review

82. Casablanca

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Casablanca is a movie that probably shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. It has a pretty star-studded cast, but it’s based on an unproduced play and the script was being written while filming was already underway. The script had three writers on it, and it was two against one the whole time. Paul Henreid, who played Victor Laszlo, apparently hated the rest of the cast. The movie is also more than the sum of its parts. The performances are good, the dialogue is mostly fine and full of famous lines, the story is decent but nothing special, but when it’s all put together and the movie fades to black, you’re left with a calming, resolute feeling in your heart.

Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) owns and operates Rick’s Cafe in Casablanca, Morocco, and his door is open to everyone – French, American refugees, Nazis. He claims no loyalty to any political group, though he previously had a part in the Spanish Civil War. A thief named Ugarte (Peter Lorre) asks Rick to hold a couple of letters of transit he got from killing two German men until he can sell them, which Rick agrees to do. However, Ugarte is caught by local police captain Louis Renault (Claude Rains) and dies while in custody, taking the knowledge of the letters to his grave. Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman), Rick’s former love, walks in and asks Sam, the piano player, to play “As Time Goes By”. Considering Ilsa ran out on Rick years ago, he’s less than happy to see her. It doesn’t help that she’s got her husband, Victor Laszlo, who is a fugitive resistance leader, with her. They could really benefit from some letters of transit. However, Rick isn’t too keen on parting with them after being spurned by Ilsa. Laszlo then convinces Rick to use the letters to take Ilsa to safety, knowing of their former romance while he was thought to be dead. Rick seemingly plans to do just that and have Laszlo framed for a crime in the process, but at the last minute, he sends Ilsa and Laszlo on the plane and walks away with Renault.

Everyone who sees it can admit that Casablanca is great, but what’s fascinating is that no one came seem to agree on why it’s great. At the time of its release, the United States had been involved in World War II for just over a year, so there was a heightened sense of patriotism in moviegoers that gravitated them toward Rick’s ultimate sacrifice. Over time, analysis of Rick’s sacrifice has shifted from the political to the personal, and a lot of emphasis gets placed on its status as a “classic”.

This sounds like I’m arguing why this movie doesn’t deserve to be on the list. It does. It’s a great story, a romantic drama with Nazi occupation in the background, but it’s a really good example of the effect time and culture has on the success of a movie. Casablanca received its accolades because it’s great. It exploded because of circumstance.

Bonus Review: Gone with the Wind

Gone with the Wind is a sweeping Civil War epic running just under four hours. But don’t worry your pretty little bladder, there’s an intermission, in case that’s a deterrent for you.

Gone with the Wind is the timeless tale of the love between a woman and her plantation. Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh, in the role she is rightfully known for) has the worst luck in the world. She loses her parents, three husbands, and two children (only one of these simply leaves, the others all die), she has to work and marry to keep her family’s plantation alive and in her possession, and the only person in the world who genuinely likes her is the wife of the man she loves (probably the worst of them all). Really, it’s the story of woman’s fight for survival at all costs, and despite her bad luck and the time in which she lives, she does it. It’s a romantic look at a very unromantic life.

Vivien Leigh puts in the performance of lifetime by bouncing between emotions, even within the same scene. She’s happy, sad, angry, distraught, flustered, excited and scared, all within the four-hour span. She and Clark Gable are obviously the focal point of the movie, but some of the supporting cast hold their own and keep themselves from being regulated to the background. Specifically, Olivia de Havilland and Hattie McDaniel. Hattie McDaniel even won an Academy Award for her performance, marking the first time an African American won the award. The film has a mixed reputation with the Black community for its portrayal of the slaves in personality and in perpetuating the “happy negro” myth. However, much has been said for Hattie McDaniel’s performance and subsequent win as some semblance of progress, though that’s still a point of contention. The head of the NAACP at the time referred to Hattie McDaniel as an “Uncle Tom” – a derogatory term that comes from the most egregious offender of the “happy negro” myth – but McDaniel replied, “I’d rather make seven hundred dollars a week playing a maid than seven dollars being one.”

Regardless of what’s outdated in the movie, it still holds up. It’s a story of determination and preservation, and should be viewed by everyone at least once. It’s a valuable piece of cinematic history and the highest grossing movie of all time, still, when adjusted for inflation.

84. Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

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For those who didn’t live through the decade, like myself, it’s an odd realization that Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure was released after the 80s teen comedy scene was already petering out, because it fits right in with the likes of Back to the Future, Weird Science, Better Off Dead, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. And it’s a film that shouldn’t…I don’t know, work? Two Valley guys travel through time in a phone booth and steal celebrities throughout history for a school project? If I pitched that to you, you’d kick me out most expeditiously and find a doctor to prescribe me Olanzapine. Thankfully, the De Laurentiis Entertainment Group took a chance. Nevermind that they went bankrupt before the movie was released.

Bill S. Preston, Esq. (Alex Winter) and Ted “Theodore” Logan (Keanu Reeves) are on the verge of failing their History class most egregiously, and if they do, the two will be separated forever when Ted is shipped off to military school. This isn’t just bad for Bill and Ted, it’s bad for the future. In the year 2688, a council living in a perfect world founded on the music and philosophy of the Great Ones (Bill and Ted), decide to send their best man, Rufus, with a telephone booth that works as a time machine to help them with their project. Bill and Ted are at a local Circle K, racking their brains on what they’re going to do, when Rufus shows up. At first, they wonder if they can trust this man from the future, but then future Bill and Ted pop in with a booth-ful of historical figures on their way to their presentation and confirm that Rufus is a good dude. Reassured, present Bill and Ted take their empty phonebooth and begin to poach for their project. They pick up Billy the Kid, So-crates, Sigmund Frood, Beeth-oven, Noah’s wife, Joan, Genghis Khan, and Abraham Lincoln (there’s a joke about dodging a bullet somewhere in here). They arrive just in time to give the most triumphant presentation San Dimas High School has ever seen.

