Markdc’s Retrospective Movie Reviews

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Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


Arguably, no film in the history of cinema experienced more pre-release hype than Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace. The anticipation officially kicked off in the fall of 1993 when George Lucas announced that he would be making a trio of prequels portraying the events leading up to the original Star Wars trilogy. Over the next six years, Lucas, who returned to the director’s chair for the first time since making Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope back in the mid-1970’s, worked tirelessly on Episode I. Meanwhile, the hype grew to unprecedented levels, thanks in large part to the release of the “special editions” to the first three Star Wars films in early 1997. In the six months leading up to the release of The Phantom Menace, which was treated as a Hollywood version of the Second Coming, America—if not the entire world—was consumed by Star Wars fever.

In November 1998, when the first teaser trailer for Episode I was shown in select theaters before a handful of films, including The Waterboy and Meet Joe Black, thousands of Star Wars fans purchased tickets just to watch it, and after the two-minute-long trailer ended, many of them left before the actual movie started. (A few diehard fans even filmed the trailer with videorecorders, but their tapes were promptly confiscated by vigilant theater employees.) And when the trailer was put out on the internet, legions of people crashed web servers in their rush to view it. The second trailer for Episode I was released in March 1999 and paired with the movie Wing Commander, and, once again, fans purchased tickets just to watch it, and this trailer was downloaded more than a million times during its first 24 hours online—a record at that time. The frenzied reaction to both trailers caused quite a sensation on the pre-social media internet; according to a New York Times piece about the first one, a number of Star Wars fans “talked about weeping and shaking while watching the trailer.” And on the entertainment website Ain’t It Cool News, one devotee proclaimed, “What can I say! George Lucas must be a superior form of life!” (In case the reader is wondering, no, I couldn’t find out whether this person still thought the creator of Star Wars was a “superior form of life” after watching The Phantom Menace in its entirety.)

During the wee hours of May 3, 1999 brawls nearly broke out at a number of stores across the country as eager shoppers scrambled to get their hands on toys connected with the upcoming Star Wars film immediately after they appeared on shelves. Fans camped outside theaters for days and even weeks just to buy advanced tickets, which went on sale on May 12—one week before the movie’s official release date; many of these people returned a few days later with their sleeping bags and folding chairs in order to make sure they got good seats when the Big Day arrived. Naturally, the media lavished these stalwarts with breathless coverage, and the fans, many of them dressed up as their favorite Star Wars characters, were only too happy to express their excitement over Episode I for the cameras. “There’s no way this is going to be a disappointment!” one person in a Darth Vader costume told a television crew from CNN. Several people even quit their jobs in order to get early tickets, and a number of citizens from the United Kingdom made arrangements to travel to the United States so they could watch The Phantom Menace during its opening weekend instead of waiting for the film’s UK release, which wasn’t scheduled to take place until July 16. On top of this, the U.S. economy was expected to incur a toll of up to $300 million in lost productivity as a result of more than 2 million workers being absent from their places of employment in order to see Episode I on opening day. Indeed, so many workers were expected to call in sick that media outlets gave this movie-induced epidemic a name—Phantom Flu. (Personally, I would have called it the Black Darth.) And, one month before the film’s release date, the popular singer “Weird Al” Yankovich wrote and recorded a satirical but affectionate tribute to the first Star Wars prequel called “The Saga Begins.”

As May 19 approached, the stage was set for the biggest movie event of all time. In a February 1999 puff piece on George Lucas and his new Star Wars film, titled “The Force is Back,” Vanity Fair writer David Kamp summed up the prevailing sentiment this way:

The Phantom Menace will be a massive film financially—in all likelihood the eventual champ over Titanic—but that's not why it's such a big deal. It's important as probably the most craved film ever. When George Lucas shut down the Star Wars moviemaking machinery in 1983, the year of Return of the Jedi's release, he walked away from the most popular film series in history. Yet he kept insisting that the finished trilogy was only parts four, five, and six of a longer narrative. He had parts one, two, and three all mapped out—they were ‘prequels,’ detailing the early lives of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader—but he just wasn't up to making them at the moment. For Star Wars fans, this was torturous—like knowing that the Beatles had written and rehearsed three follow-ups to Abbey Road but never recorded them. So when, in 1993, Lucas announced that he was back in the saddle (Episodes II and III are promised for the years 2002 and 2005), it was hallelujah time. He has returned. It's really happening.”

For six years, the manic hype and anticipation surrounding Episode I had allowed Americans—especially Star Wars fans—to soar right up to the heavens. Then the movie finally opened nationwide, gravity reasserted itself, and everyone came crashing to Earth.

The backlash began even before the movie’s official release. In the days leading up to May 19, early reviews from media outlets indicated a mixed reception overall, and this remained the case throughout The Phantom Menace’s initial run. Professional movie critics commended, among other things, the film’s visual effects, action scenes, and composer John Williams’ score. However, criticism focused heavily on the film’s plot, which centers around the Jedi’s involvement in a war between the Trade Federation and the planet of Naboo, the return of the Sith and their plot to bring down the Galactic Republic and destroy the Jedi, and the introduction of a young slave boy named Anakin Skywalker. Other targets of criticism included several of the characters and performances and the dialogue, oh that dialogue.

Although a number of Star Wars fans liked the movie, reactions from many of them ranged from mild expressions of disappointment to apocalyptic meltdowns. Not since the Death Star exploded in Episode IV and then again in Episode VI had the universe witnessed such a fiery combustion. One typical fan response came from a then-unknown Eli Roth. Under the cover of anonymity, Roth, who would go on to become a celebrated filmmaker and actor, wrote a review of Episode I for a now-defunct website which began with these words:

“Few films in history have had greater anticipation than The Phantom Menace. People have been waiting on line for over a month to get tickets. I know I have been waiting since 5th grade, following every rumor in ‘Starlog’ and on the Internet. So here’s the kicker: IT SUCKS. I’m sorry, it does. I know it’s sacrilege to criticize George Lucas or the Holy Grail of movie trilogies, but after waiting 16 years I can honestly tell you this film is an unbelievable disappointment.”

Irate fans attacked the movie for a number of reasons, but most of the fire from their rhetorical blasters was aimed at Jar Jar Binks, a CGI alien character that Lucas created in order to provide comic relief for the benefit of younger viewers. As it turned out, many of the children who saw The Phantom Menace on the big screen did fall in love with the clumsy but good-hearted Gungan from Naboo, who was portrayed in a motion-captured performance by a stage actor named Ahmed Best. However, older Star Wars fans viewed Jar Jar as an insufferable, oafish creature who was nothing more than fodder for toy manufacturers, and they launched a war against the character—and Lucas himself—that made the war the Sith waged against the Jedi look like a lovefest. Anti-Jar Jar websites sprouted up all over the internet almost overnight, and someone even composed a song with the not-so-subtle title “Jar Jar Binks Must Die.” It should be said here that there were a few notable exceptions among the diehard fans. For instance, in his review for Episode I, Harry Knowles, founder of Ain’t It Cool News, expressed his feelings for the Gungan this way: “Mesa Luved Him!” Suffice to say, however, Mr. Knowles’ views were decidedly in the minority. Interestingly, Jar Jar Binks received a much warmer reception among professional movie critics. To be sure, he had his haters in this quarter, too; Entertainment Weekly’s Chris Nashawaty, for example, referred to the Gungan as “Jar Jar Stinks.” But there were far more boosters for the floppy-eared alien to be found in American cinema’s cognoscenti than in the Star Wars fanbase. Just to cite a few examples: Peter Travers of Rolling Stone called Jar Jar a “scene-stealer.” (Well, Mr. Travers was correct—just not in the way he meant.) And Andrew O'Hagan, film critic for The Telegraph, wrote that the Gungan “will soon be as loved as Winnie-the-Pooh.” (Suffice to say, that statement hasn’t aged very well.)

Jar Jar Binks didn’t create controversy just because people found him stupid and annoying. A number of fans, critics, and academicians also alleged that the Gungan’s appearance, voice, and behavior were reminiscent of racist stereotypes of African-Americans, especially those from the Caribbean. Indeed, the only thing that could have possibly made the situation with Jar Jar Binks worse for Lucas was if he had given the role to the late pop singer Michael Jackson, who reportedly sought it. (Also, several other characters from The Phantom Menace, such as the leaders of the Trade Federation and Watto, Anakin’s owner, were accused of being anti-Asian and anti-Semitic caricatures. George Lucas and representatives from his company, Lucasfilm, vehemently denied these charges.) Lucas must have taken the criticism to heart because the Gungan only appears in a couple scenes in Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones and is given very little dialogue. In Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith, he appears in one or two scenes and utters a grand total of two words. Still, while Lucas clearly didn’t enjoy the venomous reception that Jar Jar received, he was nonetheless fortunate that Twitter and Facebook weren’t around in 1999.

When the 72nd Academy Awards came around in early 2000, The Phantom Menace, like its predecessors in the Star Wars franchise, received Oscar nominations for Best Visual Effects, Best Sound, and Best Sound Effects Editing. However, the first Star Wars prequel lost all of these awards to The Matrix. In a way, this was a symbolic passing of the torch, for the latter film—like the original Star Wars trilogy—told the story of a group of rebels rallying around a “Chosen One” in a war against a tyrannical regime, employed groundbreaking visual effects, and had a profound impact on American culture. Needless to say, the prediction made by many people in the media world—such as the above-quoted David Kamp of Vanity Fair—that Episode I would dethrone Titanic as the biggest box office champ in movie history didn’t exactly pan out. During its initial run, The Phantom Menace grossed $431 million in North America and $924 million worldwide. (A 2012 re-release of the film in 3D would push the latter figure past the $1 billion mark.) These numbers were well below Titanic’s $600 million domestic gross and $1.8 billion global haul. And yet, despite all of the controversy, disappointment, and wailing and gnashing of teeth, Episode I was, by any measure, a humungous financial hit. At the time of its release, the film was the third-biggest domestic grosser ever, behind only Titanic and the original Star Wars, and, worldwide, The Phantom Menace edged out Jurassic Park to capture the No. 2 spot. Regardless of what one thinks of the first Star Wars prequel, this was an incredible achievement, and—as box office analyst Scott Mendelson has pointed out—it wouldn’t have been possible without sustained repeat business. Indeed, the film played in theaters throughout the summer of 1999, which means that even if a majority of Star Wars fans didn’t like it, many other people did. Still, time has not been kind to The Phantom Menace. The movie is generally regarded as one of the worst installments in the legendarily popular science fiction franchise, and on the movie review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes, it currently holds a 51 percent rating—the lowest of any Star Wars movie. For his part, George Lucas vigorously defends Episode I. He has said it’s one of his favorite films and that Jar Jar Binks is his favorite Star Wars character (no, really).

Before I share my thoughts about The Phantom Menace, let me first say that no Star Wars prequel Lucas made could have lived up to the insane hype and stratospheric expectations, not even if it had possessed the combined cinematic quality of the original trilogy, Gone with the Wind, Lawrence of Arabia, The Godfather, and National Lampoon’s Animal House. Heck, James Cameron’s blockbuster juggernaut Titanic didn’t generate massive hype until after it had been released in theaters, and—despite smashing all previous box office records and winning enough awards to sink an ocean liner—the film still suffered a huge backlash. The Phantom Menace was always going to disappoint a lot of people—the only question was to what degree. I would never dress up as a Star Wars character—though I might make an exception in the case of Boba Fett—or be willing to wait as long as an hour to buy a ticket to a Star Wars movie, but I am a lifelong fan of this franchise. I didn’t see The Phantom Menace during its opening week; I think I first saw it the week after. I have always enjoyed Star Wars movies, regardless of their quality. But for a long time, I felt that The Phantom Menace was one of the worst films in the series. When I watched the movie in preparation for this retrospective review, more than a dozen years had elapsed since I had last seen it. As a cinephile, I have always found that a lengthy interval between viewings enables me to look at a film through fresh eyes, and this was certainly the case with the first Star Wars prequel. I enjoyed Episode I more than I ever had before, and I’m now ready to concede that I was wrong about it. In my opinion, 1999 was one of the greatest years in the history of cinema. Some of my favorite movies from that period include Magnolia, Three Kings, Being John Malkovich, Eyes Wide Shut, and The Sixth Sense. The first Star Wars prequel definitely doesn’t belong on this list. However, The Phantom Menace is still a very good movie and, in spite of its flaws, deserves to be re-evaluated by those Star Wars fans who hated it.

One of the biggest criticisms directed at The Phantom Menace is that it contains lots of dry exposition—especially during the opening crawl—and the political aspects of the plot cause the film to drag somewhat. Maybe this is because I’m a political junkie, but I enjoy the dispute between Naboo and the Trade Federation and the proceedings in the Galactic Senate. Given the fact that The Phantom Menace and its direct sequel, Attack of the Clones, portray the beginning of the end of the Galactic Republic, their plots were never going to be as exciting as Revenge of the Sith, which depicts the fall of the Republic, and the original trilogy, which follow a group of hardy rebels as they fight against the Galactic Empire. Lucas himself described Episode I as “more like a period piece, since it was the history leading up to A New Hope” and, in his interview with Vanity Fair’s David Kamp a few months before the movie’s release, he said, “You see the government at work, you see the Senate. You also see the demise of the Old Republic.” The way I view it, Episodes I and II are the setup, and Episodes III through VI are the payoff.

Yes, much of the dialogue in the movie is as flat as a pancake, but The Phantom Menace has a terrific cast who do the best they can with the words they are given. I love Liam Neeson as Qui-Gon Jinn. Neeson, who has always been one of my favorite actors, was born to play a Jedi master. (Speaking of Qui-Gon, I’ve always found it funny that even though he comes across as a wise Jedi who trusts his own judgment when others—including his superiors—do not, he makes several blunders that end up dooming the Republic he serves. For instance, although he frees Anakin from a life of slavery on Tatooine, he doesn’t make any serious attempt to do the same for his mother. Instead, Qui-Gon takes Anakin away from her, despite the close bond that the two of them share. And later on, he decides to train Anakin as his apprentice against the wishes of the Jedi Council. Both actions lead the young Padawan down the path to the Dark Side.) Although Ewan McGregor is not the actor that Alec Guinness was, I thought he was good as a young Obi-Wan Kenobi. (Coincidentally, McGregor is the nephew of actor Denis Lawson, who played the Rebel X-wing starfighter pilot Wedge Antilles in the original trilogy.) Natalie Portman is a phenomenal actress and she’s okay here, but her character, Queen Padmé Amidala of Naboo, reveals herself to be a complete idiot later in the prequel trilogy. (I elaborate upon this point in my retrospective reviews for Episodes II and III.) Also, it’s a joy to see one of my favorite actresses, Keira Knightley, in her debut role as Amidala’s handmaiden and decoy Sabé. (Another one of Amidala’s handmaidens was played by director Francis Ford Coppola’s daughter Sofia, who would go on to become a great filmmaker in her own right.) Despite the torrent of criticism and vitriol he received when The Phantom Menace was released, I think Jake Lloyd was perfectly fine as young Anakin Skywalker. As a child actor, Lloyd doesn’t distinguish himself the way Joel Haley Osment did in M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense, which was released just two months after Episode I. However, the blame here might lie more with Lucas’ lousy writing skills. After all, I’ve heard that Hayden Christensen is a talented actor, but you wouldn’t know that from watching Episodes II and III. As for Samuel L. Jackson’s performance as the Jedi master Mace Windu, I’ve always felt that he was badly miscast in The Phantom Menace and its two sequels. This is not a question of acting ability—Jackson is one of the most gifted actors I’ve ever seen. He just seems out of place in a Star Wars movie. Since Jackson and fellow actor Laurence Fishburne are often mistaken for each other, I just want to say that Fishburne would have made an awesome Jedi master because of his numerous mentor roles in films as varied as Boyz N the Hood, Searching Hoodfor Bobby Fischer, and—most famously—The Matrix. The greatest performance in The Phantom Menace is by Ian McDarmid, who plays Senator Sheev Palpatine of Naboo and his Sith alter ego Darth Sidious. Prior to Episode I, moviegoers had only known McDarmid as Emperor Palpatine from Return of the Jedi, and it’s a joy to see him here as a politician who is cunning, manipulative, and two-faced (literally). During the course of The Phantom Menace, we see Senator Palpatine/Darth Sidious orchestrate a war between his home planet and the Trade Federation and then use this state of affairs to oust the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic and become his replacement. This guy would make Machiavelli blush.

And now we must turn to the Gungan in the room. First, let me start off by saying I think we can all agree that the creation of Jar Jar Binks was not George Lucas’ finest hour. And, years from now, I don’t think lines like “Icky, icky goo!” are going to be quoted alongside “May the Force be with you” and “Luke, I am your father.” Still, Jar Jar didn’t deserve all the hatred he has received from Star Wars fans over the years. Sure, he’s annoying, but I don’t think he’s any worse than Chewbacca or the Ewoks. Also, I think the accusations of racism that have been directed at Jar Jar and other characters from Episode I are ridiculous. Furthermore, it’s important to acknowledge that, love him or hate him, Jar Jar was cinema’s first motion-captured CGI film character, and he paved the way for other—and more popular—CGI creations like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings and Caesar from the recent Planet of the Apes trilogy. And I want to say here that while Star Wars fans certainly had the right to express their (usually hostile) opinions of Jar Jar Binks, it’s clear that many them took things way too far. In addition to receiving harsh insults and accusations both online and in person (“You destroyed my childhood!” was just one of the many things he heard), Ahmed Best was also the recipient of a number of death threats. In 2018, nearly two decades after The Phantom Menace was released, Best revealed on social media that the toxic reaction to his character from Star Wars fans caused him to contemplate suicide. I understand that a lot of fans reviled Jar Jar, but it’s always important to remember that words matter, and there was a real flesh-and-blood human being behind all that CGI.

Best wasn’t the only actor from Episode I to find himself an unfortunate target of the fandom menace. Jake Lloyd was also the focus of an online hate campaign that doubtless caused him to wish he was in a galaxy far, far away. And just what horrific crime did this 10-year-old commit to warrant such abuse? Did he deliberately set an orphanage on fire or drown a litter of kittens for fun? No. Apparently, Star Wars fans detested the fact that this child actor acted like…a child. Of course, it was ludicrous to expect 9-year-old Anakin to do the Sith Lord routine from the outset, but even if fans didn’t like him acting his age and yelling “Yippee!” as he operated a podracer, they should have blamed Lucas, not Lloyd. In addition to the hate he received on the internet, Lloyd was mocked and bullied at school to the point where he decided to quit acting in 2001 at the age of 12. However, this didn’t put an end to the abuse, and Lloyd’s life continued to go downhill. Over the following years, he experienced several run-ins with law enforcement. (Ironically, one of them involved a high-speed chase, albeit with automobiles, not podracers.) Also, his younger sister Madison—who had a small part in Episode I—died in 2018. And in 2020, Lloyd’s mother Lisa disclosed to the public that he had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. I’m sure Lloyd’s mental illness wasn’t caused by the hostility he received from Star Wars fans, but there can be little doubt that this hostility made his situation much worse than it already was.

To this day, Lloyd’s reputation has never recovered in the eyes of the fanbase. However, in 2015, Best’s fortunes changed when a Reddit user, who went by the name Lumpawarroo, put forth an elaborate theory arguing that, rather than being a CGI version of the Three Stooges who was manipulated by Palpatine into giving him absolute power in Episode II, Jar Jar Binks was actually “a highly skilled force user in terms of martial ability and mind control.” Lumpawarroo pointed to several scenes in The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones in which the Gungan displays unusual physical and mental acumen, in contrast to his normal behavior, gestures with his hands when attempting to convince others to follow a desired course of action, and appears to instill in young Anakin a romantic attraction to Queen Amidala and a lack of respect for the Jedi. According to the theory, all of this adds up to Jar Jar being a Sith Lord in disguise who secretly aided Palpatine, his fellow Naboo native, in the latter’s rise to power. The theory spread like wildfire on the internet and was eagerly embraced by Star Wars fans and discussed by a number of bloggers and mainstream media outlets, who dubbed it “Darth Jar Jar.” (Personally, I would have called it Darth Darth Binks.) Although George Lucas refused to comment when asked about the theory, Best went to Twitter to hint that Darth Jar Jar was a real thing. Later, during an interview on YouTube, Best went further and said the Gungan “could” have “evolved” into the villain outlined by the theory but that Lucas scrapped his plans for Jar Jar because of the negative reaction that the character received from hardcore fans. However, I share the view of some that Darth Jar Jar is—in all likelihood—total bunk. After all, Lucas has always said he created Jar Jar Binks in order to appeal to kids, and having this alien screwball turn out to be a Sith Lord isn’t exactly what I would call kid-friendly. But if this is true, you might ask, then why did Best appear to confirm at least some details of the theory? Well, there’s an easy answer to that question: Maybe the actor wanted to give Star Wars fans a reason to finally stop flaying him. Personally, I think that making Jar Jar a secret villain would have vastly improved the prequel trilogy as well as the character’s standing among the fanbase. In a May 2019 piece commemorating The Phantom Menace’s 20th anniversary, Clarissa Loughrey, film critic for The Independent, compared the Gungan to Forrest Gump due to his buffoonish personality and unwitting tendency to show up during significant moments in the film. But what if, instead of being Forrest Gump, Jar Jar was really akin to Keyser Soze from The Usual Suspects—someone who appears to be a harmless, bumbling fool but is, in reality, an intelligent, cunning, and dangerous baddie? (We could call him Jar Jar Soze or Keyser Binks. Or how about the Usual Gungans?) If I had written the scripts to the prequels, I would have outlined a three-part evolution for Jar Jar: In Episode I, he’s a clueless nincompoop, in Episode II, he’s Palpatine’s unwitting patsy, and in Episode III, he’s revealed to be Palpatine’s secret accomplice. And if it is true that Lucas really intended for Jar Jar to be a villain and abandoned this plan due to the backlash from fans, then he blew one of the biggest opportunities he ever had to really make the prequels shine.

And speaking of villains and blown opportunities, it is now time to turn to Darth Maul, Darth Sidious’ apprentice. Played wonderfully by professional martial artist Ray Park, Maul, with his demonic face and double-bladed lightsaber, has “BADA$$” written all over him and is the only new villain in the prequel trilogy that I really liked. As every Star Wars fan knows, Maul fatally wounds Qui-Gon Jinn in Episode I’s climactic lightsaber duel and then is cut in two by Obi-Wan Kenobi and falls down a shaft. In a piece titled “Killing Darth Maul: George Lucas’ Biggest Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Mistake?”, Den of Geek writer Ryan Lambie outlined a fantastic alternate scenario for Darth Maul and how it could have impacted the prequels:

“Qui-Gon is mortally wounded by Darth Maul, who then makes his escape – perhaps assuming that Obi-Wan, who’d just fallen off a high platform in the Theed Generator Complex, was either dead or severely injured. Qui-Gon’s dying wish is that Obi-Wan takes Anakin under his wing and train him as a Jedi. Obi-Wan agrees, while privately vowing to avenge the death of his master.”

“In the subsequent films, Darth Maul would continue to serve as Obi-Wan’s nemesis. Obi-Wan aims to teach Anakin the ways of Jedi righteousness, but secretly fights his desire for revenge. It could even be that Obi-Wan’s bitter thoughts might in some way lead Anakin into turning to the Dark Side. At the very least, this plot strand, with Obi-Wan wrestling with the guilt and anger over the death of his master, could make his character something more than merely stoic and well-meaning.”

“With a little rewriting, Obi-Wan could have fought Darth Maul, and not General Grievous, in the third and final prequel, Revenge of the Sith. This would have solved three problems in one stroke: first, it would have resulted in a physical, Ray Park-led combat sequence rather than one heavily augmented with weightless CGI; two, it would have added an emotional dimension to the scene (finally, Obi-Wan gets to purge himself of his anger); and three, it would have provided an apt connection to the Revenge in the movie’s title.”

“How much more effective would it have been when, having finally killed Darth Maul in combat, Obi-Wan had recognized the depth of his own bloodlust, and the satisfaction at having killed his enemy? Just as Luke Skywalker looked at his robot hand and saw his own path to the Dark Side in the Original trilogy, Obi-Wan could have recognized the darkness in himself, and realized too late that hatred and a lust for revenge was already turning Anakin into another Lord of the Sith.”

I can’t think of any way to improve upon this. However, if Darth Maul had remained Darth Sidious’ apprentice until Episode III, where he would be slain by Obi-Wan Kenobi and replaced by Anakin, this would cause complications for the scenario mentioned above regarding Jar Jar Binks being a secret Sith Lord due to the Sith’s Rule of Two. Therefore, on second thought, I think it would have been best to have the Gungan merely be an ally of Palpatine’s who happens to be strong with the Force but not an actual member of the Sith Order.

