It’s clear to me, with the release of Bond 23 (AKA the next James Bond film), Skyfall, later this year, and its recently unleashed teaser trailer, I needed to get this post finally out of my Draft’s bin. I’ve been busy of late, and a little lazy about getting it online. Still, when you have wonderful periodic content on the topic in general already available, there’s been no hurry. I mean, my friend Ruth’s Bond threads are the stuff of blog comment heaven and my colleague Fogs’ thoughts and judgements on the subject seem to follow closely with mine, who can compete with that? But, since I’ve been on a music bent lately, I guess there’s no better time than the present.

As the longest continually running film series in history, Ian Fleming’s character of James Bond continues to press on with distinct style (if not a different face every few years). It’s little wonder that our own American Cinematheque Los Angeles is offering up the entire 22 films in a retrospective to “licensed to kill” fans next month. My son is on record that he wants to attend every single movie and double-feature offered. For which I say, “How will you be able to afford this, and have you started working yet?” I’m sure I’ll be attending some of my favorites and avoiding my least-loved (cough… A View to a Kill).

Generally, this piece is meant as an appreciation of the music for the long-time film series, and one stunning vocal artist in particular. Let’s be honest, in the 50 years covering twenty-two films so far in the series there is a wide range in sweet-sounding quality when it comes to its title theme songs. Sure, there are fans for each and every song out there. More power to them, I say (well, maybe not the Madonna crowd who may somehow like the horrid one for Die Another Day, which I honestly consider the worst in the canon). Without question, the impact of composer/film scorer John Barry cannot be minimized among all of those who’ve contributed musically to the Bond series. And yet, there’s only been one singer in that five-decade period who has belted out more OO7 theme songs in number while simultaneously setting the standard: that would be the Welsh music icon, Dame Shirley Bassey.

Shirley Bassey easily was one of the most popular singers in Britain over the last decades of the 20th century. She possesses one of the most distinct and powerful voices in the music world. And we have John Barry to thank for bringing this talent into the Bond universe, beginning in 1964. Out of the three theme songs she’s recorded, I’d have all of them in my Top Ten. Not a bad batting average out of twenty (in reality, those for Dr. No and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service are purely John Barry instrumental pieces). So, here then are those song rankings and thoughts on each including the films, the actor portraying Bond, and that all important villain.

3. Moonraker

Song Released: June 1979
Music By: John Barry
Lyrics By: Hal David
Bond: Roger Moore (not my favorite)
Bond Film Rating: Fogs has it as Cheese, and I’d have to agree; it’s not total crap because…
Bond Villain: Michael Lonsdale as Drax is one of the best in the entire series

This was the singer’s third and final theme song, and she was not even the first or second choice as singer. Still, Dame Shirley really is the reason to listen to it (decent musically, but the lyrics are just okay). Kate Bush was originally set to write and record the song. Didn’t happen [strike one]. Then, Frank Sinatra was considered and dropped [strike two]. Finally, Johnny Mathis was lined up, didn’t like the song Barry and Hal David penned, and balked [strike three]. In the few weeks left and backs against the wall, Barry went back to Ms. Bassey to save the day (she did so only as a favor to the composer, even though it’s her least favorite). Trivia: this is the only Bond song that actually has two official versions. Per tradition, the song plays during the movie titles. Crazily, the other plays over the end credits. But Hell, I’ll take Dame Bassey’s disco version of the tune over Madonna’s any day of the week, thank you very much.

2. Goldfinger

Song Released: September 1964
Music By: John Barry
Lyrics By: Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse
Bond: Sean Connery (even decades later, he remains my favorite in the role)
Bond Film Rating: Fogs has it as Classic, and I wholeheartedly agree. It’s my all-time favorite
Bond Villain: Gert Frobe as Goldfinger, like the film, established the template for the entire series

Yeah, I can’t believe I’m putting this in second place, either (but, by only a razor-thin margin). In addition, this is where we’ll forever be beholden to John Barry for extending the invitation to Shirley Bassey, plus the mutual musical satisfaction of all of things Bond due to it. Only because of their working relationship, they were touring together at the time when he approached her, did she agree to the singing gig. There weren’t any lyrics, yet, and she took it purely because of Barry’s music. That she brought and used those impressive pipes of hers in a bravura performance goes without saying. And like almost everything associated with Goldfinger the film, this one set the standard that all others are judged by. The Bond theme songs that came before are almost an afterthought due to Shirley Bassey singing “the song in a pull-out-the-stops manner”, as AllMusic noted. Trivia: “Bond producer Harry Saltzman hated this and he took a lot of convincing to use this as the film tune. John Barry explained in his interview with NPR that Saltzman called it “the worst song he’d ever heard in his life,” but because there was no time to change it, he had to live with it.”

