The Social Network
Walking into the theatre with a vague notion that David Fincher’s new Film, The Social Network, was about the creation of Facebook, I was skeptical. How could the making of a website ever be interesting? There’s just too much math.
But what I didn’t know was that the story behind the development of the world’s most powerful social network is only partially about a nerd entering code. Beyond the computer science, it is a complicated tale, full of ethical dilemmas, wavering loyalties, and insights about the often bizarre way institutions function. Few other movies are able to pull off this type of depth, while still allowing the plot to move forward. Parts one and two of Francis Ford Coppola’s Godfather Trilogy come as notable exceptions.
My Own Private Idaho
dir. Gus Van Sant
Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho (1991) is something of a rough collage. Constantly shifting styles, the film, at different times, has the feeling of a pseudo-Shakespearian comedy, a familial melodrama, and a classic road tale in the vein of Easy Rider. And to add even more confusion, all of these elements are played out in gay-prostitute underworld of the Pacific Northwest (oh and a little bit in Idaho and Italy too). The film follows the life of Mike (River Phoenix)-an allergic, narcoleptic, and emotionally violent hustler who goes about his business in the slums of Seattle. In these ventures, Mike soon encounters Scott (Keanu Reeves) an old friend and fellow call-boy. From here, the two travel around on many adventures-the purpose of which eventually crystallizes into the search for Mike’s estranged mother.
This longing, on Mike’s part, to finally see mommy again gives the film a place to go, but is far from its most interesting aspect. Instead, the viewer will be drawn to the contradictory world members of the Northwest’s prostitute sub-culture occupy. In many ways the existence of these Hustlers is quite miserable. They sleep on roofs or in doorways, and to survive, must indulge their client’s bizarre fetishes, which Van Sant does not hesitate to display in painful detail. But in another way, the characters of the film’s sub-culture have a vibrant quality that cannot be found in the “legitimate” world their clients occupy. Many wear flamboyant neon jackets with tight jeans and cowboy boots that clearly set them apart from the more conventional sort. Others speak in a vernacular that strangely and cleverly blends hipster slang with Shakespearian English-often giving what would be normally mundane observations a distinctly poetic quality. And all of Idaho’s Hustler characters possess the defiant demeanor-associated with all the proudest counter-cultures-that allows them to say “yeah I’m weird, and fuck you” with every step.
But superficial differences aside, the hustler world that Mike, Scott, and the many others in the film occupy is permeated by a class hierarchy that sharply resembles that of the “normal” world. Throughout the film, Van Sant plays with this irony to an often divesting effect. His ability to make Idaho so strange and yet so familiar is what makes it an engaging film.
Nathan Walker
nwalker01@hamlineuniversity.edu
Hiroshima Mon Amour
Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959) begins like a documentary. Just after the opening credits, the viewer is taken along on a crisp montage consisting of a mixture of images depicting the bomb’s grisly aftermath, as well as shots of the various mechanisms-monuments and museums-the city relies on to remember the event. Patched over director Alain Resnais’ camera is a conversation between the films two main characters-French actress Elle (Emmanuelle Riva), and Japanese Architect Lui (Eiji Okada). Though, their tones are soft and friendly, the pair are disagreeing on a major point. “I saw everything [in Hiroshima]” claims Elle, describing Resnais’ scenes of vacant hospital patients, enraged protesters, and eerie museum exhibits. “You saw nothing in Hiroshima” counters Lui-offering no evidence for his assertion, but repeating it adamantly.
This discussion over who remembers correctly serves nicely to set up one of Resnais’ main purposes in the film- to consider how memory functions in our lives. In particular he seems interested in how recollections ebb and flow, for a time slipping into the depths of our subconscious- only to be retrieved when least expected in an experience that is quite jarring for the individual, but also those surrounding them.
