Real Genius

In the 1980s, Martha Coolidge’s films were a welcome antidote to the dominance of John Hughes’ output. On the surface, her films appear to be quite similar but whereas Hughes’ films ultimately play it safe and are conservative in nature (i.e. the status quo is preserved), Coolidge’s films champion the outsider in society – for example, Nicolas Cage’s punk rocker hooks up with Deborah Foreman’s Valley girl despite societal pressure in Valley Girl (1983). Real Genius (1985) appears to be just another mindless college comedy like Revenge of the Nerds (1984) but whereas that film had its outsiders ultimately become part of accepted mainstream society, the nerds in Real Genius rebel against it and are proud to be different.

Mitch Taylor (Gabe Jarret) is a brilliant high school student recruited by Professor Jerry Hathaway (William Atherton) to become a student at Pacific Tech and join a special team working on an experimental laser. Hathaway tells Mitch and his parents in person at a science fair. The exchange between them is priceless. His parents obviously have no idea just how smart their son is and only want him to get the best education. At one point, Mitch’s mother asks Hathaway, “I saw your show the other night on radioactive isotopes and I’ve got a question for you. Is that your real hair?” He cheerfully replies, “Is Mitch by any chance adopted?” They are oblivious to the implied insult and Hathaway pulls Mitch aside and tells him, “We’re different than most people. Better.” Hathaway’s elitist attitude is established early on, setting him up as an arrogant snob that must be taught a lesson in humility by our heroes.

Hathaway rooms Mitch with Chris Knight (Val Kilmer), the top brain on campus – at least he used to be until Mitch showed up. We first meet Chris as he’s being taken on a guided tour of a top science laboratory. He has a t-shirt on that reads, “I love toxic waste,” and a set of alien antennae on his head that demonstrate he is the antithesis of Hathaway. He may be super smart but he’s not a stuffed shirt. At one point, his tour guide asks him, “You’re Chris Knight, aren’t you?” Without missing a beat, he replies, “I hope so, I’m wearing his underwear.” Val Kilmer’s deadpan delivery is right on the money and he demonstrates an uncanny knack for comic timing. The film could have so easily set up a rivalry between Chris and Mitch but instead they become friends and team up against a common foe: Kent (Robert Prescott), an arrogant senior student who is also working on the laser.

Chris is super smart but something of a loose cannon, always cracking jokes and never taking anything too seriously, much to Mitch’s consternation because he doesn’t know how to loosen up and have fun. Mitch also has trouble adjusting to campus life and this isn’t helped by Kent who enjoys tormenting Mitch when the senior student isn’t busy sucking up to Hathaway. Coolidge replaces the class warfare in Valley Girl with in-fighting amongst academics in Real Genius. The setting may be different but the tactics are no less mean-spirited as Kent delights in publicly humiliating Mitch. Meanwhile, Hathaway puts pressure on Chris to produce a working laser before the school year ends. Failure to do so will result in Hathaway making sure that Chris doesn’t graduate or work in his field of expertise. Unbeknownst to the ace student, his professor is getting pressured by a flunky and his superior from the CIA who want to use the laser for their own covert actions (assassinations from outer space?).

Every so often, Mitch catches a glimpse of a mysterious long-haired man who goes into his closet at random times during the day. His name is Lazlo (Jon Gries) and he lives deep in the bowels of the school. He used to be the smartest student on campus back in the 1970s but cracked under the pressure and now spends all of his time generating entries for the Frito Lay sweepstakes (enter as often as you like) so as to get as many of the prizes as possible. Jon Gries plays Lazlo as a shy genius, smarter than Chris and Mitch combined. He’s a gentle soul and a far cry from the arrogant blowhard he would go on to play in Napoleon Dynamite (2004)

Over the course of the film, Mitch finds himself attracted to Jordan (Michelle Meyrink), a hyperactive student who never seems to sleep. She sports an adorable Louise Brooks-style bob haircut and a nervous energy that is oddly attractive. I had a huge crush on her when I first saw this film back in the day, quite possibly one of my earliest cinematic crushes. She was the ultimate nerd sex symbol in the ‘80s with her undeniable beauty and brains. Sadly, after a few films she grew disenchanted with the movie making business and retired to Canada to become a Zen Buddhist.

Remember when Val Kilmer was funny? Between this film and Top Secret! (1984), he displays some impressive comedic chops. Kilmer excels at delivering smartass quips and jokes but is also capable of delivering an inspirational speech that convinces Mitch to stick it out at school and get revenge on Kent. There are two scenes where he dispenses with the jokes and has a relatively serious conversation with Mitch about life. They are refreshingly heartfelt and elevate Real Genius above the usual ‘80s teen comedy.

Gabe Jarret is perfectly cast as the helplessly square Mitch with his dorky haircut and his J.C. Penny wardrobe. We aren’t meant to laugh at him and Coolidge shows that he’s a good kid thrust into a new and strange environment. He’s smart but lacks the emotional maturity which he will acquire over the course of the film. Jarret does a nice job of conveying his character’s arc. He doesn’t totally transform into Chris but instead absorbs some of his traits while remaining true to himself.

In the ‘80s, William Atherton seemed to be the go-to guy for playing douchebag authority figures, with memorable turns as the unscrupulous journalist in Die Hard (1988), the “dickless” EPA guy in Ghostbusters (1984), and, of course, his turn in Real Genius. Atherton’s job, and man, does it he do it oh so well, is to provide a source of conflict for our protagonists. He portrays Hathaway as the ultimate arrogant prick and we can’t wait to see him get his well-deserved comeuppance at the hands of Chris and Mitch.

Real Genius does plug in the usual tropes of ‘80s teen comedies with the now dated soundtrack of New Wave songs, most of them forgotten except for “Everybody Wants to the Rule the World” by Tears for Fears, which plays over the blissfully carefree ending of the film. There is the wacky comedic set pieces involving pranks. There’s also the T&A factor when Chris takes Mitch to an indoor pool party populated by sexy beauticians. Not to mention, the dorm that Chris and his classmates live in which vaguely resembles the chaotic frat house in Animal House (1978), only inhabited by really smart people.

However, it is how the film presents these generic elements that sets it apart from the typical ‘80s teen comedy. For example, the pranks are quite inventive, like when Chris and Mitch manage to place Kent’s car in his dorm room. There are several and they all lead up to the mack daddy of them all which occurs at the climax of the film. While there is the requisite T&A factor in Real Genius, the PG rating assures that we don’t see much, just some girls in bikinis. Instead, we get the understated romance that develops between Mitch and Jordan, which is rather sweet in its own unassuming way. The dorm is certainly not the debauched chaos of Delta House, but it clearly is a place of fun, led by Chris and his various antics.

