Hidden Treasures - Week of May 4th

Here’s the latest installment of Hidden Treasures.

Manhattan (1979)
Woody Allen’s Manhattan is funny, touching, warm and romantic, not to mention quite artistic and beautiful to the eye. Isaac Davis (played by Allen) is a disillusioned television writer who’s just learned that his lesbian ex-wife, Jill (Meryl Streep), is writing an expose on their marriage. To add insult to injury, Isaac’s current love life is in turmoil; he’s dating Tracy (Mariel Hemingway), a teenager who, quite surprisingly, may just be the perfect companion. Yet despite the fact she’s extremely mature for a girl of seventeen, Isaac believes Tracy’s age is an issue, and refuses to make any solid plans regarding their future together. Not to be outdone, Isaac’s best friend, Yale (Michael Murphy), has recently started dating Mary (Diane Keaton), despite the fact he’s happily married to Emily (Anne Byrne). Before it’s over, Isaac will have made a very important discovery about the nature of romance, but will this revelation occur in time to save him from a life of loneliness? Set to the romantic music of George Gershwin, Manhattan is itself a romanticized vision of the city in which it takes place. In the film’s opening scene, Isaac is dictating possible opening passages for his new book into a tape recorder, passages that paint an almost ideal image of New York, the city he loves. While he’s busy doing this, we’re treated to a picturesque montage of life in the city, from the impressive skyline right down to the urban decay that plagues its streets. In fact, some of the most memorable sequences in Manhattan feature the city almost exclusively. In what is perhaps the film’s most breathtaking scene, Isaac and Mary, who have spent the night talking, sit on a park bench early in the morning, watching the sun come up behind the 59th Street Bridge. It is a mythical scene, yet is merely one of many such inspiring images from the film. While Manhattan is a funny, sobering look at the nature of relationships, it is also a film about New York. The city is more than just a setting; it’s one of the main characters.

Badlands (1973)
Through an unlikely combination of random violence and poetic narration, Terence Malick’s Badlands constructs a singular tale of two young lovers who set out looking to kill some time, and end up killing innocent people instead. Based on the 1958 Starkweather homicides and set against the backdrop of the American Midwest, Badlands introduces us to Kit Carruthers (Martin Sheen), a 25-year-old garbage collector whose only claim to fame is that he looks a lot like James Dean. One day, Kit meets Holly (Sissy Spacek), a baton-twirling teenager whom he falls instantly in love with. When Holly’s widowed father (Warren Oates) refuses to allow the relationship to blossom, Kit shoots him and sets their house on fire in order to hide all traces of the crime. At first horrified by Kit’s actions, Holly nonetheless agrees to go with him, and the two wind up driving cross-country, leaving a trail of dead bodies in their wake. As seen through the eyes of Holly, who acts as the film’s narrator, Kit’s killing spree is both exciting and romantic, yet with the law only one step behind, both realize that the good times may be coming to an end. I can’t honestly say that I was immediately smitten the first time I saw Badlands. In fact, I reacted quite negatively to the whole narration format, which to me felt a bit out of place, as if colliding rather abruptly, perhaps even clumsily, with the story at hand. While hiding out in the woods after the murder of her father, Holly fills the time by waxing poetic about the wilderness. “I grew to love the forest, “ she says, “the cooin’ of the doves and the hum of dragonflies in the air made it always lonesome, like everybody’s dead and gone”. Certainly not the diatribe one would expect from a girl on the run and in the company of a murderer, yet I came to realize that, while Holly’s narration may seem detached from the story at hand, it’s this detachment that gives Badlands it’s center; creating a world where violence and poetry exist in perfect unison. Through bloodshed, Kit is leaving his mark, while Holly, by way of her observations, is, in essence, creating an alternate universe for them to live in, one where everything is perfect. Kit and Holly lived their lives as outsiders, seeking a place in the world. In the end they found it in each other.

Excalibur (1981)
In the commentary track available on the Excalibur DVD, director John Boorman admits to being “obsessed” with the Arthurian legend, stating he tried for twenty years to bring this story to the screen. As far as I’m concerned, the resulting film was well worth the wait. Aside from being the best filmed version of the legend of King Arthur that I’ve ever seen, Boorman’s Excalibur also manages to surprisingly deglamorize the story, relating it all in a brutal, honest manner. With Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur as a base, Excalibur recounts the legend of King Arthur (Nigel Terry) who, with his sword Excalibur at his side, united the kingdoms of England under a single rule. Many of the legend’s high points are here, including the wizard Merlin (Nicol Williamson), who watches over Arthur to ensure he fulfills his destiny, as well as the doomed love affair between Arthur’s queen, Guenivere (Cherie Lunghi), and his most trusted knight, Lancelot (Nicholas Clay). Before long, Arthur’s kingdom is threatened by a terrible evil. Having used witchcraft to seduce Arthur, the King’s half-sister, Morgana (Helen Mirren), bears him a son, the treacherous Mordred (Robert Addie). With a lust for power and Morgana’s magic to assist him, Mordred sets his sights on Arthur’s throne, and Arthur must ride to war against his only son to protect the kingdom he struggled to unite. The world of Arthur and his Knights as it exists in Excalibur is filled with deceitfulness, adultery and murder. Even the supernatural forces that control this world, the magic and spells conjured up to aid the knights, are, at times, quite treacherous. The legend of King Arthur is steeped in honor, glory and chivalry, yet Excalibur also reminds us that Arthur’s reign occurred during the Dark Ages, when war and bloodshed were the rules of the day. It is a film of immense atmosphere, creating a world where darkness prevails over light (an obvious parallel to the characters of this tale, who strive for perfection in an imperfect world). For these Knights of the Round Table, there is only the cruel reality that chivalry and honor cannot exist without evil in the world. It’s an evil that might consume them all in the end.