#219. The Vikings (1958)

 

 

The problem I tend to have with historical epics from the '50s and '60s is that they're usually devoid of personality, so The Vikings has an automatic leg up on the competition merely by being charismatic and boisterous and kind of pulpy. The presentation's still a little on the dry and earnest side for my liking, but there's enough exuberance and energy throughout that I was honestly surprised by how invested I was.

 

You can also really feel the communal effort with this one. The writing's got some morally compelling character dynamics, the cast (particularly Kirk Douglas and Ernest Borgnine) brings a lot of welcome flavour and intensity, the cinematography, courtesy of Jack Cardiff, is rich, beautiful, and atmospheric, and Richard Fleischer ties everything together with his textured direction. A lot of people are firing on all cylinders here.

 

So even if a handful of the slower scenes somewhat impair the pacing (the lead-up to that final battle is perhaps the worst example), and the relationship between Jamie Lee Curtis's parents is a total afterthought, the otherwise unique interplay, exciting bursts of action, and keen mix of opulence and depravity ensure that this is ultimately a higher-tier swashbuckler. 

 

Grade: A-

#204. Cleopatra (1934)

 

 

This is another one of those romantic dramas from the '30s that I find works best when it's at its most comedic. Maybe that speaks to the fact that I simply prefer a lighter tone when it comes to older films, but I think it's also because the kinkier, campier qualities are such a perfect match for Cecil B. DeMille's grand spectacle and opulent sets/costumes.

 

It's also a pretty great fit for Claudette Colbert, whose playful assertiveness keeps everything more affable and charming than the script probably deserves. And even if she doesn't have a ton of chemistry with either of the male leads (though that's mainly because both men are going for stoicism, which is so overwrought that it undercuts the possibility of any real sizzle), her strongest moments are typically the ones where she effortlessly toys with them.

 

As for the drama, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't all a little tonally rigid and structurally abridged for my liking (which results in such uneven pacing that it makes the movie somehow feel both slightly too long and far too short), but the scale is doing enough heavy lifting that you can still generally grasp the intended weight. It's just that these conflicts kinda pale in comparison to, say, a pre-Code sex scene that comes complete with swelling music, opaque curtains, and dancing performers.

 

Grade: B+

 

#174. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 4-5

 

Here it is, the most widely reviled film of my lifetime. We all know the story: expectations were unreasonably high, and all those years of build-up and excitement eventually led to disappointment, which turned to anger, which turned to hate, which turned to endless screeds about how George Lucas "raped" our collective childhoods (yes, people actually said that).

 

It was all a bit much, honestly, to the point where the heavy backlash inevitably received a backlash of its own. Nowadays, you're much more likely to hear about how this trilogy's actually underrated, and that the initial reception was far too negative. I'd like to agree with that stance. I really would. But it frankly doesn't survive actually sitting down and re-watching the damn thing.

 

Yeah, sorry, but, all these years later, long after I've come to accept this prequel for what it is, it still doesn't do all that much for me. I don't hate it by any means (in fact, the kiddie tone [along with Darth Maul and "Duel of the Fates"] might even give it a tiny leg up on the two entries to come), but the defects are just too overwhelming to ignore. They almost go without saying at this point: convoluted plotting, clunky pacing, wooden acting, awful dialogue, bland CG environments, a general lack of passion, etc. Despite the wealth of potential here (which might partially explain all the fruitless fan edits), most of it's squandered by tedious storytelling and lazy creative decisions.

 

Now, in fairness, Lucas always insisted, rather defensively, that these movies were made for children. Maybe so. But I was six years old in 1999, and, as a member of that target audience, I can assure you that I still would've chosen any of the Original Trilogy episodes over this one every single day of the week.

 

Grade: C+

#168. The Departed (2006)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

Ever since this one took home Best Picture and Best Director at the Oscars, you'll occasionally hear talk about how they were both largely legacy wins, and that those accolades probably would've gone elsewhere had Raging Bull and Goodfellas not been snubbed in the past. I myself wasn't immune to this line of thinking: The Departed has never not been enjoyably entertaining to me, but the heavy plotting and admittedly mediocre visual palette always kept it from being a personal favourite.

