ZachFrances1990 Reviews

Batman (1989)

A Pillar Of 80s Cinema

[1 November 2012]

This film is awesome. My favorite Superhero movie of all time. As a life-long fan of the Caped Crusader, I have to say that if you want the real Batman, look no further. You found him.

There is a certain kind of magic to Batman that no other film adaptation has been able to successfully match. The main difference between Chris Nolan's more recent Dark Knight trilogy, and Burton's 1989 version, is the visual style. The main difference is a place they call Gotham City.

Tim Burton is known for many things, but above all else, it is his bizarre visual eye, a gift that works wonders in Batman. This film looks incredible! Burton creates a Gotham City that the viewer can get lost in. As opposed to Chris Nolan's outings, Tim Burton gives us a Gothic Fantasy of the highest order. Every visual element in this film is perfect; Gotham, the Batmobile, Joker, Batman himself, green ooze-- all of it. Nolan had a way of probing deep into the psyche of his characters, he seems to be a very psychological filmmaker, and he came to with fantastic results. Nolan was obviously interested in different aspects of the Dark Knight than what Tim Burton was drawn to. That makes for two very good and very different films. But the 1989 version reigns best of them all. Tim Burton gave us a work of Pop Art, a visual feast. A masterwork of the highest caliber. Tim Burton gave us a classic. Although his characters were not as moving as Nolan's would be, and the plot was not as complex as later adaptations would prove the Caped Crusader capable of, the film was pitch-perfect, ages incredibly well, and knows what it is. A comic book movie. And what does Tim Burton do with his comic book movie? He elevates the medium of film. Yes. I believe Batman changed the face of film, altered the practice of filmmaking, and raised the bar indefinitely. I have no doubt whatsoever that Batman is one of the finest Blockbusters ever assembled, and one of the best movies ever made.

This movie means a lot to me, and a lot to my childhood. The older I get, the more important this film becomes. Something else happens too. It becomes enormous. Powerful. An event every time I sit down to watch it. Classic Good vs. Evil, rich design, completely unforgettable. I appreciate Nolan's films, I like all of them quite a lot, but when Tim Burton made Batman he had something to prove. This is the only film I can use as concrete evidence to provide support to my claim that Tim Burton is in fact a genius. Sadly, the amount of good films he has made are dwarfed in size by the fleet of stinkers he has produced. But Batman is undeniably the work of a very talented filmmaker.

I wish that Criterion could somehow get their paws on this one. I know its impossible, but one can't help but dream. The film is such a powerful experience, a tour de force from beginning to end; Burton's Magnum Opus. Batman is so very important to a film fanatic like me. This should be taught in film schools around the country. A highly analytical dose of entertainment, the way Burton visually tells the tale is to be admired and studied for its precise tenacity and bold audacity. Tim Burton's Batman is a one of a kind experience that deserves to go down in film history as a pillar of 80s cinema.

Pandora's Box (1929)

Of Louise Brooks (And The Man That Created Her)

[30 March 2012]

