80. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

It’s been said that you can’t have a serious discussion about this movie without talking about Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton’s offscreen relationship. So I won’t.


Their onscreen performances are what matter. And they’re spectacular. This is the image of Elizabeth Taylor that immediately springs to mind when I think about her: slightly attractive even as an overweight middle-aged drunk who’s falling apart at the seams. The voyeur in me would rather I picture Taylor’s Father Of The Bride-era figure whenever I think about her, but her performance in this carved a chunk out of my brainspace and she’s there solidly. As good as she is in this, though, it’s Richard Burton that really shocks me with his performance. It’s my favourite film performance of Burton’s; not that I’ve seen everything he’s ever done, of course, but he is a powerhouse in Woolf. I like Paul Schofield in A Man For All Seasons, but him over Burton? You gotta be crazy, Academy.


Of course, part of their performance is the script. I have admired Edward Albee’s play since I discovered it in Junior High school (I know, I know, pretentious much?), and it’s captured spectacularly here. Mike Nichols knows better than to clutter things up with camera angles that draw attention to themselves, but it’s very cleverly shot and cut together so that the director is almost invisible and the audience member feels like a voyeur watching this horrible night unfold. At the end you might not feel good about any of the people, you might not feel good about yourself, but you’ve felt something new and strange and different (I hope) than your real life. It’s a powerful movie that resonates up and down my spine. It might not work for everyone, but it sure as hell works for me.

81. Some Like It Hot

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(Hey, remember when I used to do these?)
Some Like It Hot is a jewel in the crown of American film. It’s a comedy with bite, a modern-day farce, and a showcase for a host of incredibly talented professionals. First of all: the script is great. Not the best that Billy Wilder ever came up with (The Apartment is wittier and Sunset Boulevard is cleverer), but it is the funniest, and the most accessible. And when the main plot points of a script are cross-dressing, gangster hit squads, and pretending to be a millionaire to trick a woman into sleeping with you, and this is in 1959…saying that it’s accessible is saying a lot.
This was the first movie where I saw Marilyn Monroe as more than just jello on springs (but as Jack Lemmon points out, she is that too). She’s funny and fresh, and you honestly believe her innocent act when she’s hanging out on the train car with “Honey.” But it’s when she’s seducing Tony Curtis that she really brings her A-game. You believe that too, and HOW.
And speaking of Tony Curtis: FORGET ABOUT IT. I know Jack Lemmon did more with Wilder, but if there’s justice in this universe, there’s an alternate Earth where Tony Curtis and Billy Wilder made seven or eight movies together and are just as closely associated as Ford and Wayne or Scorsese and DeNiro. For years this film coloured my impression of every role he did before or since: I couldn’t get this performance out of my mind. Lemmon’s funny in this movie, but Curtis is absolutely unstoppable.
And I can’t leave George Raft out. His performance as Spats is the best gangster role of his career. History may have cast him as the runner-up to Bogart, but he’s so damn good in this it breaks my heart that he’s not better-known.
The cherry on top is that it looks absolutely amazing. This is how I wish more black & white movies looked: bright whites and sharp blacks in the daytime, clear but muted whites and shadowy blacks at night. The lighting is perfect and the cinematography is perfect no matter whether the mood is comedic, romantic, or tense. Some Like It Hot is not just a smart, funny comedy. It’s a masterpiece.

Sunday Night Realizations

I just realized that I approach my career like I approach my romantic life: find someone who will actually take take me, then cling on desperately hoping that I will never have to do it again. Considering how well that worked out for me in the one aspect of my life, I see nothing going wrong with continuing to apply this strategy to the other.

I do not advocate that we turn television into a twenty-seven inch wailing wall where longhairs constantly moan about the state of our culture and our defense. BUt I would just like to see it reflect occasionally the hard, unyielding realities of the world in which we live… this instrument can teach, it can illuminate: yes and it can even inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends. Otherwise, it is merely wires and lights in a box.
Edward R. Murrow
1961  (via satellitesam)