The 100: Chapter 1 100 and 99

Who doesn't love a list?

I devour the BFI Best Films of All Time list whenever they deem it necessary to revise and (invariably) disagree with most of the findings, but I still get a kick out of browsing. Same with Rolling Stone's inane Best 100 Albums (how does Sgt. Pepper drop from #1 to #24 in the latest incarnation?); the anger I feel subsides when I see they've put a couple of Aerosmith albums on the list! We all disagree with that number one but we keep right on scrolling through each choice.

This project, which has been percolating for quite a while, originated from the constant back-and-forth "good-natured bickering" between John Scoleri and myself. John invariably loves everything and I hate it all (for more of the discourse, I advise one and all to pick up a copy of bare•bones print magazine and read our debates about streaming and movie theaters to get a taste). I began to think it would be fun to compose a Favorite (as opposed to Best) 100 and compare our selections. Making it even more tantalizing, I managed to talk the third head of Ghidorah, Jack Seabrook, into participating. This could be interesting, since John's never seen a movie the two Georges (Romero and Lucas) didn't have a hand in, and Jack usually favors the flicks that have words at the bottom of the screen (dis-moi que j'ai tort, Jack!). I, on the other hand, can't wait to educate these two gentlemen as to what constitutes good cinema.

Every Thursday for the next 51 weeks (Christmas week off!), we'll count down our picks two at a time. We're hoping this will generate discourse outside of our trio. Let us know just how crazy we are for loving a comedy about two Brits touring the restaurants of Europe or a bloodless 1950s western about a gunless gunslinger with an annoying brat sidekick. This is going to be fun! —Peter

Ronin (1998)

Starring: Robert DeNiro, Jean Reno, Stellan Skarsgard

Director: John Frankenheimer

    Sam: Whenever there is any doubt, there is no doubt. That's                     the first thing they teach you.

    Vincent: Who taught you?

    Sam: I don't remember. That's the second thing they teach you.

Four years before Jason Bourne became an action hero, Ronin combined espionage with French Connection-esque stunt driving and a captivating (if overly-complicated) plot. DeNiro plays Sam, a mystery man with particular skills, who joins a group of (what seems to be) mysterious soldiers of fortune hired to steal a briefcase off the wrist of yet another mystery man. Who are these guys (and gal)? Who hired them? Who is the guy with the briefcase? What’s in the briefcase? 

Though most of the questions are never answered, we do discover (in a expository-stuffed finale) that Sam is actually CIA and his job is to take down the “boss”, Seamus (Jonathan Pryce). Anyone else who gets in the way, evidently, is collateral damage as we see by the copious amount of innocent bystander corpses littering the background in the action scenes. Is Seamus an IRA bigwig? Who knows? Do I care? Not one bit.

In fact, the entirety is riddled with such enigmas and that only adds to my love of the film. The set pieces, in particular the insanely exciting ten-minute car chase through Paris, are all first rate. The dialogue is witty and believable (exactly what you’d come to expect from David Mamet).  DeNiro can hmmph a little too much, coming off like that obligatory grumpy old man but you can tell he’s treating this disposable thriller as serious as he would a Scorsese role. He’s got a dynamite supporting cast as well, with Skarsgard, Reno, and a blink-and-you’ll-miss-him Sean Bean all generating legit tough guy vibes. And what’s in that briefcase? Only Frankenheimer and his writers, Mamet and Zeik, know for sure. 

I saw this on opening weekend at a local multiplex, having not heard anything about it other than the cast and the director, and was absorbed right from the Hammer Films-esque titles to DeNiro’s final visit to the Paris cafe. It remains a perfect Friday night rewatch. —Peter

Remarks from the Gallery

John: This is probably in my top five DeNiro performances. Infinitely re-watchable, and I love the use of Sean Bean (who I was a fan of after first seeing him in Patriot Games). It's pretty damn impressive that Frankenheimer was almost 70 when he made this.  

Jack: I saw this when it came out but don't remember much about it. I've never been a big DeNiro fan.

The Trip (2010)

Starring: Steve Coogan, Rob Brydon

Director: Michael Winterbottom

"Gentlemen! To bed! For we rise at 9:30...ish." 