My love for Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure is admittedly strongly influenced by nostalgia. It was the first time I saw a movie about time travel and the first time I heard Valley speak – both things that had a large presence in other films of the decade, but because of when I viewed them, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure feels like the blueprint rather than the curtain call. The premise is so ridiculous. When they go to ancient Greece to pick up Socrates, there’s an obvious language barrier, and so when encouraged to share their own philosophy, they point to themselves, grab a handful of sand and let be carried off by the wind while quoting Kansas. The mall scene is considered a favorite among fans of the movie, even if it is a little dated. Since there’s a little bit of time before their presentation, Bill and Ted bring the historical characters to the San Dimas mall and obvious hijinks ensue. Sigmund Freud tries to hit on women in the food court, Joan of Arc takes over a jazzercise class, Beethoven tries his hands at an extensive electronic keyboard, Genghis Khan rides a skateboard out of a sporting good store, and so on. It’s funny and charming in a way, and it’s a testament to how imaginative an idea the film really is. Thank goodness the producers convinced the screenwriters to remove the part where Bill and Ted bring back Hitler.

Bonus Review: This Is Spinal Tap

This is another one of those times where the two films I review could be interchangeable. This Is Spinal Tap is just as deserving of being in the Top 100 as Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. In fact, I can openly admit, it’s the funnier of the two by a mile. Bill and Ted may have more heart and be more likeable, but Spinal Tap…well, let’s just say they deserve the movie they got. This Is Spinal Tap was the jumping off point for two important careers. Rob Reiner, who directed this as his first film, went on to make The Sure Thing, and then a string of five back-to-back hits: Stand By Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally…, Misery, and A Few Good Men – all great movies for very different reasons. Christopher Guest would go on to write, direct and star in Waiting for Guffman, Best In Show, A Mighty Wind (his costars from Spinal Tap, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer, join him again as a folk music trio, The Folksmen), and For Your Consideration. Like This Is Spinal Tap, these other films feature very basic premises and a large amount of improvisation.

Filmed as a documentary, Marty Di Bergi (Rob Reiner channeling his best Scorsese a la The Last Waltz) follows the band Spinal Tap as they prepare for a nationwide tour to promote their newest album, Smell the Glove. Spinal Tap was originally a folk group called The Originals. They changed their name to the New Originals when they found out there was another group called The Originals. Then they were an early rock ‘n’ roll group, the Thamesmen. Their only hit was “Gimme Some Money”. They finally found some success after changing their name to Spinal Tap and releasing their hippie rock song, “Listen to the Flower People”. The next logical step was to pursue heavy metal. As their tour begins, things go from bad to worse. They lose another drummer to spontaneous combustion, they have to book smaller venues due to poor ticket sales, they’re late to a show because they can’t find the stage, one of their pods malfunctions and so one of them is unable to perform the entire show, when they order a large, grand Stonehenge for the backdrop of their show, someone writes the dimensions incorrectly and so the Stonehenge they receive is incredibly tiny, they get second billing to a puppet show, relationships interfere with the band’s dynamic, oh, and the album bombs. Things seem hopeless, and the members consider throwing in the towel, but then they find out they’re a surprise hit in Japan. They pack their bags and move their tour across the Pacific.

This Is Spinal Tap is situationally funny, sure, but it’s also incredibly quotable and true to life, especially for musicians. It’s become common vernacular in the music world to “turn it up to 11” when you want to get loud (guitarist Nigel shows off his custom amps, proud that they go up to 11 instead of the usual 10 on volume, and when questioned why he didn’t just make 10 a louder volume, he responds with, “But these go to eleven”). Many rock bands have admitted to pulling a “Spinal Tap” by blowing through drummers like candy. Even more rock bands have admitted to seeing themselves in Spinal Tap – particularly getting lost backstage. Members of Twisted Sister, Alice in Chains, Ozzy Osbourne, Talking Heads, Nirvana, Aerosmith, U2, Dokken, The Misfits, Metallica and Led Zeppelin have all praised This Is Spinal Tap and acknowledged comparisons between the fictional Spinal Tap and their own bands. If you’re into rock music or just in to a good satire, This Is Spinal Tap…well, we’ll just say it goes to 11.

85. Cinema Paradiso

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I guess I have Italian films on the brain. What Bicycle Thieves and Neorealism did for the Italian movie industry in the 40s, Cinema Paradiso revived in the 80s. Considered one of the greatest films of all time, Cinema Paradiso is a movie about youth, realizing your destiny, nostalgia, and the power of movies. Basically, it’s a full-length version of that Nicole Kidman AMC ad, but actually good (Side note, but I need people besides just my wife to know this: Rewatch that ad sometime. She goes on about “we come to movie theaters to live, laugh, love, blah, blah, blah” and then she says, “and to go someplace we’ve never been before”, and when she says that, it shows a movie clip on the screen. Originally, it was a clip of Jurassic World, but recently, it changed to Avatar: The Way of Water. You know…places we’ve already been before! How are you going to say a line like that in all seriousness and then show clips from sequels?? End of rant).

Anyway, Cinema Paradiso is about young Salvatore, a boy in a Sicilian village post-World War II who gets into all sorts of trouble. By visiting the local theater, Cinema Paradiso, Salvatore develops a deep love of movies. Alfredo, the projectionist, encourages Salvatore’s passion and lets him sit in the projection booth with him as the movies play. Alfredo acts as a friend and father figure to Salvatore, who lost his father in the war, and lets him watch as Alfredo cuts out scenes of kisses and hugs from the films because the owner of the theater, the local priest, demands it despite audience reactions. One night, Cinema Paradiso catches on fire with Alfredo inside. Salvatore rescues him, but Alfredo is left permanently blind when reel of film explodes in his face. Cinema Paradiso gets rebuilt, and a teenaged Salvatore becomes the new projectionist, having been taught by Alfredo. He also purchases a camera and films random things around the village, including a girl named Elena. Salvatore falls head-over-heels for Elena, but her father does not approve, and eventually her family moves away. After a brief stint in the military, Salvatore is convinced by Alfredo to leave the village and never return, and instead become a filmmaker, and so he does. Thirty years later, he returns for Alfredo’s funeral and discovers a gift Alfredo left for him after he passed: a film reel of all the romantic scenes cut from movies being shown at Cinema Paradiso.

What a picture! The ending where Salvatore watches the film reel Alfredo left him is considered one of the greatest film endings of all time, and with good reason. It’s a montage of passion, love between man and woman, sure, but a love for how movies can make us feel. And it just goes to show that spying on people is creepy, but if you do it with a movie camera, it’s sweet and beautiful. I think that’s the message of the movie, but if that’s not it, then nostalgia for one’s childhood is. Nostalgia is a pretty hot commodity these days. It’s a selling point for movies and television, remakes of video games, increasing viewership on Facebook pages, and getting you to buy a cable plan with MeTV. Nostalgia brought back Dunkaroos from extinction, so I have surely benefitted from it. But it’s all surface-level, remember-the-good-ol’-days-type stuff. Cinema Paradiso begs you to look deeper. Yes, there’s the good, but there’s bad too in every childhood, and it’s up to you to make peace with the fact that both helped shape who you became.

