Little Caesar (1930) **

Pizza-Pizza! Everybody wants a piece of the pie, right? Well, the title character of this 1930 classic, Caesar "Rico" Bandello (Edward G. Robinson), is just like everybody else—except, I hope, the psychopathic tendencies. Mervyn LeRoy directs this "grandfather" of the gangster film genre. The story follows the rise and fall of underworld kingpin Rico Bandello.

In the beginning of the film we see small-time crooks Rico and Joe Massara (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) rob and kill a gas station attendant in some western town. The stop off at a diner, turn the clock back 20 minutes, and proceed to eat the prototypical Italian meal: spaghetti. While here they read about the funeral of a big-time mobster. Rico decides he wants to go big-time, too—if Peter Gabriel has just popped in your head, I’m sorry. Anyway, this leads Rico and Joe to Chicago, and Rico convinces kingpin Sam Vettori (Stanley Fields) to bring him into his gang and to nickname him "Little Caesar." Meanwhile, Joe takes a job as a dancer at a gambling club and is partnered with Olga (Glenda Farrell), who he quickly falls in love with and promises that he’ll try to stay away from crime.

Time goes by and Rico works his way into Vettori’s confidence, but because of his bad attitude he is often left out by the kingpin. When word comes down from "Big Boy" (so many food references to be had!!!), AKA the mayor, that mobsters need to curb the violence because of a police crackdown, Vettori is ordered to rein in Rico. Vettori then begins planning a robbery at the club where Joe works and Rico suggests they bring Joe in on the job. This causes a power struggle between Vettori and Rico. It also places an unwilling Joe in a difficult position, as Rico demands his friend’s cooperation. What follows is a montage sequence of gangsters robbing the club on New Year’s Eve. LeRoy chose to shoot the gangsters from the waist down, perhaps in an effort to stress the facelessness of crime. While the crime is taking place Rico shoots and kills the police commissioner. This leads to Rico dethroning Vettori as kingpin of the gang.

Now at the top of food chain, Rico begins to develop classic paranoid tendencies. When his getaway driver Tony starts to visit the local priest to repent his sins, Rico believes Tony has turned yellow. Predating The Godfather by more than 40 years, LeRoy deftly shoots one of the most memorable whack jobs in gangster film history, as he captures Rico driving up and shooting Tony as he is climbing the snowy steps of the church. Tony rolls down the steps and becomes an instant snow angel.

Later, Rico is honored with a party where he is given diamond, platinum watch and where he also makes the mistake of having his picture taken for the newspapers. Meanwhile, Joe overhears his gangster boss at the nightclub put hit on Rico and Joe tries to warn his old friend. Unfortunately, Rico doesn’t get the message and is assailed by machine gun fire from a milk truck. He is only grazed and is pleased to learn that Joe had tried to warn him. Then he takes out Joe’s boss, ostensibly making him Joe’s new boss. Impressed by Rico, Big Boy calls a meeting and informs Rico that he is now the boss of Diamond Pete Montana’s gang, too. This allows Rico the opportunity to offer his loyal friend Joe a partnership. When Joe declines the offer he shouldn’t have refused, Rico blames Olga for turning Joe into a "sissy". He tells Joe that if he doesn’t take the partnership and goes back to Olga that it will mean suicide for both of them. When Joe tries to get Olga to flee town she tells Joe she won’t leave and that they should tell the police what they know about the police commissioner’s death. Just as this is happening Rico and one of his thugs bust through the door. A face off occurs between Joe and Rico, and when Rico can’t pull the trigger on his friend Rico’s thug tried to shoot Joe, but Rico shifts the gun and Joe is only grazed by the bullet. When police sirens are heard the men flee from the scene, leaving Joe and Olga to "rat" on Rico. Rico goes into hiding and has a dramatic fall from grace, as he ends up in a 15 cent a night flophouse. Months later, the police lure Rico out of hiding by placing insulting comments about him in the newspaper. In an unforgettable final scene, the police surround Rico behind a billboard advertising Joe and Olga’s dance show. When Rico refuses to surrender the police riddle the billboard and Rico with machinegun fire. Lying on the ground dying, Rico asks: "Mother of Mercy! Is this the end of Rico?" It is.

