Guest Review #5

Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005)
Written and Directed by Miranda July

Rating: 2.50/10.00 or *

Miranda July’s debut film Me and You and Everyone We Know has received tremendous critical acclaim and become a minor success story. Critics are attracted to the story of lonely people making tentative connections in an intimidating and unfriendly world. Art-house patrons across the nation have found it simply incredible, and I’m forced to agree. In fact, there is not a single moment in Everyone We Know that is remotely credible on any level. It’s a cinematic Nigerian chain letter, asking you to make an emotional investment in order to receive an illusory reward.

July makes a number of mistakes trying to handle the texture of the movie itself. Although it may sound like nitpicking, observational movies rise and fall based on how keenly they perceive emotional and physical details. How then to explain a ten-year-old girl (Carlie Westerman) who owns major appliances, keeps a dowry, and says things like, “This is my hope chest, or in French, my trousseau?” And what about Andrew (Brad Henke), a man in his early thirties, who publicly posts sexually explicit fantasies about neighboring girls half his age without (a) attracting the ire of his neighbors who might have small children; or (b) making the objects of his affection at all uncomfortable?

You’re nodding impatiently, thinking, Is that all? Not remotely. It’s only the most obvious symptom of a more deeply rooted dishonesty. Critic Jonathan Rosenbaum, in praising the movie, notes that the characters “are touching and sympathetic to the extent that they're lonely,” which is certainly true. What’s problematic is the way that July uses loneliness to infantilize her characters, rendering them harmless while at the same time protecting them from our moral judgment. We’re never supposed to consider that these people are responsible for the choices that they’ve made.

When Richard Swersey (John Hawkes) burns his hand, for example, he’s really watching himself burn more than he is setting himself on fire. The movie presents it in such a detached and unreal fashion that Swersey doesn’t seem to have a choice in the matter. When Andrew is posting his sexual fantasies, he concludes by admitting that what he really wants is to cuddle up and sleep in somebody’s arms. This admission serves to discourage the audience from thinking about the explicit content of his earlier public missives. Without it, we might conclude that Andrew is a little sleazy, and possibly even dangerous.

This fuzzy thinking is most noticeable in the story of Robby (Brandon Ratcliff), Swersey’s six-year-old son. He starts off by having sexually explicit conversations with an amorous stranger on the Internet, and later troops off to the park to meet the mystery woman. Given the sunny result, it may sound curmudgeonly to note that children have been abducted, raped, and killed doing this very same thing. July, astonishingly, presents the scene without even a hint of menace. The stranger is presumed to be harmless because she’s already admitted that she really needs somebody she can trust. (Presumably, sexual predators never get the blues.)

But if Everyone We Know is poorly thought out as a character-driven comedy, it’s even less convincing as a personal statement. One of the supporting characters in Everybody We Know is Nancy (Tracy Wright), an art curator who is dismissive when Christine Jesperson (Miranda July) arrives to deliver a tape of her performance art. Unlike the other characters, Nancy is openly mocked for being rigidly doctrinaire (initially rejecting Jesperson’s art because she’s not “of color”) and an idiot (declaring that “there wouldn’t be e-mail without AIDS”). She returns to Jesperson’s video later on and realizes that Jesperson is just as lonely as she is, and so decides to show her artwork. Finally, we discover that Nancy is the anonymous stranger who has been recounting scatological fantasies to Robbie throughout the film.

Her story is singular for several reasons. This is the only part of Everyone We Know that is less than warm. Although the plot line theoretically serves to humanize an unsympathetic character, Nancy is only fully sympathetic after having been repeatedly humiliated and revealed as a fraud. This suggests that July’s celebration of the eccentricities of ordinary people is coupled with the suggestion that the uppity should be brought down to “our” level. The story is also quite self-serving, implying that those who fail to respond to her film are too stuck up and out of touch with their own humanity to truly understand it.

July never explores the narcissism, the populist rage, and the passive-aggressive manipulation in her artistic persona; her worldview is too childish (or if you will, “guileless”) to even consider such issues. If you believe that true love doesn’t solve everything, that sometimes people do want to hurt each other, and that some pains never entirely go away, you’ve already evolved beyond Everyone We Know.

