Volume 10 - Rear Window and the Well-Intentioned Voyeur

Last week we kicked off Alfred Hitchcock Month! with a lot of speculation and a big leap of faith. On the other hand, this week's double feature is one of the easiest I'll ever pick. In fact, the only challenge in putting this double feature together will be stopping me from rambling forever about how much I love these movies.

Why do I think it's going to be hard for me to contain my enthusiasm about these movies, you ask? Well, it's because we're starting off with my favorite movie. Ever. Of all of them. The one I would chase through the gates of hell, and fight my way back to heaven with.

See? I'm gonna get loopy writing this. So let's stop introducing it and start talking about it.

HOW THIS WORKS
Step 1) I pick a movie.
Step 2) I tell you about the movie.
Step 3) I tell you what we're looking for in a double feature movie.
Step 4) Another movie!
Step 5) Victory!

Rear Window

1954, Directed by Alfred Hitchcock

I was 12 years old when I first saw Rear Window, and I immediately knew it was something special in my life. I don't think it became my favorite movie that day - at the time I'm not sure I even had a favorite movie, though it might still have been The Adventures of Milo and Otis (It's really cute, you guys!) - but I immediately identified with it on a personal level. It felt like what I wanted my life to be, with a few cosmetic changes. It was also the first Alfred Hitchcock film I saw, and that set me loose to keep visiting the man who would become my favorite director forever.

I was always looking for strange things as a kid. I've talked in the past about my (most likely imagined) run in with a UFO, and how easily influenced I was by ghost stories and the idea that something strange could be going on around us. You might say I had a wild imagination, but really I was just hoping for something a bit more interesting than going to school and working on our hog farm with my dad. So I started watching everything around me a little more closely. The problem was we lived in the middle of the country; there wasn't much to look at that wasn't pigs and corn.

This is not a problem that was shared by L.B. Jefferies, a.k.a. Jeff (James Stewart), the lead character of Rear Window. Jeff lives in busy New York City, and there's a lot going on in his world. His problem is that he's stuck in a wheelchair with a broken leg - which means that he can see what's going on around him, but when it comes to his ability to interact with it he might as well be living in the middle of nowhere too.

Looking out the rear window (Hey, that's the title!) of his apartment, Jeff can see into the lives of most of the neighbors that live across the small courtyard below. They're a unique bunch of individuals, ranging from the ballet dancer Miss Torso to the eternally longing Miss Lonelyhearts to the songwriter who gets his inspiration "from the landlord, twice a month." None of these names or personalities are the ones these characters claim, they're just what Jeff sees and assumes while sitting in a chair all day. For all we know, Miss Torso might be a really flexible astrophysicist. But we aren't seeing her world through her eyes. We're seeing it through Jeff's.

Jeff's one room world (we know he's got a kitchen and a bedroom, too, but we never see them) isn't completely boring, because there are two truly amazing characters that keep coming into it. The first is his nurse, Stella (Thelma Ritter), a fast talker who's ready to contradict Jeff at every turn, seemingly because she just really enjoys being right. Jeff has a similar problem - at one point he's accused of making an argument "intentionally repulsive" and replies by chiding that he's "only trying to make it sound good" - so his relationship with Stella becomes a wonderful back and forth that gives the film life quickly during the opening scenes.

The second character who graces Jeff's apartment with her presence is his girlfriend, Lisa Carol Fremont, a character brought to life by the unequaled talent and beauty of Grace Kelly. And when she first brings that talent and beauty to the screen, in a slow motion shot of her face swooping in to wake a sleeping Jeff with a kiss - My God. My heart stops every time I see that shot. It's the most beautiful moment in the history of film.

Lisa Carol Fremont might be a gorgeous fashion model, but - like Stella - she's quick with her words too. She argues with Jeff as well, mostly because he's convinced he needs to drive her away. What is it with all these men in movies who try to keep Grace Kelly out of their lives?

(Personal note: Having loved this movie most of my life, I like to think I learned a lot of my personality from Jeff. And while there are so many things about him that I love - his passion to never give up, his humor, his willingness to stand up (but not literally, there's a cast) against what's wrong - the one thing I wish I hadn't picked up from him was this tendency to assume you're a waste of others' time. Then again, maybe I already had that, and maybe that's part of why I relate to him so much? Who knows? Let's get back to the movie, why are we wasting time on me?)

The problem that arises from Jeff looking out that window is that he begins to believe that a salesman across the way (Raymond Burr, who many believe Hitchcock made to look like the former boss he hated, David O. Selznick, for this role) has murdered his wife. We know Jeff hasn't been sleeping right, and we know he's cooped up and hungry for adventure, and we even know he's a little bit depressed (again - he's trying to push away Grace Kelly). So it's hard to believe that he's right...but then again, this is an Alfred Hitchcock film.

