88. Caddyshack

Harold Ramis, 1980

“So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.”

This movie is practically a Bartlett’s Book of Quotes unto itself. Seriously, there are so many brilliant and hilarious lines in this sucker that I can hardly stand it and, of course, you have an all star cast of comedy dishing them out. Bill Murray, Brian Doyle Murray, Chevy Chase (the funny years), Rodney Dangerfield, Ted Knight. If comedy where somehow an olympic sport, this would have been the US team and they would have won the gold, baby (for the sake of completion, USSR would have taken the silver with a team led by Yakov Smirnoff). Everything out of Bill Murray’s mouth is a gem. If you will indulge me for a moment, I would like to relay to you the film’s finest monologue before going on to the meat of this thing. This is, of course, Bill Murray as Carl. “So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on a s a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I’m a pro jock and who they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald. . . striking. So, I’m on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga. . . gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he’s gonna stiff me. And I say, ‘Hey, Lama, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.’ And he says, ‘Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.’ So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.”

Doubtless that piece and many others were improvised (for the record, I also love the exchange about the Smails kid picking his nose and the old Billy Barule). The best bits of comedy here all feel so organic, so much a part of the man delivering the line that I doubt it could be anything else. My sincere guess is that Harold Ramis just let his actors, the skilled ones, not Danny or the Smails kid, riff and picked the best takes. Still, there is one more line that I feel deserves to be singled out and that is the film’s final line, delivered by Rodney Dangerfield as Al Czervik. The misfit golfers stand victorious. Judge Smails and his lot are defeated. Rodney stands triumphant in front of the pro shop, arms in the air. The deck is filled with young people looking on and Rodney shouts, “Hey everybody, we’re all gonna get laid!” Admittedly, this is not a funny line in and of itself, but I think, next to “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” it may be the finest closing line of any film ever made. After all, what other line so perfectly and succinctly captures the very spirit of the film as that. This is an early eighties, light hearted, free wheeling comedy that’s unabashedly filled with sex. What greater triumph could there be for this film in which every character, when not on the course, is trying to do just that? Even Rodney taking over the course pales in comparison to the promise that everyone, down to the greasy kid with the Babylon 5 t-shirt, is gonna get laid. Happy ending? You bet your ass.

89. The Picture of Dorian Gray

Albert Lewin, 1945

Oscar Wilde’s novella, The Picture of Dorian Gray, is one of the finest books I have ever read and is certainly one of the most beautifully written. Ever word, ever sentence is perfect. In my experience, there is really only one other book like it, Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. In each case it is not so much the plot or the characters I love, although both Dorian Gray and Lolita have fantastic plots and memorable characters, but the very written word which sets them apart. This is why I think I have always found Kubrick’s Lolita so disappointing. It is a decent movie, make no mistake, but it simply cannot capture, by the very intrinsic differences between film and printed word, the true soul of the novel. Because of this, I was convinced that no adequate film adaptation of Lolita could ever exist. This assumption then extended to The Picture of Dorian Gray by the same logic. Sure, a film could capture the plots and the characters, but if even Kubrick could not capture the beauty of Lolita’s mechanics, how could someone else. Well, the 1945 Universal production of The Picture of Dorian Gray does the impossible. The plot and the characters are well intact, thanks in no small part from excellent performances, particularly from Hurd Hatfield as Dorian and a young Angela Landsbury, who received a supporting actress nomination. Further, the world of Dorian Gray is expertly captured with inspired period costumes and production design. No attempt is made to remove Dorian Gray from its Victorian settings, unlike common film adaptations of Sherlock Holmes stories, including the Basil Rathbone features (Moriarity working for the Nazis? Come on.), or Universal’s own adaptations of Victorian classics like The Invisible Man.

What truly sets this film apart though is a clear understanding of the beauty of Wilde’s written word and a desire to match it with the unique mechanics of film. That is to say, the filmmakers, and I’ll single out director Albert Lewin and especially cinematographer Harry Stradling here, approach the beauty of Wilde’s prose with the beauty of the camera work. The cinematography here is simply remarkable, particularly for the period. The camera is completely uninhibited, indulging in several absolutely stunning tracking shots and creating some of the finest black and white compositions I have ever seen. Indeed, the picture won the oscar for best black and white cinematography that year. I would even go so far as to say that the photography here approaches the brilliance of The Third Man, regarding black and white cinematography. Yet, it seems as though no one has seen the film. I am not sure why. It certainly has its champions; Turner Classic Movies in particular regularly champions it as a great forgotten film. I would guess that there is a combination of things at play. One is that the film is probably dismissed as being just another of the Universal Horror Cycle, and a late entry without a suitable monster at that, released long after the glory days of Whale’s Frankenstein or Browning’s Dracula. The other is film scholarship’s bullheaded adherence to auteurist theory. After all, neither Lewin nor Stradling appear to have ever made anything as remarkable as this. Regardless of the reason, this is a film that deserves much more exposure.

A final note, the picture is in black and white, but technicolor sequences are used for all the shots of the portrait itself. This could easily have turned out cheesy, but the result is very effective, separating the portrait into a semi-mystical film space all its own.

90. UHF

Jay Levey, 1989

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Stupid!”

