Month: June 2020

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is a 1974 movie written and directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul tells the story of Emmi, a widowed house cleaner and Ali, a Morrocan immigrant mechanic, who meet and fall in love. Both characters are essentially isolated, lonely people who form an unusual bond. They find comfort in each other, but quickly realize that their family, friends and neighbors are hostile towards their intentions. These external pressures begin to crater the relationship.

The legend of Fassbinder is that he lived a fast life, died young and created an unparalleled body of work. The volume of movies he directed – some 40 over the span of 15 years – is astonishing. In Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, it’s easy to grasp how he accomplished such a feat. This a precise, effective story about loneliness and perception. The scenes are simple, but contain a density of emotion: the settings are sparse and dialogue purposeful, which effectively illustrates his characters’ anxiety.

There’s little wasted motion as Fassbinder introduces his leads and propels them into a meaningful union. Emmi enters a bar to get out of the rain – she’s aged and carries a worn appearance. Ali is presented as a hulking, stoic figure – he’s drinking with his “Arab buddies”, something he does every night. The clash of backgrounds creates a striking mood of suspicion, something Fassbinder expertly frames with his long, meditative shots.

Ali asks Emmi to dance with her, then offers to walk her home. The scene in her apartment lobby is fascinating. She is both afraid of Ali and endlessly intrigued by him. She comments on his clothes, suggesting that “dark clothes look sad.” Her own sadness is apparent – “it’s good to talk to somebody. I’m so lonely. All the time, really.” He is invited up for brandy and later spends the night. Ali’s own anxiety – a central theme of the movie – is apparent as he cannot sleep and comes to Emmi’s bedroom.

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Massacre: Mafia Style

Massacre: Mafia Style, aka The Executioner is a 1974 movie written and directed by Duke Mitchell.

Massacre: Mafia Style tells the story of Mimi Miceli, Jr., the son of an exiled Mafia Don. Mimi leaves Sicily and heads to Hollywood, where he attempts to take over the city’s organized crime activity. With the help of his partner, Jolly, Mimi succeeds in decimating both high ranking Mafia members and a successful street pimp. Mimi later returns home to Sicily where he faces the reckoning of his actions.

For those of you who like to get to the point, here’s a quick review: Duke Mitchell tries to make his version of The Godfather.

Or at least he wanted to make a grittier, more authentic version of The Godfather. Growing up around the Mafia and hearing their tales as a lounge singer, Mitchell decided Coppola’s epic was closer to Hollywood than the streets he knew. Rejecting the movie’s themes of honor and family, Mitchell produces a truly unique, if not conflicted vision.

Massacre: Mafia Style is perhaps best known for its opening scene, where Mimi and his longtime friend Jolly (Vic Caesar) shoot up an office. The production is sparse and the overacting abundant but you can immediately sense Mitchell’s DIY ethos – he’s the writer, director, lead actor and his way too catchy Italian wedding crooning serenades this cinematic bloodbath.

Legend is Mitchell culled a lifetime of stories told to him by Mafia types to create his work. At times, Massacre: Mafia Style feels like a collection of these greatest hits – literally. We see toilet electrocutions, hangings, a meat hook through an eye, a funeral bomb and an elaborate crucifixion. The effects of these techniques – the staging of blood and makeup – on Mimi’s various victims is highly stylized and visually impressive.

However, the action of the murder scenes is a different story.

Mitchell and Caesar are essentially two lounge singers trying to make a movie – and it shows. Each are charismatic but their acting contributions consist of walking, shooting and delivering long-winded monologues. The shooting scenes are clumsy and strangely edited and Mitchell’s pivotal fight scene is embarrassing. Throughout the movie, victims are either comatose in their responses or wildly overreaching.

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Navajo Joe and The Mercenary

Navajo Joe (1966) and The Mercenary (1968) are each Italian Westerns directed by Sergio Corbucci and scored by Ennio Morricone.

Sergio Corbucci is often referred to as “the other Sergio” when movie folk discuss Italian Westerns. He is certainly less famous and commercially, his movies can’t rival Sergio Leone in terms of revenue and prestige.

