over or Be Dicked-Over mode, Sam makes a bad, no-turning-back decision to embezzle company funds before his slippery boss (Ray Wise, in the kind of role at which he excels) beats him to it. Sam escapes in his Audi on what seems like an endless desert highway, literally scared sick whenever he sees a police cruiser in his rear-view mirror. But his nerve-wracking flight from the law feels like piña coladas and Key West sunsets compared to what happens when, in the dead of night, he hears and responds to a desperate SOS broadcast as he tunes his car radio into the titular evangelical AM radio station.... Refreshingly, unlike so many other protagonists of his ilk, Sam sees the red flags (metaphorically flapping in the breeze), and does his best to avoid the station until he's truly left with no other options.

AM1200 is an original story by Prior, but once Sam enters the all-but-abandoned station and discovers the terrifying truth, the film becomes a brilliant modern-day homage to H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu tales. It packs more potent suspense, dread, and eerie atmosphere in its 40-minute running time than many feature-length horror films. It also looks and sounds amazing, thanks to Brian Hoodenpyle's crystal-clear digital cinematography, and the brilliant use of sound and light (and dark) by Prior and his crew. The sparingly-used special effects are so artfully rendered that they seem quite natural, as opposed to the kind of F/X which practically scream, "Hey, look at me! I'm a special effect!" Great use of music, too, ranging from Bela Bartok to Gerry Rafferty's "Baker Street." Among the rare, fleeting instances of comic relief, my favorite was when the seemingly millions of unseen crickets that have been insistently chirping -- nay, screeching -- away in the background suddenly STOP -- just like that! AM1200 was like having a knife to my throat for forty minutes -- in a good way. It's well worth seeking out and recommending to others. I give it an A+!

Miles to go before Sam sleeps.

Think, Sam, think! What would Janet Leigh do?

Me, embezzling? Nope, just out for a midnight stroll….

Funny how everything looks like a UFO at night.

Harry Jones (Ray Wise) takes a shot at eluding the law.

Why doesn’t that put Sam at ease?

Blinded by the light!

“They say it’s better to reign in hell than to serve in Heaven. What about serving in Hell? What if the only option is to serve in Hell?”

“Hi, I’m Larry. I’m the new guy.”

Temporary Hiatus

2011-10-16T12:27:00.000-07:00

I've got some bad news, folks. Because of graduate school and my other commitments, I have to put Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear on temporary hiatus. The simple reason is that I have two major papers due in two weeks AND I am working an internship at the DOC NYC Film Festival.

I've been working with DOC NYC for the last month. The festival will be held from November 2-10. Therefore, it's crunch time for the festival organizers. Between DOC NYC and my school work, I simply can't write entries that would be at the quality that I am comfortable with.

However! I have asked some of my blogger friends to do guest entries between now and the end of DOC NYC. The amazing Team Bartilucci from http://doriantb.blogspot.com/ has graciously agreed to do a guest review. If anyone else would like to do a guest review, please leave a comment!

Until November, my friends...

'Til November...

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

Up Tight!

2011-10-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Directed by Jules Dassin
1968
The United States of America

Few directors were as versatile and adaptable as the legendary Jules Dassin. A Jewish American by birth, a Greek in spirit, he spent most of his time in France doing crime and heist films that would influence countless directors and film-makers. Over his career, he would inundate himself with different world cultures. He began his life making taut film noir such as Brute Force, The Naked City, and Thieves’ Highway. Blacklisted in the late Forties from working in Hollywood, he moved to Europe where he continued his incredible career. His most famous film, Rififi, is considered to be one of the most important and influential heist films of all time. But success and critical fame did little to secure Dassin’s career. He would become a kind of wandering journeyman, taking work wherever he could find it. He made the Italian film The Law with stars Gina Lollobrigida and Yves Montand. He directed several Greek films such as Never on Sunday, The Rehearsal, and A Dream of Passion. He even helmed a documentary on the Israeli Six-Day War entitled Hamilchama al Hashalom. But after his banishment from Hollywood, Dassin did manage to return to his homeland and direct one last film on his native soil. That film would be the sensational and devastating Up Tight!

Up Tight! is a remake of The Informer, a film that won four Academy Awards including John Ford’s first for Best Director. But John Ford’s film was set against the Irish War of Independence in 1922 in Dublin, Ireland. Dassin chose to transplant his version of the film into Cleveland, Ohio. The time? The Civil Rights Movement. Martin Luther King Jr. has just been assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee. A thousand televisions in a thousand bars, shacks, and houses in the Cleveland ghetto watch his funeral. Most see this as a moment of great tragedy befitting a time for mourning and reflection. But some see this as an inevitable call to action. In a lonely warehouse, a group of black radicals led by Johnny Wells steal crates of guns and ammunition. A white guard is killed in the robbery, but it doesn’t matter. It was for the cause. So what if Johnny has to go into hiding from the law? The revolution has teeth now.

There’s only one problem: Tank Williams. Tank was one of Johnny’s best friends. He planned the whole gun robbery. However, the news of King’s assassination sent him into a drunken stupor. Feeling betrayed by Tank, Johnny and his associates ban him from their revolutionary movement. Horrified at being abandoned by the only friends he had, he stumbles to his girlfriend’s house only to find her courting her welfare officer. Enraged, he fights him off, spurring the officer to swear that he’ll cut off his girlfriend’s welfare. His girlfriend shrieks at him that he’s ruined not only her life, but the lives of their illegitimate children. And so Tank finds himself alone, drunk, and hated.