Sadly, this is the one and only film on the list featuring “Weird Al” Yankovic in the leading role. It is not the only Fran Drescher movie on the list. It is also far from the only Billy Barty, midget extraodinare, movie on the list. And what a movie it is folks! Weird Al is put in charge of his local UHF station. To say that hilarity insures would be an understatement. The plot is a bit thin, but it’s really only there to hang the wacky comedy on, all of which clearly follows in the Airplane! tradition. You have general hilarity in the form of Michael Richards’ dimwitted janitor and his love for his mop and in things like the ingenious twinkie-wiener sandwich and watching Imo Phillips cut his finger off, but the real gems here are the TV and movie parodies. Since this is a movie about running a TV station, they fit in perfectly, and since you have the insane mind of Weird Al and his writing partner Jay Levey behind it, well, you get gold. I know, I know. Some of you are thinking, “How funny can these so-called parodies be? We saw Stay Tuned, you know, the one where John Ritter goes to TV hell, and that wasn’t funny. How can this be?” Well nay sayers, it just is. You get such terrific bits as the commercial for Spatula City (“We sell spatulas. . . and that’s all!”), Conan the Librarian (“Don’t you know the Dewey Decimal system?”) Gandhi 2 (“Gimme a steak. Medium rare.”), Raul’s Wild Kingdom (“Did you the turtle is nature’s suction cup?”), and best of all Wheel of Fish. Wheel of Fish is a game show, wherein contestants spin a wheel on which are attached several fish. It is hosted by Al’s neighbor and karate instructor Kuni, played by Long Duk Dong himself. A contestant spins the wheel and wins the fish they land on, in the case of Miss Weaver it is the red snapper. Very tasty. Weaver has the choice of keeping the fish or she can go for what’s in the box that Hiro-San is bringing down the stairs right now! Weaver, of course, picks the box. What’s in the box? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Stupid!

Genius.

91. Miracle on 34th Street

George Seaton, 1947

There are three films that I need to watch every Christmas or it just doesn’t feel like Christmas. I don’t know what it would feel like instead. Probably Arbor Day. Anyway, one of them appears higher up on this list. Another is Ernest Saves Christmas, and thank God that we can rely on the stout heart of one Ernest P. Worrel to save Christmas each year. The other, and most recent addition, is Miracle on 34th Street. For those of you who haven’t seen it, and you should be ashamed, this is the story of a man named Kris Kringle who shows up at Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and is appointed the store Santa. He proceeds to be the best Santa ever, telling parents where to go to buy toys that Macy’s doesn’t have, even to Gimble’s. Damn you, Gimble! Soon, Macy himself comes around to Kris’ way of thinking and Kris gets no more hassle. Meanwhile, he’s staying across the hall from Maureen O’Hara and her disbelieving daughter, all the while teaching them to believe in things again. Yes, that thing is Santa, but the film is clearly implying renewed belief and faith in general. So, you know, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Chanukah Zombie, Arbor Al, Jesus, etc. Thing is, Kris, who usually lives at a funny farm, low security no worries, up state, really believes he’s Santa. This leads to a court case in the third act to determine whether or not this man is legally Santa. Great stuff.

Really, this is an amazing and thoroughly genuine movie almost sixty years after the fact. Damned heartwarming is what it is. But the reason it ranks so highly for me is a lot like the reason I like Superman: The Movie so much. It takes a popular, (clear the room of children) fictional character and strips him down to his core qualities, all the while reinforcing what makes him so beloved around the world. With Santa, that means crafting the nicest, kindliest old man who ever lived. Yeah, it might be a little femmy of me, but I don’t care. I leave this movie, every year, just digging Santa and remembering why it was so much fun to believe in the Jolly One as a child. And that’s just what this movie does. For an hour and a half, you get to believe in Santa again, you get to be a little kid on Christmas morning and its an amazing accomplishment for any film. This wouldn’t be possible without Edmund Gwenn’s masterful performance as Kris, bringing a glow, a wisdom, and an absolutely contagious mirth to the character. Finally, I’d like to share with you all my favorite moment from this film. Does it choke me up a little? Maybe, I’m not sayin’, but what it does do, without question, is get at that absolute core of who Santa is. So, Kris is sitting there in Macy’s holding court before a bunch of little kids when a woman brings up the next little moppet. One problem, though, she tells Santa that the kid is Dutch. Doesn’t speak a lick of English, but she insisted on coming to see Santa. He, she believes, will be able to understand her. Now, it’s important to note that, at this point in the film, the other characters and the audience all see Kris, not as the One True Santa, but as an amiable cook. We love him, but he ain’t Santa. This is reinforced within the movie itself by Natalie Wood, disbelieving nine year old watching from the sidelines. Anyway, Santa has the Dutch girl on his lap and, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, he starts speaking to her in Dutch. The woman who brought her is amazed. The little Ducth girl’s face lights up with joy, but not with surpass. After all, she knew Santa would understand her. So, there’s Kris Kringle, supposedly a crackpot, sitting there and singing a traditional Dutch Christmas song with this little girl. Natalie Wood sees it all and she comes to the same conclusion we do. Kris Kringle is Santa Claus and that’s a miracle.

