Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly's Singin' in the Rain (1952)

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Hal Ashby's Harold and Maude (1971)

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Gil Junger's 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

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Michel Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

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Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca (1942)

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.
Play it once, Sam. For old times' sake.
Round up the usual suspects.
Here's looking at you, kid.

There is perhaps no film that is quoted more often in popular culture than the 1940s drama Casablanca. Beloved by audiences around the world since its release in 1942, Casablanca is widely considered today to be one of the greatest films of all time.

This was not always the case. Upon its initial release, Casablanca was just another romantic drama turned out by Hollywood in its heyday. It received generally good reviews, but no one expected it to become the icon it is today. This change in popularity cannot be contributed to one event or aspect of the movie; it simply continued to capture the hearts of more and more viewers as time went on. Murray Burnett, author of the play from which Casablanca was adapted, calls the story, “true yesterday, true today, true tomorrow.”

Casablanca stars Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid. Directed by Michael Curtiz, the story is set during World War II and focuses on the moral struggles of cynical expatriate Rick Blaine (Bogart), who runs a nightclub in the Moroccan city of Casablanca. At that time, Casablanca was a colony controlled by Vichy France (the French government after France was defeated by Nazi Germany in 1940), and Rick’s Café has become a hotspot for refugees looking for illegal letters of transit to escape to America.

One day an unexpected visitor from Rick’s past re-enters his life, and he is forced to make a decision between “love and virtue.” Rick must choose between being with the woman he loves (Bergman as Ilsa Lund) and assisting her and her husband (Henreid as Victor Laszlo), who is a Czech Resistance leader escaped from a Nazi-controlled concentration camp, out of Casablanca. Ilsa had deserted Rick earlier in the war when the Nazis took over Paris, but seeing him in Casablanca is all it takes for their romance to be sparked once again.

The role of Rick Blaine was a turning point in Bogart’s career. Although by this time he was well-known in Hollywood thanks to roles in films like High Sierra and The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca gave Bogart a chance to break out of his gangster typecast and open the doors to the more romantic roles he would become known for in his later years. Similarly, Casablanca was Bergman’s first big hit after her American debut in the 1939 film Intermezzo.

The supporting characters in Casablanca are just as poignant as the leads - Claude Rains as Captain Louis Renault, Conrad Veidt as Major Heinrich Strasser, Sydney Greenstreet as Signor Ferrari, Peter Lorre as Signor Ugarte, and of course Dooley Wilson as Sam are equally as memorable in their respective roles as Bogart and Bergman are as conflicted lovers Rick and Ilsa.

Casablanca is a tour of humor and heartache, a patriotic film that continues to capture the hearts of its viewers, even seventy years after its initial release. Its iconic nature has awarded it a devoted fan base of viewers who continue to enjoy the tale of Rick and Ilsa’s fated romance – The Brattle Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts, for example, has screened the film during the week of Harvard University’s final exams since 1957, and the film has spawned numerous parodies, including 2001’s Out Cold and Woody Allen’s 1972 hit Play it Again, Sam.

Casablanca was nominated for eight and won three Academy Awards in 1943, ranked number two on the American Film institute’s list of the 100 best American movies (second only to Citizen Kane), and in 2006, the Writers Guild of America named its screenplay number one in its list of the 101 greatest screenplays of all time. These accolades are nothing, however, in comparison to the place Casablanca has earned in the hearts of millions of fans, who return again and again to experience the romance and suspense, and to hear that famous closing line : Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Maddie Butler
Film Club

Ashutosh Gowariker’s Lagaan (2001)

On a Saturday night, it is not unusual to find my family sitting together on a couch watching a movie. No, they usually aren’t in English. They’re in Hindi. No, they’re usually not intense dramas, but they include song and dance. Welcome to the world of Bollywood. My family will start the movie around 8 or 9 o’clock, a decent time (if we were watching something from Hollywood). But remember, this is Bollywood, where it is not unusual to find a movie that is three hours long. Tonight’s movie, Lagaan, is even longer.