Steve Coogan plays himself as a conceited but very funny jerk, whose insecurities lead to hilarity. Rob Brydon plays himself as a likeable guy with infinite patience who leads a happier, domestic life than his pal, who envies Rob's success with impressions and a funny little voice called "Small Man in a Box."

Steve is hired to tour fancy restaurants in the north of England and, when his girlfriend backs out, he asks Rob to accompany him. Much of the dialogue was improvised and it's a riot, especially when the duo start trading impressions of movie stars such as Michael Caine and Sean Connery. Their riff on British soldiers preparing for battle the next day is classic. —Jack

Remarks from the Gallery

Peter: Oh yeah, one of my favorite comedies. This was actually an edited down version of a 6-episode series (the shorter edit is, in my opinion, the better format) that you might still be able to stream here and there. Though each subsequent trip to the well has met with so-so results, there are still enough "Brydon/Coogan sitting in a restaurant making noise" scenes to make the three sequels watchable.

John: I think Peter must have recommended this to me. It was definitely the best of the... Trips... though to be perfectly honest, I have little distinct recollection of this one outside the Caine/Connery discussion. 

Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told (1967)

Starring: Lon Chaney, Jr., Sid Haig, Jill Banner

Director: Jack Hill

"Just because something isn't good doesn't mean it's bad."

My first exposure to Jack Hill's black comedic masterpiece was from a clip on the Zacherle's Horrible Horror compilation tape. The two scenes included Jill Banner attacking (and slicing off the ear of) mailman Mantan Moreland when she catches him in her 'spiderweb', and caretaker Bruno (Chaney) returning home with Ralph (Haig — in what is an amazing performance before he became typecast as generic thug #1). Beverly Washburn also appears as the other daughter in a family suffering from a regressive syndrome leading to cannibalism. 

It's funny, it's creepy, at times it's downright sleazy... and I love every minute of it. It's got a great Ronald Stein score, and Chaney even sings the film's theme song! This film introduced me to Jill Banner, who I was instantly smitten with, and I was devastated to learn that she died in a car accident at the age of 35. Jack Hill has made many entertaining films in his career, but nothing that stands out quite like Spider Baby. When things were touch and go about what would make it on to my list, and what didn't make the cut, I had to hold the line on this one. —John

Remarks from the Gallery

Jack: I've heard of it but I've never seen it. I've always liked Lon Chaney, Jr., but I'm not sure I want to see him in decline like this.

Peter: Way too goofy for my tastes. Obviously I love sleaze but Spider Baby is just icky. That's the intent, I understand, it's just not my bag, baby. Watching Chaney in the last few years of his life, bloated and showing the effects of drinking an entire liquor store every day, is depressing as all hell.

Shane (1953)

Starring: Alan Ladd, Van Helfin, Jean Arthur

Director: George Stevens

Shane: So you're Jack Wilson.

Jack Wilson: What's that mean to you, Shane?

Shane: I've heard about you.

Jack Wilson: What have you heard, Shane?

Shane: I've heard that you're a low-down Yankee liar.

Jack Wilson: Prove it.

I think I only came around to this one after a couple of viewings. A lot of the pre-1960 movies I caught on my grandmother’s TV (as a kid in the early ‘70s), a by-product of my grandfather’s love for westerns (in particular, John Wayne westerns). It might have been that Shane didn’t have enough to hold my pre-teen interest; there’s not a lot of horse riding nor does it lean on violence. It’s famous for its peaceful moments. Like John Wayne in The Quiet Man, Shane is a guy who turns his back on his violent past;  he just wants to be left alone while on his journey “home.” When the inevitable showdown finally arrives, it’s a kick in the nuts (and for a lot of western fans, I'd wager the moment comes off as anticlimactic) after so much simmering. Jack Palance is perfect as the oily, eerily calm gunfighter, Wilson, come to roust settler Van Heflin and family off their land. 

Clint Eastwood lifted the murder of fellow settler Stonewall (Elisha Cook, Jr.) for his Pale Rider but I think this version, much less bloodier, is far more effective. It’s a relief that director Stevens (whose next project would be the epic Giant, a flick polar opposite in scope of Shane) and writer A. B. Guthrie wisely avoided the cliche of Shane and Marian becoming entangled in extra-marital nonsense. The only flaw is an annoyingly cutesy-pie performance by young Brandon De Wilde (inexplicably nominated for Best Supporting Actor that year), who spends the length of the film staring into the camera and crying “Shane! Shane! Come in for dinner, Shane!” Or “Shane! Shane! Teach me how to shoot, Shane!” 