92. The Untouchables

Brian De Palma, 1987

Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is a really great action movie. The morality of it, a film about a group of incorruptible cops, is admirable. The supporting cast is uniformly terrific. De Palma’s homage to Eisenstein’s Odessa Steps sequence is brilliant. Whatever. Really, though, I do agree with all of that, and they all contribute to why I like this movie so much. And, yes, Costner’s not very good in it. I agree. Still, I feel like getting right to the root of my love for this movie today and that root is Sean Connery. As much as Witness for the Prosecution is Charles Laughton’s movie, this is Connery’s. True, we’re several decades past Connery’s hey day, here. Clearly, the Bond movies are where he will always shine brightest and for which he will be best remembered. There are also other films from that time in Connery’s life that I love, such as Hitchcock’s Marnie, but what The Untouchables does, and I think this applies to audiences in general and not just me, is that Connery, a Connery with a beard and white hair, an old man, still kicks all sorts of ass. In The Untouchables, Connery plays the one straight cop in the whole department, back in prohibition era Chicago. His name is Jim Malone and for all his efforts to be honest, he remains, at his age, a beat cop and a damn good one. The man readily upstages Costner at every turn and is clearly as much of a bad ass as ever. He walks through the movie, head held high, fighting the good fight, acting as mentor to Elliot Ness and his Untouchables. Clearly, Connery came to the set of De Palma’s film to chew bubble gum and kick ass and he was all out of bubble gum. If you haven’t guessed, I’m in awe of just how cool he is here.

A big part of what makes any Connery movie and any Connery part, though, is the dialog. “Surely you’re joking,” “Bond. James Bond,” “Either, provided the collars match the cuffs,” “Well, one of us smells like a tart’s handkerchief,” “I suddenly remembered my Charlemagne,” “Why didn’t you send it to the Marx Brothers,” are just a few of my favorites, but The Untouchables has great Connery lines in spades. Admittedly, I have a little difficulty working some of these into everyday conversation, but, as those of you who know me can attest, I do manage to pull it off. Anyway, “They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That's the Chicago way,” “Isn't that just like a wop? Brings a knife to a gun fight,” “Oh, yeah. He's as dead as Julius Caesar,” “Oh what the hell? You gotta die of something.” All great. I particularly like the one about the morgue. It’s a good thing to say whenever you’re going to Chicago, get to Chicago, someone asks you the way to Chicago, etc. Finally, there’s Connery’s death scene in this sucker. He’s sitting around the house one night when Capone’s men show up. Connery blows them away with a shotgun, but not before one of ‘em plugs him half a dozen times. So, there’s Connery, lying on the floor, full of holes, bleeding to death. He drags himself into the next room, writes Ness a rather lengthy note about what happened, and manages to stay alive, by sheer force of will, still lying on the floor, to wait for Ness to arrive to not only deliver the note personally, but have a little conversation. I hope I go half that well, because that, sir, is bad ass. That is Connery at his best.

93. Alien

Ridley Scott, 1979

Alien came out back in the day when Ridley Scott was great. Back then, a Ridley Scott movie was a trip to strange new world, like those in Alien, Blade Runner, and Legend. Sure, you knew how some of the rules worked. After all, those films in particular were, in essence, a horror movie, a film noir, and a fairy tale, but Scott always managed to take them to the ultimate extension in both story and image. These are beautifully shot movies with rich worlds. In Alien, our primary sets are the downed alien space craft and the Nostromo. The Nostromo is, essentially, what one would expect a future cargo ship to look like, but just by the very nature that this is the future, that it isn’t something we see regularly, it is fresh to our eyes. Further, what Scott has done here, obviously with the help of some highly talented production designers, is create a “realistic” future cargo space ship, if that can even be said. The Nostromo is dirty, dark, cramped, and messy. Again this was something we weren’t used to seeing. So often in science fiction, at least up until the seventies, all space ships, even cargo carriers, were clean and bright with a lot of Christmas tree lights all over the place. So, again, something you don’t really see all the time. The downed alien space ship is another thing all together, though. Based, apparently, on designs by the European artists Moebius and H. R. Giger, this ship is unlike anything before it. It, like the alien when we finally see it, is truly alien. This is not some rocket or flying saucer. It is not a ship built or used by anything even vaguely human. It is smooth and curving, more organic than manufactured, and it is huge. You almost get the feeling of being inside the gigantic corpse of some poor creature than of being in a star ship. Different and that’s a big part of why I like it. When I see a film, I love seeing something I haven’t seen or don’t often see anywhere else. And if it is something I’ve seen before, I want to see a unique interpretation of it, the same old thing, perhaps, but shown to me in a new way.

So, I think it’s kind of strange that this Ridley Scott is long gone. It’s almost like a pod people sort of thing. One day, the man’s taking us to bold new worlds and now he only cares to visit the present day or histories visited once too often. With Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, and 1492, we have, respectively, the Roman Empire, the Crusades, and, well, 1492. Nothing new here. Hell, I was even excited about Gladiator, but there is nothing terribly new here. Instead, we get two dimensional characters involved in a vague political struggle that is, at best, Sparticus warmed over. Likewise, G. I. Jane seems to be Fully Metal Jacket part 2, albeit with Demi Moore doing her best Sinead O’Connor impersonation. Hannibal was just crappy, which is a shame since you’d think the man who gave us Darkness from Legend and Rutger Hauer’s replicant could do something with Hannibal Lechter. I didn’t see Black Hawk Down and I won’t see Matchstick Men, which, disappointingly, has nothing to do with men built out of matchsticks. Sigh. And, finally, Ridley Scott directed Black Rain? Admittedly, I know nothing about this movie. I’ve never seen it, but it is one of the funniest home video boxes I’ve seen in my life. You’ve got Michael Douglas trying, and I do mean trying, to look like a bad ass, sitting astride this big black motor cycle. He’s got a cigarette, sun glasses, jeans, leather jacket and then, a big, goofy looking NYPD badge, a really dopy gray wool sweater, complete with that most bad ass of fashion statements, the turtle neck, and the most eighties hair style I’ve seen on the man. Really, it looks kind of like Mr. Novak, a teacher I once had, trying to look bad ass (although, Novak had better hair). But this guy? Catherine Zeta-Jones married this? Whatever.