It's not the argument about whether or not Jeff is right that makes Rear Window so perfect to me, though that's a real fun bit of the picture. Jeff also brings a smug friend who happens to be a detective (Wendell Corey) into the apartment, and that character seems to keep popping up in the film just to make us think Jeff really is just a guy with an overactive imagination. Lisa and Stella end up taking Jeff's side, which makes the banter with the detective even more fun when they are involved, but it's the moments where Jeff and Lisa realize they might be wrong where the movie really soars for me.

I've talked a lot about the arguing and the banter in this movie, and that's because to me this might be the film with the snappiest, most perfect dialogue ever written. I can't tell you how many throwaway lines in this film are part of my every day language. I'll call out an "ordinary run of the mill Wednesday" from time to time and point out that I'm looking for something "dramatically different" when I'm seeking a movie to watch. Sometimes I borrow some of Stella's homespun philosophy on relationships when I'm feeling blue. I might laugh more watching Rear Window than I do watching any other film, because even after all these years the dialogue is still so punchy to me. Heck, I wanted to make sure I had a quote right in my brain just now - I did, don't doubt me - and the cool thing is that I just typed two words from it into Google because I was pretty sure no one has ever used those two words together like Rear Window did. Sure enough, that quote was the first thing that popped up.

Getting back to those doubts I just mentioned - there's one piece of dialogue in the film that has blown my mind for nearly 25 years. Lisa and Jeff have just had their hopes of catching the murderer attacked again by that reasonable detective, and as they fall silent Lisa speaks up...

"Jeff, you know if someone came in here they wouldn't believe what they'd see? You and me with long faces, plunged into despair, because we find out a man didn't kill his wife. We're two of the most frightening ghouls I've ever known."

I think I fell in love with words the moment I heard Grace Kelly say that. I always liked reading and writing as a kid, but I never though that writing could produce something like that. The dread that lives in that statement, the perfect combination of sadness and humor, the self-awareness to know that you made a mistake and you're not quite sure who you are right now, but also knowing that your feelings right now are kind of a farce. Lisa and Jeff really haven't harmed anyone in this moment, but their whole situation has just been made to appear totally ridiculous and Lisa (the wisest character in the film, by far) can see right through it. John Michael Hayes got an Oscar nomination for this script, and this line alone makes me think he should have won the award and had it renamed after him. It's so perfect that it makes me say farcical things too. If that makes me a frightening ghoul, I'm freakin' proud to join the club.

I said it earlier, and I'll say it again - this is an Alfred Hitchcock film. You buy the ticket, you take the ride. And you know that ride's not going to end with everything "wrapped up in a neat little package," like the episode of The Simpsons that parodied this film (Bart of Darkness, Season 6, Episode 1) would have us believe. As Hayes and Hitchcock drive us to the final reveal there are plenty of twists and bumps, and every one of them will make people like Jeff and I and any other well-intentioned voyeur with a passionately paranoid mind grin and prepare for the next one. Rear Window keeps us involved in a murder mystery not by taking us on a cross country adventure - Hitch saved that for North by Northwest and other films - but instead by making us jump to conclusions inside our own minds as we try to understand how all the pieces of this potential murder could fit together. 

When you're a slightly ghoulish dreamer that can't go anywhere - either because you're trapped in a wheelchair or because you're a preteen on an Iowa farm - those are the kind of adventures you get to go on. Apologies to the UFOs and the ghost stories, but when I met Rear Window I realized it was the kind of adventure that - while completely implausible - could actually happen. And it inspired me to try to be quicker, to be more observant, to choose my words for their impact and not necessarily their meaning, just in case I need to make my point "sound good." I'm not sure if I understood this all when I was 12 - I've been rambling so much that I might read this back to myself and not understand it now - but I know Rear Window set my life on a new course that night. 

And that's probably why Rear Window will always be my favorite movie. It makes me want to always be prepared for anything, even when the only thing I can do might be to offer a humorous retort or a crazy theory.

One thing I learned quickly after I saw Rear Window is that it's one of the most copied films ever made. I don't mean that in a bad way - like the man said, "imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" - but it does make picking a double feature to go with it a different kind of challenge. A lot of times it's hard to pick one movie to go with a movie, this time it's hard for me to pick just one. 