Resnais’ use of Hiroshima’s plot to develop this question is a classic example an “essay film”- a concept developed by him and other members of the 1960’s French New Wave. Their idea was to use the Cinema as a means of argument, a medium for elaborating on cataclysmic clashes of culture that were occurring during their time.
And in the case of Hiroshima, these conflicts are present as its characters-both of whom are married- navigate their way through a passionate romance that takes place in a Hiroshima that has been reborn into a bustling cluster of cabaret’s and coffee joints. During this exchange the two characters find themselves separated in terms of sex, race, nationality, and profession. But to Resnais’ credit, these divisions do not dominate the film. Instead, he quietly weaves them into his broader concerns about memory, which compels the viewer to think about the films as a whole, instead of being distracted by awkward points of tension. This type of seamlessness really makes the film a real treat.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
Reds
The rather black and white narrative-pitting American good against Soviet evil- that many people in this country assign to the Cold War tends to block out a much more complicated and accurate version of American history that includes people sympathetic to the Soviet cause. Reds, directed by Warren Beatty and released in 1981, sets out to debunk this oversimplification.
The story-based on the life of journalist Jack Reed (played by Beatty) – begins in the energetic, but largely abstract world of the American counterculture that existed in the 1910’s. Reed, a prominent fixture within this social scene, is a talented journalist whose Marxist sympathies do just enough to prevent him from enjoying the comforts of a successful career at a mainstream publication. Instead of becoming a bonafide member of the journalistic establishment, he floats in between two worlds, one occupied by irregular and fiery radicals debating how to bring about a worker’s revolution, and another comprised of well tailored socialites-many prominent editors- of who mostly have lukewarm liberal views.
But then-in 1917- revolution strikes in Russia and Reed-along with his journalist wife Louise Bryant (Diane Keaton at her very best)- through a combination of skill and circumstance find themselves embroiled in a concrete application of the beliefs they had spent so much time arguing over and drinking to. As the revolution progresses, they can barely write fast enough to record its swirl of events that took place during Russia in that fateful year.
Though it is solidly shot- with convincing period costumes and props- the film’s real strength lies in its screenplay-which Beatty co-wrote with Trevor Griffiths. Both writers provide an incredibly complex portrait of both Reed, but also the American leftist movement-comprised of a cacophony of intriguing characters including anarchist Emma Goldman (Maureen Stapleton) and playwright Eugene O’Neil (Jack Nicholson), whose tendencies toward combat and copulation make for all sorts of drama.
And by the closing credits- this epic-three hour plus narrative- remains remarkably fresh- revealing a slew of interesting ideas relating to the challenges faced by Reed in balancing political and personal life, as well as those of the American communist movement in responding to the Bolshevik Revolt. This type of complexity makes both disks well worth it.
Nathan Walker
nwalker01@hamline.edu
HBO’s “The Wire”
The success of “The Sopranos” allowed HBO to put up a slew of similar shows, unable to match the quality of the channel’s original crime family hit. But a few have measured up quite well. Of these, there is probably no better example than “The Wire.”
Set in contemporary Baltimore, season one begins with a relatively simple plot: a special investigative unit in the Baltimore City Police Department is tasked with busting up a drug-ring run by gangsters in the city’s western housing projects. From here, as the investigation gains steam and the seasons pass by, things become a bit more complicated as the detectives begin to make connections between the drug-ring and various members of the Baltimore community. The result of all this is anything but the standard version cops and robbers. The show paints nuanced portrait of Baltimore, exploring how the city deals with its crime problem, but also depicting daily life in the city’s various ethnic and economic subunits.
Through all of this, creator David Simon is able to maintain a stark sense of realism. This especially comes through in how the Baltimore City Police Department functions. Instead of working like a well-slicked machine, “The Wire’s” police department often barely functions. Indeed, many officers make a habit of brutalizing petty criminals and commanders don’t pursue difficult cases in order to keep their stats positive, just to name a few things.
Along with this engaging plot, the show is bolstered by a competent acting core: including, Lance Reddick, Michael Kenneth Williams, and Dominic West. This combination makes for a both thrilling and thought provoking viewing experience.
