A Guy Named Joe (1943)

Beautifully-made romantic drama about a fighter pilot (Spencer Tracy) who dies in combat and returns as a spiritual guide to a young aviator who happens to fall in love with the woman whom Tracy left behind. Directed with real sincerity and understated but powerful emotion by Victor Fleming. Tracy never hits a false note in his performance and the entire film works in large part thanks to his masterful skill.

Annie Oakley (1935)

Barbara Stanwyck as ANNIE OAKLEY (1935)

The life of sharpshooter Annie Oakley is an interesting subject for a biopic, although it's made routine and predictable with the fictionalized, imposed romance plot that drives this picture. Barbara Stanwyck is excellent in the title role, however, and brings the right mix of charm and energy to the film that helps carry it through its dull moments. The supporting cast includes Preston Foster as her sharpshooter lover, Melvyn Douglas as the "other man", and Moroni Olsen in a colorful performance as Buffalo Bill.

It's in the Bag (1945)

Adapted from Ilf and Petrov's story about a fortune hidden inside one of a set of chairs. Fred Allen is a flea circus owner who comes in to a fortune -- but he has to find it first, and sets out on a mad hunt through New York City to locate the chair containing the money. Typical of Allen's acerbic, absurdist style of comedy. Contains fun cameos including his old radio rival Jack Benny.

My Ebook "Return to the Kingdom of Shadows" is Now Available

I realize that things have been pretty quiet on this blog for the past few months. That's because I've been working on putting together my first ebook, "Return to the Kingdom of Shadows", a collection of my writing on film that I have done over the years from this blog and other outlets that I have written for. After almost 15 years of writing about film online, I decided it was time to collect a selection of my favorite writings in one place.

This book is a celebration of cinema, from the earliest experiments of Edison and the Lumiere Brothers, to the independent cinema of today. Among the pieces collected in this book are selected film reviews, essays and articles I have written for various online outlets over the years, as well as this blog. With an eye toward both film history and the new directions in which the art of cinema is continually evolving, this book is a tribute to some of my favorite films -- movies that continue to inspire and entertain.

The ebook can be purchased at Lulu, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, and Kobo.

I was recently interviewed by Zekefilm about my book, in which I talk about the importance of early film, studying film history, and the significance of the book's title. You can listen to the interview here.

20,000 Years in Sing Sing (1932)

In the early ‘30s, the Warner Bros. studio was establishing itself as Hollywood’s premier place for hard-edged, social realist dramas that reflected the conditions and attitudes of Depression-era America. Among these films to emerge from Warner Bros. in this period were Wild Boys of the Road, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang, Black Fury, and The Petrified Forest. In addition, the Depression-era wish fulfillment of the gangster films, most famously Little Caesar and The Public Enemy, and the backstage musicals of Busby Berkeley, including 42nd Street, Gold Diggers of 1933 and Footlight Parade, continued in this tradition of dealing with the social issues facing the nation during the Depression at the studio presided over by the pro-Roosevelt, pro-New Deal movie mogul Jack L. Warner.

Out of this milieu came 20,000 Years in Sing Sing, in 1932, a tough pre-Code drama starring Spencer Tracy and Bette Davis in their only picture together. The screenplay was based on the novel of the same name by Warden Lewis E. Lawes. It tells the story of a high-profile, big-time New York criminal (Tracy) who is handed a stiff sentence and sent up the river. His experiences in prison are much tougher than expected, although he gradually comes to respect the stern but benevolent warden. When Tracy learns that his sweetheart, Fay (Bette Davis) is in critical condition and may not have long to live, the warden allows Tracy to take leave from the prison on the honor system and go visit Fay so that they can spend their final hours together. The situation becomes complicated when Tracy learns that it was his friend, Finn (Louis Calhern), who was responsible for his Fay’s injuries, and has plans to double-cross him.

20,000 Years in Sing Sing is stylishly directed by Michael Curtiz, who made so many pictures for Warner Bros. during the ‘30s and really had a chance to hone his craft on film after film. Here, he makes a series of interesting choices that leave an indelible impression, such as prototypical-Noirish use of shadows created by the prison bars, which create a claustrophobic and imposing effect. Another brilliant choice is the use of on-screen text, superimposed above each of the prisoners marching through the prison,indicating the number of years for which they have been sentenced. This device creates a harrowing effect by highlighting the amount of time that these men will be spending behind bars. As a result of Curtiz’s expert direction, the taut and economic storytelling and crackerjack plotting, there is not an ounce of fat on the film, not a single wasted shot or unnecessary moment.

