The Wild One

Today I watched the 1953 motorcycle gang classic "The Wild One." The movie was directed by Laslo Benedek and stars Marlon Brando, Mary Murphy, and Lee Marvin. The story is loosely based on a short story which, itself, was loosely based on the actual events of a real motorcycle gang riot in 1947.

The film begins with the Black Rebels Motorcycle Club - identified on their jackets by a skull and crossbones logo, with the crossbones replaced by engine pistons - rolling into an unnamed small town. The leader of the BRMC is Johnny Strabler (Brando), and he quickly falls in love with the local beauty and cafe waitress Kathy Bleeker (Murphy), who has very little experience with the world beyond the town borders. A tentative peace exists between the townspeople and the BRMC, moderated by the local sheriff who is simply trying to avoid a riot. This peace is shattered when a rival motorcycle gang, The Beatles (long before they were a band in Liverpool, apparently) arrives in town, led by Chino (Marvin). The new gang starts a bit of trouble, leading to Chino's arrest. The Beatles then begin to terrorize the town, putting a conservative townsman into a prison cell and threatening to rape Kathy, until Johnny shows up to rescue her. Their romance blossoms briefly, but ultimately she rejects him. When he returns her to town, Johnny finds that the people of the town have become an angry mob ready to kill the next motorcyclist they see. In his attempt to get away, Johnny is hit with a tire iron, and his uncontrolled motorcycle kills an innocent man. Johnny is let off the manslaughter charge on the condition that he and his gang never return, but refuses to directly thank those who helped him. He stops briefly to say good-bye to Kathy before he rolls out of town.

This movie is amazing in its simplicity, serving mainly as a vehicle to highlight Marlon Brando. The plot itself is relatively thin, with almost too much time being spent trying to emphasize the hooliganism of the two motorcycle gangs without developing any of the background characters. Almost the entire cast is shallow and static, with spoken lines strategically used to reveal what we need to know about the characters' motivations.

Yet, at the same time, Brando is at his dark and brooding best. His performance of Johnny is visibly torn between his primary rebellious nature and his romantic feelings for Kathy. Johnny's deep-seeded hatred for authority is clear in his refusal to cooperate with the sheriff, even though it would reveal the truth of what happened during the riot. Brando, in "The Wild One," produced a new kind of cool and, in a way, showed that emotional instability and alienation from the world could be a sign of personal strength and leadership.

The movie, in terms of theme, essentially set the stage for "Easy Rider." There is an obvious tension between the conservative townspeople and the outlaw motorcycle gangs. The townspeople are so caught up in the ideas of law and tradition and respect that they are even willing to go outside the law to prove their point. Meanwhile the motorcyclists are simply trying to get along in a world they have rejected and which has rejected them. It is when these two forces - one of constraint and one of recklessness - clash that the two sides of our society become painfully evident. Although "The Wild One" ultimately ends with the suggestion that these two groups can co-exist in a "you go your way, we'll go ours" way, we are left to wonder, especially in our modern society, whether such a paradigm can be sustained.

The Men

I just finished watching Fred Zinnemann's 1950 film "The Men." The movie is most famous for being Marlon Brando's first starring role.

The movie begins, very briefly, with Ken (Brando) sustaining a gunshot wound in the back in World War II combat. From there, the setting shifts to a veteran's hospital filled with paraplegic veterans trying to rehabilitate, where we are introduced to the brutally blunt and honest Dr. Brock (Everett Sloane) who tries to prepare these men for the reality of their lives without use of their legs while also trying to give them hope for living rich, fulfilling lives. Over the course of the movie, we get to know the men in the ward and what motivates them as well as their personal scars and ghosts. Ken is motivated to strengthen his boy as he attempts to re-kindle his relationship with Ellen (Teresa Wright) - his fiance from before the war. Eventually, the two get married, but his emotional instability flares up as they move into their new apartment and he leaves her. Ken goes on a binge and nearly kills himself in a car accident, which leads to him being kicked out of the rehabilitation ward. As Ken leaves, Dr. Brock gives him a little pep talk and convinces Ken to give marriage another shot. The movie ends with Ken visiting Ellen and asking her to give him another chance.

For his first film performance, Brando acts like a seasoned veteran. Apparently, he took his method acting so seriously, that he actually spent a month in a veteran's hospital to prepare for this part. Sloane was also masterful at coming off as crass and mean at first, so that, as a viewer, you come to hate him and the way he treats his patients. Yet, by the end, he has shown that he was doing it all so that his patients could live full lives after leaving his care without kidding themselves as to the reality of their condition.