*Unfortunately, “The Wire” like many great HBO shows, came to an end last year after a five year run on the network.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
She’s Gotta Have It
This summer Spike Lee found himself in a familiar place: the news headlines. The 20th anniversary for the release of his masterwork Do the Right Thing fell in August, and this resulted in a steady stream of reminiscence about all the controversy the film caused. All this talk about Thing is fine, but sometimes the film tends to overshadow the rest of Lee’s work. Though his career has been sporadic, Lee has put out a number of other thoughtful movies, including his debut project She’s Gotta Have It.
Like Thing, Have it is set in Lee’s home neighborhood of Bed-Stuy Brooklyn, but this time he chooses to frame the community in an entirely different manner. Instead of being bathed in numerous vibrant colors-as Thing was-Lee places his characters in an environment that is, with one showy exception, starkly black and white. Such an absence of color, along with Lee’s tendency toward longer shots interspersed with frenetic editing, causes Have It to feel a bit like the films of the 1960′s French New Wave; his scenes of Bed-Stuy’s streets and stoops contain especially strong echoes of the Parisian neighborhoods where Jean Luc Godard shot Breathless, considered to be one of the most important New Wave films.
Yet instead of being about conflicted artisans or intellectuals, a trade mark of the hallowed French school, Lee’s screenplay in Have It encompasses a broad range of characters. At its center is Nola Darling (Tracy Camilla Johns), an advertising professional who absurdly carries on relationships with three different men-all of whom are aware that she is unfaithful. The three lovers, Mars Blackmon (Spike Lee), Greer Childs (John Canada Terrell), and Jamie Overstreet (Tommy Redmond Hicks), spend the film trying to convince Darling to ditch her other two partners, but also serve as an allegorical cross section of the Black Male community. Childs, a career obsessed model with a white slicked back hair style, is a rabid assimilationist. Blackmon, marked by goofy glasses and mismatched outfits worn by Buggin Out in Thing, wanders Brooklyn as a rebellious hustler. And Overstreet, who sticks to a collared shirt and jeans, serves as Lee’s Black everyman.
By constructing this foil, Lee allows viewers to think about a host of issues regarding race, gender, and sexuality in America, but while Have it is intellectually provocative it tends be bland in places. Lee attempts to liven the film with various injections of irony, but these are quashed by his overuse of monologues and the generally dispassionate delivery of Have Its cast.
It’s interesting cinema, but don’t expect to be on the edge of your seat.
Nathan Walker
nwalker01@hamline.edu
Waltz With Bashir
Ari Folman, the Israeli director and animator, was a member of his country’s army during one of its darker periods. He served during the Lebanon war of the early 1980’s, when Israeli forces aided their Lebanese Christian allies in massacring hundreds, if not thousands of Palestinians living in the Sabra and Shatila Refugee camps. Yet surprisingly, the event was not imprinted in Folman’s memory; he got out of the army and went on with his professional life without really giving his experience in Lebanon much thought. Then, more than twenty years removed from his military service, he began having a recurring flashback to the day of the killings. The memory was particularly haunting because it was the only thing about the Lebanon war Folman could remember; besides it, his recollections on the experience were completely blank. Jarred by the idea that he could forget most of what happened in such a significant event, Folman began interviewing some of his old comrades, as well as a couple of mental health experts, with the hope of jogging his own recollections. He describes this process in his most recent film Waltz With Bashir (2008).
Documentary, in the sense of its standard definition, is not an accurate label for Bashir. In a number of ways, Folman uses the film to challenge the general idea of what a non-fiction feature should look like. Such rebellion comes most forcefully in the director’s almost exclusive use of animation. Aside from a few shots at Bashir’s end, all of its scenes originated on a cartoonists’ drawing board. This structure allows the Folman to frequently defy chemistry by manipulating the natural color of objects. Many times in Bashir, the Lebanon portrayed becomes a gloomy mixture of unsettling blacks, blues, yellows, and grays, providing the viewer with an often psychedelic experience.