However, while Leone makes epics – Corbucci makes unique, stylized, enjoyable Westerns – several of which are likely unappreciated. While Django and The Great Silence have recently earned a reputation for their gritty, dark quality, Navajo Joe and The Mercenary are two of his best – or at least, most entertaining movies.

Besides Corbucci’s direction, the common link between the two movies are the outstanding scores created by Ennio Morricone.

If you enjoyed Kill Bill, Volume 2, you’re in for a treat.

The Mercenary tells the story of Sergei “Polack” Kowalski, a hired gun whose robberies lead to a revolution against Mexican authorities. Kowalski makes a series of deals with Paco, a silver mine worker, and the pair steal money and weapons from the Mexican Army. Throughout their adventures, they are tracked by Curly, an American mercenary. In the process, Paco becomes a famed revolutionary.

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Aguirre, the Wrath of God

Aguirre, the Wrath of God is a 1972 movie directed by Werner Herzog and starring Klaus Kinski.

Aguirre, the Wrath of God tells the story of Spanish conquistadores searching for the mythical El Dorado in Peru. Crossing the Amazon, the expedition struggles to survive against brutal conditions and hostile natives. Klaus Kinski plays Don Lope de Aguirre, who seizes control of the expedition and leads the group into chaos.

There’s a great chance Kinski is completely miscast as a 16th century Spanish conquistador. He’s slight, wobbly kneed and his kettle helmet barely conceals cascading dirty blonde hair. He’s an art school German out of place in the jungle playing a Spaniard.

Yet, in a Werner Herzog production – one that cannot help blurring the line between fiction and documentary – Kinski is the perfect choice to play Aguirre, a man bent on capturing the illusion of greatness regardless of the human cost.

Further, it takes a performance as outlandish as Kinski gives to honor the spectacle of Herzog’s vision.

The opening scene is majestic. Drifting clouds settle to reveal the enormity of the Andes Mountains before tiny specks come into surface. Herzog’s troupe are trekking down a dangerous slope into the Amazon jungle, hauling along a horse, pigs, chickens, and a cannon. Struggle marks the actors’ eyes as they have become fully immersed outsiders – even the natives are hesitant to find their footing in the treacherous terrain.

Herzog’s crew are essentially conquistadors. We have scripted dialogue to remind us otherwise, but the first portion of the movie feels more like a documentary. A basket of chickens tumbles from a cliff, a rider almost gets hung up on a crooked branch, actors swat away bugs. It’s a dangerous and brutally unfair journey.

The plot develops around the expedition’s leader Pizarro deciding to divide the group and find resources before going further into the unknown. He leaves the nobleman Ursua as his second in command. One of the rafts gets stuck in the eddy and the men are ambushed. Suddenly, the ranks are thin and plotting begins. It doesn’t take long for Aguirre to overthrow the rule of Ursua.

As Aguirre becomes the defacto fictional leader of the expedition, Kinski begins to personify the character. He’s going to battle with his cast mates. As the natives struggle to steady the sedan carrying Ursua’s mistress and Aguirre’s daughter, Kinski manhandles them, grabbing and prodding – berating them for their stumbles. Moments before Ursua is overthrown, Aguirre winds among the soldiers, clutching and pulling them into him – urging them to join his treason.

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Django Kill, If You Live, Shoot!

Django Kill, If You Live, Shoot! is a 1967 Italian Western directed by Guilio Questi.

Tomas Milian’s Django is betrayed by his gang following a robbery and left for dead. He recovers and becomes entangled in a bloody battle for gold between corrupt townspeople and a homosexual gang. The movie is wildly unique for its genre, as it presents a surreal Old West landscape that is layered in contemporary references.

Django Kill features a conventional Western story: a mysterious stranger comes to town and finds himself in the middle of a battle between locals and outside forces. Gold and greed are at the heart of the issue and the hero encounters an emotionally wounded love interest.

The presentation beyond the story is what makes Django Kill a fascinating movie.

The lead character, Django, is cast throughout the movie in soft light – almost in a nod to his feminine facial features. His outfit of an unbuttoned leather vest, oversized medallion and headband is decidedly atypical for Western leading men. Similarly, his actions stray from the rugged determinism that defines the genre. He’s bold and physical, yet oddly passive – as highlighted during his capture by “the Muchachos”, an outlaw gang of homosexual cowboys.