So, what does all of this have to do with Alien. Not a lot. I guess this really turned into more of a tirade about how disappointing I find Ridley Scott anymore. Yet, I suppose that is really a part of why I do like this movie so much. It’s almost like I respect it more based on how little I respect Scott’s later output. The same thing really applies to the other Alien movies as well: Aliens, Alien Cubed, and Alien Resurrection. A big reason I like this movie is how skillful a horror film it is. It’s truly suspenseful, largely because of the claustrophobic environment, a largely unseen monster, which, unlike most, is not disappointing when we do finally see it, and the simple fact that it is an alien, which means that, unlike, say, a vampire movie, this is one where we don’t know the rules. Face huggers? Acid blood? Second, creepier, smaller mouth? Wierd, wild stuff. With the sequels, though, we know the rules. We’ve seen the alien. What’s more, the sequels stop even trying to be horror movies and try to be action films. Aliens, with the exception of the seen with the aliens coming through the corridor and our heroes watching only with a motion sensor, is a by the numbers, not at all suspenseful, shoot-em-up. As for Alien Cubed and Ressurection, well, they just suck. Except Alien Cubed does have Doctor Who in it, but then that just shows what a big nerd I am. So, in the final analysis, and I am sorry if this is all a little confused, but I am kind of thinking this out as I’m writing it, I like Alien a lot. It’s different, it’s genuinely suspenseful, and it’s a lot better than it’s sequels, in it’s own franchise and in Ridley Scott’s personal work.

94. Witness for the Prosecution

Billy Wilder, 1957

It seems that with my last several postings, I have been dealing primarily with the looks of films, choosing movies with flashy costumes and production design, and, while I have been discussing acting, it has been primarily to point out heavily stylized or, let's face it, heavily campy performances.  This film, however, is different.  It is all about the acting and the characters.  Let me say right off, though, that that is by no means a slight to the look of the film.  I have a great deal of respect for Billy Wilder as a director and I adore his sparing use of the camera, let alone his ability to deal with both deathly serious and wildly comical subjects, often in the same movie, but I will talk at length about Mr. Wilder elsewhere in the list.  For now, let me talk about the two people who really make Witness for the Prosecution one of my favorite movies: Marlene Dietrich and Charles Laughton.  Dietrich plays Mrs. Christine Vole, wife of accused murderer Leonard Vole (played by Zorro himself, Tyrone Power, in his final role).  Dietrich's Christine is an unbelievable cold and calculating woman whose true emotions are impossible to tell.  She expertly crafts an enigma for the viewer, never letting show her true self until the very end of the picture and adding to the overall mystery of what really happened as it unfolds through the film's central courtroom drama.  Christine, I should point out, is the title character, the witness for the prosecution, further confusing the truth of her loyalties as he refuses to take the stand in defense of her husband.  The film offers an excellent showcase for Dietrich's acting prowess, showing not only how effective she can be as a detached mystery woman, but displaying a full range of emotions and acting styles.  I am reluctant, however, to go into further details on that point for those who have not seen the movie, but once you have, I think you'll see what I mean.

As I said, the plot of Witness for the Prosecution unfolds as a courtroom drama.  We do not see the crime itself, but watch the story unfold through its litigation.  It's a bit like only watching the second half of Law and Order.  Because, after all, the first half is always so blah.  Oh sure, I like the old detective dude, or did, but I don't ever like any of his partners.  Also, I like Sam Waterson a lot better and, you know, I kind of have a thing for Angie Harmon, so that second half. . . wait.  Where was I?  Right.  So, it's a trial and Mr. Vole's lawyer is none other than Charles Laughton.  Now, make no mistake, while he may only have third billing, this is Laughton's movie all the way.  With the role of Sir Wilfrid Robarts, Laughton crafts one of his most memorable characters.  When we join Sir Wilfrid, he is recovering from a heart attack.  Beleaguered by his ever present nurse, Sir Wilfrid immediately endears himself to the audience both with his rapier wit and the amusing ways in which he attempts to defy his nurse, not only by taking this intriguing case, but by stealing and then secreting away cigars and alcohol, hiding them throughout his private office for later.  It is through Sir Wilfrid that we watch everything unfold and his reactions are always as perfect as his schemes.  So often he takes in the case with the cool ability of a man long comfortable in his role, but when surprises come, and they do come, particularly in the wholly unexpected twist ending, which I won't reveal here, his own surprise and outrage is perfectly relatable and perfectly entertaining.  In the end, this is as well crafted, well acted, and just flat out entertaining as just about any movie on this list and is easily my favorite courtroom drama, at least as regards those told from the point of view of the lawyer.