Real Genius received mixed to positive reviews when it was released. In her review for The New York Times, Janet Maslin felt that the film was at its best when it took its characters seriously, “though it does so only intermittently." Newsweek magazine’s David Ansen wrote, "When it's good, the dormitory high jinks feel like the genuine release of teen-age tensions and cruelty. Too bad the story isn't as smart as the kids in it." The Washington Post’s Rita Kempley felt that, "Many of the scenes, already badly written, fail to fulfill their screwball potential ... But despite its enthusiastic young cast and its many good intentions, it doesn't quite succeed. I guess there's a leak in the think tank.” However, Roger Ebert awarded the film three-and-a-half stars out of four, saying that it "contains many pleasures, but one of the best is its conviction that the American campus contains life as we know it.” In his review for the Globe and Mail, Salem Alaton felt that Coolidge “turned in the summer's best, and she didn't cheat to do it. There's heart in the kookiness. Real Genius has real people, real comedy and real fun.” Time magazine's Richard Schickel praised the film for being "a smart, no-nonsense movie that may actually teach its prime audience a valuable lesson: the best retort to an intolerable situation is not necessarily a food fight. Better results, and more fun, come from rubbing a few brains briskly together."

Real Genius argues that nerds can have fun too but there needs to be a balance. You can love solving problems but it can’t be all science and no philosophy as Chris tells Mitch. People like Kent and Hathaway have no sense of humor and are self-obsessed egotists. They are ambitious to a fault, not caring who they step on the way, while Chris and Mitch are aware of the consequences of their actions. There is sweetness to this film that is endearing and rather strange considering that Neal Israel and Pat Proft wrote the screenplay (authors of such paeans to sweetness, like Police Academy and Bachelor Party), but Coolidge is firmly in charge and wisely doesn’t let Real Genius get too sappy. She also doesn’t let the funny stuff devolve into mindless frat humor, instead maintaining a proper mix that doesn’t insult our intelligence. The end result is a film that the characters in the film might enjoy, if they weren’t already in it. Achieving just the right alchemy may explain why the film continues to enjoy a modest cult following and is one of the few teen comedies from the ‘80s that stands the test of time.

The "Pacific Tech" in the film is actually a thinly-disguised version of CalTech in real life. Here is a page examining many of the references to CalTech in the film. Info on a real-life laser gun. Last, but certainly not least is Edward Copeland's fantastic look back at the film over at Edward Copeland on Film. His post inspired my own.

DVD of the Week: The Ice Storm: Criterion Collection

Director Ang Lee has had a fascinatingly diverse career. He’s tried his hand at the literary adaptation with Sense and Sensibility (1995), the Civil War epic with Ride with the Devil (1999), a period martial arts tale with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), and a comic book adaptation with the much-maligned Hulk (2003). He has successfully dabbled in several genres and with The Ice Storm (1997), he adapted Rick Moody’s 1994 novel of the same name, a drama set in 1973 during the waning years of the sexual revolution.

The film takes place during the Thanksgiving holiday in New Canaan, Connecticut and explores the relationship between two families: the Carvers and the Hoods. Paul Hood (Tobey Maguire) is returning home from school and hopes to lose his virginity to an attractive classmate named Libbets Casey (Katie Holmes). His sister Wendy (Christina Ricci) is obsessed with the Watergate hearings and delights in watching President Nixon going down in flames. Their parents, Ben (Kevin Kline) and Elena (Joan Allen), are a bland WASPy couple whose marriage is stuck in a rut. Ben is having an affair with Janey Carver (Sigourney Weaver) who is in a loveless marriage with Jim (Jamey Sheridan). They have two sons, Mikey (Elijah Wood) and Sandy (Adam Hann-Byrd), oddly off-kilter boys who are becoming increasingly sexually aware with Wendy’s help.

All of their conflicts and problems boil to the surface at a “key party” that the Carvers and Hoods attend during an ice storm. There’s a faint whiff of desperation as all of these conservative WASPs try to be hip swingers. Meanwhile, their children are up to their own subversive activities with unfortunate, tragic consequences.

Needless to say, both of these families are very dysfunctional with the adults being sexually repressed and the kids exploring their sexuality. Lee underlines the dysfunction of these families by visually referencing panels from issue 141 of the Fantastic Four comic book occasionally throughout the film. Paul is reading it on a train during the film’s climactic ice storm. The FF are a family of superheroes and in this particular issue they are plagued by internal strife. There is some delicious foreshadowing as Tobey Maguire would go on to play Spider-Man and Lee would adapt the Incredible Hulk.

The Ice Storm feels like an Ingmar Bergman or John Cassavetes film from the 1970s with a dash of Atom Egoyan (the look of either Exotica or The Sweet Hereafter). It also has a textured, painterly quality thanks to the exquisite cinematography of Frederick Elmes who also shot some of David Lynch’s best films (Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, and Wild at Heart). He really captures the tacky, kitschy look of the ‘70s and is helped considerably by the attention to period detail (awful sweater vests over turtleneck sweaters) and the top notch production design (capturing the look of the houses from that era).

The Ice Storm takes a fascinating look at a specific time and place through the eyes of an outsider – the Taiwanese-born Lee who offers a fresh perspective on American culture. His film can be seen as a melancholic lament for the end of an era and the loss of innocence that began with the Kennedy assassination. Kudos to the Criterion Collection for giving this unfairly neglected film their deluxe treatment.

Special Features:

The first disc features an audio commentary by director Ang Lee and producer/screenwriter James Schamus. They banter back and forth like the long-time friends and collaborators that they are. At one point, Schamus jokingly refers to a “pre-Scientology” Katie Holmes and recounts some of the challenges of shooting on location including greedy town locals who held up filming. Lee makes some astute observations about the characters and points out his favorite shots and lines of dialogue in the film. They talk about Maguire’s voiceover narration and how it provides structure to the film and how it comments on the action. This is an entertaining and informative commentary.

There is also a theatrical trailer.

The second disc starts off with “Weathering the Storm,” a 36-minute retrospective featurette with new interviews with a lot of the key cast members who reflect on making the film and how it affected their careers. Joan Allen describes the script as minimalist in nature and was intrigued by it. Kevin Kline’s agent described it as the bleakest one he’d ever read and this piqued the actor’s curiosity who read and found it quite funny. Sigourney Weaver talks about the social restrictions her character and women in general faced in the ‘70s. Everyone talks about what it was like to work with Lee. This is an excellent look at how the film came together by some of the actors who were in it.

“Rick Moody Interview” features the author of the source novel talking about his feelings towards the film adaptation. These characters were an intimate part of him and the film version was a very different take on them. He was allowed to watch the process of the adaptation by the filmmakers.

“Lee and Schamus at MOMI.” The two talk about their filmmaking career together at the Museum of the Moving Image in November 2007. They talk about how various films came together and reflect on them in an eloquent and intelligent way.