I should note here that in spite of the relatively “unexciting” nature of The Phantom Menace’s plot, the film boasts three incredible action sequences. The podrace scene on Tatooine is exhilarating, although it goes on a bit too long. The invasion of Naboo by the Trade Federation’s droid army and the resultant battle with the Gungans is pretty cool and foreshadows future large-scale CGI battles in films such as The Lord of the Rings. But the real standout is the aforementioned lightsaber duel between Gui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Maul. This climactic fight scene is one of the best in the entire Star Wars franchise, features fantastic choreography, and is accompanied by electrifying, spine-chilling, choral-driven music by John Williams. The action sequences are aided greatly by the film’s magnificent visual effects. There has always been a widespread misperception that the effects in the prequel trilogy were virtually all CGI. But, in point of fact, much of the effects were actually practical in nature, and it’s a great credit to the skills of George Lucas and the folks over at Industrial Light & Magic (ILM) that the practical and digital effects are woven together so seamlessly that it’s difficult to tell one from the other. And speaking of visual effects, one thing I especially dig about The Phantom Menace is the city-planet of Coruscant. I’ve always loved seeing futuristic cities in movies, and the scale and beauty of Coruscant reminds me of my favorite science fiction film, Fritz Lang’s seminal silent classic Metropolis.

I’d like to address one of the most controversial aspects of The Phantom Menace among Star Wars fans—namely, the existence of midi-chlorians. In the wake of Episode I’s release, many fans objected to them because they felt that their existence greatly diminished—if not destroyed—the spiritual nature of the Force and revealed it to be nothing more than a biological form of predestination whereby characters could only become Jedi if they happened to have a whole bunch of these little buggers living inside their bodies. Midi-chlorians offended Star Wars fans who always saw Jedihood as a mystical, egalitarian vocation that anyone could work toward. For example, in an article for Time, comic book writer Evan Narcisse claimed midi-chlorians “ruined Star Wars for me,” and someone posted this on an Ars Technica message board: “Star Wars - the force is a mystical energy = fantasy. Star Wars - the force is caused by mitichlorians [sic] = fork you.” (Okay, this person didn’t actually use the word “fork.” He/she used a similar-sounding word. However, this is supposed to be a family-friendly review.) Personally, I don’t have a problem with midi-chlorians and don’t think they hurt the idea of the Force at all. Journalist Abraham Riesman put it best in an article for Vulture:

“The Force is still vaguely defined, allowing you to map whatever meaning you want onto it — it just so happens that there might be little creatures that help us become more sensitive to it, and some people have more of them than others. Ask yourself: How different is it from our other notions of the Jedi? It had already been established that they’re people who are somehow born with greater sensitivity to the Force, meaning we already accepted the idea of the Force as a birthright reserved for a chosen few, fundamentally different from the rest of us. Is it that big of a leap to say that their differences show up in biology, too?”

Speaking of chosen people, one thing that’s always annoyed me about Episode I is Lucas’ use of the “immaculate conception” idea to explain Anakin’s birth. It’s not a huge problem, but I’ve always thought it was kind of dumb. If I had written the script, I would have had it so that Anakin had a father who either died or left his family when the boy was an infant, and his identity would remain a mystery. Oh, sure, Anakin Skywalker may be a super-important Jedi Knight-turned-Sith Lord-turned-Jedi Knight, but he ain’t no Jesus Christ. Another part of The Phantom Menace that has received criticism is the climax, which has four things occurring simultaneously: 1) The invasion of Naboo; 2) The lightsaber duel; 3) Queen Amidala’s search and capture of Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray; 4) The attack by Naboo pilots (who are later joined by Anakin) on the Trade Federation’s Droid Control Ship. After he viewed a rough cut of the finished film, Lucas said the climax felt “a little disjointed” and conceded that “I may have gone too far in a few places.” After they saw the finished movie, a number of film critics and Star Wars fans heartily agreed with this assessment. Personally, I find the climax highly entertaining and don’t have a major problem with it. However, it probably could have benefitted from tighter editing and fewer plot elements.

The Phantom Menace ended up costing $115 million to make, which is ironic because, back in 1993, Lucas said one of the reasons why he waited so long to do another Star Wars movie after Return of the Jedi was so he could lower production costs with digital effects and prevent them from spiraling upwards to the point where they were on a par with the budget of Terminator 2: Judgment Day—at that time the most expensive film ever made but which actually cost more than $10 million less than Episode I. Because Lucas paid to make the first Star Wars prequel out of his own pocket, he enjoyed total creative control over every aspect of the production. This, of course, is every filmmaker’s dream. After all, Hollywood history is replete with examples of insufferable and often disastrous studio meddling—as celebrated directors like David Fincher, Ridley Scott, and Terry Gilliam can attest. However, the major pitfall for directors who can do whatever they want to their films is that…they can do whatever they want to their films. This situation is sometimes cited by people as a reason for why The Phantom Menace is a “bad” movie. As I have made fairly clear throughout this retrospective review, I don’t consider Episode I to be “bad.” However, I do think it was problematic for Lucas—one of the most powerful people in Hollywood—that he was surrounded by yes-people. He might have benefitted from underlings and associates who could have imparted constructive criticism at various points during the production or just said, “George, buddy, I’ve got a baaaad feeling about this.” With that being said, I do believe that The Phantom Menace was better off for having Lucas enjoying total freedom to make the movie he wanted as opposed to answering to studio executives.

One of the most controversial aspects of Episode I among Star Wars fans is Lucas’ decision to depict the future Darth Vader as a little boy, and, reportedly, the execs over at Twentieth Century Fox were fiercely opposed to it. When Lucas pitched the idea for the film, one of them is said to have shouted, “You’re going to destroy the franchise; you’re going to destroy everything!” Members of Lucas’ team over at Lucasfilm also had serious reservations about The Phantom Menace being centered around a 9-year-old Anakin, but he ignored their concerns and forged ahead. These fears appear to have been realized when the movie was released and many Star Wars fans reacted negatively to “Annie.” In a November 2020 article for Den of Geek, Joseph Baxter wrote, “The general consensus—which came about after an initial period of shock and a bit of denial—was that Young Anakin was a poor choice of a protagonist for myriad reasons.” Elsewhere in the piece, Baxter notes that “Lucas apparently thought that the character’s relationship and emotional separation from his mother was the most important aspect of his introduction and eventual arc toward the dark side. As Lucas explained in a 1999 interview with Empire, ‘I knew if I’d made Anakin 15 instead of nine, then it would have been more marketable’ he said, adding, ‘If I’d made the Queen 18 instead of 14, then it would have been more marketable. But that isn’t the story.’” Baxter shares the view of many fans that Lucas should have started Anakin out as a young adult because it would have given the character more time in the prequels to build his crucial relationships with Obi-Wan and Padme. This is a valid criticism, but I believe Lucas was absolutely right to portray Anakin as a child in The Phantom Menace, mainly for the reasons that the director gave in that Empire interview. In addition, I think it was important to show that Darth Vader, whom—during the course of the original trilogy—everyone had come to know as one of the evilest men in the galaxy, was once an innocent and loving child who possessed hopes and dreams and a desire to help others.

And speaking of little Annie, I would like to address another complaint that Star Wars fans made against The Phantom Menace. They didn’t like the focus on 9-year-old Anakin and the presence of Jar Jar Binks because these aspects of Episode I signified that Lucas was making a movie for kids as opposed to the adults who’d been reared on the original trilogy. They apparently forgot—or never realized—that the original, beloved Star Wars was also meant for kids. Shortly before A New Hope was released, Lucas said of it: “I’ve made a Disney movie, a cross between Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes.” (Lucas’ remark about having made a “Disney movie” proved to be eerily prescient, as Walt Disney Studios would go on to purchase Lucasfilm in 2012 and—as of this writing—produce five Star Wars films.) Now I’ve never seen the latter film, and—judging from its title—I plan to keep it that way. However, I grew up watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, which has always been a favorite of mine, and I must confess that I don’t see any great similarities between that movie and Episode IV other than the fact that the former features a character who’s the size of the Death Star. With that being said, I understand Lucas’ broader point, which is that the original Star Wars was always meant to be a fun adventure aimed at younger viewers as opposed to the artistic/intellectual/philosophical cinematic Taj Mahal that many of the film’s fans apparently see it as. In recent years, Lucas has reiterated that the Star Wars movies—at least the ones he was involved with—are, at their core, mainly for youngsters. For instance, during an event marking the 20th anniversary of the release of The Phantom Menace, he said, “The films were designed for 12-year-olds. I said that right from the very, very beginning and the very first interviews I did for A New Hope. It’s just that they were so popular with everybody, that everybody forgot that.” Personally, I like Episode I’s lighthearted, kid-friendly tone because it presents a stark contrast to the much darker tone of Episode II and the utter bleakness of Episode III.

Of all the film critics whose reviews I have read, my favorite was the late Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times. One of the things I loved most about him was that he could make me see films for what they truly were, even if it took me a long time to do so. Although The Phantom Menace was the first Star Wars movie that didn’t earn a perfect four-star rating from him, Ebert gave the prequel three-and-a-half stars and called it “an astonishing achievement in imaginative filmmaking.” At the time, I thought he was nuts, but I now believe he was right. And despite its (current) abysmal Rotten Tomatoes rating, I hope that in future years, more people will view Episode I not as a great Star Wars film but as a damn good one and a worthy entry in the franchise. Yes, the movie comes up short in terms of cinematic quality when compared to the original trilogy. Yes, it has flaws. And yes, it failed to meet expectations. But for all that, The Phantom Menace is an impressive achievement from a true visionary. The Force is strong with this one.





Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones (2002)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


Given the mixed and often hostile reaction which greeted Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace after that film generated the greatest pre-release hype in movie history, it should come as no surprise that the hype surrounding the May 16, 2002 release of the sequel, Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones, was somewhat tempered by comparison. In the early months of 1999, images associated with Episode I had adorned the covers of countless English-language magazines, including ones that had nothing to do with cinema or science fiction; suffice to say, this didn’t happen with Episode II. Also, George Lucas and his marketing and merchandising team were much more restrained in their approach to selling Attack of the Clones than had been the case with the film’s predecessor. According to the New York Times, the people at Lucasfilm and Twentieth Century Fox, its distributor, were leaking information to the public indicating that the new Star Wars movie “will be faster, darker, bigger and emotionally richer than ‘The Phantom Menace’”—and they also made sure to let everyone in the galaxy know that “Jar Jar Binks will hardly appear in it.”

However, in spite of the newfound caution and diminished anticipation and hype, Attack of the Clones still generated a good deal of excitement among Star Wars fans. As had been the case with Episode I, when the first teaser trailer for Episode II was released in theaters in November 2001, people purchased tickets just to see it and left before the movie the trailer was paired with (Monsters, Inc. this time) began. Similar to what happened three years earlier, employment firms predicted that the U.S. economy would lose more than $300 million in lost productivity due to millions of workers pulling a Tom Sawyer and playing hooky from their jobs in order to see Episode II on opening day. The media dubbed this new deluge of “sick” calls the “Star Wars virus.” (Talk about a boring nickname. Personally, I would have called it “Pneuclonia.”) Although few people expected the movie to be as big a box office smash as The Phantom Menace was, many were nonetheless confident that the upcoming sequel would do boffo business.

When Attack of the Clones finally opened, it didn’t fare much better than The Phantom Menace in terms of critical and fan reaction. The reviews were mixed at best. Though a number of critics felt that Episode II was, on the whole, an improvement over its predecessor, the sequel was knocked for—among other things—its plot, extensive use of CGI effects, digital photography, acting, and the dialogue, oh that dialogue. One particular target of derision was the movie’s clunky romance between Anakin Skywalker and Queen-cum-Senator Padmé Amidala. Roger Ebert, the late great film critic for the Chicago Sun-Times, spoke for many of his peers when he wrote, “I was amazed, at the end of ‘Episode II,’ to realize that I had not heard one line of quotable, memorable dialogue. And the images, however magnificently conceived, did not have the impact they deserved.” Further down in his review, Ebert wrote, “The other characters--Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padme Amidala, Anakin Skywalker--seem so strangely stiff and formal in their speech that an unwary viewer might be excused for thinking they were the clones, soon to be exposed.” (Now that would have been a great twist!) Ebert also said this of the Anakin-Padmé relationship: “There is not a romantic word they exchange that has not long since been reduced to cliche.” (Ebert, who died of cancer in 2013, awarded just two stars to Attack of the Clones, making it the only Star Wars movie he would ever give a Thumbs Down verdict to.) Although some Star Wars fans liked Episode II, most of them largely agreed with the critics’ assessment, though the former did appreciate that the reviled Jar Jar Binks was mostly MIA during the movie.

On the financial front, Attack of the Clones was, as expected, a major hit when it was released. The film ended up earning $310 million at the domestic box office and $650 million worldwide. These were impressive numbers in 2002, but not only were Episode II’s domestic and global grosses far lower than those for Episode I ($431 million domestic/$924 million worldwide), the prequel/sequel earned the unenviable distinction of becoming the very first Star Wars film to not post the highest gross for its year of release. Doubtless, this comparatively weak showing was due to critical and fan reaction. However, it’s worth noting that the movie landscape had changed greatly since Episode I took the box office by storm. In 1999, the only significant competition for The Phantom Menace came from two franchise-starters, The Matrix and The Mummy. But by 2002, blockbuster franchises had become more common. In the year prior to Attack of the Clones’ release, the first entries to the wildly popular Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings franchises arrived in theaters. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, which opened in November 2001, earned $974 million and knocked The Phantom Menace from its perch as the second-highest grossing movie ever worldwide. A month later, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring opened and wound up grossing just over $880 million at the global box office. And both movies enjoyed wide acclaim from critics and audiences alike. In late 2002, their sequels, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, were released and walloped Attack of the Clones in terms of grosses and plaudits. In addition, the first entry in Sam Raimi’s hugely popular Spider-Man trilogy opened just two weeks before Episode II and ruled the summer box office. (On the plus side, in the financial and critical arenas, the second Star Wars prequel stomped all over Star Trek: Nemesis, the tenth entry in the other major sci-fi franchise that came out at the end of 2002.) When the Academy Award nominations were announced in early 2003, Attack of the Clones received just one nod for Best Visual Effects; it ended up losing (rightfully) to The Two Towers. Still, it wasn’t all bad for the second Star Wars prequel on the awards front. Episode II received no less than seven—count them, seven—Golden Raspberry nominations, including Worst Picture and Worst Director, and snagged two wins, including Worst Screenplay for Lucas.

Similar to The Phantom Menace, time has not been especially kind to Attack of the Clones. Although some Star Wars fans maintain that the second prequel is much better than most people think, it is generally considered one of the worst in the series. And on the review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes, Attack of the Clones has a 65 percent rating—the third-lowest of any Star Wars movie. As was the case with The Phantom Menace, I hadn’t seen Attack of the Clones for over a dozen years before watching it in preparation for this retrospective review, though I had seen the movie a couple of times in the theater and on DVD prior to that interval. For a long time, Episode II had been my least favorite Star Wars movie. Though I had once loathed Episode I, I liked it a lot after seeing it recently, and I hoped the same thing would happen with the movie’s immediate sequel. But, alas, no such luck. I enjoy the second entry in the prequel trilogy and like some things about it but still feel that Episode II is, objectively speaking, the worst Star Wars movie ever made.

First, let me start off by discussing what I like about Attack of the Clones. (Don’t worry, this part will be short.) I like that this movie is much darker than The Phantom Menace. Episode II’s plot centers around Obi-Wan Kenobi’s investigation into an assassination attempt against Padmé and discovery of a clone army for the Galactic Republic in its war against a separatist movement called the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the development of Anakin and Padmé’s aforementioned romance, and the former’s slide toward the Dark Side. As always, the visual effects and John Williams’ music are great. One of the joys of watching Star Wars movies is that they provide stunning, otherworldly settings, and in the case of Attack of the Clones, I loved the ocean planet of Kamino. The action scenes are mostly top-notch. The aerial chase through the sky lanes of the city-planet Coruscant is exhilarating. I also enjoyed the dogfight between Obi-Wan Kenobi and the bounty hunter Jango Fett in the asteroid ring around the planet Geonosis, the capital of the separatist movement. The movie’s climactic battle on Geonosis, which kicks off the Clone Wars, is entertaining but goes on a bit too long. As per usual when it comes to Star Wars, Episode II’s climax also has a lightsaber battle, this one between Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Yoda and the film’s main villain, Count Dooku/Darth Tyranus, a former Jedi Master who became Darth Sidious’ apprentice as well as Head of State of the Confederacy. It’s nowhere near as cool as the one that featured Darth Maul in The Phantom Menace, but it’s fun; I especially liked seeing Yoda fly through the air. (This is just a hunch, but I’m guessing that wasn’t puppetry.)

Now for the bad stuff. (Warning: This part may take a while.) Because of George Lucas’ wooden script, much of Attack of the Clones feels dull and lifeless. Say what you will about The Phantom Menace, but for all its flaws, that movie had vivacity and heart, and this is definitely true of the original trilogy. In contrast, Episode II is essentially the celluloid version of a stiff corpse. The film features an ensemble of great actors who do the best they can with the script they are given, but no one is a standout here. Ian McDiarmid is good as Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, who, in this installment, uses the Separatist crisis he orchestrated as Darth Sidious to obtain considerable “emergency” powers from the Galactic Senate and raise the Clone army with the unwitting help of Junior Representative Jar Jar Binks. However, McDiarmid only appears for half the amount of time he did in The Phantom Menace. As was the case in the first prequel, Ewan McGregor is fine as a younger Obi-Wan Kenobi. But now I must deal with the two main leads, Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman, who play Anakin and Padmé respectively.

One of the things I love about Martin Scorsese, my favorite director, is that he has the Midas Touch when it comes to acting. He can take talented actors and cause them to give the finest performances of their careers. (Witness Joe Pesci in Goodfellas and Robert de Niro in Raging Bull.) But even more impressive, Scorsese can take actors who aren’t widely perceived as being especially talented and get critically acclaimed performances out of them. One of the most notable examples of this is Sharon Stone, best known for playing femme fatales in flashy erotic thrillers, such as Basic Instinct and Sliver. Stone was cast in the lead female role in Scorsese’s 1995 mob film Casino, and he directed her to a Golden Globe win for Best Actress and an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress. George Lucas, on the other hand, has the opposite of the Midas Touch in acting. The creator of Star Wars may be one of the greatest visionaries Hollywood has ever known, but he has a knack for taking incredibly talented actors and producing performances that are either mediocre or downright awful.

While I enjoyed Liam Neeson’s performance as Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn in The Phantom Menace, it was vastly inferior to his performances in dramas like Schindler’s List and Michael Collins. But at least Neeson didn’t come off looking terrible. Alas, the same can’t be said for Natalie Portman. As a precocious child actor, Portman displayed amazing talent in films as diverse as Léon: The Professional, Heat, and Beautiful Girls, and she only got better in adulthood. While I have never seen Black Swan, the film for which Portman won the Oscar for Best Actress, I did see her give an impressive, Oscar-nominated performance in Mike Nichols’ 2004 drama Closer. Nichols, like Scorsese, is an actors’ director; George Lucas is most decidedly not. I didn’t have a huge problem with Portman’s performance in Episode I, but her performances in Episodes II and III are the worst I have seen from her yet. As for Hayden Christensen, in 2001, the year before Attack of the Clones’ release, he appeared in a drama called Life as a House, and although the film received lukewarm reviews, his performance was widely acclaimed, and he received a Golden Globe nomination for Best Supporting Actor. But his performance as Anakin Skywalker in Episode II was widely derided, and he ended up winning a much-deserved Razzie for Worst Supporting Actor. Chalk it up to Lucas’ reverse Midas Touch.

The romance between Anakin and Padmé is one of the dumbest I have ever seen onscreen, thanks in large part to Lucas’ ham-handed, anti-Shakespearean dialogue. And speaking of the Bard of Avon, if Romeo and Juliet had spent the entirety of their play reading from a computer manual, they would still have been more engaging than the (literally) star-crossed lovers of Attack of the Clones. Personally, I think it’s a travesty that Christensen and Portman lost the Razzie for Worst Screen Couple. The pop singer Madonna and actor Adriano Giannini won that year for the critically-maligned rom-com Swept Away. I haven’t seen that movie, nor do I intend to, but that pair had to have been truly hideous in order to beat the Christensen-Portman duo.

And speaking of the Anakin-Padmé romance, there’s a scene in Attack of the Clones that has always struck me as bizarre. Upon experiencing a nightmare in which his mother Shmi undergoes great suffering, Anakin returns to his home planet of Tatooine and learns that Shmi, a slave that was purchased and freed by a moisture farmer who ended up marrying her, has been abducted by Tuskens, a.k.a. sand people. After an exhaustive search that leads him to a Tusken camp, he finds his mother badly beaten and dehydrated but still alive. However, she dies in his arms just moments later, and—crazed with grief and rage—Anakin pulls out his lightsaber and goes completely postal. Afterward, he tells Padmé what happened and admits to basically committing an act of genocide against the sand people in the camp. “I killed them,” he tells her. “I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women and the children too. They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals. I hate them!” Now, given that Padmé is portrayed as an intelligent and humanitarian leader who’s devoted to freedom and democracy, you might expect her to react to this confession in one of several ways. For example, perhaps she could recoil in shock and horror and say something like, “You evil, hateful man! I can’t believe I kissed you!” And considering the fact that, earlier in the movie while the two of them were on Naboo, Anakin expressed a personal preference for totalitarian dictatorship, you might think Padmé would be able to add two and two together and conclude that maybe, just maybe, there’s something seriously wrong with that little boy she knew on Tatooine. Furthermore, you might think she would want to contact Yoda, Mace Windu, and the other members of the Jedi Council at the earliest opportunity and warn them that they’ve got a real psychopath on their hands. But instead of doing any of these things, Padmé reacts with sympathy and understanding. “To be angry is to be human,” she tells him. Oh well, I guess love makes you do crazy things. I should note here that in the 20 years since the release of Attack of the Clones, many Star Wars fans have embraced a dark theory which posits that Anakin uses Jedi mind control methods to make Padmé fall in love with him. While this theory goes a long way toward explaining the awkwardness of their romance, I don’t buy it. There’s really no solid evidence to back up this theory. When it comes to the romance issue, I generally subscribe to the George Lucas Stinks at Writing Good Dialogue theory; there’s plenty of solid evidence to support that one.

The clunky romance aside, Episode II’s biggest problem is that it lacks a great main villain. The aforementioned Count Dooku/Darth Tyranus might have been okay as a secondary villain, but as the film’s primary antagonist, he lacks the utterly sinister coolness of Episode I’s Darth Maul. Christopher Lee, who portrays Dooku in Episodes II and III, is a fine actor, and I always enjoy watching him on the screen. However, his presence here actually compounds Attack of the Clones’ villain problem because Dooku is virtually identical to Saruman the White, the wizard Lee played in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, which was released around the same time as the last two Star Wars prequels. In both trilogies, Lee’s character is a prominent member of a powerful mystical order from the good side who defects to the bad side in order to serve an evil master, whom he secretly desires to supplant. The parallels are such that Dooku and Saruman even die at the beginning of the last films in their respective trilogies. Because of this, whenever I watch Attack of the Clones, I can’t help comparing Dooku unfavorably to Saruman, who’s a much better villain. Still, Dooku has one saving grace—he owns a BADA$$ flying motorbike. In my retrospective review for The Phantom Menace, I argued that Lucas should have kept Darth Maul alive until Revenge of the Sith. If he had done that, then Count Saruman—excuse me, Count Dooku—couldn’t have been Sidious’ apprentice due to the Sith’s Rule of Two. However, I wouldn’t have wanted to get rid of Dooku. If I had written the script, I would have made him a prominent member of the Galactic Senate who became the figurehead of the Separatist movement. With regard to secondary villains, there’s Palpatine/Sidious, but—as noted above—he has a more truncated role here than he did in Episode I. Also, Jango Fett is nowhere near as cool a bounty hunter as his young son Boba would grow up to be in Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back.

Although 2002 wasn’t as great a year for movies as 1999 was, it nonetheless saw the release of a number of cinematic masterpieces, including City of God, Adaptation, The Two Towers, and The Pianist. But the best film of that year was the sci-fi thriller Minority Report, directed by Lucas’ longtime friend Steven Spielberg. Minority Report’s release a month after Attack of the Clones marked the first of only two times that these men, who are credited (or blamed) with creating the modern Hollywood blockbuster, found themselves competing against each other at the summer box office. Financially speaking, Lucas was the clear winner; his second Star Wars prequel earned nearly twice as much dough as Minority Report at the global box office. However, the latter earned rave reviews, and there’s no doubt in my mind which film holds up two decades later. Minority Report is exciting, intelligent, and thought-provoking in ways that Attack of the Clones is simply not. With all that being said, I would like to close this piece on a positive note and say that, if nothing else, Episode II did a decent job portraying the continued demise of the Galactic Republic and Anakin’s journey to becoming the most notorious asthmatic in the galaxy. As I wrote in my retrospective review for The Phantom Menace, the best way to view Episodes I and II are as the setup while Episode III is the payoff. And what a payoff it is.




Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


Despite the mixed and often negative reactions that greeted Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace and Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones from critics and fans alike, there was nonetheless a great deal of excitement and hype surrounding the release of Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith. It was, after all, to be the “last” Star Wars movie, and audiences would finally get to see the rise of the Galactic Empire and Anakin Skywalker’s transformation into one of Hollywood’s most popular villains. Revenge of the Sith was set to open on May 19, 2005—six years to the day after the release of The Phantom Menace. Just as they had done in the cases of Episodes I and II, Star Wars fans eagerly devoured Episode III’s trailers when they were released in November 2004 and March 2005 and brought their sleeping bags and folding chairs to theaters days and even weeks before the movie’s release. (In one humorous incident, fans camped outside Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood—only to discover that Revenge of the Sith wouldn’t be shown there.) Also, similar to 1999 and 2002, employment firms predicted hundreds of millions of dollars in lost productivity as a result of workers calling in “sick” in order to see Episode III on opening day. (Media outlets gave this new Star Wars-related epidemic the banal nickname “Episode III Fever.” Personally, I would have called it MononucleoSith.)

When Revenge of the Sith arrived in theaters, it received mostly positive reviews from professional critics, who praised, among other things, the movie’s plot, maturity, visual effects, John Williams’ music, and the performances of several of the actors, including Ewan McGregor and Ian McDiarmid. As had been the case with Attack of the Clones, much of the criticism that the final prequel received focused on the romance between Anakin Skywalker and Senator Padmé Amidala, Hayden Christensen’s performance as Anakin, and the dialogue, oh that dialogue. For the most part, the reaction from Star Wars fans matched that of the critics, and the general consensus among both groups was that Revenge of the Sith was by far the best of the prequels. And the movie fared much better at the box office than its immediate predecessor had. Episode III earned $380 million domestically and $849 million worldwide; in contrast, Episode II’s box office gross was $310 million domestic/$649 million worldwide. Although Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire triumphed over Revenge of the Sith at the global box office with an overall total of $896 million, the third Star Wars prequel beat all other films released in 2005 at the domestic box office. When the Oscars came around in early 2006, the film—surprisingly—became the first entry in the Star Wars franchise to not receive a nomination for Best Visual Effects. (As of this writing, Revenge of the Sith remains the only Star Wars film to claim this dubious distinction.) Episode III did nab an Oscar nomination for Best Makeup but lost to The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. However, on the plus side, Hayden Christensen took home the Golden Raspberry Award for Worst Supporting Actor—his second consecutive win in this category for a Star Wars movie.

Perhaps due in part to the highly polarized political environment that existed in the United States, Revenge of the Sith found itself being used as a partisan football by both Democrats and Republicans. For instance, the liberal advocacy group MoveOn.org ran TV ads and disseminated leaflets likening U.S. Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist (R-Tenn.) to Chancellor-cum-Emperor Sheev Palpatine, the movie’s chief villain, due to Frist’s crucial role in a fight over Senate confirmation of a number of President George W. Bush’s nominees to the federal judiciary. Meanwhile, Conservative websites and blogs slammed Lucas and his film for making what they viewed as not-so-subtle comparisons between Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader and Bush while making a comparison of their own between the White House press corps and the Sith. (Actually, the latter comparison was probably unfair to the Sith.) Some Conservatives even advocated for a boycott of Episode III. For his part, Lucas pushed back on the criticism from the Right by saying he originally had the Vietnam War, President Richard Nixon, and the Watergate scandal in mind when he wrote the plot to his Star Wars saga back in the 1970’s. But the director also noted that “the parallels between Vietnam and what we're doing in Iraq now are unbelievable.” Time has been far kinder to Revenge of the Sith than to its immediate predecessors. Episode III currently enjoys a 79 percent rating on the review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes. This may not be a stellar showing, but it’s far higher than the ratings for The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. In addition, Hayden Christensen’s performance has experienced a re-evaluation of sorts from critics and fans, who now view it in a more positive light.

Before I saw Revenge of the Sith in the theater, I feared that I would dislike it as much as I had the first two prequels. But then I remembered that fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering, so I stopped being afraid and just braced myself for a stinkeroo. However, much to my surprise and joy, I loved the movie. As was the case with Episodes I and II, when I watched Episode III in preparation for this retrospective review, I hadn’t seen it in over a dozen years. After watching the movie recently, I was pleased to discover that my opinion of it hadn’t changed a bit. Revenge of the Sith is a near-masterpiece and the most underrated Star Wars movie ever made—or, to put it in Yoda-speak, fantastic this movie is. I have always loved dark movies, and Episode III is by far the darkest entry in the entire Star Wars franchise. Furthermore, its plot is the best of any of the prequels. In the film, Palpatine manipulates Anakin, who distrusts the Jedi Council and fears losing Padmé to childbirth, into becoming his apprentice and implements the final stages of his grand plan to acquire total dominance over the entire galaxy by using his emergency powers to eliminate the Separatist threat that he secretly orchestrated, transform the Galactic Republic into the Galactic Empire, and turn the Clone army against the Jedi. Episode III is so bleak that it might be suicide-inducing if we didn’t already know that everything will turn out all right by the end of Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi. For example, though it’s depicted largely through inference, the scene where Anakin slaughters the younglings at the Jedi temple is the most disturbing of any Star Wars movie.

The acting in Revenge of the Sith is the best in the prequel trilogy—though, admittedly, that’s not saying much. As was the case with The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones, Ian McDiarmid is at the head of the pack. He has far more screen time in Episode III than he did in the previous two installments, and it’s a delight to watch his character become the deliciously sinister emperor that we knew from Return of the Jedi and turn Anakin into the super-evil—and super-cool—Darth Vader. With that being said, I’ve always had one problem with Palpatine’s rise to ultimate power. I think the plot to the prequel trilogy would have been far more interesting (and realistic) if Lucas had written it so that the trade dispute from Episode I and the Separatist Crisis from Episodes II and III had occurred organically and Palpatine merely took advantage of these developments rather than orchestrate everything like a master puppeteer. As Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ewan McGregor displays a greater degree of emotional depth than he did in the earlier prequels as his character witnesses the republic he has dedicated his life to morph into an evil empire and his apprentice, whom he loves like a brother, go over to the Dark Side. Hayden Christensen’s performance is a great improvement over the one he gave in the previous installment; in Episode II, he was atrocious, whereas in Episode III, he is merely bad.

However, Natalie Portman is just as terrible in the final prequel as she was in the penultimate one. Since I used a lot of words ranting about the Anakin- Padmé romance in my retrospective review for Attack of the Clones, I’ll just note here that it doesn’t get any better in Revenge of the Sith. Also, there’s one scene between Anakin and Padmé near the end of the latter film that is (unintentionally) hilarious and is the main reason why I, in my retrospective review for The Phantom Menace, called Padmé a “complete idiot.” After learning about the murder of the Padawan children in the Jedi Temple, she travels to the volcanic planet of Mustafar to confront Anakin over his actions and beg him to leave the Sith. Now keep in mind that in Episode II, Anakin expressed a personal preference for totalitarian dictatorship and told her that he had massacred an entire camp of sand people—including the women and children. And yet, Padmé is shocked, shocked to learn that her beloved “Annie” would slaughter younglings training to become Jedi Knights. And here’s the kicker: Even after learning of her secret hubby’s horrific deeds, she still wants to spend the rest of her life with him! If you were to conduct a poll asking fans who they thought the dumbest Star Wars character was, Jar Jar Binks would doubtless emerge the winner. However, my vote would go to Padmé; seriously, this woman is a total airhead. Fortunately for the galaxy, her daughter Leia possesses more brains.

As always, the visual effects and John Williams’ music are terrific. I think it’s a travesty that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) never nominated any of Williams’ scores for the Star Wars prequel trilogy—in contrast to his music for all of the entries in the original and sequel trilogies. I also think it was wrong for the Academy to snub Revenge of the Sith for Best Visual Effects. Although the winner, Peter Jackson’s remake of King Kong, was richly deserving, Episode III should have at least received a nod. As is the case with The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones, the action set pieces in Revenge of the Sith are highly entertaining. I enjoy the opening battle in which Obi-Wan and Anakin rescue Chancellor Palpatine, who has been abducted by Count Dooku and General Grievous, the cyborg commander of the Separatists. The scene where Palpatine implements Order 66, which causes the Clone army to turn on the Jedi, is devastating and poignant. And I loved seeing Yoda and Palpatine use their Force powers to hurl Galactic Senate seats at each other. The climactic lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin is better than the one in Episode II but not as cool as the duel in Episode I. However, the lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and General Grievous is a CGI-laden snoozer. And speaking of Grievous, he’s a lousy villain—even worse than Count Dooku was in the previous installment. However, the lack of a cool new villain in Revenge of the Sith isn’t a serious problem because we get to see the rise of Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader. And speaking of the latter, I love seeing Anakin being put into the infamous black outfit and become the most iconic bad guy in sci-fi movie history. Ever since the release of Revenge of the Sith, the scene where Anakin cries “NOOOOOO!!!!!!” when he learns that Padmé recently kicked the bucket has been the object of much derision among Star Wars fans. However, I personally love that scene. Whenever I watch it, I can’t help feeling sympathy for Anakin because, in spite of the evil he has committed, he realizes at that moment that not only did he lose the woman he loved, he has made a series of choices and compromises that have put him in a terrible situation from which he can’t escape. When Anakin/Vader wails in despair, you can just sense the last ounce of humanity drain from his soul.

As the reader doubtless has gleaned from reading this piece, I have few issues with Revenge of the Sith. With that being said, however, whenever I watch this movie, I can’t help but wonder what might have been. In my retrospective review for The Phantom Menace, I quoted several passages from an interesting piece by Den of Geek writer Ryan Lambie, who makes a persuasive case that Lucas should have kept Darth Maul—by far the coolest new villain in the prequel trilogy—alive until Episode III. This would have allowed Lucas to dump Grievous and write in a sweet lightsaber battle between Maul and Obi-Wan during which the former would finally be killed. Lambie also explains how Obi-Wan’s personal, tragic vendetta against Maul throughout the trilogy could have influenced Anakin—who would replace Maul as Palpatine’s Sith apprentice—and contributed to his slide toward the Dark Side. In my piece on Episode I, I also discussed the Darth Jar Jar theory embraced by many Star Wars fans which posits that, rather than being a bumbling nincompoop, the reviled Gungan was really Palpatine’s secret accomplice. If Lucas had followed Lambie’s scenario regarding Darth Maul, showed more of Jar Jar Binks in the trilogy and revealed him to be a Sith ally near the end, changed Dooku’s character so that he was a former Galactic Republican senator-turned-Separatist political leader instead of a former Jedi master-turned-Sith Lord, and written a better romance between Anakin and Padmé, then Episode III could have rivaled Episodes IV and V in terms of cinematic greatness. In fairness to Lucas, though, hindsight is 20/20, and the movie he did make is a glorious achievement. And while Revenge of the Sith isn’t as great as A New Hope or The Empires Strikes Back, I would argue that it’s nearly on a par with Return of the Jedi. And speaking of the latter film, the scene at the end where Darth Vader redeems himself by saving his son Luke’s life and throwing his Sith master down that conveniently located shaft is my favorite in the entire Skywalker saga. It was a powerful moment in the original trilogy but was given even greater power by the prequel trilogy, and Lucas deserves a lot of credit for that. Also, I believe that, in spite of the missteps he made, Lucas largely succeeded in his quest to show the fall of the Galactic Republic and the rise of the Galactic Empire. And, in the opinion of this writer, Anakin’s transformation from idealistic, goodhearted Jedi Apprentice and Knight to evil Sith Lord and back to goodhearted Jedi Knight is the greatest hero’s journey in all of cinema.

In his review for Revenge of the Sith, the late film critic Roger Ebert, who awarded the final prequel 3.5 stars out of four, wrote, “I said this is not necessarily the last of the ‘Star Wars’ movies. Although Lucas has absolutely said he is finished with the series, it is inconceivable to me that 20th Century-Fox will willingly abandon the franchise, especially as Lucas has hinted that parts VII, VIII and IX exist at least in his mind. There will be enormous pressure for them to be made, if not by him, then by his deputies.” Ebert’s prediction that Episode III would be followed by more Star Wars films proved true, though he wouldn’t live to see it come to pass. In 2015, a full decade after the release of Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars did indeed make a triumphal return to the big screen—or, to put it another way, the Force awakened.




Home Alone (1990)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


One of my favorite childhood memories is going to a church Christmas party with my family when I was ten years old. It just so happened that a new movie theater had opened in our town (the old one was destroyed in a fire several years earlier), so the adults gave out movie passes to me and my siblings as well as the children from another family. Then all us kids piled into my parents’ station wagon, and my oldest brother drove us to the theater, and we saw a new family comedy that had recently come out called Home Alone. We loved the movie, and, apparently, so did everyone else.

In case you’re one of the handful of people in the Milky Way Galaxy who has never seen Home Alone or at least heard of it, the plot centers around Kevin McCallister, an eight-year-old boy who resides in a wealthy suburb of Chicago, Illinois. He experiences as miserable an existence as is possible for a rich, able-bodied, blond-haired White kid living in a resplendent mansion. Kevin, the youngest child in his family, doesn’t get to stay up late and watch violent movies and gets picked on by his older siblings—and his situation isn’t helped by the fact that he's a spoiled brat who can’t even tie his own shoelaces without assistance. On the night before his family is scheduled to fly to Paris, France to spend Christmas with relatives, Kevin gets into an altercation with Buzz, his oldest brother, at dinnertime. This results in a huge mess, and Kevin gets sent to bed by his mom. Feeling aggrieved, he makes a solemn wish for his entire family to disappear. As though in reply, a terrible storm reigns down upon his neighborhood and wrecks the power lines. With no electricity, the alarm clocks in the house shut off, and everyone oversleeps as a result. In their haste to get to the airport and make their flight to Paris, Kevin’s family accidentally leaves him behind. When he wakes up and discovers that he’s—wait for it—home alone, Kevin believes his wish has come true. Meanwhile, his parents realize their mistake during the flight to Paris, and once they reach their destination, Mrs. McCallister takes a plane back to the States in what proves to be the first leg of a lengthy and often frustrating journey to return home and reunite with her youngest child. At first, Kevin revels in his newfound liberation and does all the things he’s always wanted to do but wasn’t allowed, such as jumping on his parents’ bed, going into Buzz’s room, and staying up late and watching “bad” movies while eating all kinds of delicious junk. However, he gradually misses his family and regrets the wish he made. Worse yet, he discovers that someone is coming to his house—and it ain’t Santa Claus. Two burglars named Harry Lime and Marv Murchins, who go by the name “Wet Bandits,” have been robbing homes in Kevin’s neighborhood and makes his house a prime target due to its size and opulence. Over the next few days, Kevin comes up with various clever schemes to keep the crooks away. Meanwhile, he learns to become self-sufficient by doing things he’s never done before, such as showering, grocery shopping, and using the washer and dryer. Furthermore, Kevin learns how to overcome his fears. During the course of the movie, the thing that scares him the most is his next-door neighbor, “Old Man” Marley, because of rumors that have circulated among the neighborhood children that he’s a serial killer. Nicknamed the “South Bend Shovel Slayer,” Marley supposedly murders people with his—you guessed it—snow shovel. However, Kevin ends up meeting Marley while the two are watching the latter’s granddaughter (whom Marley has never met) perform in a church choir and discovers that the rumors about the old man are false. The two have a heart-to-heart, and Kevin urges Marley to reconcile with his son, with whom he had a falling-out years ago, so that he can be with his family on Christmas and see his grandchild. Harry and Marv eventually learn that Kevin is—wait for it—home alone and plan a break-in on Christmas Eve night. But Kevin overhears them discussing these plans and sets up elaborate booby traps around the house. The robbery is foiled when the unwitting crooks fall victim to these traps, and Kevin calls the police and taunts Harry and Marv into chasing him to a neighboring house that they had burglarized earlier. But the pair outsmart Kevin this time and catch him. They are about to exact revenge when Marley comes up from behind and knocks them out with his snow shovel. The police soon arrive and arrest the Wet Bandits, and on Christmas morning, Mrs. McCallister returns home, and she and Kevin reconcile before discovering, to their surprise and delight, that the rest of the family took a direct flight from Paris to Chicago and are back, too. Shortly afterward, Kevin looks out a window and witnesses another joyful reunion between Marley and his son and his family. All is well at the McCallister household—until the sequel.

Written and produced by John Hughes—the creator behind some of the most popular comedies of the 1980’s, including Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off—and directed by Chris Columbus, Home Alone was released in the United States on November 16, 1990. Though it ran overbudget and ended up costing a then-hefty $18 million, the movie was a runaway smash hit and played in theaters for well over nine months. When it finally came to home video, Home Alone had earned $285.8 million at the domestic box office and $190.9 million in foreign markets. The movie’s $$476.7 million global haul made it the third-highest grosser ever both domestically and worldwide. Home Alone also held the record for the highest-grossing live-action comedy for two decades until it was eclipsed by The Hangover Part II. In addition, Macauley Culkin, who portrayed Kevin McCallister, became the hottest child star in Hollywood. The film received mixed-to-positive reviews from professional critics, who singled out Culkin’s performance for particular praise. Hal Hinson of the Washington Post called Home Alone “rambunctiously funny” and lauded its “big payoff” but complained that the “setup” was a “drag.” As for the film’s lead actor, Hinson wrote, “What's not to love? Culkin's adorable.” Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times praised the movie’s title and Culkin’s “gifted” performance but excoriated the plot, which he described as “so implausible that it makes it hard for us to really care about the plight of the kid.” Ebert also dismissed Kevin’s booby traps as “the kinds of traps that any 8-year-old could devise, if he had a budget of tens of thousands of dollars and the assistance of a crew of movie special effects people.” When the Academy Award nominations were announced in early 1991, Home Alone received nods for composer John Williams’ Christmassy score and the theme song “Somewhere in My Memory.” However, John Barry ended up winning Best Original Score for Dances with Wolves—that year’s Best Picture winner—and “Sooner or Later (I Always Get My Man)” from Dick Tracy nabbed Best Original Song.

Although it currently holds a lukewarm 67 percent rating on the movie review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes, Home Alone is widely considered a Christmas film classic and has become a television staple during the holiday season. The movie even received a presidential endorsement; reportedly, Home Alone was the favorite film of Gerald Ford, America’s 38th commander-in-chief. Also, as a testament to its enduring popularity, the movie has spawned four sequels (two of them direct-to-video) and a reboot that was released just a year ago. (Because of Home Alone’s popularity, it has been the target of numerous parodies. My personal favorite is from the animated sitcom Family Guy in which the Griffins watch a movie on television titled Home Alone with Competent Robbers. A second parody that I highly recommend readers check out can be found in an episode from The Critic, another animated sitcom, in which film critic Jay Sherman previews an upcoming movie titled Home Alone 5. This parody is also great fun, but the most hilarious thing about it is that, years after the episode aired, Hollywood ended up making a fifth film in the Home Alone series.)

I loved Home Alone as a kid and watched it numerous times. However, prior to writing this retrospective review, I hadn’t seen the film in nearly three decades—though I often catch bits and pieces of it on television during the holidays. While viewing Home Alone from start to finish for the first time in years, I still enjoyed it greatly. This is a funny, entertaining, and touching Christmas movie that perfectly encapsulates the spirit of the holiday. The closing scenes during which Kevin and Old Man Marley (who I suspect was named after the character Jacob Marley in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol) reunite with their families always brings tears to my eyes. The partnership between John Hughes and Chris Columbus—who would go on to direct a number of other family films, including the first two entries in the wildly popular Harry Potter series—was a match made in movie Heaven. And the cast is a delight. Macaulay Culkin, who earned a well-deserved nomination for the Golden Globe Award for Best Actor – Motion Picture Musical or Comedy, was critical to Home Alone’s success, but he also had great help from talented supporting players. John Heard and—especially—Catherine O’Hara are utterly convincing as Kevin’s worried parents. Joe Pesci gave my favorite performance in the movie. Pesci, who has starred in a number of other comedies like the wonderful My Cousin Vinny, is hilarious in Home Alone as the irritable, bumbling crook Harry. (Coincidentally, Pesci also played a hot-headed criminal in another 1990 film, Martin Scorsese’s violent mob classic Goodfellas, and his performance in the latter movie—released just two months before Home Alone—would earn him an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. Also of interest, Culkin appeared in a second 1990 film, Adrian Lyne’s psychological horror film Jacob’s Ladder, which was released just two weeks before Home Alone and, like Goodfellas, is the Christmas movie’s polar opposite in terms of theme, tone, and style.) Daniel Stern is tolerable here as Marv Murchins, Harry’s dimwitted partner in crime, but, with the notable exception of his voice-only performance as the adult Kevin Arnold in the hit television series The Wonder Years, I’ve never been a fan of Stern as an actor. One of the joys of Home Alone is seeing the late, great John Candy. Candy, who starred in several other Hughes films, including Planes, Trains & Automobiles and Uncle Buck, plays Gus Polinski, a Good Samaritan who takes pity on Mrs. McCallister and helps her get to Chicago in time to reunite with Kevin on Christmas Day. (Like Culkin and Pesci, Candy appeared in a second 1990 film, Disney’s The Rescuers Down Under, which was actually released the same day as Home Alone—and suffered at the box office for it.)

One of the things I love most about Home Alone is that it’s a sort of inversion of It’s a Wonderful Life, another Christmas movie. In Frank Capra’s 1946 classic, George Bailey, the protagonist, sees what would have happened to his loved ones if he had never existed; in Home Alone, Kevin McCallister sees what life is like when his loved ones aren’t around. Although I don’t know this for sure, I suspect that John Hughes was influenced by It’s a Wonderful Life when he wrote the script for Home Alone; the Capra film even makes a brief appearance in Home Alone and its immediate sequel, Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. I also suspect that Home Alone took inspiration from the ironically humorous short story “The Ransom of Red Chief” by O. Henry. I like that Home Alone provides an interesting twist on Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey in that Kevin undergoes many stages of this transformational experience while never actually going anywhere (at least in a physical sense). I’m also fascinated by how Home Alone deals with the issue of religion. At first glance, the film’s Christmas message appears to be a secular one about the importance of a family being together during the holiday, and there’s no indication that the McCallisters are Christians who attend church on anything like a regular basis. And yet, two scenes are infused with religious symbolism. The first comes near the halfway point when Harry and Marv nearly hit Kevin with their van. When he sees Harry’s gold tooth, Kevin recognizes the crook as the “policeman” who visited his house the night before his family left for Paris and walks away with a troubled look on his face. This disturbs Harry, and he and Marv decide to follow Kevin in order to discern where he lives. When Kevin realizes that he’s being tailed, he flees to a church and disguises himself as one of the figures in a nativity scene that’s located near the door. Thinking Kevin has gone inside the church, Harry and Marv grow uncomfortable with the prospect of pursuing him further and drive away. The significance here is that the church provides Kevin sanctuary when he needs it most. Later on in the film, when Kevin meets Old Man Marley in the (same?) church, the two of them discuss regretting past words and deeds and reconciling with family members while the choir sings “O Holy Night,” a Christmas carol that contains lyrics about love and redemption. And speaking of music, another key factor in Home Alone’s success as a Christmas movie is John Williams’ fantastic score, parts of which were clearly inspired by Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s seminal Nutcracker ballet. The song “Somewhere in My Memory,” based on Williams’ theme for Home Alone, is one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs.

While I acknowledge Home Alone’s status as a Christmas classic, it is not a film classic. By no means is this movie a cinematic work of art. Home Alone is a film that I enjoy watching around Christmastime but would never want to see during any other part of the year. This is in sharp contrast to It’s a Wonderful Life, a genuine masterpiece that I can watch and enjoy anytime. Also, Planes, Trains & Automobiles, John Hughes’ Thanksgiving film classic, is vastly superior to Home Alone. Similar to what Roger Ebert noted in his review, Home Alone’s central problem is that the plot is so ridiculously implausible that it comes dangerously close to being farcical. Now, to be fair, the movie does go to considerable lengths in an effort to establish some plausibility. For example, when you watch the scene where the family rushes out of the house and to the airport and leaves Kevin behind, you can understand how something like that could happen. Also, there’s another scene where Kevin is in a store holding a toothbrush when Marley comes in. Frightened, Kevin runs away without paying for the item. Thinking he is shoplifting, the lady at the counter has one of her co-workers pursue Kevin. He soon enlists the help of a nearby policeman, but Kevin eludes capture. Afterward, he regrets what has happened, saying to himself “I’m a criminal” in a pitiful voice. This scene cleverly provides a rationale for why, when he learns about Harry and Marv’s wicked designs on his house, Kevin doesn’t go to the police.