Although artfully done, the movie comes off as a bit hallow. The background characters are too far in the background, and their personal demons seem a bit forced - such as the clownish gambler whose father is obviously a boozing gambler. Although we realize that Ellen deeply loves Ken, we never really get the chance to find out why or what she sees in him (or why she insists on trying to make it work even after it is painfully obvious that he would rather wallow in his injury). Even the most dynamic character of Dr. Brock remains shrouded in a haze and we learn nothing of him except what we see.

From a contemporary perspective, it raises a few interesting issues which we rarely encounter these days - such as the long-term effects of a major war on a country. Yes, there are many wounded soldiers returning from Afghanistan and Iraq, but these numbers are nowhere near the scale that was seen during the World Wars. After Germany and Japan surrendered in 1945, thousands of wounded soldiers returned to find their lives broken, shattered, and merely a shadow of what they had expected before the war. This movie somewhat effectively demonstrates this problem which impacted our country at the time, but is mostly swept under the rug and not discussed today.

Adam

Last week, Nicole and I went to see "Adam," a 2009 film written and directed by Max Mayer. The movie stars Hugh Dancy as the title character - a young man with Asperger's syndrome - and Rose Bryne as his neighbor Beth.

As the movie begins, Adam's father has just died and he is adjusting to life alone in New York. Beth moves into his apartment complex and the two become good friends, and, eventually, more than friends. Beth reads about Asperger's syndrome so that she can help Adam function better in normal society, even helping him practice for interviews. Tension arises in their relationship, though, as her parents demonstrate disapproval of what is happening and feel that she could do much better. The story reaches its climax when Adam gets the job of his dreams in Flintridge, California, and wants Beth to come with him - but Beth is torn between her love for Adam and her fear that she will never have a normal life if she leaves her family. Ultimately, Beth decides to stay in New York, and Adam moves away on his own. In the last scene, we catch a glimpse of Adam's life in California, and it is apparent that he has become better functioning and is doing well on his own.

I really appreciated that this movie attempted to tackle a very sensitive issue in our modern society - the relationship between "normal" people and those with Asperger's syndrome (on the Autism spectrum). People with Asperger's often have trouble forming emotional connections because it is hard for them to read and understand the emotions of other people, and this often leads to a ego-centrism which prevents healthy relationships. In the movie, Beth realistically fears that Adam will never say "I love you," no matter how much he cares for her. At one point, emotionally upset by a family problem (the film's shallow subplot) she has to tell Adam to hug her because he cannot read between the lines of her comment that she "could use a hug." As the population of people with Asperger's and Autism grows and grows, these are essential human issues that must be faced and addressed at some point, and this movie represented a big step in the right direction.

Except, I think, for the end...

I've spent a lot of time thinking and debating how I felt about the climax and resolution of the story. Beth chooses to stay in New York because she feels that Adam does not truly love her, but that he is only using her because he needs her to navigate the complexities and subtleties of society. Yet, I felt in Adam's plea that he needs her to move with him so that she can "teach him how to get to work" (as well as other tasks) - I felt that in that plea he was, in his own way, saying "I love you." Adam's Asperger's prevented him from understanding her need to hear "I love you," but in his plea I felt he was saying what everyone means when they say those three words - that you need that person in your life, by your side, to help get you through the small and the big tribulations and challenges of simply living. At that moment, I feel that her selfish need to hear three words prevented her from hearing the meaning behind those words that he was outlining.

I'm also a bit confused over the message of the ending. Beth abandons Adam in his time of need, but - good news! Adam's even better than before! Somehow, by leaving him on his own, Adam has learned to survive successfully and overcome his social difficulties! Is this realistic? Probably not...

The final scene of the movie has Adam reading a book that Beth has written about a talking raccoon family (one aptly named "Adam") and how "they didn't really belong there, but there they were." What is that line subtly suggesting about people with Asperger's? That they don't belong? That we just need to accept that they are here to stay? I feel that is probably the wrong message - I feel that we need to embrace them as members of the human race and find out how best we can work with them for the benefit of all - to end the "normal" and "not-normal" divisions that plague our social interactions. This movie, in its (possibly innocent) last lines, suggests otherwise.

Overall, I was impressed with the movie. Dancy's performance was fantastic. And, although I'm not sure I agree with the message of the movie, it's about time a movie made any kind of comment on an issue which is very quickly becoming something that cannot be ignored.

Terminator Salvation

I held out as long as I could, but on Wednesday I finally broke and went to see "Terminator Salvation." The 2009 film, directed by McG, is the fourth film in the "Terminator" series, but is the first one to take placed after Judgement Day - the day that the Skynet military computer program becomes self-aware and launches an attack to wipe-out humanity.