• The basics of Rear Window are basically their own subgenre by now. Someone sees something, or thinks they see something, and then no one believes them. The part where a lot of films that borrow this set up fail is that they show the audience too much. You lose that joy that I got from following Jeff and Lisa's theories when you do that. Like I said above - the mystery needs to be in the lead character's head.
• The other thing that makes Rear Window so unique is Jeff's predicament. He's alone and he can't do anything. We don't necessarily need to duplicate his injury, but we need a film where the lead really can't act most of the time and where he's slightly unreliable. He needs a couple of people to bounce his ideas off of, obviously, but we can't give him too much help.
• More than anything else - we need a movie that doesn't just feel like a rehash of Rear Window. We need a movie with Hitchcock's spirit. I'm looking for something by a director and writer that has a good understanding of Hitchcock. And there's a guy out there who fits that description who might not be the one you're thinking of.

How can I follow up my favorite movie and not feel like I'm taking a gigantic step backward? Because I'm picking a movie by a director whose experience with Hitchcock started a bit like mine.

Road Games

1981, Directed by Richard Franklin

Like me, Richard Franklin was 12 years old when he saw his first Alfred Hitchcock film. Unlike me, that film wasn't Rear Window; it was Psycho. That doesn't matter though, he became devoted to Alfred Hitchcock too. The Australian born Franklin took a more direct approach to his fandom - he became a filmmaker. He ended up making his way to the University of Southern California in 1967, and during his time at the Los Angeles based university he managed to get Alfred Hitchcock himself to come host a screening of one of his films, Rope. Then, Hitchcock invited Franklin to come watch him work on set while he was making one of his final films, Topaz.

If that paragraph makes you insanely jealous, you're not alone. Imagine being a young filmmaker and not only being able to talk film with Alfred Hitchcock but also being able to watch Alfred Hitchcock work. I know a lot of people will warn you about meeting your heroes, but man I would love to have been in Richard Franklin's shoes. Franklin went on to direct the long overdue Psycho II in 1983, and the work he did making what appeared to be an unnecessary cash in into a truly entertaining film is enough to earn him my eternal admiration. And that's not even the best tribute to Hitchcock he made.

Franklin returned to his home country after school, and worked his way up to making features by the end of the 1970s. In 1981 he made one of the most expensive Australian films of the time - Road Games. 

The simple way to describe Road Games is as "Rear Window in a Semi," but that's a disservice to Franklin's film. The set up is similar - Quid (Stacy Keach), who's driving a truck full of pork across Australia, begins to believe that another driver on the road is killing hitchhikers - and starts to try to solve the case. Unlike Jeff, we see in the opening scenes that this unnamed man - Quid refers to him as simply "Smith or Jones" - is a killer, but we also know that Quid doesn't know this.

Keach will probably never be listed next to James Stewart on many lists of actors in cinema history, but his performance as Quid is a one of a kind treat. Like Jeff, Quid's mind is open to all kinds of possibilities. He's been sleeping in his truck, the only soul he has to talk to most of the time is his pet dingo, and as he drives across the country he starts to come up with stories about the people he passes on the road. Some of these characters draw a direct parallel to Rear Window's - though Franklin's picture of how newlyweds act in 1981 is a bit more direct than Hitchcock's was in 1954 - which makes it even easier to see the influence Hitchcock had on this director.

But Quid is an angrier (If you call him a truck driver he'll snap back with "Just because I drive a truck does not make me a truck driver.") and more active character than Jeff. He's obviously more physically active - he can get out of the truck and walk around, but he's still facing a deadline that keeps him confined to the truck for most of the film - and he's also more mentally active. Road Games gives Quid a couple of people to talk to - most notably an American hitchhiker played by Jamie Lee Curtis (another significant Hitchcock connection, since she's the daughter of the star of Psycho) that Quid playful refers to as "Hitch" - but Keach is at his best when Franklin puts him behind the wheel and lets the thoughts that are running through his mind fill our ears.

As viewers, we know Quid is right about Mr. Smith or Jones. But watching him go through the facts and hearing what's going through his mind, especially once Hitch becomes part of the game of cat and mouse between the two drivers, pushes the tension in Road Games to wonderful levels. Franklin comes up with a brilliant trick to render Quid immobile during the final showdown, and by that point we don't need the mystery about whether or not he's right to keep us caught up in this film.

When you look at the films that have imitated Rear Window, there are examples that resemble it more directly. One of the most recent examples is Disturbia, a procedural 2007 thriller starring young Shia LaBeouf. Credit where due, Disturbia didn't drive me crazy as a Rear Window wannabe. Any movie that allows David Morse that much sinister screentime is worth something. But it's a movie where someone who loves Rear Window is going to look at it and say "Oh, it's just a movie that's doing Rear Window." That's not a crime, and it's kind of exciting. I remember seeing the trailer for Disturbia the first time and, after an initial moment of shock, thinking how cool it was that people were still wanting to be like my favorite movie more than 50 years later. But the cool thing about Road Games is not that it wants to be like Rear Window; it's that it wants to be like Rear Window and still manages to be funny and ghoulish and thrilling and actually feel like something Alfred Hitchcock would have made.

