The Appeal of the Gangster Film, and My Ten Favorites

Who doesn't love a good gangster film?

From the beginnings of cinema until the present day some of the greatest films ever made have been about gangsters. In this totally pixilated place called "real life" we (unless absent any sense at all) hate criminal gangs. Yet on film we root 'em on like they were the dear old home team. Anyone knuckle-headed enough to cheer on the cops in a gangster film has no sense of fun or imagination.

So what's the appeal of the genre, I ask myself in order to continue with the essay.  There are several things at work. One is that gangsters are not bound by laws or any other strictures of society. While us law abiding types are confined by criminal codes, ethics, morals, rules and restrictions, gangsters do whatever the hell they want. That's the way to live! And we thus live vicariously through these gun toting mobsters. Yet a mobster does answer to certain set of codes, but principally within the gang itself and to his brother criminal. We can all get behind such latter day chivalry.

So there's that but there's also the violence.  If neither over done nor gratuitous (the two go hand in hand), cinematic violence is compelling theater, so to speak. Films in general make use of violence as a story telling tool because it is so vivid and visceral. (And I for one do not for a second cotton to the notion that on screen violence plays any role in creating "real life" violence. Violent criminal gang activity was rampant in urban America throughout the latter half of the 19th century and cinema was not yet part of popular culture.) In some respects, the enjoyment or at least acceptance of screen violence in gangster films relates to my previous point about living vicariously. Many of us, as peace loving as we may be, have had deep seated fantasies about socking someone in the jaw, opening fire on our enemies or intimidating foe and bystander alike with the threat of injury or death. Gangsters on film can satisfy these primal urges for us.

A third and often overlooked appeal of the gangster genre is its appeal to our natural instincts as tribal animals. Humans, like dogs and unlike cats, are pack animals. We like to be a part of. Be it athletic teams, clubs, families, religious groups, armies, unions, fraternal organizations, most people long to be among like minded fellow humans, usually with a unifying purpose. Gangster films are all about male bonding. Sometimes in organized gangs, sometimes in crime families and usually in a combination thereof. We enjoy watching people work cooperatively toward a common goal, sharing hopes fears and dreams. Never mind that these groups are sometimes comprised largely of psychopaths. Related to this is an aspect common to virtually every family, gang or other organization: the boss. Most of us like a good leader, be this the head of the family, the coach, the pastor, the general, the president or the chief. There's nothing more satisfying then being led by and feeling watched over by a good leader. Unless its perhaps actually being that leader.


I now offer to you a list of ten American gangster films. All of which meet the following criteria: they're great films; they feature a family, organized gang or both; include violence but are never gratuitous; and have a leader or leaders. On the one hand coming up with ten was easy, on the other, confining it to ten, not so easy. You may feel compelled to rant and rave about the glaring omission of a favorite gangster film, but remember that this list, like any such endeavor, is bound to reflect the biases and tastes of the author.

Family Affair The Godfather (1972). People love this film, nobody more than I do. Like all great films of the genre it's about much more than crimes and criminals. The Godfather is about family and the transformation of one young man. The violence, particularly at the end of the film, is mostly operatic and not meant to convey the reality of dying by the gun, but to represent the means by which individuals can sacrifice their own decency to achieve their ends. First Marlon Brando as Vito, then Al Pacino as Michael, serve as the head of the Corleone family, the titular Godfather of a criminal enterprise. We see one established in his role, beloved and feared, and watch how another grows into it. From director Francis Ford Coppola.

What Price Anarchy? Goodfellas (1990). This Martin Scorsese film is rich with energy and verve, simultaneously romanticizing and demystifying the life of gangsters. From the narration of Ray Liotta as the real life Henry Hill we hear of the allure of the gangster life, how the rest of us are suckers in our nine to five jobs while gangsters boldly take what they want. But we also see the terrible price paid for choosing such a path. We revel with gangsters in the close bonds they form with one another, while then watching the cost of a single misstep. There is violence aplenty as there needs to be in telling such a story.

Family Ties The Godfather Part II. This necessary follow up to the original, continues the story while also providing the amazing backstory. We see how Vito started his rise and the terrible consequences of such a life to Michael as even fratricide becomes a viable option. Like the first film, Part 2 is about much more than breaking the law. Relationships are part and parcel to most films and they're dealt with in all their complexity and in various forms in this epic. Brothers. Husbands and wives. Business associates. Rivals. All of these and more. Of course brutal violence is often what's used to settle differences. There's no sentimentalizing in Godfather Part 2, indeed there are no trite nor obvious solutions offered. Just cause they're gangsters doesn't mean they can't make you think.

Not Your Typical Mama's Boy White Heat (1949). This is a James Cagney show through and through. He's the not all together popular leader of a gang. There's one of the proverbial rubs of gang life. You may be sitting in the catbird seat as the leader but its always possible someone wants your spot. Cagney's Cody Jarrett has to deal with this, along with the law and those fiercesome headaches. This is one nuanced character, especially for gangster film, for Cody's gang includes his dear ole ma who he's quite attached to. Like all the other films on this list, and many other good gangster films, White Heat is wildly entertaining and features a grand performance by its star. In fact, Cagney as Jarrett is as good a cinematic portrayal as you'll see of gangster.

The Penitent Man Mean Streets (1973). Harvey Keitel's Charlie is a good Catholic, or at least as good as you can be when you're consorting with and abetting lawbreakers. Oh yes and participating too. The film's tagline is: "You don't make up for your sins in church, you do it in the streets." Clearly we have a man with a conscience. Yes, clearly some crooks have one. In addition to Charlie there is the goofy and dangerous Johnny Boy (Robert DeNiro) who errs badly in not playing by the rules. That is those rules by which gangs govern themselves. Want to break society's laws? Knock yourself out. But within the criminal family you better walk the line. Mean Streets does not romanticize violence or "the life." Even the drunkenness is reeling, staggering and dizzy. So here again we see the wages of sin, whether you've been going to church or not.

Like a Candle in a Hurricane The Public Enemy (1931). Cagney again, this time as Tom Powers a young man who rises from being a two bit crook to running his own show. You can guess how this is going end up for our protagonist. Hollywood tends to want its criminals to get what's coming to them. Powers is a force of nature, as were many a Cagney character. His physicality has never been more impressive than in this mannered and interesting young man. Whether plugging an old enemy or stuffing a grapefruit in a soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend's puss. This is the classic charismatic gang boss and a movie that greatly influenced the genre. It's use of off camera violence by director William Wellman is especially effective.


Very Radical Couples Therapy Bonnie and Clyde (1967). One of the most influential films ever made in part for the manner in which it introduced more realistic violence to cinema. Contrary to Public Enemy the violence was in your face. Different strokes for different movies. Here we have a totally compelling re-imagining of the true life escapades of the real life Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, who along with Clyde's brother and sister-in-law became bank robbing folk heroes during the Great Depression. It is virtuoso story telling of the first order from director Arthur Penn, effectively employing music, humor and an innovative camera.


The Classic Rise and Fall The Roaring Twenties (1939). It shouldn't be a surprise that Cagney appears on this list three times. He appeared in a lot of gangster films and was personally responsible for their success. This is a classic rags-to-riches gangster story with Cagney as Eddie Bartlett. He's the type of crook whose fallen into his line of work by circumstances, then makes the most of it. Humphrey Bogart is an associate who turns on our hero. Like many a gangster we feel for Eddie, certainly next to Bogie's character he's the lesser of two evils We ache as the girl of his dreams (Priscilla Lane) finds love in another's arms. Gangsters can buy a lot with their ill gotten gain, but even they are incapable of purchasing love.

I Smell a Rat Donnie Brasco (1997). Johnny Depp is the title character in the amazing story of a cop who goes under very deep cover and infiltrates the mob. He even gets to see a mob victim sliced up for easy disposal and difficult detection. But most of all this is a look at the totally unglamorous working class mobster who has to hustle for every dime with death an every present danger. Al Pacino gives one of the best performances of his remarkable career as a sort of middle class mobster. Michael Madsen is at once alluring and terrifying as the boss. But it is through Depp that we see the seamy underbelly of the underside of the underworld. We are not underwhelmed.