But he sees a way out. The police have started a massive man-hunt for Johnny. There is an offer for a massive cash reward for information leading to Johnny’s arrest.

Embittered by Johnny’s actions and desperate to win back his girlfriend, he betrays his location. The cops storm his hiding place and engage in a deadly shootout. By the end of the gunfight, Johnny lies dead. And what does Tank do with the reward money? He goes to a bar and gets drunker than he had even been before in his life. People start getting suspicious that Tank suddenly has so much money right after Johnny’s death. It doesn’t take long for the Black Power group that Johnny was a part of to put two and two together. And so the revolutionaries descend upon Tank with a fury. Tank must make the ultimate decision: escape town, or submit to his fate. What is a brotha to do?

The brilliance of Jules Dassin’s direction is that nobody is portrayed as a hero. Everyone is a responsible for villainous or reprehensible behavior. The Black Power movement kills a guard in a robbery, sees the death of one of the world’s greatest activists for peace as a call for armed resistance, and views white people with hatred. In one particularly callous scene, a white friend of one of the movement’s leaders begs to join them because he truly believes in equal rights. He recounts how they went to sit-ins together, survived Vietnam together, and marched together. But he is thrown out because of his skin. They become guilty of the exact same racism that they fight against. Tank is depicted as a drunken coward. Yes, he is abandoned by his friends and loved ones. But his bad fortune is brought about by his own actions. In a sense, Tank is the descendant of the classic noir hero: unable to escape his past and his own faults.

But the real reason behind Up Tight!’s greatness is its cynicism. It offers no answers concerning how racial intolerance and strife in America can be solved. It only watches as the people sworn to end such conflict destroy themselves. Dassin seems to be using the film as an allegory for how black society is in many ways its own worst enemy. Examining his catalog of films, especially his film noir, this doesn’t seem too unusual for Dassin. Brute Force is about an underground society of prisoners who band together to escape from their prison. The plot is foiled when one of the prisoners breaks the oath of silence and squeals. In Rififi, a gang of robbers are captured by the police after one of their number breaks the rules of a heist by stealing a diamond ring for his mistress. And finally, here in Up Tight! all of the horror and bloodshed could have been spared if Tank hadn’t gotten drunk at the start of the film and failed to participate in the doomed robbery. In all of these films, Dassin seems to be making the point that a group’s destruction can be more easily assured by internal causes than external. It’s not the cops or authorities that you have to worry about...it’s the guy sitting next to you.

So who killed Johnny? Was it Tank for being irresponsible? Was it the Black Power Movement for abandoning Tank? Or was it Johnny’s own fault for killing the white guard during the robbery. Dassin seems to be trying to make a single point in Up Tight!: it sure as hell wasn’t whitey.

No Review This Week

2011-10-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

Sorry folks. I can't manage a new Forgotten Classic this week. I've got too much graduate school brik-a-brak to deal with.

But I'll be back next week!

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

The Exorcist III

2011-09-23T10:25:00.000-07:00

Directed by William Peter Blatty
1990
The United States of America

Dammit! It isn’t supposed to work this way! Everyone knows the rules to making Hollywood sequels, particularly for horror films! The first one is supposed to be an instant classic that breaks the rules and challenges preconceived notions about horror (i.e. Jaws, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street). Then a half-baked sequel comes out that receives lukewarm to negative reviews from critics and audiences (i.e. Damien: Omen II, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, The Hills Have Eyes 2). And then, in a last ditch effort to squeeze as much money from the public as possible, an abysmal third film comes out that mocks the franchise, offends the fans, and becomes a massive flop (i.e. Child’s Play 3, Amityville 3, Friday the 13th 3). The Exorcist franchise was following the rules perfectly at the start. The Exorcist (1971) was one of the few horror films in history to be critically acclaimed, ludicrously profitable, and nominated for several Academy Awards. It was followed six years later by Exorcist II: The Heretic, a film that did a decent amount at the box office, yet was universally regarded as one of the worst horror sequels of all time. And then, thirteen years later, it was followed by yet another sequel, The Exorcist III. So, by all rational accounts, The Exorcist III should have been a horrendously horrible film, right? Wrong! Not only is The Exorcist III a fantastic horror film and sequel in its own right, at times it is even better than the original!

I know that last sentence is quite an inflammatory one. But I kid you not. The Exorcist III is hands down one of the best horror films that I have ever seen. Directed by William Peter Blatty, the writer of the novel that The Exorcist was based on and its Academy Award winning screenplay adaption, The Exorcist III both honors and respects the legacy laid down by the first film while looking ahead towards new horizons. Blatty wisely decided to ignore the events of Exorcist II: The Heretic when making this film. So, in a sense, The Exorcist III can be viewed as an official sequel to the original.

The Exorcist III is set fifteen years after the original film. It follows Lieutenant William F. Kinderman (George C. Scott), a grizzled old policeman who should have retired years ago. Recently, there have been a series of gruesome murders in Georgetown. A 12-year-old boy was found with his head cut off by the river after being tortured. A local priest was discovered decapitated in a confessional. Kinderman’s best friend, another priest named Father Dyer, was found dead in a hospital bed, having been paralyzed and drained of all of his blood with a catheter while still alive. What’s worse is that on the wall next to his body, the words “It’s a Wonderfull Life” were written in his blood.

