Just Watch.

Repulsion

Roman Polanski, 1965

I just watched this. You can read about it here.

Manhattan

Woody Allen, 1979

I don't know how much I can say about this one; hopefully a mere "wow" will suffice. I don't go in for Woody-bashing that was all the rage in the pre-Match Point world. My theory is that even a crappy Allen flick is going to be a lot better than most of what's out there. He's like Roger Federer in this one solitary respect: everyone else would kill to have his "bad year." 

I would also like to unequivicoally state that I worship and adore two of Allen's alleged stinkos: Manhattan Murder Mystery and Everyone Says I Love You. They're both indulgent and terrible, but the chutzpah and sincerity that goes into them makes them sublime. It's a whole new genre of film: awesomely bad movies by directors who should have known better. (Another possible contender: Robert Altman's Pret a Porter)

But we digress. What I meant to say is that watching this movie made me realize why people got so pissed at Woody's flops. Because this is just so wonderful; a director at the peak of his powers. Allen will forever be known as a poet of neuroses and a very verbal, dialogue-driven auteur, and he doesn't disappoint here; the scenes flow organically, and are effusive and buoyant in spite of the neurotic undertones.  But the visual, aesthetic side is top-notch as well. The picture has that flat, shallow, wide quality that always strikes me as particularly elegant and refined. The two-shot of Woody and Mariel Hemingway in the final scene is achingly beautiful; it's a rare and delicate coin we're invited to flip. 

Watching Manhattan made me realize how deep of an influence Bergman was on Allen; they're both filmmakers who use their work to examine human morality. (If you must, insert your own Soon Yi joke here.) I was genuinely touched by that scene where Woody's in front of the skeleton and talking about how we're all headed that way, but how we conduct ourselves in the meanwhile matters. The one where he lists all the things that make life worth living was also completely charming, and very instructive to anyone with a case of the blues. When in doubt, put on the Marx Brothers.

1776

Peter H. Hunt, 1972

I was completely obsessed with this musical when I was about fourteen -- played the CD (remember those, kids?) endlessly. And, looking at this film, it's not hard to see why. The songs are catchy in a poppy, Schoolhouse Rock kind of way, and the lyrics are very nerdy-word: it's not everday that you see "Connecticut" rhymed with "etiquette" and "predicate."

But the real reason for 1776's appeal is that its central conceit is an utterly charming one: that our founding fathers were not august demigods, but a bunch of drunkards, horndogs and egotists -- impassioned, intelligent, but undeniably human. And that comes shining through in this adaptation.

The only problem, filmically speaking, is that most of the action takes place within the Congressional hall, which doesn't make for the most visually interesting picture. There is some fancy weaving camera movement, which livens things up a bit, and the outside scenes are lively enough. But there's no denying it lags a bit.