1. Diamonds Are Forever

Song Released: December 1971
Music By: John Barry
Lyrics By: Don Black
Bond: Sean Connery (in his last “official” stint in the role)
Bond Film Rating: Fogs has it as Crap, which I disagree; it’s comfort food Cheese to some of us, and it’s all because of Connery (I’ll leave the Crap rating for Never Say Never Again, though I can re-watch that over A View to a Kill without too much complaint)
Bond Villain: Charles Gray as Blofeld was underrated, also like the film, and remains watchable and one of the better ones in that long line of bad guys

I know, some of you will vehemently disagree on this pick, but hear me out first. When I looked back at my Bond song play counts, I thought Goldfinger would be the clear winner. To my surprise, this one edged it out. Examining this further, I now surmise it’s because both John Barry with his music, and especially his arrangement and orchestration of the song, and the Dame’s virtuosity with the lyrics and her intonation matched each other perfectly. At no time do they upstage the other in the piece. Barry scored it with all the right touches — note the bass line he quietly builds throughout the piece and how he uses it to touch off the tune’s crescendos. Not to mention, he weaved Bassey’s singing flawlessly all the way through to where the final result is a theme song that’s just a smidgen better than their first time together for the third Bond film. This is a theme title tune that works on all cylinders and is their best collaboration in the series, IMO. Trivia: “John Barry enticed Shirley Bassey’s passionate rendering of this song by suggesting that she should imagine that she was singing about a penis. Don Black recalled to the Sunday Times August 10, 2008: “But he never said that to me when I was writing it. I was writing about a diamond!”"

Your turn to list a theme song favorite

“… I’ve often wondered what movies from the 21st century would stand the test of time, like Casablanca, Gone With The Wind or Out of the Past. If there is even such a thing as TV and channels in the future. What would programming look like in 30 or 40 years from now?”

The following is my contribution to this online project and surmises why I think the film adaptation by director Alfonso Cuarón and his screenwriters of P. D. James’s 1993 novel The Children of Men will endure to become a Future Classic.

A brief synopsis of the film: in the future time of 2027, the world of man has taken a decidedly bleak and chaotic turn for the worst. The world appears on the brink of a total societal breakdown. Terrorism and environmental damage are rampant, and the few places on the planet where things are seemingly under control (in the U.K. for this story) seem to have gone the fascist, military control route… big time. The reason for all of the despairing calamity comes down to one significant fact: the 18 years of human infertility. Theo Faron (marvelously played by Clive Owen) is one of the lucky ones — as defined by the fact that he is a U.K. citizen with a job, and not one of the ill-fated refugees clamoring to stay on Britain’s shores. You can tell the military and politicians consider them the ‘barbarian horde’ by their less than humane treatment of the outsiders. The Britain that “soldiers on” has become the cold gray sanctuary (and a testament to how bad it is elsewhere). The former activist is content to live out the remaining years of shared melancholy in alcohol-induced drudgery with his handful of friends. At least, before they euthanize themselves. Just about everyone here is in a joyless state. That is, until his estranged wife (the wonderful Julianne Moore in the all-too-short role of Julian) re-enters his life with a proposition to find a way to illegally transport a fugitive (“a fugi”) across the police state lines.

[spoiler warning: some key elements of the film are revealed in this article]

It’s almost a point of pride that I came around in appreciation to some extraordinary film only after their subsequent re-screenings. Let the record show I did not hold in high regard any of the following initially: Pulp Fiction, Blue Velvet, and Blade Runner. The same was the case here. My initial viewing of Children of Men left me with the impression that this was a remarkably disheartening film done with extraordinary skill by the rising Mexican director, Alfonso Cuarón. Honestly, I hadn’t any mounting desire to see it again anytime soon because of its initial impact. I’ll simply write that off as I did not know what I was looking at (yeah… that sounds like CYA to me, too). Thankfully, my fellow blogger and duo post contributor, the Scientist Gone Wordy roused me from that early disregard and got me to take a closer look at it once more. I’m surely glad I did.

LAST ONE TO DIE
PLEASE TURN OUT THE LIGHT ~ graffiti scrawled along a wall

I now firmly believe the story makes an insightful look at humankind’s capacity for self-awareness, emotion, and ultimately… hope. Author James’ (along with the film’s screenwriters Timothy J. Sexton, David Arata, Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, and Cuarón himself) concept of making every conscious being in her tale (those left in the resulting pandemonium, that is) painfully mindful to the fact that each of them is the last of their kind is a dauntingly stark idea to come to grips with. For both those on the screen, as well as those watching the film or reading the novel. Being sentient is a double-edged sword, it seems. You are aware of yourself and others, at least those you care about, but have come to know, all too well, your time on this earth is fleetingly finite. For most of us, the only comfort found is the fact that we constantly renew ourselves (as a species) through human reproduction, be it naturally or artificially. We take solace in living on through our children, whether they’re yours personally or not.

But, when there are no offspring, only one denuded and grim future remains. And it’s here that the filmmakers went above and beyond with their story and art direction. They present the audience with a visual terrain that looks like it is headed for its last winter, alright. This is especially so when the story reaches the Bexhill refugee camp. Think of it as a cross between the cold, dreary England shown in Mike Hodges’ terrific Get Carter film (for which supporting actor Michael Caine also appeared) and Stanley Kubrick’s horrific killing ground from the Battle of Huế in his Vietnam War motion picture, Full Metal Jacket. The children of men in this story certainly have a field day with it to be sure. Additionally, one cannot ignore how the movie’s producers conspicuously incorporated some recent and stark remnants of the decade of the 00′s as part of the film’s social and political commentary (ones that will undoubtably resound for years to come). Once the lead characters (including Claire-Hope Ashitey as the importantly pregnant Kee) reach the climatic third act, the film is packed with allusions and symbolism relating to this distinct period: 9/11, Abu Ghraib, torture, and the political scapegoating of immigrants. The relic of which remains quite powerful.