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Breathless and Un Flic

Breathless is Jean-Luc Godard’s first feature movie. Un Flic is Jean-Pierre Melville’s final movie. Both directors are considered essential figures in French New Wave Cinema.

Breathless is to 1960’s French culture what Pulp Fiction was to its 1990’s American counterpart – a purely original work that both reinterpreted and reinvented movies. Each work represents a complete shift in how people made, watched and thought about movies. Both Godard and Tarantino present stories about crimes and gangsters, but each movie lifts the cultural subtext around them into its own powerful narrative form. There is a linear jump from Jean-Paul Belmondo’s Michel imitating a gangster to Samuel Jackson and John Travolta discussing foot rubs.

While there were occasional surprises in the years before Breathless and Pulp Fiction, nothing represented the jolt of energy these movies produced. Even 60 and 30 years later respectively, the two works remain relevant, instantly re-watchable and endlessly copied.

Breathless tells the story of Michel, a small-time crook who impulsively kills a French policeman. He is pursued by French authorities – along the way, he tries to convince American student Patricia to run away with him to Italy. The plot is nearly superfluous, as Godard focuses on the existential roles his lead characters assume. Patricia is sent to Paris by her parents to attend the Sorbonne – she wants to be independent, Michel is a wanted criminal – he wants to be Humphrey Bogart.

At its core, Breathless is a story about youth. Michel and Patricia are vibrant and driven by pure energy: Patricia’s thoughts form a lyric stream of consciousness, Michel is always moving and laser focused on his goals – getting his money and trying to sleep with Patricia. Each is focused on the moment in front of them and the electric vibe of Paris seems to reflect this.

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Rashomon and Sanjuro

Rashomon (1950) and Sanjuro (1962) are movies directed by Akiro Kurosawa. Each work focuses on the idea of perspective and features legendary actor Toshiro Mifune.

Sanjuro tells the story of an aging, wandering Samurai who encounters a group of warriors trying to rid their clan of corruption. The warriors are skeptical of Sanjuro’s appearance and unorthodox actions but come to rely on him in their quest. Rashomon tells the story of a murder in the forest from four different perspectives. Each version of the story adds different layers to the events and exposes its participants’ basic human flaws.

Mifune is dynamic in each movie. He plays the title role of Sanjuro as an aloof, almost bored outsider – his years of experience have cultivated a zen-like ease and wisdom that stands as a fun contrast to the young warriors’ impulsiveness. His appearance is unkempt and tattered and he clearly doesn’t fit the classic Samurai archetype.

The role features both comedic and physical elements: Mifune’s Sanjuro is constantly in search of a nap and something to eat. He is continually yawning and scratching at his beard while his group of proteges eagerly await his direction. Their movements are dictated by his actions. As the story progresses, the warriors form a plan and spring into action. Sanjuro calmly offers his advice and the group again orbits around him.

Physically, Mifune presents as a skilled Samurai. His economy of words and action translates to battle scenes, where nothing is wasted. He is a presence both in terms of size and strength – his movements are efficient and clearly more measured than his opponents. Here, his weathered look adds another layer to the character – he knows the impact of his sword and the lingering effects it creates. He will continue to carry this baggage and warns the others not to follow him.

There is a clear Western quality to Sanjuro. Mifune’s reserved energy, pace and idiomatic expressions – “a stupid man’s sword is deadlier than an enemy” is a throwback to Gary Cooper and John Wayne. The long pauses that preface the battle scenes are remnants of classic 1950’s American Westerns and previews of the exaggerations later found in Italian versions. The above scene in particular is reminiscent of the final stand off in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. The lead-up feels endless while the payoff battle is brief and ferocious.

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The Tarantino Influences: The Rankings

The goal of this Tarantino project is to explore the movies that inspired the director. What I quickly realized is that this project could be infinite – given that thousands of movie references color Tarantino’s works. I’m stopping at 15 direct influences – fully knowing that these movies may not even be the best representations. Kill Bill alone likely features over 30 kung fu movie influences.

I think at the least, I represented enough different genres to make the project meaningful.