It’s a Wonderful Life was their favorite film. A few days before his murder, Kinderman had gone with Dyer to see it in the theaters. But what’s worse is that all of the murders have something in common: they all fit the description of a notorious serial killer known as “The Gemini Killer.” And The Gemini Killer was captured and put to death in the electric chair fifteen years ago.

The original film worked because it operated on two different levels. The Exorcist was not just a horror film, but an investigative mystery as well. In a sense, it was a kind of priest procedural. Father Damien Karras spent a good portion of the film trying to figure out whether it was an authentic possession. He talked with a psychiatrist, had recordings of the possessed girl’s rantings examined by a linguist, and even faked out the demon by spraying it with regular water while claiming it was Holy Water. The film provided ample room for doubt as to whether or not the possession was real. In an introduction given by director William Friedkin on an anniversary re-release of The Exorcist, he mentioned how people seem to take away whatever they bring to the film. If they believe that there is a God and that good will prevail, they see The Exorcist as a tale of triumph. If they don’t believe in a God and have a pessimistic world view, then they see The Exorcist as a confirmation of their convictions. This is especially curious considering how The Exorcist confirms the existence of the supernatural in the final scenes. The fact that people can watch the little girl’s head spin around 360 degrees and levitate in the air and still believe that it was a hoax speaks to the film’s ability to create doubt.

The Exorcist III operates similarly. For the first hour or so, everything is up in the air. It could be a deranged copycat serial killer or a case of the spirit of The Gemini Killer possessing people so he could carry out his murderous deeds. By following Kinderman, an actual cop, the film focuses even more on the investigative aspect of the storyline. There is more suspicion of foul play, more distrust of the supernatural. Of course, in the last act the supernatural is revealed to be the ultimate culprit. That isn’t a spoiler, by the way. There are supernatural forces at work in this film...but not in the way you’d expect.

Also, The Exorcist III remembers one of the most forgotten rules of the horror industry: we won’t be scared about characters in danger if we don’t care about them in the first place. One of the reasons why horror films are so bad these days is that too often they make their characters completely unlikeable. Yes, yes...we know that most of them will die hideous, gruesome deaths...but after establishing them as horrible people, we start to cheer for the killer. In a true horror film, the hero shouldn’t be the killer, but the people who stand up to them. Films like Poltergeist, Jaws, The Shining, Halloween, and The Exorcist remember this. They spend a large chunk of the film making us genuinely care about the people on the screen. Therefore, when a masked killer comes for them, we don’t want them to die...hence the horror. The Exorcist excelled at this. We came to identify with and emotionally connect with the possessed girl, her mother, and the priests involved in her exorcism. In The Exorcist III, the film takes its time, letting us get to know the characters. We find faults in Kinderman, but we sympathize with them. We watch him go to the movies and dinner with Father Dyer. We see them shoot the breeze and reminisce about old times.

When Kinderman learns of Father Dyer’s death, it is one of the film’s most powerful scenes.

The Exorcist III succeeds because we have an emotional investment in the characters.

But what would a great horror film be like without authentic scares? Thankfully, The Exorcist III has plenty. Another one of the great problems with modern horror is that they are too reliant on jump scares; people jumping out of shadows and loud noises that explode out of nowhere. Both The Exorcist and The Exorcist III create horror through atmosphere. Blatty used noted cinematographer Gerry Fisher to create claustrophobic shots and lighting. The film’s two greatest scenes both involve Kinderman interrogating a man in an insane ward who claims to be possessed by The Gemini Killer. I personally consider them to be two magnum opuses of the horror genre. Watch Fisher’s use of camera angles and shadows.

But more importantly, listen. Listen carefully to how...you know what...never-mind. I’m not going to tell you what to listen for. You’ll notice it. I guarantee you.

The Exorcist III is a true triumph of the horror genre. It deserves to be as respected as the original. It makes me weep that to know that he has only directed two films. The Exorcist III proves that he has a genuine talent and distinct cinematic voice. It frustrates me that I can’t tell you more about this film...but that’s just the way things have to be considering that it’s a horror film. If I say too much, it’ll ruin the suspense. All I can do is beg you all to go out and see this film. You won’t be disappointed...or left unscathed...

Cimarron

2011-09-16T11:45:00.000-07:00

Directed by Anthony Mann
1960
The United States of America

It started, quite literally, with a bang. An estimated 50,000 people listened for that fateful gunshot which signaled the start of the 1889 Oklahoma Land Rush. The rules were simple: at 12:00 noon, two million acres of Oklahoma land became free for the taking. All you had to do was be the first to stake a claim, and 160 acres of prime Oklahoma land was yours for the taking. Of course, you had to be the first to get there. So on that fateful morning, thousands of homesteaders lined up on the Oklahoma border, eager for a new life. Never mind that the land used to belong to the Cherokee and Sioux, there were white families to think about. Among these settlers were Yancey and Sabra Cravat. Little did they know, but their lives would represent the great American struggle of Manifest Destiny in all of its glory and shame. Ahead of them lay adventure and heartbreak, success and strife, glory and tragedy. Theirs’ would be the story of the Old West. Theirs’ would be the story of Cimarron.