As well, the symbolism of religion is used quite effectively throughout the picture by director/writer Cuarón. The Christian exemplars of the Fishes (the revolutionary group depicted) and flocks (the sheep and shepard walk-through were a tad obvious for those who’ve seen the film) were certainly present, and were used to instill a faith that there’s a light at the end of a dark tunnel. All the more, there’s the shadow of a Hamas-like uprising presented in the refugee camp, too. Even with all that, this is essentially a journey film — Theo’s journey. His path from utter pessimism (through the darkest of times and the loss of his dearest friends along the way) to ultimately one of hope at his, and the film’s, end remains at the core of the story-line. As a parent of two myself, I was moved to the point of tears at where Theo arrives by the film’s surprising and abrupt end title. The other unexpected sign I stumbled upon in later viewing was the optimistic use of animals and pets. Note all of the cats and dogs that Theo attracts throughout the film. It is a purposeful ploy in this impressive work, and meant to buoy the character (as well as the audience) across the hardship.

I’d also note another extraordinary facet of this film, besides the passage and distinct mood of the piece. That is, director Alfonso Cuarón’s decision and execution of the number of long takes and extended tracking shots used throughout Children of Men. The camera work alone (with additional kudos to Peter Hannan and Emmanuel Lubezki) in these startling segments is nothing short of astonishing when you take them all in. On repeated viewing, one in particular really hits me like no other I’ve come across. The climatic action set demonstrated the supreme skill of the camera operator, the director and ensemble actors, and the unpredictability of the story all at once. If you’ve seen the film, you know the one I’m referring to. It is Theo’s rescue of Kee at Bexhill, and their subsequent walk out of a building, all of which occurs in the midst of a violent, chaotic, bullet-ridden firefight. The scene somehow, among all of its pervasive bloodshed and decimation, managed to hold both turmoil and hopefulness in a precarious balance, and never dropped either (or the viewers’ attention) anytime along the way. That the segment is of the almost blindingly miraculously sort is the point. It remains one virtuoso moment, something that only the art of the moving image can deliver.

Simply put, Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men is an astounding piece of film-making, period. Apocalyptic tales are a dime a dozen these days. Still, that this film successfully incorporated an original story around a strikingly bleak setting, and yet managed to come out anywhere near a hopeful and expectant prospect makes it extraordinary, in my mind. After my initial screening of the film, I’d read it had a growing reputation among fans along the same lines of a certain startling and thought-provoking sci-fi film from 1982, Blade Runner. Admittedly, I scoffed at the idea, at first. Yet, after re-tracing Theo’s passage through a ruined human landscape, one at the outset that is simply counting down the number of his fellow-man in dreary fatalism, I’d surprisingly reached a different conclusion. Perhaps, just as Theo finishes his life knowing he helped nurture an uptick in that number, this story by the end laid claim upon that unexpected something only those films that qualify as classics ever achieve: a cinematic timelessness. Director Alfonso Cuarón clearly demonstrated he had similar budding and visionary chops of someone like a Ridley Scott with this endeavor. Theo’s journey is as remarkable as Decker’s, or maybe better relating to Roy Batty’s, in my opinion. For all that, this film in particular remains one to savor, contemplate, and return to in the years to come.

Continuing my thoughts from February regarding the use of song in film, “needle dropped” tunes are not officially considered part of a film score — those orchestral, choral, or instrumental pieces some consider background music. I think both are utilized as cues by filmmakers for a specific purpose or to elicit certain reactions by the audience. I’m fascinated by this in general, and movie soundtracks have specifically intrigued me. They represent a convergence of the music and film arts I’ve allocated much time toward. Some movie soundtracks (many my favorites) have incorporated those songs the director or music programmer have showcased in their movie along with the film’s score.

A few filmmakers have made it part of their filmography to incorporate popular song as a regular element in their work. Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, and others do this very well. So, I’ve claimed this use of music, whether others like it or not, is very much a part of the movie experience and related to its composition. It is something I continue to watch out and listen for it in my movie viewing. Giving credit where it is due, I never would have started anything like this series if not for my blogging colleague over at Fog’s Movie Review. It was his excellent, Tossin’ It Out There: What’s YOUR Favorite Song From a Movie?, that kicked it all off:

“… there’s a deep connection between the two arts, and sometimes that winds up creating an inseparable bond between the two in the viewer’s mind.”

Once more, I’ve selected a song used in more than one movie. Like the opera aria I noted for the Patrick Cassidy piece in this series, we’re again in the classical music genre. This, another mournful piece, was used in a pair of films by two very different directors and film scorers. Both used the music in equally isolated deep space scenes from two very different sci-fi motion pictures almost two decades apart — I’m referring to the Adagio movement from Aram Khachaturian’s four-act Gayne Ballet Suite. An adagio is the term that refers to the speed the music is played, in this case “slow and stately (literally, “at ease”) (66–76 bpm)”.