However, the premise of Home Alone still has more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese. For instance, it’s odd how many adults in this movie appear to have no problem with the fact that this eight-year-old boy is clearly by himself. This includes the aforementioned lady in the store, a man dressed in a Santa costume, and Marley himself. And when Mrs. McCallister calls the police in Chicago to inform them of the situation, they don’t seem to be too concerned about the fact that a little kid is all alone in a large house in a mostly deserted suburban neighborhood. But the biggest logical hole in Home Alone is the fact that the McCallisters appear to not have any domestic staff. Given the fact that they’re a wealthy family with five kids who live in a mansion, it’s simply implausible that they wouldn’t have any housekeepers, cooks, maids, or other hired help of some kind. But then again, if they did, there would be no movie. Ultimately, Home Alone is a lovable film filled with silly fun and excessive schmaltz and is entirely devoid of the intelligence and insight found in other holiday classics like It’s a Wonderful Life and Groundhog Day.

In closing, I would like to discuss my idea for an alternate ending to Home Alone that, in my view, would have really given audiences something to talk about. In this version, after Old Man Marley rescues Kevin from the burglars, he takes him to his house and gives the boy some hot chocolate. After Marley leaves the kitchen to go to the john, Kevin opens his walk-in freezer and discovers a pile of mummified corpses. To his shock and horror, he realizes the rumors were true, that Marley really is the South Bend Shovel Slayer—which explains why he was able to dispatch Harry and Marv with great ease. Marley suddenly returns to the kitchen, and when he sees that Kevin has discovered his horrible, no-good secret, he tries to murder him with his shovel in order to ensure the boy’s silence. After barely managing to escape a premature death, Kevin runs back to his house. He must now repeat his Christmas Eve ordeal, only this time, instead of being pursued by two bumbling crooks, he has to deal with a cold-blooded serial killer. Okay, I know the filmmakers could never have made this ending, but a fellow can dream, can’t he?




13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi (2016)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


This is only a hunch, but if I were to ask you to name the greatest directors working in Hollywood today, I’m guessing Michael Bay would not make the cut; on the other hand, if I were to ask you who you thought were the worst directors working today, he would probably have a decent shot at topping your list. This is because Bay is, without doubt, one of the most hated filmmakers in the eyes of movie critics, if not by average moviegoers. Of the 15 films that he has directed thus far, only two enjoy an overall “fresh” rating from the review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes—that is, they have a rating of at least 60 percent. And Bay’s highest-rated film, Ambulance (which is also his most recent), stands at 69 percent; this rating hardly indicates widespread acclaim. The news website The Daily Beast once called Bay “the Donald Trump of Cinema” and, no, that wasn’t meant as a compliment. Also, David Denby, film critic for the New Yorker, described the director as “stunningly, almost viciously, untalented.”

On a certain level, I can understand the hatred. After all, Bay has made some of the biggest cinematic stinkeroos I have ever seen. For example, I consider the first Transformers movie to be a dull, stupid, and noisy mess as well as an unforgivable crime perpetrated against the Eighties cartoon that I loved as a child, and I have absolutely no intention or desire to watch any of the sequels, which I gather are even worse than the original. Also, speaking as an avid reader of books about the Second World War, Pearl Harbor is the worst World War II movie I’ve ever seen and contains what must surely be one of the dumbest love triangles to ever grace the silver screen, with poor Kate Beckinsdale being relegated to the unenviable role of a female volleyball bouncing back and forth between two men. And watching—excuse me, enduringArmageddon in the theater back in the summer of ’98 was a truly excruciating ordeal akin to someone boring a jackhammer into my brain for two-and-a-half hours.

With all that being said, I think Bay is a much better director than he’s given credit for. All of his films, including the bad ones, are well-made. If nothing else, he is a skilled craftsman, and when he is given a good script to work with, the results can be quite impressive. For instance, The Rock—the movie, not Dwayne Johnson—was one of the best action flicks of the 1990’s; the film is exciting, funny, and entertaining as hell. Also, The Island was a decent sci-fi thriller, albeit one that was highly derivative and placed too much emphasis on action. (Shocker, huh?) And Pain & Gain was one of the most interesting crime movies I’ve seen in the last decade.

And then there’s 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, based on the best-selling nonfiction book 13 Hours: The Inside Account of What Really Happened in Benghazi by Mitchell Zuckoff. The book and movie tell the story of the terrorist attacks that Islamic militants launched against the American diplomatic compound and nearby CIA base—known as “the Annex”—in Benghazi, Libya on the 11th anniversary of 9/11; the Benghazi attacks resulted in the deaths of four Americans. Like its literary source, Bay’s film focuses primarily on the six private contractors from the Global Response Staff (GRS) who made up the Annex Security Team. All of these men were military veterans who had served in elite units: former U.S. Navy SEALs Jack Silva and Tyrone “Rone” Woods, former U.S. Marines Mark “Oz” Geist, Dave “Boon” Benton, and John “Tig” Tiegen, and former U.S. Army Ranger Kris “Tanto” Paronto. Silva is the closest thing 13 Hours has to a protagonist, and a good portion of the movie is seen through his eyes.

The movie opens with a brief prologue showing the downfall of Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi and the resulting violence and chaos that convinced many countries to pull their diplomatic staff out of Libya—though the U.S. was determined not to be one of them. Silva arrives in Benghazi and is picked up at the airport by Rone, the leader of the Annex Security Team and a close personal friend and former comrade-in-arms. The pair drive to the Annex, where Silva meets the other GRS contractors and the CIA station chief, known only as “Bob.” Later, Silva and his GRS colleagues travel to the diplomatic compound—located about a mile from the Annex and known as the “Special Mission”—shortly before U.S. Ambassador to Libya Christopher Stevens is scheduled to arrive and meet Diplomatic Security Service (DSS) Agents Scott Wickland and Dave Ubben. Wickland and Ubben give their visitors a tour of the place, and the latter are alarmed to discover what they view as inadequate security measures.

After Stevens takes up his post at the Special Mission, it is attacked on September 11, 2012 by terrorists belonging to an Islamic extremist group aligned with Al-Qaeda called Ansar al-Sharia in Libya. Although the compound is nominally guarded by members of a local militia called the February 17th Martyrs Brigade, or 17-Feb for short, they are quickly overwhelmed and put up virtually no resistance. Wickland leads Stevens and his IT specialist, U.S. Foreign Service Information Management Officer Sean Smith, into the compound’s safe room. The terrorists are unable to reach them, so they set the compound on fire in an attempt to force the Americans out. After Wickland contacts the Annex and issues several frantic pleas for help, the GRS team prepares to go to the Special Mission, but Bob, fearing that the Annex will be vulnerable to attack if his security contractors leave, orders them to “stand down.” The contractors grudgingly obey, at least for a little while, but they ultimately decide to defy the station chief’s orders and drive to the Special Mission.

Accompanied by a group of 17-Feb militiamen, the GRS contractors arrive at the burning compound and find Ubben and Wickland still alive but discover that Smith has died, and nobody appears to know where Stevens is. The GRS team looks for the ambassador while Ubben and Wickland take Smith’s corpse to the Annex. After carrying out several searches in the compound and coming up empty, the contractors drive to the Annex themselves. Expecting an attack, the CIA staff make desperate appeals to the U.S. government for military support. In response, Glen “Bub” Doherty, a GRS contractor in Tripoli and former Navy SEAL, and two Delta Force operators grab a bag of money and fly to Benghazi. After the GRS contractors at the Annex spend the entire night repelling assault after assault by Islamic terrorists, Doherty and his team arrive the next morning and prepare to take everybody to the airport. However, the terrorists launch a mortar attack, which kills Doherty and Woods and severely wounds Geist and Ubben. Just when it looks like all is lost, reinforcements from the GRS and a friendly Libyan militia arrive, and everyone from the Annex is transported safely to the airport and flown out of Benghazi. However, contrary to earlier news reports that Ambassador Stevens was found alive by Libyans and taken to a hospital, it is revealed that he is dead.

13 Hours received an overall negative reception from profession critics when it was released in the U.S. on January 15, 2016. However, several aspects of the film’s production, such as the acting and action scenes, received positive responses, and a number of critics noted that 13 Hours was a far more mature effort from Bay than his usual fare. For example, the Chicago Sun-Times’ Richard Roeper called the movie “a solid action thriller with well-choreographed battle sequences and strong work from the ensemble cast” but also said it was “lacking in nuance and occasionally plagued by corny dialogue.” Joe Dziemianowicz of the New York Daily News wrote that Bay “delivers a gripping, harrowing and heartfelt film about the 2012 attack on the U.S. consulate in Benghazi” and praised the director for showing “restraint.” However, Roeper, Dziemianowicz, and others among their peers criticized 13 Hours for being one-sided in favor of its American characters and not delving into the thoughts, feelings, or motivations of the Libyan terrorists. As is often the case with Bay’s work, many critics had nothing nice to say about his Benghazi thriller. Jordan Hoffman of The Guardian, for example, called 13 Hours, “atrocious,” “a terrible movie,” and a “bizarre mix of war pornography and dour isolationist posturing.”

Average moviegoers largely stayed away from 13 Hours. The movie earned just $52.9 million at the domestic box office and $16.5 million overseas, for a global total of $69.4 million. Since Bay’s Benghazi thriller cost $50 million to produce, its paltry financial haul marked a significant—and rare—commercial failure for him; as of this writing, 13 Hours remains the lowest-grossing of all his movies. However, most of the people who saw 13 Hours liked the film enough to give it a cumulative “A” grade on CinemaScore. 13 Hours received a single Oscar nomination for Best Sound Mixing but lost to another war movie, Mel Gibson’s Hacksaw Ridge. Currently, Bay’s Benghazi film boasts a lousy 51 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

When it was first released, 13 Hours ignited a firestorm of controversy—and not just in the United States. In Libya, several prominent citizens of that nation criticized the movie for its “fanatical” and “ignorant” portrayal of the Libyan people and for omitting the efforts that some Libyans made to save Ambassador Stevens’ life. Stateside, 13 Hours was accused of containing factual errors—most notably with regard to the infamous “stand down” order that “Bob” issues to the members of the GRS team, who are itching to go to the aid of the Americans trapped at the diplomatic compound. The real-life CIA officer who was in charge of the Annex on the night of the terrorist attacks in Benghazi said to the Washington Post, “There never was a stand-down order. At no time did I ever second-guess that the team would depart.” However, a number of credible individuals, including one of the GRS contractors who defended the Annex, disputed this claim. And Mitchell Zuckoff, the author of the book 13 Hours, stood by the veracity of the “stand down” scene and said of the station chief: “It’s not credible what he’s claiming.”

Another flashpoint of controversy concerning Bay’s film was its perceived partisan politics. The director claimed 13 Hours was meant to be an apolitical cinematic treatment of the Benghazi attacks whose primary purpose was to showcase the heroism of the private security contractors who risked—and in some cases sacrificed—their lives to help their fellow Americans at the diplomatic compound and defend the CIA Annex from Islamic terrorists. But no matter what Bay did or said, there was probably no way his movie was going to be able to escape politics entirely. This was due to the fact that, from the very beginning, the response in the U.S. to the Benghazi attacks and their aftermath were fraught with partisanship. The attacks took place at the height of the 2012 presidential election between incumbent Democratic President Barack Obama and his Republican challenger, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney. GOP politicians and Conservative commentators accused members of the Obama administration, including the president himself and then-Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, of taking actions before, during, and after the attacks that amounted to a gross dereliction of duty and a coverup. No less than 10 Benghazi-related investigations were carried out by the federal government, including six led by Republican lawmakers in the U.S. House of Representatives. Furthermore, 13 Hours was released at the start of the 2016 election year when Secretary Clinton was running for the Democratic Party’s nomination, which she was widely expected to win. Although Obama and Clinton are never referenced directly in 13 Hours, the film makes the thinly-veiled claim that their administration didn’t do all it could have to help the besieged Americans in Benghazi. For example, there is a scene where Sonia Jillani, an undercover CIA agent at the Annex, calls the U.S. military and begs for air support. However, her desperate appeals are denied, and two of the contractors are later killed. 13 Hours appears to imply that those lives could have been spared if air support had arrived in time.

Some film critics agreed with Bay’s contention that his movie was apolitical. For instance, Variety’s Ted Johnson wrote that 13 Hours “steers clear of politics.” However, others weren’t buying it. In his scathing review for The Guardian, Jordan Hoffman wrote, “Don’t tell me this movie isn’t political. Michael Bay’s Benghazi bonanza is timed for release just before the Iowa caucus and the New Hampshire primary. It’ll hit DVD in time for the general election.” Also, Paramount Pictures, the studio behind 13 Hours, seriously undercut Bay’s claim by launching an aggressive marketing campaign aimed at figures and organizations that were either on the American Right or perceived to be friendly to it, including Conservative media outlets, Evangelical churches, Republican politicians, and military servicemembers. Predictably, the reception that 13 Hours received from commentators on the political spectrum fell largely along partisan lines. For example, in a review for the Conservative New York Post, Kyle Smith called 13 Hours “powerful stuff” and went on to write that “Bay’s goal is to put you right in these men’s boots, to feel the heat, the fear, the fatigue, the weight of the weapons and the web of camaraderie. Sticking closely to the survivors’ accounts of what happened that night, Bay captures in impressive detail the dizzying chaos.” In contrast, Zach Beauchamp of Vox, a Progressive website, wrote in his review that “the movie lends credence to some of the most pernicious conspiracy theories about Benghazi out there.”

Before I give my own assessment of this film, I think it’s worth noting that 13 Hours was the latest of four movies about the War on Terror that were released nationwide during four consecutive Januarys. The others were Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty, released in January 2013, Peter Berg’s Lone Survivor, released in January 2014, and Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper, released in January 2015. (Note: Each of these three films had a limited December release before opening big the following month in order to qualify for the following year’s Academy Awards. The suits at Paramount opted not to do this for 13 Hours—no doubt because they knew that any movie which included the words “Directed by Michael Bay” would never be considered prime Oscar material.) All of them were commercial successes. So why did these movies succeed at the box office, and why did 13 Hours fail? One reason was because the first three movies all received positive reviews from professional critics, and Zero Dark Thirty and American Sniper were even nominated for the Best Picture Oscar. Also, 13 Hours didn’t feature any major stars in its cast, while Lone Survivor had Mark Wahlberg and American Sniper had Bradley Cooper. But perhaps the greatest reason was that, although all of these War on Terror-related films generated controversy of one kind or another, the first three could claim to be inherently nonpartisan. For example, Zero Dark Thirty was about the hunt for and killing of 9/11 mastermind Osama bin Laden—something Americans from all parts of the political spectrum supported. And regardless of what one thought of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, Americans of all stripes saluted the courage and sacrifice of military heroes like Navy SEAL Marcus Luttrell, the subject of Lone Survivor, and Navy SEAL Chris Kyle, the subject of American Sniper. But the partisan politics surrounding the Benghazi attacks ensured that certain segments of the population would be dissuaded from seeing 13 Hours, regardless of what the critics said about it.

While I don’t believe that 13 Hours is nearly as good as Zero Dark Thirty, which is—in this writer’s opinion—the greatest film ever made about the War on Terror, Bay’s movie is an excellent adaptation of Zuckoff’s source novel (which I loved) as well as his most important and underrated cinematic effort. I also like 13 Hours a lot more than either Lone Survivor or American Sniper. As I said above, Bay is a skilled craftsman, and the action sequences in 13 Hours are well-made, gripping, and make you feel as though you’re right there in Benghazi with the main characters. The cast is good, though—unlike in the cases of Zero Dark Thirty and American Sniper—none of the actors give what I would consider an Oscar-caliber performance. I especially like John Krasinski, who portrays Jack Silva, an ex-Navy SEAL and father of two little girls. Silva leaves his pregnant wife and children and travels to Libya for the considerable paycheck, but over the course of the movie, he learns what’s really important in his life. Krasinski is best known for his role as Jim Halpert, the witty assistant manager in the television sitcom The Office. I have never seen The Office, but if I had, I might be even more impressed with Krasinski’s performance in 13 Hours. The only actor from 13 Hours that I am familiar with is James Badge Dale, who plays Tyrone “Rone” Woods. I’ve seen Dale in several films, including The Departed and Only the Brave, but know him best for his performance as U.S. Marine rifleman Robert Leckie from the HBO miniseries The Pacific. Dale, Krasinski, and the other actors who play the private security contractors do a convincing job portraying these tough, courageous former special operators who fought against terrible odds and saved American lives.

I consider 13 Hours to be first and foremost a stirring cinematic tribute to American heroes, but I agree with the movie’s implicit claim that the Obama administration didn’t do enough to ensure the safety of the Americans at the diplomatic compound and CIA Annex in Benghazi both before and during the terrorist attacks. I also believe that prominent members of the administration, most notably Secretary of State Clinton and National Security Adviser Susan Rice, intentionally mislead the American public by pushing the false notion that the attacks were the result of “spontaneous” protests against an anti-Islamic video; 13 Hours charitably blames this bit of disinformation on “press reports.” (During the 2012 election, Obama, who had ordered the historic Navy SEAL raid which resulted in the death of Osama bin Laden, claimed that, under his leadership, Islamic terrorism was on the decline, and the Benghazi attacks seriously undercut this message.) However, I want to stress here that my love of 13 Hours stems from my appreciation of its cinematic virtues, not its politics. Although I am a Center-Right Conservative, I love several movies about the War on Terror that contain Leftwing political overtones, such as Paul Greengrass’s Green Zone and Gavin Hood’s Rendition.

By way of criticism, I think 13 Hours would have benefitted from displaying a bit more nuance by showing scenes from the viewpoint of the Muslim militants who assaulted the diplomatic compound and the Annex in Benghazi as opposed to portraying them simply as one-dimensional villains. (As awful as Pearl Harbor is, the movie at least grants audiences a view of the infamous air attack on the American naval base in Hawaii from the perspective of the Japanese.) And I would have liked a scene in 13 Hours that depicted the Libyans who tried to save the life of Christopher Stevens. Oh, and the subtitle “The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi” is kind of dumb; Bay must have come to the same conclusion because that subtitle doesn’t even appear with the main title in the movie’s opening credits. However, these criticisms aside, I heartily recommend 13 Hours to anyone who appreciates an exciting and patriotic war movie that showcases American fortitude—and does not have a stupid love triangle in it. This film deserves far more love than it received from critics and audiences, and Bay would do himself a world of good if he devoted his time undertaking projects more like 13 Hours and less like Transformers.




The Believer (2001)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


It is a sad reality that any group of people which suffers from oppression usually contains members who hate being part of the oppressed group and yearn to belong to the group doing the oppressing, and Jews are certainly no exception to this rule. Anti-Semitism is the world’s oldest hatred, and one that has produced centuries of bigotry, discrimination, violence, and even genocide, so it should hardly come as a surprise that Jews who loathe their Jewish identity have been around for as long as this hatred has existed. Indeed, anti-Semites of Jewish origin have caused or contributed to some of history’s worst instances of anti-Semitism. For example, there was the case of Count Anton Arco-Valley, an Austrian-born German and World War I veteran who lived in the city of Munich, which at that time was a hotbed of radical activity on both the Left and Right. After he was denied membership in the Far-Right, anti-Semitic Thule Society in 1919 because his mother was Jewish, Arco-Valley, embittered by this rejection and filled with self-hatred toward his Jewish roots, sought to prove himself “worthy” by assassinating Kurt Eisner, a prominent Jewish Socialist politician. For his crime, which made him a celebrity to the extreme Right (including future leaders of the Nazi Party like Josef Goebbels), Arco-Valley served just five years at Landsberg Prison and lived in a comfortable cell. (However, during his incarceration, he was forced to give up that cell to a newly-arrived prisoner. Like Arco-Valley, the prisoner was a deeply anti-Semitic Rightwing radical and native Austrian who had served in the German Army during World War I and made Munich his home. However, unlike Arco-Valley, this man was definitely not of Jewish origin. His name was Adolf Hitler, and he would spend his time at Landsberg writing Mein Kampf, his infamous anti-Semitic screed.) Around this same time in Germany, a prominent journalist and Jewish convert to Roman Catholicism named Paul Nikolaus Cossmann promoted the infamous “stab-in-the-back” myth—which argued that Jews and Socialists were to blame for Germany’s defeat in World War I—from the pages of Süddeutsche Monatshefte, a popular magazine he founded and edited. After Hitler came to power, Cossmann’s Rightwing views, adopted faith, and “physical aversion to everything Jewish” did not protect him from the Nazis’ particular brand of anti-Semitism. During World War II, he was deported to a concentration camp, where he became just one of the 5-6 million Jewish victims of the Holocaust; Cossmann may have lived as a Christian, but he was born a Jew and died as one. Arco-Valley, however, managed to avoid this fate, mainly because the Nazis had designated him a “hero of the movement” for murdering Eisner and—unlike Cossmann—he was only half-Jewish.

When it comes to oppressed groups, Jews are unique in that, at least in terms of physical appearance, most of them resemble Gentiles. This is a “privilege” that members of other oppressed groups often do not possess. For example, barring some extremely rare exceptions, Blacks could never join the Ku Klux Klan or a similar organization dedicated to White Supremacist ideology. But the ability to conceal one’s Jewish identity makes it possible for a Jew to join an anti-Semitic organization. In the past, some Jews have done this in the role of infiltrator in order to combat anti-Semitism. However, a few Jews have taken this course of action out of sincere conviction. For instance, during the 1960’s, Dan Burros, a troubled young Jewish man from New York City, became a member of the American Nazi Party (ANP) and even served as the editor of its newsletter, Stormtrooper. After a break with ANP founder and leader George Lincoln Rockwell, Burros joined the United Klans of America and became a Kleagle (recruiter). But when a New York Times reporter named John Phillips wrote an exposé piece on Burros and outed him as a Jew, he took his own life. (Burros wasn’t the only person of Jewish ancestry to become a member of the ANP during the sixties. Another young man named Leonard Holstein, who was half-Jewish, joined the group and even earned the Order of Adolf Hitler award.) Burros’ bizarre and tragic life story became the inspiration for a 2001 film called The Believer, which was directed by Henry Bean.

The protagonist of The Believer is Daniel “Danny” Balint, a young Jewish man from New York City who is incredibly bright and articulate but filled with self-hatred. As the opening credits roll, we see a flashback of Danny, then a pre-adolescent boy, attending yeshiva. During a discussion on the “Binding of Isaac,” Danny gets into an argument with Rabbi Stanley Nadelman, his teacher. (For readers unfamiliar with the “Binding of Isaac,” a story from the Hebrew Bible, here is the plot: God orders Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, the firstborn son of Abraham and his wife Sarah, on Mount Moriah. Abraham dutifully obeys and ties the hapless Isaac to an altar, but just as he’s about to slay his son, the Angel of the Lord appears and tells him to sacrifice a ram instead.) Rabbi Nadelman says the “Binding of Isaac” is about Abraham’s undaunted faith in God, but a disgusted Danny contends that the story is really about God’s omnipotent power, which he uses to force humans to obey him no matter what. The argument between Danny and Nadelman grows heated until the boy runs out of the yeshiva, never to return, and this incident sets him on a path that will lead to radical anti-Semitism.

Flashforward to present-day. Danny, now a neo-Nazi skinhead, and some of his neo-Nazi friends attend a meeting hosted by a pair of Fascists named Lina Moebius and Curtis Zampf. During the meeting, Danny spews out a torrent of vile anti-Semitic propaganda and calls for targeting prominent Jews for death, beginning with a New York investment banker named Ilio Manzetti. Lina and Curtis, who wish to mainstream their Fascist ideology, reject Danny’s proposal. However, the pair are impressed with his intellect and communication skills, so when the meeting is over, they invite Danny to a rural compound that they own in Upstate New York. Danny is also introduced to Lina’s daughter Carla, and a romance between the two of them develops. A few days later, Danny is contacted by Guy Danielsen, a reporter specializing in hate groups, and the two of them meet at a diner. After Guy interviews Danny about his neo-Nazi beliefs, he tells the young man that he has spoken with Rabbi Nadelman and is aware of Danny’s Jewish identity. This disclosure causes a frightened and angry Danny to produce a pistol and threaten to kill himself if Guy ever goes public with this information.

When Danny goes to Lina and Curtis’ rural compound, he becomes acquainted with other skinheads, including Kyle, an explosives expert, and Drake, a skilled marksman. A few days later, Danny and his friends visit a kosher deli and start a fight with the owner and one of his employees. They all wind up in court, and a judge orders the neo-Nazis to attend a therapy session with a group of Holocaust survivors, who discuss their experiences. When one of the survivors, an elderly man, tells how a German soldier impaled his toddler son with a bayonet right before his eyes, Danny grows angry and berates him for doing nothing while his child was being murdered. Another survivor tells Danny that he would have reacted the same way in the same situation, but he refuses to listen and stalks out. (Afterward, Danny becomes obsessed with the survivor’s tale and imagines himself in the role of both the Jewish father and the Nazi soldier.) Later that evening, Danny and his friends sneak into an empty synagogue and vandalize the place, and Kyle plants a bomb underneath the bema. But when the other neo-Nazis rip and defile a Torah scroll, Danny chastises them. He secretly takes the scroll and a Jewish prayer shawl home with him and wears the latter under his shirt.