Editor's Note: This review was written by Daniel Linehan.

Movie Review #69

Kings and Queen (2005)
Directed by Arnaud Desplechin
Written by Roger Bohbot & Arnaud Desplechin

Rating: 7.25/10.00 or ***

Arnaud Desplechin's Kings and Queen delves deep into two people's lives and unravels them to the audience while simultaneously redeeming the characters themselves. It's as if the director has finished the jigsaw puzzle while the viewers have only just piled the pieces on the table. The fact that Desplechin not only gets away with this presentation with pleasing (albeit unsettling) results but also presents a coherent narration in the process is a clear signal of Desplechin's genius. Kings and Queen is a cinematic treasure of uniqueness and distinct vision.

The film is separated into three parts and an epilogue. The first part is simply entitled "Nora" but is not nearly that simple. In fact, before long an entire universe of characters is introduced. We at first see Nora (Emmanuelle Devos) as a mature, confident young adult with a pleasant smile and an assured grace. She is about to marry Jean-Jacques (Olivier Rabourdin), whom she loves since he aims to please "her every desire". Nora has a ten-year-old child named Elias (Valentin Lelong) from a previous relationship. Elias is intelligent, fiery, and lovable. Nora and Elias seem to get along fairly well.

Nora is about to see her father (Maurice Garrel), and it is obvious she dreads it to a degree. She calls him "severe" at one point, but when we see him, he only seems somewhat distant. Their relationship seems solid and mutual. But he confesses that he is rather sickly, and they soon learn he has terminal cancer. Nora is devastated, and she quickly calls her sister Chloe (Nathalie Boutefeu) with the news. Chloe has her own problems, mainly extracurricular and financial. But she promises to return to Paris to see her dying father.

Just when everything seemed to be about Nora and her father, the film cuts to Ismael (Mathieu Almaric). Ismael is alone in his small, dark abode. A knock is heard at his door. Ismael opens the door to find two employees from the local mental institution waiting. The scene is quite comical in its genuine absurdity even though everything seems serious. The two employees become a little more intrusive. One sneaks inside to find a noose in the apartment, and Ismael is quickly hauled off to the institution.

So why is Ismael going to the institution? Not because he's suicidal. Not because he's evading taxes. Not because he has adventures searching for drugs to keep his lawyer happy. Not even because he is a loser in life. It's because his sisterElizabeth (Noemie Lvovsky) signed something, and that was that. But Ismael's stay in the institution is by no means unpleasant. He quickly falls for a nurse and then for another patient, in which attempts at suicide are like daily sit-downs for dinner.

We soon learn the connection between the two. Nora and Ismael were formerly married. And so the inevitable reunion between the two is the point to the story. Right? Well, not really. Because we've only finished a corner of the jigsaw puzzle. Other pieces start to fall into place, such as the story behind Elias's birth (which involved Nora's first fiance Pierre (Joachim Salinger)). Pierre tragically died at a young age but reappears to Nora in a dreamlike vision. We get the feeling their love was immature but passionate.

Meanwhile, Ismael meets with world renowned psychiatrist Dr. Devereux (Elsa Woliaston), and discussions involving men vs. women run rampant. We feel through this that Ismael is plagued by his thinking, kind of a rebel without a cause or a youth trapped in an adult's body. But Dr. Devereux is smart with him, and Ismael seems to know himself a little better each time he talks with her.

Nora's father's impending death is preceded by utter torture. He begins to lose large amounts of weight daily and is frequently in great pain. Nora must face questions as to his treatment in his final days. But in her painful decisions, she also begins to worry about Elias not having a true father. Since Pierre is dead and Jean-Jacques is vehemently disliked by Elias, Nora resorts to Ismael. Elias adores Ismael, so Nora seeks him out in hopes that he will take custody of Elias. Dr. Devereux says to Ismael that it is absolutely out of the question.