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Stanley Kubrick’s eighth film is well-known to both science-fiction and film aficionados (along with a couple of my friends who still find it hard to sit through ). One of its chief distinctions is that the filmmaker famously (or infamously) used classical music pieces from existing recordings for the soundtrack (throwing out Alex North’s score without his knowledge — he only found out  after he saw the film’s première screening). Kubrick’s selections had the effect of making the story, with its breakthrough special effects and the imagined future presented, more relative and relatable to the contemporary audience (then 33 years beforehand). The Adagio sequence heralds the entrance of the Discovery space ship and its small crew on their way to the secretive Jupiter mission. It is simply an elegant and evocative piece of music, one used by Kubrick to denote the lonely and tentative existence these people find themselves in the large cold vacuum of space (which is its own reference to all of human kind on the third rock from the Sun). The scene uses music as dialogue (for a film that hasn’t much of it) and it is one of the most cinematic and amazing sequences ever filmed, IMO.

Aliens (1986)

Director James Cameron and composer James Horner had a number of understandable hurdles to overcome in delivering a sequel to one of the more iconic films and scores that closed the previous decade. Alien was all that, plus it delivered one of the best opening movie titles ever put on celluloid. To their credit, they took Aliens in another direction, yet maintained the core to that film and with a clear homage to another sci-fi classic (the one above). Horner’s score is less subdued than Jerry Goldsmith’s, but it’s in keeping to each of their film’s narratives. Aliens‘ opening titles moved to establish Ripley at the long end of her lonely journey from the previous movie’s finale to this point by dropping in 2001′s musical ship analogy by way of Horner’s reproduced tribute to Gayne’s Adagio. The movement segues in when the shuttle appears on-screen in that segment. Perhaps not coincidentally, the adagio commences as the composer’s credit appears. You’ll note his stamp on his piece is more up-tempo while still maintaining a forlorn mood of the music. It’s a tuneful hint to what’s to come and a nice acknowledgment to the ’68 film.

[note: the only video for this title sequence is at the Art of the Title site and is not available for sharing, but you can view it via this link. YouTube does have the represented music track and is embedded below, the quoted section is from the 1:00 mark to 2:19 by the composer on the soundtrack]

[Wikipedia reports James Horner has quoted from this piece of music three times in his scores: Aliens, Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. As well, "The Adagio was also used, among other pieces by Khachaturian, in Tinto Brass's Caligula." For that last notorious film, I was probably distracted by other things to notice that particular musical piece ]

Other Posts in the Series

• Same Song, Different Movie: Ready, Steady, Go by Paul Oakenfold
• Same Song, Different Movie: Vide Cor Meum by Patrick Cassidy
• Same Song, Different Movie: Street Life by Will Jennings & Joe Sample

As I mentioned some weeks ago, I remain a fan of the ahead of its time, little seen, and under-appreciated masked crime fighter TV series from the 1966-7 season, The Green Hornet. More so, the other thing that marked it distinctly was its theme song. The tune used reflected back to a time where such things were important in ways now long forgotten in today’s programming. Decades ago, it was a practice of sort to aspire toward a show’s signature tune to be liked enough that it’d make its way up the pop music charts. The Hornet’s would do just that and influence those that came afterward.

Back then, it wasn’t unheard of for television shows to employ classical music tracks as their theme songs. The Lone Ranger famously used the William Tell Overture as its musical prologue. And the long-time radio program for The Green Hornet, the one that preceded its 60s namesake TV series, used the orchestral interlude for Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov‘s opera The Tale of Tsar Saltan, Flight of the Bumblebee, which was composed in 1899–1900, for its introduction.

This piece has long been enjoyed by classical music listeners (casual or serious) and it remains a popular melody because it’s simultaneously catchy and playful. You can imagine the flight of said large hairy bee as the notes zigzag through your ears and into your head. Despite that, the instrumental tune remains an obvious challenge by those playing it. And for the very same reason it draws listeners, the frantic pace and intricate melody make it so. Wikipedia may have explained why that is best:

“It is not so much the pitch or range of the notes that are played that challenges the musician, but simply the musician’s ability to move to them quickly enough; because of this and its complexity, it requires a great deal of skill to perform.”

However, for the television show version it was significantly rearranged for the television series by Billy May. That noted musician/arranger/conductor gave it a decided kick by incorporating a big band jazz style makeover that was nicknamed “Green Bee“. And with that, The Green Hornet theme became best known for the trumpet solo played by the New Orléans-bred music legend, Al Hirt. If skill with jazz and that particular instrument were ever needed to deliver on a musical piece, one that really demanded it, only someone in stature of this trumpeter and band-leader could carry through with the challenge. And he surely did that.