95. The Fifth Element

Luc Besson, 1997

It mu5t be found.  This was the unforgivably cheesy tag line for what appeared to be yet another forgettable sci-fi picture in the mid to late nineties.  I mean really, do we need to use numbers when a letter will do perfectly well?  Still, I suppose it's better than Se7en.  At any rate, this had all the markings of a film along the lines of Supernova or Space Truckers.  Imagine my surprise on finding this visually rich spectacle when I came home from the video store.  Just as Flash Gordon brought a decidedly different, and largely ignored, vision to sci-fi in the eighties, The Fifth Element brings an entirely new cinematic vision to the nineties, but where Flash Gordon was heavily influenced by camp aesthetics and perhaps eve the work of Mario Bava (I'm thinking especially of Planet of the Vampires here, wish I'd thought of that when I made the Flash Gordon posting a couple of days ago), Besson seems to be drawing from the European sci-fi comic book aesthetic in The Fifth Element.  For those of you familiar with the magazine, I think you'll agree that the film has more than a passing resemblance to the average issue of Heavy Metal, the long running European sci-fi anthology.  Of course, there was a film directly adapted from Heavy Metal.  That film, an animated feature released in 1981, just doesn't capture the aesthetic in the way The Fifth Element does.  This seems to me to be largely due to the fact that it is an animated feature and not of the best quality.  Not to mention the simple fact that, as much as I myself champion animation, there is something about pulling off the same aesthetic in live action, which Mr. Besson does expertly, that is much more gratifying.  His success in this realm is astounding.  The cities, the space ships, the airport/spaceport, the aliens, the costumes, and even a McDonald's all appear to be torn from the pages of that magazine and the design boards of Moebius, himself one of the production designers and an accomplished artist in the European comics scene as well.  All of it looks thorough alien and completely stylized, yet none of it looks fake.  The aliens themselves, who involve a great deal of animatronics and make up effects and who are lighted with bright, consistent lighting, rather than being hidden in shadow as many film creatures are, look remarkably real.  One race is fairly reptilian and are essentially guys in suits with animatronic heads, but they do not appear that way.  The paint and make-up applications, creating convincing texture and sheen, are entirely convincing. 

The plot itself, revolving around the search for a "fifth element" that will save the earth from an amorphous evil space blob, is really as silly as Flash Gordon's, let alone anything from Heavy Metal.  Yet, once again it works.  Yet again, we have a film in which all of the actors are working to sell the material, although most of them don't resort to shameless over acting.  Both Bruce Willis and Milla Jovovich play their parts essentially straight, if more than a little eccentric, and it works.  Gary Oldman is the only one of the cast to really go out of his way to chew scenery, and he is just as successful.  It really amazes me how well these contrasting styles work.  The only real problem here is Chris Tucker.  You need to understand that this is not a film that takes itself entirely seriously.  Oh, it certainly takes itself more seriously than, say, Flash Gordon does, but it does strive to be fun and entertaining, freely acknowledging the delightful eccentricity of the characters and the sets.  Thus, for the first two acts, the film clearly needs no specifically comic relief character.  Admittedly, the third act is a great deal more action oriented and less frivolous, but so many of the eccentricities, particularly that over the top evil that Gary Oldman crafts so effortlessly, persists.  Still, the filmmakers seem to think that we need a character to inject some more of the film's earlier humor into the last act.  Enter Chris Tucker's future DJ character, Ruby Rhod, phallic imagery definitely intended.  Rhod is incredibly annoying and lessens every scene he's in.  The film's sense of humor works very well for it throughout, especially early on, when it is spread out between a number of characters and situations, but when that humor is concentrated into one being, he becomes too much to bear, especially when, as I have said, as much humor as is necessary continues to exist outside of him.  Still, his appearance is not as bad as, say, Jar Jar Binks.  While he diminishes the film, he does not ruin it and The Fifth Element remains near perfect spectacle on every level.

96. Bubba Ho-Tep

Don Coscarelli, 2002

Every so often, a movie comes along that gets me real excited.  Ants in the pants excited.  Often, these movies really disappoint.  Take, for example, Anchorman.  I thought that had the makings of a damn funny movie and it turned out to be a disjointed mess.  Really, that's what usually happens, but, sometimes, the movie lives up to the hype and proves to be every bit as absurd as I could have wished.  Needless to say, when I first heard about Bubba Ho-Tep, I got really excited.  Don't spill the beans excited.  Not only was it to star the great Bruce Campbell, the finest b-movie actor of our day, it had one of the weirdest, most original plots I'd ever heard of.  Get a load of this.  Elvis is not dead.  Instead, he is living out his final days in a Texas nursing home along with JFK, who also isn't dead, and who is played by Ossie Davis, who is a black man.  The government dyed him that color.  Anyway, a zombie is threatening the nursing home, sucking the life force from the patients and Elvis and JFK have to stop him.  How great is that?  Still, it could have turned out really lame.  However, I bit the bullet and bought the DVD sight unseen.  It was great.  The movie fully exploits its absurd central plot without ever spiraling into out and out comedy.  Sure, the film has its comic moments, but it is, at its heart, an excellent horror film and a fine character study.