In India, going to see a movie is an experience by itself. You buy the tickets ahead of time, because the theater fills up fast for a number of reasons. They don’t just serve popcorn there, but delicious Indian street food. And for those people who don’t have much money, a movie ticket is expensive. So the longer the film the more it seems like one gets one’s money’s worth. In addition, it can get quite hot in some places in India; a longer movie means more time in an air conditioned theater. Consequently, people don’t just treat going to a film as three hours well spent, but they consider it to be a day well spent.

Generally, each movie features five or six songs with choreographed dance. Often times, it is between a boy and a girl. These musical numbers tend to add on 25 or 30 minutes to the length. It is not enough for the girl to act like she’s happy with a boy, but she has to sing and dance to express her feelings.

For American audiences, the biggest challenge from Bollywood is probably the length of the film. Why is it like that? Is it the American film industry that has limited our attention span? Is 90 or 120 minutes really enough for the movie to say something?

Lagaan is trying to say something, but at 225 minutes it has a lot more time to say it. It is a typical sports “underdog” movie, but with so many more elements. Set in the time when the British are governing in India, it has a romantic triangle between a British girl, Indian boy, and Indian girl. All of this is going on, while there is pressure on the villagers to pay three times the tax to the British, or lagaan, if they don’t win a cricket match, a game that they don’t understand. As Bollywood-ish as the movie is, it comments on underlying issues in Indian society. The Caste system is a social hierarchy in India. While not as enforced today, it plays a big role in whether or not they should let an untouchable play cricket with them.

Lagaan can be regarded as a key player for the crossover of Bollywood movies to other parts of the world. The main actor of the movie, Aamir Khan, who has achieved critical success since then in acting and producing, has the kind of appeal that transcends regional tastes. As recognition of its crossover qualities, Lagaan was nominated for the Best Foreign Language Oscar in the 2002 Academy Awards. It didn’t win (the Bosnian film No Man’s Land took the award), but it was still a big step for India. I hope you enjoy tonight’s special Indian treat.

Aditi Kulkarni
Film Club

Woody Allen’s Annie Hall (1977)

In 1977 Woody Allen directed Annie Hall, winning four Academy Awards and over thousands of fans across the world. Annie Hall is a romantic comedy involving Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) and Annie Hall (Diane Keaton). Allen, who both acts and directs, produced many successful films prior to Annie Hall yet the 1977 romantic comedy is arguably his best. Allen followed this success with Manhattan (1979) and other films such as Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), which won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. Allen’s success continued into the 21st century with his film Match Point’s nomination for an Academy Award (Best Original Screenplay).

One thing that makes Allen unique is that he is one of a small group of famous directors, such as Roman Polanski, Zach Braff, Quentin Tarantino, and Alfred Hitchcock, who have also acted in their own films.

Directors who appear in their own films will forever be related back to Sir Alfred Hitchcock from the United Kingdom, who made a cameo appearance in most of his films. For example, in his classic horror film The Birds, Hitchcock leaves a building with his two white terriers on leashes as the female lead enters. In Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train he is seen trying to carry a large bass fiddle onto a train car, the shape of which mirrors his own heavy set body.

Likewise, other directors have had small roles in their own films. Tarantino casts himself as minor roles throughout his films, including Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, Death Proof and Inglourious Basterds. In Inglourious Basterds Tarantino plays a German soldier who awaits his scalping as well as an American soldier.

It is much more rare for a director to star in his or her own movie. Zach Braff actually starred as the lead male actor for his movie, Garden State, but that’s just one movie. Allen has directed almost 40 full-length feature films and starred in almost all of them. (Film Club will show the best Woody Allen film without Woody Allen in it, Bullets Over Broadway, next month.) While one can point to great actor-directors like Laurence Olivier, Orson Welles, and Kenneth Branagh, none of them had near the body of work that Allen does.

So Allen’s starring as the lead male role, alongside three decades of famous actresses, including Diane Keaton, Mia Farrow, Helena Bonham Carter, and most recently Scarlett Johansson, makes him unique. And fortunately Allen has proved himself as a more-than-capable actor; his performance in Annie Hall is spectacular. He even received a nomination for an Academy Award for his performance.

Conor Dowdle
SPA Film Club

Buster Keaton’s The General (1926)

Editor's note: The following conversation was overheard outside of a dim classroom in the hallowed halls of St. Paul Film Academy, where some ongoing discussion of movie lore continues without concern for time or grades.