While Lionel Newman conducted the orchestra in support of the piece, Al Hirt’s solo is so exemplary it pops out and dominates once the song’s opening notes pass. Literally, Al’s virtuoso trumpet quickly pushes everything to the background. While his Java recording from 1964 endures as the trumpeter’s biggest chart hit, it’s safe to say Al Hirt’s version for Flight of the Bumblebee remains just about iconic for the eyes and ears of those old enough to remember the program and its signature theme. So much so, director Quentin Tarantino, in a clear homage to Bruce Lee and The Green Hornet TV program, re-introduced it to younger generations when he re-tasked the song for a transitional sequence in Kill Bill Vol. 1. Needless to say, it’s far from forgotten now.

Kim: “Hold me.”
Edward: “I can’t.”

Theatre

The Bruin Theatre:

Movie

Time

December 1990: as I’ve noted in this series, the area of Westwood Village (the small college town/district to the south of the large U.C.L.A. campus) was a regular haunt for me in my younger days. With a dense amount of unique film theaters and various eateries clustered together for students, visitors, and tourists alike, it was the movie date hotspot for a certain time during the 70s and 80s. And while our newlywed status lasted, my bride would accompany moi for all such excursions there.

This probably led she-who-must-be-obeyed to attend motion pictures she may not have taken in first-run, or at all. Still, having her with me on those occasions I wouldn’t trade for a month of Sundays. She is special, this one. So, sitting next to my bride watching Edward Scissorhands only added to the moment and the memory, her not quite the Tim Burton fan and all.

Bringing my wife to the Bruin Theatre was just icing on the cake. Studios from time-to-time still have movie premieres there to this day. But since this beautiful hall is in the shadow of her landmark sister theater right across the street, this one is outshined too often, unfortunately. It’s too bad. Patrons who once graced her auditorium, years ago, would note the murals there that kept them company in the dark as they glowed. They’re sadly painted over, now. At least, her doors remain open and you can still catch a movie there.

The entire series can be found here. If you’re interested how it’s put together, click here.

“That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.”

Theatre

The Bridge Cinema de Lux:

Images c/o Cinema Treasures site

Movie

Time

December 31, 2002: honestly, my wife did not know what a single movie started the year before. The only one between the two of us to have read J.R.R. Tolkien‘s three volumes of his Lord of the Rings saga (along with The Hobbit), she alone had an idea what would be translated on to the big screen. I did not. Even she got caught up with the epic fantasy tale all over again in December of 2001 when we saw The Fellowship of the Ring on one of our now infrequent movie dates. She hadn’t realized a pattern had been set in motion. Silly rabbit.

Back then, with a seven and three year-old at home, making arrangements for a parents movie-night out was an exercise in coordination, even under normal circumstances. Tying it to a weeknight (it was a Tuesday) and the New Year’s Eve holiday (did I mention we saw the first LOTR on the last day of the year? No?) made it that much more of a challenge. But, I was not to be deterred, even if my lovely spouse told me we did not have to see the second installment exactly on the identical day, or at the very same theater complex, once more.

Men and women sure think differently. I am nothing if not a stickler for tradition (indeed, not if I’m making it up as I go along). Returning to The Bridge Cinema de Lux (today now owned and run by the RAVE theater chain) was a given in my estimation. With the sitter arranged and booked (by me), off we went for the early evening screening of The Two Towers. Still, there was no way she-who-must-be-obeyed would not have us back to the house later than 10 PM, especially with ‘Eve’ revelers all about. You see, there is a limit she will tolerate from the film fanatic she married. Naturally, I made sure we’d be back to this same spot one year later.

The entire series can be found here. If you’re interested how it’s put together, click here.

Previous: Sci-Fi

[Note: I moved this post up from its regular 13th publication date because that lands on Mother's Day this month.]

This is the continuation of a series I began in January of this year that examines and remarks on The American Film Institute and its recent propensity to create Top 10 lists. Specifically, the organization’s need to gather publicity by documenting their celebration of cinema’s centennial via a series of TV specials. Each time, the AFI went about giving importance to a set of motion pictures based on criteria and judgments their groups of ‘experts’ determined. It has generated opinions among fans and film aficionados ever since in varying degrees of disagreement. If you’re unaware, the AFI is a non-profit organization created by the National Endowment for the Arts back in the 60s. One of its main charters is the preservation of American film legacy. As they put it,

“Each special honors a different aspect of excellence in American film.”

Unquestionably, their prime purpose was to get people talking about film. So be it. This series on AFI’s Top 10s (out of their 100s lists) for 2012 is my motivated response to compare their picks with a moviegoer (me) per each of their indexes. Naturally, I’m fully aware that readers’ mileage may vary (indeed, we know they will) when it comes to these selections. Fair enough. Either way, it’s going to be painful as picking one above the other always is in such endeavors. You’re invited to add your own and/or disagree all you want in the comments or your blog site (all I ask is that you leave a link so we, the readers, can peruse). Shall we continue?

Fantasy

AFI defines “fantasy” as a genre where live-action characters inhabit imagined settings and/or experience situations that transcend the rules of the natural world.