What makes this film so good is Edward G. Robinson. He adeptly shows the many layers of Rico’s character, from menacingly evil to sympathetically disillusioned. It is a shame that he wasn’t nominated for an Oscar. He makes you both root for and against Rico. Douglas Fairbanks also does a nice job as conflicted Joe.

The story itself is hard-hitting and trim. There isn’t any fat that needs to be cut. All of the scenes are tightly constructed and lead directly to the dramatic finale. The film is gripping and gritty. This was not a film with a large budget, but that fit perfectly with the dark, sleazy underworld that Le Roy created.

Sadly, Little Caesar couldn’t be shown in American theatres between 1934 and 1953 due to the Hays Code. Today it is considered the movie that launched the gangster film genre. It is a true classic that any fan of Coppola or Scorsese should see.

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Earth (Zemlya) 1930 *1/2

If only the hero of this film, Vasilly, were alive today I could have bought him every man’s Christmas dream gift at the Cracker Barrel—a John Deere hat and t-shirt.

This 1930 silent film, directed by Alexander Dovzhenko, is about a Ukrainian village’s quest for a tractor. Need I say more? Made during one of Stalin’s 5-Year Plans, this is a celebration of modern farming methods and an indictment on private ownership. The landowners (kulaks) in this village become upset when the peasants, using their collective tractor manned by Vasilly, bring in a strong harvest. The kulaks take their revenge by shooting Vasilly as he is walking home one night. Rejecting religion, as all true Soviets do, Vasilly’s family says no to a Christian burial and instead carries his body through the fields. When the murderer celebrates his accomplishment by dancing across graves, rain begins to fall on the crops (Dovzhenko’s heavy-handed way of showing tears). Later, the clouds fade and the sun remerges to shine on the earth again.

Besides tractors, what else is this film about? The cycle of life, I suppose. People die and babies are born. Crops grow and then are harvested so that the people can live and the next cycle of crops can be planted. Are you yawning, too?

This film is considered one of the greatest Soviet-era silent films ever made. I can’t agree, seeing as I found both The Battleship Potemkin and October 100 times more watchable than this. The Nazis destroyed the negative of this film during WWII, but an original release print was saved—yet another crime against humanity we can blame on them.

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The Age of Gold (L'âge d'or) 1930 :(((

To say that watching this 1930 film is a surreal experience is an understatement. To say that I hated all 60 minutes of it is an accurate statement. Rich Vicomtes should not give crazy, young Spaniards money and complete freedom to make art that is "exquisite and delicious." There’s a reason the Catholic Church threatened to excommunicate the de Noailles if they distributed this Luis Bunuel film: it’s just too absurdly raw.

Bunuel opens the film as a documentary, using footage from a 1912 film about the habits of scorpions. If only that were what this film was actually about! Bunuel moves from scorpions to chanting archbishops on a beach. Max Ernst plays a starving soldier who witnesses this act and then hurries to tell other starving soldiers that the Mallorcans (a Spanish island) have arrived. Evidently these Mallorcans are enemies, but because the soldiers are suffering from starvation they are too weak to fight. This isn’t good for the archbishops— we later see the Mallorcans laying a monument to celebrate the archbishops’ skeletal remains. Just as this celebration is taking place we hear amorous screams (yes, it is 1930). The couple is arrested, but the man is released after he shows documents revealing he’s a government official—and a real SOB who kicks dogs. The woman is the daughter of a marquis, who throws a crazy party where all kinds of strange (but evidently not noteworthy to the guests) things happen. A gamekeeper shoots his son over nothing but people continue to mingle. Later, the government official arrives and he and the woman get it on, with Wagner’s "Tristan and Isolde" playing in the background, in the garden. Somehow a concert conductor ends up in the arms of this woman and the official gets a phone call telling him that thousands have died because of his actions. He then goes to his apartment and throws an archbishop out a window. The film ends with the announcement that the Duc de Blangis (and Jesus) is to reemerge from a castle after 120 days of debauchery—Pier Paolo Pasolini references should be inserted here, but I didn’t like his film, either.

The film is most remembered for its shocking images, most notably the cow in the bed (see picture), a woman sucking the toe of a statue (image not included because so much could be inferred), and, of course, Jesus as a spent libertine on the castle drawbridge. These are all images I wish were easily forgotten—they are not.