Alec: Buster Keaton, or Busta Keaton as he is known amongst the more urban crowds …

Findlay: Wait, wait. No one called him that. What urban crowds? Are you suggesting inner city folks are abandoning the clubs and stuff for standing-room-only celebrations of Buster Keaton? The guy who made his first movie in 1917? How would anybody know him?

Alex: Hey, he made himself famous through the silent comedy genre.

Findlay: Dude! You make it sound like he chose that type of film out of variety pack. ‘Hmmmm. Should I go with Low-Budget Zombie or Post-Apocalyptic Drama? Nah, I’ll make Silent Comedy.’ Keaton started in silent films because that’s all there was! What else have you got?

Alec: His main competitors were Harold Lloyd and Charlie Chaplin. He’s not as famous as the other two …

Findlay: … except amongst the urban crowds.

Alec: Uh, yeah. But his works are equally entertaining. He got his start in the entertainment business through vaudeville. By the time he started working on movies he was already well known. You can see his vaudevillian beginnings in his movies.

Findlay: So what can we expect from tonight’s movie, arguably Keaton’s best work, The General?

Alec: Well, I haven’t seen The General.

Findlay: Dude, again! You’re the host!

Alec: But I have seen One Week. I really enjoyed the basic “Romeo and Juliet” plotline. The movie required minimal thinking and maximum laughing. These old school comedies have this exceedingly simple plot and humor but they are somehow able to entertain.

Findlay: Sounds like my English classes. But why is that funny?

Alec: Well, watching silent comedy, sometimes I think “that guy just fell down in some kind of fast motion, why is this funny?” and then he falls down again and I start laughing again. They have this ridiculous quality and although they are simple they are easily able to entertain me.

Findlay: Well, you know what they say about simple pleasures.

Alec: Not really. I know as a member of film club I am supposed to be someone who enjoys intensely thematic and philosophical movies. I can enjoy that kind of movie if they are well done but I also enjoy the simplicity of one man beating the other with a cane and knocking him down.

Findlay: I am totally hiding my Three Stooges collection from you.

Alec: I guess you could call these silent comedies the junk food of the movie world but that really would not be doing them justice. Although they may not require thought or thematic conclusions they are good movies (which cannot be said for most comedies these days).

Findlay: You’re so right. But if silent comedy is “junk food,” what the heck are Adam Sandler comedies? The paste you eat when you’re in kindergarten? I think we should look at silent film in general as a completely different form. The problem is we don’t have a lot of understanding left of the conventions of silent film, the way we do with superhero movies or romantic comedies. How do we watch these movies if their real qualities are on display but we don’t know how to see them?

Alec: Well, at the most basic, they have historical value as far as film goes. But they are also at the beginning of the film comedy genre, the “city on the hill” of film comedies. You can even see traces of these movies in pop culture today whether it be mimicking them or mocking them. In fact the common comedy technique known as slapstick found somewhat of a start here. Your favorite comedies of today would be far different without this awesome genre as a launching pad.

Findlay: Whoa! You’re getting all intensely thematic and philosophical.

Alec: I’m a true fan. Especially of Keaton. I truly enjoy his movies and those who do not give him a chance because he is from the black and white silent genre are insane. Any movie has the potential to be entertaining (yes even Jim Carry movies). People should not avoid silent or black and white films because they think of them as “boring.” People have complained to me that film club is “showing too many old movies this year.” Watching these older films will allow you to appreciate and understand new movies.

Findlay: You said it, Busta!

Alec Nordin (Film Club Co-President) and R. Findlay (Film Club Adviser)

Blake Edwards’ Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

If you’re a modern film-goer, a disturbing moment comes a short way into Blake Edwards’s iconic 1960s romance, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Audrey Hepburn’s character, Holly Golightly, comes home to her apartment late having forgotten her key and awakens her building superintendent, Mr. Yunioshi played by Mickey Rooney, who chastises her:

“Missee Go-right-ree, Missee Go-right-ree,” he yells. “I protesssst. … You disturbuh me.”