1. The Wizard of Oz
2. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
3. It’s a Wonderful Life
4. King Kong
5. Miracle on 34th Street
6. Field of Dreams
7. Harvey
8. Groundhog Day
9. The Thief of Bagdad
10. Big

1. It’s a Wonderful Life [AFI #3] – as I summed it up late last year: “This motion picture seems to be about dreams that turn into nightmares, and torments that transform to blessings. As film historian Jeanine Basinger once wrote about Frank Capra’s blend of optimism, humor and patriotism, it meant understanding, “… darkness, despair, and the need to fight for things you care about…“ This film personified that point. “Capra’s heroes often undergo real suffering“, she added. George Bailey wins, but also loses… and sacrifices, only to gain many fold. And with all that, It’s a Wonderful Life became the rare film that remains greater than the sum of its parts.“
2. The Wizard of Oz [AFI #1] - Victor Fleming’s (with various inputs from George Cukor, Mervyn LeRoy, Norman Taurog, and King Vidor) grand musical fantasy has to be near the top in a list like this. If IaWL wasn’t in consideration, I’d have matched AFI’s top pick. It used to be an annual event when this appeared on television growing up, and which I never missed. Those flying monkeys still frighten my kids, too.
3. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – in my opinion, Alfonso Cuarón‘s taking over the third installment singly saved the adaptation of this book series to film, and it remains the high point for this viewer with its beautiful mix of dark and light maturation. If only Cuarón would have done the rest, I’d have been more than happy.
4. The Princess Bride – the sly wink by author William Goldman (done to perfection by director Rob Reiner) of a classic fairy tale, with swordplay, giants, an evil prince, a beautiful princess, and yes, some kissing, is just so much damn fun. Plus, “I swear you couldn’t find a more youthfully beautiful performer to center on. And, Robin Wright as Buttercup wasn’t bad-looking, either.“
5. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers – the first one was great and the last film won all the friggin’ the awards there was, and yet it is the second one that remains the best in my mind. Peter Jackson’s middle installment hits on all cylinders for story, epic battles, and fantastic atmosphere. Why is it that many mid-point films in a trilogy are the strongest? I wonder.
6. Pan’s Labyrinth – likely the darkest and most beautiful fantasy film on this list. Guillermo Del Toro’s remarkably sad and magical work is simply something to behold. It is original and brilliant, and a testament to this Mexican filmmaker. Who would have thought an examination of Fascism would have worked so well and poignantly through Fantasy.
7. Edward Scissorhands – there are a number of Tim Burton films that could have made my list, but I think this one epitomizes the artful sense in his work. More so, this film captures the sentiment, appeal, and poignancy for those who only want to fit in, but their beauty simply won’t allow it. The film’s final scene still moves me to no end.
8. Field of Dreams [AFI #6] – probably the most memorable (and loved) fantasy film for most men I know (me, included). If director Phil Alden Robinson is known for anything in film, it’s this one. Adapted from W.P. Kinsella’s Shoeless Joe novel. The film wears its 60s heart on its sleeve most proudly, though tempered with a latter decades viewpoint. We connect with it in ways most men tend to keep to ourselves, which is at times its own detriment.
9. Dragonslayer – I’ll finish up my last two slots with some distinctly 80s films, the first of which still incorporates the best dragon ever portrayed on the big screen. Matthew Robbins took a Disney film to new dramatic heights with this tale, which also unexpectedly examined the move away from the occult and multi-deities to the belief in monotheism. And yes, we all know the virgin sacrifice aspect could have been solved another way, but don’t let that get in your way.
10. Legend – this Ridley Scott film (his fourth, right after Blade Runner) is an adult fantasy that looks simply stunning, as you’d expect from this filmmaker. It’s imagery pre-dates Peter Jackson’s trilogy, but you can see the commonality and influence it had upon the younger director. My tenth pick refers to the latter director’s cut of the film (as just about every DC is superior than the studio’s theatrical cuts for most of his films). Believe me, watching Tim Curry as the Lord of Darkness is something to behold.

Note: this is one of those interesting genres as, seemingly, the AFI does not recognize horror as its own separate entity. Fantasy inherently is the closest to that category as it conjures up the fantastic and horrific with equal aplomb and ease. It’s why those filmmakers who create them can have some very dark elements in their tales, though most viewers can incorporate or look passed them in this genre, even when some of those same moviegoers won’t go near horror. I choose my list with both light and dark components within for, as I mentioned in a post from last December for my number one pick:

“… you’re not going to have a silver lining without that dark cloud to show it off.”

Yes, I dropped King Kong entirely. I think of it more a “monster” flick than fantasy, but that’s just me. As well, Miracle on 34th Street was kicked as I considered it more as a straight Christmas/Holiday film. I know, I’m splitting hairs, here, given my selection for my #1 slot. But since it’s intrinsically more dark, I ignored that aspect and went with one of my all-time heroes, George Bailey. LOTR: The Fellowship of the Ring was replaced with the stronger, middle film in the trilogy (though an argument could be made that all three are one big, very long single movie with two long-ass intermissions). I have no real qualms about Harvey, Groundhog Day, The Thief of Bagdad, or Big. They’re all good, though adore Groundhog Day‘s cynicism, but I like those on my fantasy list a bit more. Their mix of dark and the dramatic deliver for this make-believer .

For those keeping score, only three of AFI’s picks were kept on my list (the lowest so far).

What would be yours?

