The Moment that Makes Greatness

Recently I've been thinking more and more about what makes a film great? It must be more that acting, editing, cinematography, writing, scoring or any other part that when added to the sum makes up more than the whole. If it were quantifiable in technical terms then Gus Van Sant's Psycho would be as equally celebrated as Hitchcock's and it isn't, nor should it be. More than that what makes a film great to one may not make it great to another. After years online, writing about movies and discussing them in comment sections, I'm still surprised sometimes when we don't all agree on the goodness, badness or ugliness of a particular movie, as if somehow we should all know the exact markers of a great or bad film and simply check them off to know with which kind of film we're dealing.

Much of this thinking process was sped along by my friend Bill Ryan's recent post on Mulholland Dr, written and directed by David Lynch and released in 2001. That's a film I know is great but I don't know for sure if I could tell you why. In fact, for much of the film the cinematography is rather pedestrian by these eyes, doing very little of interest with interiors for example. The editing, scoring and writing are all perfectly good in an almost purposely unremarkable way. And yet, I know that this is a great movie. Not just a good one, a great one. How do I know? I don't know. But I do know when I know.



For me, I often have moments when I know a movie is great and for Mulholland Dr it's when Rebekah Del Rio takes the stage at the Club Silencio, a full hour and 49 minutes into the movie, and performs "Crying" ("Llorando") in Spanish. Why does that moment signal the turn for me? I have no idea, I just know that it does. The entire Club Silencio sequence has a quiet beauty for me that very few movies achieve and when Del Rio is on stage I can feel an emotional pull that feels real but seems inexplicable. And how many movies, really, how many, can keep you interested and even deeply involved for almost two hours and then, THEN(!), at the time when most movies would be winding down, ramp everything up to a fever pitch that makes you, the viewer, feel like you've just been given a shot of adrenalin directly into the heart?

That's what Mulholland Dr does to me but there are so many movies that give me that "great" moment. Here are just five from a list of hundreds:

The Bridge on the River Kwai: This moment's a bit obvious and clearly intended to be a "comes the dawn" moment for the viewer but still it ropes me in every time. It's the moment just before the intermission when Colonel Nicholson is informed that the wood they're using has been known to last for 600 years and his eyes widen as he whispers in amazement, "600 years?" He's gone and now you know it. It chills me every time and takes the movie from excellent to great.

Dodsworth: Some movies hold out until the very last second and Dodsworth is one of them. I find the whole movie terrific but it's that moment, that scene on the ocean liner, almost at the very end of the movie that does it for me, that transforms it from good relationship drama to great relationship drama. [SPOILER]In the penultimate scene, as Dodsworth (Walter Huston) is on board, returning to the states with his wife (Ruth Chatterton) even though he's in love with another woman (Mary Astor) and this is 1936 and you know, just know, that this is how the production code dictates it must end, suddenly Dodsworth stands up, essentially says, "To hell with this and you and all your phoniness" and leaves to go to Mary Astor. What an ending. [END SPOILER]

The Earrings of Madame de...: The movie's initial set-up plays like a farce. Earrings are sold, re-bought by the husband, given to mistresses, lost in casinos and so on until our lovely lead, the Comtesse Louise, played by Danielle Darrieux, meets and falls in love with the Baron Fabrizio Donati, played by Vittorio De Sica. And then they dance, and dance, and dance. And when that dance scene happens, that takes us through the opening whispers of their love, as they dance until the band stops playing, that's when it becomes great.

The Third Man: Another obvious moment but still, I can't deny it. It occurs when Holly (Joseph Cotten) is stumbling drunk into the street from Anna's (Alida Valli) apartment and spies none other than Harry Lime (Orson Welles) in the doorway across the street. The same Harry Lime that, up to now, was supposed to be dead.

Stroszek: I highlighted this sequence a while back at Unexplained Cinema and it remains for me the greatest moment in the whole movie but, also, the moment that tips the movie over the edge from fascinating and bizarre study to greatness. Bruno Stroszek (Bruno S.) stands motionless as his home abandons him and exits stage left (house right).

I could keep going and, in fact, so many scenes in movies that are celebrated in movies are celebrated for the very fact that they often are the moment the movie transcends expected standards and moves into the area of greatness ("We're going to need a bigger boat" from Jaws being an easy example) but it's more interesting when, as in Mulholland Dr., you're not really sure why a moment takes you to the next level, it just does and when it happens, it can be exhilirating.

You're Just a Little Mixed Up

Fox: [referring to the subjects of Jonathan's critiques] Have you ever seen any of your victims?