Johnny Rocco's a Skunk Key Largo (1948). Edward G Robinson played some pretty rotten eggs but perhaps none were worse than Johnny Rocco. What awful things is he whispering into his lovely hostage's (Lauren Bacall) ear? Makes your skin crawl to think of it. I included Key Largo because in addition to being such a wonderful film, Robinson plays Rocco like the dirty stinking rat that arguably all gangsters should be shown to be.  He's also the classic gangster in that he's fully in charge and rightly feared, unwavering in his commitment to do whatever is needed for his own survival and success. Bogie shows up here too, this time as a good guy out to foil Rocco's evil doings.

Others to consider: Little Caesar (1931), Scarface (1932), Brother Orchid (1940), Reservoir Dogs (1992), Johnny Eager (1941), Gangs of New York (2002).

He Didn't Steal Scenes, He WAS Scenes, James Cagney in White Heat

He kicks a guy that he just shot down the stairs and yells "catch!" Someone he's locked in a trunk complains about lack of air. So he shoots holes into the truck and perforce it's occupant. He's a riot! (Assuming you don't object to homicidal maniacs.)

He's also prone to sudden and devastating headaches that render him immobile and panting in pain. Oh yes, he's a momma's boy. He's Cody Jarrett. A real sunavabitch.

"You wouldn't kill me in cold blood, wouldja?" He's asked.
"Not, I'll let ya warm up a little," Jarrett replies. Beautiful.

White Heat (1949) is not a movie starring James Cagney. It's a James Cagney performance with a movie surrounding it. Virginia Mayo as his cheating wife is just about perfect for the part and Margaret Wycherly as Ma couldn't be better. Edmond O'Brien is along to play an undercover cop and he's about what you'd want. The rest of the cast read their lines as guys playing cops or gangsters are supposed to do and then get the hell out of the way. This is a Cagney production all the way. Director Raoul Walsh probably realized from the get go.

Yes, Cagney has boffo lines and action scenes aplenty and lots of chances to emote, but that's not what makes him and thus the film so wonderful. Cagney plays Jarrett as a living breathing human being with a face that conveys the life inside.

He purses his lips. Squints. Arches an eyebrow. Winks. Furrows his brow. And then there's that voice....Your typical cops and robbers in this film speak in flat, uninteresting tones. Serviceable is all. Jarrett has a voice you can hang your coat on. It's rich, expressive and like the character, compelling.

When he confronts his wayward wife after busting out of the can, Jarret gets a hold of her head (just as he's had a hold of ours the whole film) and seems to be on the verge of biting hers, speaking rapid fire with his teeth flaring. Goodness he's frightening and utterly captivating at the same time. That's a sociopath all right.

Watch Jarrett's reaction to finding out that O'Brien, who in his own words, he's "treated like a kid brother" is "a copper." How about a nice stew of anger, amazement, surprise and yes, humor. Doesn't sound like it all works together? This is Cagney doing the cooking brudder, it works!

In White Heat James Cagney demonstrates what you get when a performer combines the charisma of a star with the talent of an accomplished thespian. There are but a precious few who have ever boasted the combination. The list is short and includes people like Brando, Pacino, Bette Davis and Elizabeth Taylor. And Cagney, of course

As Cody Jarrett, Cagney didn't act. He created a person and inhabited him. Yes he played broad scenes magnificently as when he discovers that Ma is dead. But more than that he's just damn interesting to watch in the simplest of moments. And I doubt very much of it was conscious. That's the thing, it comes off so natural. Just telling the truth, as Cagney himself said of acting. It means knowing and being true to the person that is your character.

This is quite a character. The murderous head of a gang who by virtue of loving Ma so much and being subject to spells, is also extremely vulnerable. It's a rich role for any actor but to keep it from slipping into cliche or burlesque and then giving real depth can only be accomplished by the likes of Cagney.

How would White Heat be without Cagney. Gee, I don't know. How would baseball be without the ball?

Movies For Those Long Summer Evenings

Would I actually suggest that a person spend part of a lovely Summer day sitting at home watching a DVD? You better believe I would. For one thing you may be living in some God forsaken place where its too bloody hot to do anything but sit inside. But even if that's not the case and you're one of those outdoor types (hmm, the outdoors, isn't that where some movie scenes are filmed?) you've got to come inside eventually.

I'd imagined you'd can get plum tuckered out climbing hills, frolicking in the surf or puttering around in your garden. Let's say its dusk and you're ready to stretch out on the sofa. Perhaps you don't have to rise early the next day and fancy a movie that you can settle into. It would be my great pleasure to offer some suggestions. All of the following choices offer two things: a top quality viewing experience and length. Also, none are depressing or require taxing your cerebrum any more than you want to. And for my money you can watch them in the middle of a gorgeous day if you want to.

Chillin' With the Corleones Either The Godfather (1972) or The Godfather Part 2 (1974) will do. In fact make them back-to-back choices over the course of a weekend, just don't go overboard and watch the third Godfather film which is to the first two as Hoboken is to Paris and Rome. The original remains to me the greatest film of all time and part two the greatest ever sequel. One can watch them in a variety of ways such as exploring the tragic transformation of Michael Corleone or as a parable for modern times. For purposes of this discussion, however, they are best viewed for the sheer fun of their look, their performances, the characters and the scope of the story.

Lean On Me British director David Lean created two of the greatest epics on film, Bridge on the River Kwai (1957) and Lawrence of Arabia (1962). If you're in the mood for a World War II  film set in the Eastern theater of operations and especially if you like a little POW action, Bridge is an excellent choice. It's a sprawling, audacious story with characters to match played wonderfully by the likes of Alec Guiness, William Holden and Sessue Hayakawa. If, however, you'd like to spend some time in the desert, maybe with Peter O'Toole and Omar Sharif, Lawrence is the way to go. Plenty of action and well defined, compelling characters here too. Either way you are going to see the textbook definition of classic cinema.

Indy Films In this instance Indy refers to Indiana Jones the hero of four films. Stick to the even numbered ones, two and four are best avoided. But Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), the first in the series, and number three, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) are pure pop corn munching delights. These are much, much imitated films but their brilliance has rarely been approached and never equaled, let alone topped. These are rollicking adventures with comic book style bad guys, a charismatic hero (Harrison Ford with Sean Connery thrown into the Last Crusade as his dad) and superbly done scenes of derring do and disaster avoided just in the nick of time. Most films that are designed to be pure fun are pure shlock. Good action adventure is clearly not easy to do. Great action adventure is pretty much just these two films.

Fun With Fellini You want long, you want fun, you want excpetional and you want Italian. Look no further than Federecio Fellini classics La Dolce Vita (1960), 8 1/2 (1963) or Amarcord (1973). Three choices and each is, in my mind, better than the next. Like all other films on the list they are long and like the others you wouldn't have them a second shorter. Fellini had a lot to say and by God wasn't waste time being concise. Editing is so very time consuming and when you've put such beautiful films on celluloid as these, why bother? The first two offer the benefits of Marcello Mastrionni and a bevy of beauties. Amacord is my favorite though, a moving but unsentimental look at the great Italian director's hometown around the time he was growing up. All are, needless to say but I'm saying it anyway, Felliniesque, which means a melding of reality and fantasy and plenty of extraordinary characters.

Great Escapism Something about The Great Escape (1963) makes it seem the perfect Summer movie. A cast that includes Steve McQueen, James Garner, James Coburn and David McCullum  may have something to do with it. Also you've got Nazis, not the Schindler's List kind who shoot people in the head but also not the To Be or Not to Be who are total buffoons. In other words Nazis that are just right -- at least for the action genre. Add to this a mass escape which includes the coolest motorcycle chase you'll ever see (at the foot of the Alps, no less) and you're in for some serious fun. This is the best of the umpteen World War II films that Hollywood cranked out during the Baby Boom years.