Next Up: Mystery

Continuing my thoughts from last February regarding the use of song in film, I’ll reiterate some that I’ve previously said. “Needle dropped” tunes are not considered part of a film score — those orchestral, choral, or instrumental pieces some consider background music. Still, I truly believe those established songs and specially written pieces are utilized as potent cues by filmmakers to elicit certain reactions by the audience. I’m fascinated by this in general, and movie soundtracks have specifically intrigued me. They represent a convergence of the music and film arts I’ve allocated much time toward (my wife can back me up on that regard ). Some movie soundtracks have incorporated songs the director or music programmer have showcased in their movie along with the film’s score.

A few filmmakers have made it part of their filmography to incorporate popular song as a regular element in their work. Quentin Tarantino, Michael Mann and others do this very well. Hell, Tarantino has been known to throw in dialogue from the actual motion picture as a track for the listener to relive. So, I’ve claimed this use of music, whether others like it or not, is very much a part of the movie experience and related to its composition. It is something I continue to watch out and listen for it in my movie viewing. Giving credit where it is due, I never would have started anything like this series if not for my blogging colleague over at Fog’s Movie Review. It was his excellent, Tossin’ It Out There: What’s YOUR Favorite Song From a Movie?, that kicked it all off:

“… there’s a deep connection between the two arts, and sometimes that winds up creating an inseparable bond between the two in the viewer’s mind.”

Once more, I’ve selected a song used in more than one movie. This particular piece featured one stellar and breakthrough jazz vocal. While it would make inroads onto Billboard’s Top 100 for popular song (reached #36) that year, the track simultaneously climbed up Jazz (stayed at the top for an incredible 20 weeks), R&B (hit as high as #17), and even Disco (#75) charts after its source album was released in 1979. Back then, those of us into jazz fusion were introduced to its original 11:18 cut on FM stations known to play long album takes. The tune would power us “decade survivors” out of the 70s as only it could.

Sharky’s Machine (1981)

The Crusaders‘ guest vocalist, Randy Crawford, on that very LP would make her soulful, memorable entrance into U.S. listeners ears and hearts with this song’s first few emotive lyrics. It is the one and only Street Life, lyrics and music by Will Jennings and Joe Sample. As upbeat and exuberant as the tune comes across, with its vibrant vocal and jazz/funk arrangement, the lyrics are essentially quite downcast. The ‘street life’ it professes is one of loneliness, drugs and prostitution. Director Burt Reynolds in his highly underrated and under appreciated film (at least in my opinion), Sharky’s Machine, employed the track in that sense. For the most part, Reynolds shows unforeseen skill as a filmmaker, here. His tracking shot at the start of the thriller is particularly deft (and observe he’ll reverse it for the closing credits). That scene’s progression (right up to the director’s title credit) has a marvelous flow to it. It employed a refashioned take of that Crusaders song convincingly to set the mood for that entire sequence, with Ms. Crawford reprising her vocal in this version.

Jackie Brown (1997)

Given the credibility and reputation I’ve already laid out for director Quentin Tarantino, it shouldn’t surprise I’d have him in at least one of these articles. And Tarantino may have deployed this song even better in this, one of his more mature films from the 90s, Jackie Brown. Like Reynold’s film, it was adapted from an existing novel, one by Elmore Leonard (Burt’s was by William Diehl). As this film represents those on the other side of the thin blue line, Jennings’ lyrics come into more focus as the protagonist, beautifully portrayed by Pam Grier, is about to employ her gamble with the cops and her gun-runner employer, Ordell Robbie. Her risk to get herself out of ‘The Life’ is itself freeing for the character and it comes across effectively in the sequence. Again, Ms. Crawford’s vocal track, in yet another take with the song, brought that forth as no one else could.

Other Posts in the Series

• Same Song, Different Movie: Ready, Steady, Go by Paul Oakenfold
• Same Song, Different Movie: Vide Cor Meum by Patrick Cassidy

Thor: “He’s my brother…”
Natasha Romanoff: “He killed 80 people in 2 days.”
Thor: “… He’s adopted.”

Theatre

The El Capitan Theatre:

Images c/o Cinema Treasures site

Movie

Time

May 4, 2012: a couple of weeks ago, my sister-in-law (visiting at the time) mentioned that the law enforcement agency she works for was offering tickets to employees and their friends/family to see the inaugural blockbuster of the summer movie season, The Avengers, on opening day. “Are you going?”, we asked. “Please,”, she responded, “who is crazy enough to get up at o’dark-thirty to catch a movie? The special screening is at 4 AM!” Let the record show that my wife just pointed. Then, they both looked over my way.

What could I say? “Yeah, I’d go.“, came my reply. I mean, given that this highly anticipated movie was going to happen at the El Capitan Theatre, right across the street from the ‘Chapter 11′ Kodak Theater and its famed neighbor venue, why wouldn’t I? Needless to say, I bought two tickets. Disney’s premium movie hall on Hollywood Blvd. is well-known in these parts:

“In 1991, the former Paramount Theater was reopened by Disney and Pacific Theaters following a glorious restoration of this Hollywood gem situated across the street from Mann’s Chinese. As the flagship theater of the Disney Studio empire, it is part of the Pacific Theaters circuit of which Disney owns a large stake.

