The Ten Best Movies Ever Made

Around the new year, New York Times contributor Stanley Fish published a column called the Ten Best American Movies. I looked it over and realized none of them would make my ten best list, and none of my ten best were on his list. Fish’s list: The Best Years of Our Lives, Sunset Boulevard, Double Indemnity, Shane, Red River, Raging Bull, Vertigo, Groundhog Day, Meet Me in St. Louis, and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Fish states that the first two are #1 and #2 and the rest are tied for #3. That was a neat trick, I thought, and some of the movies are among my most admired. But Sunset Boulevard was a huge disappointment to me when I finally saw it—I thought Swanson looked phony and downright cuckoo and any halfway sane guy would run for his life at first sight. If Holden was even slightly attracted to her (the only way the plot would have made sense) he didn’t show it one iota. I didn’t see Raging Bull and couldn’t be persuaded to, much as I adore de Niro. And Vertigo never quite worked for me. It’s slick and entertaining, but overall just a little dull and sleep-inducing.

Today I attempt a more ambitious list, the ten best movies ever made. You're bound to disagree. My list will not contain all of Slezak’s English favorites, but it will not be only American movies either. They will not be in any particular order, but all are cherished for different reasons.

La Strada—Federico Fellini’s heartbreaking masterpiece of dependence versus romance, with towering performances by Anthony Quinn, Guillieta Masini and Richard Basehart.

The Seventh Seal—My favorite Ingmar Bergman, elegant and dark, with a troupe of traveling players and a silent stalker called Death.

Henry V—By turns educational, charming, inspiring and romantic, Laurence Olivier takes the bard’s play from a performance at the Globe, expertly recreated, seamlessly to the fields of Agincourt where a real king becomes a man.

Seven Chances—Buster Keaton, to my mind the greatest silent film comedian (I know, I know, there was another one, who may have been a full-fledged genius), at his best in acting with just a look in his eyes. A delightful climax displays his great talent for running.

Citizen Kane—A thoroughly intellectual film by the young Orson Welles, skewering William Randolph Hearst with a brave little movie that ended up wrecking Welles’ own career rather than that of the man he set out to expose.

Brief Encounter—The touchingly doomed English romance, with superb performances and a script by Noel Coward.

Of Human Bondage—Bette Davis delivers a knockout punch with her portrayal as she tries to destroy the well-intentioned but hapless Leslie Howard in this telling of the Somerset Maugham tale.

From Here to Eternity—Pearl Harbor is made real with some wonderful actors and the most powerful kiss ever filmed. Who needs a nude bedroom scene after that?

To Kill a Mockingbird—Everybody’s favorite father figure, Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch, helps some innocent Southern kids understand the meaning of the word character in this beautiful filming of the Harper Lee novel. My favorite scene, at the end, is when the blacks, ringing the balcony of the courtroom, say to the little girl, "Stand up, Miss Jean Louise. Your father is passing."

Singin’ in the Rain—Hollywood looks at itself and gives us a passel of good songs, awesomely great dances, and a movie to remember. Who can forget Donald O’Connor with that dummy on the couch and jumping through the “wall” at the big finish of the “Be a Clown” number, or that one where Gene Kelly gets all wet while dancing in the puddles?

You're probably mystified by some of my choices. You probably know whether I got the quote right from To Kill a Mockingbird. There were a couple of near-misses when I pared the list to ten, and maybe I should have included some of them. Care to make up a list of your own? Turns out it's not so easy as I thought it would be.

Time for a Movie List

The Shakespeare debate diversion didn't go that well. I expected to be flooded with readers wanting to discuss my opinion on the question, and all I've gotten so far is a promise from my friend Howard Kissel to pick up the topic again on his blog (see comment on my previous post for link to his side of the discussion). In the meantime he seems to be occupied with his real life of concerts, operas, and intellectual Manhattan soirees.

So let us move on to mundane matters: Let's talk about movies I like. I now subscribe to an online movie service--I guess that's what you call it--which keeps me supplied with DVD's almost daily. I'm well into my wish list of movies now, and expect to receive Milk in the mail today. That sounds like a pun, but it isn't. It's a movie I missed on the big screen.

I recommended Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day to a friend, and he and his wife liked it so much I made up a little list of some of my all time favorites for them and shall share it with you now. As to Miss Pettigrew, I unabashedly enjoyed the little whimsical romance and recommend it wholeheartedly as escapist fare. Following are some more from my list.