Bonus Review: La La Land

Another movie about nostalgia, just geared towards old Hollywood musicals, this time. La La Land was a surprise hit from the guy who made J.K. Simmons more than just the Peanut M&M – a jazz musical, with all original songs choreography, would be a tough sell in our modern days, but after the success of Whiplash, writer-director Damien Chazelle got carte blanche to make his dream project. La La Land is an ode to the Hollywood of old and an amalgamation of Singin’ in the Rain, An American in Paris, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg and The Young Girls of Rochefort.

Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone) are two struggling artists that run into each other pretty frequently in one of the largest-populated cities in the country. Sebastian dreams of opening his own jazz club and tickling the ivories every night, while Mia wants to be a leading lady. They bond over their mutual lack of luck and quickly fall in love. While together, they push each other to pursue their dreams, but even with the added support, it doesn’t get any easier. Mia writes a one-woman play, which tanks, and Sebastian joins his friend in a pop band for the steady income but hates it. Their differing schedules keep them from seeing each other very much. After a fight, Mia goes home to Nevada, but after she leaves, a producer who caught her play wants her to audition for a role. Sebastian drives out to Nevada to convince her to come back and audition, and she successfully gets the part. Five years later, Mia is a successful actress and married with a child, but not to Sebastian. She and her husband go out for a date night and accidentally come across Sebastian’s jazz club. Between songs, Sebastian and Mia’s eyes meet, and for a brief eight minutes, they imagine what their lives could have been like together before returning to reality, briefly smiling at one another, and going their separate ways.

Sometimes, dreams don’t work out, and sometimes you have to choose which dream to make a reality. Not everything gets tied up in a neat little bow like in the movies. La La Land is a contradiction in how it fawns over movies and then demands you believe that things don’t always work out despite what the movies tell you, but it’s an enjoyable one to watch. It has all the flair and color of its inspirations, the music is surprisingly catchy, and Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone seep with chemistry (but if you’ve seen Crazy, Stupid Love, you already knew that). A love letter to a dead genre, La La Land fits right in on the shelf with the musicals that came before.

88. Harvey

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“Who is Harvey?” I hear you ask. Well, to quote Elwood P. Dowd, “He’s a Pooka!” Pooka’s, according to Celtic folklore, are mischievous spirits who can shapeshift into different kinds of animals and assist the humans they come in contact with. Harvey happens to be a six-foot, three-and-a-half inches tall white rabbit, only visible to Elwood.

Elwood’s a simple and peaceful man. He has the demeanor of a monk, and his best friend is an invisible rabbit whom he tries to introduce to everyone he meets. His sister, Veta, and niece, Myrtle Mae, live with him at his estate, and tries throwing a party at their house. However, the guests get weirded out and leave when Elwood has a seemingly-one-sided conversation with Harvey in the corner. Veta is understandably upset with her brother, and decides to have him committed to a sanatorium, but at the sanatorium, when Veta is explaining Elwood’s “problems”, she accidentally lets it slip that she sometimes sees Harvey. The doctor who listens to her story decides that she’s the one who should be institutionalized, so he lets Elwood go free. The head of the sanatorium, Dr. Chumley, realizes the mistake and everyone goes searching for Elwood. Dr. Chumley finds him at Charlie’s, Elwood’s favorite watering hole. There, Elwood, Dr. Chumley and Harvey converse for several hours. When the others at the sanatorium realize how long Dr. Chumley’s been gone, they go to Charlie’s. However, Dr. Chumley is nowhere to be found, but Elwood is there. They bring him back to the sanatorium, believing he has in some way harmed Dr. Chumley, whom Elwood claims is off with Harvey. Dr. Chumley soon returns and privately admits to Elwood that he now fully believes Harvey is real. However, the others decide to still commit Elwood, and plan to inject him with a formula that will make him “stop seeing the rabbit”. Realizing the cab driver that brought them all back from Charlie’s is still waiting to be paid, Veta goes outside with her bag, looking for her coin purse. She is unable to find it, unsure of where she could have left it, and insists that the cab driver wait until Elwood has been injected, then he can come out and pay. The cabbie makes some comments about the injection – how it turns interesting people into boring ones – and Veta decides to not go through with the injection, and chooses to believe Harvey is real too.

In a long list of movies that celebrate quirky individualism, Harvey is near the top. It’s so sweet and, outside of the final conversation with the cab driver, it isn’t in your face with the message. James Stewart plays Elwood so earnestly, it has to be one of his most endearing performances – more bright-eyed than Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and more patient that Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation. Veta’s actress, Josephine Hull, won an Oscar for her performance, which Stewart helped push for by saying she had the hardest role in the film because she had to “not believe in Harvey and believe in Harvey at the same time.” Hull had a short film career, with only six credits to her name, but she did so much with so little. She’s also one of the aunts in Arsenic and Old Lace, so check that out too.

One of the smartest decisions for the filmmakers was to treat Harvey as if he is there and visible. There’s instances where the camera “follows” Harvey as he supposedly moves, and in general, the film is full of wider shots to ensure that Harvey is in the frame when he walks around with James Stewart. The camera treating Harvey as actually there helps the audience to do the same, and while the film never directly shows he’s real, it does enough to make sure that we believe he is. Harvey is great fun and a whimsical movie to spend an evening with.

Bonus Review: A Matter of Life and Death

Peter Carter is a British pilot in the Royal Air Force. His plane gets shot down and as he’s hurtling toward the ground, he realizes he doesn’t have a working parachute. He reaches out to make contact and gets ahold of US Air Force radio operator, June, and they converse for a time before Peter decides to go ahead and eject. However, in the thick English fog, his escort to Heaven is unable to find him, and so he survives. Peter meets June as she is biking her way back home after her shift, and they fall in love. Peter’s escort to Heaven, Conductor 71, finds Peter and tries to convince him to come to Heaven, but Peter wants to appeal his case. Conductor 71 goes to talk to his superiors, giving Peter and June more time together, and returns to tell Peter he has three days to prepare for his appeal. June is convinced that Peter is having visions and takes him to Doctor Reeves, who believes the visions are the result of a brain injury. Reeves then dies in a motorcycle crash, but it makes him eligible to represent Peter in his appeal. At trial, Reeves makes the argument that Peter, through no fault of his own, has been given more time on Earth and during that time has fallen in love and now has a obligation to stay on Earth. The Council question Peter’s and June’s love for one another, and so Reeves has June take the stand and tells her the only way to save Peter’s life is to take his place. She does so without hesitation. The Council then concedes and allows Peter more time on Earth.