It is around this point (the second and third acts of the film) when the movie becomes much more sinister, and it is a horrific blow to the stomach. There are signs of this before the tremendous unraveling, but the first particular scene of its blatancy is a sucker punch. And piece by piece, our jigsaw puzzle falls onto the table. Meanwhile, character interactions begin to make more sense. The story maintains its focus, even with the entirely new tone. We begin to understand the motives behind these characters and why their redemptions (especially Nora's and Ismael's) require the rather depressing means.

This shift in tone is successful due to two key performances. The first is that of Salinger as Pierre. Salinger has little screen time, but he uses it to his absolute fullest. His first scene is calm, quiet, and melancholy. His second and third scenes retain the melancholy tone, but they become viciously violent and dark in tone. Salinger evokes a tinge of melodrama shrouded by despair and anger. Salinger is the star who provides the sucker punch; this is one of the best performances by a supporting role I have seen in quite some time.

The second key performance is that of Maurice Garrel as Nora's father Louis. In one long monologue, he rips our thoughts of his relationship with Nora apart in a malicious peacefulness that borders the unnerving. And while Nora's reaction to Louis's terminal illness seems more tragic now, it confirms the one thing Nora said at the beginning of the film that didn't make any sense when we first saw Louis.

Ismael's simultaneous decline and resurrection is equally convincing. In a sense, it retains the somewhat quirky tones inundating his opening scenes, but there is immense emotional power behind it as well. Ismael lived in a world of insanity (although he's not necessarily crazy himself), but he quickly is dealt with reality. Strangely, this was his cure, but it sometimes comes at a high price.

So we come to the epilogue, which is somewhat pretentiously presented, but is ultimately satisfactory. Ismael must decide upon caring for Elias, and Nora must deal with the loss of her father as well as come to terms with Pierre's death. And even though you could say both of their lives are better now, the audience is left to wonder at what cost. Desplechin has performed a most exquisitie reverse illusion. He finished the puzzle, but all we see are those thousand little pieces.

Guest Review #4

The Magnificent Ambersons (1942)
Written and Directed by Orson Welles
Based on the novel by Booth Tarkington

Rating: 5.00/10.00 or **

Before The Magnificent Ambersons, I couldn't imagine a film as butchered as this one was. It reminds me of those card pyramids that take hours upon hours of meticulous craftsmanship and tense delicacy to build. One small slip and it's all over. By the final card, the creator can look with pride and awe. What a wonderful piece of work. And then an all-too-curious eight-year-old gallops up to the table, touches a card at the base of the pyramid, and the whole thing plunges to the ground before the builder can get a snapshot. He or she made a material wonder, but no one will ever get to see it.

I wonder if that is what Orson Welles was thinking for the many years he lived after The Magnificent Ambersons was made. With the amount of ego he is claimed to have (According to a Village Voice review, he once told director Peter Bogdanovich that this film would have been better than Citizen Kane if it were left alone), I somehow do not have trouble guessing that that is what he believed. Several critics have since blasted RKO Pictures and, in particular, executive producer George Schaefer and editor Robert Wise for their part in the debacle of The Magnificent Ambersons, both in quality and in financial success.

But I'm left to wonder how it would have felt in their shoes. After the glorious critical success of Citizen Kane, the enormous pressure had to have been torturous for Schaefer and Wise. First, Citizen Kane, despite its elite status in the motion picture industry, earned financially meager dividends. The pressure was on at RKO Pictures to have a profitable as well as a masterful picture.

When Welles ended filming, he submitted a two-hour-and-eleven-minute film, not terribly long but certainly lengthy, especially for such dark and somber material. The executives at RKO Pictures had to have been alarmed when they saw Welles's work. Its increasingly earnest and desperate tone developed slowly and somewhat painfully. Initial test audiences were typically bored, disappointed, or unimpressed. RKO Pictures had to make some alterations.

So the second problem: What in The Magnificent Ambersons was to be changed? This turned into a collaborative effort between editor Robert Wise, executive producer George Schaefer, and director Orson Welles. Unfortunately for Welles, he was filming his third project at the time and was nowhere near the executive studio. Thus, the decisions ultimately fell to Schaefer and Wise. The approach toward editing The Magnificent Ambersons could best be described as a "slash and dash". One major gouge here, a re-shoot here, another extortion here, another re-shoot. And so on.