Romances you’ll probably enjoy:

Dan in Real Time (Steve Corell as a lovelorn bachelor who has fallen in love with his brother’s fiance; all works out after many laughs)
Forgetting Sarah Marshall (One of those new ones where a kinda jerk can’t get over his girlfriend until he runs into her at a beach resort w her new boyfriend who is an English rockstar asshole)

Two you’ve probably seen, but sheer delight:

Something’s Got To Give (this is the one with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton, elegant NY and Hampton settings; he’s an old roué dating her daughter, finally they get together and come apart again, Edith Piaf songs in the background, etc. Don’t miss it if you haven’t seen it for some reason.)
Little Miss Sunshine (in which an endearingly goofy family takes off for Las Vegas to put their homely little girl in a child beauty contest. Many laughs on the trip and at the contest too.)

A very odd old one:
Little Voice (Michael Caine won an supporting actor nomination in this one of the late 90’s about a con man whose girlfriend’s sister can sing in the voice of Judy Garland, Barbra Streisand and others. The actress playing the role actually did her own singing.)

An interesting take on losing your memories:
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Jim Carrey wants to forget everything because of a love affair gone wrong. Very powerful, with a sensitive performance by our usually-nutty Jim Carrey)

Here’s one I thought was about me 15 years ago:
Passion Fish (A soap opera actress goes home to the bayou country after having an accident rendering her crippled. Very beautiful, touching, and it introduced me to the wonderful David Strathairn).

A tough one from last year that should have done better at the box office:
In Bruges (about English criminals, serious but with a few laughs. Beautifully photographed, unusual locale (“fuckin Bruges!”)

A beauty for Tommy Lee Jones fans, of which I am one:
The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada (A journey of despair and hope for a couple of hapless Texans. This one will take you way outside yourself and deposit you somewhere in the wilds of Mexico, far from the swine flu.) See it.

Shakespeare, The Supreme Court, and Me

For years the United States Supreme court has dealt with the works of Shakespeare as a sideline, sometimes debating in mock court the many trials in his plays and even sometimes debating whether or not he actually wrote the plays. Last weekend Justice John Paul Stevens raised some hackles by announcing that he had decided that the canon thought to be written by the otherwise nondescript sometime actor and theatre manager from Stratford had actually been written by someone else.

Twenty years ago I didn’t pay much attention to the controversy surrounding the authorship of the plays attributed to a certain William Shakespeare of England in the 16th century. I knew there had been plenty of people who believed the plays could not have been written by the humble glover’s son, but, like everybody else I knew, I accepted the romantic story of the country boy who went to London and gave the world the greatest dramatic literature it had ever known.

Then I saw the PBS Frontline special presenting the argument that the plays may have been written by a nobleman of whom I had never heard, the 17th Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere. It made me think twice about my assumption, and I read all I could find about de Vere and the many experts who believed him to be the uncredited author who used Shakespeare as a nom de plume. Further study of de Vere provided me with the following information about this contender for the title of the greatest dramatist the world has ever produced.

Edward de Vere lived a life worth reading about. An aristocrat in Elizabethan England, he was a child prodigy, a poet courtier, an adventurer, and an all-around son of a bitch who made a ton of mistakes in his life. He was profligate with money, a great drinker and storyteller, a juror in such trials as that of Mary Queen of Scots; Robert Devereaux, the earl of Essex; and Philip Howard, who was found guilty of treason in plotting the victory of the Spanish Armada against England in 1589.

As a child, de Vere was the ward of William Cecil, principal advisor to Queen Elizabeth. He was tutored by the best educators in England of the day, having the following curriculum:

7-7:30 Dancing
7:30-8 Breakfast
8-9:00 French
9-10 Latin
10-10:30 Writing and Drawing
1-2:00 Cosmography
2-3:00 Latin
3-4:00 French
4-4:30 Exercises with his Pen

A rather impressive course of study for a boy, isn’t it? What is “cosmography,” you might well ask. As a matter of fact it was geography, history, physical science, astronomy, sociology, English, comparative literature, linguistics, and more. Basically it was everything known in the Elizabethan world. And de Vere had the finest teachers in England as his private tutors. On holy days (holidays) he was expected to “read before dinner the Epistle and Gospel in his own tongue and the other tongue [Greek] after dinner. All the rest of the day to be spent in riding, shooting, dancing, walking, and other commendable exercises, saving the time for prayer."