So, what is this film about? Eroticism? Anti-authoritarianism? Anti-Catholicism? Bunuel said it was "a romantic film performed in full Surrealist frenzy." Okay, whatever you say Luis.

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The Blue Angel (Der blaue Engel) 1930 **

Foreseeing the intellectual laziness of the American population decades before martial art films dubbed theirs, Josef von Sternberg simultaneously shot this film in both English and German (the German is slightly different). Since my understanding of the German language consists of "Juden Verboten" and "Kann ich noch ein Bier", I watched the German version with subtitles. No doubt I have offended the average American filmgoer who would rather watch Tobey "Spiderman" Maguire in the English remake of Brothers than watch the excellent Danish original starring Connie Nielsen. The best way I can think to explain this to these sub-title haters is this: Remember New Coke.

Emil Jannings plays Professor Immanuel Rath, a reserved German schoolteacher who becomes concerned over his students’ fascination with the goings on at the local cabaret, the Blue Angel. When Rath goes to the cabaret to investigate he finds Lola (Marlene Dietrich), an alluring songstress who doesn’t mind changing her clothes in front of men she just met—nor does she mind dropping her panties on them. Somehow Rath ends up taking Lola’s panties home with him, thus the reason he must return the next day to see Lola—no doubt a complex case for Freud.

With his students hiding in a cellar, Rath is treated to a strange seduction at the hands of Lola. Who combs someone’s hair? When Lola is ordered to drink with a drunken sailor who treats her rudely, Rath becomes enraged and chases the sailor out of the cabaret. When the sailor returns with the police, the cabaret’s magician hides Rath in the cellar containing his students. He chases them out of the club and then is given drinks to calm his nerves. While he’s getting loaded, Lola begins to sing the song synonymous with Dietrich: "Falling in Love Again".

The next morning Rath wakes up in Lola’s bed and is treated to breakfast for two. This makes him late for class. When he arrives at class he finds a student-drawn picture of him as Cupid. After he tries to punish the class they become unmanageable, which causes the headmaster to intervene. This leads to the headmaster asking for Rath’s resignation. After packing up his belongings, Rath goes to the Blue Angel to find Lola’s travelling troupe preparing to leave. He asks Lola to marry him. She laughs at him, but somehow they end up married nonetheless. The next time we see Rath, he’s selling girlie postcards at Lola’s shows. He is no longer superior to anyone in the group. As a matter of fact, he’s viewed as the lowest member in the troupe and Lola treats him like a big loser.

Four years pass and Rath has literally become the troupe’s clown. When they return to Rath’s hometown the show is sold out due to him—who wouldn’t want to see a former professor as a clown? Meanwhile, a strongman has become enamored with Lola. When Rath doesn’t want to go on stage Lola has to force him to. While being treated to eggs being broken on his head, Rath watches Lola flirt with the strongman backstage. He begins to crow like a rooster and chases Lola and tries to kill her. The strongman and others prevent this and tie Rath up in straightjacket. Once he calms down Rath is let out. In one of the bitterest endings I can think of, Rath leaves the Blue Angel hearing Lola sing "Falling in Love Again" to another man and returns to his old school. The final shot of the film sees the former professor, in spotlight, grasping his desk as bells are ringing. Depressing enough?

This film is a good example of German expressionism. It is very dark, full of symbolism, and unsentimental. The character of Professor Rath is the epitome of the German male who before the war was a hard-working respectable type, who finds himself completely destroyed in the post WWI era—there’s a reason Hitler came to power. The overall setting of the film looks grimy and depressing, as though everything needs a good cleaning. Perhaps this is why Sternberg opened the film with a woman cleaning a window.

Both Jannings and Dietrich are compelling as this oddball couple. Jannings, who was known for his histrionic performances, does a good job at being both pompous and pathetic. This was just another one of his great performances, like The Last Laugh and The Last Command. For Dietrich, however, this was the role that launched her American film career. She showed that she could be convincing as a femme fatale. Thus, she and Sternberg would go on to make a number of films capitalizing on how well she played the vamp, most notably Morocco, Dishonored, and Shanghai Express. Of course this film isn’t their greatest collaboration, but it is good nonetheless.