The third problem: Welles, and his ego the size of Montana. Orson Welles had no supporters for his original work. Most of the filmmakers sided with Schaefer, fearing support for Welles could be a career-ending (or at least career-harming) move. So when Welles "collaborated" with Schaefer and Wise, he was a lone shark in a very big sea.

The fourth problem: The film itself. Watching The Magnificent Ambersons is almost equal to watching an hours-long surgery. There's the preparation. The doctors and interns wash their hands, scrape them furiously with soaps and disinfectants. Then the gloves go on, the doctor's "gown", the mask. Meanwhile, nurses are arranging the surgical instruments, piece by important little piece. They have to be in exactly the right spot so as not to disrupt the doctor in any matter when the surgery is ongoing.

And then the surgery begins. Metal is clanging, tissue is ripping, an occasional mumble is heard by the doctor or one of the interns. But really nothing is said. You just stare at it and before long think of ways you'd like to be anesthetized yourself.

And then the doctor says it's time to wrap up. A bunch of metal clangs hurriedly, everyone is running around making sure everything is cleaned up nicely. The doctor heaves a big sigh as the final stitch is sewn. There is quick applause, and then everybody leaves the room, leaving an empty place full of surgical equipment and blood.

You may think this example is exaggeration or was just drawn out for too long, but you watch the film and tell me you don't see the similarities. The film begins with about ten minutes of narration from Welles, giving us the foundation for which the movie will transpire. Then we meet the characters and begin to understand their interactions. Then the problems arise in excruciating detail at andante tempo. And the ruthlessly heartless editing does not help matters. The more the film transpires, the more the editing is apparent. The last half hour is a mess. There's bloodied gauze everywhere.

On top of this, The Magnificent Ambersons does not have groundbreaking material. It is about a rise and fall (more a fall) of a wealthy family during the beginning of the twentieth century. The old standbys are apparent: refusal to accept change, greed combined with laziness, and personal compassions blinding the main characters' better judgments. It's all there. And the personal matters, that of a lazy, spoiled, unlikable child avenging the man who brings dishonor and potential harm to the financial stability of the family, are the very things that end up bringing the very "comeuppance" everyone had so desired for the lazy, spoiled, unlikable child in the first place. As everyone's favorite movie critic so often likes to say, "Excuse me while I put on my shocked face."

But the biggest problem? You just can't mess with a director's vision like the slaughter this film endured. Schaefer lost all credit when he physically destroyed the deleted material. He made it impossible to bring back scenes that Welles had crafted. And his prize? Well, a double dose of cinematic justice: financial and critical comeuppance.

Editor's Note: This review was written by Rachel Greene.

Motion Picture Commentary

One of the most common questions I have received in recent weeks is this: who do you think are the up-and-coming actors/actresses/directors in the film industry?

It's so hard to answer this question because there are so many in each category, but I'll try to list a few right now. If I think of a few more later (or see new ones), I'll probably write another entry regarding them.

Scarlett Johanssen -- Her latest movie may have bombed (and her choice is somewhat regrettable), but she can act with the best of them out there. Her performance in Lost in Translation, for example, was a treasure. She embodies her characters with subtlety, charm, and intelligence. I like how she tends to choose private characters, ones not so easy to figure out. Her choices of films, too, are interesting (again, disregarding her last one). She's been in a Coen brothers' film (in the underrated The Man Who Wasn't There) and in the wondrous Ghost World alongside the talented Thora Birch. Soon she'll be seen in a Woody Allen pic. Johanssen is smart, gifted, and intriguing. I like her chances.

Natalie Portman -- Say what you want about her bedazzling looks (and I could say plenty), but there is substance behind Portman's charm. 2004 was her breakout year, with two great performances in Garden State and Closer. Her acting talent is now assured; she stole the thunder from Jude Law and Julia Roberts and held her own with the very impressive Clive Owen. Portman tends to choose roles of powerful women or emotional women, and she gives them a fiery independence reminding me of the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Lauren Bacall, or Katharine Hepburn. Portman will be seen less and less with time (due to her primary passion that is psychology), but she will undoubtedly be a prominent star of cinema for years to come.

