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I grew up in rural Canada, in a small middle-class household that was a
little bit on the old-fashioned side. Dramas like these were part of
the experience when all you had was access to CBC television and a
small selection of video tapes. Although I never caught this one in
particular as a child, it would have been perfectly welcome.
It's hard to picture why exactly a film like "Why Shoot the Teacher?" has been so well-forgotten over the years. Something in the lack of initial distribution no doubt, which seems to be the lot of nearly all Canadian films of this era. It's based on a book by Max Braithwaite, and it feels very much like a true story, though there's a chance I suppose that it isn't. Silvio Narizzano directs it to life with a looseness and a real live humanity.
The acting is undoubtedly what gives this film its energy, and Bud Cort is better than I've ever seen him. In a similar sense as Charles Martin Smith's character in "Never Cry Wolf" he portrays a truly charming combination of naiveté and forced confidence. It's that painfully forced bravery that saves him in the end. This film could serve as a lesson in how much difference overcoming even the smallest percentage of personal fears can make in your life.
There is a lightness to "Why Shoot the Teacher?", a faithful depiction with just enough weight to keep it all from blowing away. I felt it moving through me, lifting my head and softening my heart. It's something to be thankful for, this gentle little thing.
It's hard to describe the weight of silence. The early 1980s was a
strong time for that feeling on film. Frank Tidy's cinematography here
is somewhat reminiscent of what he did on Ridley Scott's "The
Duellists". It's a world were the most meaningful things seem to happen
on foggy mornings, during rain storms, and on cloudy days. It's a very
dark film, this one. Not so much for its content, but for its visuals.
It's muddy, damp, and late in the season.
The story itself is full of hope and longing. Everywhere you turn, there is sadness and joy, and the grand dark feeling of emptiness that fills a late Autumn day. Richard Farnsworth creates a character with a pained and gentle humanity. Bill Miner isn't some angry old man. He's the most calm and collected individual in any given scene. It's a depiction with far more truth and beauty than you would ever expect in the story of a train robber. Farnsworth got far too few chances at a stunning starring role, but this may be the best he ever had. He's something of a wonder to behold. Most of the other performances are adequate, but unspectacular. Jackie Burroughs stands out, though. She is deeply alive and engaged throughout.
Phillip Borsos never really got the chance to direct a film this good again, but his grasp of atmosphere turned "The Mean Season" and "Bethune" into something much better than they would have been in the hands of most. What he did here, at the age of 27, is both admirable and life-changing. The depth of understanding he displays about the human race is valuable, and I'm well-pleased to have had the chance to experience it.
"The Nickel Ride" is all about mood. There's a nearly-constant feeling
a dread in the air. From the first scene, you get the terrifying
sensation that something bad is going to happen, and that anything to
the contrary is a fleeting illusion. Cooper (played by Jason Miller) is
supposedly a guy who everyone likes, but it soon becomes clear that no
one respects him. Maybe it's because he stopped fighting a long time
ago, back when his apathy buried his anger. There's a sense of hope in
him, though, but that just makes him a target. He's in a line of work
that perceives anything but the iron fist as a sign of weakness - and
it's these desperate days that the opening scene drops us into. Out of
a nearly-waking dream, like a mirror of Miller's first film "The
Exorcist", he sees something coming that's more a thing of impeding
doom than that of direct prophecy.
It's a somewhat atypical film for director Robert Mulligan. He was more one for straightforward dramas, rarely tackling a subdued loner-driven narrative like this. This is also an early original script for Eric Roth, who is certainly treading much more uncomplicated ground than on his later stories. He's written something that can be carried completely by performances. "The Nickel Ride" doesn't reach very far, so it's not totally capable of the sort of staying power that keeps other 1970s classics in our minds. But the powerful uneasy feeling and the performance of Jason Miller makes it something special. This is a curious, angry, scared little alleycat of a film.