Kickin' it with Kubrick For hours of visual mastery you can't do better than either 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) or Barry Lyndon (1975) two outsized classics from director Stanley Kubrick. I discussed 2001 in a recent post and Barry Lyndon in my preceding post, saying as much as I had to offer about both at the time. I will here add that both are great Summer films because you can watch them just for the look if you so desire, worrying very little about plot or themes.

Happy 100th Akira Why not celebrate the 100th anniversary of the birth of the great Japanese director Akira Kurosawa with a viewing of his masterpiece, The Seven Samurai (1954)?  This was one of many epic length Kurosawa films and clearly the best of the lot. It is also one of the most imitated films of all time, particularly of the action genre. Seven samurai are recruited by the poor but plucky residents of a small village to fend off a large group of bandits who are terrorizing their town. The ensuing violence is not terribly graphic but it is not silly, contrived or gratuitous. It is what I'd call realistically balletic. Warning: Watching Seven Samuarai may lead you to explore many, many more Kurosawa films.

Better Know A Movie, Recommendations on Specific Aspects of Films to Appreciate

Step right up my friends I have right here for you absolutely free of charge some movie suggestions!

Now any schmuck with a film blog can recommend film choices, but I'm not just any schmuck (like I need to tell you!). I have for you a list of ten films that includes specific aspects of that film to look for.

Usually we enjoy a film, especially with our initial viewing, for its overall presentation. The cast, the photography, the sets, the editing, all blend into a pleasurable viewing experience. This is a good thing. But sometimes we miss a majestic tree or two in seeing the overall forest.

Here then are some tips on what to look for in ten well-known films representing different eras and genres.

The shadows in The Maltese Falcon (1941). Director John Huston was reportedly apoplectic when he heard that Ted Turner wanted to colorize this film.(The fact that Huston died shortly thereafter is apparently unrelated, but ya never know.) Good film noir has to be in black and white because so much of the stories rely on shadows. Maltese Falcon is a prime example. Look at how often they appear and how effectively mood and ambience is set and exploited. MF is one of the many films that points to the beauty of black and white and why in many, many movies its a better choice than color. Try not to focus too much on stars Humphrey Bogart or Mary Astor or the wonderful supporting cast, and just dig the look.

Edward G. Robinson in Double Indemnity (1944). The man put on an acting clinic and disproved any notion that he was only suited to play gangsters. He is at once so real a man and utterly ordinary and so compelling a character. He manages to elevate the film, enhance the story and yet not steal any scenes. He's easy to miss the first time or two you watch the film, but the more you see of it the more you appreciate Robinson and his importance to the film.

The backgrounds in The Third Man (1949). I love the dialogue and the zither music but I could literally watch The Third Man with the sound off. In fact, that might be a worthy exercise just to appreciate what's in the background. You'll not only see some incredible shots of bombed out Vienna, but the faces of the Viennese. They generally aren't pretty faces but really that wouldn't fit with the story and they're captivating to look at nonetheless.

The period detail in Zodiac (2007). The film was set in San Francisco in the late 1960's and 1970's, a time I was in the area. So I can say with a measure of authority that director David Fincher and company got the look to a tee. More than that they got the feel. It's one thing to replicate, quite another to capture. This is capturing. How one does that is beyond my limited knowledge of film making. All I can tell you is that if you want to know what it was like in these parts in them days, watch this film.

The interiors and exteriors of Stagecoach (1939). Any question about what made John Ford a great director can in part be answered by Stagecoach. Look at how he tells the story in great part by opening up the outdoors and making them impossibly vast (look at the screen entrance of The Ringo Kid -- John Wayne -- the background is forever). Then see how confining all the indoor shots are, particularly, of course, in the stagecoach. When you appreciate how a director tells a story, you better appreciate the story.

The transformation of Michael Corleone in The Godfather (1972). I devoted an entire blog post to this topic. It's provided some interesting discussions and is worth looking at again because its the central point to this, the greatest of all films. You can have fun discussing what you think is the catalyst for his change and of course, watching those key moments. It will also help you appreciate what a magnificent performance Al Pacino gave.

The camera angles and positions in Notorious (1946). Here's another topic I've previously covered in an entire blog post. There are many other Hitchcock films you can choose from but in terms of looking for how he used the camera to tell a story, this is the best.

The relationships in All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). It's perhaps the greatest anti war picture ever made and it works in large part because of how wonderfully it depicts human relationships. In the military, whether for the better or for the worse, relationships are critical. People are stuck together and often put into the horrifying spectacle of war together. That is to say the insane situation of killing other people. AQOTWF is all about how soldiers squabble, bond, play and fight together. How they rely on one another and love one another. It is thus all the more effectively heart breaking when many inevtiably perish.

The use of music in Goodfellas (1990). Director Martin Scorsese is the grandmaster of melding music into a story. In some cases he has the song in mind before he's even got the film in mind. He's especially effective with contemporary songs. Sometimes the song relates to the time period in the film, other times the lyrics accompany the action. But more often than not the tone of the music somehow just goes with the tone of the pictures. It has to be an instinct and it has to be done by the person with the vision of that story. To me Goodfellas is the absolute masterpiece of music working perfectly with what's on screen. Whether it's Tony Bennett, The Shangri-Las, Harry Nilsson or Sid Vicious, it works. Boy does it.

The timing in Sullivan's Travels (1941). Comedy is all about timing. Especially when it comes to dialogue. When you've got a particularly witty story with some sophisticated points to make, that timing is absolutely crucial. Witness the timing in Sullivan's Travels. Start with the first scene between Sullivan (Joel McCrea) and the movie execs. It's not just rapid fire, it's not just clever, it's perfectly timed. See Sullivan and the girl (Veronica Lake) or Sullivan and anyone else or any two or three or twelve people. Director Preston Sturges, who started as a screenwriter, was a master of timing, both with action and conversation. He was especially adept at combining the two, and with multiple characters. Just watch Sullivan's Travels and you'll know what I'm on about.

Depp Does Dillinger Delightfully

Saw Public Enemies today, Michael Mann's new film about famed gangster John Dillinger.

I'd been intrigued by the movie when I first heard about it, having read the book by Bryan Burrough upon which it is based. I'm also a connoisseur of gangster films ,Hollywood having produced so damn many good ones. Lastly the casting of Johnny Depp as Dillinger was inspired. Depp was born for the role. He's facially a bit softer looking, but like Leo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes in The Aviator (2004), needed neither gobs of make up nor the vivid imagination of audiences to play the historical figure. It was clear from the previews that Depp had the Dillinger posture and smirk down, leaving the rest up to director Mann.

Christian Bale was just fine as Melvin Purivs and Billy Crudup was a perfect 30 year old J Edgar Hoover. Marion Cotillard, not seen since her Oscar winning turn as Edith Piaf on La Vie en Rose (2007) seemed a risky choice to play Dillinger's moll Billie Frechette. But she was wonderful and hopefully we'll be seeing much much more of her in years to come.

Mann makes technically perfect films, See Heat (1995), Ali (2001), Collateral (2004) and The Last of the Mohicans (1992) as examples. He scrupulously avoids anachronisms. Mann's attention to detail is unmatched (that is not to say there aren't those who'll find some "goofs" for IMDb, but they are relatively few). Mann's recreation of the early 1930's Midwest is uncanny. Students of the era will love it.

It's useful to compare Public Enemies to a couple of earlier films on Depression Era gangsters. Brian De Palma played much looser with the facts in The Untouchables (1987) going so far as to have Elliott Ness toss Frank Nitti off a roof. He allowed a bloated performance by Robert DeNiro as Al Capone, which was closer to vamping than acting. Worse he tried to pay homage to Battleship Potemkin's (1925) famous baby carriage scene and as a consequence merely drew attention to himself and away from the film. The Untouchables was initially entertaining but grows tiresome with increased viewings. I suspect Pubic Enemies may well improve with age. It is a visual smorgasbord without hammy performances or unneeded directorial flourishes to interfere with it.