Thora Birch -- Speaking of Ghost World, here's another talented young actress. Before Ghost World, Birch gave an impressive performance in American Beauty. Some of you probably remember her as Jack Ryan's daughter in Patriot Games or Clear and Present Danger. Whatever the case, Birch's talent is unforgettable. Birch has a knack for choosing rebellious roles, and she gives these characters a charming combination of aloofness and vulnerability. Birch hasn't taken the spotlight yet, and I can't help but wonder if she prefers it that way.

Peter Sarsgaard -- His impressive resume of critically acclaimed films is no accident. Sarsgaard is one of the most talented actors in the industry today. And his roles are well-known for their rough edges. Take the strangely dark and disheartening friend of Largeman's in Garden State or the good-hearted but unlikable journalist in Shattered Glass. He tends to choose roles in controversial films (Take Boys Don't Cry and Kinsey, e.g.). His choices have been good ones; he typically steals the scene whenever he's on screen. And his films have been of high quality. And to think he'll be in a film directed by Sam Mendes soon.

Elijah Wood -- Most will know him as Frodo, but I'll always remember him as Huckleberry Finn. The Adventures of Huck Finn was the film I first saw him in way back in my school days. Wood has an uncanny ability to embody his roles, something I think he proved admirably in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. But he has also chosen offbeat and occasionally disturbing roles (Try the good son in The Good Son or Patrick in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). And now he's been noticed in Hollywood, and his choices in roles is becoming more prominent. His latest stint in Sin City is evidence of that. Wood will be a force to contend with in the next decade.

Nick Stahl -- Who? You know, the mean guy. The purely evil Bobby Kent in the blistering film Bully. The Yellow Bastard in Sin City. Or maybe he was the good guy. The quietly innocent and troubled Frank Fowler in In the Bedroom. Or one of the unsuspecting heroes in Terminator 3. Talk about versatility. Whenever it's discussed, this name should come up.

Quentin Tarantino -- So he's done Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown, and the Kill Bill series. And he seems to have discovered television along the way. This guy can write, direct, and act. More importantly, he has found a cornucopia of genres and has displayed them in a single film. The genius behind Tarantino's vision is in his undeniable ability to evoke a plethora of emotions out of a life event (common or uncommon), whether it be a conversation in a local diner, a botched robbery, or a church massacre. Tarantino is the master of the everything, everyday world in films full of unique, once-in-a-lifetime chains of events.

Alexander Payne -- Combining rip-roaring humor with piercing drama is so hard to do, but Payne has a complete grasp on it. His efforts have been flawed but undeniably powerful. And he has found astounding actors giving astonishing performances. He made Jack Nicholson smaller than life and Paul Giamatti a leading man. And both were treasures to see.

Sam Mendes -- Two films, two masterpieces. American Beauty and Road to Perdition prosper on the director's artistic touches, acting choices, and/or social commentaries. Mendes is the master of the emotional blockbuster. I can only be hopeful about his upcoming projects, including a feature starring Peter Sarsgaard, Jamie Foxx, and Jake Gyllenhaal. What an interesting film that may be.

Dakota Fanning -- At the ripe old age of 11, she has outgrossed Julia Roberts in her film grosses. Now that's scary. Maybe when directors start giving her parts with multiple emotions and dimensions, she'll be Hollywood's true leading woman. By the way, she currently makes 3 million dollars a picture. Not bad for a prepubescent teenager.

Kirsten Dunst -- Charming in her neighborhood girl looks and gifted in her acting grace, Dunst is becoming a star. Her roles have been engaging, complex, and energetic. I hope she gets away from films like Spider-Man and leans more toward films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or The Virgin Suicides. She blossomed in these roles, and her promise can only lead to greatness.

