Ben-Hur (1959): Shira's Take

The most pressing order of business: this felt NOTHING like the William Wyler movies we've watched so far. Mrs. Miniver and The Best Years of Our Lives both show the painful effects of war, while Ben-Hur is the type of movie to ignore the subtleties and show you the whole war instead. In fact, it wouldn't just show you the whole war. It would show you the drama building up to the war, then some flashy battle scenes, then more drama, then more flashy battle scenes, etc. until you're just so completely sick of the characters that you can't stop looking at the time and wishing those three-and-a-half-plus hours would go by quicker.

Not since Gone with the Wind have I seen a movie that tried so hard and failed so miserably. You would think that a movie this long would somehow find a way to make me interested in the characters or the plots, but you would be completely wrong. Unlike a movie like Gigi, where I'm actually frustrated with the plot, Ben-Hur didn't keep me invested enough to get frustrated in the first place. I just couldn't care, no matter how hard I tried, about anything.

Now on to the good stuff. Good performances all around (except Haya Harareet, who was simultaneously the only convincing Israeli and the only nonconvincing human). The chariot race scene lived up to its fame. It was exciting and gorgeous. I actually liked that we never saw Jesus's face.

In general, I think that Cecil B. DeMille should have been alive to make this movie, and if he had, it would have been no different. Wyler did a good DeMille impression, but it's still a generic, big, uninteresting DeMille picture. Note to myself: There was soooo much gay subtext between Judah (Heston) and Messala (Boyd). The scene in which Judah says that Messala saved his life and Messala says something like, "It was the best thing I ever did," and then looks Judah up and down as if picturing him naked is priceless. I said to Eitan early on, "It's a story of star-crossed lovers!" 5/10

Ben-Hur (1959): Eitan's Take

The subtitle of Ben-Hur is "A Tale of the Christ," and it's difficult to watch the movie without acknowledging the gracious hand of (fictional, narrative-based) Jesus Christ moving the elements of goodness and kindness against the elements of hatred and betrayal. I'm not Christian, but I definitely felt the good will of the original teachings in the Gospels moving the film along, and giving hope and a sense of purpose to Judah Ben-Hur (the magnificent and robust Charlton Heston). But even more than the hand of Christ, I felt the power of Jewish values seeping into every part of the story. It's a definitively Jewish tale about perseverance, loyalty, hard work, family, faith, and being great at sports. This is why it fits so well in the (unofficial) Charlton-Heston-as-a-beefy-Jew trilogy, which also includes The Ten Commandments and Exodus.

Three times wider than it is tall, the scope of the print itself lends an incredible gravitas to the film. The cinematography, production design, special effects, and costumes allow us to become completely immersed in the grandiose world of Roman Judea. But unlike The Ten Commandments, this story of the Jewish people feels raw and personal. The hurt we feel when Messala watches his childhood friend and his friend's mother and sister be sent to the dungeon over a false accusation is real. When Judah is unshackled in the galleys, we feel just as confused and determined and awed as he does -- that he will survive, and watch his friends die. Usually in big-budget movies (see: Michael Bay), so much gets lost in creating a spectacle that we forget that the spectacle of death, religion, and politics is brutal to those involved. Ben-Hur never lets us forget that these are real people.

People often talk about this movie solely from the perspective of the chariot race, and it's definitely magnificent in every conceivable way. The wide-wide-wide aspect ratio is our portal into one of the most incredible moments in cinema history. Every second of it feels real and urgent. The spikes on Messala's chariot glisten with pure evil. The horses gallop round the turns and you feel the intensity in the pit of your stomach. George Lucas tried to mimic this scene in Star Wars Episode I, but watching this today I was only reminded of how miserably stupid that whole sequence is. CGI alien bugs racing around in hovering special effects while Jake Lloyd shouts and hollers in prepubescent glee? It's no contest. Also, the same narrative elements (betrayal, revenge, Roman tyranny, swords/sandals, and coliseum sports) are used in Gladiator to much, much weaker ends. To even compare the two movies is almost heretical; real movie buffs know which was is up, and know that Gladiator is a pale imitation of Ben-Hur.

Either way, the movie is so much deeper and so much more important than just a single scene, exciting and innovative as it may be. Every scene is finely crafted to blend religious parable and real life drama in such a way that you can't tell where the plot ends and the inspirational and awe-inspiring subtext begins. At almost three and a half hours, I can honestly say I didn't want it to end. A truly deserved 10/10. It earned every one of the 11 Oscars it won, a feat matched only by Titanic (which falls victim to its own spectacle) and Return of the King, which is a towering cinematic achievement in very similar respects.