No one could create Louise Brooks, just like no one could create Pabst's 'Lulu'. No. Pabst's 'Lulu' had to be real, had to exist, and had to do so naturally; unaware. No. Louise Brooks is not a Pabst invention, and neither is her performance in Pandora's Box. What Pabst did, quite simply, was find his 'Lulu'. The film itself is pure invention, Pabst used psychology as his weapon and his intellect as his charm. He pinned actors against each other, he favored one actor on Monday only to dismiss him by Tuesday. Pabst created the purest form of realism possible. By exposing his actor's insecurities, hiding the plot from them, and initiating mind games with every member of the cast on and off set. Pabst loved chess. His love of chess is evident in Pandora's Box. Pandora's Box is his 'check-mate'. So. No. Pabst did not create Lousie Brooks. Pabst made Lousie Brooks what she is today; an ultimately tragic relic of a bygone age. I cannot believe how astonishingly perfect Pandora's Box was conceived. Pabst is a true nobleman of the cinema for a number of reasons, my confidence will never sway in that regard. Pabst made the perfect film. A rarity, a pleasure, and a true art. His direction, the key to the enigma, only comes out of its perpetual hiding after a few viewings. It is Louise Brooks, and only Louise Brooks, that your eyes and heart feast on during the first time you watch Pandora's Box. Brooks was the most enchanting, dazzling, and transcendental of the silent screen goddesses. In the scene where Shon's is caught making love to her by his fiancé and his son, Brooks delivers the greatest facial expression ever captured on film. An act of dominance and sexual achievement. A grin that is truly timeless, as if she's staring through time and space, testing your wildest urges, daring you to love her, and begging you to beg to forget it. Although Brooks didn't know then, or even cared to know at the time, soon she would have Pabst all figured out. She realized that the greatest performance of her career, and one of the most legendary in all of cinema, was not a performance at all, it wasn't even acting. It was her. It was documentary. I was real. Perhaps the greatest invention belonging to G. W. Pabst was the invention of truth. Things look different when they are being filmed, it is a natural reaction to put on on an act of sort when one knows he or she is being watched. Pabst bypassed that fault in cinematic realism and created reality. Untouched by fabled hands, pure and innocent, L. Brooks. Arguably, Pabst is the only director who has ever accomplished such a remarkable feat.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

Desperate Men Do Destined Things

[12 December 2011]

des·per·ate (des-per-it, -prit) adjective 1. reckless or dangerous because of despair or urgency: a desperate killer.

2. having an urgent need, desire, etc.: desperate for attention.

3.leaving little or no hope; very serious or dangerous: a desperate illness.

4. extremely bad; intolerable or shocking: extreme or excessive.

5. dog day afternoon.

Desperate men in an urgent city. A city that never sleeps. A city where two desperate men decided to launch an assault on heaven, and for two hours, you can hear their cry. Sonny and Sal have long been acquainted with the pantheon of violent and desperate men. They have come to know it's marble steps, and have seen for themselves the caution that creeps freely about the gallery of rogues. But Sonny and Sal are heroes. Stoic and true. They are operatic. Sonny builds warfare out of romance, and Sal constructs a rune out of gasps; those frail, sickly drops of doubt and mistaken destiny. It's easy for me to find poetry in this film, and honesty in all of its characters. Its easy because I know what it feels like to be desperate. To make a stand.. for what? You never really know, but you completely understand, it is justifiable, it holds up in a court of the Gods. And on one hot day in New York City, a robbery that should have taken ten minutes raged on all through the night, into you neighborhoods and local television news channels, you might have even stopped by to take a look for yourself. It is still possible to do something extraordinary. To look death in the eyes and say "We Got All Day"...

The Third Man (1949)

A Truly Perfect Artifact

[8 March 2011]

The Third Man is the most beautifully photographed film of all time. This achievement is director Carol Reed's, and his alone. The dominating force behind the film is Harry Lime, a name heard countless times before we are given a face to go along with it, this achievement is belongs to Graham Greene and Orson Welles. The trust between celluloid and the audience comes from the film's hero, Holly Martins. This achievement belongs to Joseph Cotten. But its the atmosphere that is the most endearing aspect of this classic 1949 treasure of a movie. This is film presents an engrossing experience from start to finish, and absolutely everything about it is pitch perfect. From Vienna at midnight to Trevor Howard's often dismissed, but completely wonderful performance as Major Colloway (Not Callahan, He's British, Not Irish). Orson Welles delivers one of the best performances of all time, due partly to the scene atop a Ferris Wheel, and mostly to his absence, and the care taken by writer Graham Greene in creating a perfect character without ever actually seeing him. Joseph Cotten is superb, hasn't been this good since his lead role in Shadow Of A Doubt or his strong support in Citizen Kane. He makes Holly Martins down to earth, brave, headstrong, and truly American. Alida Valli is breathtaking, and because of her, Anna Schmidt is a character we take joy in watching, making Anna Schmidt one of the greater love interest in the Film Noir genre. The photography is incredible, the city enormous and isolating, the characters are canon, the story is timeless, and the film is perfect. The only hands down and flat out perfect film of the 1940s. A true treasure. A real gift.