Anna Paquin -- Talk about an interesting resume. The X-Men series is nothing. She's been seen in Amistad, The Piano, and 25th Hour, three highly acclaimed films. I've seen two of them and vehemently disliked one of them. But her performances were bright spots in both Amistad and 25th Hour, even though both appearances were relatively brief compared the corresponding leads. More interesting is her off-screen resume, including a highly regarded performance on London's West End alongside Hayden Christensen and Jake Gyllenhaal in This Is Our Youth. Paquin needs to do what Dunst needs to do: Move away from the superheroes.

Jake Gyllenhaal -- This actor screams talent. More importantly, he chooses a wide range of roles, from the heartfelt (October Sky) to the blockbuster (The Day After Tomorrow) to the intellectually stimulating (Donnie Darko). Gyllenhaal's talents are versatile; he was awarded for his performance in the play This Is Our Youth in London. I like Gyllenhaal's tendency to shroud his characters in neurotic mystery, where something doesn't seem quite right. Gyllenhaal reminds me of a young De Niro, and look at De Niro's accomplishments when he was young.

Tyler Hoechlin -- Have you ever seen anyone outact Tom Hanks? Or Paul Newman? I have, and remarkably, it was in the same film. Hoechlin's performance in Road to Perdition is a sight to behold. It's controlled, intelligent, and subtle. And the fact that you'd rather watch scenes with him than with Hanks or Newman is a testament to Hoechlin's acting ability. Currently, Hoechlin is starring in 7th Heaven, but he has a new film coming out next year called The Final Season starring Sean Astin. The film is about baseball, Hoechlin's true passion. I have high hopes for this young man.

Hayden Christensen -- Say what you want about his performance as Anakin Skywalker. This guy can act. He was riveting in Shattered Glass as the not-so-innocent Stephen Glass. He was toe-to-toe with Peter Sarsgaard, a difficult thing to accomplish. His performance as Glass and as Sam in Life as a House have both earned him nominations and awards. And for good reason. If Christensen continues to choose characters with dimension and complexity who are written well, he has a bright future ahead of him. Speaking of, he has two films coming out next year and two more just beyond the horizon.

Robert Rodriguez -- A director with vision and clarity, with independence and intelligence. With obvious influence from Sergio Leone and personal friends George Lucas and Quentin Tarantino, Rodriguez has a zest behind his films that is rarely found on screen today. His choices in filmmaking have been unpredictable, but generally very good. With Sin City now on his resume, he is definitely making headlines as one of today's standout directors.

Movie Review #68

The Killing (1956)
Written and Directed by Stanley Kubrick
Based on the novel Clean Break by Lionel White
Additional dialogue by Jim Thompson

Rating: 7.00/10.00 or ***

You have my sympathy, Johnny. You have not yet learned that in this life you have to be like everyone else. The perfect mediocrity. No better, no worse. Individuality is a monster and it must be strangled in its cradle to make our friends feel comfortable. You know, I often thought that the gangster and the artist are the same in the eyes of the masses. They are admired and hero-worshiped but there is always present the underlying wish to see them destroyed at the peak of their growth.

The man who says this is Maurice, a tough guy who happens to play chess. Kola Kwariani, who plays the foreboding individual, is given a small part, but he happens to have the most important lines in the movie. The gangsters portrayed in The Killing are essentially amateurs, save for Maruice and the leader Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden). They have other jobs, menial, "to-get-by" jobs as the bartender at the race track, the race track betting cashier, a policeman, a marksman. This is their chance to strike it rich, whether to help a sickly wife or to win over the love of a greedy wife or to just retire in glory with said wife.

Johnny Clay's plan to rob the local racetrack is completely thought out. Each man involved in the crime has an important task to perform at the same time. Maurice is to pick a fight with the race track bartender (O'Reilly, played by Joe Sawyer). This fight will force several policemen to break up the fight and take Maurice to prison (Maurice is assured his prison stay will be short since he only caused a raucous). This will allow Clay to sneak into the facility (via cashier George Peatty, played by Elisha Cook) without any policeman noticing. Meanwhile, the marksman Nikki Arcane (Timothy Carey) will shoot the leading horse of the race from one of the race track parking lots. This will cause a general madhouse at the race track, allowing dirty policeman Randy Kennan (Ted DeCorsia) to go unnoticed in the back alley where the cash will be literally "dumped" into his vehicle by none other than Johnny Clay. The robbery is funded by Marvin Unger (Jay C. Flippen).