There are two ways to interpret Cimarron. The first is to simply take it at face value. In doing so, you are presented with a Western of staggering scope and complexity. Director Anthony Mann, who had previously revolutionized the Western genre with his work with James Stewart, went about making Cimarron one of the biggest films of his career. In fact, Cimarron was the first of Mann’s three great cinematic epics (the other two being El Cid and The Fall of the Roman Empire). Everything about this film was massive. It featured such big name stars as Glenn Ford, Maria Schell, and Anne Baxter. It sported a tremendous musical score written by two time Academy Award winning composer Franz Waxman. Robert Surtees, the three time Academy Award winning cinematographer (most famous for his work on Ben Hur), manned the cameras. Coming in at a whopping 147 minutes, it looked big, sounded big, and felt like one of the biggest Westerns ever made.

But there is a second way to view Cimarron: as a devastating allegory of American Westward expansion. The film followed the Cravat family as they strove to make their fortune in the untamed wilds of the American West. Yancey is the all-American pioneer: handsome, friendly, popular with everyone he meets. Always looking for the next opportunity. His wife, Sabra, is an immigrant. She is everything that Yancey is not: quiet, emotional, desperate to settle down. But they still desperately love each other. The relationship between Yancey and Sabra represents the duality of the American spirit, one that is restless yet cautious, full of bravado yet thirsty for a sense of security.

But the allegory goes deeper. Sabra is an unabashed racist. She is extremely vocal of her distrust of blacks and Indians. Yancey, on the other hand, crusades for the rights of Indians and other minorities. When an Indian couple tries to take part in the Oklahoma Land Rush and are subsequently lynched, Yancey kills the perpetrators. So, in a sense, Yancey represents the idealistic side of American culture: the idea of the ethnic melting pot, that all men, no matter who they are or where they come from, are equal. Meanwhile Sabra represents the honest truth.

I could wax philosophical about all of the ways that Yancey and Sabra could be interpreted. But really, the story is the most symbolic part of the film. After greedily sucking up all of the Indians’ land via the Land Rush, the settlers force even more land from the Indians. Yancey is desperate to take part in the colonization of the stolen Cherokee land...so much that he literally abandons his wife to pioneer it. Yancey frequently takes long leaves of absence to satisfy his wanderlust: he goes to Alaska and kills a grizzly bear, he takes part in the Spanish-American war, he even travels a good part of the world. He is gone for so long that Sabra has to raise their infant child almost to maturity alone. If Yancey is the spirit of American idealism, then Cimarron bravely explores its sinister side: America’s willingness to abuse and abandon whatever gets in its way, be it the environment, the sovereignty of natives and foreign countries, and even its own citizens. Yancey is both hero and villain. But he does come back in the end. Sabra, much to our surprise, welcomes him home. They may be opposite sides of the American identity, but they can never be separated for very long.

Released in 1960, Cimarron was actually a remake of the 1931 film of the same name which had won three Academy Awards, including Best Picture. The original had been a massive success and was infamous for two things. The first was its depiction of the infamous Oklahoma Land Rush which utilized more than 5,000 extras, 28 cameramen, and an untold army of camera assistants and photographers. Its second claim to fame is additionally the reason why almost nobody has heard of it or seen it since its release in the 1930s: its racist depiction of ethnic minorities. Blacks, Jews, and Native Americans are all represented in this film, but in a poor fashion. The blacks all talk like Stepin Fetchit and the less said about the depiction of Native Americans, the better. Of course, people who have actually seen the original know that the film’s racist depictions of minorities are juxtaposed by Yancey Cravat’s progressive views. But people don’t remember Yancey’s struggle to highlight the unfair results of treaties with the Cherokee Indians. They just remember the smiling black shoeshine who dies in the arms of his massa in one of his first scenes.

But under the watchful eye of director Anthony Mann, the story, and characters, of Cimarron take a drastic change for the better. Yancey and Sabra help run a progressive newspaper that fights for the rights of minorities and exposes the evils of local land barons and criminals. The minorities, in particular the Indians, are portrayed with much more dignity. Yes...this can be seen as an attempt to make the story more politically correct. But in a way, it emboldens the characters and makes them more heroic. Ever since the days of John Ford, the American Western has been one steeped in mythology and allegory...at least until the 70s and 80s with the birth of the Revisionist Western. In a since, by making the film more politically correct, they are honoring the spirit of the American Western.

For whatever reason, Anthony Mann’s Cimarron has fallen into painful obscurity. It is revived every now and then by appearing on television...but it has never been remembered as the great piece of filmmaking that it truly is. Even back during the time of its release, it was largely over-looked. This is a tremendous shame. Cimarron is a part of the grand tradition of American Westerns. Until the time when it finally gets its day in the sun, we shall just have to wait...just like Sabra did for ol’ Yancey...

Update: No Review This Week + Storytime

2011-09-04T20:55:00.000-07:00

Alas, my dear readers, I cannot do a review this week. I'm still busy getting settled into my new life at New York University Tisch.

But I don't want to leave you all empty handed two weeks in a row. So...I have a story to share.

This is a TRUE STORY.

I live in a suite right on the corner of Washington Square in New York City. As such, I have a roommate. This roommate is a young computer programmer from Southern China. I won't mention his name because he hasn't given me permission to do so online. Anyhow, for the last few days, I've been trying to establish some common ground with my new roommate. However, due to the language barrier, this has been difficult.