Bonnie & Clyde (1967) also played fast and loose with the truth of the events it depicted but did so in the service of creating a ground breaking cinematic experience. Bonnie & Clyde, like Public Enemies, was about some Depression Era Robin Hoods who robbed from banks, not never from plain folks. But Bonnie & Clyde was much as much about the time of its release as it was about the depression. It spoke to contemporary audiences who were in the midst of a cultural revolution. Bonnie & Clyde was wildly eccentric characters and Flatt & Scruggs driven car chases. Public Enemies is much more about the destinations than the journeys. Yet its not meditative, it has too much to tell to stop and think about it.

Mann does not mythologize Dillinger. Yes, we see that Dilligner was all about beating the establishment (for the sake of their money) and wouldn't hurt a poor person's fly. But though charismatic, he was not by any means a man of either deep or particularly interesting character. The guy was cool and sexy but still a thief.

Dilligner and Frichette's relationship is just about two people fatalistically clinging to one another with the specter of death or prison hanging over them. It's not presented as a great screen romance nor should it have been. To make a romance out of Public Enemies would have trivialized its truths.

As a matter of fact Public Enemies is pretty straight forward story telling. This is a speciality of Mann's. He doesn't tend to make great films (except for Heat, which is a masterpiece) but they're pretty much all very, very good. Public Enemies is the type of picture the Oscars can get so wrong be either totally ignoring it or lavishing it with far too many statuettes.

It's always a challenge to tell a story that has an ending that most audience members know full well. Mann does a masterful job, particularly with how he shows Dillinger watching Manhattan Melodrama (1934), the movie he'd just seen before being gunned down by the law. It starred Clark Gable as a gangster, William Powell as the D.A. and Myrna Loy as the woman they love. I've found it interesting to watch the film wondering what Dillinger thought as he watched it and what an interesting thing it is that this of all films is what he saw in his last hours. In it Gable nobly gives himself up to save his childhood chum the D.A. and willingly goes to the electric chair. He's a tough egg all right, but one with a big heart. What must Dillinger have thought!

Quite obviously Mann has thought about the strange juxtaposition of Manhattan Melodrama and Dillinger's imminent death. The manner in which we view Dillinger watch the movie and the scenes from it Mann shows is fascinating.

It's easy to look at a film like Public Enemies and wonder how it could have been elevated to greatness. But I think it far more useful to look at a film like Public Enemies and enjoy it for what it is -- a damn good movie.

Those Who Cannot Remember the Past Are Missing Out

I suppose for a lot of people anything that happened before their lifetime doesn't really matter. I came across two examples of this today, the second of which I'll address at length.

In the first instance Sports Illustrated's online edition had a list of the ten most memorable moments at the Wimbledon tennis championships. Wimbledon has held its tennis championships since the 1880's, yet Sports Illustrated is apparently of the opinion that nothing memorable happened until 1970. Evidently those first 80 years were pretty tedious.

The second list appeared in today's local rag, the San Francisco Chronicle and offered the 10 Best Screen Mobsters. Every single film gangster that this writer deems worthy of mention appeared in a film released in or after 192.. The same is true of the six runners up he offers. Evidently the author has heard of neither DVDs nor Turner Classic Movies.

This poor bloke has missed out on some stunning James Cagney performances. How else to explain his omissions of Cagney as Cody Jarrett in White Heat (1949) or Tom Powers in The Public Enemy (1931)? He might also have considered Cagney as Rocky Sullivan in Angels with Dirty Faces (1938) or as Eddie Bartlett in The Roaring Twenties (1939).

He's also evidently unaware of a certain fellow by the name of Bogart, Humphrey. He's thus been deprived of seeing such gangsters as Duke Manttee in Petrified Forest (1936), Roy Earle in High Sierra (1941), Bugs Fenner in Ballots or Bullets (1936) to name but a few.

Then there's Edward G. Robinson who played some pretty nasty gangsters himself. Because Eddie G had the bad luck to be born in 1893 and thus had a film career that was all but over by 1972, the author missed him playing Rico in Little Caesar (1931) (photo above), Johnny Sarto in Brother Orchid (1940) and Johnny Rocco in Key Largo (1948).

Am I making myself clear?

Here's the deal, I've named 10 gangsters using just three actors. You want me to name another ten from before 1970 using different actors? Go head and dare me.

No one who believes that the dawn of mankind was in 1970 should be taken seriously. Motion pictures have been entertaining us for about 100 years. To to make a list that purports to have the best of something yet totally ignores the first 60 years of that something's existence deserves nothing but contempt. And the same goes for SI's silly list which pretends that tennis legends like Don Budge, Althea Gibson and Bill Tilden didn't exist or that any match they were in had to be a yawner.

As someone who taught young people for 20 years I'm all too aware of the how little respect recent generations have had for the past. We need not only remember our political history but our social and cultural pasts as well. You want to fully understand and appreciate a sport, music, paintings, film or anything else, recognize if not study its past. I'll spare you a long winded spiel on how the past shapes the present because I'm hoping you know that. But before I step down from my soapbox I'll say that if a person makes an individual decision to enjoy only gifts from the present or very recent past that's their business and their loss. But to publicly ignore those blessings is an affront and needs to be called out.

"History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity." - Cicero.

The Rise and Fall of Eddie Bartlett

Imagine a World War I veteran just back from the front, his name is Eddie Bartlett. He goes to the garage where he'd been employed before the war seeking his old job back. Sorry, he's told, I can't very well let go the guy who took your place. Eddie knows the boss has a point. Still, he'd counted on the job. Had planned to save his money and some day have a a garage of his own.

Undaunted, Eddie seeks employment elsewhere. Surely there's a job somewhere, especially for someone who fought for his country. But no, there isn't. Eddie's not the only one looking for a job. Finally he accepts his best friend's offer to share a cab. Eddie will be a hack. No shame there.

Then one day fate intercedes in Eddie's life in a most unexpected way. A fare asks him to pass along a package. With a few bucks at stake, Eddie doesn't hesitate to run the simple errand. Unbeknownest to Eddie the package is liquor and conveying it in the time of prohibition is a federal offense. Cops apprehend Eddie. Before a judge he refuses to implicate the woman, Panama Smith, to whom he was delivering the booze. Eddie is found guilty and since he cannot pay the fine must go to prison. But the grateful Panama pays his fine and takes Eddie into her business: the production and distribution of liquor. It's an ironic twist for Eddie, who's a confirmed teetotaler.

Eddie Bartlett, who just wanted to realize the American dream through hard work, is now involved in a criminal enterprise. He is, by definition, a crook. Moreover, he's about to rise to the top of his new found profession.

I've just summarized the beginning of The Roaring Twenties (1939), directed by Raoul Walsh and starring James Cagney as Eddie. It is the story of a perfectly ordinary, decent man who is swept by circumstances to the leadership of a criminal empire. Eddie's descent will be as fast as was his rise.

Cagney was no stranger to playing gangsters. He was Tom Powers in Public Enemy (1931), Cody Jarrett in White Heat (1949), and Rocky Sullivan Angels with Dirty Faces (1938). But Eddie Bartlett was different. He stumbled into the criminal world. He did not choose crime, crime choose him. Oh sure, Eddie had free will. He had opportunity to stop, turn around and return to the straight and narrow. But how easy is that to say from afar? He'd made an honest effort and all it got him was a jail term -- talk about ironic!

Eddie did not just gain money by going into crime. Don't sell him short like that. He got power. Eddie was in control of his own destiny, or it certainly seemed that way. After all power is what we all want. At least power over our own lives. It's the whole point of wealth. To be in a state of poverty is to be powerless. To be rich is to be able to do whatever the heck you want.

Also, Eddie was doing something with his life. Most people in their prime don't want meaningless jobs performing rote tasks. As "the boss" Eddie was organizing liquor production and sales. He was stealing hijacking, making deals and overseeing employees. That's pretty intoxicating (no pun intended.) Eddie wasn't just a participant in life, he was a controller.