The plan is meticulous, well-crafted, and (importantly) simultaneously executed. The race track's ultimate confusion should make the crime unnoticeable. And the plan is essentially successful. But the focus of this movie is on the things that can never be planned for, something I think is best described by the old standbys: human greed and curiosity.

The eventual downfall of the successful robbery is due to George's wife, Sherry (Marie Windsor, in a devilishly winning performance). Sherry is as cold as steel, with "a dollar sign" where "other women have a heart," according to Clay. She thoroughly despises George; she sees him as weak, stupid, and pitiful. She obviously married him in the hopes of attaining money, but he has so far not provided. George, meanwhile, idolizes Sherry and will do anything to win her affection. When George promises wealth to come, Sherry becomes hopeful. However, she has plans of her own.

Sherry is having an affair with Val Cannon (Vince Edwards). Sherry cunningly ekes out information about the robbery from George and informs Val of the plan. Val then plans a robbery of his own.

Kubrick interestingly provides other examples of human greed and curiosity that potentially and sometimes actually harm the heist. One happens to be a curious parking attendant (James Edwards), who pesters Arcane in the parking lot just seconds before he is supposed to shoot the horse. Arcane finds a most insulting way to get the parking attendant off his back and shoots the horse as planned. However, one problem goes unplanned. The policemen at the parking lot hear the shooting and quickly fire on Arcane.

The heist, aside from Arcane's death, is successful. The henchmen meet at a rendezvous point and wait for Clay and his money. But Val and his gangsters arrive before then, demanding the money. George happens to be outside of the room, so he quietly sneaks into the room, opening fire. Eventually everyone is shot and killed except for George. Meanwhile, Clay has arrived but sees a wounded George stumbling out of the building, so he quickly drives off.

Part of the mastery behind the effectiveness of The Killing through this point is the disjointed character tangents employed in the film's presentation. Since most of the events take place simultaneously, we see each character's actions independently. First, this gives a more natural feel to the proceedings since Kubrick is allowed the full weight of each scene. It also provides more focus on the characters rather than the events. The events are already well known by the time they occur; what we're allowed to focus on is the human aspect of the crime. This aspect is commonly missing from most caper noirs and is usually present in the better examples (Reference Guy Ritchie's films or the brilliant noir The Usual Suspects). Kubrick provides tension by providing the unpredictable elements of human action and reaction. It gives this noir substance behind the style.

The final two sequences of the film are predictable yet satisfactorily appropriate. George returns to his home and confronts his wife about the massacre at the rendezvous. He then kills her before dying himself of the wounds he obtained during the shooting spree. Before Sherry dies, she utters a most appropriate comment:

This is a bad joke without a punch line.

Indeed so.

Finally, Clay goes to the airport with his mate Fay (Coleen Gray). He has since stashed his money in a big suitcase, unfortunately too big as he cannot take it on the plane with him. He begrudgingly has to give up the suitcase to the flight crew. As he waits to enter the plane on the runway, he watches in horror as the suitcase is stashed loosely on one of the airport employee's trailers. The suitcase falls off, money flying everywhere. It's all over, another unplanned event that unravels the master plan. With an artistic touch, the money whirlwinds across the runway.

Clay is quickly discovered:

Fay: You have to run!
Clay (mumbling): What's the difference?

I like The Killing. It's one of my favorite classic capers. It features several of Kubrick's touches that he would later use with fervor in his later works, including the long one-shot tracks, the focus on the human qualities of fear and curiosity, the minor and unplanned events that eventually destroy a major accomplishment. As always in Kubrick's films, the acting is solid with quality casting. The editing of The Killing is appropriately terse, leaving no scene too long or too short. The cinematography is crisp and engrossing.

The Killing does not shake any new ground here; in fact, the film is simply an addition to the film noir genre. But it is a quality addition, one that remains popular even through today (It's even ranked in the Internet Movie Database's Top 250). The Killing may not be a masterpiece, but it is solid entertainment.