This movie was made in order to help repair British-American relations after World War II. The British viewed the Americans getting involved in World War II as too little too late, and the American way of brashness didn’t sit well with the countrymen who had spent the last few years being bombed at and having to ration their food. This film acted as salve by letting the British man win the day and getting the American girl instead of the other way around. It lifts the British up without putting the Americans down by letting June’s willing sacrifice be the climax of the movie. In fact, the only negative portrayal of Americans in the film is the prosecutor for the appeal, named Abraham Farlan, who was supposedly the first man shot by the British during the Revolutionary War, so he has a little reason to not take kindly to Limeys.

91. Shaft

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Blaxploitation – (n.) a term for a genre of movies, made particularly in the 1970s, that largely featured Black actors and were aimed at Black audiences. Examples include: Hit Man, Super Fly, Cleopatra Jones, The Mack, Willie Dynamite, Foxy Brown, and of course, Shaft.

Growing up a suburban, nearly-translucent white boy in Oklahoma, the closest I came to experiencing the Blaxploitation genre was Madea Goes to Camp. I knew some things through references in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, but I just assumed these were movies that weren’t meant for me. Depending on who you talk to, Shaft might be more for me than for Black people (written by white people who intended the film version to be white, John Shaft is considered very honky-adjacent), and sure enough, it was love at first sight. But who can blame me? They say this cat, Shaft, is a bad mother (shut your mouth!).

John Shaft is a private detective living in New York City, specifically Greenwich Village. You know, where folk music was discovered (I wonder if Shaft is a fan of Simon & Garfunkel)? He starts the movie off by fighting some mobsters, just to show us that he won’t cop out when there’s danger all about. He learns that Bumpy Jonas, a mob boss in Harlem, wants to hire him to find his daughter whom he believes has been abducted on her way to college. Bumpy tells Shaft to find a man named Ben Buford, but when he finds Ben, the two men are shot at by an unknown shooter. They soon discover that they are caught in the middle of a power struggle between two mobs, Bumpy’s and the Italians. Eventually, Shaft learns that Bumpy’s daughter is being held at a hotel. He and Ben and some of Ben’s men infiltrate the hotel under the guise of employees, determined to return Bumpy’s daughter to her home.

I mean, I’m not trying to belittle the story here, but that’s the plot to every film noir ever. Literally, the only changes are…cosmetic. And that’s where I think a lot of criticism for Shaft comes from. It doesn’t truly get to the heart of the Black experience, it simply puts blackface on a white movie. Now, while I understand that take, I don’t fully agree with it. I think a lot of credit should go to Richard Roundtree for what he brings to the table as John Shaft. The way he talks, the way he moves – none of it is like how Humphrey Bogart would do it. Once Richard Roundtree was cast in Shaft, the whole dynamic of the film changed. The man literally invented “swag”. Casting Roundtree was the absolute stroke of genius that Gordon Parks made as director of the film.

Gordon Parks was a very talented man. He only made five feature films, but he was also a renowned author, poet, composer and photographer, and he had a great influence on many who came after him, particularly Spike Lee and John Singleton. He’s even the namesake of a Sesame Street character. With Parks at the helm, making the decisions, Shaft became much more than just a film noir marketed to a Black audience; it became a pioneer. Also, that score is excellent. Shaft is the blueprint for every Blaxploitation film that came after it. And Shaft is a complicated man. Can you dig it?

Bonus Review: Buck and the Preacher

What a perfect film to pair Shaft with. Buck and the Preacher is all at once a Western classic, a blaxploitation film, and one of the few media portrayals of “Exodusters”, post-Civil War African American settlers who went through hostile Native land and around white plantation owners to make a new home in Kansas Territory (something Gordon Parks would know about considering he was descended from them – in fact, just for another recommendation, Gordon Parks’ directorial effort before Shaft was called The Learning Tree, and it’s about the descendants of Exodusters in the 1920s). This is Sidney Poitier’s directorial debut, and he also pulls double duty as our hero, Buck – a cowboy who acts as Moses to these Exodusters. Along the way, he runs into Reverend Willis Oaks Rutherford (a wily and devilish Harry Belafonte), whom he enlists to help him ward off a group of white raiders.

Buck and the Preacher took the same philosophy and bare bones of Shaft and transferred them over to an even more predominately-white genre. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, the film wasn’t the success it should have been when it was released. But that’s why I’ll always recommend it whenever I can. It’s an exciting thrill ride that proved Sidney Poitier was as much a force of nature behind the camera as he was in front of it, and that alone is reason enough to keep it in the eyes of the public. Fortunately for us, it’s also entertaining as all get-out.

94. Mississippi Burning

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from movies and history books, it’s that you shouldn’t be Black and in Mississippi during the Civil Rights movement. It never works out well. Mississippi Burning is a film in a long list of films that deal with this subject, and inspired by true, terrible events. Here’s the background:

James Chaney was from a town called Meridian, Mississippi. Two men from New York City, Andrew Goodman and Michael Schwerner, met together in Philadelphia, Mississippi to work with Freedom Summer – a volunteer campaign that attempted to get Black people registered to vote in rural Mississippi. Chaney, himself, was Black, and Goodman and Schwerner were Jewish. They were pulled over for speeding, and were promptly sent to the local jail and held there for several hours. When they were released, they left town but were followed by local law enforcement, and were once again pulled over before leaving the county. This time they were abducted, sent to an undisclosed location, and killed. After a lengthy investigation from the FBI, it was discovered that members of the KKK, the Neshoba County Sheriff’s Office, and the Philadelphia Police Department were involved in the murders.

The movie follows the same basic premise, but focuses on the FBI’s investigation and sets the story in a fictional county. We’re introduced to Agent Anderson (Gene Hackman) and Agent Ward (Willem Dafoe) as they enter Mississippi, and from very early on, we see the potential clash of method between the two. Ward is interested in doing things by the book, while Anderson prefers whatever gets the job done. Their investigation proves difficult when they get no assistance from the local authorities and citizens, some of which are downright antagonistic towards them. Eventually, both agents are frustrated by their lack of success, and Ward officially lets Anderson do things “his way”. Through threats of violence and trickery, Anderson is able to piece together evidence for their case, and also decides to try the murderers for civil rights violations because it means they will be tried at a federal level instead of the state, which is where murder trials were handled at the time. Watch the movie if you want to see how that goes.