All of this has really been an exercise to help answer a question I had: why do I love The Roaring Twenties so much? Cagney is wonderful in every film I've seen him and though not as demanding a role as some, like White Heat, he's especially good in this movie. His unrequited love for Jean Sherman (the lovely Priscilla Lane) is touching as is Panama's (played by Gladys George) unrequited love for him. Humphrey Bogart is along for the ride as George Hally an army buddy, business rival, partner ,and business rival again. it was one of the last films in which Bogie played second fiddle to anyone. Jeffrey Lynn is the third of the trio in the foxhole "over there" and he ends up being Eddie' lawyer, Jean's successful romantic pursuer and Hally's ultimate target. So it's a great cast but Cagney as eddie is the real draw. There is such a strong sense of decency and honesty to him that you root Eddie on every time. Not just because he's the central character, but because he deserved better from the get go.

The Roaring Twenties was based on real events. I know, what movie isn't? But it really does have a slice of history feel to it which is enhanced by the newsreel style narration of John Deering and the occasional use of actual footage.

It's a film I've long loved. Those who claim that 1939 was the greatest year for Hollywood films are wise to use it as an example. Walsh was an expert story teller and he had a great story to tell. Yes its about the crime that was prohibition and the crimes that prohibition spawned. But it's more that than. it's about how people on one track in life suddenly find themselves on another. Happens all the time. When Cagney plays the guy its happening to, you've got a helluva movie.

God Granted Him the Serenity...

According to Merriam-Webster Online, anxiety is: "painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind usually over an impending or anticipated ill b: fearful concern or interest." The living embodiment of an antonym would be the young Vito Corleone as portrayed by Robert DeNiro in Godfather Part II.

You'd be hard pressed to find a film character less concerned about events outside of his control or more sure of his own ability to handle what may. Here is someone who truly practices the Serenity Prayer that is so integral a part of 12 step programs:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

When he loses his job at the grocery store because the Don wants his nephew to work there, Vito is non plussed. He won't hear of any apologies from his now former employer and won't even accept free groceries as partial restitution. Later, when he himself is the local Don, he gladly accepts free produce. Charity no, tribute yes.

He's supplanted the Don by simply and quite coolly killing the man. After firing the fatal shots, Vito disassembles the pistol and gets rid if it and all other evidence. In the parlance of young people today: no worries. There's no hint of trepidation because Vito is acting of his own accord and he's totally self possessed.

This is a man in total control. When one of his babies is sick he watches, clearly concerned, but not engaging in any histrionics. It is out of his hands and Vito knows it. Killing the Don was another matter, that was within his power.

In Godfather Part II scenes of the young Vito are interspersed with scenes of his youngest son Michael, some 40 years later. Unlike older brothers Santino and Fredo, Michael is neither emotional nor weak. He takes after Dad. Yes, his temper can explode, but he's always in control and never, as Sonny fatefully does, acts on it. I dedicated a post to Michael's frigid persona last summer after viewing the film. Upon watching the movie again yesterday I was struck by the similarities between Michael and his father.

Neither are killers with a blood lust. Both will pull the trigger if the situation calls for it. Both value family above all else (though Michael will take the ultimate step with even the closest relative, if betrayed) and both are utterly implacable. Watch his reaction when refused a favor by a slumlord. No anger, certainly no pleading. Vito merely suggests the man ask about him. Of course, the poor sap finds out that Vito is no one to mess with and willingly complies with Vito's request.

The scenes of the young Vito are some if not the best in all of cinema. Director Francis Ford Coppola so faithfully recreated Ellis Island, tenements and New York City streets that viewers feel they must be watching actual footage. These are meticulous established scenes, exquisitely photographed and perfect in each detail. At the center of it is DeNiro's Vito. He's an indelible film character for the manner in which he stays within scenes and never emotes beyond them, he is of the setting.

DeNiro had the sense to relax and let the scenery do the acting. His brilliance was to let Coppola star in the scenes while he inhabited them.

We watch a young man seemingly riding the waves of his times, satisfied with accepting his lot. Job lost? Fine. Asked to hold some guns? Why not. Help steal a rug? Sure. But this is a man biding his time, ready to seize opportunities, waiting for his chance. It comes. He seizes it.

The young Vito is true to the principles of the serenity prayer. One can see the unwavering commitment to take care of those matters he can. Vito is purposeful. One can see the acceptance of those event in the hands of God. Vito does not tilt at windmills. Vito is smart --and this is the key -- he can see when to move and when to let things happen.

What a power! Whether used for good or evil. For self or community. Those who possess the strengths inherent in understanding the serenity prayer are to be reckoned with and admired. No, Vito would not be aware of such a prayer, but he sure lived it.

Crime May Not Pay But it Can Be A Blast

*Super Spoiler Alert*

Dying in a hail of bullets. In reality it would doubtless be a gruesome way to go. In films it can be positively romantic. Especially if your demise comes at the end of the film and you've had one helluva fun ride along the way.

If you haven't seen Bonnie and Clyde (1967), Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) or The Wild Bunch (1969), avert your eyes. Better yet, click out of this window and watch whichever of these outstanding movies you missed. Thank me later.

Released within two years of one another, all three depicted robbers cum killers living and loving to the fullest until death does them part from this world. Their similarities, like their popularity, were no accident. Western culture was transforming in the late 1960's and rebellion was in. Of course none of this troika depicted rebellion but their anti establishment sensibilities were pretty clear.

Bonnie & Clyde came along first. Here were a duo whose unconventionality even tinged their love making, or the curious lack thereof. They also teamed up with three unlikely compadres. Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway as the title characters were every bit the beautiful and charismatic leading couple audiences wanted (and then some). But their designated driver C.W. Moss, played by the ever eccentric Michael J. Pollard, took the notion of what a gangster looked and acted like and turned it upside down. Pug nosed, quirky, imps who sobbed after nearly botching a getaway were something new for a new time. Along with Gene Hackman as Clyde's brother Buck, there was the hysterical sister-in-law Blanche. A role that garnered Estelle Parsons an Oscar. While the Barrow gang's two leaders were classic gorgeous Hollywood anti heroes, the rest of the quintet seemed like people we might run into at the grocery store. Their fates were sad, yet ordinary, a sharp contrast to the blaze of glory with which Bonnie and Clyde shuffled off this mortal coil. Grand fates were reserved for the truly grand.

Like Bonnie & Clyde, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid immortalized a historic twosome. Both movies took great liberties with the truth of their stories in pursuit of art. Butch and Sundance, of course, were a couple of guys. But not just any guys. Goodness me, has the movies ever had a pairing of men so appealing as Paul Newman and Robert Redford? It would be hard to think of a twosome that could match them let alone one that did. While Bonnie and Clyde plied their trade during America's Great Depression, Butch and Sundance were, symbolically methinks, cavorting about at the end of an era. Specifically the closing of the American Frontier. Indeed it started closing in on them so fast they had to lam it to South America. Australia would have been next.

Both pairs of heroes were careful to do their pilfering from banks leaving poor folk to have their pittance. This was another appeal to audiences then (and now for that matter). No better way to "stick it the man" than heisting his loot and if you could spread a little love around to those in need, all the better.

Butch and Sundance did not have a motley crew. They did have Katherine Ross and there was nothing motley about her in 1969. Thus these three protagonists were very easy on the eyes. When crooks look like models rather than sewer rats they're a damn sight easier to root for. And when those beauties are shot to pieces we feel all the worse for their fate (that their real life counterparts were not nearly so undeserving is immaterial). In Bonnie & Clyde we see seemingly every damn one of those umpteen bullets penetrate their bodies. It's more balletic than brutal. More artistic than awful. In Butch Cassidy we see nary a single shot deface out heroes. They freeze in tableau as the hail of bullets are fired at them. Round after round. The scene is left to our imaginations and most of us choose just to remember them poised and posed in time. Gory details are absent. The cessation of their lives suffices to punctuate their story.

The Wild Bunch is in many ways a very different movie from the other two and may strike some as an odd choice to include here. There is a gang, not a dynamic duo. The heroes are not beautiful people, but symbolically to the story, aging gunslingers. There is no romance just a drunken romp with a few female Mexican villagers. The Wild Bunch did not have quite the same appeal to young audiences as the other two films and may not seem to be an anti authoritarian a movie to some.