In terms of a timeline, "Salvation" takes place after Judgement Day and the first full assault of the machines, but before John Connor (played in this film by Christian Bale) has risen to total command of the human resistance. We are at a lull in the war - the machines are making smaller campaigns to collect and kill the smaller human settlements, while the humans are still working to organize themselves into a homogenous resistance. The civilized world has been generally obliterated by the machines, with only a few buildings left standing and nature generally taking back the territory.

Into this world wakes up Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington), who isn't quite sure what has happened and can only remember donating his body to science before being executed for a presumably horrendous crime. (The astute eye might catch that the paperwork he signs has Skynet Labs letterhead - foreshadowing!.) He runs into a young Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin) and a little girl in the remains of Los Angeles, and together they decide to track down John Connor. (On the way, though, Reese and the girl are captured by the machines and taken to Skynet headquarters in San Francisco.) Just as he is about to meet Connor, Wright steps on a mine which, instead of killing him...

...reveals that he is, in fact, a new model of Terminator with a human heart and brain! This comes just as much of a shock to Connor as it is to Wright, who does not understand what has happened to him. Connor and Wright agree on a plan in which Wright will infiltrate Skynet headquarters and disable the defenses so that Connor can come in and rescue Reese (who, we all know, needs to survive so that he can go back in time and father Connor).

Big twist here - this was all part of Skynet's plan! Wright had been programmed (without knowing it) to go out, earn Connor's trust, and bring him back. Wright, realizing his unwitting betrayal, rips out the chip that Skynet was using to manipulate him and decides to use his machine-level strength to protect Connor. Eventually they escape, but Connor's heart is damaged and, in a symbol-heavy resolution, Wright donates his heart to Connor to keep the hope of humanity alive.

(Oh, and there was a subplot about a weakly organized human resistance trying to destroy the machines with some sort of radio wave which would tell them to shut down. When the leaders of this resistance group do not listen to Connor and launch an attack, the machines destroy that arm of the resistance, and Connor comes to power.)

Was the movie a neat episode in a franchise which had been sent off-course with the third film (forever unnamed here)? Yes. Was it a great movie? No. The plot of the movie moved across long flat plains and would then make huge jumps. The characters were all these confused, introverted people which made it hard for the viewer to have any sort of relationship with them.

The movie suffered from not really adding anything to the prior movies. It seemed more like a fan-fiction story made into a movie. We didn't learn anything new about Connor or the war with the machines. It did not directly effect on developments made in the original two stories, but also did not bring anything new to the table. Rather, it simply seemed to exist in a world that had already been created.

The Painted Desert

This afternoon I watched Howard Higgin's 1931 western "The Painted Desert." To be honest, I'm not quite sure how this movie got on my Netflix queue. Nor am I quite sure how it made it to the top of the queue. But, sure enough, it was mailed to me and I managed to ignore it for quite a while. Until this afternoon...

The movie begins with two cowboys - Cash Holbrook (played by William Farnum) and Jeff Cameron (played by J. Farrell MacDonald) - finding a baby at an abandoned wagon camp near their well. The two men agree that they will take care of the baby together.

Then, the film flashes forward about 20 years, and apparently Holbrook and Cameron have become mortal enemies for reasons unexplained (although there is reference to Holbrook taking the baby and some sort of dispute about the well). The baby has grown up into Bill Holbrook (played by William Boyd before he became Hopalong Cassidy) and has his sites set on marrying Cameron's daughter Mary Ellen. But to marry her he needs to mend the wound between the two old men, and so hatches some sort of plan involving tungsten mining.

Of course, the malicious cowboy Rance Brett (played by Clark Gable in his first speaking role) has recently stumbled into town and also set his sights on Mary Ellen, it seems. Brett sets about sabotaging Bill's plans and generally causing spite and anger between the two old men. Bill realizes Brett's plan, but not before the two old men wander through town - somehow building tension - looking to duel each other. At the last moment, Bill jumps between the dueling old men and ends up shot, although not mortally, and the two men see the error of their feud.

This movie had a lot of heart, and showed a lot of promise. Somehow, the promise never quite paid off. The characters fell flat, and there were quite a few plot holes and leaps of logic taken in the 75 minute film. The movie never explains what drove the two men apart, except that they both wanted to raise the boy as their own. There is little to no action, and the most exciting scene merely consists of the two old men wandering around the shanty town trying to find each other so they can duel. In the context of a very early western, it succeeded at presenting a genre film with genre tropes and elements. But by modern standards, it does not hold up.