Mississippi Burning isn’t without controversy. First, for a movie about racial tension in the South, the movie is almost completely white. The fictional stand-in for Chaney appears only briefly, and beyond that, it’s nothing but waves of vanilla. Not having a Black character that is central to the story is a fair criticism and leads into dangerous “white savior” territory, and I think it would have helped if the movie had someone for the audience to identify with. However, one thing the casting decision does is reinforce the townspeople’s mentality that Black people are “outsiders”. Another criticism is the framing of the story. Making the FBI the good guys didn’t sit well with a lot of the Black community who lived through the Civil Rights Movement, considering the FBI’s penchant for wiretapping those involved. Also fair. The last criticism was from members of the families of the men killed in real life, who argued that the murders were being exploited for the sake of moviemaking. Likely true, however, that’s just a byproduct of using film to tell history, isn’t it?

Despite these criticisms, I still think Mississippi Burning is worth a watch. The performances are great, and there’s a particular scene where Agent Anderson gets to have a one-on-one chat with one of the possible murderers in a barber shop that will make you clench your butt cheeks. Also, Frances McDormand is in this as the wife of a racist deputy sheriff. She’s great in everything.

Bonus Review: In the Heat of the Night

This is the movie to watch if those criticisms for Mississippi Burning were a deterrent or if you just want to compare how the two movies handle a similar topic. Firstly, it’s not based on any actual murders to my knowledge. Secondly, not only is a Black character front and center to the story, (they call me) Mr. Tibbs is played by THE Sidney Poitier.

Mr. Virgil Tibbs is arrested as he’s traveling through a Mississippi town, suspected of murdering a white man in town. Mr. Tibbs is able to prove that he is a homicide detective from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and is released. On the phone with his chief, it’s decided that Tibbs will stay in town to help with the investigation. Police Chief Bill Gillespie reluctantly accepts the help despite his own prejudices. Gillespie is all too quick to arrest anyone who might be a suspect, and it’s up to Tibbs to prove their innocence. Eventually, Tibbs figures out who the actual murderer is, almost by accident, and is able to get a confession. As Mr. Tibbs boards a train to depart, he and Gillespie part ways with a mutual respect for one another.

A few firsts for this movie: 1. This is the first film that was properly lighted for darker skin complexions. Before In the Heat of the Night, film lighting would always result in a glare on Black characters. 2. It’s the first film that allowed for a Black character to slap a White character.

This movie has so much going for it. The story is great. Tibbs’ efforts despite the racist town and in the face of said racism is exciting, and his Golden Rule approach to the citizens is commendable. The acting is great, particularly Poitier and Rod Steiger, who plays Gillespie. The score from Quincy Jones is amazing. It’s got so much working for it, and it’s honestly a film that everyone should see at least once. Honestly, the more I type out my review, the more I’m convinced that this one and Mississippi Burning should switch places. In the Heat of the Night should actually be #94 on my Top 100. I’m too lazy to change it, but for those of you have read the full review (or better yet, have watched both movies), you know who the real #94 is.

96. The Prince of Egypt

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

From 1937 to 2001, Disney had a stranglehold on animated films. There were small outliers during Mickey Mouse’s reign, namely the rise of Studio Ghibli and a string of very successful Don Bluth films with Amblin, but it wasn’t until DreamWorks came out with Shrek when we started to see the sands shifting. Shrek exploded at the box office and into the zeitgeist, and it’s no secret that Disney has never quite regained that spark that set them apart. DreamWorks, on the other hand, has maintained their status with successful franchises such as Madagascar, Trolls, How to Train Your Dragon and Kung Fu Panda (thanks to your aunt’s continued use of Minion memes on Facebook despite their drastic drop in popularity, Illumination is up there with them now, too. Side note: Can you believe they’re only on Despicable Me 4? I thought they were on the 10th one or something).

However, before Shrek, DreamWorks was struggling to find it’s voice. And by that, I mean that there was little consistency between projects and therefore no trademark for the studio, not that the movies weren’t good. In fact, partially because of that inconsistency, some of their very best films came out before Shrek. The Prince of Egypt, The Road to El Dorado and Chicken Run is a nearly-perfect three-film run, and if you want my honest opinion, The Prince of Egypt is not only the best DreamWorks animated film, it is also one of the Top 5 animated films of all time. It takes all of the youthful energy of a fledgling studio, along with the production sense of the three masters of their respective fields that make up the “SKG” below the DreamWorks logo, and swings for the fences. The result is an animated home run.

Apparently, the groundwork for The Prince of Egypt was laid way back when Jeffrey Katzenberg (Special Agent “K”) was still at The Walt Disney Company. He argued for an animated adaptation of the Charlton Heston classic, The Ten Commandments, but was repeatedly shut down by those above him because of Disney’s neutral stance towards religion. It was through the encouragement of Steven Spielberg (Agent “S”), at the founding meeting of DreamWorks, that set the film in motion. Agent “G” is David Geffen, by the way – as in Geffen Records. Anyway, more about the movie.

The Prince of Egypt is a blend of traditional hand-drawn animation and newer computer-generated animation, and uses both to great effect. The backgrounds and the characters are richly designed with significant attention to detail, and the spectacles of plagues and miracles are vibrant and fluid. My preference is hand-drawn animation by a wide margin, but there’s something to be said about what the movie was able to put to screen through a computer – the pillar of fire and parting of the Red Sea are particularly astounding. But that’s only scratching the surface.