Night and the City (1950)

Forgotten: Engaging, Stylish, Tragic, Poetic. (The Lost Poem Of Noir)

[7 March 2011]

A Film Noir is only as good as its city is corrupt. Night and the City presents the darkest. A Film Noir is only as tender as its women are vicious. A Film Noir is only as poignant as its hero is perilous. Meet Harry Fabian. Many disregard the character as unlikable, but I like to think of him as the most easily accessible protagonist in all of Film Noir. Richard Widmark, in his Kiss Of Death best, gives a bold, honest, engaging and truly sympathetic performance. I think when most watch Film Noir, they forget all about empathy, to truly fall in love with Night and the City, you must first empathize with its hero. Have you ever been so desperate you'd do almost anything? I have. Have you ever been so deep in a hole that it could very well become your grave? I have. Have you ever loved someone so much that you'd do anything to give her world? I have. Have you ever wanted to be somebody. I have. Harry Fabian is the desperate Man immortal. He is the most insecure of all Noir heroes, and the most certain to fail. But we're here, we're with him on his long descent straight to hell. The film's uncanny pacing will make you feel completely helpless, like Fabian ultimately does, and since you are a part of the audience and you are thereby privileged with information kept from Fabian, you become aware of the tragedy that awaits him at the end of his descent, unlike our unfortunate hero, Harry Fabian. Night and the City was directed by the exceptional and overlooked true pioneer of Noir, Jules Dassin. Dassin made a few extremely serene pictures at the very height of Noir, his best was Night and the City. Made shortly before his exile during the Communist Witch Hunts of which he fell victim to in 1952, Night and the City is everything a Film Noir should be, and everything it could have been if the genre's longevity had been harnessed and controlled early on, and if his film wasn't so easily swept aside in its time. And with God as my witness, I profess! Night and the City is better than every movie that has ever been made since then, with the one exception of Alexander Mackendrick's 1957 magnum opus and testament of the cinema Sweet Smell Of Success. Night and the City is one of the greatest films ever made, and also one of the most forgotten. Quite like what we'd expect of Harry Fabian. The way that this film seems lost simply mirrors the themes that made the film so wonderful in the first place, all Harry Fabian wanted to do was to be somebody, to be remembered. Sadly, in both film and history, he never was. And that, that makes Night and the City poetic.

The Seventh Seal (1957)

What They Say Is True

[7 March 2011]

What could I possibly say about Ingmar Bergman's 1957 masterwork The Seventh Seal that hasn't already been methodically and unabashedly recorded by film scholars whom spent decades studying this truly powerful film about a knight facing off with Death, and the chess game they wage. But as scholars and fans of the film might suggest, and rightfully so, this film is so much more important than the sum of its parts. It is a film of the highest quality, dealing with questions of the most immediate importance. The film deals with, of course, that of life and death. Spirituality and fixations. Good and Evil. Perhaps no other film, Birth Of A Nation, Citizen Kane, and 2001: A Space Odyssey maybe-- has been so heavily researched, discussed, dissected, and studied. Of course the time spent researching the film is justifiable, Bergman really seems to have uncovered something here, he really seems to have made a film that people cannot only connect to but seek answers in their own private lives from. Now, I do not believe that by understanding Bergman's 'The Seventh Seal' you can automatically unlock the puzzles of existence, but I do believe that the questions Bergman proposes here are vital, as well as important, and that the story itself is in the shortest amount of words, a remarkable and humbling experience. An entertainment of the highest value. A film of the highest quality.

