Dandy Cat

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers was written by Albert Hackett, Frances Goodrich, and Dorothy Kingsley and was directed by Stanley Donen. It was released in 1954. The film was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

In 1850, there’s wood to be chopped, dances to be danced, and women to be married. Adam Pontipee, played by Howard Keel, meets local tavern worker Milly, played by Jane Powell. Within hours of meeting and falling for her, Adam asks her to marry him—a proposal which she accepts. Upon returning to Adam’s mountain cabin, Milly is surprised to learn that Adam is the eldest of seven brothers, all living together. Despite her disappointment at not being able to live the married life she had envisioned for herself, she tasks herself with cleaning up her new home and teaching the brothers how to be polite and proper men. These six lovelorn men soon realize that the only way they’ll meet and marry a woman like Milly is if they drop their poor manners and do things her way. At a social gathering in town, they meet six women and try out their new personas on them. The girls take a liking to these brothers, but trouble erupts when their current suitors find out about these new sweethearts.

There’s a shameful hole in my movie-watching past, and it consists almost exclusively of unwatched musicals. I don’t dislike musicals. I just haven’t watched many of them. It’s a damn shame because a great many of them can be counted amongst the best films ever made. Singin’ in the Rain, anyone?¹ My wife, on the other hand, has maybe seen every single musical ever made. Thank goodness she still decided to marry me. I think she saw my musical inexperience as an opportunity to educate me on the finer points of this genre, one of those being this film. Which I loved. Loved a whole lot. Like many musicals, the songs are the main draw here, and there are some serious bangers (as the youths say).² You would do well to check out Bless Yore Beautiful Hide, Goin’ Courtin’, and The Barn Dance. If you’re anything like me, you should go into the film without any notions about it. Its bouncy, tuneful, and vibrant spirit will win you over. If you’ve already seen it, why not give it another watch? You already know how excellent it is. 🎞

The Matrix was written and directed by Lana Wachowski and Lilly Wachowski. It was released in 1999. The film was produced by Warner Bros., Village Roadshow Pictures, Groucho Film Partnership, and Silver Pictures. The artists for the main titles were Harold De Jesus and Marcel Valcarce.

Thomas Anderson, known by his preferred hacking alias “Neo,” played by Keanu Reeves, lives an unsatisfying life and has always suspected that there’s something wrong with the world he lives in. His suspicions are confirmed when he meets Trinity, played by Carrie-Anne Moss. After an unfortunate run-in with a sentient computer program known as Agent Smith, played by Hugo Weaving, she introduces him to a mysterious man named Morpheus, played by Laurence Fishburne. Morpheus explains to him that the world Neo knows is nothing more than a computer simulation, a construct playing out within the minds of comatose humans as they are used as an energy source by intelligent machines. Initially resistant to this staggering revelation, Neo is soon reborn into the real world, a post-apocalyptic hellscape full of human factories and immense dangers. Morpheus believes Neo to be “the One,” a human who is believed to free humankind. Neo must learn what it means to be alive in the real world, and hopefully, live up to what’s prophesied about him.

The titles demonstrate an unusual juxtaposition in the film. The Matrix, with all of its advanced technology, is personified through ancient computer screens. There’s no color besides green. No icons on the screen. No menu bar to be seen anywhere. The vast complexity of this simulation is shown as raindrops of computer characters. The words “The Matrix” are themselves formed from the physical representation of The Matrix: the sickly green on black glow of old computer screens. This feels like an expert melding of the visuals of the film and the complex ideas that drive its story. From moment one, the film gives us a clue as to what is in store for us.

I recall being held in rapt silence while watching this film in the theater when it came out. You knew you were about to watch something special when those characters started falling from the top of the screen. One of the most thrilling sequences in film history follows this opening title: a squad of police officers and three relentless, terrifying Agents surround the building in which Trinity is holed up. She must fight her way out and into safety, or die trying. To this day, it’s still completely effective. Give that scene a watch again. 🎞

Citizen Kane was written by Herman Mankiewicz and Orson Welles and was directed by Orson Welles. It was released in 1941. The film was produced by RKO Radio Pictures and Mercury Productions.