This film offers two early starring roles for Spencer Tracy and Bette Davis, who demonstrate a remarkable chemistry together. Tracy has an excellent opportunity here to display the kind of gentle, noble qualities that he would bring to all of his screen work. He has a remarkable ability to convey so much through his expressions. His subtle and understated performance achieves a totality of tone and characterization. Davis brings just the right mix of innocence and tragedy to her role as the girl Tracy loves and had to leave behind, and it’s easy to see the qualities in her performance here that would quickly make her a top star at Warner Bros.

20,000 Years in Sing Sing is a great example of the gritty, socially-conscious films that Warner Bros. specialized in during the ‘30s. The time was definitely right for this type of film, with the nation embroiled in the depths of the Depression, of economic hopelessness and despair. Although things would soon begin to look up thanks to FDR and his New Deal, films like 20,000 Years in Sing Sing accurately captured the mood and concerns of a nation when it was at one of its all-time low points.

Moby Dick (1930)

Second version of Herman Melville's classic novel, and the second to star John Barrymore. The story had previously been filmed in 1926 as THE SEA BEAST, also starring Barrymore as Captain Ahab.

This version makes the hunt for the whale largely a minor point, instead focusing on a romance between Barrymore and a very young Joan Bennett, and adding a rivalry between Ahab and his brother over the girl's affection. And the whole story is reduced to a 77 minute film.

There is some impressive early process photography, and what had to be some pretty expensive model work with a large-scale, submersible replica of the whale. At the climax, the maniacal Ahab scurries over the back of the whale and repeatedly jams his harpoon into it, until there is a geyser of blood shooting out and spraying all over him.

 But overall, it is a good case for preferring a "faithful adaptation" -- instead of taking such a fascinating, epic story and making it into something utterly mundane.

Main Street After Dark (1945)

A family of pickpockets (including Dan Duryea and Audrey Totter) in a small port city is targeting sailors on leave, and detective Edward Arnold leads a task force with local police to bring their operation down. More of a noticeably low-budget movie than one might expect from MGM at this time, though with a good cast and some nice art direction. With its procedural format and concluding narration, it feels like a feature-length version of one of the studio's "Crime Does Not Pay" short subjects. I do enjoy movies with this kind of dark, WWII-era atmosphere.

The Merry Widow (1934)

High-class, glossy adaptation of the Lehar operetta directed with typically brilliant style by Ernst Lubitsch. The plot itself is a confectionery trifle but Lubitsch elevates it to the level of high art with his brilliant guiding hand, and the full resources of the mighty MGM behind him. Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald are utterly charming as Danilo and Sonia, and there are many welcome appearances from such familiar faces as Edward Everett Horton, Una Merkel, George Barbier, Minna Gombell, Donald Meek and a host of other fine players.

The Dawn Patrol (1930)

Stirring action-adventure drama of the air, about the experiences of a group of British WWI aviators and the impossibly dangerous missions they must risk their lives for. Richard Barthelmess and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. are the two close friends and fellow aviators whose friendship is tested after Barthelmess is promoted to flight commander and sends Fairbanks' kid brother off on a mission from which he never returns. 

Hawks's direction keeps the pace tight and his masterful handling of the action scenes is filled with vigor and delivers some real thrills. The aerial battle scenes are some of the best of their kind ever filmed. 

AKA Flight Commander

The Wind (1928)

One of those glorious silent films that I was introduced to through Kevin Brownlow and David Gill's HOLLYWOOD series years ago.

Lillian Gish stars in one of her most stunning and brilliant performances as Letty Mason, a young woman from Virginia who travels west to live with an old family friend and finds herself plunged in to the wild, untamed landscape of the prairie with its relentless, driving, howling winds. The wind threatens to slowly drive Letty mad as she struggles to adapt and survive in this harsh new environment and to come to terms with her feelings about the man she has married.

This merciless, unforgiving environment becomes a character in its own right. Exterior scenes were filmed on location under extremely difficult conditions of sweltering heat and wind provided by a bank of airplane propellers. Gish oversaw every aspect of the film, choosing the great Swedish director Victor Sjostrom to helm the production, and acclaimed Swedish star Lars Hanson as her leading man.

One of the truly great American silent films. See the Photoplay restoration with an inspired score by Carl Davis.