Breathless (1960)

To Reinvent The Wheel

[7 March 2011]

Jean-Luc Godard intended to shake the delicate world of cinema, that much is obvious. But did he intend to reinvent it? Whether it was his intention or not isn't the point, the point is this; he did. Jean-Luc Godard, and Francois Truffuat are the undisputed fathers of the French New Wave. Some cinephiles or historians may feel like pointing elsewhere, to Jean Renoir for example, protesting that he is truly the father of the French New Wave, I disagree entirely. The French New Wave was a product of the kindred spirits and talents of Godard and Truffaut. And no other film represents the French New Wave more coherently than Jean-Luc Godard's dazzling 1960 picture, 'Breathless'. Unorthodox and uninhibited. Raw and experimental. Godard broke every rule in the book, disavowed the laws of cinema, and scribed a new rule book, one where the pages are blank, and possibilities are endless. The story is so simple I can summarize the entire film in half of a sentence, but I refuse to give you or Godard the satisfaction. What counts in Breathless is not the story, but how the story is told. The very definition of 'cool', the film is robust in creativity, and exuberant in its flaws, and passionate about its reckless behavior. Self aware and rebellious. If there was no breathless, there would have been no Tarantino, if there was no French New Wave, the streak of genius that ran through the nineties and 2000s wouldn't have existed. Before Breathless, it was believed that films took money, that you had to find yourself in a place of authority to make a film. Breathless broke this misconception. Breathless makes you want to run outside and make the film of your life. Breathless made that possible, Breathless made the amateur the auteur, Breathless reinvented the face of the cinema, and made you believe that could too. All you need is a girl and gun.

Chinatown (1974)

Ladies And Gentleman, What You Are About To Witness Is An Exorcism

[7 March 2011]

Roman Polanski's genius is questionable. Whether or not he does possess a certain cinematic genius is neither urgent or necessary to conclude. His body of work speaks for itself, his 1974 magnum opus speaks for its decade, reality in the face of theatricality, and for the sanctity of the cinema itself. Now although it is not completely justifiable to prove whether Polanski is or is not a genius, it is rather important to discuss the life of this idolized and wanted man. Roman Polanski was born in the year 1933 in Paris to Polish parents. When his mother and father were forced into concentration camps for being Jewish, Polanski was faced with the unmeasurable difficulty of surviving the Holocaust on his own. His Mother, ultimately, fell victim to the horrors of Auschwitz. If that's not enough, if you would so melodramatically, fast forward to the year of 1969. To the Summer Of Love. To the end of the small portion of Polanski's life he would later recall as the happiest he's ever had. He had a beautiful, talented, and adoring wife. Her name was Sharon Tate. The baby inside of her, she and Roman would never name. In August of 1969 the Manson Family laid slain to Sharon Tate and the baby inside of her, both terrorizing and taunting, the darkest chapter of Polanski's life was marooned with notoriety and fear. It was only a few years after the death of his wife where Roman would leave his mark on the world forever. Chinatown flows with a lavishly perfected Noir tone, and I should add here, the film is the Neo Noir archetype, the best of its kind and one of the best that Film Noir carries in its respective canon. Also, whenever one sets out to write about Chinatown, one cannot understate the delicacy, the supreme handling of pacing which is to be found in this particular film. Not before, and not since, has pacing been so well thought out, so marvelously calculated, and devilishly crafted. Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway stand immortal in this film, bellowing through the tenement halls inside of every dirty city confined within every Noir film in rotation. If Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway stand luminous as Kings of their respective Kingdom, then John Huston stands apart; shrouded in darkness, transparent, eager, vicious, immediate. John Huston's 'Noah Cross' exists, alright, and the most dangerous thing about the 'Noah Cross's of the world is that the evil within them is otherwise ordinary, bottomless, and unstoppable. Robert Towne's script is simply impeccable. Flawless storytelling accompanied by snappy dialogue, and a climax that cuts deeper than that of documentary reality. But it is Polanski who is the true star of this picture. You can see him in every shot, peering in through the lens, and directly into your heart. You can taste him in every dry patch of dialogue, smell him in the midst of gun smoke, and fear him as the tension culminates into the wake of tragedy. It is there, in the tragedy, he dares you to hope for the best, he wants to feel safe because films make you feel comfortable. He takes the trust that he'd earned from the audience, and crushes it, oh, and he makes sure it stings. He makes sure it hurts. And in in the aftermath of the his final act, his final betrayal, the ultimate tragedy, he makes sure you can feel him. He leaves you in pain. He leaves you guilty in satisfaction. Knowing that tragedy is the most universal of luxuries, Polanski makes that perfectly clear, and for the first time, his voice is heard, his war cry. Coherent and horrifying.