Perhaps I should back up a bit. Show of hands, who does not know what The Prince of Egypt is about? And don’t just say “it’s about a prince in Egypt”. That’s obnoxious. Okay, well, for those of you who raised their hands, The Prince of Egypt is not totally an animated remake of The Ten Commandments. It’s a telling of the story of Exodus, with a little Charlton Heston thrown in. Fearing that his Hebrew slaves will be too numerous to keep in line, Pharaoh commands the killing of newborn Hebrew children. A woman named Yocheved isn’t letting them get her newborn son, so she sneaks to the river and puts the boy in a basket, sending it downriver and praying to God that nothing bad happens to him. Moses floats to where the river meets Pharaoh’s wife (daughter in the original text, but why introduce a character if you don’t have to?). Moses is adopted into Pharaoh’s family and raised as if he was of Pharaoh’s blood. This makes him the sort-of brother to Pharaoh’s biological son, Ramses. They grow up together, form an (almost) unbreakable bond, and chase each other through the streets of Egypt in chariots (thankfully, this is the most that gets pulled from The Ten Commandments). When Moses discovers his Hebrew heritage, he runs away (well, he takes the time to kill another man, first), becomes a shepherd, marries a pretty foreign lady with a name I’m not even going to attempt to spell, and lives a nice, quiet life away from high society. That is, until he starts hearing voices. God speaks to him through a burning bush, and tells him to return to Egypt and demand that the Egyptians (who have relied on slave labor for all their little wonders of the world projects, remember) let the Hebrew people go. Pharaoh says “no” at least seven times, which he eventually regrets, and then lets them go. Well, he changes his mind immediately and chases after the departing Hebrews with his entire army, but thanks to help from God, they get away by crossing a large body of water without a boat. Oh, and then Moses comes down from a mountain with ten commandments. The end.

The Prince of Egypt is relatively faithful to the Biblical account, but that’s only part of what makes it great. So much love and care went into this movie, and it’s clear in every second of film. Like John Hammond in Jurassic Park, they spared no expense. The film has an all-star cast, with the voice talents of Val Kilmer, Ralph Fiennes, Sandra Bullock, Jeff Goldblum, Michelle Pfeiffer, Patrick Stewart, Helen Mirren, Danny Glover, Steve Martin and Martin Short. Oh, and Ofra Haza, but I’ll get to her in a second. Val Kilmer, who voices Moses, also voices God in the burning bush scene in an attempt to move away from the big, booming voice of God from other films and treat it as more like “the voice you would hear in your head”, which I appreciate. Now, the absolute best part about this movie is the soundtrack. Every single song is fantastic, written and executed by Stephen Schwartz, whose works include Godspell, Wicked, Enchanted, and Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame. A stellar tracklist all the way down, but the most memorable of them all is the opening number, “Deliver Us”. It’s grandiose and yearning melody sets the mood for the film that you’ve just started with a powerful vocal from Ofra Haza. Not only was this woman a fantastic singer, but she sang “Deliver Us’ for 17 different dubs of the movie. I can barely get the words to “La Bamba” down. I have no idea how I could ever learn how to sing in 15 other languages. It’s astounding and a true testament to her talent.

Anyway, you get the idea. Don’t be put off by the fact that this is an animated movie and you’re a grown up who watches grown up movies. The themes in The Prince of Egypt and the weight they carry are a declaration that animated movies aren’t just for kids. There’s something in this movie for everyone to enjoy.

Bonus Review: The Road to El Dorado

The Road to El Dorado was released a little over a year after The Prince of Egypt, and like I alluded to before, is a very different movie. The film is meant to have a lighter tone, though it still does deal with adult situations such as sexuality, conquest and human sacrifice. The main inspirations for The Road to El Dorado are old swashbucklers (what is with my affinity for them?) and the series of Bob Hope and Bing Crosby movies. It’s full of action, excitement and comedy, and includes a great collection of songs from Elton John and Tim Rice (though they are admittedly not as good as their work for The Lion King).

Miguel and Tulio are two Spanish swindlers who end up making off with a map of “the New World” – a map that leads to El Dorado, “the city of gold”. A petty thief’s paradise. Miguel and Tulio sneak onto a ship to get to the Americas, and from there, follow the map. I don’t think it’s a major spoiler to say that they find El Dorado. However, they are immediately received with distrust by the locals, and their only way to get on their good side is to pretend to be gods the locals worship. Through circumstance, they convince nearly the entire city of their divinity, but it’s a ruse that’s hard to keep up. The High Priest, Tzekel-Kan quickly goes back to distrusting the two “gods” when they refuse his ritualistic human sacrifices. The chief of El Dorado may also not believe they’re gods, but he plays along when he sees how well the foreigners treat his people. With Tzekel-Kan snooping for proof that they’re lying and Hernan Cortes hot on their trail, Miguel and Tulio have to walk a thin line if they intend to stay alive.

The casting of Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Kline as Miguel and Tulio is inspired, and the majority of the songs are great (honestly, anything Elton John touches turns to gold). The movie is chock full of memorable scenes and lines of dialogue. Sure, it’s not as captivating as The Prince of Egypt, but The Road to El Dorado is fun and exciting, and I think every bit as deserving of people’s attention.

97. The Mask of Zorro

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Speaking of swashbuckling, here’s another one for you. The Mask of Zorro was the 1998 attempt to revive the character for modern audiences. Sure, Zorro is a well-known character and there have been Zorro films and television series since the 1920s, but as far as films go, the gap between 1981’s Zorro, the Gay Blade and The Mask of Zorro is the longest and means they were literally bringing Zorro to a new generation. It was successful enough to warrant a sequel, 2005’s The Legend of Zorro, but that one’s not on my list for a reason.

The Mask of Zorro stars Anthony Hopkins as the now-old Diego de la Vega, the original Zorro, and Antonio Banderas as his masked-vigilante successor, Alejandro Murrieta. Catherine Zeta-Jones in her first starring role plays Diego’s daughter Elena. During a public execution, Diego as Zorro arrives just in time stop the proceedings. The governor of the area, Don Rafael, realizes that Diego is Zorro and captures him in his house during the night. Years later, Alejandro and his brother, Joaquin, are bandits who run the risk of being captured by Captain Harrison Love, Don Rafael’s right-hand-man. Alejandro successfully gets away but Joaquin is forced to shoot himself to avoid being taken in by Captain Love. Diego crosses paths with Alejandro after escaping prison and agrees to train him in swordfighting so that he can take revenge on Captain Love. Meanwhile, Diego intends to take his own revenge on Don Rafael for the murder of his wife and the kidnapping of his daughter, Elena. While training, Alejandro discovers that Diego was once the people’s hero, Zorro, and desires greatly to be his successor. Diego decides that Alejandro, if he is to be helpful to his revenge plans, must also be taught the ways of manners and nobility. Disguised as a nobleman named Don Alejandro del Castillo y Garcia, Alejandro arrives at a party hosted by Don Rafael and proceeds to charm him and Elena, who is convinced she is actually Don Rafael’s daughter. Through his efforts, Alejandro discovers that Don Rafael intends to harvest a gold mine using slave labor until he is able to purchase all of California from Santa Anna. Alejandro, Diego and Elena must all work together to prevent his plan.