“The Look of The Ice Storm” features interviews with cinematographer Frederick Elmes, production designer Mark Friedberg, and costume designer Carol Oditz. They talk about how they helped realize Lee’s vision.

Also included are four deleted scenes with optional commentary by Schamus. We see Ben at work in a funny bit with Kline and Henry Czerny. He talks about why these scenes were cut.

Nixon

Oliver Stone’s film, Nixon (1995) portrays the American political process as an unpredictable system that politicians have no hope of ever fully controlling. The best they can do is keep it in check most of the time. This theory can be seen in its embryonic stage in JFK (1991) with President John F. Kennedy being assassinated by shadowy forces within the political system, but it was not until Nixon that Stone was able to fully articulate it. As film critic Gavin Smith observed, “Nixon is a historical drama about the constructing and recording of history, assembled as we watch.” Stone has created a unique version of the historical biopic that combines fact and speculation with a cinematic style that blends various film stocks in a seamlessly layered, complex narrative. This fractured, overtly stylized approach draws attention to the fact that we are watching a film. As Stone has said in an interview, “I don’t pretend that it is reality.” This, in turn, allows him to deliver his message with absolute clarity.

Like Citizen Kane (1941) before it, Nixon traces the dramatic rise and fall of a historical figure who tried so hard to be loved by all but ended up being infamous and misunderstood. While Orson Welles’ film was a thinly-veiled attack on newspaper tycoon, William Randolph Hearst, Stone paints an almost sympathetic portrayal of Richard Nixon (Anthony Hopkins). Stone may not like Nixon personally, but he does try to explore what motivated the man’s actions and really get inside his head. The director even throws in a stylistic nod to Kane as part of the opening credits play over a shot of a dark and stormy night at the White House. The camera moves through the fence in a way that evokes the opening of Welles’ film with Kane’s imposing estate. And like Welles’ film, Nixon employs a flashback device as Nixon listens to the Watergate tapes and reflects on his life, from his tough childhood in Whittier, California, to his beleaguered political career that culminates with his tumultuous stint in the White House.

The first real indication of Stone’s thesis of the political system as a wild, untamable animal comes when Nixon talks to FBI director J. Edgar Hoover (Bob Hoskins) at a horse race about running for President. There are all kinds of shots of horses snorting wildly – the first hint, visually, of what Stone is trying to get at. Hoover makes it known that he will support Nixon if he, in turn, supports him, and is willing to supply him with dirt on Robert Kennedy to help the cause. Hoover makes an intriguing comment when he tells Nixon, “I look at it from the point of view that the system can only take so much abuse. It adjusts itself eventually ... But there are times there are savage outbursts.” He cites Martin Luther King’s promiscuity and continues, “Sometimes the system comes very close to cracking.” The implication in this scene is that Hoover is a significant cog in the United States political machine and one that Nixon must respect and work with.

The second significant example where Stone gives support to his thesis is when Nixon meets with Richard Helms (Sam Waterston), director of the CIA. Like Hoover, Helms is a powerful man within the system because he knows and protects so many of its dirty little secrets. They get to talking about Cuba and Nixon’s involvement to assassinate Fidel Castro, which Helms has evidence of via memos. He refers to it as “not an operation so much as an organic phenomenon. It grew. It changed shape. It developed appetites.” Helms is fiercely protective of his position and of the CIA, resisting Nixon’s request for incriminating documents. Where Hoover is portrayed as gruff and obvious, Helms is elusive and distant, played with icy intensity by Sam Waterston.

The third and most important example occurs when Nixon spontaneously meets with war protesters on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. This is where Stone lays it all out and the film features a fascinating exchange between the President and a female protester (Joanna Going):

Protester: You can’t stop it can you? Even if you wanted to. ‘Cause it’s not

you, it’s the system. The system won’t let you stop it.

Nixon: There’s more at stake here then what you want or what I want.

Protester: Then what’s the point? What’s the point of being President?

You’re powerless!

Nixon: No. No, I’m not powerless. ‘Cause I understand the system. I

believe I can control it. Maybe not control it totally but tame it

enough to do some good.

Protester: Sounds like you’re talking about a wild animal.

Nixon: Maybe I am.

Of this scene, Stone has said that Nixon realizes that the system is “more powerful than he is. We can’t get into it that much, but we hint at it so many times – the military-industrial complex, the forces of money.” Stone’s film argues that Nixon really did want to institute change and make a difference in the world, but his own shortcomings, coupled with the complex infrastructure that is the United States political system, ultimately led to his downfall. Stone and the screenwriters conceived of the concept of the political system as “the beast,” which one of the film’s screenwriters Christopher Wilkinson described as “a headless monster that lurches through postwar history,” and served as a metaphor for a system of dark forces that resulted in the assassinations of the Kennedy brothers and Martin Luther King, and the Vietnam War, as well as helping Nixon’s rise to power and his fall from it. In an interview, Stone elaborated further. He saw “the beast” as a “system ... which grinds the individual down ... it’s a system of checks and balances that drives itself off: 1) the power of money and markets; 2) state power, government power; 3) corporate power, which is probably greater than state power; 4) the political process, or election through money, which is therefore in tow to the system; and 5) the media, which mostly protects the status quo and their ownership’s interests.”

Anthony Hopkins’ stunning portrayal of the former President humanizes this historical figure. From the way the film is shot and edited, we are seeing the events of U.S. history through Nixon’s perspective. This approach also helps in creating a sympathetic portrait of the man. Hopkins wisely does not opt for a Rich Little imitation but instead captures the essence and spirit of the man. He shows Nixon’s aggressive side, where he speaks in football metaphors and refers to himself in the third person, and also a vulnerable one in the scenes with his wife, Pat. It’s a wonderfully layered performance that Hopkins hasn’t equaled since because he hasn’t been given material and a director that has challenged him in quite the way that Stone did with Nixon.

Opposite Hopkins is Joan Allen as Pat Nixon. She more than holds her own with the Academy Award-winning thespian, portraying Pat as a long suffering yet incredibly strong-willed wife who has to sit by and watch her husband strive for unattainable goals. There’s a scene where she reacts in private to her husband losing the 1960 Presidential election to John F. Kennedy and she looks visibly upset, wiping away tears while trying to maintain her composure. In the following scene with her husband, Pat tells him about the toll his political career is taking on their family, which comes across as quite touching. Tears well up in Pat’s eyes as she consoles her husband while he looks tired and defeated. It’s a wonderfully intimate moment that humanizes both of them considerably. All of the scenes between Allen and Hopkins crackle with a kind of tangible intensity as we see the toll politics takes on them. This is not one of those token wife roles that is so often seen in these kinds of films. The well-written screenplay and Allen’s performance flesh out Pat Nixon into a three-dimensional character.

