Feel the Paine

There's nothing quite as enjoyable as being forced to watch a good movie for a class. Even while focusing on the cinematography in The Third Man this evening, I couldn't help but truly discover Bernard Lee. You may know him as Sergeant Paine, or perhaps as M in the James Bond films. Watching him this time around was a revelation. Major Calloway (Trevor Howard) doesn't have the one-liners he almost certainly would if the film were more modern. Instead, that job goes to Lee. He is so casual delivering lines like "sounds anti-British" that you don't even get the joke for a minute. His presence also serves the film's greater themes, as he is the only character to be genuinely amusing. His death is the saddest moment in the film. Lee would have been 100 in January, so consider this a late tribute. I was unable to find any scenes online that highlighted Lee, so below you will find The Third Man in its entirety. Amazing thing that internet.

The True Heir

There's been an idea going around. Someone, I'm not sure who, has been talking about how Pirates of the Caribbean is our generation's Raiders of the Lost Ark. My natural contrariness has not allowed me to believe this. Well, that and the fact that I didn't even like the first Pirates. But it wasn't until tonight that I found the true heir to the lofty throne of Indiana Jones.

National Treasure is the sort of movie we've been missing for a while. Of course, it was made in the wake of "The Da Vinci Code" (the book, not the movie), so it was hastily dismissed. However, there is a certain humanity in the film that is lacking in most enterprises of this sort.

This is most prevalent in a chase scene right after Ben Gates (Nicolas Cage) steals the Declaration of Independence (it's really not worth explaining, but if you can go for the Holy Grail in a temple at the bottom of a canyon in Egypt, you should be able to go for this). The chase is centered on the fact that Gates' chief rival, Ian Howe (Sean Bean), has kidnapped Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), presumably with the Declaration. It is, of course, revealed later that the copy of the Declaration that Ian stole was a poster bought at the gift shop. This makes the chase that much more interesting in retrospect. In almost every movie of this sort, the people are never as important as the clue they have. People are kept alive solely for their ability to figure out the next clue. And yet here is a chase, not for the Declaration of Independence, but for Abigail.

Remember that the only reason Indiana Jones kept Marion around was because she had the the headpiece of the Staff of Ra. Ben Gates seems much more interested in the company he keeps than the information they have to give. This humanity extends even to Ian, who loses his closest friend in the last leg of this race. Ian is almost completely rational throughout most of the film. He seems simply driven by a lust for gold. But his hatred and greed reach a new level when seemingly confronted with a dead end. He has lost his friend, and the pain can be seen in Bean's performance, though nobody ever thought to look at it from his perspective.

National Treasure also seems to enjoy role reversals. Riley Poole (Justin Bartha) takes particular pleasure in the fact that for once in his life, he has the answer that Ben can't see. Ian, phenomenally rich at the start of the film, ends up poor and in jail while Ben goes from a moderate life to his own mansion. Probably the most obvious taste for reversals occurs, again, in the final major set piece. As decrepit stairs fall apart, we see Ben start to slip. He is saved by Abigail, but as soon as she pulls him up to safety, it is he who must save her.

What I found to be the most interesting role reversal came from a knowledge of film history. When Ian is finally nabbed outside of the Old North Church, he looks across the street to see Ben waiting in the shadowy doorway of an apartment. Thoughts of Harry Lime came rushing back to me, and I realized the greatest switch possible. With Ian, the criminal willing to do anything to survive, in Holly's shoes, and goody two shoes in the place of Harry. In The Third Man, Harry was ahead of every step Holly took. He knew exactly where to be at any given time. Ian is the same way, able to effectively follow Ben from Washington D.C. to Philadelphia to New York. Ben is able to solve every clue; he is book smart in a way that Ian never could. But he isn't street smart like Ian. He needs Riley to cover him in this regard. And so the tables turn at the end of the film. Ben is finally able to look on at Ian with the street smarts he needs. He has the knowledge, and he is still the good man. He doesn't need to lower himself to the level of a Harry Lime to feel the smug supremacy Harry felt when Holly first saw him. In a sense, the image of Ben in the doorway seems hopeful for humanity. We don't really need to be like Harry Lime to have his charm and street smarts.

National Treasure has a lot going for it. It is much more intelligent than most people give it credit for, and it is still extremely entertaining. It has great set pieces, thoroughly enjoys its movie-ness, and has a wonderfully charismatic leading man (I'm still convinced Nic Cage is one of the best actors of this generation, especially when starring in films like this). If that doesn't sound like Raiders of the Lost Ark, then I don't know what does. So forget Pirates of the Caribbean. National Treasure is where the pure entertainment lies.

Great Cinematic Speeches - The Third Man

In a continuing combined effort with Damian over at Windmills of My Mind, I present the next great cinematic speech, and one which I love over almost every other.

Note: SPOILERS AHEAD. If you haven't seen The Third Man, watch it right now, and then you can read this. The movie is too good to be spoiled. Please go watch the movie. Even if you have seen it before. Watch it again.

I love The Third Man, from Anton Karas' zither score to Robert Krasker's gorgeous cinematography. It is a film that borders on perfect for me, and one of the absolute highlights of the movie is the first real interaction between Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) and Harry Lime (Orson Welles). It's a scene that perfectly captures the interaction between two friends whose friendship has soured.

There are some things worth noting before even considering the dialogue. First, look at the clothing that Holly and Harry wear and how they wear it. Holly wears his overcoat over his arms, severely limiting his motion. Harry wears his overcoat over his jacket, freeing his arms for greater movement. This is indicative of their own abilities to move within society. Harry can do anything he wants because he doesn't have a normal moral compass. He is completely free of the rules placed on people by society. Holly, on the other hand, finds himself bound by his conscience. Note how in the final scene, Holly wears his overcoat over his jacket. He has rid himself of his conscience in killing Harry, so he now wears his overcoat like Harry did.

Second, note how Holly's physical gestures are so much more emphatic than Harry's. Holly shows his feelings for Harry immediately by refusing to embrace him at the amusement park. Then, when on the ferris wheel, Holly grabs at the door when he asks talks about how easy it will be for Harry to get rid of him. Though he talks in a gruff, reserved manner, his fear is apparent through the need to hold onto the door. It's this little touch that reveals so much more about the character of Holly Martins than dialogue can.

The amazing thing about the interaction here is that though Martins stands on the moral high ground, caring about the law and Anna, yet we don't think of him. We think of Harry Lime and cukoo clocks. Harry Lime is extremely verbose and extremely charismatic. His scenes manage to effectively combine the menace in his voice with his moral justification. Audiences remember Harry's thoughts on the dots on the ground, yet his "You never should have gone to the police" goes practically unnoticed. But this piece is about the speech, so let's have it.

The speech is nothing more than an attempt to justify his actions. Unlike a psychopath like Hans Beckert in M (as covered by Damian here), Harry Lime takes responsibility for his actions. He never denies that what he is doing is wrong. However, he attempts to make himself a sympathetic figure by comparing himself to governments. If a government has no scruples, why should a man? His argument is convincing, but it cannot remove the fact that he does create victims. He can try to distance himself from seeing the real impact that he has, but it is an undeniable fact that he is a cancer on society. And so we get this.