His intense education included the reading of Beowulf and Ovid’s Metamorphoses and detailed study of the Bible, as noted. That he was surrounded by the greatest personal libraries in England was a boon to him all his life, as he was a voracious reader and could write beautiful prose and poetry. He studied the law and received a Master of Arts degree from St. John’s College at Cambridge.

De Vere grew up from a prodigy to be a brilliant if contentious and conflicted man. He was expert at squandering the funds and lands he’d inherited, and he was never entirely comfortable with William Cecil, his guardian. Cecil was an eminent Elizabethan favored as a trusted advisor to the Queen herself.

In one of the few missteps of his life, William Cecil arranged a marriage between his daughter Anne and de Vere in 1571. In 1575, de Vere took off for Italy for a year, claiming that his marriage had never been consummated. He spent some time in Venice, Florence, Sienna. On his journey he traveled to Greece, Croatia – then known as Illyria – and back to England to meet his first daughter and reconcile with his wife. Although he accepted the marriage he never really participated in it. He was rumored to have had an affair with Queen Elizabeth, and he fathered a child by his mistress Anne Vavasour. He got into many a scrap, including political ones. He was known as a poet and writer, a dandy, a great drinker and storyteller and a tempestuous poet possessed of a tormented soul.

There are many instances in life of Edward de Vere which could well have inspired great theatre. He was a swordsman, leader of a group which almost might be called a “gang”—men who clashed in the streets of London with Thomas Knyvet’s men, members of a rival political faction. De Vere received a serious wound in one of these battles—among many brushes with death in his reckless youth. His passionate nature and affairs of the heart would have well equipped him to dramatize a story of unfulfilled young love, the obvious example being Romeo and Juliet. Maybe he did, maybe someone else did, but it would seem he could have.

He had a younger sister who may have been cut of the same cloth, disposition-wise. When she set out to marry she would have none of the suitors William Cecil had chosen for her, preferring the hothead Peregrine Bertie. De Vere despised Peregrine Bertie and did what he could to block the marriage, but after it happened he accepted the couple and even became a good friend to his volatile brother in law. Mary de Vere Bertie and her mate provided a monumental display of temperament and the constant drama of power struggles as they settled into married life, which one might see as a possible model for The Taming of the Shrew. Everyone might not see it, but one might.

This is only a fraction of the story, but even in this brief, partial re-telling, one can see not only the makings of an extraordinary life in one of the most compelling times and places in the history of the world but also quite possibly the seeds of some of the greatest theatrical writing ever to have been produced. Where many have doubted the possibility that the isolated actor-turned-merchant of remote Stratford could have had the education and the grace to have written the towering works of Shakespeare, no one has come up with a better candidate for the real author than Edward de Vere.

Whether or not you think it is possible that the man whose name was always signed Shakspere (who is not known to have been educated in the classics, since there are no records from the school in Stratford) actually didn't write the plays, it is interesting to study the biography of the aristocrat whose life is related in Mark Anderson's book "Shakespeare" by Another Name. This tome reveals in a compelling way a great deal about the historical period, explaining that, for one thing, unlike today, playwrights weren't celebrities–their names were unknown to the public--and the theatre itself was as much a platform for veiled political statements about intrigues at court as it was a source of a night's diversion.

I can't say that I know for certain that de Vere was da Bard, as the question is put in today’s parlance, particularly in Hoboken and environs. Whether or not you buy the premise, I suggest you read da book. I also learned a great deal from the little book Shakespeare: Who Was He? By Richard F. Whalen, and from articles in the April 1999 issue of Harper’s, by Tom Bethell, Daniel Wright and Joseph Sobran.

I wish Frontline would run an update including information about De Vere’s heavily annotated copy of the St. James Bible, with his markings of passages which seem to coincide neatly with the biblical allusions in Shakespeare's works. It will be nice if this controversy is settled before I die, and the more we hear of it, the more chance there is of that.

Comic Potential in Hoboken

Going to amateur theatre in Hoboken is pretty much like going to professional theatre somewhere else. The level of performance and technical proficiency is outstanding. To find out if I'm right about this, check out the Hudson Theatre Ensemble's production of Comic Potential by Alan Ayckbourn which will play next weekend.

