Movies like this make it hard to be a cynical jackass. I mean it’s just so earnest and wholesome that it feels like peeing on a puppy to even suggest that it is in some way lacking. But this is the 2010s where even our terms of endearment are probably too harsh for the virgin ears of moviegoers in the 1930s. Fact is, classic or not, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington would be a Hallmark TV movie if it was made today.
The plot goes like this: a Senator dies, and his corrupt colleagues choose a naïve successor who won’t make a fuss when they try to pass a bill allowing them to build an evil dam (cue menacing laughter). Their nefarious plan backfires though when their choice turns out to be the star of the picture, Jimmy Stewart, and he’s far too much of a good guy (he’s literally a Boy Scout — actually the head of some Boy Scout-like organization, but still) to allow such shenanigans to take place without a protest. I mean, his name is Jefferson Smith, only the most American sounding name since Commander Stars N. Stripes McEaglepants, a name I just made up. After a patriotic montage that looks like it was paid for by the D.C. tourism board, our boy Jimmy stages an epic filibuster to block the legislation, and eventually, his top-billing, sweaty brow and inspiring idealism convinces the evildoers to see the error of their ways. The end.
Don’t get me wrong — it’s a nice movie. Jimmy Stewart is perfect as the innocent everyman, the bad guys, anchored by the original Invisible Man Claude Rains, are appropriately dastardly, and Jimmy’s co-star, Jean Arthur, is genuinely funny (and not in that funny-for-the-time sort of way you see in most old movies). But the whole thing seems like a product of a stupider time where people actually believed that the government was based on ideals and had our best interests at heart. These days we know better. We pretty much assume politicians are screwing us, we just hope the person we vote for will screw us they way we like it. Or at least give us a reach around. Of course, the 1930s were a time when married couples slept in different beds and wore suits and dresses to the dinner table (or so I imagine from the moving pictures and what not), so I guess double-crossing politicians were probably as foreign as a dirty sanchez to them. (I really have no idea where I’m going with these awful analogies. Let’s move on.)
Look, the bottom line is this: warm and fuzzy makes me nauseous, and the only thing I hate more than a happy person is an idealistic, happy person. In Mr. Smith Goes to Washington world, I suspect there are a lot of idealistic, happy people, and it makes me want to stab them in their idealistic, happy faces.
Don’t judge me — it’s what our founding fathers would have wanted.
DYL MAG Score: 6 or 7 (depending on how stabby I feel that day)
Wherein your intrepid reviewer watches the classics—both mainstream and cult—in an effort to fill in the holes in his pop culture literacy and avoid the garbage that generally defines modern cinema.
For the uninitiated, Oldboy is a Korean film with a pretty great premise. A dude is kidnapped and held captive for 15 years for reasons unknown until he’s randomly released one day and goes about trying to figure out why. Factor in that he’s pretty pissed off and has spent the last decade and a half literally punching stone walls until his knuckles are scar tissue covered anvils and you can be assured that someone’s getting fucked up. Make that multiple someones. With a hammer. Squids, too. (Seriously. He eats a live squid. It’s kind of amazing.)
The thing that makes Oldboy great is that it’s more than just a bloody revenge flick. It’s less [insert Steven Seagal ass-kick fest here] and more Man on Fire if Man on Fire was a bit more bat-shit insane. It’s got a lot of cool, stylistic touches, small but unforgettable details, twisted memorable characters, and a central mystery that doesn’t reveal itself too soon (and when it does—hoo boy—it’s like a bomb of crazy going off on your televison). And Min-sik Choi’s performance as main character Oh Dae-su is fantastic. He brings a sort of ad-libbed quality to the whole thing, which feels like it keeps the movie grounded in some sort of reality, even when everything else is going off the rails. Give this movie to someone like Nicholas Cage (assuming he could speak Korean) and it would be a train wreck of Wicker Man proportions. Instead you get a lead actor who is intense but believable even in face of seriously intense circumstances.
