#2: I Must Penetrate the Heart of His Secret!

(Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, Robert Wiene, 1920)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is bad. Not bad in a good way, not bad in an "I don't understand old movies" way. It's just bad. The acting, even by the standards of the year it was released (1920), is hammy and over the top. The story is incredibly convoluted, especially for a time where audiences expected somewhat straightforward plots.

The film is, apparently, supposed to be a metaphor for the rising tide of fascism in Germany during the 1920s, following the severe economic downturn of World War I. But we're dealing with German expressionism here, which means that (almost literally) NOTHING IS WHAT IS SEEMS. There is never an outright mention of politics of any kind in the movie, which leaves the viewer to interpret the sets and the dialogue however they wish. Buildings that are curvy and free-form? That symbolizes art and creative freedom. Or maybe they represent a government giving its people the illusion of freedom while they still have none. Or maybe the entire story takes place in the head of a mental patient. Now is the appropriate time to let your brain melt.

The best part about The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (and I use "best" loosely) is the dialogue, and only because it translates poorly to a modern setting. Anyone with a juvenile sense of humor (Ooh! Ooh! Pick me!) would get a serious case of the giggles from lines like "I must penetrate the heart of his secrets!" (and now you know why we chose that title).

I'm still not sure why people regard this movie so highly. It must have been one of the first expressionist movies to actually work, and thus befuddle its audience so much that they don't understand it at all, forcing them to think that it's art. It could also be that modern film students don't know why it's good, but are forced to fake affection for it due to scholarly peer pressure. Maybe everyone should just lift the wool off each other's eyes, join hands and sing in harmony, "Let's never watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari again!"

---

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari a prime example of why I never would have made it as a film studies major. Dr. Caligari is widely considered to be a deeply influential example of German Expressionist, but I just don't understand what all the fuss is about. It's probably just that early film, especially of the silent variety, isn't really my schtick, but I honestly found watching The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari to be pretty excruciating. Additionally, I have to admit that we cheated on this one a little. We actually decided to take on this project after we saw The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but the film was extremely unenjoyable, so we decided we would just let it go. It was only about a week before, and neither of us wanted to waste two dollars to rent it and watch it again. So we shrugged our shoulders and decided that, just this once, we would count a previously viewed movie as part of our experiment.

I'm not going to go into the plot of this film all that much, partly because it's still not clear to me what happened and partly because I've been putting off writing the particular entry and I don't really remember what happened. You see, we viewed this film roughly 7 weeks ago for the film class that Jack is taking. It was the first meeting of that class, and I'd heard a lot about this movie so I decided to tag along to watch it. I kind of wish I hadn't, but then I'm kind of glad I did, because if I hadn't we'd have to watch it sometime in the future with Jack possessing full knowledge of just how boring and weird it is.

I will say this about The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari: the sets are really cool. They play into the German Expressionist genre beautifully, being just realistic enough to be recognizable as buildings and trees and things, but abstract enough to create an amazingly dreamlike setting. This is especially effective due to the fact that one of the main characters is a somnambulist (which is a great word), and the entire film ends up being a bizarre dream anyway.

I kind of wish I had more to say about this film, especially since so many film scholars hold it in such high esteem, but that's really all I've got. It's weird, but visually it's kind of cool. I'm glad I've seen it, but I'll certainly never choose to watch it again. And, really, that's all there is to it.

#1: Tyler Isn't Here

(Fight Club, David Fincher, 1999)

WARNING: HERE THERE BE SPOILERS

When Jack and I decided we were going to embark on this adventure we struggled to decide which film from the list we'd watch first. We had no trouble deciding what the last film will be (I won't reveal that now, the information will come when the time is right), but choosing a first was a challenge. I can say that the film we will finish with is one neither of us has seen, so it seemed fitting that the first would be a reviewing of a film we'd both seen. Not long after that decision was made, we settled on Fight Club, an extremely logical choice considering our history with it.

