A few week's back, I used this weekly column to discuss the Best Actor race of 1967. It was a fine category that included some of the all-time great cinematic thespians giving some of their finest performances (such as Spencer Tracy, Paul Newman, and Dustin Hoffman) and in the article, I expressed my great love for the year (in terms of cinema) in general. Now I'm not a wine connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination (I've never found a wine that compelled me to take more than a few sips before I quickly tired of the taste), so I never really understood what wine enthusiasts mean when they call some particular year a "good year". Is it just a catch phrase they brandish to illustrate their supposed vast intelligence and expertise on the matter? Like some sort of wino's credentials to prove your worthy of being in the club (the coldness of the top wine aficionados is reminiscent of how Nazi elites would plainly ask to "see your papers"). Or, at least for some, is there real meaning in that phrase? For instance, maybe a certain year had greater precipitation than most, and that lead to a larger mean grape size, which somehow creates a more alluring taste. Like I said, I know next to nothing about wine, so I'm totally spitballing here, but I do know a little bit about cinema, and I can vouch that 1967 was indeed a vintage year.
This is why, merely a few weeks later, I'm already back. There is something about 1967 that just won't let go of it's hold. My hypothesis to the siren-like spell 1967 has over me is just the pure excitement that can be sensed in films from the year. As you may have heard me express before, the 1950's was an abysmal decade for the advancement of film as an art. While, as always, their are exceptions, in general, the films of 1950's gave in to every negative impulse of drama. Maybe in a vain attempt to differentiate itself from the incoming threat of television, the auteur's answer to everything in the 1950's was apparently, "Let's make it bigger". The "issues" were bigger, the "emotions" were bigger, the "realism" was bigger, and sometimes the screen was just literally larger, but whatever the case, like a man with a bruised ego, it was all hot air. The only cinematic neophytes of the era who were able to cut through the hyperbole and find something meaningful were the actors James Dean and Marlon Brando, the former who would not survive the excesses of the era, and the latter who would only be able to cover up serious emotional problems (including a massive eating disorder) for about the span of the decade. By the early 1960's, the first signs of a new understanding of what cinema was and could be began to emerge, but all too commonly the films were dragged down by the left over traditions of the previous era. It was finally in 1967 though, that the break became clear. A new generation was in town and they were not at all satisfied with the way things had been. This new generation would go on to create the greatest decade in cinema history, 1970's, but it was in its roots, 1967, that you find the most excitement. The new auteurs were still honing their craft, but what they lacked in polish they made up for with an abundance of passion. This emotional devotion to creation is palpable, which is why 1967 is the brilliant year that it is.
For the most part, though probablY filled with old-timers of the Hollywood of yesteryear, the Academy did a decent job recognizing the films of the new generation. The largest glaring omission, and the film that is actually my favorite of the year (it ranked in at #5 in my all-time list), is "Cool Hand Luke". The film and the character "Cool Hand Luke" is one of the coolest creations in film history, the ultimate rebel (a much less self-aware version of " A Rebel Without a Cause"), a true existential warrior. How the Academy passed over the film, especially in favor of one miserable film I will be discussing briefly, is a mystery that I frankly don't want to uncover (or to be fair to the Academy, they did honor the film in a number of other areas). Another great American film that should have received consideration for the top prize is "The Dirty Dozen", a fun "group of men on a mission" movie that would later influence such great work as Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds". Finally, there are two films from around the era whose eligibility is questionable. The first is Sergio Leone's "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly". The film was first released in 1966, but did not receive an American release until 1967, so I don't know what year the Academy considered it eligible. Which ever year it fell under the proper eligibility though, it should have been nominated. Finally, the last case is "The Battle of Algiers", which is a strange case indeed. First released internationally in 1966, and receiving an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Film in that year, the film would not receive an American release until 1967. However, somehow the film managed to receive Oscar nominations for Best Director and Screenplay in 1968, hopping over 1967. Had it been eligible though, it too should have absolutely been included into the list of the year's five best films. Now though, it's on to the actual nominees.