The following day, to the great disappointment of the neo-Nazis, the bomb turns out to be a dud, but Drake offers Danny a chance to assassinate Manzetti, and he accepts. The pair take a sniper rifle and go to a Jewish temple where their target is expected to be. However, when Manzetti emerges from the building, Danny takes a shot and misses. A furious Drake suddenly discovers Danny’s prayer shawl and realizes that he is a Jew, but Danny shoots him with the rifle and gets away. The following day, Danny meets with Lina and Curtis, and they tell him about their plans to bring their Fascist movement out of the shadows and into the mainstream. Because of his intellect and oratorical skills, the pair ask Danny to speak at fundraisers. He agrees to do this but is unhappy about it. When Danny speaks before a gathering of prospective Fascist donors, he decides to mess with the minds of his audience by espousing, to everyone’s shock and horror, his theory that the only way to truly annihilate the Jews is to “love them.” Afterward, Lina and Curtis, who are both enraged, tell him he is no longer welcome in their movement, but then all three of them learn that Ilio Manzetti has been murdered. Lina thinks Danny did it because he had advocated for the investment banker’s assassination when they first met, but the killer turns out to be Drake.

Danny and Carla grow closer, and one day she discovers the Torah scroll when the two of them are at his house. Carla asks him to teach her Jewish religious customs and to read and write Hebrew on the pretext that you should “know your enemy”, so Danny gives her instruction. While he is in a Jewish bookstore, Danny runs into Stuart, a former classmate from the yeshiva, and Miriam, the woman Stuart is engaged to. Believing that Danny is an antiracist skinhead, they invite him to a Rosh Hashanah service at a Jewish community center, but during the event, another former Yeshiva classmate named Avi informs everyone what kind of skinhead Danny actually is. Afterward, Miriam, who desires to keep Danny from being convicted for the murder of Manzetti, attempts to get him to secretly record Lina and Curtis, but he’s unwilling to do this.

Shortly before Yom Kippur, Danny and Kyle install another bomb underneath the bema of the community center. Then Guy Danielson publishes a newspaper article that reveals Danny’s Jewish background. During the Yom Kippur service, Danny goes back to the center and is shocked to find Carla there. After she ignores his pleas for her to leave, he convinces Stuart, who is supposed to lead the prayers, to let him do it instead. After reading from the prayerbook, Danny sees the clock on the wall and realizes that it’s almost time for the bomb to go off. He tells everyone about the bomb, and Carla, Stuart, Miriam, and the others scramble out of the community center, but Danny remains behind and is killed in the explosion. In a post-death scene, Danny is walking up the stairwell of his childhood yeshiva, and he sees Rabbi Nadelman standing on the landing. Nadelman tries to get Danny to resume their past discussion on the “Binding of Isaac,” but he ignores the rabbi and keeps climbing the stairs, only to discover another flight of steps and another landing with the rabbi on it…and another and another…into infinity.

The Believer premiered at the Sundance Film Festival on January 19, 2001 but wasn’t released nationwide until May 17, 2002 because director Henry Bean had difficulty finding a studio willing to distribute his movie due to its controversial subject matter. The Believer received a generally positive reception from professional critics, with most of the praise directed at Ryan Gosling, who portrays Danny Balint. For instance, the Chicago Sun-Times’ Roger Ebert awarded the film three stars out of four and called Gosling “a powerful young actor.” And while he felt “the movie is better at portraying Danny's daily reality than at making sense of his rebellion” and that it “needs more clarity and focus,” Ebert praised Bean’s dedication and said The Believer should inspire thoughtful discussion. In her review for Entertainment Weekly, Lisa Schwarzbaum also gave qualified praise for The Believer, writing, “Bean’s commitment to serious theological examination is exciting, Gosling’s performance is riveting, and this fiery and imperfect feature shines as a demonstration of independent filmmaking at its most uncompromising.” However, Kevin Thomas, film critic for the Los Angeles Times, was much harsher. He called Gosling “electrifying and terrifyingly convincing” but thought the movie as a whole “tends to be all effect and no cause.” The Believer wasn’t nominated for any Oscars, but it won some film festival awards, including the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, and was nominated for several Independent Spirit Awards. Unsurprisingly, when The Believer was released in theaters, audiences largely stayed away; the film grossed just $1.3 million against a $1.5 million budget. The Believer currently enjoys a healthy 83 percent on Rotten Tomatoes but remains unknown to most people. The reaction from Jewish organizations appears to have been mixed. For example, after the premiere at Sundance, Bean screened The Believer for the Simon Wiesenthal Center and received a negative reaction; however, the Anti-Defamation League gave the movie glowing praise.

In the opinion of this writer, The Believer is flawed but also captivating and courageous. It’s one thing to make a movie about anti-Semitism; it’s quite another to make a movie about Jewish anti-Semitism. Henry Bean, himself an observant Jew, has crafted an impressive directorial debut, and the inner battle raging inside Danny Balint’s soul between his love and hatred for Judaism is utterly fascinating to watch. Much of the credit, of course, belongs to Ryan Gosling, one of my favorite actors. The Believer was Gosling’s very first movie, and the raw power and energy in his performance is incredible to behold. Edward Norton, another favorite of mine, gave a similarly powerful portrayal of a neo-Nazi skinhead in American History X and received a richly deserved Oscar nomination for Best Actor; however, Gosling also deserved an acting nomination for The Believer, and it’s a travesty that he didn’t get one. Gosling has gone on to deliver terrific performances in films such as Drive, La La Land, and Blade Runner 2049, but I feel that he did his best work in The Believer. The other cast members are good, though none of them stand out like Gosling. He doesn’t get much screen time, but I enjoyed seeing Billy Zane as Curtis Zampf. Zane has appeared in some of the most popular movies of the 1980’s and 1990’s, including Back to the Future and Titanic, and from what I understand, he deserves some credit for helping The Believer get made. Summer Phoenix, the younger sister of actor Joaquin Phoenix, is good as Carla, who—like Danny—uses anti-Semitism as a means to conceal her interest in Judaism.

Bean’s film is filled with powerful and sometimes disturbing moments. The flashback involving the yeshiva of Danny’s childhood and the debate over the “Binding of Isaac,” which opens The Believer and is gradually fleshed out as the movie unfolds, is insightful and does a decent job of explaining his turn toward anti-Semitic self-hatred. For Danny, Abraham and his son Isaac represent the Jewish people, whom he views as weak and helpless, while God represents Gentiles such as the Nazis, who are strong and wield total power over the Jews—and Danny longs to be on the side of the powerful. He admires Hitler and the Nazis because of their ruthless strength and deep attachment to their German homeland and loathes the Jews for being (in his eyes) nomadic “wanderers” who destroy traditional societies by foisting modernity and cosmopolitanism upon them. But most of all, he hates Jews for their perceived passivity. Earlier in this piece, I discussed the therapy session where Danny gets angry at a Holocaust survivor for doing nothing while his son was being murdered by a Nazi soldier. There is also a scene at the beginning of the movie in which Danny stalks and physically assaults a yarmulke-wearing Jewish boy who is coming home from yeshiva. After punching the boy to the ground, Danny practically begs his victim to get up and fight back and is enraged when the latter fails to do so.

The scene where Danny and his friends break into the synagogue and the one which shows him repairing the desecrated Torah scroll shortly afterward are crucial because they mark the point at which his love of the Jewish faith is kindled. And I especially liked the movie’s final scene in which Danny finds himself endlessly climbing the same flight of steps at his childhood yeshiva because it signifies that the inner conflict between his love and hatred of Judaism will never be resolved. I have seen The Believer numerous times, but when I watched it for this retrospective review, one thing I noticed (and which I’ve never heard anyone else mention before) is that Danny’s anti-Semitism isn’t just an act of defiance against Jews and Judaism but one against Gentiles, especially anti-Semites. There’s a scene early in the movie where Danny is in his father’s basement going through some personal things, and his sister Linda appears. When she sees the giant black swastika emblazoned on Danny’s T-shirt, she cries, “Ah, Jesus Christ, Danny, how can you wear that thing? You know what it means? To your people...” Danny interrupts her, saying, “They’re not my people.” When Linda replies, “Tell it to Hitler,” Danny says, “Oh, he decides? Hitler’s the chief rabbi now?” For Danny, embracing neo-Nazism is the ultimate middle finger to Jew-haters. Also, in the scene with Linda, there’s a snippet of dialogue that was cut from The Believer (but which appears in the screenplay) where she asks Danny if he wears the swastika T-shirt because a group of Polish-American boys who attended Catholic school used to jump him on his way to and from yeshiva when he was a child, and Danny denies this ever happened. In my opinion, it was a mistake for Bean to leave this dialogue out of the finished film because it provides some insight into Danny’s motivations. The omitted dialogue also reminds the viewer of Danny’s assault on the Jewish boy at the beginning of the movie, and it’s revealing that this boy looks a lot like the younger version of Danny that we see in the flashback scenes. Ergo, when Danny attacks that yeshiva student, he is really attacking his former self.

One problem I have with The Believer is the same one many film critics complained about, which is that—aside from the flashback showing Danny’s argument with Rabbi Nadelman—we don’t get to learn anything about his background. I would have loved to see more of Danny’s Jewish upbringing and a fuller picture of his personal journey toward neo-Nazism. Also, the scenes between Danny and Miriam appear to hint at some kind of past romantic attraction but, regrettably, this is never explored. Furthermore, the movie’s failure to examine what I believe is anti-Semitism’s most unique quality—namely, it’s paradoxical nature—is its biggest missed opportunity. Unlike other oppressed groups, who suffer from stereotypes that are harmful but at least consistent, stereotypes of Jews often tend to be bizarrely contradictory. In the eyes of anti-Semites, Jews are greedy Capitalists but also ideological Communists (or Socialists); Jews practice self-segregation in order to maintain racial and religious purity but also push integration, multiculturalism, and miscegenation; Jews stubbornly cling to ancient customs but also encourage modernity; Jews are physically weak internationalists who seek to dominate the world through intellectual and economic power but are also strong, ruthless Nationalists who share an unbreakable attachment to their ancestral home in the Middle East. The Believer brings up these contradictions in anti-Semitism but doesn’t adequately address them.

For example, during the scene in which Danny is interviewed by Guy Danielsen, the reporter brings up the Jews in Israel after Danny rails about how “the Jew doesn’t have soil.” Danny replies that the Israelis “aren’t Jews” and says, “They no longer need Judaism because they have soil.” While I understand the logic of what Danny is saying here, this scene just doesn’t work for me. Generally speaking, anti-Semites don’t have a problem viewing Israeli Jews as real Jews. Later in the film, when Danny speaks to a group of Fascist donors, he briefly mentions anti-Semitism’s contradictions, saying, “Why do we hate them [the Jews]? Do we hate them because they push their way in where they don't belong? Or because they're clannish and keep to themselves…Because they're Bolsheviks or because they're capitalists? Do you want to know the real reason we hate them? Because we hate them. Because they exist.” As was the case with the earlier scene regarding Danny’s views of the Israelis, I feel that this one sidesteps the paradox of anti-Semitism. In another scene, Danny tells his fellow anti-Semites, “If Hitler had not existed, the Jews would have invented him.” I think that statement could easily be inverted to read, “If the Jew had not existed, the anti-Semite would have invented him.” In my view, the contradictions inherent in anti-Semitism are a result of its unique malleability, which helps explain why Jews have served as the perfect scapegoat in so many lands across so many centuries; ultimately, Jews can be whatever the anti-Semite wants—or needs—them to be.

In spite of its flaws, The Believer is a cinematic powerhouse and one that I would recommend to anyone who appreciates intelligent, thought-provoking films. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t note here that The Believer isn’t just some obscure movie loosely based on a story from the past; it also turned out to be eerily prescient. In 2007, barely half a decade after the film was released, media outlets around the world reported on the rise of neo-Nazis in Israel—the last place anyone would expect such people to appear in. Ethnically speaking, many of these neo-Nazis, who tended to be young men, were anywhere from a quarter to fully Jewish and had emigrated to Israel from Russia. Their embrace of neo-Nazism was the result of growing up in a deeply anti-Semitic country while lacking a traditional Jewish upbringing as well as a feeling of anger and alienation stemming from a failure to adjust to a new society. Like their extremist counterparts elsewhere, the Israeli neo-Nazis spread anti-Semitic propaganda online, praised Hitler and the original Nazis, vandalized Jewish institutions, and physically attacked religious Jews, foreign workers, and homosexuals. These disturbing real-life incidents demonstrate the relevance of a movie like The Believer, which shows how hate can turn its victims into haters.




Betrayed (1988)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


Given the thousands of American movies that have been produced since Hollywood was first established as the hub of the film industry in the United States at the beginning of the 20th Century, it’s perhaps inevitable that, for various reasons, the vast majority of movies released in any given year are going to disappear down cinema’s memory hole. However, many neglected films deserve to be plucked out of obscurity and receive praise or at least renewed attention from professional critics and the wider public. Some forgotten movies deserve to be rediscovered because they are legitimately great works of cinema. Others may not exactly be works of art but deal with issues that have gained salience in our current time and thus possess a greater degree of relevance than they did when first released. One such film is Betrayed, which was made by Costa-Gavras, a Greek-French director and a self-described “Sartrean Marxist” who specializes in movies about Rightwing dictatorships and movements.

Betrayed tells the story of Catherine Weaver, a female FBI agent who goes undercover to infiltrate a violent White Supremacist organization operating out of the rural Midwest and suspected of carrying out the recent assassination of a prominent Liberal Jewish talk radio host in Chicago, Illinois. Acting under the alias Katie Phillips, Weaver meets Gary Simmons, a prime suspect in the killing, but instead of discovering a hardcore extremist, she sees a local farmer with an affable personality. In addition to being a decorated Vietnam War veteran, Simmons is a divorcee with two small children, and they appear to be living the kind of idyllic Middle American existence that one might see depicted in a Norman Rockwell painting. At first, Weaver is convinced that the FBI is after the wrong guy, and she allows herself to fall in love with Simmons and even goes to bed with him. But it isn’t long before Weaver’s new boyfriend reveals himself to be less Norman Rockwell and more George Lincoln Rockwell. Because he loves Weaver, Simmons throws caution to the wind and exposes her to his secret life, which includes espousing odious White Supremacist and anti-Semitic beliefs and taking part in a horrifying act of racial terror. At the first opportunity, an anguished Weaver gets into contact with Michael Carnes, her boss and mentor (and ex-lover), and pleads for him to pull her out of the undercover operation. But Carnes, angry at Weaver for sleeping with the enemy, coldly refuses and appeals to her sense of duty. So she again descends into the White Supremacist underworld and plays the part of Simmons’ girlfriend while gathering intelligence on him and his group. But Weaver has to deal with her battling emotions (love of Simmons versus love of country) while living under the constant danger of having her true identity exposed.

When Betrayed was released in the U.S. on August 26, 1988, it received largely negative reviews from professional critics. Although many of them praised the performances of lead actors Debra Winger and Tom Berenger, who play Weaver and Simmons respectively, they lambasted the screenplay by Joe Eszterhas—best known for penning erotic thrillers like Jagged Edge and Basic Instinct—and accused the plot of being ludicrously implausible. In his review, in which he awarded the film just two stars out of four, the Chicago Sun-Times’ Roger Ebert wrote that “Winger and Berenger form a sympathetic couple right from the start” and called Eszterhas’ plot “cleverly constructed” though “heavy-handed.” He also wrote, “Here were people I believed in, involved in a story that no one could believe in.” In her review of Betrayed, the New York Times’ Janet Maslin said this of the film: “The final impression is that someone has drawn out an elephant gun, loaded heavy ammunition, taken aim, and somehow shot himself in the foot.” Maslin argued that aspects of the plot, such as Weaver being in love with Simmons even after being exposed to his heinous actions and beliefs and the FBI putting a young, inexperienced female agent in a situation like Weaver’s and forcing her to remain there when she desperately wants out, were not believable. Maslin also criticized the fact that neither of the major characters undergoes any significant change in their thinking. The Washington Post’s Rita Kempley called Betrayed “involving and controversial” but also said the plot was “riddled with holes.” The Los Angeles Times’ Sheila Benson noted the implausibility of Simmons bringing Weaver into his home and family and introducing her to his hidden world of hatred after only knowing her for a few days and weeks. Even critics who rendered a positive verdict of Betrayed, such as Ebert’s sparring partner Gene Siskel, acknowledged that the movie had flaws. Audiences didn’t react to Betrayed much more favorably than the critics; the movie grossed just $25 million in the U.S. on a $19 million budget. (I couldn’t locate any overseas earnings for Betrayed, but I seriously doubt the movie turned a profit.) Suffice to say, Betrayed received virtually no awards recognition. The film currently enjoys a terrible 38 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes and—as indicated above—has largely disappeared from view.

While I don’t agree with his radical Leftwing politics, Costa-Gavras is a phenomenal director. His 1969 thriller Z is one of the best political films ever made, and Missing, released in 1982, is good though not great. I would be the first to admit that when it comes to movies about law enforcement officers going undercover to catch dangerous criminals, Betrayed is nowhere near as exciting as, say, Martin Scorsese’s Oscar-winning The Departed. But while Betrayed is far from being Costa-Gavras’ finest work, it is nonetheless a decent and tense thriller. Yes, aspects of Eszterhas’ story are implausible, but I would argue that some of them were necessary, or at least normal movie plot devices. For instance, in the real world, Weaver’s superiors would almost certainly pull her out of their undercover operation when they learned about her divided loyalties and the peril she was in, but if that had happened, the movie would have been over pretty quickly. Weaver’s romantic feelings for Simmons, which continue even after learning of his hideous nature, may not be entirely convincing, but, from a storytelling point of view, the inner conflict between her love for this man and duty to her country provides an added layer of suspense. (By the way, this is neither here nor there, but when I watched the scene where Weaver hops into the sack with the White Supremacist, I was reminded of what Marion Barry, an African-American politician who served as the mayor of Washington, D.C., once said about David Duke, the former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan: “The only thing we have in common is that we're both wizards under the sheets.”) And while Simmons makes Weaver a de facto member of his family and exposes her to his White Supremacist world in a ridiculously short amount of time, such abbreviated timeframes often feature in movie plots. For example, in Kevin Reynolds’ 2002 adaptation of Alexandre Dumas’ classic adventure novel The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantès, the protagonist, exacts his long-planned revenge upon the three men who falsely accused him of treason and got him incarcerated in the notorious Château d'If prison, rekindles his romance with the woman he was engaged to before he was sent away, and discovers the son he never knew he had during the course of a period that lasts something like 12 hours. And while it’s true that the FBI would probably not put a young, inexperienced female agent in a highly dangerous situation like the one depicted in Betrayed, it’s important to remember that in Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs, beloved by critics and audiences alike, Jodie Foster’s character hunts for a serial killer with the help of another serial killer, and she’s only an FBI trainee—not even a full-fledged agent like Catherine Weaver.

Also, Betrayed is greatly aided by a terrific cast. Debra Winger has always been one of my favorite actresses, and she has delivered Oscar-worthy performances in films such as An Officer and a Gentleman, Terms of Endearment, and Shadowlands. As FBI agent Catherine Weaver, Winger does a good job portraying the inner conflict between the personal and professional aspects of her character. Although I don’t love Tom Berenger as much as I love Winger, he is a fine actor, and I’ll always cherish his bravura performance in Oliver Stone’s Platoon. And in the role of Gary Simmons, Berenger is convincing as someone who initially appears to be a loving, patriotic family man but later reveals himself to be a hateful monster. Michael Carnes, Weaver’s superior and ex-lover, is probably the weakest character in Betrayed, but I still enjoy seeing John Heard, an actor I’ve always liked, in this role. I also like Albert Hall as FBI agent Al Sanders, Weaver and Carnes’ colleague; Hall has also done good work in movies such as Apocalypse Now and Malcolm X. Ted Levine, who would go on to play the serial killer Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs, is convincing here as a particularly nasty member of Simmons’ White Supremacist group who suspects that Weaver is not what she claims to be. And John Mahoney, a gifted actor who I love best for his role as Martin Crane in the television sitcom Frasier, plays a White Supremacist named Shorty, an elderly man who has lost everything, including his son, and might have been a kind, decent person under different circumstances.

With all that being said, despite my liking for Betrayed, I feel that it missed a real opportunity to ratchet up the suspense. Near the end of the film, Weaver realizes that the White Supremacists have a mole inside the FBI, but this development is never followed up. If Eszterhas had put this key revelation near the beginning of Betrayed, then it would have heightened Weaver’s peril and created a gripping race-against-time scenario in which she has to complete her task of obtaining the evidence that will bring down Simmons and his organization before the mole at the FBI divulges her true identity to the White Supremacists. Also, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that there’s a scene in Betrayed which has always bothered me. Early in the movie, Simmons and his comrades abduct a young Black man in the middle of the night and hunt and kill him for sport. While I understand that Costa-Gavras put this scene in the movie in order to show how evil the White Supremacist characters are, I’ve always found it incredibly distasteful.

Putting Betrayed’s strengths and weaknesses aside, its subject matter is what makes the movie important for our current time. Although Betrayed is a work of fiction, the character of Gary Simmons and his group were loosely based upon a man named Robert Jay Matthews and a White Supremacist, anti-government organization that he co-founded called The Order. Matthews and his group were inspired by William L. Pierce’s 1978 dystopian novel The Turner Diaries, which tells the story of a group of White Supremacists who launch a revolution that destroys the federal government and annihilates all Jews and people of color. Members of The Order carried out armed bank robberies to raise money and shot a Liberal Jewish radio talk show host named Alan Berg to death—events that are depicted in Betrayed. (Berg’s murder was also portrayed in another 1988 film, Oliver Stone’s Talk Radio.) The movie makes several references to the American farm crisis of the 1980’s, which provided fertile recruiting ground for White Supremacists, and the pastor at the church Gary Simmons and his family attend appears to preach beliefs associated with Christian Identity, a religious movement that espouses White Supremacist and anti-Semitic teachings. From a political perspective, it’s interesting to note that Betrayed was a collaboration between Costa-Gavras, a radical Leftist, and Joe Eszterhas, a Republican. (There’s a scene in the movie where Weaver is being debriefed by Carnes and Sanders, and she rejects the notion that Simmons is a Rightwing extremist. At one point, she says, “You want something? I’ll give you something. He [Simmons] named his dog after Ronald Reagan,” to which Sanders replies, “Well, at least he ain’t all bad.” I’m guessing that was Eszterhas talking; I doubt it was Costa-Gavras.)

The 1980’s was a period that witnessed the ascendancy of not just traditional, mainstream Conservativism in America but also the radical Right. And the rise of the White Nationalist movement and the radical, anti-government Right in recent years makes Betrayed far more relevant now than it was back in 1988. The crimes committed by The Order over three decades ago and depicted in the film were horrific enough, but they pale in comparison to those carried out by the Far Right in the years since Betrayed was first released. These include: the 1995 bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, which resulted in the deaths of 168 people and remains the worst act of domestic terrorism on American soil; the 1999 shooting at a Jewish community center in Los Angeles, California in which children were targeted and five wounded; the 2015 shooting at a church in Charleston, South Carolina in which a White Supremacist murdered a Black pastor and eight Black parishioners; the 2017 “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, which featured Neo-Nazis, Klansmen, and other members of the radical Right and resulted in the deaths of three people; the 2018 shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, which resulted in the killing of 11 Jewish parishioners and is the deadliest act of anti-Semitic violence in American history; the 2019 shooting at a Walmart store in El Paso, Texas in which a Rightwing extremist targeted Hispanics and wound up killing 23 people. Given the fact that Costa-Gavras is still alive, I’m surprised he hasn’t made a movie about current radical Right groups and individuals and their more recent atrocities. Perhaps he will before he dies. In the meantime, I’m recommending Betrayed to anyone who likes a good—albeit flawed—thriller with an important message that resonates today.




Reds (1981)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


Throughout its history, the American film industry has usually reflected the society in which it exists, and the 1980’s was no exception. After the turbulent 1960’s and 1970’s, which witnessed the downfall of the once-dominant Liberal order that began with President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal and reached its apogee with President Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society, Conservativism enjoyed an ascendancy in American politics and culture, and nothing signified this development more than the two landslide election victories of Ronald Reagan, a former movie actor, in 1980 and 1984. Reagan’s presidency, which nearly spanned the entirely of the Eighties, ushered in transformative change and political realignment that favored the Republican Party that he led and Conservatives generally. Hollywood, where the Gipper worked and lived for nearly three decades, followed suit and released a wave of films containing Conservative messages and themes.