Every major animated release from Walt Disney Pictures Animation premieres here complete with a live stage show and more. The theater was the first in the United States to announce an online movie ticketing and printing system.”

This boisterous and brimming screening followed the equally packed 12:01 AM showing, believe it or not. I saw those patrons heading back to their cars as I arrived, and I got there just before 3 AM (having dragged myself out of bed at 2 AM to get myself ready). I was in line (yes, there were plenty of folk already there) by 3:05 AM. The father of my daughter’s schoolmate, another one unafraid of wifely ridicule, joined me, in fact. We were greeted and entertained as only Disney can in a place like this. How was the movie, you ask? I think my blogging colleagues over at Radiator Heaven and The Focus Filmographer nailed both of our giddy opinions and reactions with their reviews, found here and here. Needless to say, I got to work fairly early that day.

The entire series can be found here.

Recently, author Joseph Maddrey concluded a wonderful set of articles with his final entry of a quite splendid southwestern trip he undertook and cataloged. His Four Corners Tour series looked, both pictorially and historically, at some decidedly beautiful locations in that region (a number of which were utilized in some classic and iconic films). It a worthy piece of writing and I highly recommend it to my readers. What was almost as interesting was his inclusion at article’s end of a memorable music video from the distinct period of big hair and padded shoulders that was the 80s. Mike and the Mechanics’ Silent Running being that song. Likewise, Joe nailed the catchy nature of that track with his reply to my comment on how well he concluded his series so stylishly:

“Mark my words: That song will be stuck in your head for the rest of the day!”

So true. While I’m older, and thus shaped musically by the earlier decades of the 60s and 70s, I never will be immune to the unmistakable tunes of that period (as my blogging colleague Sci-Fi Fanatic knows only too well). Too much happened, both in the country and personally. Given the vagaries of the universe, I’ve tilted back toward the 80s of late. Just last Saturday, the good folk over at Warner Archive started carrying (by way of the MGM Limited Collection) the rare Sho Kosugi Ninja classic from that era, Pray for Death, in their online store. So I thought to end this week by trying to return the favor to my friends Joe and SFF alike with, hopefully, an equally definitive and haunting track from that same decade. I choose for this Kyrie by the quartet which was a “product of the L.A. session-musician community“ known as Mr. Mister.

Some things to keep in mind about this song, the second by Mr. Mister to hit #1 in the US (the first being “Broken Wings“), care of Songfacts: ”Kyrie Eleison” is Greek for “Lord, have mercy.” It is used as a prayer in both Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox services. Greek was the original language of the New Testament and it was later translated in to Latin. When this was a hit, very few people listening to Top 40 radio had any idea that they were singing “Lord Have Mercy, Down the Road that I must travel!” The religious significance was mostly lost (Jeff of Charleston, SC offered up that info). The group wrote this while they were on tour with Adam Ant, a year before they recorded it.

When the song debuted (by the way, only a month after Silent Running was released, Joe) in December 1985, my world to that point was undergoing its own seismic shift. The seeds that would break up my penultimate girlfriend of the time, she-whose-name-must-not-be-spoken, and I were well planted by then. Though it didn’t seem like it at the time, that ultimately was a good thing. Songs such as this made the segue somehow bearable. Still, this track, with its initially slow ramp up, manages to unleash a contagious high energy with good style. And it was a testament to that 80s fashion of rebounding back. Its steady drumbeat and keyboard rhythms, accompanied by strong electric guitar strums, along with its telltale vocals and tight chorus, brought out some of the best, or at least well-known, aspects of the infectious pop song-manship department for that musical epoch. I think it was just too hard not to bob your head or tap a toe when this one let loose.

This album was the high water mark for the group’s popularity in the 80s. Whether you buy into Kyrie‘s underlying religious tone or not, a certain breakthrough sci-fi film (one with its own underlying messianic bent) seemed to make that connection. Even if their eras were very different, why else the next decade over did the character of Morpheus greet the newly freed Neo, early on in The Matrix, with the title of the song’s source album as dialogue, “Welcome to the real world.”? Hmm… I wonder. Anyway, it’s a song that I don’t think should or hopefully won’t be forgotten anytime soon. No matter how, it embodied the decade, like Joe’s pick and those that Sci-fi Fanatic periodically highlights. So, gentlemen, make sure to you comb out that mullet just right, and please, be sure to turn up your collar when you give it a listen . A happy and tuneful weekend to you all.

The wind blows hard against this mountain side
Across the sea into my soul
It reaches into where I cannot hide
Setting my feet upon the road

My heart is old it holds my memories
My baby burns agem like flame
Somewhere between the soul and soft machine
Is where I find myself again

*CHORUS*
Kyrie Eleison
Down the road that I must travel
Kyrie Eleison
Through the darkness of the night
Kyrie Eleison
Where I’m going will you follow
Kyrie Eleison
On a highway in the light

When I was young I thought of growing old
Of what my life would mean to me
Would I have followed down my chosen road
Or only wished what I could be

Oh…Oh…Oh
Oh…Oh…Oh
Oh…Oh…Oh
Oh…Oh…Oh

(rinse and repeat to the end)