SHERMAN'S MARCH (1986)

When the dastardly General William Tecumseh Sherman cut his destructive path during the War of Northern Aggression through Atlanta, Savannah and the Carolinas he left in his wake…a guy trying to find a date about a hundred years later.

I didn’t know what to make of this documentary at first. Ross McElwee starts out trying to study Sherman’s March, but digresses most of the movie meeting women he knew before, women he dated before, women he wanted to date before and women he never met before. The subtitle A Meditation on the Possibility of Romantic Love In the South During an Era of Nuclear Weapons Proliferation is really closer to the mark than the main one.

Despite a slow beginning, I became interested in his journey and the various women he meets. And at 155 minutes, it’s a journey that took only slightly less time than Sherman’s actual march to the sea.

Here are some of the women he encounters listed here for no other reason than because I feel like listing them.

Mary, a childhood friend who now (now being 1986) models and fantasizes about Christopher Reeve. Pretty in a mannered, wholesome way, Mary is divorced, yet doesn’t believe in divorce. Sounds problmatic for future relationships.

Pat, wants to find work as an actress. She likes to talk about not wearing underpants and does odd gyrations that she describes as “cellulite excericses.” Ross describes his attraction to Pat as “primal,” which most of the male viewers of this film will probably share. However, right when Pat is the center of this film as herself, she leaves town in the off chance to be in a Burt Reynolds film. Leave one of the 1001 movies you must see before you die to be in Cannonball Run 17? Bad career move, Pat.

Claudia, is pretty, seems nice. Problem with Claudia is her settlement “friends.” Let’s just say that a relationship with Claudia would probably end with a hostage situation and ATF officers. Ross did well to move on here.

Winnie seems to have it all. Sexy, back to nature, likes to sunbathe nude, can milk a cow and is working on a P.H.D. in linguistics. She might be worth fighting the mosquitos for, but if I remember right, she was committed to someone else. Sorry, Ross.

Then there’s Jackie, who Ross dated before. Cute, petite, committed peace activist, teacher. Jackie thinks that a politcal ally is more important than a lover. You must have hurt her Ross. Move on you cad!

Then Ross runs into a Burt Reynolds lookalike who is trying to become Burt Reynolds's double? Enough references to Burt Reynolds, already!

Then we meet the woman who can only be described as a force of nature, Charleen. Charleen is Ross’ ex-teacher who knows she has found the right girl for Ross. It seems Ross is failing in his love life and Charleen feels the need to take over for him. And I mean take over! Despite her pushiness, Charleen’s southern charm makes her likeable.

Unfortuneately, Dee, the woman Charleen trys to get Ross to marry is a little on the bland side. Sweet, nice. Looking for a Mormon. Ross isn’t a Mormon. Relationship over.

Then there’s Joy the rock singer who is about to move away from the Carolinas to seek fame in New York. (What’s wrong with just rocking out at the Charlotte 7-11?) Ross admits to becoming an instant groupie for her and she does have that cute flippy 80’s hair, but a future failed attempt at fame in the Big Apple awaits and they say their goodbyes.

Finally, Karen. The unobtainable girl from high school with the killer smile who has since become a lawyer still has Ross’s number. Ross tries to talk her into falling in love with him, but she is in love with a guy who I’m sure doesn’t treat her as well as he should. Ross actually spends a couple of days with her boyfriend and a couple of his friends. They move giant plastic dinosaurs from place to place. Ross says he never understands what it was all about. All I know, if I were moving giant plastic dinosaurs all over the place, I’d say, “What the hell is this all about?”

Then Ross sees a movie being made. He tries to film the cast and crew. It’s a movie with, oh no, Burt Reynolds again! Ross is kicked off the set and threatened with arrest. A woman Ross interviews shows a sleeping baby that was kissed by Burt. The woman says about the baby, “She will know. She must know the truth about the day she was kissed by a guy in a toupee who played Dan August on TV.” (Quote not exact)

Ross later found a wife, teaches at Harvard and hopefully has lived happily since.

THE SEVENTH SEAL (1957, SWEDEN)

Warning: If you take a college film class you will probably have to see this film.