Directed by Victor Sjostrom. Written by Frances Marion from the novel by Dorothy Scarborough. Photographed by John Arnold. Released by MGM, 1928. With Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson, Montagu Love

Stan and Ollie (2019)

Saw the wonderful STAN AND OLLIE today. It really captures the warm spirit of their comedy through the fine performances of Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly.

I loved the re-creations of scenes from their films and music hall tours, which had me laughing harder than anything I've seen in theaters for a long time.

Some of the imposed dramatic conflict feels forced and a little too convenient, but this is a minor criticism.

The films of Laurel and Hardy mean more to me than any others, and I thoroughly enjoyed this loving and affectionate tribute to the team. It will bring up a lot of great memories for long-time Laurel and Hardy fans and hopefully help introduce some new viewers to their timeless comedy.

Pearl White

One of the first major stars of the American cinema when the film industry was still based on Fort Lee, NJ. She became an internationally-famous star in over 200 films and established her legacy as an American film pioneer and a true immortal of the silver screen, all without ever setting foot in Hollywood.

She starred in many serials including The Perils of Pauline (1914), The Exploits of Elaine (1914-1915), The New Exploits of Elaine (1915), The Romance of Elaine (1915), The Iron Claw (1916), Pearl of the Army (1916-1917), The Fatal Ring (1917), The House of Hate (1918), The Lightening Raider (1919) and The Black Secret (1919-1920).

Following her successful screen career in America, White re-located to Paris, acting on stage & film and investing in resorts, casinos and real estate. After becoming involved with Greek businessman Theodore Cossika, the two moved to Cairo and spent much time traveling through Asia and the Middle East. Rumors of a screen comeback never materialized, likely due in part due to failing health, as she passed in 1938 at the age of 49.

Her starring role in the iconic Perils of Pauline and her status as one of the world's first internationally-famous movie stars cemented her legacy as one of the true immortals of the silver screen.

They Shall Not Grow Old (2018)

I managed to find a theater yesterday that still had available seats for Peter Jackson's WWI documentary THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD. It was being presented as a special event, in select cinemas with a limited number of showtimes, and every theater I checked was sold out. I finally managed to find one, over an hour away, that had seats available. I'm glad I made the effort, because THEY SHALL NOT GROW OLD is possibly the best film I've seen this year...certainly the most powerful.

The story behind this is that the Imperial War Museum commissioned Jackson (who is a huge WWI history buff) to make a documentary culled from their more than 100 hours of archival footage and 600 hours of interviews with British veterans.

They give him carte blanche to use whatever he wanted, however he wanted, and to tell whatever story about the war he wanted. Their only stipulation was that he had to use the footage in some unique or original way.

His solution was to use the footage as the starting off point to create a totally immersive experience that would put the viewer straight into history. He used state-of-the-art technology to stabilize, restore, and even colorize the footage, and added sound made up of new recordings of authentic artillery (again, culled from his personal collection of vintage WWI artillery) and hiring lip readers to translate visible on-screen speaking, which was then dubbed by English actors in the correct regional accents based on where the regiment hailed from.

Aside from the occasional dubbing, he made the decision not to use any narrator or historian voice over, and instead to use only the interview audio of actual veterans.

What an amazing film, capturing the experiences of WWI and told by the men who lived them. What Jackson does with the archival materials immerses you right into history.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

This is a great collection of Western Tall Tales, as only the Coen brothers could tell them. There are no other directors working today with their obvious love of storytelling for its own sake. Here, they've crafted six unique stories set in a mythical version of the Old West, tied together by their exploration of the theme of death, ranging from the comic ("The Ballad of Buster Scruggs") to the ironic ("The Gal Who Got Rattled") to the downright morbid ("Meal Ticket"). 

The Coens have an incredible gift for creating richly-drawn characters, and these stories are populated by the types who are the stuff of Western legend, acted by a talented cast including Tim Blake Nelson, James Franco, Stephen Root, Liam Neeson, Harry Melling, Zoe Kazan, Tom Waits, Tyne Daily, and Saul Rubinek, among others. 

Visually, the film is stunning, with breathtaking cinematography by Bruno Delbonnel rendering the sprawling scale of the Western landscapes with painterly detail. There are some shots, particularly in the segment "All Gold Canyon", that are so rich that the images seem to pop right off the screen, aided by vibrant color that recalls the lush tones of the classic Hollywood Westerns of the 1950s. Also harking back to the classic Westerns is the rousing score by Carter Burwell, which perfectly evokes the majesty and epic qualities of the West.