When we began dating we were brought together by a common love for author Chuck Palahniuk, who penned the novel on which Fight Club is based. The special edition DVD of Fight Club was also one of the first gifts Jack ever gave me, and tonight we once again sat down to watch that very copy of the film. It's hard for me to critique Fight Club because of my undying love for it, and I suppose my only real criticism is that the end of the film differs fairly significantly from the end of the book. Ultimately, though, it's not really that big of a criticism because the film couldn't really end any better than it does, and Palahniuk himself has said that Fincher's film is an improvement on his novel. You can't really argue with that.

For those of you not aware of what happens in Fight Club, be warned, because I can't go much farther without revealing the end. I myself had the twist ending spoiled for me by VH1. I knew before seeing the film or reading the book that Tyler Durden was not a real person. Clearly, it didn't affect my deep affection for either work because, in the end, that's not really what it's all about. It's not really clear to me who or what Tyler Durden is, but I've deduced that he lands somewhere between being Edward Norton's imaginary friend and his alter-ego. Whoever he may be, Norton's manic revelation that the man he's been spending all of his time with is actually in his head is one of the most satisfying moments in film.

For a film that centers mainly around guys with daddy issues beating each other up and later blowing things up, Fight Club is shockingly nuanced when it comes to revealing its ultimate secret. Throughout the film, Edward Norton (whose character is never named) and Tyler Durden speak to each other mainly when no one else is around. They are also rarely seen in the same frame unless they are alone. It's only when Norton's character really begins to descend into psychosis and absorb Tyler's personality into his own that they begin to speak to each other while other people are present, thus creating some confusion (for example: in those scenes, is Durden's voice inside Norton's head? Is Norton openly conversing with himself? Is Norton acting as Durden?). The film also incorporates subtle hints that Durden doesn't exist, such as when he and Norton beat up a car, and though Tyler strikes first, the car alarm only goes off after Norton hits it. But it's the final confrontation between the two that really highlights the depth of Norton's madness and the brilliance of the filmmaking.

Norton and Durden fight a spectacular fight in a parking garage that cuts between the "real" view (where both are present), and the view from a security camera (where Norton gives himself the beating of a lifetime). The scene is an intricate dance, brilliantly acted by Edward Norton, who flails around as if someone else is actually clobbering the living daylights out of him. The fight ends when Tyler -- who has begun to show somewhat superhuman abilities -- throws Norton down a flight of stairs and knocks him unconscious. When he wakes up we're back where the movie began: in the top rooms of the same building with Durden holding a gun in Norton's mouth. Finally, Ed Norton fully realizes that Tyler is completely within his own mind and that the gun is actually in his own hand. He ends by shooting himself in the mouth (which is still uncomfortable for me to watch, no matter how many times I've seen it), thereby killing Tyler Durden.

Now, how shooting yourself in the mouth can manage to kill your alternate personality without killing you is way beyond me, but that's not quite the point. What's really significant is Edward Norton's realization that he is in control, and firing the gun is his way to physically manifest that knowledge. Additionally, despite the insanity and the extreme violence, the ending of the film is oddly beautiful, with Norton and Marla Singer (played impeccably by Helena Bonham Carter) holding hands and watching Durden's final act of destruction while The Pixies' Where is My Mind plays in the background.

I've inexplicably reached the end of this post without mentioning the actual fight club aspects of Fight Club, or even mentioning the now infamous rules that Brad Pitt recites at the beginning of every club meeting. I guess it's because, to me, those things are important, but not what make the movie great. For me, it's all about Edward Norton decipher a code that, even after innumerable viewings, I can't even begin to understand.

–––––

What can be said about David Fincher's Fight Club that hasn't already been said? The movie spawned a whole cultural phenomenon that involved young men getting together in basements and back alleys to beat the heck out of one another. They all seemed to take the movie as an endorsement of unbridled violence, and the overwhelming benefits it can have on someone's life. What they failed to remember from the film is that the main character is, while hyper-violent, wracked simultaneously with multiple personality disorder and insomnia. Hardly a hero for our age.