Second Warning: Do not confuse with the Demi Moore 80's film The Seventh Sign

Some have said that it is a useful (I think it was critic David Denby) to view classics at different times in your life and though the work remains the same, how it affects you differs according to the stage of your life in which you view it. (See or read it as a whining-school boy, then when you are bearded like a pard and then when you are wearing pantaloons and pouchy…I think my all the world’s a stage speech might be a little off.)

I’ve seen The Seventh Seal (Det sjunde inseglet) three times now, in my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s. It absolutely blew me away on my first viewing. The second time I saw it, I still thought it was a good film, but not as great as I thought it was initially. This latest viewing, made me think I was right the first time. (Perhaps on my second viewing I had a cold or something.)

Not only is this a movie you should see before you die, I think if you could time it right, this should be the movie you see ON the day you die. (Well, you come up with something more appropriate!)

A brief response to criticism of Bergman

He’s too depressing
There’s much heroism in this film that makes me feel better about the human animal. Besides, you try make a movie set during the Bubonic Plague or the Crusades and see how happy YOU can make it.

He has no sense of humor
The scene where death cuts the performer down from the tree is funny. Also, the knight’s squire and the acting troop performers are very funny. The dumb blacksmith is very, very funny. Give me a minute and I'll come up with a part that's very, very, very funny. What do you want? 1349: The Musical?

His films are boring
I don’t find him boring (Okay, not the greatest of comebacks. Deal with it.)

He's pretentious
Maybe a little.

I wanted to list some of the standout actors in this film and I really feel like listing the entire cast, so just go to IMDB and read the entire cast list for Det sjunde inseglet. I envision them forming a human chain with death leading the way and taking their bows along the way to a thunderous ovation. Well, I’ll list one personal favorite: Gunnar Björnstrand.

I meant to end this blog, but I had to mention what a great scene the procession of sinners and monks who are lashing each other for the sins they committed is.

And...the scene where the devout knight Antonius and secular squire Jons view the buring of the witch from different perspectives.

And...don't forget the scene where most of the cast is introducing themselves so casually to death.

It is finished.

PI (1998)

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TAKEN (2008)

As the lights came up in the movie theater, I found myself unable to raise my head out of my hands. The world had become a still and cold place. I finally forced myself upright in the hope to get some commiseration from the person in the seat to my right. But this person was actually smiling! The man in the seat to my left was shaking his head. But it wasn’t in sorrow. He even high-fived the teenager in the seat next to him. At that point, the audience burst into applause. I looked around the theater in amazement. Had the world gone mad? Was this Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Or could I have somehow entered The Twilight Zone?

I ran out of the theater past the concession stands and leaned against the glass door next to the box office. I picked up a stray newspaper that contained blurbs raving about the film. “A briskly paced action thriller,” “Liam Neeson has never been better,” “The best action film of the year,” were the first three headings. I crumpled it and cast it aside.

The fogginess that had infiltrated my thoughts began to turn to anger.
A couple walked up to me and said, “Hey, you were in the theater with us. Wasn’t Taken the most awesome movie you ever saw?” Their timing was bad, because I was no longer able to just nod, smile or blow them off. I tilted my head and glared at them. “Of course.” I shouted. The tone of my voice made them jump back. “Yes, I like a movie with a plot that is basically ‘I told you not to go to stay in an expensive part of Paris, you might get abducted in broad daylight. And I told you there might be Albanian slave traders there, but it's lucky you're on the phone with me right now and I just happen to know everything about international crime and espionage and you are at an isolated place in the adjoing yet accessible suite to where you are staying so the kidnappers can't see you but you can see them through a window abducting your friend so when they come get you all you have to do is yell out a description of them as soon as they take you and I'll piece it all together and kill off half of Europe to save you.’ And no, no that didn’t at all obliterate my suspension of disbelief. Not at all!"

The couple had actually walked away before I was halfway done with my speech, but I was going to shout it aloud for anyone who wished to listen. I saw the next line of customers waiting to go into the next showing. I tried to will them to see the mistake they were making, but they mostly ignored me and when they did acknowledge me, only viewed me with hostility.