Along with these technical feats, Folman also uses Bashir to prove his is a gifted narrator. Following a multi-layered narrative-covering both the war experience and psychology of memory- the film tracks an animated Folman as he travels from interview to interview. This decision, on the part of the director, to include himself as an on-screen character gives Bashir a sense of fluidity- usually only found in fiction, and Folman’s active presence further provides chances for his role as interviewer to be reversed. The ex-soldiers and mental health experts he talks with often ask him questions- allowing genuine dialogue to take place.
This type of thoughtful conversation, along with Bashir’s stunning animation, makes the film well worth watching.
Nathan Walker
Night and Fog
In the decade following the Holocaust, conversation on the subject was largely mute. Some people had problems finding a way to conceptualize the evil of Hitler’s Nazi regime, while others simply did not want to think about it. Within this context, French director Alain Resnais decided that the cinema might be a good place to begin the process of breaking through this sense of public amnesia. The result of his inclination was Night and Fog (Nuit et Brouillard) — one of the most important documentary films ever made.
As Fog only runs about 30 minutes, a comprehensive account of the Holocaust is not Resnais’ intention. Instead, with a mixture of black and white still photos and similarly colored archival footage, he briefly explains the forces behind the creation of the Nazi concentration camps and the many horrid aspects of camp life. Throughout the film, Michel Bouquet’s skillfully understated and often ironic narration accompanies images of packed cattle cars, gruesome medical experiments, and scratches on the gas chamber ceiling.
These old photos and bits of footage are juxtaposed with color shots of an abandoned and disintegrating Auschwitz, taken by Resnais in the mid 1950’s. During such segments, the Frenchman cleverly captures the public reluctance to engage the Holocaust with decidedly timid camerawork; as it pans left and right Resnais’ lens often changes speed generating a feeling of shaky unease.
Today, it seems that this feeling has been, for the most part, extinguished from the public mind; there are now scores of films available on the Holocaust. And while the removal of this taboo does make the experience of viewing Fog slightly less meaningful, it shouldn’t prevent people from setting aside half an hour and watching the film. Those who do will be treated to excellent directing on the part of Renais, and exposed to the Nazis’ atrocities with a poignant force that is matched by few, if any, other visual interpretations of the event.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
Rock the Garden 2009
At 4:30, just as the steamy afternoon heat began to set in, local act Solid Gold opened the show at Minneapolis’ second annual Rock the Garden–the four band mini-festival held in the Walker Arts Center’s sculpture garden. Unfortunately their performance was a bit lackluster. For starters, whoever was in charge of sound had some issues. Throughout the set, the band’s techno under-beats blasted over everything else, causing the sponsor banner covering the speakers to pulse violently and making it very difficult to hear lead singer, Zachary Coulter’s, voice. And even when Coulter did come through, it was less than astonishing. He’s by no means a bad vocalist, but there are about a thousand others alt. rock singers who have the exact same mid-pitched croon.
Chris Keating, Yeasayer’s (the next act’s) man-at-the-mic proved to be a lot more interesting. His bluesy wail, with its sense of emphatic insistence, is strongly reminiscent of Talking Head’s front man David Byrne (though Keating doesn’t quite have Byrne’s rich tone). These authentic vocals were nicely supported by the band’s thumpy low-toned percussion (also echoing the Heads), and its more subtle, in comparison to Solid Gold’s use of techno lines. I think I’ll buy their album.
Next came Calexico-Yawn! The band definitely has a unique sound; one does not often find Mariachi horns in alt-rock, but their music lacked passion. With the exception of “Jesus and Tequila”- held together by a particularly groovy bass line, I found myself bored throughout their time on stage. It seems they forgot that this was a live concert and not a recording session.