I’ll admit, I have a few qualms with this movie. First, the evil plot of Don Rafael’s is kind of silly and doesn’t really warrant a climactic showdown, but hey, we still get one, so I’m not going to complain too much. Second, the movie is a little long. I think the movie’s editing could have been a little tighter, and a few things could have been cut, such as much of the party scene. But despite these issues, the movie remains thrilling throughout and an enjoyable action adventure. The actors all bring their best, as well. Antonio Banderas was just now becoming a well-known name after his work in Philadelphia and Desperado, so The Mask of Zorro was proof that he could carry a major blockbuster. Catherine Zeta-Jones was relatively unknown at the time (she was cast based on her performance in a little-seen miniseries about the Titanic). Once you get past the fact that Anthony Hopkins is the only man in California with a British accent, his performance is excellent as well. Unlike the other two leads, he was already a veteran by this time, so he fits the mentor role perfectly.

Two other highlights to address: First, the screenplay written by Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio. These two share a resume that read like a greatest hits of 90s/00s action and animated hits, including Aladdin, Small Soldiers, The Road to El Dorado, Shrek, Treasure Planet, and the original Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. Their scripts are famous for ambiguous characters and subverting expectations in plot and genre. The Mask of Zorro doesn’t really have these characteristics, but it’s easy to see it as a stepping stone toward future bright spots. The second is the score from James Horner. The Spanish influences on the score ignite it and lift it to soaring heights as it swoons and sweeps through striking action taking place on screen.

The Mask of Zorro runs at just under two and a half hours, so again, it’s a little long, but it’s worth making a movie night out of.

Bonus Review: The Mark of Zorro (1940)

58 years before The Mask of Zorro, there was another great Zorro adventure starring Tyrone Power and Basil Rathbone (whom you saw in The Adventures of Robin Hood, if you watched it like I told you to). 1940’s The Mark of Zorro is actually a remake of a movie of the same name from 1920, starring Douglas Fairbanks, putting Antonio Banderas in good company. Both are based on the 1919 novel, The Curse of Capistrano, the very first Zorro adventure.

The Mark of Zorro acts as an introduction to the character. It follows a young Diego Vega as he returns to California from training in Spain. Upon his arrival, he discovers that his father is no longer in charge of the area, and instead has been usurped Luis Quintero with the help of Rathbone’s Captain Esteban. Everyone’s initial view of Diego is that of a useless, spineless dandy, and he uses that to his advantage. Quintero and his army are searching for the new vigilante, Zorro, and because of his introduction, no one expects Diego of being the masked man – not even his own parents.

Director Rouben Mamoulian had an eclectic filmography, with experience in romance, comedy, film noir and even horror (he directed the most famous version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in 1931), and he uses all these skills together in The Mark of Zorro. It keeps the film exciting from start to finish. If you can tolerate older films, be sure to give this one a watch. Just don’t go down any dark alleys immediately after seeing it.

98. The Adventures of Robin Hood

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

There are so many famous portrayals of English folk hero, Robin Hood. Douglas Fairbanks, Richard Greene, Russell Crowe, Kevin Costner, Cary Elwes (who could actually speak with an English accent, unlike some other Robin Hoods), Frank Sinatra (sorta), and John Cleese (briefly in the best part of Time Bandits) have all donned the name (well, “Robbo” for Ol’ Blue Eyes), but the quintessential Robin Hood will always be Errol Flynn in The Adventures of Robin Hood. Sorry, Robin Hood purists. I know he wasn’t British, but some people just embody a character so well, it’s definitive. Quiet honestly, the 1938 film had a stacked cast. Olivia de Havilland as Maid Marian, Claude Rains (one of the most underappreciated actors ever) as Prince John, Basil Rathbone as Guy of Gisbourne, Eugene Pallette as Friar Tuck, and Ian Hunter, briefly, as Richard the Lionheart.

The Adventures of Robin Hood is pretty well the blueprint for all future adaptations. Robin Hood doesn’t like seeing his fellow Saxons taxed endlessly, and so opposes Prince John, who has seized the throne while his brother, Richard, is gone. Robin openly defies Prince John at a banquet, but escapes before he can be captured. However, he is immediately labeled an outlaw by John. Robin gathers many merry men to his cause and together they rob the rich to feed the poor, and fight for all that is good. During one of these attempts, Robin meets and is immediately head-over-heels for the lovely Maid Marian, whom he woos. This is used against him by Prince John, who entices Robin to compete in an archery contest – an obvious trap which Robin falls for. Later, Robin and his men show hospitality to a group of travelers, who is later revealed to be King Richard and his men. Together, these two virtuous men lead their followers to Nottingham Castle, where a big final showdown takes place. Even if you haven’t seen the movie, you know how the story ends.

It’s honestly a miracle that some of these old Hollywood films become the classics they are, considering some of the early decision-making of the studios. For instance, Robin Hood was originally going to be played by James Cagney. I can’t imagine what other casting ideas they had in mind. Edward G. Robinson as Friar Tuck? Gloria Grahame as Maid Marian? Humphrey Bogart as Guy? Actually, I would watch that movie. Claude Rains can stay. The original script also included archaic, Ye Olde English dialogue, which, while interesting, would have given the movie a more deadpan atmosphere, like a Shakespeare in the Park-type of feeling. Thankfully, this was also scrapped in favor of more modern language. Forsooth!

The swashbuckling adventure is enough to watch this movie. Sword-fighting adventures rarely miss. In fact, my theory is that this is the reason why more recent Robin Hood films don’t do as well. They trade in the fun action and daring dos for gritty origins and low energy, “I’m not like other Robin Hoods” leads. What was the last great action-adventure? Pirates of the Caribbean? Come on, Hollywood. That was over 20 years ago! Kill me. Anyway, if you need more than sword fights to keep you around, give the soundtrack a listen. The Adventures of Robin Hood is up there with The Magnificent Seven and The Mission for its score. It’s a perfect fit for the film.

The swashbuckler (which is just a really fun word to say) is a genre that will come up a few more times on this list, and while I believe they all deserve their spot, none of them would exist if it weren’t for The Adventures of Robin Hood. I’d recommend this film to anyone.

Bonus Review: The Wizard of Oz

I mean, it’s The Wizard of Oz. What can I say? Is there anyone who doesn’t know this movie backwards and forwards? There are so many things from this movie that have become part of pop culture for multiple generations: flying monkeys, “I’m melting! I’m melting!”, ruby slippers, “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!”, following the yellow brick road, “There’s no place like home.”, the man behind the curtain, the Wicked Witch’s feet curling under the house, “Over the Rainbow”, and “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”, just to name a few. It’s a classic and pairs great with The Adventures of Robin Hood.