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Pandora’s Box (Die Büchse der Pandora) 1929 ***

If you are familiar with Greek mythology then you know that Pandora’s Box was a large jar that contained many terrible things about mankind within—ills, toils, sickness, and hope. What most people don’t know is that when Pandora opened that jar she unleashed other horrors, most notably any film starring Pauley Shore or Rob Schneider.

Perhaps the best silent film ever (at least in my opinion), this 1929 G.W. Pabst masterpiece stars Louise Brooks as Lulu, a beautiful temptress who has the uncanny ability of ruining men. When we first meet Lulu she is the mistress of media mogul Schon. Lulu also has some strange relationship with a man who is her father, a former pimp, or both. Either way, she gives this Schigolch money. He proposes that she go on stage with his friend Rodrigo, but Schon doesn’t like this idea. Instead he asks his son, Alwa, to make Lulu the star of his song and dance show.

You know the saying "don’t look a gift horse in the mouth", well Lulu should have heeded it. After getting her a job, Schon tells Lulu he must end their affair because he is getting married. Lulu is not pleased—not Glenn Close unpleased, but angry nonetheless. As oblivious (or callous) as most men, Schon thinks it would be a good idea to bring his fiancée to the opening night of the show. Lulu refuses to go on stage and Schon orders her to do so. She says she won’t unless he comes back to her. He weakens and gives her a kiss just as his fiancée comes backstage. The wedding is off and Schon resigns himself to marrying Lulu. Immediately following the ceremony, Schon comes to believe that only misery lies ahead. He decides to kill himself and begs Lulu to kill herself, too. They struggle over the gun and when it goes off Schon is dead.

Next thing you know, Lulu is on trial for murder. This is where the title of the film comes from. The prosecution portrays Lulu as a modern Pandora, who unleashed destruction on Schon through her sexuality. Just as she is convicted of murder Alwa sets off a fire alarm, allowing her to escape. Why? Because Alwa knows she’s not guilty and is in love with her. Lulu convinces Alwa to arrange for her and her posse, Rodrigo and Schigolch, to escape to Paris. On the train to Paris they are recognized by a man who offers them a place on his gambling ship.

Months later we find the group broke due to Alwa gambling away all their money. If this isn’t bad enough, Rodrigo starts blackmailing Lulu for money so he can start his own variety show. Oh, but the bad times aren’t over yet, because the owner of the boat decides to sell Lulu to an Egyptian brothel owner—yes, this film was made in 1929! Fortunately for Lulu her lesbian friend the Countess Geschwitz loans her money. Unfortunately she gives the money to Alwa who uses it to cheat at cards—he’s caught and the boat erupts into a melee. The group escapes in the chaos and goes to London.

What awaits in the City of Fog is abject poverty, complete misery, and Jack the Ripper. On Christmas Eve, Schigolch decides he must have Christmas pudding. But how to pay for it? Lulu must hit the streets and find some customers. She picks up Jack the Ripper—so lucky is Lulu! Evidently Lulu can even tame serial killers because just as he’s about to kill her he drops his hidden knife. Run, Lulu, run! Nope. They go back to his room and Jack can’t resist the urge to use the knife—no more Lulu.

What makes this film so great is Brooks’ performance. When most people think of this film they don’t remember it as being a silent. This is due to the very natural and powerful way that Brooks acts in the film. She oozes sensuality and confidence. When Lulu wants something or someone she uses this very intense gaze that somehow gets her what she wants. She is the perfect fit to the overall theme of the film: woman as the victim of male sexuality. When she is the kept woman of a millionaire things seem great—she has nice clothes, a swanky apartment. But because she’s not the type of woman you marry she gets a consolation prize: a theater career. Then, when Schon can’t give her up and marries her she gets the blame when he kills himself. Due to this she has to take Alwa as her protector. Because he is a complete incompetent she finds herself up for sale to a brothel and making deals with lesbians. Next thing you know she’s reduced to common streetwalking to meet the needs of Alwa and Schigolch. This of course results in her death by a man driven by pathological sexual urges. I would rate Brooks’ performance in this film as the greatest in silent film history and one of the all-time greatest female performances in the 100+ years of cinema.