Needless to say, as an Ayckbourn offering, it's a funny script, but in lesser hands it might have been difficult if not tiresome. Fortunately, Hoboken has the Hudson Theatre Ensemble which provides more than enough talent to make this production sparkle.

We are close enough to New York to have a number of professional-level actors with credentials in off-Broadway and film work, and locals who just love the theatre and attend and participate whenever they have a spare moment. This pays off for Hoboken theatregoers who may want to go to a play even closer to home--say, the corner of Sixth Street and Park. In Comic Potential they'll get a play that will make them laugh out loud more than once.

The play takes place at some indeterminate time in the future, which looks suspiciously like the present but has a few noticeable differences. We're in a television studio where a daytime soap opera is in the process of being taped. The production is decidedly wooden and contrived, even for the genre, and soon we learn it is because the performers are not human beings but robots known as actoids. They have been programmed to speak the lines and walk the walk of characters in soap operas, and when they are done with their work they are tucked away in a warehouse out of sight, to be reprogrammed as needed.

But not this time. One of the actoids has a fault--she laughs out of place. The production staff is to try to correct this technical glitch, but when they break for lunch, a visitor to the set, the nephew of the all-powerful station owner, finds himself chatting with the pretty actoid and the hilarious plot is set in action.

Comic Potential is billed as a "seriously funny comedy," but it is much more than that. It combines satire, farce, love story, and instruction of the worst-case-scenario of the future of television. The plot twists, sight gags, and tender moments require superb timing and the firm hand of a director who knows what she's doing. In Kelley Reeves, as the versatile actoid, the company has an actress who can convey the comedy and semi-pathos of the role with exquisite timing and charm. She can shift gears from a human moment to a recitation of whole chunks of dialogue from a melodramatic situation of her soap opera past. John Heath carries off the role of the smitten innocent most winningly. And the stage is filled with character actors, some, like Brian Hopson, filling multiple roles and stealing scenes with all of them. Frank Magnasco and Gregory Nye, familiar to Hoboken audiences, appear here to great advantage, and there are walk-ons and double-cast actors who have us totally fooled as to their identity (as does Courtney Kochuba).

There is a wealth of talent on the stage, and I feel a little at a loss to pick favorites. No doubt you will have your own. Comic Potential is beautifully directed, and the community owes a debt of gratitude to Diana London and Florence Pape, who keep the ensemble functioning year after year.

If you never thought about going to a play in Hoboken before, this is the time to do it. The show will go on again on Friday April 24 and Saturday April 25 at 8 P.M. at the Hudson School Performance Space. Call (201) 377-7014 for reservations.

The White Trees of Hoboken

It's that time of year. Search engines are finding my blog with the words "white trees Hoboken" and I suppose they find the post I put up about a year ago with some of the flowering trees.

I've been seeing them for a couple of weeks now, and seeing the little spiders coming here to look at my pictures, or read what I know about them. The fact is, I know nothing about them except that they were there last year--trees spectacularly in full white flower, some type of cherry, I suppose--no doubt a local expert will set me straight soon with a comment that everybody should know an apple tree from a Japanese cherry or a blossoming acacia or whatever the trees are. I'm sure there's even a wonderful story about the year they were planted. All I know is that they tell us all that spring is coming, before the other trees leaf out, just as the tulips and hyacinth and pansies burst forth on the medians.

Who knew spring in Hoboken would be a cause for celebration? Who knew they could write a song about it, "Hoboken on My Mind," or "April in Hoboken"?

But the temperature is going up to 70 today, and by Sunday you may want to grab brunch at a place with a white tree nearby. The old 14th Street hangout known as Frankie and Johnny's, now renamed after its current owners Dino & Harry, stands proudly announcing brunch and a blooming white tree stops you in your jogging tracks as you contemplate the neighborhood and make plans for the weekend.

As for me, I'm going to take in the Sunday matinee of the Hudson Theatre Ensemble's production of Comic Potential by Alan Ayckbourne and maybe get a light repast with friends afterwards.

It's days like this that make us appreciate winter because it helps us to enjoy spring.