Bruce Campbell is terrific as Elvis.  It's probably his best performance to date.  His Elvis is an old man, somewhat feeble and impotent, waiting to die.  He makes the king pathetic and pitiable as we watch him bitterly reminisce and complain about the growth on his willie.  That all changes when the zombie arrives.  Suddenly, Elvis is energized.  He is even capable of moving his willie.  He's walking around getting things done.   He has a purpose now at, as an audience, you cheer.  Sure he was bitter, but Campbell kept him likable.  Like I say, he is a pitiable character and it is hard to pity someone you don't care anything about.  So, when he is reinvigorated and goes on to fight and, hopefully, stop the zombie, you really do find yourself rooting for the king.  The film is aided a great deal by its look, a gritty, grain realism, awash in browns and tans.  The nursing home is not fancy, but run down, and the supporting cast has the look, not of Hollywood players, but of the character heavy faces possessed by the casts of a Leone film or a Sturges.  This realism, which keeps the film and all its lessons rooted in a space we can neither dismiss nor ignore, and the portrayal of Elvis' often pathetic last days work a great deal toward the film's admirable, and somewhat rarely seen, moral.  Ultimately, this is a film about old age and how we cast aside our elders.  Elvis and JFK whither away in this hole in the wall with only memories of past glories to keep them sane or insane, as in the case of our heroes, neither of whom are definitively identified as being who they say they are, although we hope they are.  Only once they can contribute in a meaningful way do they become vital again.  Still, why this movie clearly cares about the elderly, it is hardly pedantic and is, at its best, an enjoyable and thoroughly ridiculous, if shockingly real, horror yarn. So, to sum it all up, why do I love this movie? Well, it's weird, wholly original, and, by God, it's a lot of fun.

97. Flash Gordon

Mike Hodges, 1980

"Gordon's alive?!"

This was a big, big movie for me growing up. I must have watched this movie at least once a month throughout much of my youth. As a lad, I found it flash and exciting. Today, I find it campy as all get out, and delightfully so. Cast from the same mold, in many respects, as Barbarella, Flash Gordon is a traditional sci-fi action story focused through a camp lens. The story, adapted from the old movie serials and Alex Raymond's beloved comic strip, Flash Gordon is the story of a sports hero turned astronaut who, along with the pretty Dale Arden and nutty Russian, Dr. Hans Zarkoff, travel to the planet Mongo where they must ally with the native Mongons(?) to defeat Ming the merciless. So, it's a pretty odd story to begin with. As far as the film itself is concerned, I absolutely love the production design. The scenery and costumes are lush with bright, primary colors, much more garish than any real comic page. They are all large, flashy, and, in many respects, operatic. Take, for example, the bright red, billowing cloaks, completely with high, head encompassing collar, worn by Ming himself or the bizarre, patent leather uniforms worn by his henchmen, many of whom resemble a sort of weird fusion of Broadway and an S&M club. Further, many of the designs are lifted right from the old serials, including cylindrical rocket ships and, my personal favorite, hawkmen with large, intentionally fake looking wings that, even in flight, don't flap. In the 80s, it seems like most film futures and alien worlds, like those seen in The Road Warrior or Aliens or, for that matter, Masters of the Universe, were bleak, black and gray dystopias. Thus, from a visual standpoint, Flash Gordon's completely excessive, over the top look is really alone in its time and really unlike the look of any other movie I know, which is certainly part of why I love it. True, the film's look begs comparison to other camp classics, like The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but there is something about putting it in space that makes it work better and allows for greater extremes. After all, Priscilla, and most other camp films are somewhat limited in that the camp characters or camp elements are limited, surrounded by and confined by the normal world in which they work. To continue using Priscilla as an example, our cross dressing heroes may be fabulous and outrageous, but the contemporary Australia in which they operate is, by necessity, that is by the constraints of the contemporary or even real world Earth setting, is normal, bland and unremarkable. With the planet Mongo, on the other hand, one has the distinct advantage of a wholly alien planet and culture. There is no need for Mongo to conform to Earth norms in any way, thus the filmmakers have complete freedom to make their world as garish and operatic as they wish, which the makers of Flash Gordon do to great, strangely beautiful effect.

Despite the visuals, though, the film simply would not work if the actors involved were not willing to camp it up themselves and play absolutely larger than life. Thankfully for us, most of them do. The cast is made up of primarily familiar faces. The only real exception is a woman named Ornella Muti, who plays Ming's exotically beautiful daughter to vampish extremes. Otherwise, we have Topol playing Dr. Zarkoff as an absolute nut ball, the great Max Von Sydow somehow managing to combine an utterly regal presence with great over the top megalomania as Ming, Timothy Dalton using the same Errol Flynn impersonation he uses in every film, see The Rocketeer for more of this, as Prince Barin, and my personal favorite, Brian Blessed, for those of you who don't know him, think poor man's John Rhys-Davies, as Prince Vultan, lord of the hawkmen. It's amazing, but in a cast comprised entirely of people over acting to their hearts content, Blessed really distinguishes himself, almost literally gnawing on the scenery. Every line is shouted with a strange faux Shakespearian accent, his face a mask of utter delight in the part. Really, and this applies to most of the cast and Blessed in particular, you just don't often see actors having this much fun on film. Oddly, the only exception is a rather dull, conventional performance from Sam J. Jones as Flash. Still, I think this movie's a lot of fun and, of course, it's utterly ridiculous.

Music by Queen.