There is some unevenness between the stories, which is understandable given that the project was initially commissioned by Netflix as a series. At some point, the decision was made to bring all of the segments together to create an anthology film, a kind of cinematic storybook. This approach works well enough, with each story given its own chapter in an on-screen book with accompanying illustrations to represent each tale. At a total running time of almost two-and-a-quarter hours, the segments could also be enjoyed individually, just as one might read a collection of short stories.

The Mule (2018)

I have not seen a new Clint Eastwood film since his last starring vehicle, GRAN TORINO, back in 2009. Almost a decade later comes his return as a star in this drama about a 90-year-old man who has fallen on hard times due to the economic collapse, and becomes a drug runner for a cartel in order to earn some cash.

If this plot sounds a bit far-fetched, keep in mind it was based on a true story that appeared in a NY Times Magazine article, so Eastwood's choice of this role is not entirely an exercise in vanity. It's just unfortunate, as is often the case with Hollywood films, that this incident, which reflects the difficulty of our times and the lengths that desperate people will go to in order to survive, is whittled down to its most trite, cliched, and predictable elements in the name of good storytelling.

The premise is that Eastwood has been an absent husband and father (missing seemingly every milestone in his family's lives) due to his passion for horticulture. It's never really explored at all why he couldn't find room for both in his life, or whether his love of horticulture was a stand-in for an inability to love and connect with those closest to him.

It is his fractured relationship with his family that sets the plot in motion, in one of the film's many highly-contrived scenes. Showing up at his granddaughter's engagement party, an argument erupts when his ex-wife and daughter find out he has been invited. Before he leaves, one of the guests -- a young man with family connections to a drug cartel -- senses that Eastwood is in financial trouble, and tells him of an opportunity to earn some money as a "mule", driving drug shipments for a cartel. Next thing you know, Eastwood is pulling into the garage that the dealers operate out of (in broad daylight, in what appears to be the middle of a busy suburban commercial area), in order to pick up his first load.

Everything goes well. A little too well, in fact, because eventually, Eastwood attracts the attention and respect of the cartel leader (who even brings him to his estate in Mexico for a big celebration). The problems begin when the cartel leader is assassinated, and Eastwood's new "handlers" have no patience for his rogue methods. On top of which, the FBI has been following these developments, and is zeroing in on their target and getting ready to drop the net.

These kinds of plot developments are typical of the film's problems, that rather than letting any situations develop at their own pace, every scene feels shoehorned to serve the narrative, and the growing implausibilities of the situations work against any kind of investment in the material. One aspect of Eastwood's character, never really explored, has him revealing his casual racism and sexism, and imply that perhaps his character is growing based on his interactions with different kinds of people for the first time.

However, some of these situations, such as his encounter with a black family stranded on the side of the road during one of his many trips, strain credibility that he could be quite so out-of-touch. As a result, his interaction with them feels false and hollow, there only to serve the purpose of some vague "character development" that comes from nowhere and goes nowhere. (Also straining credibility are two scenes in which Eastwood's character engages in threesomes with women who appear to be a quarter of his age).

Still, Eastwood's sincere affection for his working-class characters is rare in American cinema. There is an interesting moment when he attends his granddaughter's graduation ceremony, but she is graduating from a cosmetics school rather than a university (in Hollywood, everyone seems to graduate from either Harvard or Yale). This fact is presented entirely without comment, and it's refreshing to see the pride and accomplishment of the graduates as they walk up to collect their certificates rather than being treated like a punchline. Similarly, a scene where Eastwood has paid for the renovation of the VFW hall for his fellow veterans and they come together in celebration, is touching.

That seems to be the central issue in THE MULE. Eastwood uses the severe economic plight of 2010s America as a backdrop for this Robin Hood story of a man who will do anything to provide for himself and set things right with his family, but does seem to be interested in the bigger picture of how conditions got to this point in the first place.

The Other Side of the Wind (2018)

I've been meaning to write my thoughts down on this really remarkable film, which I saw on Netflix when it premiered back on November 2 of this year. It is a film that I feel I would need to re-visit in order to catch everything that is going on it, but I wanted to record these initial impressions before the end of the year.

It's very much a film of its moment (it's an evocative snapshot of Hollywood circa 1970 -- with cameos by the likes of Claude Chabrol, Dennis Hopper, Paul Mazursky, Henry Jaglom, and others), but also incredibly fresh and vibrant. It was also very "experimental" for Welles, I thought -- there were some psychedelic fantasy sequences that were absolutely mind-blowing, particularly in the film-within-a-film starring Oja Kodar. There were moments reminiscent of what Welles does in THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI. It was also very Altmanesque in terms of how Welles uses the ensemble cast converging on one location. Welles uses some familiar faces to great effect, fine character actors like Edmond O'Brien, Paul Stewart, Cameron Mitchell, Mercedes McCambridge, Lilli Palmer and, in one of the film's real revelations, an incredibly poignant performance by Norman Foster as the aging producer.