Richard Franklin got a direct line to Hitchcock while learning his trade, and he was able to use it perfectly in this film. He didn't just make a film that reminds me of my favorite film, he made a film that reminds me of my favorite film and manages to be one of my favorite films on its own merits as well.

I don't know if it's a requirement to be 12 years old to fall in love with Hitchcock and decide to devote a large portion of your life to loving Hitchcock's films, but I'm glad Richard Franklin was able to do it and you probably don't need me to say by now that I'm glad that it happened to me. Rear Window has been a defining piece of my personality - heck, it's a defining piece of my life - for more than two decades, and Road Games just happened to follow along behind it and become a perfect companion piece to it.

This might be my favorite double feature of all-time, guys. As Stella would say, Rear Window and Road Games are two great movies about "a pair of maladjusted misfits," and they make me want to be one of those, too. 

Volume 7 - High Noon and the Man Against The World

Last week we talked about what happens when a man is lonely, this week we're going to look at what happens when a man is alone. They sound like the same thing, but there's a pretty big difference. We all feel alone sometimes. We usually aren't - there's usually someone who would back us up if we asked, sometimes we're just stubborn as hell - but it's alright to feel that way from time to time. And sometimes it's pretty cathartic to watch someone who actually is on their own fighting for what's right.

Those lonely guys we last talked about were concerned with matters of love, but the guys that are alone this week are concerned with honor and justice. I would say that they're two pretty manly guys, especially by Hollywood standards, but as I watched both of these flicks this week I found myself less interested in their toughness or strength than I was in their compassion and integrity. These are my kind of men, and they make for one heck of a double feature.

HOW THIS WORKS
Step 1) I pick a movie.
Step 2) I tell you about the movie.
Step 3) I tell you what we're looking for in a double feature movie.
Step 4) Another movie!
Step 5) Victory!

High Noon

1952, Directed by Fred Zinneman

I get that it's dated, and I get that it's slight, and I know we've all heard that stupid (but kind of true) argument that it's ridiculous that a man would ever walk away from Grace Kelly when he could be with Grace Kelly. But I love those things about High Noon. It's a movie about a simple time in a simple place where things get really complicated. And the man at the center of it, Will Kane, is the walking embodiment of honor and justice.

Quick recap for those unfamiliar with the plot. Gary Cooper stars as U.S. Marshal Will Kane - who has one of the great cinema names, and not just because I can imagine Jim Ross shouting "BY GOD IT'S KANE!" while watching it - who has just quit his job, married Grace Kelly, and is moving on to a new life as a shopkeeper. Except that three goons he has bad blood with are waiting at the nearby train station. Waiting for a fourth goon, Frank Miller, and he's a goon that Kane sent to prison for murder. He's coming in on the noon train, and once the people of the town know this, they're convinced that Kane needs to move on and leave them alone so he doesn't get killed and get them killed with him.

This seems like a good idea to everyone except Will Kane. Kane knows that the town will suffer if Frank Miller and his crew are back, and he knows that most of the people he's leaving behind - including a hotshot deputy (a young Lloyd Bridges) and the retired Marshal that trained him (an old Lon Chaney, Jr.) won't be able to help the town. So Kane decides to stay and fight, because he assumes the town is worth saving and will help him out.

The first assumption might be true, but as we watch the film unfold in real time we quickly realize that the second assumption is false. Kane gets blank stares and even laughs when he asks the men in the town's saloon to stand with him, and his past co-workers are either too scared or too bitter to work with him. The film hits its stride when Kane interrupts a church service to ask for help, and the men and women of the church engage in a heated debate on whether it is right or wrong to stand and fight. Over the years this scene has been slightly tainted by being perfectly spoofed in Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles, but it really is a perfect portrait of how indecisive people can be when faced with something they fear. All these people see the problem, they just don't know if it's worth risking their safe existence to do something about it. Sounds a lot like some of our modern voters in the United States...but that's a different story for a different day.

As the morning goes on, we realize that people are starting to look at Will Kane like he's the one in the wrong, as if his willingness to stand up for them is an inconvenience. There's a great moment where a child who's playing on the streets runs into Kane while not paying attention, and horror fans will quickly recognize Kane's the child's shock as Kane reaches out to stop him. Noted western fan John Carpenter mimicked this shot perfectly when he had a youngster run into the grasp of Michael Myers while leaving school in Halloween, which makes it that much easier for today's viewer to see just how much the townspeople looked at Kane's actions as the dangerous movements of some kind of boogeyman.