But tonight I made a breakthrough.

It turns out that he loves movies, too. He discovered this blog when he was researching me after we were assigned the same room. He remarked that he was astonished that I had written about Jiang Wen's film Devils on the Doorstep. He was amazed because that film is banned in China.

He asked me how I saw the film. I answered that I had seen it on Netflix. He had never heard of the site and wanted to know what it was. I showed him the site, explained how it was basically a giant movie library. He was astonished. Many of the films on Netflix are still banned in China.

For those of you who don't know, China has INSANE restrictions on foreign films shown inside their borders. Incredibly, only TWENTY foreign films are allowed to be shown in China each year. Think about that for a second. The average American probably sees twenty or so films a year at the movie theater. Even then, that's only a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the number of movies that come out in the US alone. Not only are foreign films nearly impossible to get a hold of in China, many films are outright banned by the government. These banned films include, I kid you not:

-A.I. - Artificial Intelligence
-Avatar
-Back to the Future
-Ben-Hur
-Brokeback Mountain
-The Dark Knight
-The Departed
-Memoirs of a Geisha
-Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
-And many, many other Chinese films that have fallen out of favor with the government

And yet, right before my roommate's eyes, I was showing him a site where he could watch all of these films. Even more incredible to my roommate was that this was legal. He asked me if you got in trouble for watching these films. I told him the truth. "No, it's perfectly legal." My roommate was amazed. He told me that in China if you wanted to watch something non-approved by the government, you had to download it. And in China, with their massive agencies designed to keep a close eye on their citizens' internet activities, doing so could get oneself into serious trouble with the law. So naturally he was suspicious and wary of a site with so many banned films.

Then he asked me a strange question: "Don't they ban films in America?" I paused for a second. I wondered what I should say. Then I decided, once again, on telling the truth. "Not really. The federal government can't officially ban a film in this country. Some local governments can, but I can't think of any instances when a movie has been banned by federal law."

Upon hearing my answer, my roommate lowered his head, dropped his eyes to the ground, and said in a half whisper, "That's because America is a free country."

As I write this, my roommate is busy setting up his own Netflix account. I have provided him with a list of great films that I thought that he might enjoy and may never get to see in China. This was one of the first times in my life that I understood just how powerful and meaningful my country's freedoms are. Folks, I'm proud to be an American. I'm proud to live in a country where men and women have given their lives in order to protect my Freedom of Speech. It might sound cheesy, but I really do. And, of course, I recognize the brave men and women who have also given their lives to protect basic human rights in other countries. In the Western world, it's so easy to take our freedoms for granted.

So be thankful, folks. Be thankful that we live in a part of the world where information is free for the taking. For there are many, many people, just like my roommate, who live in places where it is not.

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

Update: No Review This Week

2011-08-28T19:53:00.000-07:00

Well, folks...

Tomorrow I'm moving to New York City to attend film school at New York University! Due to the flooding from Hurricane Irene, the next few days are going to be complete insanity. Because of this, I won't be able to write a new review this week.

Hopefully, I'll be able to return next week with a brand new Forgotten Classic!

Stay safe and dry, everyone!

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

Martin

2011-08-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

Directed by George A. Romero
1978
The United States of America

There’s something strange about that new boy in town. Nobody can quite put their finger on it...but something about that young man just seems...off. Armed with a bag full of narcotics, razors, and needles, he can be seen milling around town and loitering. Every now and then he stops to stare at people, young women, in particular. But he always shoves off whenever someone approaches him. It can’t help that he’s living with Tada Cuda, a local Lithuanian Catholic who seems to forget that he isn’t living in the 14th century. The old man seems convinced that Demons exist and are plaguing his home of Braddock, Pennsylvania. He can always be heard by neighbors yelling at the young man, even at strange hours of the night. But that’s just Tada Cuda. No...it’s that new young man who seems out of place. His name, we learn, is Martin Mathias. And he is a vampire.

At least...he thinks he is a vampire. He can walk under sunlight, eat normal food, and even go to Mass. But every few nights, he hits the town with his bag of goodies to feed. Mercifully, he sedates his victims with his tools before fatally slashing them and drinking their blood. The opening scene depicts Martin’s surgical precision in locating a target, preparing his needles, sneaking into her room, and moving in for the kill. But as I said, there’s something...off...about this young man. Before feeding, he strips naked and removes her clothes as well. He slices her arm open, suckles at the cut, and then kisses her lips. He even cuddles up to her naked form, almost crying at their macabre and bloody consummation. Then, he cleans up the blood, wipes away all of the evidence of his intrusion, and positions her body so that it looks like a suicide, not a murder. If Martin is a vampire, then he hates himself for being one.

This inner turmoil is the heart of George A. Romero’s Martin. After reinventing the horror genre with the classic Night of the Living Dead (1968), he directed this introspective character study. The film is undeniably a lost gem from the career of the man most remembered for turning the stomachs of millions with his graphic zombie movies. In fact, knowing that Romero directed this film can be downright disorienting. It doesn’t feel like many of his other works. While most of his films are intense assaults on the senses of the audience, Martin takes its patient time, fully exploring and developing its characters. It creates doubt and inspires skepticism. Is Martin really a vampire? Is he nothing more than a disturbed serial killer? If he isn’t a vampire, why does he think of himself as one?

