Judge, Juror #2, and Executioner

In this era of female empowerment, a name from the past that must be highlighted is Dorothy Arzner. Starting as a typist in the film business for director William C. de Mille (the older brother of Cecil), less than a year later, she had worked her way up to screenwriter, soon after, promoted to editor. Editing star Rudolph Valentino’s Blood and Sand, her impressive skill was immediately evident. Continuing to do stellar work, she eventually threatened to move from Paramount to rival Columbia if not given a directorial job, the studio conceding in 1927. The only major female director in Hollywood during its “Golden Age”, she was able to transition from silent films to talkies (the first female director to make one), and, while filming 1929's The Wild Party, is credited with essentially developing the first boom mike – some say it was to help star Clara Bow get over her fear of talking on camera, others to end her frustration of always having to hide a microphone in one spot on set. . . in any case, she had technicians rig a microphone onto a fishing rod, solving the problem (and, though she did not patent the idea, Edmund H. Hansen did one year later, she is credited with its invention).

Perhaps the end of something very special. . . that is, if Daniel Day-Lewis does follow through and retire from acting after his most recent lauded performance in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Academy Award Best Picture nominee Phantom Thread. It is this nuanced role that will bookend a career that has consisted of six deserving nominations and three well earned Oscars (four, if he wins this year). At the heart of this tale of gothic romance (Anderson’s narrative and classic visual aesthetic reminiscent of movies like Rebecca), Reynolds Woodcock (Day-Lewis) is a renowned dressmaker (circa the 1950s), a man who, like his flawlessly tailored clothing (he hides secrets in the work), expects everything to be just perfect. He is peculiar in his cleanliness and rigidity – every hair in its place, absolute quiet at breakfast (his entire day ruined if his stringent routine interrupted). . . obsessive in every which way, including in that he is still haunted by the death of his mother. An example of this fiefdom of rules and attitude – after tea is brought to him at the wrong time, he exasperatingly exclaims, “the tea is going out; the interruption is staying right here with me”.

The third and final part of filmmaker Luca Guadagnino’s thematic ‘Desire’ trilogy (following 2015's A Bigger Splash and 2009's I Am Love), 2017's Call Me by Your Name once again challenges its audience with themes of love (sometimes first) and loss, desire, sexuality and so much more. Nominated for four Academy Awards this 2018 (including Best Picture), the story, set in 1983, follows seventeen year old Elio (Timothée Chalamet – nominated for Best Actor in a Leading Role), a whip smart, though somewhat aloof and self-conscious teen who is spending the summer with his family in Northern Italy – he is a voracious reader and talented musician (a near prodigy). His father, Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg), is an archaeology professor who has invited a graduate student, Oliver (Armie Hammer), to aid him as a research assistant.

An influential and innovative director that is sadly unknown to multiple generations of movie enthusiasts is Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein, who would have turned one hundred and twenty a couple of weeks ago on January 10th. Best known for Battleship Potemkin (a laudable feature that will be reviewed here in due course), those in the know also point to his first full length motion picture, Strike, as being a vital piece of film history (it is often cited along with Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane as being one of the most audacious and impressive efforts by a first time filmmaker). Released in 1925 (the same year as Potempkin), though set in 1903, the aptly named picture, told in six parts, looks at a factory workers’ strike in pre-Revolutionary Russia. A fascinating study of early socialism versus capitalism from the Soviet perspective, the workers are close to their tipping point. . . looking for better hours, higher pay, less work for the child labourers and other such things. With the elite sensing their waning drive, they warn their spies on the inside to keep both eyes open for civil unrest – each of these men have an animalistic nickname, their personas connected to the beast they have been named for.

1930's Hollywood films are rather intriguing. Though hit hard by the Great Depression (much like everywhere else), the escapism of movies still brought 60-75 million people into theatres each and every week (and, these numbers are for the worst times of the decade). The 30s also harkened in the era of the talkie – quickly putting an end to the silent film industry. The decade can also be split into two distinct periods: the five years before the Motion Picture Production Code (sometimes called the Hays Code) officially came into being (often referred to as the Pre-Code), and the five years after it was put into place – meaning that there was now a strict set of rules and regulations that were being strongly enforced. Both a curse and a blessing (many of the most talented directors found creative and visually clever ways to circumvent the Code – DeMille and Hitchcock are two that immediately come to mind), it did limit creative freedom in a major way, as sex, violence and language were severely censored – movies could no longer depict lacking morals (that is, unless the behaviour would be punished in the end).