Like Butch and Sundance, the gang here was doing its deeds at the end of an era and there is even more symbolism to their time and venue. It was Southern Texas and Mexico just before World War I fully introduced the modern age of killing. We get a glimpse of this as the gang employs one of those new fangled machine guns to mow down the enemy. Indeed by the time the bloodletting is done it seems the romantic Old West has bled to death too.

William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Warren Oates and Ben Johnson were not exactly spring chickens when they starred as the Bunch. And of course that was part of the point. These were old men trying to hold on to their old ideas long enough for one last score. They end up taking on a corrupt and just god awful Mexican general and his army. So there you have at. A gang of outlaws decide suddenly to do the right thing. With Holden uttering one of Hollywood's greatest ever two word lines -- "let's go" (but it's the way he said it) -- they embark on a suicidal attack against the military. You don't get any more rebellious than that, folks.

As in the other two films our heroes die by gunfire -- lots of it. But in this case, though bloody and operatic, it is a bit less dramatic than the aforementioned films as they fall one at a time. Also, these heroes actually win their final battle, though of course making the ultimate sacrifice in the bargain.

In all three movies audiences found themselves not just siding with, but heartily rooting for blatant law breakers. However we had plenty of reason to cheer them. Women, children and virtually anyone “innocent” was spared. These were anti heroes and part of that heroism was that they lived life on their terms (don’t we all wish we could? Most of us can’t even tell off the boss, let alone rob the b*stard). And by God they were having one great big barrel of fun in the bargain. Some of these heroes were witty, some were good looking, some were philosophical. All shared a passionate hatred for any constraints society tried placing on them. Jail was out of the question. Hell, a 9-5 job was unthinkable.

They had to get blown away at the end though. They were paying for our sins, those misdeeds of theirs we rooted on and imagined ourselves doing. (It was left to A Clockwork Orange (1971) a few years later to go the next step and leave its criminal deviant alive and well thus leaving to us to wrestle with our consciences.) These were not the crime-doesn't-pay endings of Film Noir. Their deaths made them and their exploits legendary. Its hard to forget such endings, and with no further exploits to come, we remember their deeds all the more.

Of course whatever these films were about would have been moot were it not for the fact that they were visionary in style. The honor roll of directors: Bonnie & Clyde, Arthur Penn; Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, George Roy Hill; and The Wild Bunch Sam Penckinpah.

I could have gone in ever so slightly a different direction and included Robert Aldirch’s The Dirty Dozen (1967). It did, after all feature a bunch of cons, though led by a legit Lee Marvin and performing a noble mission during WWII against the Nazis. It had many of the same elements of three films featured in the post. Especially with Charles Bronson’s clarion call to the Sixties as its closing line, “I hate officers.” (Thanks to my friend and fellow film buff Marty for pointing out to me the significance of this line.)

Hello Stranger!

The Petrified Forest (1936) is mostly remembered for Humphrey Bogart's performance as Duke Mantee -- a brilliant re interpretation of John Dillinger --and the hostage scene that comprises the film's second half. But to me the most intriguing aspect of the movie is the first half when Alan Squier (Leslie Howard) walks into Gabrielle Maple's (Bette Davis) life.

Interlude:
A July 4th weekend when I was 15. At a large family gathering. My first cousins and I were bored to tears when in walked a distant relative we'd never met. Steven was 19, a true hippie, an intellectual. Funny, fun loving. He spiked our lemonade with vodka. I was never the same again. It's not that Steven’s introducing me to demon rum that was so significant. In the course of the weekend he helped transform me from a naif to bohemian. The booze was but one aspect of this change. I started reading more seriously, laughing more uproariously and questioning authority more openly. This devilish raconteur had unlocked something within me. The lid would never go back on Pandora’s Box.

It happens in life that one someone strides into a person's sphere and they are forever changed. Often they bring true love and all the attendant joy and grief. But it can be so much else or more than that. Witness Gabrielle.

She lives with her father and grandfather out in the stultifying Arizona desert where she works at the family diner. She dreams of going to France and staying with her mother. Ahh to to go France where anything is possible! Meanwhile she's pursued by the hired help, a big lummox, strong of body, weak of mind and fore square in his intent to betroth Gabby. He's clearly not in Gabrielle's class. She loves poetry, painting and her larger than life dreams. My God how many women have succumbed over the centuries to lesser men either out of necessity or desperation? (Don't do it young women, hold out for someone special, like my wife did...okay, maybe not a great example.)

Into the diner walks an Englishman, exotic for his nationality alone. But he brings more. This Mr. Squier is a writer, a traveler and a very deep thinker indeed. That he is penniless is of no matter, he brings other types of riches, far more valuable ones. Alan can enrich Gabrielle's mind if not her purse. He brings charm, wit, contemplation and experience.

Our Gabrielle will never be the same.

In the end, of course, he makes the ultimate sacrifice so that she can pursue her dreams. But the greatest gift was not the insurance money but unlocking possibilities.

That's what a new person entering our life can do. Help us experience or to see different ways of living or at least of viewing the world. The Petrified Forest explores this idea as well as any film before or since. But surely Gabrielle is not merely the beneficiary of extraordinary luck. Anyone may be exposed to the new and interesting. It is crucial to be open to it, to be able to appreciate it, to explore it. If Gabrielle were not intellectually curious then Alan’s arrival would be like giving a great book to an illiterate.

Of course there is another stranger who enters the diner: Bogart's Duke Mantee. Surely his presence is crucial to Gabrielle as well. But he is all accident, mayhem and death. He forces change by barging in and wreaking havoc, not by enriching or opening minds.

In addition to Bogie, fine performances by Howard and Davis highlight the film as does Genevieve Tobin in a small but crucial role as a fellow hostage. As Mrs. Chisolm she represents the very opposite of what Gabrielle's aspires to be. Mrs. Chisolm heartbreakingly tells of how she gave up her dreams when she married for money and has thus lived with regret ever since.

I cannot finish this post without including these wonderful words from Squier: "Any woman's worth everything that any man has to give: anguish, ecstasy, faith, jealousy, love, hatred, life or death. Don't you see that's the whole excuse for our existence? It's what makes the whole thing possible and tolerable."

Amen, brother.

Margaret Dumont and Joe Pesci Would Make Such a Cute Couple

First of all take a big sip of water and don't swallow. Ready?

I was watching A Night at the Opera (1935) on TCM Saturday and got to thinking about how similar it is to Goodfellas (1990).

Spit take!

Those of you who haven't already concluded that I'm round the bend may now join the rest of the universe in assuming that all's not well in Riku's gray matter. The Marx Brother and the mob? Rufus T. Firefly and Paul Cicero? Thirties comedy and Nineties gangster?

It's all in the anarchy, folks. Groucho, Chico and Harpo don't play by the rules. Laws, conventions, social norms mean nothing to them. If it felt good, they did it. Especially if it got a laugh. For Henry Hill, Jimmy Conway, Tommy DeVito and the rest of the "gang' in Goodfellas, laws and rules are at most a minor inconvenience. Certainly nothing to get in the way of a few dollars or a good time.

To the brothers Marx and the fellas good, society was something to take advantage of not aspire to. No traipsing carefully around civilized, cultured types, they are squares who don't know from fun. As for cops and dowagers, they were foils. In fact anyone who presumed to authority or respectability was subject to a good smack or a clever jibe.

One of the great appeals of both the Marx Brothers in particular and the gangster genre in general is the vicarious thrill derived from watching people do whatever the hell they want to do -- and for the most part getting away with it. Of course someone walking into a cafe and spitting on the floor would neither be entertaining nor interesting. But pulling of a heist or cracking wise at the expense of a society dame...as the song goes..that's entertainment!

Movies are, after all, an ideal form of escape. There's nothing like living out the fantasy of doing what you want on your own terms be it killing em with laughter or a gat. Harpo bounds around wordlessly creating havoc and chasing women -- literally-- just as we might like to do. Meanwhile Jimmy Conway takes what he wants, when he wants, but always as a gentleman, leaving cash with the hijacked truck drivers. With laughs or panache, its all done outside regulations.

The rest of us our confined by society's conventions. Sure, we may cheat a little here, or take a bit extra there, or ignore section something code something else. But we do it behind close doors and maybe even a little guiltily.