On his deathbed, the elderly Charles Foster Kane, played by Orson Welles, utters one final word before passing: “Rosebud.” Kane, a wealthy newspaper publisher and industrial magnate, has always garnered much attention, so his death is big news. His last word presents a mystery that newsreel producer Jerry Thompson, played by William Alland, is tasked with uncovering. Through interviews with Kane’s friends and associates, more is learned about the history of this prolific and imposing man. His newspaper business, his failed romantic relationships, and the great highs and lows of his life are described by those who knew him. By the end of this tale, there is a greater understanding of the man, but will anyone ever discover the true meaning of the word “Rosebud”?

At this point, there’s probably little to be gained from me waxing on about the importance of this monumental film. The subject matter has been talked to death. The character of Charles Foster Kane, and his clear inspiration in William Randolph Hearst, have been dissected enough. Heck, most everyone probably knows what the heck “Rosebud” is by now.

Instead, what strikes me most about this title card is not the film that follows, but instead the imposing nature of the letters. The words “CITIZEN KANE” take up the entire screen. They’re as large as the film itself, which is to say, larger than life. They tower over the audience in a pompous, arrogant, and self-important manner, as if to reflect the personality that’s central to the film. However, behind that grand façade lies an insecure man who longs for the comforts of his childhood. The letters of the title card might be seen as something of a put-on. A shield that Kane can use to hide behind, all the while wishing that he could recapture his youthful happiness while hiding away from the dread that comes with facing the world he built for himself. The title card personifies a man who is theatrical and legendary for the world, yet diminutive in private.

Also, I’ve really been captured by the first trailer for the film. It’s still unlike anything you’ll ever see. For a film that was released in 1941, it feels far ahead of its time. Considering how unusual the trailer is, it’s probably far ahead of any time. Instead of a tapestry of shots from the film that describe the general plot, we’re treated to a voice-over from Welles himself, narrating aspects of the production and introducing many of its main players. Give this fascinating thing a watch. 🎞

Days of Heaven was written and directed by Terrence Malick. It was released in 1978. The film was produced by Paramount Pictures. The main titles were designed by Dan Perri.

After accidentally killing his supervisor, Bill, played by Richard Gere, flees to Texas with his girlfriend, Abby, played by Brooke Adams, and his younger sister, Linda, played by Linda Manz. The trio become employed as wheat harvesters on a farm owned by a character played by Sam Shepard. Realizing that the farmer’s failing health presents a cruel financial opportunity, Bill and Abby scheme to take his fortune by having her marry the farmer. As they often do, their best-laid plans fall apart when the farmer learns of Bill and Abby’s true relationship.

This film was famed for its beautiful cinematography and that still holds true today. There is some impressive filmmaking happening every year, and yet, Days of Heaven is still a towering presence. The unusual circumstances surrounding its cinematography are equally notable—Néstor Almendros, the film’s cinematographer, was beginning to lose his sight during the production. He had assistants take photographs of scenes and would then examine them with strong lenses. The troubled production ran so over schedule that Almendros had to leave to attend to a prior filmmaking commitment. He tasked Haskell Wexler, a legend in his own right, to finish the film in his stead. What resulted was a moving film that has stuck in my head ever since I first saw it. It’s elegant in the finest sense of the word.

The improvisational filmmaking style that Malick and Almendros developed was frustrating to most of the crew. Damn the lighting setups! Forget about intricately blocked scenes! Call sheets? Who needs ‘em?! This was a most unusual production at the time,¹ but it laid the groundwork for Malick’s style in later films. It’s remarkable to see how formative this film was for him. With it, he developed a style of serendipity. This is on full display in films like The New World and The Tree of Life where the camera is an invisible participant in the actor’s performances, instead of a central fixture. Days of Heaven is notable in itself, but its legacy also continues to reverberate through Malick’s work.

There’s a moving essay written by The Criterion Collection’s staff writer and social media director, Hillary Weston, about Sam Shepard’s quiet, elegiac performance. For anyone who’s ever been moved by the work of this beautiful writer and actor, it’s a lovely read. 🎞