 

That is, until now. Re-watching the movie for the first time in over a decade, I can finally recognize that "entertaining" was an extreme understatement. This is among the tightest, fastest, angriest, most pulse-pounding, tension-mounting, and neatly-packaged (I love stories that manage to tie up every single loose end) thrillers I've ever seen. The whole thing's overflowing with vitriolic dialogue, dark humour, fluid cinematography, flawless pacing, star performances, and aggressive flip phone action, and I had an absolute blast from beginning to end. 

 

Now, is it Marty's "best" movie? Probably not, but I will say that 1) there's some stiff competition in that regard, 2) that doesn't diminish how masterful and downright fun it is, and 3) it's gotta be among his most rewatchable. Once the credits started rolling on this latest viewing, there was a part of me that wanted to run it back, which is an impulse I rarely get, and one that I haven't truly felt since I started this blog.

 

Grade: A+

 

#142. Ali (2001)

 

 

I think what I like most about this movie is that it knows how the boilerplate biopic formula should be presented.

 

When you stretch a narrative over the course of ten years, it tends not to work especially well as drama. And that's arguably the case here: we don't get much insight into Ali's state of mind, most of the subplots (especially the ones involving Drew Brown and Malcolm X) are extremely underdeveloped, and it all starts to feel very connect-the-dots after a while.

 

But what Michael Mann gets is that this episodic structure lends itself much better to montage than it ever could to realism. So he instead turns the whole thing into a hazy, impressionistic spectacle, using music and vivid imagery and a feverish blend of film and digital cinematography (those nighttime workout scenes really anticipate Collateral and Miami Vice) to create a brooding, soulful, myth-making whirlwind. We may not learn a whole lot about this man, but it's incredibly easy to see why he was bigger and more legendary than any of us could ever hope to be.

 

Bit of a shame that this style peaks so early in the movie, though. Those first fifteen minutes are so striking and stimulating that the remainder really has nowhere to go but down.

 

Grade: A-

#96. El Cid (1961)

 

 

The issue I take with a lot of these double-VHS epics from the early '60s is that they almost always felt the need to turn their heroes into saint-like figures, robbing them of personality and depth in the process. It's Ben-Hur and Spartacus all over again: when the protagonist isn't interesting, I'm only gonna be so invested in the story - which is kinda lethal when we're dealing with a three-hour runtime.

 

And it's a shame, because these movies really are quite impressive otherwise. As expected, the production design is simply breathtaking here, with elaborate costumes and sets captured via meticulous detail and surprisingly decent cinematography. And the on-location battle sequences are equally spectacular, especially considering how many extras seem to be involved.

 

I can certainly appreciate and admire a movie like El Cid. As spectacle goes, this is pretty much the definition of a cinematic epic. But between the unengaging script, a few wooden performances (Heston's doing his typical "serious hero man" thing, to similar results), and the generally dry presentation, it can also be a bit of a chore to get through.

 

Grade: B-

 

#36. Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970)

 

 

This is one of those war movies that feels more like a history lesson than a piece of drama. Generally speaking, that's not really my thing, and it doesn't always work for me here (especially in the opening forty-five minutes, which are ungodly dry), but I do think there's something admirable about the scrupulous, impartial approach that it takes.

 

Specifically, I'm talking about the fact that we get to see everything from both perspectives. And while neither side ever bothers to develop any of its characters, and everything runs kinda grey (especially on the American front), I think the movie finds some energy in those moments of cross-cutting as the tension begins to mount.

 

This pays off with the extended attack sequence, which, while overlong, is so technically remarkable that it mostly makes the slow build-up worth it. And I also appreciated that, right through to the very end, the movie never chooses one side over the other. I still think the emotional impact would've been far greater if the human element was more present, but, as textbook chapters go, this is an impressive recreation all the same. 

 

Grade: B