Fight Club was unlike anything I had ever seen when I rented it from my local video store back when I was in 1oth grade. I was used to your average stupid teen-comedy, classic black-and-whites, and just about every other stereotypical genre. I'd heard great things about the movie, and I finally broke down to see what all the fuss was about. The end result was that I'd seen a movie that I liked A LOT, but I couldn't quite place why. I think that's what's kept bringing me back all these times: trying to figure out exactly what Fight Club is.

Along with Pulp Fiction, another inclusion on this list, Fight Club introduced me to an idea that my parents I'm sure would not be too proud of: violence does, in fact, solve problems. Granted, the way it solves those problems can often be counterproductive, but that's beside the point. Fight Club (again like Pulp Fiction) would be just another stupid action/comedy if it weren't for the superb writing, and that's where Fight Club truly clicks. Chuck Palahniuk's novel is simultaneously twisted and hilarious, the kind of laughs that stick in your throat because while you enjoy the gleeful abandon the characters have with their lives, you also realize that they are lashing out against the very things that define our society.

But what really gets me about Fight Club is just how good every single actor is. We've come to expect greatness from Ed Norton, Brad Pitt and Helena Bonham Carter (and they certainly don't disappoint) but the bit players are just as entertaining. Who knew Meat Loaf could act? And even though Jared Leto's biggest scene involves him getting his face getting beaten to mush, he has an innocence about him that is almost palpable when he shucks it off.

Ultimately, however, Fight Club owes everything to director David Fincher. It's not the grittiest thing he's done (see Se7en, Alien 3) nor is it the glossiest (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button). Fight Club occupies this very distinct middle ground, balancing the dirt and grime that Tyler Durden and his Space Monkeys inhabit with the sheen of the corporate world they are rebelling against. Fincher keeps these elements separated right up until the film's climax, when the curtain is pulled back, the blinds are raised, and the audience sees that the two worlds aren't nearly as far apart as we thought.

In short, Fight Club is a gateway drug. It's the marijuana of movies. After seeing this, I (and I know many others) was hooked on the surreal/violent/comedic movie style, and that led to so many more choices. It's the perfect jumping off point to any budding film enthusiast. I guess that's why it's our number 1.

Film Lovers Are Sick People...

...or so said Francois Truffaut, who has five films on The Guardian's list of 1000 films to see before you die. He must be right, because only people ranging from mildly deranged to completely psychotic would attempt this experiment. As two self-described film lovers, we intend to watch every single film on that list (including rewatching any that one or both of us have seen) and write about each and every one. If we watched a film a day, this would take approximately two and a half years to accomplish. We're giving ourselves the wiggle room of watching one film every two days, and also acknowledging that this is not a hard and fast deadline. Because if we set a deadline we'll get stressed out and this will cease being fun.

To begin with, it should probably be clarified who "we" are. We are Jack and Caroline, abbreviated CarJack. We've been dating for just over two years at the time that this is being written, and find it to be an unusual point of pride that we met at a midnight Halloween screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (which is, sadly, not on the list). Though we tell everyone that we met on that night, we technically met as members of the Oregon Marching Band. However, if it weren't for RHPS we probably wouldn't have had much contact with each other and may never have begun dating, and if we weren't dating this project wouldn't exist. At the University of Oregon, Caroline is majoring in English and Jack in History, and both of us deeply enjoy movies and tend to have an interest in them beyond that of a casual viewer.

We know that this is a crazy endeavour that may end before we even get halfway through the list, or could eventually result in both of our descents into deep psychosis. That aside, we both want to watch all of the films on the list anyway, so we might as well make something out of it. And who knows, maybe it won't drive us mad and we actually will make it through all thousand films. That's the hope, anyway.

Now for the technical stuff:
There will be one post for every film. Each post will be divided into two parts, one written by Jack, one by Caroline. They will be distinguished by the fact that Caroline's parts will be in italics. All posts may contain spoilers, but we will try to make a point to acknowledge coming spoilers within each individual post.