But this didn’t matter much; 15 minutes after Calexico finished, the real show started when The Decemberists, led by singer/ guitarist Colin Meloy, strolled onto stage and launched into a live performance of their Hazards Of Love rock opera. Just a few bars in, the band established that, musically, they are miles ahead of any of the other groups who played earlier. Their sound, which alternates between having a rockabilly tinge on slower pieces, to a more metallic feel when things speed up, has obviously been polished by hours of dedicated practice. This technical prowess gives the band room to experiment. Hazards Of Love really is a rock opera; Meloy and Co. played for about an hour straight, no breaks, and their show, adding to its theatrical design, was strictly choreographed. Hazards should not be mistaken for a great piece of theater, but it was still pretty damn good for a rock and roll band. It was worth the 40 dollar ticket just to see them.
Nathan Walker
nwalker01@hamline.edu
Chop Shop
On the Indie film circuit, Ramin Bahrani has emerged as a rising star among directors. His films Man Push Cart, Chop Shop, and Goodbye Solo have all gotten good reviews from a number of critics. I have yet to see Cart or Solo, but Shop certainly lives up to its hype.
Bahrani’s screenplay, co written with Bahareh Azimi, builds around the daily doings of Alejandro (Alejandro Polanco)- a twelve year old Puerto Rican boy who lives in New York City’s Queens Borough. Orphaned and removed from any sort of social service, Alejandro doesn’t attend school, but instead hustles on Queen’s streets for money to survive. Surprisingly, this desolate existence doesn’t get him down; Alejandro shows an incredible amount of resource and optimism as he sells candy bars on the subway near the film’s beginning. Eventually, these same qualities help him land a job at a neighborhood car body shop (hence, the film’s title) owned by Rob (Rob Sowulski), who also lets Alejandro and his older sister Isamar (Isamar Gonzalez) sleep in a small apartment above the garage. Together, the brother and sister work, Alejandro at the shop and Isamar in a food vending truck, to cover their daily expenses and save enough money to fulfill their dream of buying their own food truck.
With his day-in-the-neighborhood format Bahrani shows his familiarity with the work of Spike Lee, and like any good borrower he pays tribute to Brooklyn’s best filmmaker with a number of allusions to Lee’s classic, Do the Right Thing. The most notable of these comes in Shop’s dialogue when Alejandro accuses Isamar of having bad breath, just as Jade does to her brother Mookie early in Thing.
Despite Lee’s obvious influence, Barhrani is still able to construct an aesthetic uniquely his own. Instead of creating an environment that often seems to depart from reality, as Lee does in Thing with his loud dialogue, flamboyant costumes, and discolored cinematography, Barhani builds a world that strongly adheres to the one we already live in. The ability Bahrani shows in Shop to blend his own sense of originality with conventions already established by other important directors makes this film well worth seeing.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
The Times of Harvey Milk
This winter, I saw and enjoyed Gus Van Sant’s film, Milk. It sparked my interested learning more about Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to political office in America (serving on San Francisco’s Board of Supervisors in the late 1970’s,). So, I decided to check out The Times of Harvey Milk, Rob Epstein’s 1984 Oscar-wining documentary.
While watching Times it soon becomes clear that Van Sant has also seen it. The documentary, roughly speaking, follows the same narrative as the feature– taking the viewer along the path of Milk’s evolution from a camera store owner in the Castro, San Fran’s gay neighborhood, to a political activist, and finally to an elected official who is tragically assassinated. Despite this likeness, Times does not feel like a mere imitation of Van Sant’s film. Instead, the interviews Epstein includes provide detailed explanations of ideas relating to the supervisor’s career that Milk can only allude to, including his campaign methods, relationship with labor unions, and his thoughts on how Gays could reach out to mainstream America.