Some of these movies, such as Ghostbusters, extoled the virtues of individualism and the free market while contrasting them with inefficient, overbearing, and counterproductive government bureaucracy. Others, such as Back to the Future, elicited feelings of nostalgia for a bygone Conservative era (the 1950’s in this case). And many movies presented a patriotic, often jingoistic, view of the United States’ decades-long conflict with the Soviet Union—which Reagan himself aptly called the “Evil Empire”—and the rest of the Communist Bloc. Some of the most popular pro-American, anti-Communist films from the Eighties include Red Dawn, Top Gun, and the second and third entries in the Rambo series. Suffice to say, this probably wasn’t an ideal time or environment in which to make a sympathetic cinematic depiction of the Bolshevik Revolution—let alone one that ran more than three hours long. Yet that’s precisely what actor/filmmaker Warren Beatty did with Reds. Released at the dawn of the Reagan Era, Reds focuses on the passionate and frequently turbulent romance between American journalists and radical Leftwing political activists John Reed and Louise Bryant; the pair covered the 1917 October Revolution, in which Russian Communists overthrew the Russian republic that had replaced the monarchy of Czar Nicholas II, who had abdicated his throne during the 1917 February Revolution. (Reed wrote about the October Revolution in his famous book Ten Days that Shook the World. Bryant also wrote about her experiences covering this epochal event in the lesser-known Six Red Months in Russia.)

The film begins two years earlier when the couple first meet in Portland, Oregon. Bryant, a feminist who’s bored and frustrated with her humdrum life, leaves her husband and travels with Reed to New York, where the two settle in Greenwich Village. There she becomes acquainted with Reed’s activist and artist friends, most notably the feisty Anarchist Emma Goldman and the alcoholic playwright Eugene O’Neill. The couple then move to Massachusetts, and Reed, anxious to bring about radical change, throws himself into labor activism and leaves to report on the 1916 Democratic National Convention. While he is away, Bryant has an affair with O’Neill, and when Reed learns about it upon his return home, he expresses his deep love for Bryan by proposing to her, and she accepts.

Now a married couple, they move back to New York and make a home in the village of Croton-on-Hudson. However, the two of them have incompatible goals and desires, and the growing tensions erupt one evening when Reed confesses to having dalliances with several women not named Louise Bryant. This revelation causes an infuriated Bryant to leave him and sail for Europe to cover the First World War on the Western Front. After spending some time in jail due to his unionizing efforts and having one of his kidneys removed, Reed goes to Western Europe and convinces Bryant to come with him to Russia and report on the historic events unfolding in that country. She agrees, and they witness the aforementioned October Revolution. This experience renews the intimacy between Reed and Bryant because, apparently, nothing revives a defunct romance like the sight of Communists toppling a democratic government.

Upon their return home, Reed becomes a forceful advocate for the adoption of Communism in America, though Bryant is more skeptical, and becomes involved in a dispute in the Socialist Party of America, which breaks up into two factions, the Communist Labor Party of America (co-founded by Reed) and the Communist Party of America. Against Bryant’s wishes, Reed travels to the new Soviet Union to obtain official recognition for his group from the Communist International (Comintern). When he tries to return home via Finland, he’s arrested by Finnish authorities and imprisoned. Bryant attempts to enlist the help of the American government in freeing Reed, but the latter refuses since he’s under indictment for sedition. Frustrated, she decides to go to Finland herself, but when she gets there, she learns that Reed has been released to the Soviets in a prisoner exchange, so she continues on to Russia.

Meanwhile, Reed is employed by the Bolsheviks as a propagandist for the Comintern and lives in Petrograd with Emma Goldman, who has been deported to Russia (her native land) by the U.S. government. While Reed is accompanying Soviet officials on a trip to the city of Baku in Azerbaijan, Bryant arrives in Petrograd. On the return journey from Baku, Reed’s train is attacked by White Russian forces. However, he escapes unharmed and finds Bryant—whom he believed had left him and moved on with her life—waiting at the train station. The two enjoy an emotional reunion, but their happiness is short-lived because Reed soon dies of typhus and leaves his wife mourning at his bedside, and the film informs us that he became one of only three Americans to be interred by the Soviets at the Kremlin Wall Necropolis.

Reds was a labor of love for Beatty, who talked about making the movie as early as 1966. He finished a first draft of the script in 1969 but nearly a decade would pass before the final version was completed. (This was accomplished with the help of several other people, but only the English playwright Trevor Griffiths would receive official credit as Beatty’s co-screenwriter.) Getting any studio to finance Reds would seem like an impossible feat, considering the film’s controversial subject, epic scope and time length, and massive budget. (The final price tag came in at around $33 million, an enormous sum for a movie being made during the late Seventies and early Eighties.) However, the critical and commercial success of 1978’s Heaven Can Wait, for which Beatty performed duties as co-director, producer, lead actor, and co-screenwriter, granted him the clout he needed to convince the execs over at Paramount Pictures, the studio behind the film, to provide financial backing and distribution for Reds. The filming process, which began in late summer 1979, lasted over a year, and editing took nearly that amount of time. Beatty’s commitment to his dream project was so intense that he served as director, producer, lead actor, and screenwriter—much as he had done with his previous movie—and drove his fellow actors crazy by behaving on the set like a megalomaniacal autocrat.

Fortunately for Beatty and his team, all of this effort paid off big time when Reds was released on December 4, 1981. The movie received widespread acclaim from professional critics, who praised many aspects of its production. The end result of Beatty’s passion project was hailed by many as a great cinematic achievement and drew favorable comparisons to the celebrated epics of director David Lean. For example, Vincent Canby, writing for the New York Times, called Reds “an extraordinary film, a big romantic adventure movie, the best since David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia.” Meanwhile, Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times labeled Reds “the thinking man’s Doctor Zhivago.” (In a 2007 piece on the making of Reds, the film historian Peter Biskind hilariously described Beatty’s epic as “the movie David Lean would have made had Gillo Pontecorvo, director of The Battle of Algiers, put a knife to his throat.”) Perhaps somewhat surprisingly, audiences also reacted favorably. Despite its subject matter and running time (Reds was one of the last films to feature an intermission), the movie earned an impressive $40 million at the U.S. box office. And in early 1982, Reds received 12 Academy Award nominations, including one for Best Picture. Beatty also became the only person in Oscar history to twice receive four nominations for the same film. (He was nominated in the directing, producing, acting, and screenwriting categories for both Reds and Heaven Can Wait.) However, when Oscar night arrived, the movie only snagged three awards: Best Director, Best Supporting Actress, and Best Cinematography. (Although Reds was widely favored to win Best Picture, the underdog sports drama Chariots of Fire captured the award in an upset.) Today, Beatty’s epic about the Bolshevik Revolution is still highly regarded, though not as beloved as cinematic classics such as The Godfather and Casablanca. Reds currently holds an impressive 89 precent rating on the movie review aggregate website Rotten Tomatoes and was a nominee for the American Film Institute’s (AFI) “100 Movies…100 Years” list.

Given Reds’ politics, it should come as no surprise that reaction to the film from partisan media outlets fell largely along ideological lines. For instance, Robert Hatch, writing for the Progressive magazine The Nation, called Reds an “impressive work.” In a 2021 retrospective review marking the 40th anniversary of the movie’s release, Jim Poe, a writer for the Socialist magazine Jacobin, praised Reds as “one of the best movies of its era” and wrote that “the film still stands up today as one of the greatest and most faithful depictions of revolutionary politics.” Conversely, John Simon of the Conservative magazine National Review dismissed Reds as “frequently irritating and finally disappointing.” However, it should be noted that Beatty’s Bolsh-epic did have some fans on the Right, and one of these was none other than Ronald Reagan. Beatty had been close friends with the president and First Lady Nancy Reagan—who, like her husband, was a former actor—going all the way back to the couple’s Hollywood days, and he screened Reds for them at the White House. (Interestingly, the screening came at the Gipper’s request, not Beatty’s.) When the film was over, the 40th president, an anti-Communist hero to the Right, told Beatty that he liked Reds but expressed regret that it didn’t have a happy ending. Also, in a 2017 retrospective review, National Review writer Kyle Smith praised the movie and called it “a warning about the folly of utopian thinking and an inquiry into how Bolshevism went so spectacularly wrong.”

I am a Center-Right Conservative who considers the now-defunct Soviet Union to be—along with Nazi Germany—the most evil, tyrannical, and murderous regime in human history. As such, I detest Reds’ radical Leftwing politics and sympathetic view of the birth of the U.S.S.R. and its American Communist champions like John Reed and Louise Bryant. However, as a cinephile, I consider Reds to be one of the greatest historical/romantic epics to ever come out of Hollywood—right up there with Gone with the Wind. Politics aside, I’m just crazy about this movie. In addition to being a great actor, Warren Beatty is a phenomenal director (his 1990 film Dick Tracy is one of the best comic book adaptations I’ve ever seen), and there’s no doubt in my mind that Reds will always stand as his magnum opus. I’ve always admired filmmakers who put their careers on the line in order to make movies they feel passionate about, even if I disagree with their personal views.

Hollywood has a graveyard filled with passion projects that went horribly wrong (Exhibit A would be Battlefield Earth, John Travolta’s labor of love to Scientology, which surely has its own mausoleum in this forlorn cemetery), but Reds succeeded because of Beatty’s exceptional intelligence, talent, and determination. However, it should be noted that he also had luck and timing on his side, for Reds was made and released at the tail end of the New Hollywood era. This period, which began in the mid-1960’s and ended in the early 1980’s, is widely considered a golden age of filmmaking during which movie studios gave young hotshot directors like Francis Ford Coppola, Steven Spielberg, and Martin Scorsese generous budgets and near-total creative freedom. The result was a flood of cinematic masterpieces, including many films now regarded as among the greatest ever made, such as The Godfather, Taxi Driver, and Apocalypse Now. (Ironically, one of the first films to kick off the New Hollywood was Bonnie and Clyde, which Beatty produced and starred in.) Alas, the massive critical and financial failure of several ambitious, big-budget films, most notably Michael Cimino’s notorious 1980 flop Heaven’s Gate, signaled the twilight of this golden age, but Beatty was able to get Reds greenlit at the close of the 1970’s, and his movie proved to be one of the New Hollywood’s last glorious hurrahs.

Reds has a stellar cast, led by Beatty and Diane Keaton, who play John Reed and Louise Bryant respectively. Though Beatty was clearly enamored with these real-life figures, I appreciate that he resisted the temptation to lionize them. Rather, Beatty presents the couple as idealistic but flawed human beings who get swept up in the seismic historic events unfolding around them. The size and scope of Reds, which runs three hours and fifteen minutes and takes place on two continents, is awesome, but one of this movie’s greatest strengths is that it never loses sight of the close personal intimacy between its central characters. (The reunion scene at the train station in Petrograd that occurs near the end of the film always brings tears to my eyes.) In addition to the Bolshevik Revolution and the beginnings of the Soviet Union, Reds also deals with the United States’ entry into the First World War and the factional conflicts that took place on the American Left during this period. These are enormous and complex subjects for one film to tackle effectively, but Beatty accomplishes this challenging task with skill, in large part because he uses the romance between Reed and Bryant as an anchor to hold the narrative firmly in place and prevent it from going in all different directions.

I’m also fascinated by the paradox of two free-spirited individuals supporting a political movement that ended up destroying both freedom and individuality. And speaking of this couple, I find it interesting that most of the synopses of Reds that I came across during the course of my research for this retrospective review, from sites like Wikipedia and the Internet Movie Database (IMDB), present the movie as being primarily about John Reed, with little or no mention of Louise Bryant. I would argue that Reds, to its great credit, is just as much about Bryant as it is about Reed, and I think this is indicated by the film’s title. When a historical movie is primarily about one person, usually a man, that person’s name is almost always in the title. For instance, David Lean’s biopic about T.E. Lawrence is called Lawrence of Arabia; Richard Attenborough’s biopic about Mahatma Gandhi is called—appropriately enough—Gandhi; Oliver Stone’s biopic about President Richard Nixon is called—you guessed it—Nixon. And yet John Reed’s name is nowhere in the title of Beatty’s epic. Instead, the movie is called Reds, and I believe it’s a reference to both Reed and Bryant. Among the supporting players, the two standouts are Maureen Stapleton as Emma Goldman and Jack Nicholson as Eugene O’Neill. Stapleton, who won the film’s only acting Oscar (Beatty, Keaton, and Nicholson were also nominated for their performances), portrays Goldman as a fiery radical who—as NeoConservative intellectual Irving Kristol might have put it—gets mugged by Bolshevik reality. As for Nicholson, few actors play a cynic and a drunk as well as he does, and his character provides a stark counterweight to the naïve idealism of his friends Reed and Bryant. I also want to note here that Jerzy Kosiński, a Polish author, gives a convincing performance as Grigory Zinoviev, leader of the Comintern, and this is ironic because Kosiński was himself a staunch anti-Communist.

One of the things I love most about Reds is that Beatty intersperses his narrative with clips of interviews from 32 people who were alive during the period in which the movie is set (1915 to 1920, the year of Reed’s death) and knew the film’s two protagonists. These individuals, known simply as “The Witnesses,” include American Communist Party organizer Will Weinstone, author Henry Miller, and New York Republican Congressman Hamilton Fish (a Harvard classmate of John Reed’s), and their recollections are crucial to Reds’ success because they serve as helpful “bridges” that link sections of the narrative together, provide important personal and historical context to the scenes unfolding before the audience, and give the film the feel of a documentary. And all the movie’s elements—such as the acting, script, costumes, etc.—place the viewer squarely in its setting and allows him or her to see events exactly as the characters do.

According to Richard Grenier, who penned a mostly negative review of Reds for the NeoConservative magazine Commentary shortly after the film’s release, in the years following John Reed’s death, a debate raged between Communists, such as the Soviets, who argued that the author of Ten Days that Shook the World remained a loyal comrade until the day he died and anti-Communists, including former Communists like John Reed’s friend Benjamin Gitlow, who maintained that the radical journalist had become disillusioned with the Bolsheviks by the end of his life. I greatly appreciate that Beatty, himself a lifelong Progressive Democrat who has supported Democratic politicians like George McGovern and Bobby Kennedy, chooses to treat this matter with ambiguity. During the second half of Reds, Reed does display some signs of disillusionment, particularly in a scene near the end where he berates Zinoviev after the latter changed a crucial word in a propaganda speech he had written and delivers a brief but inspiring monologue about the need to maintain one’s individuality while simultaneously working for a cause greater than oneself. But then Reed dies shortly afterward, and any questions concerning his continued loyalty to the Soviet cause are left unresolved. (The only character in the movie that signals an impending break with Communism is Emma Goldman, who at one point lambasts the Bolsheviks for enacting harsh measures in order to crush dissent and asks, “Is any nightmare justifiable in the name of defense against counter-revolution?”) One of the most fascinating things about Reds is that it presents a tragic twist on Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. John Reed does indeed venture forth from his common, everyday world and goes on a thrilling adventure in a faraway place, where a great victory is won. But what he seeks to bring home to his fellow man is not a boon but a scourge—and one that brings about countless deaths, including his own.

As is the case with all movies, Reds isn’t perfect, of course, and possesses some flaws. As I indicated above, I dislike the movie’s overall sympathetic treatment of the birth of the Soviet Union and consider it akin to a sympathetic look at the rise of Nazi Germany. Also, the scenes during the second half of Reds portraying factional infighting within the Socialist Party of America grow a bit tedious, and when the film was first released, I suspect that more than a few moviegoers were confused by the argument depicted onscreen over which group should be considered the “true” representative of American Communism, the Communist Party of America or the Communist Labor Party of America. And there’s another scene where John Reed is saying goodbye to Emma Goldman, who has been scheduled for deportation back to Russia, and she requests that he ask a mutual friend of theirs to put a photo of her face in a magazine with the words “Deported in 1919: The government of the most powerful country in the world is afraid of this woman” below it. This scene is disingenuous because it implies that Goldman was just some harmless old woman with radical ideas who was being needlessly persecuted by the Big Bad Government. To be sure, President Woodrow Wilson, a Progressive Democrat, and A. Mitchell Palmer, his attorney general, did commit un-Constitutional excesses and trample on civil liberties in their zeal to go after political radicals, but the movie fails to mention that Goldman, an Anarchist, allegedly incited violence and was involved in a plot to assassinate a factory manager who worked for the Carnegie Steel Company.

However, these criticisms of Reds are minor quibbles that are far outweighed by the movie’s considerable qualities. It goes without saying that a film like Reds could never be made in today’s Hollywood, where studios, which seek to maximize profits and are loath to take significant risks, spend most of their time cranking out conventional, crowd-pleasing blockbusters, sequels, and reboots. Although I think it’s a travesty that Reds didn’t win the Oscar for Best Picture nor make it on either version of the AFI’s “100 Years…100 Movies” list, I’m very grateful that this epic masterpiece got made at all and received critical and commercial success upon release. As Beatty noted during his Oscar acceptance speech following his win for Best Director, the fact that a private company financed a cinematic homage to Communism and Socialism was a tribute to American Capitalism and political freedom, and in the final analysis, that is one of Reds’ greatest ironies and lasting achievements.




The Passion of the Christ (2004)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


The late, great William Goldman—Oscar-winning screenwriter of such enduring film classics as All the President’s Men, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and The Princess Bride—once said “nobody knows anything.” This deceptively simple quote contains more wisdom and insight than at least half of the screenplays that have ever been written. Goldman was talking about the nature of the film industry, and his broader point was that nobody—not studio executives, professional critics, box office analysts nor anyone else—can ultimately predict whether a given movie will sell or not. Goldman’s full quote, taken from a book he wrote called Adventures in the Screen Trade, is “Nobody knows anything…… Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what’s going to work. Every time out it’s a guess and, if you’re lucky, an educated one.” The main takeaway here is that filmmakers should always be faithful to their visions and not surrender to current audience trends or listen to those who think they “know better.” Now, of course, if a director sticks to his or her guns and refuses any compromise, the end result can well be an unmitigated disaster. But, on the other hand, the results can be more successful than anyone ever dreamed—and said director will have the added pleasure of proving the naysayers embarrassingly wrong. You just don’t know. There are few films that illustrate Goldman’s point than Mel Gibson’s 2004 film The Passion of the Christ.

The Passion of the Christ depicts the final 12 hours of the life of Jesus Christ, a.k.a. the Messiah or Son of God, and is based on the New Testament (mainly the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) as well as several extra-Biblical literary sources like The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, which was written by 19th Century German writer Clemens Brentano and based upon the visions of a Catholic nun and mystic named Anne Catherine Emmerich (no relation to Roland). Despite the fact that The Passion of the Christ is an American film, all the dialogue is spoken in three foreign languages—Latin, Aramaic, and Hebrew—with English subtitles. (Reportedly, Gibson originally wanted the film to have no subtitles at all.) The movie opens with Jesus’ arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane in Jerusalem. A group of local guards take him to the Jewish Temple, where he undergoes a trial held by the Sanhedrin (Jewish elders), who are led by a high priest named Caiaphas. After Jesus informs Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin that he is the Son of God, he’s sentenced to death for the crime of blasphemy. Shortly afterward, Judas Iscariot, a disciple of Christ who betrayed him for 30 pieces of silver, is haunted by guilt for his actions and hangs himself from a tree.

Jesus is brought before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judaea, and after interrogating the Messiah, Pilate delivers him over to the court of King Herod Antipas in Jerusalem since Jesus is from Galilee and thus falls under Herod’s jurisdiction. Herod finds Jesus to be innocent and sends him back to Pilate. The Roman governor, who also believes in Christ’s innocence, doesn’t wish to see him executed, so, in accordance with a Passover tradition, he offers the crowd the choice of releasing Jesus or Barabbas, a notorious prisoner convicted of several crimes, including murder. After the crowd shouts for him to free Barabbas and crucify Jesus, Pilate attempts to forestall execution by commanding that the Messiah be whipped instead. After Jesus is brutally scourged by Roman soldiers, who also place a crown of thorns upon his head, he’s returned to Pilate.

Much to the governor’s dismay, the crowd of Jews, led by Caiaphas, continues to call for Barabbas’ release and Jesus’ crucifixion, and a resigned Pilate finally accedes to their demands. Jesus is then made to bear a wooden cross to Calvary, and along the way, he’s cruelly beaten by Roman soldiers, who at one point force a bystander named Simon of Cyrene to help him carry the cross. (During his arduous journey to Calvary, Jesus is also followed by a group of supporters as well as his parents, Joseph and Mary.) When he arrives at his destination, Jesus is nailed to the cross and dies, but not before bestowing salvation upon a repentant criminal who hangs from an adjoining cross. Once Jesus’ soul departs his body, the Jewish Temple is devastated by an earthquake, and after he is buried, the Messiah is resurrected and leaves his tomb; this final scene sets up the upcoming sequel, Passion II: The Revenge of the Christ. (I’m only kidding! Jesus won’t seek vengeance in the sequel—although you never know with Mel Gibson.)

Given this movie’s subject matter, plus the fact that its dialogue is in three foreign languages, including two dead ones, and features no major stars in its cast, it should come as little surprise that when Mel Gibson sought financial backing for his passion project (no pun intended), every studio in Hollywood turned him down. In the end, Gibson and his film company, Icon Productions, had to provide the $45 million required to produce and market The Passion of the Christ. (While filming in Italy, Gibson reportedly saved a good deal of money by reusing sets left over from the production of Martin Scorsese’s 2002 film Gangs of New York. Coincidentally, Scorsese had, years earlier, made his own movie about Jesus, The Last Temptation of Christ.) Gibson also faced difficulty finding a distributor for The Passion of the Christ, although he eventually secured the help of an independent movie company called Newmarket Films for domestic distribution. Partly because of the unusual nature of his film, Gibson eschewed a traditional marketing strategy in favor of a grassroots campaign aimed at Christian—especially Evangelical—leaders and organizations. For instance, in the months leading up to the movie’s official release date, Gibson held a number of private screenings for Christian audiences that were often followed by lengthy Q&A sessions.

Naturally, many media pundits expected The Passion of the Christ to bomb at the box office. For example, Frank Rich, a columnist for the New York Times, spoke for many when he wrote in August 2003 that “It’s hard to imagine the movie being anything other than a flop in America, given that it has no major Hollywood stars and that its dialogue is in Aramaic and Latin.” But when The Passion of the Christ opened on February 25, 2004 (the movie’s release date coincided with Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent), it blew away all expectations by earning nearly $84 million during its first weekend at the domestic box office. (Ironically, this Biblical movie would hold the record for the biggest February debut weekend ever until it was knocked off its pedestal by the erotic romantic drama Fifty Shades of Grey in 2015.) By the end of its initial theatrical run, The Passion of the Christ had grossed $370 million in North America and $612 million around the world; it would remain the highest-grossing R-rated film in domestic markets until the release of Deadpool & Wolverine two decades later. Gibson’s unorthodox marketing strategy ended up paying huge dividends, for the incredible financial success of The Passion of the Christ was largely driven by devout Christians, especially Evangelicals, who flocked to the movie in droves. Many theaters were reserved for entire congregations, and the National Association of Evangelicals sold tickets on its official website. Themes from the movie also found their way into sermons and Christian school curriculums.

Although The Passion of the Christ was the recipient of numerous enthusiastic endorsements from prominent Christian leaders, such as Pastors Rick Warren, Jerry Falwell, Billy Graham, Pat Robertson, and Tim LeHaye, one endorsement became the subject of dispute. On December 17, 2003, Peggy Noonan, Conservative columnist for the Wall Street Journal and former speechwriter for President Ronald Reagan, reported that, according to Stephen McEveety, a co-producer of The Passion of the Christ, Archbishop Stanisław Dziwisz, secretary to Pope John Paul II, informed him that the pontiff had recently viewed a rough cut of the film and said of it afterward: “It is as it was.” That same day, John L. Allen Jr. of the National Catholic Reporter put out a similar story, and on the following day, this news was confirmed by the Associated Press and Reuters, who used their own Vatican sources. However, on Christmas Eve, a Vatican official, speaking under the guise of anonymity, told the Catholic News Service, “The Holy Father does not comment, does not give judgments on art. I repeat: There was no declaration, no judgment from the pope.” On January 9, 2004, Allen wrote an article in which he stood by his earlier story, writing that his source at the Vatican “is adamant that the original story was right — the pope did indeed say, ‘It is as it was.’” On January 18, the New York Times’ Frank Rich alleged that “It is as it was” was being “exploited by the Gibson camp” in a cynical ploy to market The Passion of the Christ. However, Rich didn’t challenge the veracity of the quote itself. This happened later that day when Archbishop Dziwisz informed the Catholic News Service, “The Holy Father told no one his opinion of this film.” The rest of the month witnessed a furious—and somewhat ludicrous—back-and-forth between Vatican officials who denied John Paul II uttered his now-infamous quote after watching The Passion of the Christ and journalists and members of the movie’s production team who claimed they were told by Vatican sources that he did indeed say it, with statements and evidence seemingly pointing in both directions. (As of this writing, it’s still not entirely clear who was telling the truth in this matter.)