5. "Doctor Dolittle"
In a year of such abundance of great films, there is no excuse for why something as dreadful as "Doctor Dolittle" managed to receive an Oscar nomination for Best Picture. And this just isn't hindsight talking either. When the nominees were announced at the time, there was a huge outcry over this nomination. The film was an absolute critical and commercial flop, pretty much ending the career of leading man Rex Harrison, and the casual observer was befuddled as to how such a universally derided film could receive praise from one of the most prestigious film bodies in the world. Insiders, while maybe dismayed, were not so flummoxed as to how the film stole the nomination from a number of more worthy nominees. All they had to do, as is almost always the case, is follow the money. The studio behind the film, 20th Century Fox, held elaborate promotional parties for members of the Academy in hopes that their efforts would be reciprocated with Oscar nominations and their efforts were not in vain (dispelling the notion that only the Hollywood Foreign Press is open for bribes). In fairness towards the film in my own analysis, I should point out that it has been many years since I have seen the film, but my response was strong enough that I know it is not an experience that I wish to repeat. "Doctor Dolittle", loosely based on novels by Hugh Lofting about a veterinarian who talks with animals, was an attempt by the studio to cash in on the recent musical successes of "My Fair Lady" and "The Sound of Music", but while those films were adaptations of musicals that had already successfully debuted on stage, this was a haphazard attempt to duplicate those films and their monetary success. The result of this executive/committee made film is a paint-by-numbers affair that is exactly how it appears, a poor attempt to recreate something without any original voice or author. In other words, a complete and utter mess. The film has a score of 6.0 on IMDb, which is the lowest score I can recall seeing for a film nominated for Best Picture. The only thing from the film that has managed to somewhat stand the test of time, is the incredibly schmaltzy song "Talk with the Animals". When that's all you have to show for yourself, you don't have much to be proud of.
4. "Guess Whose Coming to Dinner"
Being the late 1960's, any Oscar lineup for Best Picture would be incomplete without some "issue" film that liberals could pat themselves on the back for nominating proving once again how Hollywood is always "a step ahead" of most of the nation in terms of moral superiority (which George Clooney, I'm sure very reluctantly, had to point out during his Best Supporting Actor Oscar acceptance speech in 2006). In this case, the crusade that Hollywood threw it's support behind was the Civil Rights Movement, specifically in this film taking up the flag for interracial marriage. As much as I usually despise "soapbox" films (another frequent problem of films in the 1950's), here's the thing, 1967 was so groovy that even something as purely issue driven and reliant on a concept as "Guess Whose Coming to Dinner" is much better than it has any right being. I guess that's 1967 for you, just too damn cool to settle for the stereo-typical. As I mentioned in my review of the film (which you can read by clicking
here), the reason "Guess Whose Coming to Dinner" manages to transcend it's contrived concept, on-the-nose dialogue, character manipulation, and it's all-around pompous, patronizing attitude, is an amazing display of the acting prowess by the experienced cast (with the exception Katherine Houghton, who got the job by being Katherine Hepburn's niece). Katherine Hepburn, Sidney Poitier, and especially Spencer Tracy in his last role (he died just days after the completion of filming), all knock the roles out of the ballpark, somehow managing to create something real and compelling out of something inauthentic and convoluted. As I've said before and we continual to say, no other film owes more to it's actors than "Guess Whose Coming to Dinner" (Stanley Kramer should have denoted his earnings from the film to the actor's charity of choice), and, as I hate to admit given the name of this blog, goes to show that "auteur theory" is not the film equivalent to Einstein's "Theory of Relativity".
3. "Bonnie and Clyde"
Originally viewed as a "B" movie by the studio (and as such, was initially only shown in small theaters and drive-ins), the film soon received raved reviews from critics as well as a quickly growing fanbase among the youth of America. Before the studio new it, "Bonnie and Clyde" was the surprise hit of the year. Frankly though, I can't blame the studio for looking at the movie as a "B" movie, because in a lot of ways, that's exactly what it is. Based loosely on the string of Depression-era bank robberies committed by Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty), Bonnie Parker (Faye Dunaway), and their gang, the film is not really concerned with getting all the small details of Bonnie and Clyde's life right (the film is definitely not in the bio-pic mode), instead opting for a more romanticized tale of misfits against the world. The film moves pretty quickly from one scene to the next, giving you the jest of what their going for, and then without much nuance, jumps into to the next broad-stroked tableau. The film's use of violence, which was extremely controversial at the time, also feels a bit exploitive, which is yet another element the film has in common with its less widely acclaimed "B" movie brethren. Finally, the film has a real sense of fun, which is usually the only saving grace of the better "B" movies. Of course, the film is quite a few steps ahead in many departments compared with the average "B" movie. For one, the acting in "Bonnie and Clyde", headlined by great performances from the two leads, is much better than your typical performances in the average cheap films of the day. The direction from Arthur Penn and the film's script (written by David Newman and Robert Benton, along with some uncredited contributions from Robert Towne) is also a notch or two above what you would expect from a "drive-in" film. Finally, probably my favorite part of the film, and the thing that real gives it some tonal cohesion, is the excellent use of Bluegrass music, with a soundtrack almost exclusively made up of Flatt & Scruggs & the Foggy Mountain Boys. While I don't quite see it as the classic that some do, it was certainly befitting of the times, and another reason why 1967 was such a great year for the movies.