From a stylistic standpoint, Times’ best moments come during the archival footage Epstein chooses to include. The recycled reels prick many different points along viewer’s emotional spectrum as the frames shift from the wonderfully colorful, vibrant images of cross dressers marching in the Castro’s gay pride parade to shots of fearful and sullen mega-churchgoers as they are instructed on homosexuality’s evils. Unfortunately, Epstein decided to skimp on the total amount of archival footage used for the film; his camera spends far too much time focused on the rather dull faces of the people he interviews, and this causes Times to drag in places. This sense of lethargy is intensified by the narrator, Harvey Feinstein, who, with his fatigued lisp, often sounds as if he is reading from a mediocre history text-book. Still, these flaws are worth the viewer’s perseverance; The Times of Harvey Milk remains a solid piece of film making and its subject is a fascinating character-often overlooked by people interested in American History.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
Into the Wild
dir. Sean Penn
“If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, the possibility of life is destroyed.” This quote briefly summarizes the world-view of Christopher McCandless, (Emile Hirsch, Valentino’s new face for the Men’s Spring/Summer 2009 collection)– the protagonist in Sean Penn’s film Into the Wild. Released in 2007, the movie is modeled after Jon Krakuers’ non-fiction book with the same title. Wild chronicles the travels of McCandless, who after graduating from college, decides that he is not suited for 1990’s professional life and takes to the road as a hobo-adventurer. As Penn reveals, many different forces underline Mcandless’ choice to reject normal American life; these, include a frustration with materialism, anger at the restrictions parents (William Hut and Marcia Gay Harden) try to place on his life’s course, and a desire, bolstered by McCandless’ love of classic authors like Thoreau and Tolstoy, to find some sort of fundamental truth in human nature.
Wild feels a lot like a 1990’s movie adaptation of “On the Road”- Jack Kerouac’s classic Beat novel. Like Kerouac’s manic character Dean Moriarty, McCandless, under the absurd name of Alex Supertramp, rambles from one part of America to the next, acting only on the whim of his reckless instincts. Yet, McCandless should not be dismissed as a Moriarty imitator; he possesses both a sense of introspection and compassion for others that escapes Kerouac’s primal womanizer.
The most striking aspect of Penn’s film certainly lies in its setting; the camera follows McCandless as he passes through many of the most beautiful parts of America. The viewer is treated to spectacular scenes of the sand-baked, cactus ridden deserts of the country’s Southwest, the thunderous and foaming rapids on the Rio Grande River, and the eerie expanse of Alaska’s back country. Unfortunately, Penn’s skill as a director and screenwriter does not match the brilliance of the natural wonders he chooses as his backdrop. At some points, the dialogue is weakly crafted- this especially comes through in Mcandless’ exchanges with Rob Franz (Hal Holbrook), an elderly widowed man he meets in Arizona. Despite these flaws, Into the Wild remains an interesting picture; Hirsch gives a strong performance that compels the viewer to reflect on issues relating to the tensions between personal liberty and social responsibility.The inclusion of these ideas makes Penn’s sometimes patchy film making worth viewing.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
This is England
Reggae enthusiasts are sure to enjoy This is England. The film, released in 2006 and both written and directed by Englishman Shane Meadows, features three classics from the acclaimed Reggae group Toots and the Maytals. Maytals fans, who watch the movie, will be treated to performances of the jarring prison chant “54-46 was my Number”, “Pressure Drop”-one of the group’s whimsical dance numbers, and “Louie, Louie”-a cover of the Kingsmen’s drunken classic which the Maytals slow down, giving the song a pleasantly unique feel. Besides his good taste in soundtracks, Meadows displays a bright talent as both a writer and director. With “England’s” screenplay, he crafts an engaging narrative, set in early 1980’s Britain, which explores the advent of various working class Skinhead groups as a response to the decline of the nation’s industrial economy and increase in the size of its immigrant population.