In the end, it’s the never-better Ladd who makes the most lasting impression; he says more with just a look than most actors say with a page of dialogue. What happens to our wounded hero at the climax of the film? Slumping in the saddle, heading up into the high country, I like to think he’s entering his house justified. —Peter

Remarks from the Gallery

John: It's been years since I've seen it, but I do have fond memories of it. Not enough to crack my top 100, though. 

Jack: Definitely one of the great '50s westerns. Jack Palance makes a great villain. That kid is kind of annoying, though.

Chinatown (1974)

Starring: Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway

Director: Roman Polanski

One of the best neo-noir detective films, Chinatown holds up well on rewatching. For my money, Jack Nicholson is the best movie actor of the 1970s. He gives a great performance as Jake Gittes, a somewhat sleazy P.I. who does divorce work and gets involved in a case that ends up involving murder. The scene where Roman Polanski cuts Nicholson's nostril with a blade is still hard to watch.

As I was watching, I was thinking about the title. At one point, Jake remarks something like, "Chinatown is where nothing is what it seems to be." That sums up what happens in the movie as a whole. The ending, where the relationship between Faye Dunaway's character and John Huston's character is clarified, is horrifying. Huston is barely in the movie, but his scenes are unforgettable.

Should Chinatown be higher on my list than #99? Maybe so. That will continue to be an issue I struggle with as we work our way through our favorite 100 movies — how to put them in order? —Jack

Remarks from the Gallery

John: This one is not among my 100 favorites list because it's on a different list — the, "I own it, but I've not yet seen it," list. I have a hunch that I'll enjoy it when I do get around to it, but will it make my top 100? I will second what Jack says. Compiling a list of 100 favorites is one thing — ranking them in order can be a torturous process! 

Peter: It's been decades since I revisited this one so I popped it in and was stunned at how dark this picture is throughout; I mean, yeah, it's got that reputation but how the hell did Polanski ever get this greenlit? Unrelentingly grim. I'm a little more hot-and-cold about Jack's performances in the 1970s; he found that schtick and mined it for everything it was worth, culminating in the over-the-top The Shining. Still, with this, Five Easy Pieces, and The Last Detail, he's definitely in the conversation for Top Five Actors of the '70s.

A Mighty Wind (2003)

Starring: Michael McKean, John Michael Higgins, Fred Willard

Director: Christopher Guest

"There was abuse in my family, but it was mostly musical in nature."

Christopher Guest has a ridiculous batting average when it comes to his improvisational features. In A Mighty Wind, he brings together several groups of past-their-prime folk singers to honor a famous producer who has passed on. From The Folksmen (made up of Michael McKean, Harry Shearer and Christopher Guest — a trio that had opened for Spinal Tap on tour for years before this film was ever conceived) to The New Main Street Singers (led by John Michael Higgins, with no shortage of hilarious insight provided by their manager, played by Fred Willard), to the vocal duo of Mitch and Mickey (Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara), there is plenty of opportunity for antics that only Christopher Guest's stock company can deliver. This is one of those great comedies where I know I will be in tears laughing before it's over, every time I watch it.

And as is the case in several of Guest's films, the songs are performed brilliantly — and catchy! Worth picking up the soundtrack, without a doubt. The songs are so good that the cast was able to go out on tour as the three bands, and they were just as good performing live as they were in the film. —John

Remarks from the Gallery

Jack: I saw this first-run in a theater and enjoyed it. I especially liked the way they nailed the changes in fashion and hairstyle through the years. When I was a kid, I listed to my parents' folk albums and this could've fit right in.

Peter: As I suspect might happen several times in the next year, I have to admit to never seeing A Mighty Wind. I saw the first hour or so of Best in Show and didn't appreciate the style of humor (the style being that the humor is not funny). Now that I'm 20+ years older, might I give these Christopher Guests a(nother) try? Probably not. Although my stepdaughter pressured me into watching Schitt's Creek and I'm enjoying that, so you never can tell.