2. "In the Heat of the Night"
The eventual winner of the award, "In the Heat of Night" is a perfect example of how to make a great movie that tackles an "issue" (in this case, racism). Unlike "Guess Whose Coming to Dinner", "In the Heat of the Night" (although it too has great performances) doesn't rely on its actors to bail it out. Based on a novel by John Ball, the film tells the story of an African-American detective from Philadelphia, Virgil Tibbs (played with great poise by Sidney Poitier), who gets coerced into solving a murder mystery in the heart of the racist South. Along with the already existing tensions among the people of the town, each with their own dark secrets, the good ol' boys of the South don't none too appreciate a black man from the north poking the beehive, heightening the suspense even further than would normally be. And that's what so great about the movie, everything serves the purpose of the story. While it does tangentially (and effectively) touch on the issues of racism in the South at that period and time in America's history, it never does so at the expense of the film's tone. "In the Heat of the Night" is first and foremost a murder mystery, and it executes all the tropes of the genre with impeccable style and flawless confidence (under the careful hand of its director, Norman Jewison). Another strong point of the film is the authenticity of the characters. Not everyone in the small Mississippi town is racist to same degree (like Rod Steiger's character for instance), and even Tibbs himself must overcome his (justified) prejudice to see the real truth of what's going on. When murder mysteries are done right, it is a hard genre to beat, and with a good story, excellent writing, assured direction, and career best performances from two very talented actors, "In the Heat of the Night" is one of the best in the genre.
1. "The Graduate"
Coming in at number eight in my all-time favorite films countdown I did a few months back, "The Graduate" is one of the most unique films in cinema history. I have yet to see any film, from any era, match the genius style and pacing of the film. Simultaneously funny, insightful, sad, and romantic, this incredible combination is masterfully mixed, in one of the greatest autuer works in cinema history by Mr. Mike Nichols, into some coherent tale of existential angst. If you think "The Graduate" is just about some kid sleeping with some old lady (like I did going in), you're in for a big surprise. Based on a book by Charles Webb and adapted for the screen by Calder Willingham and (the always arrogant) Buck Hnery, "The Graduate" tells the story of one Benjamin Braddock (in a superb performance by the great Dustin Hoffman), a recent college graduate who has now come home and is looking to embark on the journey called life. The only problem though is Benjamin has absolutely zero clue what he wants to do with his life. He gets a lot of advice from his elders ("Plastics"!), but none of these ideas seem satisfactory to Benjamin. He is a soul adrift at sea, a man without purpose. Benjamin eventually finds some meaning to his life when he, somewhat reluctantly at first, strikes up an affair with a much older woman, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), who happens to be the wife of his father's business associate. The tryst gives Benjamin something to hold onto, finally feeling not like a boy, but in his eyes, a real man. This false bravado evaporates though, when much to the dismay of Mrs. Robinson, he is forced by his parents to take the Robinson's daughter Elaine (Katherine Ross), out on a date. After an initial horrible start, the young couple soon fall in love, but Benjamin's affair with Mrs. Robinson soon threatens to end the relationship. Much more than the simple story though, it's how it's told: with humor, philosophy, and poetry. An insane mix that is one of the prime examples of what the medium of film can accomplish that no other art form can. The film famously also has a beautiful score composed by Simon and Garfunkel, in what has to be one of the most perfectly image/music synching in the history of cinema. If you can't tell yet, I love "The Graduate", and as great as "In the Heat of the Night" is, "The Graduate", without a doubt, would be my choice to win Best Picture.
That's it for now, so until next week, leave your commits down below.
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