John Huston plays a hard-living, hard-drinking macho director of the old school, who is making a new film to demonstrate how "with it" he is in the Hollywood of the early '70s. The implication, revealed throughout the course of the film, is that Huston may be attracted to the handsome young male star of his film, and deals with Huston's frustration and resentment at being rebuffed by the young star, who walks off the picture and declines to attend Huston's 70th birthday party. Also explored is the relationship between Huston and a film critic-turned-successful director (played by Peter Bogdanovich), whose own success in this New Hollywood has surpassed that of his aging mentor, resulting in some very complicated frictions between the two of them (especially when Huston is forced to ask him for money to help complete his film).

Guiding some of these character dynamics is a female critic modeled on Kael, brilliantly played by Susan Strasberg. The men denigrate and deride her, but she sees past their macho posturings.

 I've been thinking about the film ever since I watched it, and it's remarkable just how layered and complex it is. Even more remarkable is how well all the threads come together for a film that was in limbo for so long.

Cleo Madison

Cleo Madison (1883-1964), pioneering film actress, screenwriter, producer, and director of 16 shorts and two features for Universal Pictures in 1915-16.

 Key films include Her Defiance (1916), Eleanor's Catch (1916), and Triumph of Truth (1916).

Lule Warrenton

Pioneering filmmaker and actress Lule Warrenton (1862-1932) -- after a career on the stage, she began directing for Universal in 1916 where she had her own studio and gained a reputation as a strong director of children's films. She worked for Universal from 1913-1917 as both a director and actress (including several films with director Cleo Madison), and had a brief stint as an independent filmmaker before returning to acting at Universal. Warrenton left Universal in 1922 to join the San Diego Conservatory of Music and reportedly organized an all-female film company in San Diego.

Her son, Gilbert Warrenton, became one of Universal's top cameramen in the 1920s.

Key Films: PIE, WHEN LITTLE LINDY SANG, US KIDS (1916), THE VALLEY OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS, A BIT O' HEAVEN (1917)

Ernestine Jones in WHEN LITTLE LINDY SANG (1916)

Film Review: Brotherhood of the Popcorn (2015)

Brotherhood of the Popcorn (2015) is a nostalgic, touching, and often warmly humorous portrait of "The Cliffhangers", a group of senior citizen film buffs who meet twice a month to screen their favorite classic films -- especially serials, Westerns and Film Noirs. A lively and entertaining documentary about a group of film buffs and their love of cinema, it has all the elements of a good film itself.

The film conveys the real sense of friendship that exists between the members of "The Clffhangers" themselves: Woody Wise, Eric Harrison, Bill Exter, Rocky Sportelli, Richard Mottern, Dennis Penna, Jack Tuerk, and Tim Walker. Over the course of the documentary, we learn about each of the men, about their lives and their passions, and what draws each of them to their love of cinema.

Watching how much film means to each of them, and how it has served as a driving force in their friendship over so many years, it is really a testament to cinema's power to convey timeless stories and larger-than-life images that stick in our memories over the years, and how much they mean to us in our lives.

Anyone who loves movies knows that a big part of the fun is watching them with other people and sharing that experience together, and that's why movie buffs will enjoy watching "The Cliffhangers" come together at Woody Wise's house, catching up over donuts and coffee, paging through classic movie magazines and reminiscing about their favorite films and stars, before settling in to Woody's screening room, with its own projector and big screen, and the walls decorated with vintage movie posters. It's hard to think of a better way to enjoy a movie then with your friends in your own private cinema.

Highlights of the documentary include an appearance by the late, great Peter O'Toole at the TCM Film Festival in Hollywood, and a visit to the Lone Pine Film Festival, where Woody Wise volunteers each year as projectionist. This is probably my favorite segment of the film, showing off the unique landscape and breathtaking vistas of the Alabama Hills in the area, which have been used as a filming location in countless Hollywood Westerns over the years. Watching that segment of the film makes me want to visit Lone Pine myself someday!