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that The Passion of the Christ was a smash hit with Christian audiences. Interestingly, the film also proved popular in the Arab world in spite of its artistic depiction of a man Muslims consider to be a prophet—something verboten in Islam. Although The Passion of the Christ was banned in Kuwait, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia, it attracted large audiences in a number of Muslim countries, including Lebanon, Qatar, Egypt, and Syria. The alleged papal endorsement of the movie may have been contested, but one prominent endorsement that wasn’t in dispute—though was probably less welcome—came from Yasser Arafat, president of the Palestinian National Authority and Chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO). After seeing The Passion of the Christ, the infamous terrorist leader called it “historic and impressive.” Also, an aide of Arafat’s compared the plight of the Messiah in the film to that of his people: “The Palestinians are still daily being exposed to the kind of pain Jesus was exposed to during his crucifixion.” (Although The Passion of the Christ was never officially banned in Israel, it went virtually unseen in the Jewish state since no Israeli distributor would touch it with a 20-foot pole.)

The Passion of the Christ became one of the most controversial movies ever made and ignited a firestorm of criticism. This was largely due to two factors. The first was its alleged anti-Semitic content. Accusations of anti-Semitism were leveled at The Passion of the Christ months before its release. After a copy of the movie’s script was leaked in March 2003, the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), a Jewish organization whose purpose is to combat anti-Semitism, and the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB) teamed up to analyze it and determine if the script contained elements that could be construed as anti-Semitic. To this end, Dr. Eugene Fisher of the USCCB and Rabbi Dr. Eugene Korn convened a panel made up of nine members—five Catholics and four Jews. When this interfaith group finished its work, it reached the conclusion that “a film based on the script they had been shown would promote anti-Semitic sentiments.” According to the panel, The Passion of the Christ’s screenplay fostered anti-Semitic stereotypes and beliefs, especially the one which held that the Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus Christ. The study group also blasted the script’s “significant historical errors” and called Gibson “a fringe Catholic who is building his own church in the Los Angeles area and who apparently accepts neither the teachings of Vatican II nor modern biblical scholarship.” Shortly afterward, the ADL issued a statement accusing Gibson and his upcoming movie of being ignorant (or worse) of how prior depictions of the Passion of Jesus had contributed to anti-Semitic hatred and violence, saying, in part: “Productions such as The Passion could likely falsify history and fuel the animus of those who hate Jews.”

Mel Gibson responded to his critics by saying the script that the USCCB had obtained—which he claimed was stolen—was outdated and that his upcoming movie was “a work in progress.” He also said he was consulting Christian and Jewish scholars and maintained that “Anti-Semitism is not only contrary to my personal beliefs; it is also contrary to the core message of my movie. 'The Passion' is a film meant to inspire, not offend.” Gibson did make some changes to his movie in an effort to tamp down the controversy. For instance, he removed the English subtitles from a crucial scene in which Caiaphas, determined to see Jesus crucified, cries, “His blood [is] on us and on our children!” However, he retained the quote itself and explained his reason for doing so in an interview with the New Yorker: “I wanted it in. My brother said I was wimping out if I didn't include it. But, man, if I included that in there, they'd be coming after me at my house. They'd come to kill me.” And in an interview for the Globe and Mail shortly before the film’s release, Gibson said, “If anyone has distorted Gospel passages to rationalize cruelty towards Jews or anyone, it's in defiance of repeated Papal condemnation. The Papacy has condemned racism in any form...Jesus died for the sins of all times, and I'll be the first on the line for culpability.” However, the criticism and controversy were clearly getting to Gibson. For instance, after the New York Times’ Frank Rich wrote a column in which he claimed the purpose of the famous filmmaker’s promotional campaign for his upcoming movie was to “bait Jews” and “sow religious conflict,” Gibson responded in a most un-Christlike manner: “I want to kill him. I want his intestines on a stick. . . . I want to kill his dog.”

The firestorm continued to grow in the months and weeks leading up to The Passion of the Christ’s opening day. When the ADL’s Rabbi Korn snuck into a screening in August 2003 and viewed a rough cut, he declared, “Those people who are anti-Semitic or bigoted who watch this movie will find that their sense of prejudice and hatred will be strengthened.” After ADL national director Abraham Foxman and other representatives from the organization viewed the finished film in late January 2004, they released a statement claiming, “For those who will see this film, the poisonous accusation that the Jews were responsible for the killing of Jesus will be unambiguous and clear.” The statement also expressed concern that the movie possessed “the potential to adversely affect years of progress in Catholic-Jewish relations and the possibility that it will fuel new anti-Semitism.” A few people went beyond the ADL’s expressed worries and openly predicted that The Passion of the Christ would incite anti-Jewish violence. For instance, Dov Hikind, a New York State assemblyman and New York City Council member who organized a Passion-ate protest in front of a movie theater in Times Square on February 24, 2004, the day before the film opened nationwide, said this after attending a pre-release screening: “I don’t have any doubt this film will cause anti-Semitism. I don’t have any doubt that this film will result in violence.” Also, in a July 2003 piece for the New Republic, Dr. Paula Fredriksen, one of the members of the interfaith panel that reviewed the leaked copy of the script for The Passion of the Christ, expressed her opinion that the movie wouldn’t spark anti-Semitic violence in the U.S. but also wrote, “But I shudder to think how The Passion will play once its subtitles shift from English to Polish, or Spanish, or French, or Russian. When violence breaks out, Mel Gibson will have a much higher authority than professors and bishops to answer to.” And one week before the release of The Passion of the Christ, Hutton Gibson, Mel’s father and an ardent Catholic Traditionalist like his son, further fanned the flames when he expressed doubt concerning the veracity of the Holocaust to a radio interviewer, saying, “It’s all — maybe not all fiction — but most of it is.”

Indeed, the controversy over the film’s alleged anti-Semitism was a major reason why Gibson couldn’t get a major Hollywood studio to release The Passion of the Christ in the U.S. (Twentieth Century Fox initially had a first-look deal with Icon Productions but decided to pass on a chance to distribute the movie in August 2003 after protesters demonstrated outside of its headquarters in New York City.) It also explains why Gibson embarked upon his unorthodox marketing strategy of previewing a rough cut to mostly-friendly (and predominantly Christian) audiences. And just as Gibson had hoped, Christians—mainly Evangelicals—who saw the film prior to its official release date voiced their support for The Passion of the Christ and defended it against charges of anti-Semitism. However, it should also be noted that the movie had its Jewish defenders, too. For example, Michael Medved and Rabbi Daniel Lapin, two prominent radio hosts and Orthodox Jews, praised The Passion of the Christ and rejected the notion that it was anti-Semitic. In March 2004, Medved wrote, “The hysterical denunciations of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ by some influential organizations in the Jewish community reached their crescendo long before the movie's release, and began even before he had finished filming it. This proves that the charges of anti-Semitism surrounding this project for more than a year arose not from an honest assessment of the film, but from political prejudice and organizational imperatives.” Rabbi Marc Gellman, an advice columnist and advocate for interfaith dialogue, also defended the film, saying, “Jews who are secure in their Jewishness and secure in the compassion of their Christian friends will see the Christian story in a new way.” And Conservative Jewish commentator David Horowitz described The Passion of the Christ as “an awesome artefact” and said, “I can't remember being so affected by a film before. It is a racking emotional journey which never strays from its inspirational purpose. It is as close to a religious experience that art can get.”

Predictably, The Passion of the Christ received a highly polarized reaction from professional film critics, who—on the whole—judged it rather negatively. Many reviewers excoriated the movie for its alleged anti-Semitism. Jami Bernard of the New York Daily News, for instance, called The Passion of the Christ “the most virulently anti-Semitic movie since the German propaganda films of World War Two.” Writing for the New Republic, Leon Wieseltier wrote, “In its representation of its Jewish characters, The Passion of the Christ is without any doubt an anti-Semitic movie.” Critics also lambasted The Passion of the Christ for its extreme, pervasive violence—the second factor that made the movie so controversial. Throughout the film’s two-hour running time, Jesus is beaten, whipped, crowned with thorns, and finally nailed to the cross—a hideous ordeal that is portrayed in graphic, and often gruesome, detail. (After The Passion of the Christ was released nationwide, media outlets reported instances of audience members wincing, shaking, crying, vomiting, and—in at least two cases—dying of heart attacks. However, it should be noted here that the film also produced several positive outcomes. For instance, in late March 2004, Dan R. Leach, a Texas man who had murdered his pregnant girlfriend and fooled authorities into thinking that her death had been a suicide, was so moved after seeing The Passion of the Christ that he went to the police and confessed his crime.) David Denby of the New Yorker called The Passion of the Christ “a sickening death trip” and “one of the cruellest [sic] movies in the history of the cinema.” Slate’s David Edelstein called The Passion of the Christ “a two-hour-and-six-minute snuff movie—The Jesus Chainsaw Massacre—that thinks it’s an act of faith.” For his part, Newsweek’s David Ansen wrote, “Relentlessly savage, ‘The Passion’ plays like the Gospel according to the Marquis de Sade.” And in the same review in which he lambasted the movie for its perceived anti-Semitism, Leon Wieseltier said, “The only cinematic achievement of ‘The Passion of the Christ’ is that it breaks new ground in the verisimilitude of filmed violence.”

However, a number of critics lauded the film. One of these was the Chicago Sun-Times’ Roger Ebert, who awarded The Passion of the Christ a perfect four-star rating. Ebert, who had been raised Catholic, wrote, “What Gibson has provided for me, for the first time in my life, is a visceral idea of what the Passion consisted of.” He also defended the movie against the charge of anti-Semitism: “My own feeling is that Gibson's film is not anti-Semitic, but reflects a range of behavior on the part of its Jewish characters, on balance favorably.” It should also be noted that, controversial elements aside, many critics praised several aspects of The Passion of the Christ’s production, such as its performances, cinematography, and music. (The allegations of anti-Semitism resurfaced in the summer of 2006 after Gibson made anti-Semitic remarks to a sheriff’s deputy—who happened to be Jewish—following a DUI arrest. Some of his detractors cited the incident as “proof” that The Passion of the Christ was anti-Semitic. For example, the filmmaker Rob Reiner, who is also Jewish, said Gibson must admit that “his work reflects anti-Semitism” before he could be “redeemed.”) In early 2005, The Passion of the Christ was nominated for Academy Awards in three categories—Best Cinematography, Best Makeup, and Best Original Score—but failed to win any of them. Bizarrely, the movie was also nominated for the American Film Institute’s (AFI) “100 Years...100 Cheers” list alongside such upbeat films as Chariots of Fire and Rain Man. (I get that many people found The Passion of the Christ to be spiritually fulfilling, but for two straight hours, it depicts a poor guy undergoing the kind of pain and suffering that would have scared away the albino monk from The Da Vinci Code. Just where was the cheering supposed to come in?) In March 2005, Gibson released an edited version of The Passion of the Christ called The Passion Recut, which omitted approximately five minutes of the most explicit material. However, this shorter iteration was a box office bust, barely grossing half a million dollars. The Passion of the Christ remains controversial to this day, and if its dismal 49 percent rating on the review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes is any indication, professional critics don’t hold the movie in any higher esteem now than they did when it was first released two decades ago. However, The Passion of the Christ remains deeply popular with Christians (both Catholic and Protestant) in America and around the world. Also, following the film’s massive financial success, Hollywood studios suddenly found that old-time religion and bankrolled a number of epics featuring Judeo-Christian subjects and themes, including Noah (2014), Exodus: Gods and Kings (2014), and a remake of Ben-Hur (2016).

Before I give my assessment of The Passion of the Christ, I would first like to stress here that I am not a person of faith, nor do I believe in God—which obviously means that I don’t believe Jesus was the Son of God. I’m also not an expert on Christianity or the location and time period in which this movie takes place. Therefore, I’m not equipped to judge The Passion of the Christ on historical or theological grounds. However, as a lifelong movie buff, I feel that I am capable of judging this film on cinematic grounds. And on this score, The Passion of the Christ is one of the greatest movies I’ve ever seen and a true visual work of art. Indeed, I consider The Passion of the Christ to be the Sistine Chapel of films about the Messiah; watching it is like witnessing the Stations of the Cross come to life. In my retrospective review for Warren Beatty’s Reds, I said I always love it when a filmmaker puts his or her career on the line for a deeply-held conviction, and that principle certainly applies in the case of Mel Gibson’s masterpiece. In my opinion, The Passion of the Christ was hands-down the finest American film of its year, though I totally understand why the Academy didn’t nominate it for Best Picture.

There are so many wonderful things about this movie, but I must first start out with the great cast. The best performance here is, of course, by Jim Caviezel as Jesus Christ. I’ve loved Caviezel as an actor ever since I saw him in Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line, and, in expressing the agony and perseverance of the Messiah, he gave his career-defining work in The Passion of the Christ. The suffering that Caviezel went through to deliver his iconic performance alone should have warranted an Oscar nomination for Best Actor. Reportedly, Caviezel experienced a bout of pneumonia, an infected lung, a dislocated shoulder, hypothermia, migraines, and several accidental whippings while filming his scenes. (The actor also claimed in an interview that he and Jan Michelini, the assistant director, were struck by lightning. However, I don’t believe this story, which strikes me as the sort of tall tale that movie people like to tell in order to promote their films and buff up their reputations.) All of the supporting cast members are magnificent, but my favorite is Maia Morgenstern, who portrays the Blessed Virgin Mary with a gentle, dignified grace; the suffering and sorrow that her character endures as she watches her son undergo the Passion is one that any mother can relate to.

Two aspects of this movie that are crucial to its artistic success are the cinematography by Caleb Deschanel and the musical score by John Debney. Deschanel’s harsh, beautiful photography gives The Passion of the Christ the look of a gorgeous painting. Debney’s music, which combines traditional Western orchestral and choral elements with instruments from all over the world, conveys the film’s universal message while enhancing its emotional impact. Reportedly, Gibson wanted The Passion of the Christ to have no music at all, so I’m glad he eventually changed his mind on this matter. I also think it’s fortunate that Gibson never backed down from his decision to have all the dialogue in The Passion of the Christ be spoken in Latin, Aramaic, and Hebrew. The use of these foreign tongues adds a layer of authenticity to the movie, and whenever I watch it, I always turn the English subtitles off in order to better focus on the images unfolding onscreen. Oh, and I just love the sound of Latin.

Although I believe that Mel Gibson would have done himself and his movie much good if he had afforded the Caiaphas character the same complexity that he gave to Pontius Pilate, I don’t think The Passion of the Christ is inherently anti-Semitic. Yes, a number of the Jews in the movie are portrayed as bad guys, but almost all of the good guys are also Jews, including Mary Magdalene, Simon of Cyrene, Jesus’ parents, and—of course—Jesus himself. Near as I can tell, the group who comes off looking the worst in the film are the Romans who beat, whip, and crucify the Messiah. Also, I think it was irresponsible for people to claim publicly that The Passion of the Christ would incite anti-Semitic violence against Jews. (Oh, and by the way, those prophesied pogroms never materialized.) And while I acknowledge that The Passion of the Christ is extremely violent, that doesn’t bother me at all because I believe that the brutal, graphic depiction of the scourging and crucifixion of Jesus was necessary to convey the enormity of the sacrifice he made to cleanse humankind of its sins (according to Christian teaching). However, I also appreciate that Gibson intersperses these harrowing sequences with flashbacks of Jesus’ life, including famous moments like the Sermon on the Mount and the Last Supper and more personal ones involving Jesus and his mother. The violence in The Passion of the Christ may have received a torrent of criticism, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it was a crucial factor in the film’s box office success; for many Christians, the depiction of Christ’s suffering and crucifixion held spiritual and emotional value. I also suspect that many secular viewers were drawn to the movie and its violent content partly out of curiosity. It should also be noted that The Passion of the Christ was part of a trend of realistic, ultra-violent historical epics that were made in the wake of Gibson’s Braveheart and Ridley Scott’s Gladiator; indeed, in the months between the release of The Passion of the Christ and the end of 2004, Hollywood released no less than three such movies—Wolfgang Peterson’s Troy, Antoine Fuqua’s King Arthur, and Oliver Stone’s Alexander.

With regard to the violence in The Passion of the Christ, what does bother me is that so many adult Christians took young children to see it on the big screen. In 2019, reporters for the entertainment website the A.V. Club interviewed a number of grown-ups who saw the movie at a tender age—even as young as 10 in a few cases. Writes the A.V. Club’s Randall Colburn, “Some weren’t allowed to cover their eyes. Some sobbed. One puked in her seat. For nearly all of them, it was framed as an event by their parents, their pastors, their teachers, none of whom seemed to care that it spilled more gore than a Troma flick. It was mandatory viewing, and, furthermore, it demanded a reaction.” Many church leaders encouraged children to see The Passion of the Christ because they believed that it held educational and spiritual value for them. For example, Jerry Johnston, pastor of the First Family Church in Kansas City, Kansas, called the movie a “wonderful teaching tool” for kids as young as seven. In my opinion, any parent who allowed a little kid to watch The Passion of the Christ in the theater should have received a visit from child services. And while we’re on the subject of violence in films, I find it interesting that many of the same Christians who flocked to The Passion of the Christ largely avoided Catherine Hardwicke’s The Nativity Story, which came out in 2006 and depicted Jesus’ birth, even though that film was a PG-rated, family-friendly affair. (In his review of The Nativity Story, Christianity Today’s David Neff gave a largely positive assessment but—tellingly—complained that it “is not boldly realistic like The Passion of the Christ.”)

In closing, I’d like to say here that there’s no doubt in my mind that if The Passion of the Christ had dealt with a subject favored by American cinema’s cognoscenti, it would have been showered with all kinds of praise and accolades. My hope is that the majority of professional critics eventually come around and acknowledge the artistic merit of this masterpiece—but I won’t hold my breath. Still, I’m thankful that the movie has demonstrated an enduring popularity with millions of Christians around the world. (At least somebody appreciates it.) I have seen four of the five films that Mel Gibson has directed thus far, and The Passion of the Christ is undoubtedly his magnum opus. At a time when Hollywood studios refuse to take risks and constantly crank out conventional, crowd-pleasing superhero flicks, sequels, and reboots, bold, unique works of cinematic art like The Passion of the Christ are needed now more than ever.




Krull (1983)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


It is a truism that most movies and books borrow from other movies and books that came before them to one degree or another, and this is certainly the case within the hybrid genre of science fantasy. As I see it, there are two kinds of science fantasy films—those that are able to conceal their sources and appear new and fresh and those that can’t. In the first category, the gold standard is, of course, George Lucas’ original Star Wars and its immediate sequels. Before he crafted his seminal space opera, Lucas helped himself from a rich buffet of literary and cinematic goodies and heaped his plate high with delectable narrative elements from the Arthurian tales, Frank Herbert’s Dune, The Hidden Fortress, Forbidden Planet, The Searchers, and many other works. Then, with the help of writer and mythologist Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey and an unparalleled imagination, he molded these influences into something moviegoers had never seen before; even John Williams scores, which borrowed heavily from composers like Richard Wagner and Gustav Holst, felt new because it was extremely rare at that time for science fiction movies to use orchestral music. Within the second category of science fantasy, one movie that proved a dismal failure when it came to hiding its derivative nature was Krull, directed by Peter Yates, a British filmmaker who had achieved critical and financial success with films such as Bullitt (1968) and Breaking Away (1979).

Krull opens with a prophecy delivered by some guy with an important-sounding voice, who states “that a girl of ancient name shall become queen, that she shall choose a king, and that together they shall rule their world, and that their son shall rule the galaxy”—and all in that order. The narrator also tells of an evil, gigantic, and powerful being named the Beast who lives in a ship called the Black Fortress—which, for some inexplicable reason, resembles a large mountain—and is served by a bunch of ruthless minions called the Slayers (not to be confused with the thrash metal band from the 1980’s). Together, they travel throughout the galaxy conquering planets because that’s precisely the sort of thing evil dudes do. The Black Fortress lands on a planet called—you guessed it—Krull, and the Beast wastes no time in launching an invasion. Two Krull(ish?) kingdoms that have traditionally been enemies agree to set aside their grievances and join forces to defeat the Beast and his army and save their planet. To this end, they forge an alliance via the marriage of their children, Prince Colwyn and Princess Lyssa. However, a force of Slayers crashes the wedding, kills the two kings and a whole bunch of their soldiers, wounds Colwyn, abducts Lyssa, and drinks all the punch from the reception. (Okay, okay, I just made that last part up on the fly.)

An ancient dude called Ynyr, a.k.a. the Old One, patches Colwyn up and sends him to a cave in the mountains to obtain a powerful weapon called the Glaive. When this is accomplished, Colwyn, accompanied by Ynyr, sets out on a quest to rescue his bride and destroy the Beast and his minions. Along the way, our hero, who’s now the king of Krull, encounters and receives the assistance of a seer, a cyclops, a magician, and a troop of ruffians. They have many adventures and suffer several casualties before finally reaching the Black Fortress, where they battle the Beast and his Slayers. Meanwhile, our main villain employs his powers and chicanery in an attempt to persuade Lyssa to marry him, but she is steadfast in her refusal—presenting the somewhat humorous irony that an all-powerful dude who calls himself the Beast can’t seduce a member of the fairer sex.

When Krull was released in the U.S. on July 29, 1983, professional critics launched an attack upon it that rivaled the Slayers’ attack at the beginning of the movie. Although some aspects of the production, such as the visual effects and musical score, received praise, most critics dismissed Krull as silly and derivative. For example, on their television program, the immortal duo Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert trashed the film. Ebert called it “one of the most boring, nonsensical, illogical fantasies in a long time” before his partner proceeded to poke logical holes in the plot with gleeful precision. The Washington Post’s Gary Arnold described Krull as “an elaborately lackluster attempt to fabricate a fresh adventure fantasy out of a batch of familiar genre ingredients.” Writing for the New York Times, Janet Maslin said this of the film: “For all its unusual touches, it doesn't fully feel like anything new.” Ironically, Krull, one of the many Star Wars knockoffs that Hollywood produced in the wake of the galaxy-shattering success of George Lucas’ space opera, went up against Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi at the summer box office. Suffice to say, the Beast and his Black Fortress were no match for Emperor Palpatine and his Death Star; the knockoff got knocked off—big time. Krull earned an embarrassing gross of just $17 million against a $27-30 million budget, marking it as a commercial flop, while the final entry in the original Star Wars trilogy devastated all competitors by grossing $374 million against a $32.5 million budget.

Although Krull currently enjoys an abysmal 30 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, the film has, in the years since its release, become a cult classic. The overall assessment from the retrospective reviews that I found for Krull appears to be a mix of praise and criticism. For instance, in a piece for Den of Geek, Ryan Lambie acknowledged the movie’s considerable flaws, especially its unoriginality, but also called it “a film I have an abiding fondness for.” (Although Krull proved a major misfire for him, Peter Yates saw his fortunes improve greatly near the end of 1983 when he released another film—The Dresser, a drama about the British theatre. The Dresser grossed about a third of what Krull earned at the box office, but this wasn’t a problem since its budget was many times smaller. More importantly, The Dresser received overwhelmingly positive reviews and was nominated for several Academy Awards, including Best Picture.)

Prior to my viewing of Krull for this retrospective review, I had seen the movie once before just over two decades ago but had virtually no memory of it. When I watched Krull recently, I realized why I couldn’t remember it: with one notable exception (which I will get to below), everything about this movie is utterly forgettable. I wanted to like Krull, even if only on a superficial level, but I found it to be dull, hackneyed, and asinine. As was indicated by the reviews, this movie is nothing more than a cinematic smorgasbord of fantasy cliches. For example, you have a prince/hero, a princess, an evil villain holding said princess captive, a quest to rescue said princess from said evil villain, an old and wise man who serves as a mentor for said prince/hero as he goes on said quest to rescue said princess from said evil villain, a nincompoop sidekick who provides comic relief, an ancient prophecy, a powerful, mystical weapon, etc., etc., etc. (Since Peter Yates and Stanford Sherman, his screenwriter, were apparently trying to cram in every fantasy trope into their plot, they should have had a scene at the end in which Colwyn and Lyssa consummate their union and then discover that they’re actually brother and sister.) Also, aspects of the plot are just really dumb, like how the Beast’s Black Fortress never stays in the same place but constantly moves around the planet. And who in their right mind would want their spaceship to be shaped like an ugly mountain anyway?

The best thing that can be said about the cast is that the actors do what they can with the flat, clichéd dialogue they are given. Near as I can tell, no one is a standout; in particular, Ken Marshall and Lysette Anthony, who play Colwyn and Lyssa respectively, seem as though they were chosen because of their good looks rather than their acting ability. The only noteworthy thing about this cast is the presence of a very young Liam Neeson and Robbie Coltrane. Neeson, of course, has earned great popularity with critics and audiences alike for his performances in dramas, such as Schindler’s List, and action flicks like Taken. And though he was never a star, the now-deceased Coltrane is widely known for his role as Rubeus Hagrid in the Harry Potter franchise. (There’s also some irony in Neeson and Coltrane’s casting in Krull, given the movie’s status as a glorified Star Wars knockoff. Coltrane made his Hollywood debut in Flash Gordon, the 1980 film adaptation of the popular space adventure comic strip that heavily influenced Star Wars. As for Neeson, 16 years after appearing in Krull, he would play Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn in Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace.)