Gigi (1958): Shira's Take

Not making a good first impression, Gigi starts off with a song that may have been charming and whimsical in 1958 but is just disturbing now: "Thank Heaven for Little Girls", which includes the line, "Those little eyes so helpless and appealing..." Okay, I'm sorry, but how could that not be misconstrued? Honestly, I can't even see any way that that song could ever have been anything other than messed up. It didn't help that it was sung by Maurice Chevalier (who played Honore Lachaille). If you grew up on Disney movies, you may recognize his voice from The Aristocats title track. I did, and I was deeply disturbed.

From then on, I could not help but compare the movie to The Aristocats. The trials and tribulations of the aristocratic Parisian life at the turn of the 20th century are not particularly interesting. Fortunately, Aristocats features the late great Phil Harris (Baloo, Little John, etc.), really great songs (unlike Gigi--the only one that stuck with me was the perverted one, and it will NOT be a good song to have stuck in my head in public), and an awesome story. The movies share a setting and an Eva Gabor, but the main difference between them is Gigi sucks and The Aristocats...doesn't.

I truly gave it a chance. Leslie Caron (who played Gigi) is an incredibly talented dancer, as we learned in An American in Paris, and a relatively talented singer, so I was not dreading this movie the way I presume Eitan was. But she hardly danced at all. Work with what ya got, people. I cared so little about the characters, and I found that as the movie went on, I hated Gaston (played by Louis Jordan) more and more. I don't think that was supposed to happen.

One more complaint/question. Did they ever explain why Gigi's family is so poor, when they obviously are well aware of aristocratic behavior? How did her family know how to teach her to act like a proper woman when they had no money to begin with? Actually, don't answer these questions, because I just don't care about the movie at all. On which movie do others spit their loogies? Naturellement! Gigi! 5/10

Gigi (1958): Eitan's Take

With all due respect to Gena's lovely mother, Gigi is just not my thing. At two hours, it was two hours too long. These French parlor movies are just miserable for me; take everything I loved about An American in Paris and everything I hate about the Princess Diary movies, mash them together for a 116 minute homage to manners, big dresses, gentlemen in tophats and canes, cheese, fountains, and how to turn women into coffee-serving machines for a man's infinite pleasure, and you get Gigi. Shira seemed unsurprised to find that I was far more interested in playing with our kitten Leroy than actually watch the movie.

After the complex moral fables woven through The Bridge on the River Kwai, Gigi is not just a letdown because it is so empty and trivial and garish; it is a letdown because it advocates ridiculous and offensive morals. Early in the film, Gaston is congratulated for his amazing achievement... breaking a woman's heart so badly that she commits suicide. "Congratulations on the suicide!" all his friends cheer. This is not only bad plot. It made me ill. Ditto to the opening and closing song, "Thank Heaven for Little Girls," sung by Honore with such pedophilic glee that I would have turned off the movie the first time had I not committed myself to watching the it for this project.

The movie also sets a really poor example: listen to your nitwit grandmother and great aunt, commit yourself to a life of corset-bound unhappiness, obsess over emeralds and pearls, lose your ENTIRE sense of fun and spunky attitude, and maybe -- just maybe, if you compromise everything that could make you a fun and NORMAL person -- you'll get to wear a big purple dress and ride around in a carriage while an old man sings about how he spies on young girls playing in parks. The rest of the songs are awful and unmemorable, especially the one where the "chorus" whispers nasty things about Gaston and his first girlfriend while they pass through a ballroom. Hideous tempos, awful lyrics, and even more ghastly melodies.

I was told to look out for this movie, and now I know why. 3/10, ONLY for the impeccable production design and lush cinematography, as well as for Leslie Caron's eyelash-batting.

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957): Shira's Take

I have a question. Did Colonel Nicholson (played by Alec Guinness, a man of genuine class) blow up the bridge on purpose? I think my understanding of the movie would be much greater if I knew what the intention of the filmmakers was on this matter. Was he upset about getting Shears (played by William Holden, who just loved getting shot and falling into water in the 1950's) killed, and so he saw the "error of his ways" and blew up the bridge on his dying breath? Or was that just a tragic, ironic end to his life? I suppose it doesn't matter too much.