My head started to throb again and I knew I couldn’t stay there any longer. I ran across the parking lot into a neighboring park. I saw a bench by a fountain and sat. My solitude gave me a little comfort as I took a deep breath. I tilted back my head and tried to continue to forget about the horror of the last couple of hours as I heard a voice calling my name.

“Chris!” I heard a second time.

I had thought the park was empty. I stood up. “Who’s there? What do you want?”

I followed the voice past the swing sets to the baseball field. There he stood at second base.

“Liam Neeson!” I said in a strained voice.

“My friend.” He cocked his head in discomfort as he spoke. “Why couldn’t you just enjoy the movie like everyone else? It would have been so easy for you to be like the rest.”

“Because” I said to him defiantly. “It wasn’t a movie. It was just one long stunt show. Offensively outlandish! Just an excuse to shoot something or blow something up. As unrealistic action movies go, It made Con Air look like My Dinner With Andre!”

Liam twitched. “I’m real sorry to hear that.”

It was then I noticed that he was holding an Uzi that was pointed at me. I looked around for a means to escape, but I didn’t think I would ever make it to safety before he could plow me down. He cocked his head again and part of his cheek began splitting apart.

“Oh, the hell with it.” Liam put his finger inside the opening in his cheek and pulled. Much to my horror, his face came apart with one pull.
I was in such a state of shock that I missed perhaps my only opportunity to get away. I looked back at the face. It wasn’t Liam Neeson. It was…

“George Lucas!” I gasped in fear. “I didn’t know you had anything to do with this movie!”

He laughed. “You are so naïve. Don’t you see I am the father of all such movies. I started it all. Well, I did have a little help.”

At that point, another figure came out of the dugout holding an AK-47.

“Steven Spielberg!” I gasped again.

Spielberg walked toward Lucas and they pointed their weapons at my head. “Yes, and you are going to add the film you just saw to your blog and give it a rave review.

“Never!” I said.

“Oh, did I forget to mention.” Lucas said. “It’s already too late.”

At this point, Spielberg pulled a laptop seemingly out of his bum and dropped it in front of me. The Internet page that was in front of me was indeed my blogsite and the movie entry read Taken (2008).”

“This…this isn’t right. I would never put this movie on my blog. Some hacker...”

“Quiet” they said in unison.

“None of this matters.” Lucas continued. “You won’t get out of this alive. Ironically, if the world was like it was in a typical action film, you might be able to manufacture an unlikely escape. Too bad this is the real world and you are certain to die. Goodbye, Mr. Chips.”

I closed my eyes in resignation, taking some comfort in the fact that the last thing I would ever hear was a reference to a good movie. It was then I heard shots ringing out in a crossfire. I checked my body for holes as I opened my eyes.

I was unharmed!

I saw before me Lucas and Spielberg lying dead on the ground with their weapons unfired.

At that point, two men entered the baseball diamond. One from the first base side and one from the third base side. The figure that came from first base was holding a Mannlicher-Carcano rifle and as he approached, my heart raced in recognition.

“Oh, my God. Color of Pomegranates director Serghei Paradjonov!”

He nodded in affirmation to me.

From third base came the second figure, who was carrying a Derringer pistol.
“And you’re Last Year at Marienband director Alan Resnias.” I said.

“Oui.” he said.

“We almost didn’t get here in time.” Paradjonov said in broken English as he dropped his gun down.

I dropped to my knees and contemplated the fallen bodies in front of me. I looked at Paradjonov and Resnais. “I don’t know how to thank you. I feel so ashamed. I made fun of your movies on my blog.”

“I know.” The Aremenian director said. “But I think you’re learning. You may one day learn the difference between art and commerce.

“Oui.” Resnais added.

I looked at them again. “But aren’t you dead? I asked.

Paradjonov laughed. “I think you still have to learn the lesson that art endures…and lives on past its creator.”

“Oui.” Resnais said again before he and Paradjonov disappeared into the night.

I easily managed to raise my head out of my hands. The world remained a still and cold place, but that was no longer a problem. I looked for some commiseration from the person to my right, but the fact that I received none no longer bothered me.