98. Fahrenheit 451

Francois Truffaut, 1961

Based on the book by Ray Bradbury, this is the story of a future fireman who is seduced by the power, the ideas, of the very books which it is his duty to burn. You see, in this future, houses are fireproof, rendering obsolete the traditional role of the fireman. Instead it is the duty of Guy Montag, the main character, played by Oskar Werner, and his fellows to seek out all books and destroy them. In the course of the film, Montag is seduced both by the books and by Clarisse, a young woman whom he befriends and who is herself a renegade reader. The film, of course, begs the question, what would a world be like without books? I know what some of you are thinking: great! Never again will Anne Rice darken our shelves! Yet, we would also miss all the great classics of literature and the ideas within. The film’s, and probably the book’s, I haven’t read it, greatest and most provocative idea is the book people, a group of people living in the woods, memorizing and reciting their one favorite book until the day they die, preserving literature until these dark ages pass. As Truffaut has artfully constructed for us a world without words, the image becomes a dominant force, as it always should in film, but I digress. Except for those words that appear within books, there are no printed words in the film. Indeed, even the credits have been erased, replaced by a deep, somewhat chilling voice over, conducted over a series of the future’s copious TV antennae. There is even a newspaper, consisting entirely of wordless comic strips.

There is one thing that bugs me about this film and that is its denomization of the television. Much like in Orwell’s future, this one seems to carry with it a requirement of a large TV in each house. The monitor is always on and always broadcasting the most banal fluff. Before I continue, I would like to point out that I am no great Truffaut scholar, so I am going to avoid attributing authorial intent regarding this next bit of business, but it does seem to me that one could read a denomination of the television into this film. It is clear that the TV makes mindless drones of those, like Montag’s wife, who spend their lives sitting before it. Of course, the film implicitly praises the printed word and, as a film itself, the filmic image. Indeed, Fahrenheit 451 is artfully shot and directed. The colors are bright and powerful, a striking contrast from the usual future dystopia, and the sound design is terrific. I particularly like the constant use of footfalls throughout the film, heightening the atmosphere of a barely hidden fascist state. Further, the camera work by Nicholas Roeg, who would go on to direct films like The Man Who Fell to Earth, is perfectly understated. Still, while books and films get ample praise, the TV gets the short end of the stick, so to speak.* This is my problem with the film. I am one of those who believe that the televisual image is capable of as much power as the cinematic one. True, there is a great amount of crap on television, but I would quickly remind anyone that for every Fahrenheit 451 to grace our cinemas, there is a Ghost Dad waiting around the corner and television is equally capable of such extremes of crap and greatness (i.e. Veronica’s Closet and Veronica Mars). True, one could make the argument that Fahrenheit 451 depicts a world in which television has been wholly bastardized or simply that Montag’s wife has no taste or even that complicating the telescreen would detract from the film’s largely black and white moral world, but it is still a bit of a thorn in my side, both for this film and in general, and I just thought I’d use this opportunity to get it out there. So there.

But before I go (I know this has gone on a bit) I do want to single out Julie Christie’s double role as both Clarisse and Montag’s wife, Lisa. She’s absolutely phenomenal. So much so, that when I first saw the film, I had to double check a couple of time to see if it really was one actress playing both characters. She plays total opposites and does so perfectly.

*This does make me think that this is probably Truffaut’s intention and not just something I’m reading in as Truffaut himself was both filmmaker and film writer.

99. Excalibur

John Boorman, 1981

This movie is huge in every conceivable way. First off, it’s like three hours; so it’s a long sucker. Over the course of the film, we seem to traverse most of England while dealing with bigger than life characters in the bigger than life legend of King Arthur. Unlike, say, The Sword in the Stone, Boorman’s scope is epic. With Excalibur, he has decided to tell more of the Arthurian legend than any other film made at the time (and perhaps even now, although last year’s Arthur* may encompass more; I didn’t see it; it looked stupid), and, while it doesn’t recount every tale from Malory’s Le Morte D’Arthur, Boorman’s primary text, the film does make the effort of showing everything from Arthur’s birth, a result of an affair between his father Uther and the Lady Igrayne, to his death and journey to Avalon. Still, as flashy and legendary as the whole thing is, with beautiful suits of armor and enormous castles, all bathed in green light (a byproduct of the green gels used to try and make the landscape appear more lush), the film is intensely gritty and real. While Boorman devotes a good portion of the film to, if I may paraphrase Broadway, the brief, shining instant of Camelot, he does not shy away from the tragedies of the legend, devoting just as much time to the Arthur, Lancelot, Guenevere triangle and fall of Camelot. He makes no qualms about Mordred being the son of Arthur and his half-sister, Morgana and even offers a surreal and disturbing quest for the holy grail, particularly the scene in this sequence featuring several dead knights hanging by the neck from the branches of a dead tree as ravens pluck their eyes out. The reality is underscored by the often gritty photography and the dark, confusing final battle, which remains one of the finest ever filmed.

I began this write-up by explaining how big the movie is and it is clear from watching it that the actors all have the same impression. I swear, nearly every line in this movie is shouted. The cast itself is a veritable who’s who of ‘80s British actors, including Nigel Terry, Gabriel Byrne, Patrick Stewart, and a young Liam Neeson. Still, there are two performance which really stand out for me. The first is another screen vamp, Helen Mirren as Morgana. Mirren plays the woman to a ‘t,’ embuing her with a guile, cunning, and sexuality that I think is rarely seen. The other is certifiable mad man Nicol Williamson as Merlin. Nicol brings his usual trappings to the character, creating a Merlin who may well be a raving, jibbering lunatic, with a fine sense for theatrics. I really love this Merlin. The way he talks to himself and swings in range of intensity really creates the sense of a man unstuck in time that legend attributes to Merlin, but which few filmmakers ever bother to attempt. His costume, consisting of battered, vaguely Celtic rags and a steel skull cap, are another excellent touch, suggesting a man of untold age from an unknown place who belongs just as little in the time of Arthur as he would here and now. Again, there’s just no overstating how big a movie this is. Admittedly, it can be so big that it does get a little goofy, but, unlike with Masters of the Universe, everyone here is selling the movie on every level, whether it’s the actors or the production designers or the cinematographer or the director. It’s all so convincing in its own way that it has forever supplanted any other telling of the Arthurian legend for me, becoming my definitive text of the round table.