As always, Stone’s knack for casting is impeccable. Much like he did with JFK, Stone surrounds his leads with an impressive roster of big names in the supporting roles: James Woods, Ed Harris, Bob Hoskins, David Hyde Pierce, Paul Sorvino, Powers Boothe, J.T. Walsh, and, in a restored scene, Sam Waterston delivers a deliciously chilling performance as Richard Helms. These recognizable faces help one keep track of the historical figures that pop up throughout the film.

Originally, Stone had been developing two projects – the musical Evita (1996) and a film about Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega. When they both failed to get made, he turned his attention to a biopic about Nixon with the president’s death in April 1994 being a key factor in the director’s decision. The project actually originated with Eric Hamburg, a former speechwriter and staff member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, after having dinner with Stone. In 1993, Hamburg mentioned the idea to writer Steve Rivele with the concept being that they would incorporate all of Nixon’s misdeeds, both known and speculative. Hamburg encouraged Rivele to write a screenplay with his partner Christopher Wilkinson. They wrote a treatment in November 1993. In it was the concept of the political system as a beast and this is what convinced Stone to get involved. He immersed himself in research with the help of Hamburg.

Stone commissioned the first draft of the film’s screenplay from Rivele and Wilkinson and it was completed on June 17, 1994, the anniversary of the Watergate break-in. The script was based on research from various sources, including documents, transcripts and hours of footage from the Nixon White House. Early on, Rivele and Wilkinson hated Nixon but the longer they worked on the film, and “the more we knew about him, our contempt was slowly eroded to the point where we more than pitied him, we empathized with him.” Stone structured his film into two acts with the first one about Nixon’s loss of power and the second one about Nixon in power only to lose it again.

Stone pitched the project to Warner Bros. but, according to the director, they saw it “as a bunch of unattractive older white men sitting around in suits, with a lot of dialogue and not enough action.” They also didn’t agree with Stone’s choice to play Nixon – Anthony Hopkins. Instead, they wanted Tom Hanks or Jack Nicholson – two of Stone’s original choices and both of whom had passed on the role. Stone even met with Warren Beatty but the actor wanted to make too many changes to the script. Stone went with Hopkins based on his performances in Remains of the Day (1993) and Shadowlands (1993). The director remembered, “the isolation of Tony is what struck me. The loneliness. I felt that was the quality that always marked Nixon.” Upon meeting Stone for the first time, Hopkins saw the director as “one of the great bad boys of American pop culture, and I might be a fool to walk away.” He was convinced that to take on such a challenging role that would require him to “impersonate the soul of Nixon” by the scenes in the film when he talks about his mother and father. “That affected me,” he said. To prepare for the role, Hopkins watched a lot of documentary footage on Nixon. At night, he would go to sleep with footage playing so that it would seep into his subconscious.

Joan Allen auditioned for the role of Pat Nixon over a period of several months. During one of these auditions, she read opposite Beatty when he was briefly interested. After this audition, Beatty told Stone that he had found his Pat Nixon. She learned, through her research, that Pat was a strong person who had a difficult life. Allen based her performance on interviews with former Nixon aides, books about the First Lady and a Barbara Walters interview in the early 1970s. Stone, Hamburg, Hopkins, and Woods flew to Washington, D.C. and interviewed the surviving members of Nixon’s inner circle: lawyer Leonard Garment, Attorney General Elliot Richardson and Robert McNamara, a former Secretary of Defense under the Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson administrations. In addition, Stone hired Alexander Butterfield, a former secretary in the cabinet and special assistant to Nixon and who first revealed the existence of Nixon’s secret tapes of his oval office conversations, John Sears, former deputy White House counsel, and John Dean as consultants. To research their roles, Powers Boothe, David Hyde Pierce and Paul Sorvino met with their real-life counterparts, but J.T. Walsh decided not to contact John Ehrlichman because he threatened to sue the production after reading an early version of the script and was not happy with how he was portrayed.

Stone’s producing partner and financier Arnold Milchan had a deal with the director to make any film he wanted up to a budget of $42.5 million but refused to honor their agreement, saying that he would put up no more than $35 million because he felt Nixon was an uncommercial project. Stone refused to make the film with that budget and a week before shooting was to begin he approached Hungarian financier Andrew Vajna who had a co-financing deal with Disney’s Hollywood Pictures. At the time, Vajna was hoping to get some respectability in Hollywood and possibly an Academy Award and agreed to provide the $43 million budget. In order to cut costs, Stone leased the White House sets from The American President (1995).

Reportedly, there was a lot mischievous jokes exchanged between the actors on the set. Early on, Hopkins was intimidated by the amount of dialogue he had to learn, more of which was being added and changed all the time, and then Sorvino told him that “there was room for improvement” and that he would be willing to help him. According to James Woods, Sorvino told Hopkins that he was “doing the whole thing wrong” and that he was an “expert” who could help Hopkins. Sorvino took Hopkins to lunch and then afterwards the British thespian told Stone that he wanted to quit the production. The director managed to convince him to stay on. Hopkins remembered, “there were moments when I wanted to get out, when I wanted to just do a nice Knot’s Landing or something.” Woods also cracked several good natured jokes with Hopkins. He said, “I’d always tell him how great he was in Psycho. I’d call him Lady Perkins all the time instead of Sir Anthony Hopkins.”

What is perhaps most stunning about Nixon is the style of the film. Employing the editing techniques and innovative camerawork he perfected in JFK and Natural Born Killers (1994), Stone created a unique version of the historical biopic that combines actual documentary footage with fictional material and that blends various film stocks in attempt to shed light on a figure most people knew very little about. This fractured, overtly stylized approach suggests that we are seeing historical events through the prism of Nixon’s perspective. The film is not meant to be the definitive word on the man but rather, as Stone said in an interview, the “basis to start reading, to start investigating on your own.”

Stone had his editors in three different rooms with the scenes from the film revolving from one room to another, “depending on how successful they were.” If one editor wasn’t successful with a scene it went to another. Stone said it was “the most intense post- I’ve ever done, even more intense than JFK” because he was screening the film three times a week, making changes in 48 to 72 hours, rescreening the film and then making another 48 hours of changes.

Seven days before Nixon was to be released in theaters, the Nixon family issued a statement calling parts of the film “reprehensible” and that it was designed to “defame and degrade president and Mrs. Nixon’s memories in the mind of the American public.” The statement also criticized Stone’s depiction of Nixon’s private life and that of his childhood and his part in planning the assassination of Castro. This statement was actually issued by the Richard Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California on behalf of the Nixon family based on a published copy of the script. Stone responded that his “purpose in making the film Nixon, was neither malicious nor defamatory,” and to attempt “a fuller understanding of the life and career of Richard Nixon – the good and the bad, the triumphs and the tragedies, and the legacy he left his nation and the world.” The attacks didn’t stop there. In a letter to Nixon’s daughters, Walt Disney’s daughter, Diane Disney Miller, said that Stone “has committed a grave disservice to your family, to the presidency, and to American history.”