I should mention that although Brotherhood of the Popcorn was released back in 2015, it took me a while to catch up with this film. I'm glad that I finally did. I rented it to stream on Vimeo a few months ago and recently found myself wanting to watch it again. It still captivates on repeat viewings.

Ultimately, Brotherhood of the Popcorn succeeds as a beautiful tribute to the magic of movies.

Brotherhood of the Popcorn was produced by Predator Productions, directed by Inda Reid and executive produced by Woody Wise. Visit the official website here. You can buy the movie digitally to stream on Vimeo here.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962): An Appreciation

I wrote this article in November 2015 for a friend's independent film zine in Brooklyn. It is an account of my re-visiting David Lean's film Lawrence of Arabia (1962) in 70mm -- for the eighth time -- at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens, during the summer of 2015.

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On a warm summer night in August, I made the trek out to the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens for what would be my eighth time seeing David Lean's Lawrence of Arabia projected in 70mm. The Museum of the Moving Image was having a festival of 70mm films called “See it Big!” and even after having seen Lawrence seven times previously in that format over the years, I knew that I could not pass up the chance to see it again.

I settled into my seat and as the opening timpani beats of Maurice Jarre's overture rolled out across the theater, I was overcome with a sense of familiarity toward the experience. Even though I was sitting in a theater in Queens in 2015, mentally I was transported back to my very first viewing -- which remains perhaps the single most powerful moviegoing experience of my life.

I had come across Lawrence of Arabia almost by chance in the fall of 2002. I was still living in Maryland, just 18 years old and recently enrolled college. Living only an hour away, I began to get out and explore more of the movie options that Baltimore City had to offer. The Senator showed mostly first-run movies, but occasionally played classics. An historic theater dating from 1939, it remains a beautiful venue and a great place to see movies on the big screen. I saw that Lawrence of Arabia was playing there soon and so I ventured down to the theater to check it out. I had never seen the film before, aside from a few snippets here and there, and I felt that I owed it to myself to see it properly, since it was being shown in 70mm.

I was not prepared for what a totally overwhelming experience it would be. I had never seen a movie that big before, one that seemed to present a larger-than-life world that existed beyond the confines of the screen. As a budding filmmaker, I was in awe of David Lean's direction – in fact, I had difficulty imagining how one man could “direct” such a massive production. I still do, actually. Imagine looking through the viewfinder of the camera and seeing the seemingly endless desert landscapes and thousands of extras! I was so moved by the experience that I went back to see the film four more times during its run, dragging everyone I could get to come along with me to see it.

Flash forward five years to the fall of 2007. By this time I had graduated from film school and started making films of my own. I saw that Lawrence of Arabia would be returning to the Senator, in all its 70mm glory. I ended up going to see it twice during this run, remaining just as overwhelmed by it as I had been the first five times. It was an experience that felt very familiar to me – especially seeing it in the same theater – but this did not lessen the impact film had on me. If anything, it strengthened it and I found myself thinking about how much the film meant to me -- how much it inspired me.

These thoughts ran through my mind as I prepared to see Lawrence of Arabia for the eighth time. A lot had changed in my own life in the eight years since I had last seen the film. I had moved to New York and was working in the distribution end of the film business, while continuing to make my own films. I couldn't help reflecting on all the changes that had occurred in my own life as I listened, with my eyes closed, to the familiar music of the overture booming throughout the theater. As the house lights came down and the curtain opened, I found myself once again drawn into David Lean's masterpiece.

This time, however, it played like a familiar memory rather than the totally overwhelming, visceral experience it had been for me in the past. The film is certainly just as impressive as ever. I don't mean to suggest that my opinion of it has lessened in the intervening years. After all, the film hasn't changed; I have. It's difficult to put my finger on, but perhaps the experience of seeing the film has dulled somewhat due to my familiarity with it. But my reaction did serve to remind me how our circumstances, and the place that we are at in our lives at the time we see a certain movie, can affect our reactions as much as anything about the film itself. I look forward to my next encounter with Lawrence of Arabia at some future date so that I may see how it holds up for me at that point of my life.

One thing is certain: when I do re-visit the film, it will have to wait until I have the opportunity to see it projected in 70mm again. Seeing Lawrence of Arabia in that format remains one of the defining moments of my life, giving me a whole new appreciation for the presentation of movies, and inspiring me in my own work. Even though I own copies of the film on DVD and Blu-ray, it is one movie that I cannot imagine watching anywhere than on the big screen – the way it was meant to be seen. To see it any other way would be like watching a different film.


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Thanks to Ben Hozie for permission to re-print this article here.