*I should probably point out right now that by Arthur, I mean Arthur, the legendary king of fifth century England, and not Arthur, the legendary drunk of 80s New York, played by perfection by Dudley Moore in Arthur and for a check in Arthur 2: On the Rocks.

100. Masters of the Universe

Gary Goddard, 1987

I am forced to admit that this is a pretty stupid movie and, to a degree, I’m reluctant to start of this list with it. Still, I’ve decided that the last thing I want to do is apologize for the entries on this list. It is after all my list, my favorite movies. I make no claims that these are the greatest movies of all time. That said, Masters of the Universe is a terrible movie. The plot, such as it is, revolves around He-Man traveling to a 1980s Earth suburb via the cosmic key, a goofy hi-tech synthesizer. Once there, he screws around for a while, while Skeletor tries to conquer his home world of Eternia. Now, the He-Man of my youth was a Conan the Barbarian type of character, running around in furry little short pants, whacking the stuffing out of guys with a broadsword. Here, he’s a soldier for a futuristic dystopia type of planet, who still slaps guys around with a broadsword. I don’t really have much of a point about that, I just found it weird that the filmmakers would change the whole backdrop of the property in a movie who’s entire chance of survival seems to rest with bringing kids into the theater who liked the cartoons and toys. As for the effects, they’re mostly passable, but still not very good and there’s something underwhelming about Skeletor’s futuristic attack fleet arriving on a suburban midwestern street, as opposed to the middle of New York or something. This is a big scene, when a whole mess of bad guys pour out of a rip in space to beat up He-Man, but it really just feels like The Last Starfighter warmed over. Then there’s the acting from the likes of professional slab of meat and Rocky IV antagonist Dolph Lundgren (as He-Man) and future Friends star Courtney Cox (as some Earth chick). Needless to say, the performances are almost universally awful, tired, stilted, and with no conviction whatsoever.

So, if I’m ripping on this movie, why is it on the list? Well, I do like it. As dopy as most of it is, it can be a lot of fun. Part of that is its very stupidity. This movie is as big a hunk of ‘80s cheese as you’ll ever see and it doesn’t just have the goofiness of a Commando-style action movie, it adds goofy sci-fi/fantasy effects and plots and, yes, that shot of all the soldiers on a suburban street is pretty funny. Further, there are two performances in this one that I really like. The first is the always eerily beautiful Meg Foster, terrifically vamping it up as the subtly named Evil-Lyn. The second is a delightful, scenery chewing performance from Frank Langella, as He-Man’s arch nemesis, Skeletor. Both actors know how goofy, cheesy, and even campy the movie is and they revel in it. They tailor their performances, and I say this because I’ve seen each act with restraint in other films - Langella most recently in Goodnight and Good Luck, to fit the tennor of the film and, so, really sell their characters. They camp it up for the sake of the movie and the sake of the audience, and, by God, it works. Finally, the real reason this movie makes the list, is a certain undefinable quality the movie has for me. If I’m watching TV on a Saturday afternoon, or any time really, and I come across Masters of the Universe, usually on WGN, I simply cannot turn it off. Whatever point the movie is at, I have to sit there and watch it through to the end. I don’t really know why, but it is a compulsion of mine and I do love it.

Coming Soon

Party Peoples,

As you've no doubt noticed, I've decided to enter the fast and exciting world of the "blog." Still, don't make any mistakes, this is a short term deal at best. If all goes well, this thing will be seen by some sort of bigwig newspaper magnate and get syndicated world wide. If that happens, I will quickly both sell out and hire a ghost writer, while I myself hastily blow my newfound wealth playing chemin de fer in Monte Carlo, thus necessitating my return to the blog, which, due to the shoddy nature of the ghost writing, will have left the national syndication market and found its way back to what is certain to be a rarely seen website. Circle of life.

At any rate, I'm going to be talking up films; films I like, films I hate, films I think you should see, films I've recently seen, and just general notions on films that seem like a good idea when I'm up against a deadline to post on this stupid blog so that it will be seen by some bigwig newspaper magnate, etc, etc. First up? This hastily put together glimpse of things to come. What then? Well, generally speaking, I'm going to be using this space, at least initially, to post my list of my 100 favorite films of all time. Each day, you'll get a film and the reasons why I like it. There will probably be a picture of a poster. I don't know. Leave me alone. Beyond that, I'm sure the list will occassionally be interupted by general missives and rants. Get it? Got it? Good.

Also, please feel free to comment on any of this or send me some sort of complaint e-mail. It's all cool. Part of the reason for the blog, and the list especially is to generate discussion. Right now, I intend to post daily, excepting Saturday and Sunday. Sunday is of course the Lord's day, and we all know how Jesus feels about weblogs. If you don't, just run over to jesus.blogger.com. It'll fill you in. As for Saturday, well, in the words of the great poet lauriate Elton John, "Saturday night's alright for fighting." Given that, I think you'll understand if I spend the day prepping for rumbles and not posting to this thing.

Alright. That's all I've got. I hope you enjoy, at least up until I lose interest.

Eric