Despite lackluster box office results, Nixon was generally well-received by critics. Roger Ebert praised the film for how it took "on the resonance of classic tragedy. Tragedy requires the fall of a hero, and one of the achievements of Nixon is to show that greatness was within his reach.” The New York Times’ Janet Maslin praised Anthony Hopkins' performance and "his character's embattled outlook and stiff, hunched body language with amazing skill.” However, in his review for the San Francisco Chronicle, Mick LaSalle felt that "the problem here isn't accuracy. It's absurdity. Hopkins' exaggerated portrayal of Nixon is the linchpin of a film that in its conception and presentation consistently veers into camp.” Time magazine’s Richard Corliss also had a problem with Hopkins' portrayal: "Hopkins, though, is a failure. He finds neither the timber of Nixon's plummy baritone, with its wonderfully false attempts at intimacy, nor the stature of a career climber who, with raw hands, scaled the mountain and was still not high or big enough."

Nixon is a powerful historical biopic – arguably the last great film Oliver Stone has made to date. It is also, coincidentally (or maybe not), the last film he and regular collaborator Robert Richardson made together. The legendary cinematographer was as much responsible for defining the distinctive style of Stone’s films as the director himself. Stone’s work has never been the same since they parted company. Nixon was also the last time he had enough juice in Hollywood to command such an impressive cast of actors. Admittedly, Hollywood has changed considerably since this film was made and Stone has had to adapt with the times but hopefully he has another great film like Nixon left in him.

DVD of the Week: Blue Chips

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. In the 1970s, director William Friedkin was at the peak of his powers. The one-two punch of The French Connection (1971) and The Exorcist (1973) made him a force to be reckoned with. And then, he made Sorcerer (1977), a critical and commercial failure. His industry clout disappeared as fast as he had acquired it. Studios did not want to deal with his inflated ego and hard-headed pragmatism. Other than the excellent, To Live and Die in L.A. (1985) Friedkin has made one forgettable film after another through the 1980s and 1990s. On paper, Blue Chips (1994) must have seemed like a good idea. Team up Friedkin with a Ron Shelton (responsible for one of the best sports films ever, Bull Durham) penned screenplay to create a hard-hitting expose on college basketball. So, what happened?

Just to let us know that he hasn’t completely sold out; Friedkin opens the film by having college basketball coach Pete Bell (Nick Nolte) chew out a locker room full of players. He yells at them for a bit before walking out and then comes back in for more yelling. Repeat. It is a scene we’ve seen a million times before but this time it has a jarring effect because Friedkin drops us into the scene without any explanation, leaving it up to the audience to figure out what’s going on.

Bell is under a lot of pressure. Having experienced his first losing season, he’s still feeling the heat from accusations that his team shaved points off a game a few years ago. It continues to dogs him much to his chagrin. The powerful head of the alumni (played with oily, reptilian charm by consummate character actor, J.T. Walsh) dangles a carrot in front of Bell: use the power of the alumni coffers to recruit better players. Bell resists. He’s proud of the fact that he’s never resorted to illegal tactics that have tainted the game.

So, Coach Bell drives across the country trying to recruit players like a travelling salesman, sweet-talking families. But he soon finds that in order to get good players he has to do more than promise substantial courses and a vibrant campus life. Colleges not only have to convince the potential player but his family as well. The bottom line almost always comes down to this: what does the school have to offer them and their son? It’s not just a strong school, but, for some, the promise of a new house, a car, or a job. And so, Bell finally gives in and makes a deal with the film’s devil — Walsh’s slick, head of alumni, decked out in expensive suits and a buxom blond on each arm.

Why? College basketball represents big money through television revenue. A winning team draws bigger crowds and therefore more money. This makes the school’s alumni happy and willing to give more money to the school for certain programs, like the basketball team, thus ensuring future excellence in the sport. It is a cycle that feeds on itself. When one of these parts breaks down, the devastating ripples are felt throughout.

Nick Nolte is well cast as the intense, hard-drinking (what else?), hard-nosed coach who is feeling the pressure. The veteran actor has that natural, world-weariness that makes him perfect for the role and the rugged physicality that makes him believable as a big-time college basketball coach. Nolte not only talks the talk but he also walks the walk as evident in a basketball practice sequence where he actually conveys the impression that he knows what he’s doing. He backs this up with his on-court antics that are right out of games you’ve seen on T.V. Blue Chips also has the NBA pedigree with the likes of retired legends like Larry Bird and then-marquee players like Shaquille O’Neal and “Penny” Hardaway populating the movie.

Friedkin doesn’t seem all that interested in the basketball sequences, shooting them in the standard way that we have seen on T.V. instead of trying something different, like employing his trademark you-are-there cinema verite which would have captured the intensity of a live game, much as Oliver Stone did in Any Given Sunday (1999). Friedkin seems more interested in the off-court mechanics: the wheeling and dealing needed to get raw talent from high schools to their college without a rival school stealing/enticing them away, and Bell wrestling with his conscience. This is when the film is at its strongest and most interesting.

Blue Chips is fine until its conclusion when it suddenly loses its freakin’ mind as a guilt-ridden Bell tries to redeem himself at a post-game press conference. It just doesn’t seem believable — especially when this scene is followed by a staggeringly naïve, it-starts-with-our-kids message that is way too preachy. It betrays what the film has been saying up to this point: that no one seems to play for the love of the game anymore. Everybody wants something – money, a house, a car, or a job. Ultimately, Blue Chips is about an honest man who sells his soul, who gives into overwhelming pressure to get what he wants and who loses his way. Friedkin almost pulls it off and the sudden, pat ending makes one wonder if he originally intended a more downbeat ending only for the timid studio to impose a more positive conclusion. In doing so, they’ve alienated the audience who was with them up until that point.

Special Features:

Nothing. Considering what a good job Friedkin has been doing revisiting his old films and whole-heartedly supporting the DVD medium, one wonders if there was some friction between him and the studio on this film. Maybe they decided not to ask for his participation lest the notoriously vocal filmmaker sound off on any potential conflicts that arose during filming or how he views the film now.

Strange Invaders

The early to mid-1980s saw a resurgence in alien invasion films like The Thing (1982), The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai (1984), and Invaders from Mars (1986) that were either remakes of or homages to science films from the 1950s. Strange Invaders (1984) was part of this wave and fared just about as well with mainstream audiences and critics. That is to say it was largely ignored. Were audiences not sophisticated enough to handle a film that simultaneous paid tribute to and gently parodied films from another era? Were they looking for something more straightforward and sentimental like E.T. (1982) or Starman (1984)? It’s too bad because Strange Invaders is quite a good film in its own, understated and unassuming way.