What The Wizard of Oz does better than most other movies is make the fantastical seem actual. The land of Oz is believable and vibrant, pulsing with life, which makes it such a shame that MGM couldn’t commit to the fantasy and demanded changing the framing of the story in Oz as a dream sequence. The Wizard of Oz wasn’t even considered for a film until it was proven that fairytales were a viable genre with Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, but I guess that goodwill could only stretch so far. I digress. The Wizard of Oz is still the poster child for the Fantasy genre.

The Wizard of Oz isn’t without it’s…umm…issues? First, there’s the fact that the movie shifted hands multiple times. Three directors: George Cukor (who didn’t get very far because of a commitment to direct Gone with the Wind), Victor Fleming (who did get far, but had to replace Cukor on Gone with the Wind because of major troubles with that one), and King Vidor. 1939 had a real coaching carousel going on. Then, there’s the falling asleep in the field of flowers. The snow that falls in that scene was pure asbestos and likely contributed to his death from cancer. And then, of course, probably most egregiously, is the abuse Judy Garland suffered at the hands of the studio just to change her appearance for the sake of the money. None of these detract from what makes The Wizard of Oz great, but I think it’s worth bringing up. I hope I didn’t ruin the movie for anybody.

For the record, it was really difficult to not put The Wizard of Oz in the official Top 100. Sorry, mom.

99. Make Way for Tomorrow

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From acclaimed comedic director, Leo McCarey – whose career includes early Our Gang (Little Rascals) shorts, Marx Brothers movies, Laurel and Hardy and Cary Grant – comes the most depressing film you or anyone will ever see. Seriously, if you plan to watch this movie, bring the tissues. Orson Welles famously quipped that Make Way for Tomorrow could “make a stone cry.” I haven’t put this theory to the test with my pet rock yet, but I know it works on me.

It stars Victor Moore and Beulah Bondi as an elderly couple, an odd choice considering they were 61 and 49 at the time of the film’s release. Victor Moore was known for stage work as well as his appearance in several comedies and early musical spectacles including Swing Time, The Seven-Year Itch, and a favorite Christmas movie of mine, It Happened on 5th Avenue. Beulah Bondi was most famous for being Jimmy Stewart’s mother in at least four movies: Of Human Hearts, Vivacious Lady, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and It’s a Wonderful Life. Oh, and she was in a couple of episodes of The Waltons. Anyway, what I’m trying to get at here is that by 1937, when Make Way for Tomorrow was released, they were both already veterans of the industry, and it shows.

Barkley and Lucy Cooper are losing their house to foreclosure because Barkley is unable to get a job due to his age. They reach out to their children to let them know and a decision is made for them to move in with them until Barkley can secure employment. The only snag is that only one of their children, daughter Nell, has room for both of them and requests three months to talk her husband into the idea. So, for the meantime, the parents are split up between daughter Cora, and son George. However, it doesn’t take long for the parents’ presence to get on their nerves, and soon Cora and George are both looking for ways to get each parent out of their respective houses. Nell also makes very little attempt to sway her husband to taking them both in, and eventually bows out of the plan. Barkley and Lucy begin to feel unwanted when Cora encourages Barkley to get rid of his cold by staying with their other daughter in warmer California and Lucy finds out that George has secretly been looking into retirement homes.

It’s all downhill from there. Make Way for Tomorrow has a purpose, or really, three purposes. 1. To make you cry, 2. To make you want to hug your parents, and 3. To argue for Social Security (which at the time of the movie was only in the early stages of development). It handles all three superbly. What makes the film so captivating and not some proto Soap Opera is mostly the script. The characters feel real, and their dialogue is genuine when it could easily fall into schmaltzy territory. The script writer, Viña Delmar, deserves particular recognition. She only ever wrote two screenplays – this one, and another Leo McCarey film released in the same year, The Awful Truth – and they’re both outstanding. It’s a shame she didn’t write more of them. Besides writing these screenplays, she spent most of her time writing novels and short stories, and being the model for the flapper girls of the 1920s.

Speaking of The Awful Truth – the Cary Grant comedy was the movie and the year (1937, same as Make Way for Tomorrow) Leo McCarey won his first Academy Award for Directing. In his speech, he famously said, “Thanks, but you gave it to me for the wrong picture,” referring to Make Way for Tomorrow, which he considered the greatest film he ever made. Considering his filmography, that’s saying something. This man gave us Duck Soup, Ruggles of Red Gap, Good Sam, Going My Way, The Bells of St. Mary’s, Love Affair and its remake, An Affair to Remember, just to name a few.

Make Way for Tomorrow is absolutely some of the best work Old Hollywood has to offer, and it’s a tragedy it hasn’t gotten the recognition it deserves. Whether you want to watch a tearjerker, an older film, or just something you’ve possibly never heard of, then definitely give this one a try. Just remember what I said before, “Bring the tissues.”

Bonus Review: Tokyo Story

Tokyo Story is a loose remake of Make Way for Tomorrow by the Japanese director, Yasujiro Ozu. It follows a very similar plot of an older couple visiting their children and discovering that their presence is mostly unwelcome, and therefore shares the same themes of the growing gap of understanding between generations. However, both films are very particular to their times. In Make Way for Tomorrow, the parents are losing their house due to economic reasons during the Great Depression, while in Tokyo Story, there’s a greater emphasis on Japanese culture coming out of World War II – urban versus rural; industrialization versus traditionalism.

While I give the edge to Make Way for Tomorrow, there are some things that Tokyo Story does better than its predecessor. For one, I believe the older couple have more agency in Tokyo Story. They are burdens to their children, but they could remove themselves from the situation at any time and aren’t just stuck sitting there, making their children’s lives miserable. For another, and probably most important, is the inclusion of the widowed daughter-in-law, Noriko. Her love and compassion for her in-laws particularly shines against the frustrations of the blood relations. It doubles down on the importance that Japanese culture places on family. Besides that, she’s the absolute best character in the whole thing.

For those of you who already feel yourself sucking in air through your teeth at the thought of watching a foreign film with subtitles, you honestly may want to avoid this one. I struggle with Ozu films myself. They are incredibly slow-moving, Tokyo Story especially, and the camera is always static. I promise you, though: if you give it a chance, it will reward you in the end. Tokyo Story is a beautiful film experience.