This is not to say that Oldboy isn’t without its flaws. The whole premise, especially after you learn the motives behind it, is pretty elaborately far-fetched. Let’s just say that the villain seems to be the type of person who would commit genocide because you cut him off in traffic. Or like in that South Park episode where some kid makes fun of Cartman so he kills the kid’s parents and feeds them to him in some chili while Radiohead mocks the kid for crying. But movies this entertaining earn their suspension of disbelief and Oldboy is so committed to this over-the-top scenario that you just have to go along for the ride. Most action movies are like amusing wallpaper – nice to look at but ultimately forgettable. Oldboy has depth. It’s the type of film you want to discuss with friends, enemies and casual acquaintances even if it is only to say “Well, that was some fucked up shit right there.” As far as I’m concerned that’s all you could ask for.
[Editor's Note: Welcome Morgan O'Rourke to the Gladiator Movies team and enjoy his first column in a new, recurring series: "New to Me," wherein your intrepid reviewer watches the classics — both mainstream and cult — in an effort to fill in the holes in his pop culture literacy and avoid the garbage that generally defines modern cinema.]
Obviously, Gone with the Wind is a Big Fucking Deal. Every critic puts it at the top of their “Best Movies of All Time” list and I get it. It’s the ultimate epic made in a time when they barely knew how to make movies in the first place. And it’s still the highest grossing movie of all time after you adjust for inflation. (Avatar can suck it.) But here’s the thing: watching this movie now is like taking medicine — and not the good grape-flavored kind that makes you want to swallow the whole bottle and maybe see unicorns — you know it’s probably good for you, but it tastes so terrible that you’d kind of rather stay sick.
Essentially, Gone with the Wind is a four-hour romantic comedy with no jokes and two borderline sociopaths for main characters. I mean, these are terrible people. Scarlett O’Hara is a nasty, entitled bitch who seems to exist as the argument for spousal abuse and Rhett Butler is a charming sex offender with a mustache (I know, kind of redundant). I guess there’s supposed to be a love story in there but Rhett’s most effective romantic gesture is the ol’ rape move, which of course causes Scarlett to fall madly in love with him. It’s an interesting tactic but as far as romantic plotlines go, it doesn’t change the fact that these two are some pretty unlovable assholes so it’s hard to care about what happens to them. Hey, but at least there’s casual racism. So that’s nice. Obviously we’ve got “best ever” material right here.
Now I know people dismiss the whole racism thing because “it was another time.” But I’m pretty sure there was no time when slavery was considered the equivalent of a cool career choice for a black person. Of course, the black people in Gone with the Wind are all just depicted as simple-minded caricatures anyway, so I guess that’s supposed to be fine. I mean the housemaid Mammy (and so begat a thousand stereotypes) is more or less an Aunt Jemima bottle come to life and she’s not even the most embarrassing person in the film. The fact that they gave the actress that played her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, making her the first African-American to win an Academy Award, has to be one of the earliest sightings of so-called “white guilt.” And believe me they had every reason to feel guilty.
Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t watch Gone with the Wind. It’s pretty much required viewing for anyone who considers themselves a movie buff of any depth. It’s definitely an impressive achievement for a 70-year old film. But I get the feeling that more people love this movie because they’re supposed to than because of its actual merit. So, on the one hand, for its historical significance/critical acclaim you’ve got to give this a 9.
But this ain’t history class, Johnny. I’m giving it a:
We don't always review movies, but when we do, we often give them numeric values to let you know what we think. Those numbers roughly mean the following:
10
One of the best movies I've ever seen. If you don't at least sort of like it, I probably just lost some respect for you as a person.
9
Great, great stuff. Your film-watching career can't be complete if you don't see this.
8
You should definitely see this. One of the better films of the year.
7
I enjoyed it. If you see it, you see it, but won't change your life either way.
6
I wasn't upset that I watched this, but it's certainly not great. Watchable if you're on a plane and don't have a book, but wouldn't go out of your way. Meh.
5
Hot garbage, entirely forgettable and a total waste of time. Never watch this.
4
Epically, memorably terrible.
3
You cannot be serious. Maybe the worst thing I've ever seen. Absolutely staggering. Unreal. I loathe everyone involved with this.
2 Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle
1
So bad you actually have to see it.
Movie Reviews
Safe to assume you will probably run into some spoilers. Or not. Guess you will just have to live dangerously.