Absolutely beautiful setting, so my eyes were very happy. I felt that the movie took longer to get started than necessary. Everything up until Nicholson was let out of the "oven" under Colonel Saito's (Sessue Hayakawa's) amnesty was pretty boring. I think it's probably bad that I've seen Apocalypse Now before ever seeing The Bridge on the River Kwai, because all I could think in the ending lines ("Madness! Madness!") was, "The horror!"

Alec Guinness totally deserved his Oscar for this movie, as he was really amazing. I think the movie was, considering how huge and important it still is fifty years later, actually imperfect. Still, it was pretty close. 9/10

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957): Eitan's Take

Like On the Waterfront, the Bridge on the River Kwai is about making tough decisions and standing up for justice, no matter how imperfect it may be. And, like On the Waterfront, it is a genuine masterpiece. Early in the film, we witness Maj. Nicholson's (Alec Guinness) stubbornness and petulance in the face of Japanese commander Saito. In refusing to let the officers in his unit participate in the POW camp's manual labor tasks, he appears to be foolhardy and selfish... putting his own life and the lives of his colleagues at risk. Over what? But as he loosens the nerves from Saito and grabs hold of the reins of the bridge project, we watch as his gambit pays off tenfold.

Nicholson displays a unique kind of leadership in this film; to use an analogy I've heard a lot during the 2008 presidential campaign, his managerial philosophy is more like chess and less like boxing. In looking ahead and keeping tabs on the men most important to the cohesiveness of the POWs, he boosts morale down the road, inspires creativity and workmanship, and pushes the hundreds of gaunt prisoners above and beyond to successfully craft a beautiful bridge for their Japanese captors. When Nicholson nails the final plank to the bridge -- bearing the date and the names of the honorable British soldiers who built the gigantic structure -- we feel an immense pride in him.

The film could just be a typical "overcoming the odds" story, but it's much more crafty than that. It's cliche to say so, but the narrative is quite a bit like the bridge itself -- in the wrong hands, it would have been a haphazard project, but under the guidance of maestro and director David Lean, it's dense, grandiose, and highly detailed. Each storyline, from the bridge construction to Shears' (William Holden) ingenious commando operation to destroy the bridge, is held together with brilliant acting and a keen sense of purpose. Never stepping into the realm of the political or even the allegorical, we watch as the intensity thickens, as the bridge and all the craftsmanship that went into it become a reality, as the British and American mission to destroy it becomes a consuming passion for those involved, and as a catharsis nears that pits these two forces against one another. Sometimes, as we also learned in All Quiet on the Western Front, man is his own worst enemy, and the Bridge on the River Kwai pulls no punches and omits no human flaw to show that incredible truth. For its inspiration, for its portrayal of the undefeatable beat of the human spirit, and for its epic conclusion, 9/10

I have deep admiration for every war movie to ever win Best Picture. Remind me again why Saving Private Ryan isn't one of them?

Around the World in Eighty Days (1956): Shira's Take

It was a fine movie, but it was a bad best picture winner. I remember associating this movie with It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World as a kid (similarities being that both movies include a crazy race and both feature about a thousand familiar faces), but, as far as I remember, It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World is Way Way Way Way Better than Around the World in Eighty Days. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the guy at the piano turning around and being Frank Sinatra, or the conductor on the train that is getting attacked by Indians being a really old Buster Keaton, or Passepartout (played by Cantinflas) waking up on a ship to a particularly rotund Peter Lorre playing a ship steward. Even better were the ones I didn't notice and saw in the ending credits. That woman in the saloon was Marlene Dietrich? The "Indian" princess was a young Shirley MacLaine? Awesome!

Basically, I guess this movie was pretty entertaining, and it was big in a way I often like movies to be, but it had no place winning BP. 1956 was a weak year, and I don't really care too much about ANY of the movies that were nominated (Wyler's Friendly Persuasion, Giant, The King and I, and The Ten Commandments).

My final comment has to be that as Eitan and I were watching this movie, I got the corresponding songs from the Chipmunk Adventure in my head for each scene. When they were in Spain, I got the Mexico song in my head ("I yi yi yi yi yi like you verrrry much...") Then, when they were in India, and we saw snake charmers, I started singing, "Tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you." Anyway, it's a very basic 6/10.

