What a glorious feeling it was to behold the Best Picture win for “The Artist!” A celebration of the glory of silent film, a look at the industry’s apprehension during the pioneering days of the talkies, and an ultimate wide-faced grin at what film would become … sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Benjamin Sutton of The L Magazine wrote this in a column back in December: “[T]he lion’s share of ‘The Artist”s many narrative and aesthetic quotations allude to films of the sound era,”specifically naming “Singin’ in the Rain” as a movie he constantly saw parallels to within Hazanavicius’ movie.
I saw “Singin’ in the Rain” a few weeks before watching “The Artist,” and perhaps part of the reason why I felt the movie suffered a slight dearth of originality was because it was so obviously inspired by Gene Kelly’s classic musical. I don’t, however, intend to judge the original solely in terms of the knock-off. Such would hardly do justice to a movie that has stood the test of time and is still a fun romp six decades after release.
As a riotously fun musical in its own right and a parody of the overblown proclivities of the genre’s early classics, “Singin’ in the Rain” follows Kelly’s Don Lockwood, a silent film star who exudes more charisma than George Valentin, as he is forced unwillingly by his studio into talking movies. When he is shown a demonstration of the new technology at a party, he scoffingly laughs it off. But with the success of “The Jazz Singer,” Kelly has no choice but to add sound to his latest picture.
That brings up a unique problem though: his leading lady Lina Lamont has a grating and screeching voice that would totally destroy her image and the film. Quick thinking leads him to bring on Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds), a songbird if ever there were one, to provide dubbing services for Lina. The zany, crazy situations that follow are as numerous as Gene Kelly’s overblown dance numbers – that man REALLY loves to dance, and darned if we don’t leave this movie knowing it! And beyond the titular song that everyone knows from rainy days or “A Clockwork Orange,” the film also boasts great tunes like “Make ‘Em Laugh” and “Good Morning” that will have you whistling for days.
While the pleasures that exist within the frames of “Singin’ in the Rain” have made it an endearing audience favorite for years, it remains thematically relevant because it speaks to the common fear of technology displacing us. With 3D, video-on-demand, and streaming services bringing about a new sea change in moviemaking, Kelly’s film speaks loudly to filmmakers past, present, and future. As A.O. Scott so perfectly put it in his piece ”Film Technology Advances, Inspiring a Sense of Loss” back in November 2011:
“The birth of the talkies, it goes without saying, represents the first death of cinema [...] The movies survived sound, just as they survived television, the VCR and every other terminal diagnosis. And they will survive the current upheavals as well. How can I be sure? Because 10, 20, or 50 years from now someone will certainly be complaining that they don’t make them like they used to. Which is to say, like they do right now.”

Much of the U.S. racial history that I learned as a kid in school could be summed up with this sentence: “Then Martin Luther King had a dream, he made the civil rights movement happen, and suddenly everyone could go to school together and racism wasn’t a problem anymore.”
So now to the main point of discussion, the 1967 film “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” Stanley Kramer’s film was nominated for 10 Academy Awards in a legendary year for cinema, winning a third Best Actress trophy for Katharine Hepburn and another trophy for Best Original Screenplay. The film deals with one question: is it actually acceptable for Joey, an upper-class white woman (Katharine Houghton), to marry John Prentice, a black man (Sidney Poitier) even if he is extremely well-off and accomplished?
As I talked about in my “Weekend Update” column two weeks ago, comedy with lasting cultural value is few and far between at the movies nowadays. The genre has become heavily manufactured, producing standard-order products that entertain at the most basic level to turn a quick profit. Ben Fritz of
The key is this, in my opinion: it’s all in the nuances. Humor calibrated to please the culture of its time will rise and fade like a setting sun; take for instance 1973′s “Blazing Saddles.” Yes, it’s absolutely a riot, but a scene of flatulence which was shocking then is now commonplace and incredibly tame compared to the nonstop easy scatological humor that Hollywood comedians insist on throwing at us like we’re nine years old. (Looking at you, Happy Madison.)

Looking back in hindsight, it’s easy to see that McCarthyism is a stain on our history and anyone in 2011 would stand up to such violations of civil rights. But with McCarthy at the height of his power at the time of the movie’s release, it was certainly easier said than done. Kane embodies the spirit of the times – a man who wants to protect the livelihood of his fellow townspeople but cannot get them to stop cowering in fear. As the saying goes, freedom doesn’t come free, and Kane is the only one who seems to understand that.
(This post first appeared as part of
The movie follows two storylines: the tenacious Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) transfers to Hawaii after missing out on an unfair promotion. He was once a prized boxer and finds himself being hazed by his comrades to join their ranks, authorized from high-ranking officers. To cope, he befriends Maggio (Frank Sinatra) and romances Lorene (Donna Reed). Meanwhile, his superior, First Sgt. Milton Warden (Burt Lancaster), begins an affair with the captain’s wife (Deborah Kerr) that gave us one of the most iconic love scenes ever shot. So iconic, in fact, that it had to parodied in “Shrek 2.”

What comes out of the ballet is more than just praise for Victoria and Craster; the two fall madly in love. The business-focused Lermontov sees their affair as a distraction to Victoria’s dancing, claiming that she can never reach her full potential if love holds her down. He fires Craster only to have Victoria walk out on the company. She’s happy in marriage yet still longs to dance “The Red Shoes” again, never finding the satisfaction in other ballets that she found in that role. But since Lermontov owns the rights, she’s forced to make a clear-cut decision of love or career with heartbreaking implications.
There’s an immediate resonance for any teenager who watches “Rebel Without a Cause” as youth rebellion feels eerily reminiscent to anyone experiencing it no matter how dated the story. Sure, certain rituals have become obsolete and various practices have become laughably obscure. The entire nature of being a teenager has changed dramatically even over the past decade, not to mention 55 years. But the very fact that this movie can communicate its message in spite of the generational disparity really does stand substantiate the case that “Rebel Without a Cause” is a classic.
Rosebud.
It’s a great sign of a movie’s longevity when it can be compared to something as modern as Facebook seven decades after its release, but “Citizen Kane” did more for movies than offer up thematic depth. The movie was a watershed event in the development of the craft of cinema for decades to come. It’s easy to look at the movie and notice nothing, but I had heard that the movie was a true revolution, so I looked deeper. Since I can count the number of movies I have seen from before 1941 on one hand, I went to my good friend the Internet to find out the changes.
I can definitely feel a sense of overarching purpose in both the works of Nolan and Kubrick. The former, however, is much more forward while the latter is more subtle, really requiring us to trust in his directorial abilities. In 2010, a time where Kubrick has been given God-like status among filmmakers, it’s very easy to do that. But in 1968, I can imagine I might have been a little more skeptical.
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