In 1958, the residents of Centerville, Illinois (a.k.a Smalltown, USA) are invaded and quickly assimilated by aliens from outer space. In a nice touch, it all starts with a couple of young lovers (played by Dey Young and Dan Shor – she was in Rock ‘n’ Roll High School and he was in Tron). Flashforward 25 years later and we meet Charles Bigelow (Paul Le Mat), a professor of entomology at Columbia University. One day, his ex-wife Margaret (Diana Scarwid) drops off their daughter Elizabeth (Lulu Sylbert) to stay with him for awhile because she has to return home to, you guessed it, Centerville, to deal with her mother’s recent death. Charles doesn’t hear from Margaret for several days and is unable to get a hold of her on the phone despite repeated attempts.

So, Charles decides to go to Centerville and find out what happened to her. Right from the get-go, something seems off about the town. It could be the man (Kenneth Tobey) that runs the boarding house that Charles stays at who claims to never have heard of Margaret or her deceased mother even though he’s lived in Centerville his whole life. It could be the fact that when Charles goes wandering around town it looks like the inhabitants never left the ‘50s. It could be the church he enters that just happens to be emitting a strange blue glow from behind the altar. Or, it could be the odd way in which the patrons in a diner he hangs out in, while his car is being fixed, ignore him when he asks about his missing dog.

However, it is his car suddenly bursting into flames that seals the deal and when Charles makes a break for it by stealing another car, he spots someone who does not look human. We only get a fleeting glimpse but when it shoots out a bolt of electricity from its head that zaps the doors and trunk off Charles’ getaway car that pretty much confirms the otherworldly nature of the townsfolk. When several of the disguised aliens arrive in New York City (by Greyhound bus no less) we get the big reveal in a memorable scene where one of them sheds his human disguise to reveal an alien visage in a fantastic display of make-up effects. Along with the visual effects (mainly involving the alien mothership and their ability to manipulate electricity), they are quite effective for what I’m sure was a modestly budgeted film.

Charles returns home to find his place has been tossed. After talking to a fellow professor about his close encounter he is put in touch with a government official by the name of Mrs. Benjamin (Louise Fletcher) who tells him that no one has lived in Centerville since 1958 when it was destroyed by a tornado. This leaves him even more confused but he comes across a photograph of the alien he saw on the cover of a National Inquirer-style tabloid newspaper. He meets with Betty (Nancy Allen), the reporter who wrote the story. Not surprisingly, she doesn’t believe him and claims that she made up the article. However, Betty quickly becomes a believer when she gets a visit from a strange AVON lady who is not what she seems and proceeds to zap her neighbor (who, in a nice touch, is played by none other than Wallace Shawn). Betty and Charles team-up to figure out what’s going on.

Strange Invaders was the second film in a proposed trilogy by filmmaker Michael Laughlin. The first film was called Strange Behavior (1981) and it mixed science fiction, suspense thrillers with mad scientists and serial killers. Laughlin was a self-professed genre fan and found that “there’s a much greater association between the audience and the filmmaker in genre films. They know the formula, so they look to you to tantalize them.” On this film, he re-teamed with his co-writer and associate producer from Strange Behavior, William Condon. The first image Laughlin came up with was that of a Midwest landscape with an “old-fashioned mothership sliding in.” He started writing the first few pages of the screenplay himself and then he and Condon completed it in two months, each writing different parts.

The two men wrote the script without any kind of deal in place but were confident that it was going to be made into a film. To this end, they figured out the budget, scouted locations, cast the actors, and then worked on the production design (all at his and Condon’s expense) while arranging the financing. To help produce the film, Laughlin brought in his friend Walter Coblenz, who had been the assistant director on the Laughlin-produced film Two-Lane Blacktop (1971), and they shopped the project around Hollywood. Strange Behavior had been released by a small distributor and this time around Laughlin wanted his film handled by a major.

Executives at Orion Pictures liked the script for Strange Invaders and were looking for a good film at a modest price with mainstream appeal. Orion provided half of the film’s $5.5 million budget with England’s EMI Films coming up with the rest. As a result, Orion received distribution rights for North America while EMI handled the rest of the world. As part of the financing deal, Orion and EMI demanded several script changes, which Condon and Laughlin found difficult because they had to try and explain their ideas verbally. The companies’ influence reduced the film’s scope. For example, in the original script, the American government was a much bigger threat with a big sequence taking place at an Air Force base. This bothered Laughlin because the changes resulted in a lack of a well-defined middle section that he and Condon had to work on.

Orion and EMI also influenced the casting process and approved every choice Laughlin made. The original script was written with Michael Murphy in mind (he was also in Strange Behavior) but EMI refused, much to Laughlin’s confusion “because there didn’t seem to be a good reason for his rejection. I guess it was a matter of personal taste.” Orion and EMI suggested Mel Gibson or Powers Boothe to play Charles instead but Laughlin’s choice was Paul Le Mat because he hadn’t played that kind of role before and had what Laughlin saw as a “Joel McCrea quality” that he was looking for.

For the role of Betty, Laughlin wanted an actress from New York and not someone from California playing a New Yorker. Condon was a big fan of Brian De Palma’s films and Nancy Allen who had appeared in several of them. Louise Fletcher’s government agent was originally written as a man, a “Bob Balaban bureaucrat,” but during the screenwriting process, Condon and Laughlin decided to change the character to a woman and cast Fletcher who had been in Strange Behavior.

There are several references to science fiction films from the ‘50s with the presence of Kenneth Tobey (star of the original version of The Thing) and June Lockhart (one of the stars of Lost in Space), at one point, someone is watching The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) on television, and the film’s score could easily feel right at home in that decade, complete with the use of the Theremin, a unique musical instrument that emits an eerie sound – the hallmark of several films from that era. Laughlin was drawn to the ‘50s because it gave a “very American texture. There was a tremendous burst of imagination.”

Strange Invaders is an offbeat film to say the least with an off-kilter rhythm that probably didn’t endear it to audiences in the 1980s (or now, judging from its continuing anonymity). The very dry humor pops up in the unlikeliest places but in a good way, if that makes any sense. Charles is hardly the overtly heroic type but is rather a mild-mannered professor bewildered by what he’s witnessed. Paul Le Mat (American Graffiti) plays a rather odd protagonist as he keeps his performance grounded in realism, which are in sharp contrast to the fantastic encounters his character experiences. There is something refreshingly unique about it but detractors found him bland and uninteresting. Nancy Allen, a mainstay of genre films (see Dressed to Kill, Blow Out and RoboCop), plays an ideal foil to Le Mat’s determined professor as a jaded tabloid journalist. Betty is no damsel in distress and helps Charles uncover the alien threat.