Around the World in Eighty Days (1956): Eitan's Take

Around the World in 80 Days is the first Best Picture winner, to my recollection, to be filmed in both Technicolor and beautiful panoramic widescreen and boy does it earn that distinction. Though it's an imperfect film, it's so abundantly imaginative and exciting that, like the Greatest Show on Earth, it's hard to hate it. However, with its charming British wit and its adventurous cinematography, it clearly goes places -- both tangibly and narratively -- that the Greatest Show on Earth could never even dream of doing. By the end, I'd concluded that it's not quite a deserving Best Picture winner, but it's a classic that should have a place among the world's great global capers (It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World, etc.).

David Niven has the perfect gravitas to play Phileas Fogg, who is a rather one-dimensional character, and Cantinflas is positively delightful as right-hand man Passepartout. The situations they get into are, of course, absurd -- floating over the Alps (and grabbing snow to cool their champagne), bullfighting in Spain, rescuing a princess from the horrific practice of Sati in India, evading Scotland Yard detectives, riding steamboats to Hong Kong and Yokohama and San Francisco, getting into a ridiculous 30 minute steampunk train fight with a gang of wild Sioux, etc. But it all makes for a rather wondrous journey, at times quaint, riveting, mysterious, and genuinely pulse-quickening. Some of the sequences are so dense and so epic, that you can forget that you're not just watching a full-length movie about the Wild West or a steamboat journey or an elephant adventure through the forests of India.

But two things must be said: first, this is merely a VERY LARGE BUDGET adaptation of the work of one of the world's greatest science fiction novelists, so it's not as though story credit can truly go to the people who made the book a reality. And second, you might as well watch it on mute, as it must be one of the most visually sumptuous films to come out of the 50's. The cinematography is done by Lionel Lindon, who also photographed episodes of the richly textured television seriesAlfred Hitchcock Presents... as well as Rod Serling's dark noir Night Gallery. Watching this movie using the digital projector in my bedroom was a great treat. The colors leap off of the screen, and many of the great vistas could have just gone on forever. A truly beautiful color film, with unique and exciting international scenes, that provides an easy counterpoint to the dark (and also brilliant) B&W cinematography of On the Waterfront. You could easily mistake this movie with films from the 60's that were shot with much better technology.

This delightful, if a little empty-headed, G-rated romp earns a 7/10. As a movie. As a Best Picture winner, I think most would agree it falls short of greatness. But if you don't have a place in your heart for a movie this FUN, I don't know what to say.

Great cameos, by the way.

Marty (1955): Eitan's Take

About the only thing I knew going in to Marty was that Herb Stempel famously lost to Charles Van Doren on 21 with a question about this utterly wonderful Best Picture winner. Every once in a while, it seems the Academy puts away all their love for big epics and dark mysteries and tales of desperation and woe and falls head over heels for a warm gem like Marty. (Recent nominees Sideways, Little Miss Sunshine, and Juno definitely fall into the small-budget-big-heart category that this movie kicked off).

Ernest Borgnine is adorable as oafish Italian lump Marty, who feels pressure from his stereotypical mom and his weaselly friends to go out and score a "tomatah" at a dance hall or a dive bar on 72nd. But fate steps in and hands him a wonderful, if a little homely, woman named Clara who's dumped by a jerk at the Starland Ballroom. A night of meet-cute ensues, and their relationship takes funny and charming turns at every chance encounter.

As a film, Marty is just like a warm patch of sunlight. For 90 minutes, we get to bask in the glow of a sweet underdog story, with moments of perfect nebbishy romance (Marty running through the streets, exhilarated, trying to find a taxi after he drops Clara off at her house, is one of the most romantic moments in any Best Picture winner, ever) and an undefeatable humanity shining through.

An 8, with a big smile on my face.

Marty (1955): Shira's Take

To get my one problem with the movie out of the way: If the screenplay has multiple references to the character of Carla (played by Betsy Blair) being a "dog" and looking 35, 40, or even 50 years old, why did the casting department not find someone who would be believable in that role? Betsy Blair looked younger than Ernest Borgnine (who played Marty), which she was supposed to be. She also was significantly better looking than he was, because Ernest Borgnine is a weird-lookin' dude. She was adorable.

Now, on to the good stuff. Very little to say. I liked the screenplay (which, halfway through the movie, when I remembered that Paddy Chayefsky wrote it, made a lot of sense). The movie in general was very cute. That's about it. I smiled a lot, but I don't feel like I'm going to remember this movie so well. This is the second romantic comedy we've watched, after It Happened One Night, and I feel like it has less to it, but it's about as good. A pretty solid 8/10