Jonathan: Victims? Don't be melodramatic. Look at the DVD playing on the monitor. Tell me Fox. Would you really feel any pity if one of those pixels stopped moving forever? If I offered you twenty thousand Euros for every pixel that stopped, would you really, old man, tell me to keep my money, or would you calculate how many pixels you could afford to spare? Free of income tax, old man. Free of income tax - the only way you can save money nowadays.

Fox, you're just a little mixed up about things. ...in general. Nobody thinks in terms of human beings. Film critics don't, so why should we? They talk about the actors, and the characters... I talk about the suckers and the mugs... It's the same thing. They have their top ten-film plan, and so have I. Don't be so gloomy. After all it's not that awful. Like the fella says, in America for 10 years under the blogs they had flame wars, comment spam, hacking, and Windows Vista, but they produced Dennis Cozzalio, dissent and discussion, TOERIFC and the Movie Blogaissance. In the 90s they had web sites - they had 8 years of consensus and agreement and no comment sections, and what did that produce? Harry Knowles. So long Fox.

I Got the Music in Me - Intermission

Carol Reed supervises Anton Karas who provided the entire musical score for the film, The Third Man, with this one instrument, the zither.

The "Harry Lime Theme" sold over half a million copies in its first month and made Karas a star but alas, his popularity was not to last. He was unpopular in his home of Vienna because he had gained his success with a film that portrayed a defeated, divided Vienna. Geez. And every follow-up he did essentially flopped. But he had that one song and it was enough that he could retire a millionaire. If you'd like to read up on the whole story of Karas and how Reed stumbled across him here's a nice bio from allmusic.com.

*****

This post was originally run in August of last year but for those who didn't see it then I figured now was as good a time as any to run it again.

Oscar Snubs: Joseph Cotten

Okay, think of these three films: Citizen Kane, Shadow of a Doubt, The Third Man. Now try to imagine them without Joseph Cotten.

Even in Citizen Kane where his is a supporting role the two cannot be separated. Think of him in the audience during the opera. Think of him tearing away at that program and then getting drunk afterwards because he can't bear to do what he knows he has to do if he wants to live with himself: Be honest about his reaction to Susan Alexander's "talent." Think of his numb stare when Charles Foster Kane says to him, "Sure, we're speaking, Jedediah: you're fired."

Now think of Shadow of a Doubt. Think of that warm, kind and gentle uncle who seems just a bit on edge. Think of that dinner when he has this exchange with his niece:

Uncle Charlie: Women keep busy in towns like this. In the cities it's different. The cities are full of women, middle-aged widows, husbands dead, husbands who've spent their lives making fortunes, working and working. And then they die and leave their money to their wives, their silly wives. And what do the wives do, these useless women? You see them in the hotels, the best hotels, every day by the thousands, drinking the money, eating the money, losing the money at bridge, playing all day and all night, smelling of money, proud of their jewelry but of nothing else, horrible, faded, fat, greedy women.

Niece Charlie: But they're alive! They're human beings!

Uncle Charlie: Are they? Are they, Charlie? Are they human or are they fat, wheezing animals, hmm? And what happens to animals when they get too fat and too old?

Now think of The Third Man. Think of Holly Martins journeying across the landscapes of the confused, naive and bewildered to the bitter, knowing and finally resigned. Resigned to indifference. Try to imagine another actor able to navigate that terrain as well as Joseph Cotten does in that remarkable film. Think of that conversation he has with Harry Lime on the Ferris Wheel. Think of how he seems at once angry, disappointed and confused with what has become of this man who was once his friend.

Now think of this: Joseph Cotten was not nominated for one of these performances. Now take it a step further: Joseph Cotten was not nominated once for anything, ever, over his entire career. He has not a single nomination. Joseph Cotten was an actor of formidable skill and talent. He elevated the mundane and enriched the great. He was at once rural (The Third Man) and urbane (Gaslight). He was selflessly calculating (Under Capricorn) and selfishly political (The Farmer's Daughter). He was rational (The Magnificent Ambersons) and obsessive (Portrait of Jennie). He was all these things and more but he wasn't an Oscar winner.

Now think about the Oscars and how they award an honorary Oscar to those artists that they ignored during the course of their active careers. Think to yourself that surely they gave one of those to Cotten to make up for the oversights of the past.

Think again.

Cinema Still Life: Where's the Orchestra?

Carol Reed supervises Anton Karas who provided the entire musical score for the film, The Third Man, with this one instrument, the zither. The "Harry Lime Theme" sold over half a million copies in its first month and made Karas a star but alas, his popularity was not to last. He was unpopular in his home of Vienna because he had gained his success with a film that portrayed a defeated, divided Vienna. Geez. And every follow-up he did essentially flopped. But he had that one song and it was enough that he could retire a millionaire. If you'd like to read up on the whole story of Karas and how Reed stumbled across him here's a nice bio from allmusic.com.

Click for larger image.