Strange Invaders received mixed reviews from what few film critics saw it. In his review for The New York Times, Vincent Canby called it, "a tasteful monster movie with a terrible secret: it eats other movies.” Newsweek magazine’s David Ansen wrote, "Hovering unclassifiably between nostalgia and satire, this amiably hip genre movie confirms Laughlin as a deliberately minor but unique stylist. It's up to the viewer to determine just how faux his naïf style is, but either way you choose to take it, Strange Invaders offers a good deal of laid-back fun.” The Globe and Mail’s Jay Scott wrote, "Strange Invaders is a pastiche, a film-school jumble of aphorisms and winks at the audience that are neither as knowing nor as amusing as they are meant to be."

Strange Invaders gradually builds the mystery, giving us bits and pieces so that we put it together along with Charles and Betty. This includes the reveal that the United States government is in cahoots with the aliens, anticipating The X-Files by several years. Strange Invaders’ commercial failure sadly nixed a third film in Laughlin’s proposed “Strange trilogy.” At the time of Strange Invaders, a third film, a World War II spy thriller with science fiction elements entitled The Adventures of Philip Strange, was planned with Laughlin hoping to cast many of the same actors and crew members from his two previous films. I, for one, would have loved to have seen where the filmmakers were going to take the story next. Strange Invaders does achieve a certain amount of closure and went on to anticipate other ‘50s alien invasion homages/parodies, like Top of the Food Chain (1999) and the more recent Alien Trespass (2009) – both of which fared just about as well commercially as Strange Invaders, which just goes to show that this kind of film only really appeals to a niche market but maybe that’s just as well.

Here's the theatrical trailer;

Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid

In the early 1980s it must’ve seemed like a crazy idea to mix several contemporary actors with clips from classic films into something resembling a coherent story. Even now it seems like a pretty wild idea and one with few antecedents (Kung Pow! Enter the Fist is the only one that comes immediately to mind). But director Carl Reiner and comedian Steve Martin had the chutzpah to give it a try with Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid (1982), a comedy that simultaneously pays tribute to and affectionately parodies film noirs from the 1940s and 1950s. Only a few years earlier, Reiner and Martin hit comedic pay dirt with The Jerk (1979) and so anticipation was high for this new collaboration. The result was a rare cinematic experiment that was viewed by some as lazy filmmaking and a clever homage by others.

Reiner sets the proper tone right from the get-go by featuring the Universal Pictures logo from the ‘40s. The opening credits play over a rainy city skyline at night (does it get any more noir than that?). The buildings are obviously an illustrated backdrop signifying that we are dealing with a fantasy world drenched in noir, anticipating Sin City’s (2005) own artificial world by many years. Private investigator Rigby Reardon (Steve Martin) is hired by the beautiful Juliet Forrest (Rachel Ward) to investigate the mysterious death of her father John Hay Forrest (George Gaynes), a highly regarded scientist and cheesemaker. The authorities have ruled it an accident but she suspects murder, her father the victim of a giant conspiracy.

Reardon’s hard-boiled voiceover narration plays around with the pulpy dialogue common in the film noir genre for comedic effect. For example, after his first meeting with Juliet, he thinks to himself, “I hadn’t seen a body put together like that since I solved the case of the murdered girl with the big tits.” His voiceovers also complement visual gags like when Reardon arrives at Dr. Forrest’s cheese lab and he observes, “I had no trouble finding Dr. Forrest’s cheese lab. It smelled like the number on the door.” Cut to a shot of a door with a “2” on it. In another scene, Juliet can actually hear Reardon’s voiceover narration, much to his surprise. There are a few gags that would be repeated in the short-lived Police Squad television show, which was also a parody of the crime thriller genre, but Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid’s focus is predominantly film noir.

Reardon is not your typical gumshoe. For example, he goes into a hysterical murderous rampage whenever he hears the words, “cleaning woman.” Steve Martin wisely knows when to play it straight, like when it comes to saying the hard-boiled dialogue that often authentically evokes film noirs while also poking fun at them as well. He also picks his moments to cut loose and act zany, most notably whenever the “cleaning woman” phrase is invoked. Martin has a lot of fun interacting with various screen legends, like the phone conversation he has with a hysterical Barbara Stanwyck from Sorry, Wrong Number (1948). His poker-faced delivery of most of his dialogue is what makes it so funny, as is some of the physical bits of business he does, like when Reardon makes a cup of his famous java for Burt Lancaster from The Killers (1946), which evidently involves an entire bag of coffee grounds and two eggs (including the shells).

Juliet is not a typical femme fatale. For starters, whenever Reardon is shot she removes the bullet with her teeth, a procedure she learned at camp. Rachel Ward looks absolutely gorgeous all dolled up and looking like she walked right out of a film from the ‘40s, which is obviously the look they were going for. Ward has the perfect sultry voice of a noir fatale and watching this film again serves as a vivid reminder of what a sexy presence she was in the 1980s with films like Against All Odds (1984), which really put her on the map and into the mainstream consciousness. Ward seemed to gravitate towards crime films, also appearing in the underrated neo-noir After Dark, My Sweet (1990). Martin and Ward play well off each other and have several funny exchanges of dialogue, like when she tells him at one point, “You’re a very smart man,” to which he replies, “So was Abraham Lincoln. Look what happened to him.”

In the summer of 1980, Martin was having lunch with Reiner and screenwriter George Gipe. They were discussing a screenplay Martin had written when the comedian suggested that they use a clip from an old film somewhere in his project. From this suggestion came the idea of using all sorts of clips from classic films throughout the entire feature. The three men left the lunch thinking about how they could incorporate all of these old clips into a story. Reiner figured that they could work Martin into the old footage via tricks like over-the-shoulder shots so that it looked like he was talking to these famous actors.

Reiner and Gipe spent countless hours viewing classic films looking for specific shots and “listening for a line that was ambiguous enough but had enough meat in it to contribute a line opposite,” Reiner said at the time. He and Gipe took lines of dialogue from the clips they wanted to use and juxtaposed them while also trying to write a story based on them. They finally worked out a story and then met with Martin who contributed some funny material of his own. In preparation for the film, he purposely chose not to watch any classic film noirs because he “didn’t want to act like Humphrey Bogart ... I didn’t want to be influenced.”

In order to accurately recreate the look of film noir, Reiner recruited some of the people that helped define several classic films from the genre. Costume designer Edith Head, responsible for memorable outfits in films like Double Indemnity (1944), Notorious (1946) and Sunset Boulevard (1950), created over 20 suits for Martin in similar fashion to those worn by Cary Grant or Jimmy Stewart back in the day. Production designer John De Cuir, a veteran with 40 years of experience on films like Brute Force (1947) and The Naked City (1948) designed 85 sets over the ten-week shooting schedule. Rounding out these cinematic legends was composer Miklos Rozsa, who created the atmospheric soundtracks for Double Indemnity, Spellbound (1945) and The Asphalt Jungle (1950), and he helped give the film an authentic noir sound. Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid looks and sounds as good as it does because of the work of these talented people. Sadly, it would be the last film for both Head and Rozsa.