High Noon builds a perfect crescendo as it moves through its 85 minute run time, because the more people turn their back on Kane, the closer we get to the train arriving and a showdown in the dusty streets. Cooper shows more and more determination and just gets the most wonderful angry look on his face as it builds. When the battle starts we all know it can only end one way - this was Hollywood in 1952, come on now - but I'm still on the edge of my seat as we see it play out. It's not fair how cool Will Kane is. Everyone in town doesn't want him to make their lives better, and he does it anyway. For no reward.

Except, of course, Grace Kelly. If she's the only person who will stand with you, you clearly did something right.

It seems a little obvious what we're looking for as a double feature here, but let's take one more look at a few things about High Noon and see how we can build off of them.

• One of my favorite things about Gary Cooper's performance as Will Kane is the way he walks. He's got such poise and he's an imposing figure, but he also walks with this metered cadence that makes him seem larger than life. It felt a little weird comparing him to Michael Myers earlier, but it's the same kind of walk. We need a double feature where our lone warrior has that kind of presence.
• The town Kane is trying to save almost seems to want him to fail, like they have something to lose if their existence is challenged by his actions. There's something about watching a film where we know the hero is in the right and we also know no one in the film seems to care. In the case of the second movie we're going to talk about, we'll see an example of what happens when the town is actively working against the morals of our hero to try and save themselves.
• The western setting of High Noon makes it pretty obvious that Kane and the town are far from anyone else who can help him figure out this situation. I don't think we necessarily need a double feature where the hero is completely secluded from the world, but there's something cool about being a viewer and knowing that help from the outside probably isn't coming. 
• I'm not partial to the police as heroes, and it makes me smile that High Noon makes the clear distinction that Kane is acting as a man, not as an officer of the law, when he decides to stand up and fight. The message this sends is clear - right and wrong are bigger than any badge or any code. 

I had a different plan for this double feature when I started thinking about it, but the more I looked at Cooper's performance the more I thought of another Hollywood heavyweight who has made a career out of being an underdog. His most famous performances could have fit into this double feature with a little work, but it's one of his most atypical leading roles that really meshes perfectly with what the classic western we've been talking about has to offer.

Cop Land

1997, Directed by James Mangold

When we meet Will Kane we can quickly tell he's an honored and respected lawman (until he learns that he isn't). The same can not be said for Freddy Heflin, played by Sylvester Stallone, when we first see him playing pinball in a dirty bar in a New Jersey town. Freddy is the sheriff of Garrison, NJ, a (fictional) small town populated by other police officers who work across the river in New York City. Freddy can't get a job as an NYC cop after losing hearing in one ear while saving a woman from a car accident, so instead he's the guy who deals with speeding tourists and unlawful dumping of garbage while the rest of the town works in the city.

The people in Garrison do seem to respect Freddy, but we can also tell that they do so mostly because they know he's not a threat to them. Stallone, famous for his turns as the all-american boxer and action movie tough guy, portrays Freddy as the kind of simple, sympathetic character he hadn't really played since the first Rocky film. He's a nice guy, everyone likes him, and they're even willing to stand up for him when he crashes his car into a tree while driving home from the bar drunk. But we quickly learn that the reason they leave Freddy in charge is because Freddy's mostly oblivious to everything that's going on in Garrison.

(Random bit of trivia I made up because it's not on IMDB, but is possibly true: Freddy Heflin shares a surname with an actor who starred in several westerns and police dramas, Van Heflin. One of his most respected performances, as a lawman similar to Will Kane and Freddy, was in the 1957 western 3:10 to Yuma. 3:10 to Yuma was remade in 2007 and directed by James Mangold, who directed Cop Land. This makes too much sense to not be intentional. Remind me to tweet Mangold about it later.)

The man who's really in charge of Garrison is Ray Donlan, a well-respected veteran of the force played by Harvey Keitel. He likes Freddy - at one point he even puts in a good word for trying to get Freddy a better job across the river - but he's also involved in a lot of shady business. Most notably, Donlan and some of his police brethren have helped fake the death of his nephew, a young cop who was involved in an unjustified killing during an accident, and now are working to hide their crimes under Freddy's nose. 

Freddy probably wouldn't have noticed anything if he truly was a man against the world, but he knows Gary Figgis. Figgis, played marvelously by Ray Liotta, is a complete mess with a drug habit and a house that gets blown up suspiciously, and as he unravels he becomes the person who motivates Freddy to look more closely at the things around him by shouting wonderful things like "Being right is not a bulletproof vest, Freddy!"  Soon the slouching Sheriff seems to be walking around with his head cocked upward, suspicious of everyone and everything around him. As he learns more about the nefarious actions of the officers that live in Garrison, he starts to realize he has to do something. 