While the film doesn’t give any definitive answers, it does leave important clues. While feeding, he is barraged with black and white visions of vampiric seductions of virginal beauties. In another, Martin, dressed in clothes from the 19th century, is chased and assaulted by a group of puritans and townsfolk. Are these memories of past encounters that haunt him during his bloody work? Or could they possibly be fantasies spurred on by his animal-like thirst? Could it be both? Whatever they are, they haunt Martin in his darkest moments.

But most curious of all is Martin’s steadfast denial of magic and the supernatural. This becomes evident during his interactions with Tada Cuda who is convinced that he is an Old World vampire. He never refers to Martin by name, instead calling him “Nosferatu.” He sets up garlic bulbs and crucifixes around the house to repel him. Martin angrily rips the garlic off the wall in one scene, runs into Tada Cuda’s room, takes a bite, and screams that there is no such thing as magic. His cousin Christina seems fascinated by Martin and tries to uncover his secrets. He bitterly rebukes her time and again with, “There’s no real magic...ever.” What causes his repulsion of the supernatural? Perhaps his parents were like Tada Cuda and raised him in an environment of hatred and suspicion. That would explain why he hates the supernatural. In addition, it also explains why he would hate his identity as a vampire.

But let’s pretend for a moment that Martin isn’t a vampire. Why does he identify himself as one? Perhaps he is desperate for the intimacy and physical contact that his annual feedings bring. Martin reveals to a local housewife who seduces him that he is a virgin. So maybe his feedings answer some forbidden or misguided lust. The Japanese film Ichi the Killer (2001) features a character who was raised to believe that sexual arousal was really a form of homicidal lust that could only be quenched by killing people. Could something similar have happened to Martin? Might he be confusing his own sexual frustration with a supposed need to kill and drink blood? In one scene, he breaks into a house at night intending to feed on a young housewife. He discovers her having an affair with a young man. Enraged, he knocks the woman out with narcotics and proceeds to brutally murder the young man and drink his blood. Why did he kill the young man? He could have just knocked him out, too. Was he jealous of what the man had in his relationship with the housewife? Was it an act borne of confused sexual jealousy?

Or perhaps it is a cry for attention. Martin develops a habit of calling up a local radio station and recounting his exploits as a vampire. He becomes a big hit, even being affectionately dubbed “The Count” by the DJ. Even though the attention is superficial (and exploitative) he seems to thrive off it. Indeed, the radio seems to be the only time that he can confess his inner feelings and describe the forces that torture him. The radio becomes a companion and confessor, as he recalls his feedings and crimes to thousands over the air waves. The radio fills a void in Martin’s life that should have been filled by friends and family, yet has been cruelly denied him.

Martin is a powerful, albeit curious film that proves that George A. Romero could direct films with genuine substance. You might have noticed that I have asked quite a few questions during this review. That is because the film itself gives rise to so many, yet answers so few. Is Martin a vampire? Does it matter? He is clearly a disturbed young man. Did his environment give rise to his need to drink blood, or vice versa? Regardless, Martin is a penetrating look into the tortured mind of a tortured young man.

Caravaggio

2011-08-15T14:16:00.000-07:00

Directed by Derek Jarman
1986
Great Britain

In a white room somewhere in Porto Ercole, Tuscany, a man lays dying. At a nearby table, his deaf-dumb friend sits, cutting a small piece of wood into tiny pieces with a sharp knife. The sick man’s breathing comes in difficult draws, much like the echo of the nearby sea. His mind races as he recalls a short lifetime’s worth of memories, tragedies, and accomplishments.

His name is Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, and he was a painter. Not just any painter, but one of the most celebrated, and despised, in all of Rome. During his career, he had shook the art world to its core and shocked the heart of the Church. Genius, rebel, lover, fighter...he was all of these things. But now, in the little white room, he is just a man slowly dying to the rhythm of the waves. Soon, it will be all over. His passing will be noted but not mourned. His art, once celebrated, will drift into obscurity. But he will not be forgotten. Instead of being remembered by critics and historians, he lives on in the 80 of his paintings to survive to the modern day. Indeed, although mocked and ridiculed in his own time, he influenced countless other artists and imitators. One of these was English director Derek Jarman. In 1986, he released a film memorializing his work and life. Simply entitled Caravaggio, is not so much a film, but a complete artistic realization of a man that time forgot.

The film is told via a sequence of disjointed flashbacks as Caravaggio literally sleeps on his deathbed. We see him as a teenager who hustles old men and paints fiery portraits. “I painted myself as Bacchus and took on his fate,” the old man recollects. These works attract the eye of Cardinal Del Monte who takes him in and gives him an education.

The Cardinal molds his young mind, teaching him reading, philosophy, and religion. He commissions several paintings and finds himself more and more amazed by what he finds. Regarding a portrait of a sick young man that Caravaggio painted and modeled for, he asks, “Why is the skin painted green?” Caravaggio answers, “Because I was sick when I painted it.”

Caravaggio stuns critics and fellow artisans with his (for the time) unorthodox methods. Painters of the time would hire models, draw sketches, and then paint based on the sketches. Caravaggio painted the actual models directly onto the canvas at great speed, refusing to idealize them. He would hire street people to pose for his religious paintings.