Stacy Keach and George C. Scott star in this very gritty, very honest
portrayal of early-70s police life. It's directed by Richard Fleischer,
who usually worked on much flashier material than this. I've seen a lot
of films that dug in and tried to paint a clear image of police life,
but this story brings a level of realism that is somewhat missing in
most cases - in was written by a cop (Joseph Wambaugh).
"The New Centurions" is a title that hints at a much deeper perspective into familiar territory. Even though all the suspected clichés are still somewhat in place, they're there out of reality rather than just filling space in a movie plot. George C. Scott's character is on his way to retirement, but instead of him not making it, he takes a much darker path. It's that darker path, and the sense of hope behind it, that informs both Scott and Keach in their fantastic performances. They're as good as they'd ever been here - deep, powerful, and incredibly personal. There's a real emotional vulnerability on display that can't be denied.
It's surprising how "Alambrista!" has slipped into near-total oblivion
after being shown at Cannes and receiving some measure of admiration
there. But it seems to have never enjoyed a release on VHS, and hasn't
appeared on DVD until quite recently. It's a shame, because this film
serves as a very piercing, close-up examination of the life of an
Robert M. Young has made a number of daring and unusual films in his career, off-center stories with characters most people wouldn't notice. In "Short Eyes" it was a young pedophile in prison, and in "Dominick and Eugene" he focused on the everyday life of a mentally retarded man. Here, he takes a deep trip into the underbelly of American society, a side most of us will never come close to seeing. "Alambrista!" is a basic tale, one that Young penned himself (it was the only film he'd ever both write and direct). It's uncomplicated, but not untrue. There's a familiar 1970s documentary approach, up close and personal, and it serves things well. Also doing his own cinematography, Young is very much in on the action.
Domingo Ambriz plays Roberto, a quiet and not entirely bright Mexican man. He's very kind, but completely innocent of cities and American life. It's a heartfelt performance, and it has to be. Everything hinges on his believability. Linda Gillen is very good as the waitress Sharon, also a rather innocent personality. The characters come almost secondary, because we don't get too far beneath their skin. This isn't an internal, mental film - it's a silent observation of things. Take a close look.
Not a lot of people have seen this one. It's like a lot of other films
about teachers in an uphill struggle against apathetic or difficult
students. They all seem to be set in inner-city environments, but
"Conrack" has a different approach - it takes you down south, out to an
isolated island just off the coast of South Carolina. It helps that
this is a true story (or as true as a film adapted from a book adapted
from real life can be).
Martin Ritt was a very good director, known mainly for "Hud", which he did about ten years prior. Jon Voight has never been more charismatic than this, he's like a shining beacon of inspiration throughout the film. You really believe that he believes every word he is saying, and that adds a ton of weight to his character. I really enjoyed Hume Cronyn here, he's somehow mischievous without being friendly, serious and a little bit mean. It's a great characterization.
The passion in Voight's sparkling eyes seems to be more than what carries the film. It's a great story, and a fantastic reflection of Pat Conroy's writing. The story is powerful, convincing, and exceptionally inspiring.
A documentary film about one of the endless and countless failed
attempts at attaining the presidency wouldn't normally catch my
attention. But I bought this one on a whim a couple years back and
finally decided to watch it today. It turns out that Shirley Chisholm
wasn't your typical politician out there vying for control of the
country. I don't mean that in the sense that she was both black and
female (though it certainly factored significantly in 1972), but in a
purely ideological respect. She didn't have much interest in the
standard nonsense, the buying and trading of votes, and totally
rejected the notion that you should support anyone but who you believed
in. In her world, there were no compromises for the greater good, there
was just the good and that's that. It's that purity of approach which
has made it impossible for anyone with a similarly deep conviction and
honesty to ever be elected to the highest American office.
From a documentary film perspective, it's the content and not the direction that makes "Chisholm '72" stand out. The approach is clean and well-researched, and everyone of importance gets their chance to speak. That doesn't necessarily give it enough strength to stand out to anyone not personally interested in the subject matter, but it was enough to draw a casual observer like myself. This film really captures Shirley Chisholm in her all her glory as the total antithesis of modern politics.