The 400 Blows (1959)

The 400 Blows And The Three Prodigies Of The Cinema

[7 March 2011]

In my eyes, there are but three true geniuses of the cinema. There are only three filmmakers who do not make films to either make money, garner artistic achievements, or even out of some truly pure and long harbored dream. There are only three men who made films because they were born to, because this world gave them no other choice. People who were meant to stand behind the camera, to tell a story, and to live 24 frames per second. Prodigies, immortalized by celluloid, there stand but three born geniuses of film. Stanley Kubrick is one of them, Orson Welles is another. And so is Francois Truffaut. Truffaut in particular strikes an interest with me personally, if for no other reason than he too was a film buff, and like me fanatical when it came to the ones he loved, and often times tyrannical when it came to the ones he detested. Before Tarantino was hailed as the film buff triumphant, before Martin Scorsese's obsessive lists came to light, there was Cahiers du cinéma, there was Francois Truffaut. Now I have neither the time nor the patience to scribe the depths of his fanaticism, but believe me, I'm fanatical, you may too think yourself something of a radical cinephile, but when it comes to Truffaut's love for the cinema and obsession with the screen, we all seem like Michael Bay fans. He was the critic triumphant, but damn was he a brilliant writer. You can tell by reading his early writings, particularly his Portrait of Humphrey Bogart or an essay titled God Bless John Ford, to pages upon obsessive pages articulating the lengths of Orson Welles and the brilliance inside of him, or his assessment of Jules Dassin's 1955 crime masterpiece 'Rififi', he talked about films in a way I'd never heard. Films touched him, deeply. They moved him, and captured his soul, and he was thankful each time the lights dimmed and the film started, he was thankful for the baptism that moving pictures gave him. His film debut was to be titled Les Quatre Cent Coups, or The 400 Blows. The 400 Blows in an intimate, private, autobiographical, and improvisational account of misunderstood youth, and the adolescent innocence of petty crime. The film features child actor Jean-Pierre Léaud, in a performance of a caliber so immense, no child actor has been able to scale it's weathered boundaries. It is a pure tale, both heartbreaking and undeniably heartwarming, it is a film that not only looks beautiful, but is beautiful. It is one of the best stories ever told, one of the most personal accounts ever reproduced from one's own life for the silver screen, and it marks Francois Truffaut's salutation to the wonderful world of the cinema. The screens were his conquer, and he knew had to do it. To scale the highest peaks. He was born to. The world gave him no other choice.

Blow-Up (1966)

A Film That's More Than Worth Seeing Before You Die

[11 July 2009]

I light a GPC cigarette as I begin to write my review of Michelangelo Anotonioni's 1966 classic film 'Blowup'. I watched 'Blowup' for the first time roughly two and a half weeks ago, and still, there are images, sounds, and ideas I can't get out of my mind. This film is a mystery, but at the same time it is anti-mystery, this film is often categorized as a thriller, but is in its own right an anti-thriller. Our hero, an anti-hero, our climax, an anti climax.

The use of visuals is spectacular to say the least. The way the camera lingers can often be interpreted in many different ways; as experimental developments in the self reliance of human laziness, or the looming creative impotency of our star, or simply as technical style.

The story revolves around a photographer who stumbles upon something larger than himself. His curiosity sucks him in, but how deeply it doesn't is the real kicker. The anti hero in the anti mystery.

The end scene is emotionally biting. The message still changes in my head day in and day out. The truth found in this film will stay with me forever.

This is most definitely a film worth seeing before you die. There are only 27 of them. This one is more than worthy of the top 250. I say we knock off mediocre films like 'The Shawshank Redemption' and put some actual masterpieces up there.