In one of the film's best scenes, Freddy turns to NYC Internal Affairs investigator Moe Tilden (played by Robert De Niro), who had come to him earlier in the film trying to get information, but Tilden refuses to offer any help. This leads to one of my favorite exchanges in the film, as Tilden reminds Freddy that sometimes the help you seek is conditional.

"You came to me, to my town...with all these speeches, talking to me about doing the right thing. I'm doing the right thing. What's goin' on? What are you doing?"

"That was like two weeks ago."

Without the assistance of the NYPD, and with Figgis facing his own problems, Freddy Heflin's battle against the corruption in his town starts to crescendo just like Will Kane's did. The biggest difference here is that the people of Garrison don't really think Freddy is up to it, and thus they don't really try to hurt him physically at first. Donlan and his crew think they can break Freddy's spirit, and even when push comes to shove they attempt to injure and incapacitate Freddy. They think he'll give up and go back to turning his back on their actions. You might be able to guess how this one ends too, because that doesn't sound like something Stallone would do.

Cop Land is a grittier tale of standing up against those that threaten your morals than High Noon was, but boy does it do a great job of it. Stallone might give his best performance outside a Rocky film, and the fact that he gained 40 pounds eating pancakes to become Freddy only makes him that much more lovable to someone like me who loves pancakes and who needed an excuse to mention pancakes in something he wrote two weeks in a row. Liotta might give his best performance too, and that's an achievement considering his wonderful career. They play off each other so well, and everyone else in the film is better because of it.

Watching Cop Land twenty years after its release, it's hard to believe this movie isn't talked about more often. It rushes the finale a little, but the performances are so rich and it's one of the more unique corrupt cop films of its time. Now that Stallone is back to being an Oscar nominee (should have been a winner, but we all know those voters can't get ANYTHING right) maybe it'll find a new audience. It's not as iconic as High Noon, but it definitely gives us one of the more unique heroes of the action movie era.

Will Kane and Freddy Heflin stand tall because they believe in what they're doing and they're not willing to sacrifice their convictions, even when it threatens their lives. We could all learn a lot from these guys. Hopefully we don't need to pick up a gun and take on the people who threaten our existence, but maybe we need to be reminded that standing up for what is right is something you have to do, even if no one else will do it. These guys do that, and that's what makes this a perfect double feature for me. If you feel alone in your personal battle with life, I hope you too can find a hero, or two, who reminds you to keep standing tall.

Volume 6 - Marty and the Struggle to Believe in True Love

Last week we talked about having faith in aliens or God or the devil, so this week we're gonna talk about another topic some people don't believe in: true love. There are some people who found true love, and I'm so proud of them for it, but there are also a lot of people who are struggling with it. And I get it.  I understand how easy it's to give up on the existence of true love - If Chris Pratt and Anna Faris can't make it work forever then how the hell can anyone else? - and I understand more than most how difficult it is to keep the faith in love. But I don't care. Tonight, we're gonna try to believe in it.

The thing that nobody tells you about love when you're growing up is that if you don't end up finding it, you also don't end up learning how to do it. I guess you learn things from people like Cary Grant or John Cusack in the movies, but sometimes those people don't give the best advice for the real world. Especially if you're not as good looking as Cary Grant or as tenaciously romantic as John Cusack or if you just have any of the other problems that us humans are susceptible to. If you're like me, you might run into these problems, stumble through a few attempts, get dispirited, and then just build your own little world and miss the opportunities that are right in front of your face because you're too scared to do it again.

Building your own little world works for some people, so why would they continue to believe in true love when failure is so damaging? I'm not sure, but I think there are reasons to believe. Thankfully for those who don't want to hear much more about my failures - that last paragraph got a bit too personal, Michael - there are a couple of movies I was thinking about this week that help me remember that there's still a chance for people to find love, even if they never learned how. They just gotta believe.

This one goes out to the lonely lovers out there, wherever you are...

HOW THIS WORKS
Step 1) I pick a movie.
Step 2) I tell you about the movie.
Step 3) I tell you what we're looking for in a double feature movie.
Step 4) Another movie!
Step 5) Victory!

Marty

1955, Directed by Delbert Mann

When it comes to down on their luck folks looking for love, it's possible that no one on film has ever ended up luckier than Marty. A brisk 90 minute romance starring Ernest Borgnine doesn't sound like the kind of film that would win best picture at the Academy Awards, especially in the middle of the 1950s. Yet, in a year where Nicholas Ray and Alfred Hitchcock and Douglas Sirk and Billy Wilder were making films, it won not only Best Picture but also Best Actor, Best Director (Delbert Mann, remaking his own TV play as his feature debut), and Best Screenplay (Paddy Chayefsky). 