This would include the use of prostitutes as models for the Virgin and female saints. Even more unusual than his methods were his finished products. One of the pioneers of chiaroscuro, he drowned his subjects in stark rays of light amidst oceans of black and shadows. There was almost no contrast to his works: there was light, there was darkness. His paintings were also full of anachronisms: subjects and models for historical pieces would frequently be depicted wearing modern (17th century) clothes.

When he wasn’t painting, Caravaggio would raise hell by drinking, fighting, and brawling his way through Italy. Along the way he discovers Ranuccio, a street fighter, who captures his imagination and heart. He begins a torrid affair with Ranuccio and his girlfriend Lena. Both Ranuccio and Lena are jealous of each other and compete for Caravaggio’s attention...at least until Lena announces that she is pregnant. Ranuccio pleads with her and asks who the child belongs to. “Why, to me,” she coyly replies. In addition, she adds that she is leaving them both to become the mistress to the wealthy Scipione Borghese. She adds, almost giggling in her defeat over Ranuccio, “The child...the child will be wealthy beyond avarice.”

Lena is later found dead, having been drowned in a canal. Ranuccio is arrested for murder. Caravaggio repents of his former lifestyle and begs the Pope to free Ranuccio. Having succeeded in freeing him, Ranuccio and Caravaggio embrace. “We sure fooled them,” Ranuccio laughs. Caravaggio freezes. “I did it so we could be together,” says Ranuccio. A disbelieving Caravaggio slits Ranuccio’s throat and flees from the authorities. For several years, he stays on the run. He manages to avoid being found until he takes up a bed in that little white room in Porto Ercole. He refuses to accept Last Rites from the Church.

Yet he dies with the memory of seeing the Passion as a child lingering on his mind. Here ends the life of Caravaggio, a contradiction until the very end.

Derek Jarman’s Caravaggio is a stunning film to behold. Jarman’s care for scene composition is astonishing. Every second of the film has been framed as if it were a still life or fresco done by the master painter himself. Jarman used candles and other unusual means to replicate the same chiaroscuro shadows and lighting that dominated Caravaggio’s paintings.

In addition to merely replicating Caravaggio’s paintings via composition and form, Jarman replicated the very techniques that he used to create his masterpieces. He would deliberately cast odd choices for various roles, most notably that of Jack Birkett, a flamboyant homosexual, as the Catholic Pope.

For Lena, he cast Tilda Swinton in her first on-screen role. Swinton does NOT make a convincing street urchin as she somehow radiates straight through the dust and mud that covers her body.

Just as Caravaggio placed historical anachronisms in his paintings, so too does Jarman. In an early scene when Caravaggio lives on the street, he robs an older man dressed in a contemporary white suit.

At a local bar, the actors smoke cigarettes and bask in visible electric lights.

During a premiere of his work, light jazz is heard playing. Afterwards, an art critic lounges in a tub while banging away at a review on a typewriter.

And, most notably, a high church official plays with a small electric calculator while being attended on by three servants wearing black and white suits.

But these are all trivial details. The true triumph of Caravaggio can hardly be summed up in words or explanations. The film is simply majestic to watch. It has a beauty that has only been matched by a very few films, Days of Heaven and The River being two prominent examples. It is a consummate, tortured, and nearly uncontainable work of art. But most incredibly, Jarman’s film is not the story of Caravaggio’s life. Instead, it is the story of Caravaggio’s art, his techniques, and his tragedy. Indeed, Caravaggio could quite possibly be the very film that Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio would have made if he had been commissioned to make a film about his life.

Blogathon Final Thoughts

2011-08-13T10:47:00.000-07:00

Well folks...

It's been an amazing two weeks.

I've had the pleasure of meeting many new, incredible bloggers and discovering a whole mess of films that I've now had to add to my "to-see" list.

This blogathon went better than I could have hoped. My favorite part wasn't the movies or even the entries, though. It was the people. I have watched from afar, high atop twitter accounts, facebook updates, and comments sections to see new friendships being born out of thin air. It warms my heart to see relationships break out over blog updates and movie reviews. People, we've done more than just create an impressive amount of new content for our blogs...we've created a community. It's a community made up of people from all over the world, from different lifestyles and backgrounds, who have all come together over a common love: film.

THAT is the true success of this blogathon.

I've been overwhelmed by the love, passion, and commitment that you have all demonstrated over the past two weeks. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

Many of you have asked if there will be another blogathon on this site. The answer is "yes." Here's the problem. I'm starting graduate school in two weeks. I don't know what my workload will be like when I start. Therefore, I don't want to commit to hosting another blogathon before I know whether or not I'll have the time to curate it. But if I find that I'll be too busy, then the next blogathon won't be until May, when my classes let out.

BUT...

If I find that I CAN manage my workload and have enough extra time left over, I'd like to hold my next blogathon in December or early January. Of course, I will post the information for the next blogathon on my site a few months in advance so that we have enough time to write our articles. And, yes, I DO have a topic picked out for the next blogathon. NO, I will not be telling you all, yet. I have a certain...how shall I put this...connection...that may be able to bring the next blogathon a great deal of attention. By that I mean that my next blogathon could very literally gain a wee bit of media attention...at least among the world-wide blogging community. It's on a topic that literally ANYONE who loves film can write on. It isn't limited to any genre, country, or time period. And, no...it isn't another "favorite film" blogathon. I'll let you know as soon as I have more details.