It is difficult to believe this film was made in 1929 because of its daring storyline. Fortunately the film was made a few years prior to the Hay’s Code because it would have never been approved for viewing in the USA. Another reason it’s hard to believe this was made in 1929 is because it doesn’t seem dated at all. The story seems relevant and believable by today’s standards.

This is a must see for all silent film fans, but anyone who loves intense cinematic storytelling should also watch it. A true cinematic gem.

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The Man with the Movie Camera (Chelovek s kino-apparatom) 1929 *1/2

No, I don’t mean the one who asked you to do a screen test in the San Fernando Valley.

Dziga Vertov directs this experimental 1929 silent documentary (and Soviet propagandistic) film. There is no linear plot or narrative and there are no actors in this 80 min. film. There are many people who like this film because of the many cinematic techniques used by Vertov. I am not what you would call an “arty” person, so films like this one just don’t interest me—they just give me a headache. I just don’t like to watch footage played backward or fast motion shots.
The life of the common Soviet citizen is on display here. Machines, and how people interact with them, are somewhat glorified in many shots. In addition, the omnipresence of the camera is strongly stressed by Vertov. The best example I can think of from this film is the shot of a baby emerging from between a mother’s legs.

Vertov belonged to a group of filmmakers known as the Kino-glaz (Cine-Eye), who wanted to rid the world of fiction in film—to them the documentary was the only valid film style. To say that many filmmakers of the time hated this group would be an understatement. Before watching this film audiences had to read a statement from Vertov that said the film was “directed towards the creation of an authentically international absolute language of cinema – ABSOLUTE KINOGRAPHY – on the basis of its complete separation from the language of theatre and literature." In my opinion, if you need a warning like this in the beginning of your film there might be a problem.

This is the second of the 1001 movies I had to see before I died that I wish I hadn’t.

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Blackmail (1929) **

Hitchcock would have hated CSI.

Although originally begun as a silent, this 1929 Hitchcock classic became the first British “all-talkie” after Hitch convinced producers that he could make great use of the new innovation. One problem though—the leading lady, Anny Ondra, was a Czech who spoke limited English. Oh, that tricky Hitch! To overcome this difficulty Hitchcock had Ondra mouth her lines while an off-camera Joan Barry spoke the lines. Sound familiar? Think Lina Lamont in Singing in the Rain.

The story revolves around Detective Frank Webber (John Longden) and his girlfriend Alice White (Ondra). After instigating an argument with Frank in order to meet up with an artist (Cyril Ritchard), Alice goes to the artist’s flat and shamelessly flirts with him. Showing immense gullibility, Alice agrees to try on a dress for him. While she’s doing this he’s hiding her dress. When she comes out he attempts to rape her. Alice grabs a knife and stabs him to death. As the girlfriend of a detective she knows she needs to cover her tracks, so she tries to erase any traces of her presence. Oops…she leaves a glove. Yet another good reason not to wear gloves anymore!

One of the more memorable scenes takes place at Alice’s breakfast table the next morning. In a textbook Hitchcock scene, Alice nearly has a breakdown as she stares at a knife on the breakfast table while her family obliviously jabbers on. Most of the words in this conversation are inaudible, but when the word “knife” is said it comes out crystal clear.

As coincidence would have it, Frank is assigned to the artist murder case. He finds Alice’s glove and decides to hide it. After confronting Alice with this information, the couple is shocked to learn that someone saw Alice at the flat. Tracey (Donald Calthrop), a petty thief, attempts to blackmail the couple. Too bad for Tracy he is identified by someone else as having been at the flat. He becomes the main suspect and is chased onto the roof of the British Museum, where he is killed. A guilty Alice goes to Scotland Yard to confess, but Frank prevents her. You know this film was made before the Hays Code, because they had some pesky rule that said people couldn’t get away with crimes—think The Letter. Not that I’m saying what Alice did was a crime, because that letch got what was coming to him. But, I suspect if this film had been made in 1935 Alice would have confessed and everything would have worked out in the end.

I like this film, but it isn’t my favorite Hitchcock film. It is suspenseful and has a number of trademark Hitchcock elements—specifically the breakfast and phone booth scenes. The story is gripping and the acting is pretty good, too. While he took a risk by making a talkie, the way Hitchcock uses dialogue, sometimes audible sometimes inaudible, was very clever.

An entertaining introduction (along with The Lodger) to Hitchcock.

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