Susan Boyle, British Phenom

It started as a trickle. A friend emailed me the video, I watched it and was touched by the lady's talent and the element of surprise--the plain Scottish woman, game and cheeky, with the nerve to demonstate her singing ability before harsh, professional judges--and then the amazing result. I emailed the link to a few friends I knew would enjoy it. I got one of those "friends" emails from an acquaintance, and sent her a copy too. Then I began getting responses.

They weren't just, "Thanks for sending this" kind of responses. People from everywhere--Alabama, Switzerland, Delaware, Florida--all my contacts were writing back about having goosebumps and tears in their eyes. I then began sending it all over, always getting the same sort of comments. I may have sent it to you already, but I felt it was time to post it to the blog. It deserves a second look.

We all know I can upload videos to this blog; I've done it before. But this time I keep hitting a snag, so I'm going to have to trust you to do it manually. Click on this link and you'll see what I mean!

This Susan Boyle is on her way to world fame. If she never sings another note, she has changed us all for a moment. Watch her and let me know what you think.

Loesser Is More

Until a couple of weeks ago, I took the great American songwriter Frank Loesser for granted. I knew the name, and if I pressed my own brain might have remembered that he wrote the words and music to Guys and Dolls and How To Success in Business Without Really Trying, but would not have known that he was the author of "Slow Boat To China" and "Baby, It's Cold Outside." I would not have known that he was responsible for the 1940's novelty hit "Murder, He Says," which I have on my iPod in the Gene Krupa-Anita O'Day version, and play occasionally for a smile and trip down to bobby-soxer memory lane. (No, I wasn't a bobby-soxer; I was a little kid who thought bobby-soxers were fascinating in a hilarious way.)

Clever lyrics and a seamless way of integrating song with the action of a story were hallmarks of Loesser's genius. If you don't think "Baby, It's Cold Outside" is witty, listen to it once more. If you miss the significance of a song like "I Believe in You," listen to the cast album (or rent the movie--this one does capture the show). It's sung by the young hustler (Robert Morse played the role to perfection), as he looks at his own image in the corporate men's room mirror--surrounded by his competition, all taking an extra shave with their kazoo electric razors as they chant in desperate counterpoint, "Gotta stop that man, cold, or he'll stop me...")

Last week was a banner one for Frank Loesser and me. To begin with, the excellent production of Guys and Dolls at Hoboken High, just around the corner from my apartment, transported me to that odd corner of Damon Runyon's New York through the music and words of Loesser at his best. The production offered a fresh approach to the show, too long occupied in memory by the lackluster film dragged down by a lost-looking Marlon Brando. An unquestionably great actor, Brando showed no connection with music or with the milieu of Times Square crapshooters. At Hoboken High, the students worked their tails off dancing and singing, and approached their characters innocently with both the great courage and gusto of teenagers. I was brought back to the original intent of the material and the clever juxtaposition of romance with gritty street-smarts. Who but Frank Loesser could have captured the color of Runyan's Broadway? Who else could have written, "Da Biltmore garage wants a grand/But we ain't got a grand on hand/And dey now got a lock on the da door/Of da gym at P.S. 84"? And conclude with the delicious syntax of "If we only had a lousy little grand we could be a millionaire!" to say nothing of the beautiful love songs and hilarious novelty numbers I described in the review you'll find if you scroll down to the post before last.

I was lucky enough also to attend a Loesser evening at the New-York Historical Society Museum a week ago, moderated by journalist Pete Hamill, who was clearly relishing every song, particularly those from Guys and Dolls. There were interpolations of "Adelaide, Adelaide, Ever-Lovin' Adelaide," and "A Woman in Love," both of which were in the lamentable film but not in the stage play.

Loesser's widow, the extraordinary Jo Sullivan, who played the original Rosabella in The Most Happy Fella, graced the evening with her favorite of his songs, "Spring Will Be a Little Late This Year," which, as she noted, was introduced by Deanna Durbin in the 1944 movie Christmas Holiday. Sullivan still sings like an angel; she also performed a duet with her beautiful daughter Emily Loesser which was wonderful to hear.

The benefit gala was staged as a fund-raiser for the Museum's American Musicals Project, which uses the study of American musicals to provide a context for teaching social studies to New York City schools, and a worthy project it is. The gala itself introduced us to excerpts from some of Loesser's letters to friends including Bob Fosse. It left me wanting to know more about Frank Loesser. If you want to do the same, there is a wonderful website that will get you started.