The Joke's Over

A few days ago, I finished reading Ralph Steadman's book "The Joke's Over." The 2006 book is a memoir of sorts, chronicling Steadman's professional and personal relationship with the late writer Hunter S. Thompson.

The book begins very slowly and seemed very disappointing at first. Essentially, the first chapter discusses how Steadman and Thompson were first assigned to each other and met for their first assignment at the 1970 Kentucky Derby. This was disappointing because this meeting and event was already covered by Thompson in the article "The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved."

But after that, Steadman's narrative changes a bit and focuses more on telling anecdotal stories about times he spent with Thompson, filming documentaries or preparing books together. Steadman's book seems like a "Behind-the-Scenes" feature or "Collaborator's Commentary" to Thompson's writings. Steadman gives us a bit more context and material to consider, clarifying much of what was distorted in Thompson's articles (or, perhaps, considering Steadman's art, distorting them further).

Although Thompson usually presented himself as an invincible embodiment of freedom and masculinity, Steadman's book shows Thompson as being much more human and fallible. There is an extensive section which discuss his painful attempts to write about the Honolulu Marathon, which eventually lead to his personal and internal struggles trying to complete "The Curse of Lono." Although Steadman and Thompson were collaborators on the Lono book, Steadman makes it clear that Thompson made it a difficult book to complete, and strained their relationship. Although their personal relationship continued until Thompson's suicide in 2005, it is clear that their professional collaborations essentially ended after the Lono experiment.

Steadman's book on Thompson is weakened mainly by the fact that, in all truth, their work and time spent together was relatively limited, and that their collaborations were often just one of many projects Steadman on which Steadman was working. Significant portions of the book are spent discussing his other projects and events only tangentially related to Thompson. Which would be fine, except the book was clearly marketed (even to the point of the subtitle: "Bruised Memories: Gonzo, Hunter S. Thompson, and Me) as being about Steadman's work with the late writer.

It is evident, from reading, though, that Steadman was not, in any way, trying to leech off Thompson's death or to profit from his pain. His tone, when writing of Thompson, is usually tender and kind, and occasionally bittersweet. He is reflecting upon the life of a unique man, with whom he worked regularly. And, put simply, it is often touching.

Lastly, I want to share one passage of the book which particularly struck me. It comes from Steadman's journal of their time in Hawaii, working on the Lono book. They have visited a ancient Hawaiian sacred temple, and decided not to disturb it (except to take a quick picture).

"The most important thing about being in the City of Refuge is simply that you are there, steeped in the blackness and fanned by the waving palms, surrounded by stories far, more significant than ours. They are stories that speak with authority, tried and tested and passed down from father to son and mother to daughter. We had no story to tell there. There are no stories to tell gods. They know them all. We need only to listen and look. Their stories are everywhere. Carved grimacing faces shout truths that never change and stand as irrefutable proof of what no longer survives outside this sacred place." (222)

That may have been Thompson's problem all along...

Czechvar

A few weeks ago, my sister - knowing my love of all things Czech, as well as most things beer - presented me with a six-pack of a beer labeled "Czechvar - Premium Czech Lager." At first, I was merely amused by the novelty of it - a true Czech beer! (Although a few years ago a friend and I brewed a batch of Czech-style pilsner - the world-famous "Czechmate Brew" - Irvine hardly qualifies as my family's homeland.)

The novelty wore off relatively quickly (a few days of seeing the bottles lined up in the fridge), and I decided to pop one open and try it. Even Nicole got in on the game, wanting to taste a true Czech brew.

We should have taken it as a bad omen when I couldn't get the bottles open. If you look closely at the picture above, you can see that the cap and top inch-and-a-half of the bottle are wrapped in a piece of gold-colored foil. That foil is completely glued down to the bottle, making it impossible to tear off except in tiny strips. Eventually, I gave up and just used a bottle opener to take off the cap directly from under the foil, which was effective except that it made the bottle-drinking experience uncomfortable (and slightly dangerous).

On first sip, Czechvar is brutally bitter. So bitter, in fact, that it's hard to distinguish any other flavor, subtle or otherwise. It made for a thoroughly unsatisfying drinking experience. (Nicole may have sworn off beer forever, although that just leaves all the beer drinking to me.)

The only solace was that, as the beer warmed up, so did the flavor. Which, in retrospect, makes me wonder if we should have been drinking it warm all along (or even at room temperature). Too late to think about that now.

Also, as a final note, in trying to find a picture for this post on Czechvar, I came across the Wikipedia page for the beer, which revealed to me that the beer is, in fact, the Budweiser of the Czech Republic - literally!