That’s right. Mr. Yunioshi is Japanese, and he speaks with a heavy accent. As played by Rooney, he’s a buffoon. And to top it off, the film-makers have chosen to provide Rooney with huge buck-teeth and kooky large glasses that look like they’re increasing his near-sightedness rather than correcting it. There’s really only one phrase to describe it: racist stereotype.

Critics have another word for it – yellowface, or the portrayal of an Asian character by a white actor. Admittedly, Mr. Yunioshi occupies a very small space in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but he’s like the tip of an ugly iceberg. Pre-Civil Rights American film is full of this sort of thing. In 1956, for example, John Wayne played Genghis Khan in The Conqueror. Peter Lorre, a Jewish actor, played the title character in eight “Mr. Moto” films in the late 1930s. In Disney’s The Aristocats (1970), Paul Winchell voiced a feline character named “Chinese Cat,” whose only contribution to the catchy tune “Everybody Wants to Be a Cat” is lines like “Shanghai Hong Kong Egg Foo Yung. Fortune cookie always wrong.” This is accompanied by his hitting the cymbal on his head until his eyes cross and playing his piano with his chopsticks. Hi-larious.

We no longer accept Caucasian actors in blackface, why would we not comprehend that those in “yellowface” as just as offensive? Perhaps we dismiss these sorts of images as the products of a less enlightened time, but we shouldn’t. A more difficult question is how should a more “enlightened” audience react?

We realize that this is an odd question to find in a “why we picked this film” essay. It would seem more of a reason not to pick this film. But Edwards’s movie is a classic. It should be watched. And its weaknesses as well as its strengths should be recognized, discussed, and accounted for. We might dismiss Rooney’s portrayal simply by saying “that was considered funny at that time,” but really a statement like that requires unpacking. Funny for whom? At whose expense? How does a culture make such an assumption? What is the result of a mocking, derogatory portrayal for the American community at large? Why did yellowface continue to be acceptable long after whites in blackface (or as Native Americans) became unacceptable?

You think it didn’t? Have you seen Balls of Fury (2007)? What is Christopher Walken (as Feng) doing?

Sadly, racial stereotypes like Mr. Yunioshi persist, in many forms and in diverse media. It’s up to us to recognize offensive images when they occur, begin the conversation that explores our relationship to them, and take steps to ensure that such derogatory ethnic humor never goes unremarked again.

R. Findlay
Film Club Adviser

Billy Wilder’s Sabrina (1954)

How do we account for the continued popularity of Audrey Hepburn? Ask your parents or grandparents about her and they’ll mention Roman Holiday, Funny Face, My Fair Lady, Charade, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and almost no one has anything critical to say about her. She’s beautiful. She’s fabulous. She’s Audrey.

Is it too simple just to say that she was a movie star, in that old time way that movie stars used to be larger than life, more glamorous than any star seems to achieve these days, and so she sticks in our collective consciousness? As do Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Clark Gable, Humphrey Bogart, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Liz Taylor, Charlton Heston.

What it boils down to for Heburn is class. Hepburn had class – style, couture, grace, savoir faire. Watch her in Sabrina. Even when she’s playing the chauffeur’s daughter, before she’s gone to Europe and hobnobbed with culture, she has that class. The only thing different about her when she comes back is she has fashion – gorgeous dresses designed by Hubert de Givenchy and Edith Head.

(You know Edith Head. She’s the fashion designer Brad Bird caricatured as Edna Mode or “E” in The Incredibles, the designer of their costumes. The real Head, a legend, designed costumes for over 400 movies, from 1927 until 1980. We don’t know if any of them had capes.)

We don’t really need to belabor the point here. To watch Hepburn in Sabrina is to see, to understand star power, to know what was so compelling about her. The other stars in the film – and they were big (Humphrey Bogart and William Holden) – seem to pale when she’s around.

Perhaps a more interesting line of inquisition is why so few Hollywood actors today can achieve this? Certainly part of it is the studio system which no longer exists. The studios controlled, rigidly, the public personae of their stars, and they were able to amplify and shape them into the gods and goddesses we remember. Today things are different; the central publicity machines are missing and the Internet is here, where anyone with a digital camera can catch you nude, overweight, and having a bad hair day on a beach, then post the pictures on their blog for everyone to see. We live in an age in which the sheer volume of personal, and often unflattering data, destroys any possibility of one’s mythologization.