The Marx Brothers and the gangsters of Goodfellas are also honest. They don't pretend to be respectable like we do. There are no false fronts in the way they live their lives, actually live them. How gleefully audiences applaud those who are true to their spirit, living life on their own terms. how jealous we are of them.

Not our cinematic friends. They've the cajones to do in front of god and everyone else.

Imagine.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie That's Gomorra

In the introduction to his new book, "Have You Seen...?" film critic and historian David Thomson says of praising beloved movies: "There is a monotony to writing or reading about just the splendid....Enthusiasm is too easy and can lead to lazy writing formulaic writing."

Guilty as charged.

That being fresh in my mind it makes it all the more difficult to write about the film I saw yesterday, Gomorra. All manner of glowing adjectives apply to this recent import from Italy. So I'll have to do without such well worn encomiums as "powerful, tour de force, brilliant, stunning, wonderful, unforgettable," to name but a few. Hmm, this won't be easy.

Gomorra won the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival last year. It is a stark look at the Camorra, the Neapolitan version of the Mafia. (I doubt that the two names rhyming is mere coincidence.) They use their vast criminal enterprises such as drug trafficking and toxic waste disposal to fund legitimate business ventures. Both their annual revenue and number of homicides committed are astronomical. Robert Saviano wrote the 2006 book Gomorra upon which the movie is based (he co-wrote she screenplay) and is consequently now living undercover under 24 hour protection. Clearly the Camorra are very much a going concern and a lethal one at that.

The film follows five separate strands all concerning individuals within the Camorra -- from the young to the old -- who reckon they can go their own way within the crime syndicate. None really succeed (is there any form of success attendant to such a life?) but neither do all suffer death.

The violence in Gomorra is not stylized. There is not slow motion, there is no accompanying rock music. Indeed you feel at times you are watching a documentary. Characters are not colorful or engaging. There's virtually no one to root for.

Director Matteo Garrone eschews such devices instead giving us a realistic look at an ugly, depressing world. Hardly sounds like entertaining stuff but it Gomorra is utterly compelling from start to finish. There is nothing gratuitous in the movie. There is no affect to any of the performances. Indeed, the word performance seems an odd way to describe the manner in which the actors go about the business of playing their roles.

Sometimes a movie succeeds because of the style and world it creates. Gomorra is more a re-creation of a world that already exists. ( One that we'd like to wish away.) As such it makes Slumdog Millionaire look like High School Musical.

The Godfather, Goodfellas, The Sopranos all speak different sort of truths about organized crime. Perhaps they are guilty (quite by accident) of glamorizing the Mafia. Gomorra -- no better or worse a depiction than these three, merely different -- makes it look the ugly, brutal business it really is. As there is more than one way to skin a cat (not that I know of any) there are innumerable ways to reveal the reality behind the mob.

One of the countless signs of the Oscars irrelevance in actually selecting the best films and performances of the year is the fact that Gomorra, to the astonishment of many, didn't receive a Best Foreign Film nomination. Sheesh!

If you're lucky enough to be living in an area where Gomorra plays, go see it. Otherwise dutifully wait for its DVD release and rent it right away. You'll be glad you did.

"One dog goes one way, the other dog goes the other way, and this guy's sayin', 'Whadda ya want from me?'" Goodfellas, A Case of Great Story Telling.

The 18th century philosopher Immanuel Kant said that we never truly know what the outside world is like because all knowledge of it is based on perception and that all perception is based on the structure and limitations of our senses. Another philosopher, William James, went to far as to say that the only truths that were at all relevant were those with beneficial effects. I suppose him to mean that it is true that drinking water is healthy while drinking battery acid is harmful. If Kant and James are at all correct, how can their be any universal truths or agreements about films?

We all watch a movie with our set of biases, beliefs and experiences. What resonates for one person may be utterly meaningless, perhaps even silly for another. While some may have weeped while watching Love Story (1970) others might burst out laughing. Some consider The Seven Samurai (1954) high art and others are bored to tears by it. Moreover we see films at different points in our life. A movie that thrilled us as a teenager may seem tedious as an adult. A movie may seem more or less meaningful to a person depending on the given day they see it. External stimuli, recent events in our life can alter how we perceive a movie.

Some people, foolishly, I believe, try to convince others that they are wrong about liking or disliking a movie. It's akin to saying, "no, you had a great time at the party" or "no, you did not enjoy that meal you just ate."

Even the reasons several people have for liking or disliking a film may and often do vary. For example there are any number of different reasons for liking Martin Scorsese's Goodfellas(1990). Amazingly, there are some people who don't like the film. To any of those people reading this post I say, try back another time, this one's not for you.

Goodfellas is the amazing and largely true story of Henry Hill's raise and fall as a New York gangster from the late 1950's through 1980. Hill entered the witness protection program after a narcotics arrest. His story was the basis of Nicholas Pillegi's book WIseguys upon which Goodfellas is based. Goodfellas chronicles his life from teenaged errand boy for local mobsters to an affiliate with the Lucchese crime family. It includes depictions of such other real crime figures as Jimmy Burke, Tommy DeSimone and Paul Vario, portrayed by Robert DeNiro, Joe Pesci and Paul Sorvino, respectively.

I am not alone in regarding the film was one of the greatest ever made. However, in the spirit of this particular post I will allow that there area all variety of opinion on the movie and whether and why it deserves a place among the greats in film history.

The case has been made that Goodfellas glamorizes organized crime. Some people have objected to the violence, drug use, sex, and profanity in the movie. Still others claim that it is a cautionary tale about the devastating costs of the criminal life such as early death, prison and drug addiction.

I'm not particularly interested in either view. I simply see Goodfellas as vibrant, exciting film making. Pacing is everything in Goodfellas. With the aid of multiple Oscar winning editor Thelma Schoonmaker, Goodfellas flows like a river. But this is no placid stream. It's a wild ride folks. A hint of what is to come is in Goodfella's amazing opening sequence. It's a prologue in which a supposedly dead mobster in the trunk of car being driven to his burial starts raising a ruckus. Hill, played by Ray Liotta, and two cohorts park by the roadside and make sure their already bloody victim is good and dead with a few well placed knife thrusts and pistol shots. As Hill goes to close the trunk, freeze frame on his face and we hear his voiceover in which he says: "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster." Then, prophetically, we hear Tony Bennett sing, "Rags to Riches." The opening credits then zip vertically across the screen. Beautiful.

As is the closing shot of a bored Hill now a participant in the witness protection program living in suburbia. Hill complains, “I'm an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.” Then Scorsese offers an homage to the closing scene of The Great Train Robbery (1903) with Pesci’s character firing shots at the camera. As the closing credits come on we hear My Way, sung not by Sinatra, but Sid Viscous.

Great movies attain their stature both because of their seamlessly and memorable scenes. Goodfellas is lousy with unforgettable cinematic moments such as Pesci’s “what’s so funny about me scene?” that doubtless helped him secure the best supporting Actor Oscar.

For Goodfellas, Scorcese pulled out every trick in the book. Freeze frames, fast cuts, long tracking shots, narration from two characters (besides Hill we hear his wife, played by Lorraine Bracco). It all works. There’s not a wasted second in the film.

One reason Mafia films in particular and crime films in general have been so successful is because they are often populated with colorful characters. With a cast the likes of Pesci, DeNiro, Sorvino and Frank Vincent, Scorcese brought a perfect team to play those characters. He also brought his unerring sense of what music to use. No director, current or past, save Woody Allen, is better at integrating music into film. You notice the songs and you also notice how well they work, how they add tension, or irony or mood.

Goodfellas succeeds at the highest aspiration of film: it entertains and illuminates. It shines a very bright light on myriad issues of contemporary and philosophical natures. The lure of living outside society, flouting its rules, unhesitatingly resorting to violence when necessary. All these seem temptations. Says Hill: “For us to live any other way was nuts. To us, those goody-good people who worked shitty jobs for bum paychecks and took the subway to work every day and worried about their bills were dead. I mean they were suckers. They had no balls. If we wanted something we just took it. If anyone complained twice they got hit so bad, believe me, they never complained again.”