Now I should note here that Krull is well-made, and the visual effects were good for the early 1980’s, though they look horribly outdated today. With that being said, the effects had to be good, considering the fact that Krull cost $27-30 million to produce—a hefty price tag for a movie back then; if the effects had been bad, Krull would look even more pathetic than it already does. And speaking of outdated, one aspect of this film that definitely doesn’t age very well is its handling of gender. Princess Lyssa, Krull’s main female character, is a stereotypical damsel in distress who needs her prince to rescue her from the clutches of the Beast. Two other women in the film, the Widow of the Web, an old lover of Ynyr’s, and Merith, one of the many wives of the ruffian Kegan, are minor female characters who exist to serve the needs of the male characters. And then there’s Vella, Merith’s assistant and a femme fatale who tries to seduce Colwyn in an attempt to destroy the love between him and Lyssa. In our current age, in which many women in the movies are smart, independent, and can kick the asses of men twice their size, a film like Krull probably wouldn’t be acceptable to most females—and many males, for that matter. (Personally, I’ll take a Katniss Everdeen, an Éowyn, or even a Princess Leia over Princess Lyssa any day of the week.)

One of Krull’s biggest problems is the unsuccessful blending of its sci-fi and fantasy elements. When he made Star Wars, George Lucas did this sort of thing with amazing skill by creating a believable galaxy filled with starships, space stations, lasers, Jedi and Sith Knights, lightsabers, and the Force, and the end result was a perfect fusion of futuristic technology and ancient mysticism. In contrast, Krull features ridiculous scenes where people ride on horseback and use Medieval swords to battle invaders with spaceships and laser guns. (Seriously, haven’t the inhabitants of Krull ever heard the old adage “Never bring a sword to a laser fight?”) And speaking of weaponry and things that are ridiculous, I think it’s worth noting that the “Glaive” from Krull doesn’t look anything like an actual glaive; it looks like a throwing star. Given this, perhaps the filmmakers should have called this bad boy “the Throwing Star” instead of “the Glaive”? Just a thought. In his retrospective review, Ryan Lambie mentioned that his “abiding fondness” for Krull in spite of its many flaws stems from the fact that he loved watching it as a child. I can certainly understand this sentiment. As a child growing up in the 1980’s, I loved a number of cheesy sci-fi and fantasy films, such as The Dark Crystal, D.A.R.Y.L., and Labyrinth, and still harbor a fondness for them all these years later. If I had first seen these movies as an adult, I probably wouldn’t like them very much. Conversely, if I had grown up watching and loving Krull, I might think differently about it now. But that’s not the way things worked out.

Despite my numerous and harsh criticisms of Krull, I’m recommending this movie for two reasons. Firstly, even though I didn’t like Krull, I think many sci-fi and fantasy lovers might get a kick out of this cinematic relic from the early Eighties, especially Star Wars fans—just as long as they don’t expect Krull to be anywhere near as good as a Star Wars flick. Secondly, movie-lovers, and especially movie music-lovers, should see Krull for its one outstanding element—the truly awesome score by the late, great James Horner. (On a trivia note, after doing Krull together, Horner and Yates collaborated on The Dresser.) Horner, who died tragically in 2015 when he crashed his plane in a forest, wrote many wonderful scores for films such as Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Willow, Glory, and Apollo 13. But, in the opinion of this writer, Krull will always be his magnum opus. The score is an enthusiastically epic and melodic blend of symphonic, choral, and electronic elements that’s a thousand times better the film for which it was written. I mentioned above that Krull competed with Return of the Jedi at the box office and lost that contest pretty badly, but while Krull is nowhere near as good as that Star Wars flick, Horner’s score is as good and possibly greater than John Williams’ score to Episode VI and should have been nominated for—and won—an Oscar. So my hope is that people will watch Krull and then buy the soundtrack (the compete version has been available for at least 25 years now). It’s the only reason why I’m glad this film was made at all.




A system of cells interlinked
Thanks for the review!

That said: Krull rules! One of the best 80s cheese flicks ever made. So bad, it's awesome!
__________________
“Film can't just be a long line of bliss. There's something we all like about the human struggle.” ― David Lynch



Victim of The Night
Yeah, Krull has real problems but it's also imaginative and fun. Lysette Anthony is pretty great as The Princess, Freddie Jones rules, Alun Armstrong was particularly good, I thought, as the leader of the bandits. Some pretty cool scenes too with the changeling and The Widow Of The Web.
I think I ended up, after seeing it probably a dozen times now, at a 2.5-3/5 depending on how generous I'm feeling... and yet I saw it a dozen times.



Guys, thanks for your commentary! When I watched Krull for this retrospective review, I knew I wouldn’t love it, but I really did want to like it. I’ve said elsewhere on this forum that I enjoyed Geostorm, so as you can see, I clearly don’t require a sci-fi movie to be good in order to fun. But Krull just didn’t work for me. With that being said, I think we can all agree that James Horner’s score is out of this world. This cue in particular always makes my spine tingle:


Mark



Manhattan Murder Mystery (1993)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


Woody Allen does Agatha Christie.

No, not THAT way, you sick, depraved pervert! Take your mind out of the gutter this instant! (Actually, in all seriousness, Ms. Christie would be way too old for Allen’s liking.)

One thing that’s always fascinated me about cinema is how a film project can begin its journey as one thing and end up becoming something completely different. For instance, when he was hired to direct the 1986 blockbuster Top Gun, Tony Scott set out to make a dark military movie, a sort of Apocalypse Now in the skies, if you will. However, the suits over at Paramount Pictures were dead set against this, so the end result was a glossy, jingoistic crowd-pleaser that became a megahit at the box office and turned a then-unknown actor named Tom Cruise into an international star. Also, during the mid-1970’s, director Woody Allen and Marshall Brickman, his collaborator, set out to make a murder mystery with a comedic edge. However, they were unsatisfied with their original script and decided to take things in a whole different direction. Ultimately, the pair wound up with the hilarious and groundbreaking comedy classic Annie Hall, which went on to win several Oscars, including Best Picture. But the murder mystery idea never truly died in Allen and Brickman’s minds, and during the early 1990’s, they resuscitated it. (On Allen’s part, this move came largely out of a desire to do a fun film project and take his mind off his personal troubles; at the time, he was in the middle of several ugly personal scandals that played out in the press. Allen, who had entered into a romantic relationship with an adopted child of his then-partner, actress Mia Farrow, was accused by Farrow of molesting one of their three children. This prompted the filmmaker to launch a court battle for sole custody of the children, which he lost.)

The result was Manhattan Murder Mystery, which is about an affluent and bored middle-aged couple named Larry and Carol Lipton, who live in a posh apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. When the two of them return home from a hockey game, they meet Paul and Lillian House, an elderly couple who live in the apartment next door, and they all enjoy a pleasant conversation over coffee and dessert. The next day, however, Lillian dies of a heart attack. The circumstances surrounding her sudden death as well as Paul’s seeming lack of sadness over his recent bereavement causes Carol to grow suspicious, and further developments lead her to believe that her and Larry’s next-door neighbor murdered his spouse and successfully covered up the crime. Yearning for some kind of escape from her humdrum upper-class existence, Carol assumes the role of an amateur sleuth and drags an unwilling, complaining Larry along in her investigation. The two of them also receive assistance from Ted, a divorced friend of theirs who carries a secret torch for Carol, and Marcia Fox, an author who’s attracted to Larry but whom he sets up with Ted.

When Manhattan Murder Mystery opened in the United States on August 18, 1993, it received a positive reception from professional critics, who largely viewed the movie as a fun little whodunit (which, of course, was what it was intended to be). On their television program, the immortal critic duo Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert gave Manhattan Murder Mystery two thumbs up, though the former argued that it was better in the beginning and criticized how the crime plot unfolded. In his review, in which he awarded the film three stars out of four, Ebert wrote, “It is, on one level, a recycling of ancient crime formulas about nosy neighbors. On another, it's about living in the big city. On still another, it's about behavior and tabus and breaking the rules.” Variety’s Todd McCarthy wrote of Manhattan Murder Mystery: “Light, insubstantial and utterly devoid of the heavier themes Allen has grappled with in most of his recent outings, this confection keeps the chuckles coming and is mainstream enough in sensibility to be a modest success.” However, in a more critical review, the Los Angeles Times’ Kenneth Turan zeroed in on Allen’s well-honed persona, which he described as “possibly the most celebrated complainer in Hollywood history,” and wrote, “Clever and amusing though it often is, ‘Murder’ is also Allen’s whiniest film to date, and your appreciation of its pleasures will fluctuate according to your tolerance for his Angst.” Some of the reviewers mentioned Allen’s then-current troubles behind the camera. For instance, when he gave his assessment of the film, Gene Siskel said, “I’m giving it thumbs up because I may be in some way rooting for Woody Allen to get his life back together onscreen in some way. There’s no way I think you can watch his pictures now and not have the other world stuff come into it.” Audiences didn’t react as favorably as the critics, and Manhattan Murder Mystery grossed just $11.3 million at the box office against its $13.5 million budget. (I couldn’t find international grosses for this movie but am fairly certain that it was a financial failure. Also, while it's possible that Allen’s personal scandals affected Manhattan Murder Mystery’s box office performance, I could find no evidence to indicate that this was the case.) Judging from its incredibly high 94 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, Manhattan Murder Mystery remains a well-liked movie.

Although Manhattan Murder Mystery is far from Allen’s finest work, I harbor a deep fondness for it—though I believe its Rotten Tomatoes score is way too high. I love Woody Allen films, and I love murder mysteries, and this cinematic combination of these two things is a fun, old-fashioned whodunit that’s infused with its director’s particular brand of neurotic humor. The cast is key to the movie’s success. Woody Allen and Diane Keaton, who play Larry and Carol Lipton, display the infectious chemistry that they enjoyed in previous collaborations, most notably Annie Hall; indeed, a number of critics saw the Liptons as a middle-aged version of Annie Hall and Alvy Singer. Alan Alda, a terrific actor who’s arguably most famous for his role as Benjamin “Hawkeye” Pierce from the beloved television series M*A*S*H, and the indomitable Angelica Huston, add to the fun as Ted and Marcia. But the best performance in Manhattan Murder Mystery is by Jerry Adler. Although I’m not familiar with Adler’s other work, he plays Paul House as a quiet, kind, and gentle man who may or may not have a sinister side to him.

As is the case with Allen’s best comedies, many of the scenes and lines of dialogue are hilarious. For instance, there’s a scene near the beginning of the film when Carol, frustrated that Larry doesn’t share her suspicions about Paul, says to him, “Why aren’t you more fascinated by this? We could be living next door to a murderer!”, to which Larry replies, “New York is a melting pot. I’m used to it.” Later in the film, there’s another scene that takes place in a hotel where Carol and Larry are doing some amateur sleuthing. When they’re done interrogating a custodian, Larry hands the stranger a bill and tells her that they may need more information in the future. After looking down at the bill, the custodian frowns at Larry, and he says, “Don’t stare at me like that. He’s the father of our country.” One of the things I like most about Manhattan Murder Mystery is that it’s a loving homage to classic film noirs from Hollywood’s Golden Age; indeed, two of the movie’s influences, Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity and Orson Welles’ The Lady from Shanghai, appear during crucial scenes. I also like the love rectangle between Carol and Ted on one side and Larry and Marcia on the other, and my only criticism of Manhattan Murder Mystery is that this was never fully explored in a way that it could have been in a different (and probably better) film.

So, in closing, I heartily recommend Manhattan Murder Mystery and encourage people who love a good whodunit or the work of Woody Allen to watch this fun movie, and to this end, I’ve refrained from spoiling the ending. If you want to know if Larry and Carol Lipton’s next-door neighbor is really a cold-blooded killer (or not), then you’ll just have to find that out for yourself.




Congo (1995)

Lookback/Review by Markdc


In my retrospective review for Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, I discussed how that movie perfectly illustrated the late, great screenwriter William Goldman’s dictum that “Nobody knows anything”; in other words, no one can ultimately predict whether a given film will attract audiences or not. Certainly, few if anyone, believed Gibson’s 2004 masterpiece would be anything other than a box office flop due to its extremely violent and controversial content and the fact that all of its dialogue was spoken in three foreign languages (including two dead ones). But, as the reader doubtless knows, The Passion of the Christ blew expectations out of the water and set a record for the highest-grossing R-rated film in North America—a record that stood for two decades. For this retrospective review, I went in the other direction and looked back at a movie that, at least in the beginning stages of production, appeared to be a surefire smash hit and yet woefully underperformed expectations.

When the suits over at Paramount Pictures greenlit Congo in the early 1990’s, there was every reason to believe that this movie would steamroll its competition and become a mega-success financially if not critically. After all, its production contained all the ingredients needed to brew a pot of box office gold—at least on paper. For starters, Congo was based on an adventure novel by Michael Crichton. Crichton, of course, was the author of Jurassic Park, whose 1993 cinematic adaptation by Steven Spielberg had become the most commercially successful film of all time by a longshot. (Two other movies from the early 1990’s that were based on Crichton works, Rising Sun and Disclosure, were also box office hits.) And although Spielberg wouldn’t be at the helm of this new project (he had turned down an offer to make Congo in the 1980’s), his longtime collaborator and friend Frank Marshall (producer of Raiders of the Ark) would be sitting in the director’s chair. And one of the co-producers was another Spielberg friend and collaborator, Kathleen Kennedy, who had performed similar duties on a number of his films, including Jurassic Park, and now cranks out Star Wars flicks from her perch over at Lucasfilm. (Congo was modeled after Jurassic Park as well as the Indiana Jones series, which—of course—was also directed by Spielberg.) The script would be penned by John Patrick Shanley, who won an Oscar for his screenplay to Moonstruck and had recently worked with Marshall on the 1992 film Alive. And that wasn’t all. Allen Daviau—you may remember him as the cinematographer on a little-known film that I like to call E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial—would be serving as director of photography. And occupying the editor’s chair was Anne V. Coates, who won an Oscar for her work on Lawrence of Arabia. Jerry Goldsmith, esteemed composer of such hit films as Patton, Poltergeist, and Star Trek: The Motion Picture, would be scoring Congo. And last but not least, the visual effects would be provided by Stan Winston, who had received well-deserved Oscars for his groundbreaking work on Jurassic Park and Terminator 2: Judgment Day. With a dream team like this, what could possibly go wrong?

Congo opens in the jungles of—you guessed it—the Congo, where a team of employees from TraviCom, a communications company, are on an important expedition led by a young man named Charles Travis. They find a rare blue diamond in the ruins of an ancient city located near a volcano, and R.B. Travis, TraviCom’s CEO and the father of Charles, is obsessed with the gemstone because it can operate a new laser his company has invented—a potentially big leap in communications technology that will reap huge financial rewards. However, shortly after this discovery, the expedition is attacked by a mysterious creature that resembles an ape, and an undetermined number of people are killed. Back at TraviCom’s headquarters in Houston, Texas, R.B. Travis orders a subordinate named Karen Ross, a former CIA operative who was once engaged to Charles, to go to the Congo on the pretext of finding his son dead or alive—though his real motive is getting his hands on the diamond. Reluctantly, she agrees to do it.

Meanwhile, a primatologist at the University of California, Berkeley named Peter Elliot is conducting research into communications between humans and primates and has just achieved a major breakthrough with a gorilla named Amy, who can talk with the help of an electronic backpack and glove which transforms her sign language into spoken word. However, Amy experiences nightmares and draws strange pictures of the African jungle and the Eye of Providence, so Peter and Richard, his research assistant, decide to return her to her original home in the Congo (known at the time as the nation-state of Zaire). When Berkeley proves unreceptive to funding this venture, a mysterious man named Herkermer Homolka, who presents himself as a philanthropist from Romania, steps forward and offers to provide the needed cash. However, just before their plane is scheduled to lift off, Homolka informs Peter that he lacks the necessary funds to pay for the fuel. Fortunately, Karen Ross conveniently appears at that very moment to provide the money in exchange for a place in the expedition.

When the group lands in Uganda, they hook up with a mercenary named Monroe Kelly, who acts as their guide. Shortly afterward, they are captured and interrogated by a local military commander named Captain Wanta, who releases them when Karen bribes him with a considerable amount of cash. The group, now bolstered by the presence of porters, crosses the border into Tanzania, and as they are preparing to board the plane to Zaire, Monroe informs Peter, Richard, and Karen that Homolka has taken several failed expeditions into the Congolese jungle to search for the fabled “Lost City of Zinj”, which—legend has it—contains priceless diamonds that once belonged to King Solomon. (Yes, that King Solomon.) When the plane is in the air, soldiers from Zaire’s military fire missiles at it and force the passengers to evacuate via parachute. Upon reaching the ground, they encounter a tribe of natives who take them to Bob Driscoll, a member of the original TraviCom expedition, but when he notices Amy, he screams in terror and then dies suddenly.

After the group takes a journey down a river, during which Homolka shares his belief that Amy can lead everyone to Zinj and the boats are attacked by a hungry, hungry hippo, they find the fabled city and Charles Travis’ camp. They also meet a vicious grey gorilla, who kills Richard and one of the porters. The others spend the night in the camp and are attacked by more grey gorillas, who try to breach the security perimeter but are unsuccessful thanks to the presence of self-operating sentry guns that the expedition apparently borrowed from the space marines in Aliens. The next morning, the group discovers that Amy, Homolka, and some of the porters are gone, so they go back to Zinj. There they find the Romanian and learn that the killer grey gorillas were bred and trained by the city’s residents to protect King Solomon’s diamond mine and slay anyone who attempted to take the precious gems.

After searching some more, the group discovers the mine and are attacked by a large troop of grey gorillas. Homolka and the last remaining porters are killed, and Peter and Karen discover the bodies of Charles and fellow TraviCom employee Jeffrey Weems. The gorillas continue their assault, and Peter is almost killed, but Amy appears and protects him. Karen takes a diamond that Charles’ corpse was holding in its hand and uses the gem to power TraviCom’s laser gun, which kills a bunch of the grey gorillas and allows her, Peter, Amy, and Monroe to escape the mine. As they leave, the nearby volcano erupts, and its lava destroys the rest of the grey gorillas. Karen contacts R.B. Travis and tells him about Charles, but when she realizes that Travis only wanted her to go to the Congo to get the diamond, she uses it and the laser gun to destroy TraviCom’s satellite. Peter releases Amy—sans backpack and glove—back into the jungle, where she joins a troop of normal gorillas. Then he, Karen, and Monroe climb into a conveniently available hot air balloon and float back to civilization.

When Congo was released in the U.S. on June 9, 1995, the professional critics set upon it like a pack of killer grey gorillas. Much of their derision was directed at Shanley’s screenplay and the gorillas, which were a combination animatronics and people in hairy costumes. (Marshall and his production team decided not to use the then-new technology of CGI due to its inability to realistically portray primate hair.) And, of course, the movie drew uncomplimentary comparisons to Jurassic Park. For example, Janet Maslin of the New York Times wrote in her review that “This glib, overheated film about vicious primates delivers little suspense” and “The endangered species about which viewers of ‘Congo’ will be most worried is the Michael Crichton thriller.” She also complained that Congo lacked “the inspired showmanship with which the author's paranoid naturalism was exploited in ‘Jurassic Park.’” On the television program Siskel & Ebert & the Movies, Gene Siskel called the movie “laughable” and “howlingly (is that even a word?) silly.” Ebert, however, defended Congo, and in his review, in which he awarded the film three out of four stars, he called it “a splendid example of a genre no longer much in fashion, the jungle adventure story” and “entertaining and funny.” Yet, despite the mauling from the critics, Congo was an undeniable blockbuster at the box office, earning $81 million domestically and $152 million worldwide on a $50 million budget. However, this sum vastly underperformed expectations and was just a fraction of Jurassic Park’s dino-sized $913 million global haul. (Congo’s box office total also lagged far behind the grosses of the Indiana Jones movies.) Not surprisingly, Congo wasn’t nominated for any Academy Awards. However, it did receive some recognition from the Golden Raspberry Awards; the movie was nominated for seven Razzies (though it failed to win any of them), including Worst Picture and Worst New Star for Amy the Talking Gorilla. And time has not been particularly kind to Congo. The movie currently enjoys dismal 22 percent and 22/100 ratings on Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic respectively.

With regard to my feelings about Congo, I would like to paraphrase what Nathan Rabin over at The Dissolve said of the film in a retrospective review: This is not a good movie but a great bad movie. (By the way, I love the Crichton novel that Congo is based on, in part because it drew inspiration from H.R. Haggard’s 19th Century adventure classic King Solomon’s Mines, one of my favorite books.) Congo is light years away from being cinematic art, but it’s nonetheless one of the funnest popcorn flicks I’ve ever seen. I enjoy watching adventure movies, movies that take place in Africa, and movies about lost cities/civilizations/treasure, and Congo checks all three boxes. In a film like this, none of the actors are going to deliver an Oscar-caliber performance, no matter how good they are. However, the cast is a delight, with one notable exception: Dylan Walsh, who plays Peter Elliot, is a total nonentity. Amy the Talking Gorilla may be an animatronic or person in a gorilla outfit (depending on the scene), but she has way more personality and charm than her trainer.

I’ve always enjoyed seeing Grant Heslov, who portrays Richard, on the screen. Heslov also appeared in several other blockbusters from the 1990’s, including James Cameron’s True Lies, and, more recently, has found awards success in his producer-writer collaborations with George Clooney. (Heslov has been nominated for four Academy Awards and won the Best Picture Oscar for Ben Affleck’s Argo.) My favorite performance in Congo is by Laura Linney as Karen Ross. I’ve enjoyed seeing her in other Nineties movies, such as Searching for Bobby Fischer and The Truman Show. Here, Linney isn’t a memorable action heroine, but her character has an infectious charm and toughness. Ernie Hudson, who I’ll always harbor a fondness for due to his portrayal as Winston Zedemore in the Ghostbusters series, does a good job as Monroe Kelly. I especially like the line he delivers when he meets Karen: “I’m your great White hunter on this trip, though I happen to be Black”; this is a reference to the fact that Hudson’s character in Crichton’s source novel was originally a White man. Tim Curry is delightful as the greedy, shady Herkermer Homolka. Then there’s Joe Pantoliano, an actor I’ve enjoyed watching in films like Empire of the Sun and The Fugitive, as Eddie Ventro, an American who hires Monroe Kelly to guide the expedition. And one of my favorite performances in the movie is by Delroy Lindo, who plays the brutal, corrupt, and slightly psychotic Captain Wanta. Lindo, a gifted actor who did great work in Malcolm X and Get Shorty (also released in 1995), only appears in a single scene in Congo, but he absolutely steals it. I love the part where Wanta orders Karen, Monroe, and Homolka to partake of his sesame cake and then a minute later shouts to Homolka, a man he despises, “Stop eating my sesame cake!” And while he only appears in the beginning of Congo as Charles Travis and isn’t exactly memorable, I still enjoy seeing Bruce Campbell, whom I shall always cherish for his performance in Sam Raimi’s wonderful 1993 cult classic Army of Darkness.

In addition to its delightful cast, Congo is filled with fun action sequences. I like the scene where the expedition members jump out of their plane after it comes under fire from the Zairean military, and the hippopotamus attack on the river in the dark of night is thrilling. But the best action scene comes at the end when Karen zaps those mean grey gorillas with her super-cool, diamond-powered laser gun. (Inexplicably, she later asks Peter to throw her diamond out of the hot air balloon. She should have kept it. That laser gun could have come in handy.) I’m probably going to anger a lot of readers by saying this, but I don’t think Congo is any worse than Jurassic Park. Sure, Spielberg’s dinosaur flick has much better visual effects, but Marshall’s film has a more interesting plot. And while Congo is the last movie you would go to for political or historical insight, its story contains telltale traces of the tragic legacy bequeathed to Africa by the European powers that carved up the “Dark Continent” like a wedding cake during the 19th Century. For instance, the film depicts the constant political instability and violence that has plagued African countries ever since they gained independence from their Western colonial overlords. Also, the scene with Captain Wanta takes place in the Hotel Leopold, an unmistakable reference to King Leopold II of Belgium, whose rule over and exploitation of the Congo resulted in the deaths of millions of its inhabitants. And in the scene where the group encounters the native tribe in the jungle, its members laugh when Monroe informs them that he’s the expedition’s leader; because Monroe has Black skin, the natives expect him to be a lowly subordinate with a basket of luggage on his head.

In conclusion, Congo, for all its flaws, didn’t deserve the hatred it received when first released. And I think it’s high time that the movie be widely recognized for what it truly is—a nonstop thrill ride that doesn’t take itself seriously. Bottom line: If you’re looking for a cinematic work that transcends art, then this movie is not for you. However, if you’re game for a silly, rip-roaring adventure filled with laughs (not all of them intentional), then I urge you to take a trip to the Congo. You won’t be enlightened, but you will be entertained.