More importantly, I’m excited that these movies will naturally lead to further discoveries. For instance, I was not a huge fan of Branded to Kill – but I do want to explore more Japanese New Wave movies. Likewise, after watching The Great Silence and Django, I’m fully invested in Spaghetti Westerns. The next phase of this project will ultimately lead to a new writer/director, but for now I want to chase down the movies, directors, actors and genres that stem from this original group.

As for this collection of movies, here are my ratings – which again are based on my own preferences and personal enjoyment. I take into account technical aspects but I am unqualified to judge such things. But I also know that Kowalski is the most boring anti-hero in movie history and the Ecstasy of Gold scene is exhilarating. All fifteen of these movies offer something exceptional and likely shaped some small part of a Tarantino movie.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly – 4.5/5

Band of Outsiders – 4.5/5

These are two movies that essentially changed movies. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly was the best of a classic Sergio Leone series that proved the traditional American Western could be revitalized under a European lens. Yet in doing so, the movie created an American icon in Clint Eastwood and probably the most copied movie of its genre and time. Leone creates a beautiful, expansive atmosphere to drop his classic, archetypal characters into and they represent a struggle for morality that is brilliant and layered.

Band of Outsiders continues the guerrilla, self-referential ethos Jean-Luc Godard established with 1960’s Breathless. Godard’s story of would be teenage robbers is both an inventive homage to American crime movies and photograph of the existential confusion of youth. It’s a tongue in cheek critique of the narrative form, which gives us beautifully odd sequences such as the dance scene, moment of silence and running through the Louvre.

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The Tarantino Influences: Django

Django is a 1966 movie directed by Sergio Corbucci. The music, themes and style were inspirations on Tarantino’s Django Unchained, Hateful Eight, Reservoir Dogs and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.

Django tells the story of a mysterious drifter who drags a coffin through town and ends up in the middle of a bloody feud between Southern confederates and Mexican revolutionaries. He battles both groups, using his secret weapon of destruction. Along the way, Django rescues a prostitute and attempts to leave with a bounty of gold.

The main influence on Tarantino can be found in the most glorious theme song of all time.

Behold the grandeur….

Django has a lot going for it but this introduction is the clear high point of the movie. The song is hypnotic – it’s a grand, soaring, even powerful presentation of a mysterious drifter dragging a coffin through mud. Take the song away and you still have an intriguing visual but it loses its potent flavor. This theme is strictly reserved for a dynamic hero – which defines Django for most of the movie.

Tarantino borrows the theme song and gives it to his Django, who proves to be a more worthy hero than the original. We also see the great lettering and font in Tarantino’s version and clearly there is an homage to mud. Of course, mud isn’t exclusive to either movie – but in Django, its presence fills the background similar to snow drifts in other spaghetti Westerns.

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The Tarantino Influences: Rolling Thunder

Rolling Thunder is a 1977 movie directed by John Flynn. Known as one of Tarantino’s favorite movies, its theme of retribution and stylized violence could have been influences on Kill Bill and Pulp Fiction.

Rolling Thunder tells the story of Major Charles Rane, a Vietnam veteran returning home after being a prisoner of war. Rane struggles to assimilate back into civilian life, before his wife and son are killed in a home invasion. This tragic event leads Rane to seek justice on the thugs responsible for the murders.

It’s difficult to classify Rolling Thunder as a particular type of movie. A case could be made that it’s an exploitation movie or at the least, a loose version of a road movie. It’s definitely a revenge movie and it’s violent. Yet, Rolling Thunder takes on that gritty, 1970’s sensibility where the story is allowed the space to breathe. We learn about the characters and their baggage – their personal futility is captured far before the chaotic final shootout, which ultimately defines the movie.

The layers found in Rolling Thunder likely inspired Tarantino – along with other writer/directors. It’s a heavy movie featuring a main character who is emotionally broken after suffering years of torture. It’s a tragic story, yet the bad guys who propel Rane to act are outlandishly bad – almost to the point of being unrealistic and cartoonish. There’s a love interest that never materializes, subtle statements made about patriotism and quirky, offhanded humor found throughout.

There’s a gimmick in Rane using his hook hand to cause havoc, yet Rolling Thunder is a unique mix of heart and action. It’s tempting to separate these characteristics to make an easier movie – but combined they form an intriguing creation.

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