Reiner and director of photography Michael Chapman do a pretty good job blending the vintage footage with their own. Nowadays you would just use CGI but back then they didn’t have that luxury and had to pay careful attention to the cinematography so that their shots would match up, making the seamless blend that much more impressive. Chapman studied the angles and lighting popular among ‘40s film noir, conducting six months of research with Technicolor to try and match the old film clips with his new footage. Principal photography began on July 7, 1981 with the bulk of it done on the soundstages of Laird International Studios in Culver City and three exterior locations shot in and around Los Angeles.

Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid actually received a pretty decent response from critics. In his review for Newsweek magazine, David Ansen wrote, "A one joke movie? Perhaps, but it's such an engaging joke that anyone who loves old movies will find it irresistible. And anyone who loves Steve Martin will be fascinated by his sly performance, which is pitched exactly between the low comedy of The Jerk and the highbrow Brechtianisms of Pennies from Heaven." The New York Times’ Vincent Canby praised Martin's performance: "the film has an actor who's one of America's best sketch artists, a man blessed with a great sense of timing, who is also self-effacing enough to meet the most cockeyed demands of the material." However, Time magazine's Richard Corliss wrote, "The gag works for a while, as Martin weaves his own plot-web into the 18 old movies, but pretty soon he's traveling on old good will and flop sweat".

Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid is quite possibly my favorite Steve Martin comedy, even over beloved classics like The Jerk and L.A. Story (1991), because of its film noir trappings and its very funny script chock full of all kinds of gags, both verbal and physical. It is a film noir lover’s dream as we get to see Martin “interact” with the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Burt Lancaster, Veronica Lake, Ingrid Bergman and countless others. There is also a lot of fun to be had identifying which films are used in the various clips seen throughout but this is also one of its criticisms – that the film is nothing more than a stylish parlor game of spot the reference. Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid is some kind of crazed, ambitious experiment that has rarely been duplicated – clearance rights for all of these clips would be a legal nightmare in today’s ultra-litigious climate. In retrospect, the film had limited commercial appeal which may explain why it didn’t exactly set the box office on fire, disappointing mainstream audiences expecting Reiner and Martin to rehash The Jerk. Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid is not talked about much anymore making it prime for rediscovery as a cult film oddity.

Some of the stills used in this article came from the Precious Bodily Fluids blog and this excellent post on the film (featuring more stills). Here is a pretty snazzy fan site.

Here's a clip from the film:

DVD of the Week: Wings of Desire: Criterion Collection

If Paris, Texas (1984) firmly established German filmmaker Wim Wenders on the international art house cinema scene, then Wings of Desire (1987) reinforced his status as one of the world’s premier visual storytellers. Not only is the film an impressive, atmospheric ode to the city of Berlin but it also features a deeply moving romance between a brooding angel and an attractive trapeze artist. Wings of Desire went on to spawn an inferior sequel (Faraway, So Close!) and an even worse Hollywood remake (City of Angels) starring Nicolas Cage and Meg Ryan.

Damiel (Bruno Ganz) is an angel who listens in on the random thoughts of the citizens of Berlin. He is privy to their most trivial ruminations about life and themselves. He and his kind are able to move among humanity undetected except for small children who have yet to be jaded by life and can still see the world through innocent eyes. Damiel shares his daily observations with a fellow angel named Cassiel (Otto Sander). At one point, Damiel tells his friend, “It’s wonderful to live as spirit and testify for all eternity to only what is spiritual in people’s minds.”

However, he yearns to experience the feelings and sensations that humans face on a regular basis – the every day things that most of us take for granted. Cassiel reminds Damiel that their job is to “do no more than look, gather, testify, verify, preserve ... Keep the distance. Keep the word.” However, Damiel begins to seriously consider crossing over and become human when he falls in love with Marion (Solveig Dommartin), a lonely trapeze artist who longs for someone to “say a loving word to me.” He wants to be that person and is willing to sacrifice immortality for simple earthly pleasures and profound human feelings.

Bruno Ganz delivers an absolutely soulful performance with his very expressive face and, in particular, his eyes which convey so much empathy. You find yourself getting caught up in his desire to become human, all for the love of a woman.

Director of photography Henri Alekan photographs all of the scenes from the angels’ perspective in black and white while all of the scenes from the human perspective are in colour. This is a clever way of visually differentiating from what the angels experience and what we do. In addition, Wenders’ camera seemingly floats along like when it gracefully glides around a library where several angels observe humanity. It also flies over the city, providing a god’s eye view of Berlin as the angels watch over us.

Wings of Desire is Wenders’ masterpiece, a thoughtful meditation on what it is to be human. His film draws attention to the little things in life that we tend to forget about by presenting us with a character that cannot experience them. Wenders does this through a screenplay immersed in fascinating philosophical musings and complements them with absolutely stunning visuals that stay with you days after.

Special Features:

The first disc features an audio commentary that actually consists of excerpts of interviews with director Wim Wenders and actor Peter Falk over several years. Wenders talks about the origins of Wings of Desire – it was a return to his hometown of Berlin after spending eight years in the United States. He had planned to make another film but it was too complex and expensive. He had to come up with another idea and quick or the production company he had assembled would break up. This fascinating anecdote is only one of many engaging stories as the two men tell all kinds of filming tales. They do a good job of taking us through the making of this film.

Also included are the German theatrical trailer and an amusing “Wen Wunderts” promo trailer.

The second disc features the bulk of the extra material, starting off with “The Angels Among Us,” a 2003 documentary where key cast and crew members are interviewed. Wenders wanted to make a film about Berlin, the way he remembered it when he was young. Peter Handke talks about his unconventional approach to the script. For the two main angels, Wenders cast Bruno Ganz and Otto Sander based on their 20-year friendship and working relationship. Everyone speaks quite eloquently about their experiences making Wings of Desire.

“Cinema Cinemas” features an interview with Wenders from the February 17, 1987 episode of this French television program. We see Wenders at work on the set of Wings of Desire with his cast and crew shooting scenes from the film.

Also included are nine deleted scenes with commentary by Wenders and outtakes but only with music. Not surprisingly, there is a lot of footage of the angels observing humanity. The outtakes feature all sorts of beautiful shots of Berlin.

There is also a gallery of production design photographs that also highlight the film’s gorgeous art direction. Included are captions that comment on some of these stills.

Also included is an interview excerpt from an interview with director of photography Henri Alekan done in November 1985. He talks about the challenge of achieving the right tone and atmosphere in a film.

“Alekan la Lumiere” features excerpts from a 1985 documentary where Alekan talks to Wenders about his cinematic techniques. There is also footage of him at work.

Finally, there is an excerpt from Remembrance, a 1982 film directed by Ganz and Sander about actor Curt Bois who went on to appear in Wings of Desire.