Russell Crowe. Didn’t he hit some guy with a telephone? Julia Roberts is one of the highest paid actresses in Hollywood. Fans are equally aware of her movies and her tempestuous love life.

Myth cannot exist in a world of trivial minutiae that diminishes star status. This is true not only of movie stars but presidents (a 2005 book about Abraham Lincoln claimed he might have been homosexual – the claim is disputed by most historians – and recent revelations about John F. Kennedy’s indiscretions in the White House have done a bit to tarnish his Camelot image), civil rights leaders (historians have argued that some of Martin Luther King’s academic papers and speeches contained plagiarism), and sports heroes (steroids, anyone?).

If anything, watching Audrey Hepburn now allows us to return to a time when we were allowed to have movie stars, and they could exist in a bubble unpunctured by too much information. Could Audrey Hepburn, the glamorous, the embodiment of class, exist as a star today? We think not. That’s why we can revel in and honor her as the star of movies like Sabrina.

R. Findlay
Film Club Adviser

Mike Nichols' The Graduate (1967)

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Wes Anderson’s Rushmore (1998)

Rushmore is the story of a boy in high school who is struggling to find his place in life. Although that sounds cliché, the movie certainly is not. Wes Anderson, who directed and co-wrote Rushmore with Owen Wilson, tells the story of Max Fischer, played by Jason Schwartzman. Although seemingly a bright person, Max Fischer’s grades are just not up to par. Because of his love for extracurricular activities such as language clubs, the school newspaper, and yearbook, he has found little time for his school work. He is placed on sudden death academic probation and must get his grades up to snuff or lose his scholarship to Rushmore High School.

Max has a very eccentric personality, which brings him to compete head to head with Herman Blume (Bill Murray) for the affections of Rosemary Cross (Olivia Williams), a first grade teacher at the school. Herman Blume, a rich man of similar eccentricity, has been seeing Rosemary, and Max becomes especially angry when Rosemary tries to turn him down. Max becomes a scheming, wicked character with revenge on his mind, and the side of him that is shown earlier by his chronic lying habits is brought out into the open. Rushmore is a great film about an outsider with everyone out to stifle his creativity, but also about an adolescent coming to terms with his place in the world.

Charlie Driscoll
Film Club

Hal Ashby’s Harold and Maude (1971)

The first time I saw Harold & Maude was a film editing class. My teacher told me that this film represents everything you need to know about life, death, and everything in between. >

At first glance, Harold & Maude's premise sounds more disturbing than enjoyable. Harold, played by Bud Cort (The Life Aquatic of Steve Zissou), is a young teenager obsessed with death. He commits fake suicides that look surprisingly real. When asked by a psychiatrist about how many he's committed he replies "A rough estimate? I'd say about fifteen." He also attends funerals where he has no business being and drives a hearse. We never really are given any straight answer about why Harold finds himself intrigued with death, but we can guess. He lives alone with his commanding mother, who shoves off his suicides with little care.

But when he meets Maude, played by Ruth Gordon (Rosemary's Baby), at a funeral, he and the audience learn the real celebration of life. Maude, a woman who’s "seventy-nine years young," lives each day to the fullest. She has no respect for any authority as she has almost in a way given up on life. In one scene, she completely abuses a cop in a hilarious way.

It's these ideas of life and death and how similar they end up being. By the end of the film, we have celebrated death, celebrated life, and once again celebrated death.

Many people list Harold & Maude as a classic 70s film. With its hip and spunky characters, great music, and 70s look, the film kind of sits as one of those classic 70s cult films that are hard to ignore. Others compare it to Wes Anderson films (He has called it his favorite film before) as it easily compares to the feel, both narratively and visually, of Bottle Rocket and Rushmore.

In the end Harold & Maude is just a wonderful story about issues teenagers face. Do we want to choose life? Or does our interest in death create a more compelling situation? The questions are up to you to answer.

Peter Labuza
Film Club

Hettie Macdonald's Beautiful Thing (1996)

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