Johnny Cash never got much opportunity to prove himself as an actor,
but he always rose to the occasion when given the chance. With this
film, and "The Pride of Jesse Hallam" (1981), he was given a pair of
roles that had a depth of character he could really do something with.
"Murder in Coweta County" is certainly the better of the two. Both
films were directed by Gary Nelson. Besides Cash, there are two very
good performances in Andy Griffith and Earl Hindman. Griffith is
incredibly slimy and menacing here, playing way, way out of type. It
wasn't his style to play the bad guy, but he does it marvelously here.
The late Earl Hindman is excellent as well. Hindman was a character
actor who is both remembered and nearly forgotten for the very same
role - that of Wilson on the "Home Improvement" TV series. Remembered
for his memorable performances, forgotten because his face was always
at least partially hidden. June Carter Cash is fantastic and almost
unrecognizable as the fortune teller.
"Murder in Coweta County" is a true story, and that information driving the script forward helps it keep from dipping too far into cliché. There are elements that feel a little standard, but nothing too distracting from the drama. The characterizations get under your skin, especially Johnny Cash is what might be the best performance he ever gave. It's a great little southern police/crime movie.
Watching at old TV movie is sometimes like digging through a dead
relative's closet. There's some air of familiarity to it, memories
coming to the surface, and this odd feeling of discovery. Through the
70s and 80s, countless TV movies were filmed and aired in much the same
way as early cinema - watched once, then forgotten forever. "The Pride
of Jesse Hallam" is like something you might find in the back of a
dusty drawer. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing.
I've always liked Johnny Cash as an actor. He was never really given the chance to pursue it on a deeper level, just a handful of televised roles - most of which went widely unseen. But he's always had a very dark and mysterious persona, and makes you believe every word he says. Here, he sings several songs for the soundtrack as well - one of which (Moving Up) he wrote. It's fascinating to see Eli Wallach, playing an elderly man here (he was only 66). Interesting to note that he is still alive over thirty years later (!), nearly a decade after the death of Johnny Cash.
The storyline of "The Pride of Jesse Hallam" is fairly standard TV movie fare. There's the sick child, the troubled youth, the awkward love interest, and so forth. But it's the main issue of illiteracy that makes things somewhat more unusual. The interplay of the characters is believable, especially between Cash and Wallach. They're the backbone of this story, and everything that holds it together. As far as I know, the only edition out there is a really dirty, unrestored film transfer. Hopefully it will be released in a higher quality edition at some point. It's not a great film, but it's worth the time.
I've seen just about every film directed by Richard Pearce. There's
something in his understanding of actors that always brings out the
best in them. That's especially evident in films like "Country", "A
Family Thing" and "The Long Walk Home". It's hard to walk that thin
line between heartfelt personal stories and overwrought melodrama.
"Plainsong", however, isn't completely successful in avoiding the
latter. The story itself has a lot in common with other Hallmark films,
a way of unfolding that is a bit more predictable and/or comfortable
than you might see in an average theatrical film. The TV movie feeling
is the main, and only real thing holding "Plainsong" back.
I'd noticed America Ferrera before, like I suppose most people have. But the only thing I'd actually seen her in was her first film, "Real Women Have Curves". She's so quiet here that it's almost like she's not there at all sometimes. That's not a bad thing, it reminded me of myself for a good part of my teenage years. She gets across the lost and confused feeling so well. The most fascinating and accomplished performances are those of Geoffrey Lewis and William Andrews as the elderly farmer brothers, and Marian Seldes as the lonely shut-in. They are so real, so believable. Rachel Griffiths and Aidan Quinn, whom many will be familiar with, are actually of much lesser interest than the younger and older actors. Nonetheless, they give very good performances.
In all, "Plainsong" doesn't reach so far as it might. It stays on the outskirts of anything truly intense, but the feeling of gentle reality still bubbles to the surface. I'm truly glad I saw it, and I can't see how anyone couldn't take at least something away from the experience. I recommend that you pursue more of Richard Pearce's films.
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