But of course we see where it all ends and the grim reality of the criminal's lot is never more evident than in a memorable sequence of a coked up Hill on the day of his arrest. We can practically feel his heart-pumping, anxiety, his hangover, his very obvious paranoia as a helicopter hovers above wherever he goes. It is at once uncomfortable and exhilarating to watch. The whole damn movie is like that. When a gangster is beaten to death it's ugly and unpleasant (as it should be) but a thrill to watch.

Crime doesn’t pay. But this movie pays off. Goodfellas is great story telling --at least in my reality.

Essay Question: When Does Michael Corleone Change?

In high school and middle school English classes students read a novel and then, at the behest of their teacher, beat it to death.

Before I completed my credential program I was a tutor in a middle school English class at the school where I was student teaching. The students had just read Howard Fast's novel of the American Revolution, April Morning. They were assigned an essay in which they had to address the question of when Adam (a central character) became a man. I ended up teaching at the same school for 20 years and for 20 years students in English classes read April Morning and wrote essays theorizing about when Adam achieved manhood.

I have a version of that question that comes to mind whenever I watch my favorite film of all time, The Godfather (1972): "When does Michael transform from being Joe College to Joe Mafia?" As you may recall, at the beginning of the film Michael Corleone is a recently returned war hero who wants nothing to do with "the family business." By the time the movie ends Michael is in charge of that very family business (it's not really focused on olive oil). He does not hesitate to order killings, even of his own brother-in-law.

So when did he change? Was there a bolt of lightening moment?

Here are some possible moments, offered in chronological order.

The Hospital Bed. Michael arrives at the hospital to visit his father who has been shot and is in serious condition. He father is still very much at risk of another attack but has been left unprotected. Michael enlists the help of a baker who has showed up to pay his respects and moves his father's bed. He and the baker then stand outside the hospital pretending to have guns. They in fact scare off a car seemingly filled with potential assassins. Michael has clearly turned a corner. He is protecting his father. But he is also at one level a participant in the family business and he neither can nor will turn back.

The Punch. Having successfully moved his father and spooked some menacing figures, Michael is confronted by a police captain, McCluskey. The two argue over whether police protection should be provided. Michael brashly suggests that the cop check with the crime boss for whom he works. The incensed officer punches Michael in the face, breaking his jaw. This is a profound moment for Michael. He's been viciously struck by policeman, essentially while protecting his father. This is quite close to a literal lightening bolt as he is shocked into a life changing decision.

The Decision. As the family decides what their next move is going to be in wake of the attempt on the Godfather's life, Michael offers a suggestion. He'll meet with the invulnerable crime boss, Solozzo, and his constant protection, the aforementioned McCluskey, and shoot them both. Though initially laughed off by his older brother, the plan is made. Michael has offered himself as the one to kill the family's chief rival and a New York City cop to boot. There is absolutely no turning back for Michael at this point. He has committed himself to the family forever at the sacrifice of a normal, law abiding life.

The Bada Bing. Michael calmly and coolly carries out the double execution. He shoots the two men in the head and takes it on the lam in Sicily under extended family protection. Once he fires those shots he's in. His ability to pull the trigger and end two other people's lives mean he has, if not gone over to the dark side, gone to a darker place in his soul. Any dreams of a life outside the family's business are forever dashed at this moment.

The News. While hiding out in Sicily Michael receives the news that his older brother has been killed. Given the fragile health of his father and the weaknesses of his remaining brother Fredo, Michael surely knows that he must take over the family business upon returning to America. He may still have entertained hopes of putting the murders he committed behind him and living a peaceful life with his new Sicilian bride, but the assassination of his brother pushes changes that. Now he knows he'll be needed and he must answer the call. His life course has been set.

The Explosion. Michael witnesses the death of his bride in a car explosion fully realizing the bomb was meant for him. In Sicily he found love and happiness in the form of a beautiful innocent young woman. With her fiery death Michael is forever and irrevocably hardened. From this point on we see a different Michael. One who rarely even smiles. He is cold, calculating and all business. The light in his soul so evident through the first part of the film has been extinguished. His heart is dark. The horrible death of his wife has made him forever cold and not incidentally, a natural crime boss.

Of course, the question of when and how Michael changes is central to the entire movie. If one were going to teach a class on the film (if so, sign me up) that essay question would have to be on the final. For me it all starts with the punch. He has been struck violently in the face by a man who is supposed to be an officer of the law. This moment comes as he is trying to guarantee the safety of his father who is in hospital upon as a consequence of being shot repeatedly.

That the punch results in a broken jaw is not necessarily significant. It is the fact of the punch that's important. Watch him afterwards. It is in his next scene, jaw swollen, that he offers to shoot Solozzo and McCloskey. Note his intensity. There's no blink. There is no hesitation. There is no betrayal of emotion, not even in the face of his older brother's teasing. There is only resolution. He is now ready to cross the line to commit the ultimate sin and break the central law of our society. The punch changes Michael. Before he was a "civilian," safe from the violence that regularly visits Mafia families. Now he has essentially enlisted in the cause. It's the punch that did it.

One can certainly argue (and I would agree) that this was a path that Michael was likely headed once his father was shot. But certain events had to line up for Michael to ultimately become Godfather, notably the death of Sonny. Once his father was shot, the punch in the jaw was the trigger for all the other dominoes to fall.

If anyone disagrees and think another of the above-mentioned events was the real trigger (no pun intended) you'll get no argument from me. Provided, students, that you can support your answer.

The Public Enemy, It's Not Just About the Grapefruit

"I wish you was a wishin' well. So I could tie a bucket to ya and sink ya." - Tom Powers as played by James Cagney in The Public Enemy (1931).

First of all, that doesn't make any sense. How do you sink a wishing well? Secondly, anyone who would say such a thing is likely a real jerk. Thirdly disregard the first point and realize the second one is irrelevant.

Huh?

Here's the thing about cinema. You can take the story of a gangster like Tom Powers, even show him shoving a grapefruit into his girlfriend's face, and create a thoroughly compelling story. Hell, you even end up rooting for the dirty rat.

Public Enemy is, in my estimation, one of the great film's of all time. The then-young Jimmy Cagney gives a performance that even he was only able to equal a couple of times (Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) and White Heat (1949)). At first look he may just seem all snappy dialogue and tough guy bravado. But watch him move. Cagney is as graceful as a ballet dancer and as powerful as a running back. No actor has ever looked more comfortable in his body. Watch him lean again the bar and give a confederate the affectionate air punch to the jaw. Watch him squire around Jean Harlow or run from the cops or just walk into a room. He's mesmerizing.

Powers is an uncompromising character in the uncompromising story of a gangster's raise. Director William Wellman (the best director you've never heard of) tells a story filled with sex and violence and death. But it's mostly all off camera (modern directors, take note). When Cagney shoots a former boss who betrayed him, we hear the shots but watch Cagney's partner react. In one of the best scenes you'll ever see we watch a grim faced and determined Cagney stride purposefully into his rivals' lair. We watch him disappear into the building and are left to listen to the ensuing shots and screams. Even the slaying of a horse is off camera, though audible.

We don't need to see people getting shot. We do need to see Cagney -- and we get lots of him.

Public Enemy doesn't really moralize. Sure it shows the rise of street punk to his inevitable fate and no this is no glamorizing of the gangster life. But the story is more documentary than fable. The reality of it stylized only by Cagney's performance.

Hollywood has produced some terrific gangster films from Little Caesar (1931) to Goodfellas (1990) with many before after and in between. The Public Enemy rates with the best of them. Like others of it genre it gives the vicarious thrill of rooting for the outlaw. We can imagine doing what we want, taking what we want, not bound by society's conventions. Usually there is an anti hero to root for. He (invariably it's a man) doesn't just break the law but does it with panache. Maybe he's handsome, he can even be charmer, usually he's quite smart. He probably loves his dear old ma too.

But the best of them, like Cagney's Tom Powers, have got charisma. Anyone interested in Cagney, the gangster genre or good films, will want to see The Public enemy. And not just once.