Why on Earth would audiences and critics flock to this little movie? Because they believe in true love, and that's what Marty is selling.

Borgnine stars as Marty Piletti, a 34 year old self-described "kind of a stocky guy" working in a New York City butcher shop and living with his mother. He's the only one of his siblings that isn't married yet. We know this right away, because every character Marty meets at the butcher's counter wants to know when he's getting married.

Marty is not immune to this. Marty wants to get married too. But he also feels like he's been passed over forever, and he's had enough of it. When his mother starts asking about why he's not going out looking for a girl on a Saturday night, Marty lets out a fantastic tirade.

"Sooner or later, there comes a point in a man's life when he gotta face some facts, and one fact I gotta face is that whatever it is that women like, I ain't got it. I chased enough girls in my life. I went to enough dances. I got hurt enough. I don't wanna get hurt no more. I just called a girl just now, and I got a real brush-off, boy. I figured I was past the point of being hurt, but that hurt. Some stupid woman who I didn't even wanna call up. She gave me the brush. I don't wanna go to the Stardust Ballroom because all that ever happened to me there was girls made me feel like I was a bug. I got feelings, you know. I had enough pain. No, thank you."

Marty then goes to the Stardust Ballroom. No one makes him go, he goes on his own accord. Why? Because he's a believer.

Waiting for him at that ballroom is a young woman named Clara. He doesn't know it, and neither does she. She shows up to the ballroom having been set up on a double date with the kind of guy who makes people like Marty and I think that most men should be shot out of a cannon into the ocean. This guy apparently only has one Saturday off every three weeks, and he expected his friend to set him up with something "better." In fact, he offers Marty five dollars to help him walk out on Clara. Marty, because he's amazing, is upset and rebukes this offer. The other guy, who doesn't deserve to even have a name, doesn't care and walks out on Clara anyway.

There's no specific explanation given for why Marty ends up consoling Clara and asking her to dance, and that's one of the more beautiful things about the film. We already know that Marty is guided by his heart, we don't need him to explain it. We knew the intentions of the other guy (who I hope is slowly roasting over a flame somewhere) and we know Marty's mindset, so we aren't surprised at all when he takes the chance to do what's right.

What follows is, in the simplest terms, adorable. Marty starts to smile as they dance. He asks her to go get something to eat. As they walk, he talks. He talks a lot. He talks way too much. He talks about his whole life. He realizes he's talking too much, shouting "I can't stop talking! Isn't this stupid!?" and before Clara can get a word in he adds "You got a real nice face, you know? It's a real nice face." Marty's gone. There's no going back for him. He's fallen for Clara hard.

For the rest of the night, it's a whole new world for both of them. Clara is clearly enamored with Marty, who suddenly seems so alive and vibrant. She smiles from ear to ear as he tells stories about his time in the war and consoles him as he tells of some of the worst times in his life. He lets her talk about her life and clearly is attracted to her, and it seems like things are going to be just right for both of them immediately. But things don't stay perfect all the time, as both share their doubts and fears. The most frightening moment is when the night almost ends because Marty asks for a kiss and Clara isn't quite ready yet. Marty lashes out angrily, and while he's not right to do so, it's easy to see why he does.

After years and years of looking for an answer, he's got one in front of him. The mistake Marty makes is looking for an immediate magic answer, because he's been told so many times and felt inside himself so many times that he can't miss any more opportunities. This is one of the cardinal mistakes that lonely people make, and Clara is totally justified in her response to him. I'm thankful that Chayefsky and Mann are better at handling what comes next as filmmakers than I am, because we got real close to this being one of those missed chances for them. 

Marty, the film, only rides the roller coaster of new love for a couple of days in the life of Marty and Clara, but it sure does a wonderful job of hitting all the ups and downs on that ride. For someone like me, who's only visited the outskirts of true love, that's a lot of fun to see. It leaves me with hope. Now I gotta find another hopeful film to go with it. Here's what I'm looking for

• Marty works partially because Borgnine doesn't look like a romantic Hollywood leading man. Borgnine was 38 years old and had a reputation for playing "heavies" during his short time in Hollywood before this film. We want another film with a lead who we wouldn't necessarily expect to be the star of a Hollywood romance.
• There are a lot of obstacles that Marty faces, and one that sticks out to me is how he's a guy working an average job in a big city. The big city aspect really helps sell the drama of his quest for love to a small town guy like me, because he's facing a lot of competition and the window of opportunity for finding love seems that much smaller.
• Because of these obstacles, Marty feels like his time is running out. We need another movie where our fool in love is facing that kind of pressure.
• Like the guy in the opening, Marty doesn't really know what he's doing. He doesn't have the experience, and the advice he's been getting isn't always the best. So when he does get the chance to make an expression, he stumbles over his words and almost pushes things too far in desperation. Maybe I'm just rooting for the home team - aka, ME - here, but I want another film where things get a little awkward and mistakes are overcome.