Anyway, I just want to say thank you again for all of the bloggers and readers out there who have made this blogathon special. I hope to see all of you again come this December.

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood

GRAND PRIZE WINNER

2011-08-10T20:49:00.000-07:00

And the Grand Prize Winner...as voted by our bloggers is:

Rachel

http://thegirlwiththewhiteparasol.blogspot.com/

Congratulations!

Stay tuned, folks...there's still one last update left.

Editor-in-Chief

Nathanael Hood

2nd Place Winner

2011-08-09T14:44:00.000-07:00

Well everyone, time to announce our second place winner!

Stacia

http://www.shebloggedbynight.com/

Congratulations!

Stay tuned for our Grand Prize Winner!

Editor-in-Chief

Nathanael Hood

3rd Place Winner

2011-08-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

Well folks, it's time to reveal our Third Place Winner!

Ivan G. Shreve, Jr.

http://thrillingdaysofyesteryear.blogspot.com/

Congratulations, Ivan! Take a bow!

Stay tuned for our Second and Grand Prize Winners!

Editor-in-Chief

Nathanael Hood

Blogathon Awards: Finalists

2011-08-07T21:09:00.000-07:00

Hey gang!

Originally, I wanted to do five awards:

-1st
-2nd
-3rd
-Two "finalists" awards for 4th and 5th

But lo and behold...things don't always work out as planned. We had a FOUR WAY TIE for fourth place. So...Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear is PROUD to award four Finalist Awards. Here they are, in no particular order:

Vulnavia Morbius

http://krelllabs.blogspot.com/

Grand Old Movies

http://grandoldmovies.wordpress.com/

Caroline

http://garbolaughs.wordpress.com/

Jim Lane

http://jimlanescinedrome.blogspot.com/

There you go, folks! Congratulations to the four finalists! Stay tuned for our first, second, and third prize winners!

Editor-in-Chief

Nathanael Hood

Blogathon Voting

2011-08-04T05:47:00.000-07:00

Well gang, it's been a great week of blogging! We had 41 incredible entries that examined everything from movies, television shows, comic books, and recipes! But now it's time for everybody's favorite part...AWARDS!!

Here is how it'll work:

1) Voting will take place over the next three days: August 4-7.
2) Everybody who participated gets FIVE votes.
3) You cannot vote for yourself.
4) You cannot vote for anybody more than once.
5) Award winners will be announced on August 8th.

SEND YOUR VOTES VIA EMAIL TO NAHOOD@URSINUS.EDU. VOTES LEFT IN THE COMMENTS SECTION WILL BE IGNORED AND DELETED.

So get out there and start voting, folks!

Here is a list of eligible voters and candidates for awards:

Ivan Lerner (http://ivanlandia1.blogspot.com/)
Kevyn Knox (http://themostbeautifulfraudintheworld.blogspot.com/)
Stacia (http://www.shebloggedbynight.com)
Rick (http://classic-film-tv.blogspot.com/)
Toby (http://fiftieswesterns.wordpress.com/)
Jaime Grijalba (http://Exodus8-2.blogspot.com)
Ivan G. Shreve, Jr. (http://thrillingdaysofyesteryear.blogspot.com)
Team Bartilucci (http://doriantb.blogspot.com/)
Michaël Parent (http://cinephiliaque.blogspot.com/)
Barry P. (http://cinematiccatharsis.blogspot.com/)
Chris Michael (http://recentlyviewedmovies.blogspot.com/)
Hal (http://hornsection.blogspot.com/)
Paul J. Marasa (http://theconstantviewer.blogspot.com/)
Hal C. F. Astell (http://www.apocalypselaterfilm.com/)
KC (http://classicmovieblog.blogspot.com/)
Grand Old Movies (http://grandoldmovies.wordpress.com/)
100 Years of Movies (http://100yearsofmovies.blogspot.com/)
Lauren (http://laurenhairston.blogspot.com)
Amanda (astairerogers.blogspot.com)
Dave (http://davesclassicfilms.blogspot.com/)
Caroline (http://garbolaughs.wordpress.com/)
Jim Lane (http://jimlanescinedrome.blogspot.com/)
Rich (http://widescreenworld.blogspot.com/)
Stuart (http://www.undy-a-hundy.com)
Yvette (http://yvettecandraw.blogspot.com/)
Tim Brannan (http://timbrannan.blogspot.com/)
Kevin (http://kevinsmoviecorner.blogspot.com/)
JHeft (http://whatheft.com/)
Mr. Exploit (http://xploiting.blogspot.com/)
Caftan Woman (http://caftanwoman.blogspot.com/)
Erin (http://initforthekills.com/)
Doug Bonner (http://www.postmodernjoan.com/wp02/)
John Greco (http://twentyfourframes.wordpress.com/)
Rachel (http://thegirlwiththewhiteparasol.blogspot.com/)
Cliff (http://www.things-and-other-stuff.com)
Thomas Duke (http://cinemagonzo.blogspot.com/)
W.B. Kelso (http://microbrewreviews.blogspot.com/)
Vulnavia Morbius (http://krelllabs.blogspot.com/)
Dr. Strangefilm (http://www.moviefanfare.com/)
Secret Sanctum of Captain Video (http://captainvideossecretsanctum.blogspot.com)
Brandie (http://trueclassics.wordpress.com)

So start voting, folks!

Editor-in-Chief
Nathanael Hood