Meadows’ protagonist, a twelve year old boy named Sean (Thomas Turgoose) who is raised by his Mother since his Father died in the Falkland War (still in progress during the time period the film portrays), lives in the poor section of an unnamed English city which has been spared none of the economic strife brought on by post-industrialization. Throughout the film, this reality of financial decay is constantly present as abandoned factories, graffiti ridden underpasses, and decrepit apartment complexes serve as the backdrop for most of the character interaction. Despite growing up in such an uncharacteristically harsh environment, Sean’s main difficulty in day-to-day life could be faced by any boy his age: he can’t seem to fit in at the local school. Due to his outdated clothing, Sean becomes a target for the insults of older children; yet, as the film progresses, being picked on turns out to benefit him, as it draws the sympathy of a number of older teens- who happen to be Skinheads. Sean befriends this rather dubious group, and the rest of the movie depicts the evolution of his relationships with its various members. Given the crude racism practiced by some people in the clique, Sean, by the film’s end, is forced to make a choice between maintaining his friendships and rejecting bigotry. For the impressionable twelve year old, this is anything but easy.
Meadow’s skill as a filmmaker becomes apparent in his ability to fluidly establish social and political context. He accomplishes this in England’s first three minutes where he, with “54-46” as sound, places a montage of news footage containing various elements of British life during the early 1980’s. These wordless images clearly show an England that is divided between a satisfied majority that passes its time ogling at Princess Di, taking dance aerobics, and, most importantly, voting for Margret Thatcher’s Tory government, and a frustrated minority that splits in two ideological directions: radical leftists are identified as they assault the Island Nation’s missile silos and Right-wing Skinheads while doing the same to the homes of immigrants. Meadows’ use of this montage marks an important innovation concerning the construction of polemical films. In the past, such movies, when trying to provide the viewer with contextual insight, have often resorted to fragmented discussion between characters that inevitably comes across as insincere (see Ghandi or another Skinhead film American History X for examples). Meadows, through his collection of news images, has found an effortless way to avoid this hitch. This simple, but clever style of directing remains constant throughout This is England and makes the film well worth watching.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
Midnight Cowboy
Winning Best Picture in no way guarantees the quality of a film, but in the case of Midnight Cowboy it seems the Academy got this one right. The movie, which received the honor in 1969, stars Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight; it begins with the character Joe Buck, played by Voight, a Texas dishwasher, who wears a flamboyant Cowboy costume, deciding to leave the Lone Star State for New York City to seek his fortune. Not long after Buck reaches his destination, he encounters Rico Rizzo a clever, but crippled Italian hustler played by Dustin Hoffman who has acquired, due to his habit of petty theft, the derogatory nickname “Ratso.” The meeting serves to spark an enduring relationship, full of high and low points, as both men try to survive the poverty that befalls them in the Big Apple’s Rat-Race.
In revealing the story of Rizzo and Buck, the Director, John Schlesinger, captures a vivid picture of the two parallel worlds that existed in the New York of the late 1960’s: one of opulent Penthouses and Luxury Hotels on Fifth Avenue and the other of its raw underbelly located on Forty-Second Street- the city’s outlandish skid row full of gays, transvestites and other so called “deviants”. Buck must negotiate both of these environments as he tries to make his way as a male prostitute (he prefers women, but must also offer his services to men out of desperation for money) under Rizzo’s guidance. Due to Buck’s, occupation, “Cowboy” has a number of graphic sex scenes, but this should not cause the viewer to dismiss it as vulgar. Buck’s sexual escapades do not disrupt the film’s rhythm, but, instead, aid in its nuanced exploration of ideas relating to the significance of physical identity, interplay of mainstream and countercultures, coercive impact of advertising, bane of American individualism in trying to confront poverty, and much more. Given its intellectual maturity, this film will be a good renting choice for movie-goers wishing to escape the shallow barage of blockbusters Hollywood has in store for the coming summer.
If you enjoy Dustin Hoffman make sure to see The Graduate (everyone really loves the Simon and Garfunkel soundtrack that accompanies this one) and Tootsie.
Nathan Walker
nwalker02@hamline.edu