It took more than 50 years of cinema for me to find a movie that meshes so well with these things about Marty, and the result isn't perfect. Then again, neither is the path to true love.

Stranger Than Fiction

2006, Directed by Marc Forster

Marty Pilleti is a man who assumes his time to find true love is running out. Harold Crick, the character at the center of Stranger Than Fiction, played by 38 year old comedian Will Ferrell, is literally told that his time is running out. It's literal because the person who tells him this is an author (Emma Thompson) who's narrating inside his head. I'm not being one of those teenagers who doesn't know what the word literal means, I promise.

Like Marty, Harold is a creature of habit. An IRS agent who lives alone in Chicago, Harold is obsessed with numbers and time. That makes it incredibly jarring when he starts to hear the voice of a narrator in his head on what would otherwise be an ordinary Wednesday, and provides a lot of confusion for Harold. Then, one day while he's winding his watch, the narrator says something -

"Little did he know that this simple, seemingly innocuous event, would result in his imminent death."

- that obviously isn't what anyone wants to hear from a narrator inside their head.

The narrator has been right so far, so Harold does a bunch of things that a lot of us would do at the thought of death. He lashes out. He visits a doctor. He starts to learn to play guitar. He obviously starts to struggle to keep up with his day to day life. That's not necessarily a bad thing, because he's also suddenly not afraid to live his life. He stops counting his steps and meticulously tying his tie the same way. He starts to consider what's really important.

Harold ends up at the office of a literature professor (Dustin Hoffman, who has a lot of fun talking about golems and other literary beings) who tries to help him make sense out his narrator. Along the way Hoffman's character insists that Harold could do anything he wants with the life he has left, offering "You could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted" as an example. But Harold doesn't want that. He wants to live. 

He also wants to love.

Harold's chance comes in the form of a bakery owner he's auditing, a rebellious young woman named Ana (Maggie Gyllenhaal). She obviously doesn't like him from the start, which sets up more of a traditional movie romance than Marty's. But that makes sense, because Harold is trapped in a fictional work and trying to figure out who his third person omniscient narrator is and what kind of story his story is. 

Harold isn't as outgoing as Marty when he starts to become interested in Ana. He shows a quick wit and a willingness to banter with her, but he's still defined by the rules and routines of his life. After a long day of work he has to be forced to sit down and eat a cookie she baked, and he thanks her for this before realizing he can't take a gift from someone he's auditing. Only after an argument does he make the connection that she was trying to do something nice for him, and that he blew it. He makes it more awkward by vocalizing these realizations to her, but he also shows how badly he's upset by his own mistake.

Harold doesn't know what he's doing, but he's motivated. As we learn more about the relationship between Harold and his narrator his romantic life loses the spotlight to his actual life, but without the things he learns from his interactions with Ana we wouldn't have such a fulfilling journey with him. Harold wants whatever life he has left to be a complete one, so when he starts playing guitar for Ana and singing (singing with his eyes closed, which is the true sign of a romantic in love) Wreckless Eric's 'Whole Wide World' - which should definitely be the theme song of this double feature - we know that he's become a true believer.

The imperfections present in Marty Piletti and Harold Crick, two men in search of love who aren't above fits of lust and ogling and stumbling over their words, are obvious. It's the size of their hearts and their willingness to fight for true love in spite of these mistakes that really makes this double feature work for me. Neither film ends with anything certain in these relationships, but both leave us believing there's a chance that these characters have found their way.

There are people out there like Marty and Harold, who feel like they've had enough pain or who hide their pain by paying more attention to the minute details of their life. I can say this definitively because I'm one of them. Believing true love is out there hurts sometimes, and a couple of borderline fantasy films about middle aged guys who stumble into love might not be enough to make some of those lonely folks forget how much it hurts to try and find love and how crippling failure can be the next time you feel something about someone. It takes a lot more work for a real person to find love than it does for these guys in the movies - that's just one of the sad truths of life, folks - but if the movies can at least provide a little hope that keeps your belief alive, that's something.

If you're out there and you're tired and hurt and ready to give up on love - check out a double feature like this one. Marty and Harold's stories work for me, but you can probably find your own inspiration among the movies you love. Luckily for you, there are plenty of romantic stories out there.

The only way you're ever going to find love is if you believe in it first. I hope the movies can help you keep that belief alive.