BFI Top 50: La Dolce Vita, Released in 1961 and directed by Federico Fellini

What I know going in

A gossip journalist sort of descent into madness. Not really sure where this one is gonna take me.

Immediate Reaction

Any time I don’t have some type of immediate, visceral reaction to one of these films, it becomes really hard for me to start writing about it. I found La Dolce Vita really difficult to engage with. I encountered a similar problem with Gertrud. One similarity between the two films is that they feature very dense dialogue that is often about very heady topics such as love, the purpose of life, truth, and artistic merit. My two favorite films of all time, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, also cover similar topics and the dialogue in those movies is one of my favorite aspects about them. Of course, those two movies are in English and it’s easy for me to follow what the characters are saying, and it seems that when the same topics are covered in a different language and I have to read subtitles it is harder for me to follow along. It also creates a barrier between me and the characters and prevents me from getting completely emotionally invested in what is happening.

So that’s one caveat regarding my opinion of the film. I found it very hard to engage with the film. Everything just kind of happened and didn’t seem to have any dramatic stakes. I personally wasn’t able to sympathize with any of the characters, even Marcello, because I never felt that I learned enough about them to really care. The film is structured as seven episodes, which takes place over the course of seven days, which may or may not take place in a completely linear manner. While this is an interesting structure, it would have been cool seeing how these random events affect Marcello over a week, the events were just too random for me to really build to anything. I guess Marcello gradually unravels near the end, he tries to incite an orgy for instance, but it was hard for me to understand where that anger came from as he is such a passive character. Even the advertising of the film confused. Anita Ekberg is prominently displayed on the poster. In fact, when she showed up, I thought the rest of the film would focus on Marcello trying to woo her. However, her character just kind of disappears after being onscreen for like 20ish minutes. Again, I found this very loose structure hard to deal with.

The only theme I was really able to decipher is the film’s indictment of the paparazzo culture. It shows these photographers and journalists as just complete amoral animals. They view the arrival of an American actress, a phony sighting of the Madonna, and double murder suicide as only a chance to get some juicy pictures. I found all of the paparazzo really annoying and would have loved to see them get some weird karmic backlash at the end of the film. In that regard, I empathize with Marcello’s desire to move out of the paparazzo business and create some type of lasting impact through literature. The film also has a very heavy focus on actresses, actors, models, aristocrats, and artists. A lot of these people are not portrayed in a sympathetic light. For example, on the last day, Marcello walks around a castle with a random posse he has come across. All of them act just completely silly, stupid, seem really empty and disengaged with life. In that sense, the film may also be a general critique of modern Italian society at the time. Hopefully I will uncover more of that thread when I work though some of the supplemental materials on the disc.

Further thoughts

Richard Shickel’s commentary was useful in helping me get a better grasp on what exactly the film was going for. As Americans, I think we have a tendency to view Europe in a simplified manner. Most Americans when they think of Europe, see it as a place to escape the drudgery and blandness of life in the USA. We imagine going to Europe will allow us to have fun, sexy adventures in beautiful locales. France and Italy probably suffer the most in our imagination and they are seen as a place of romance and passion. I believe that La Dolce Vita is a critique to that American viewpoint. On the surface, Marcello’s life would seem exciting. He lives in Rome, has sexy sports car, works for an entertainment newspapers, sleeps around, and gets to hang out with celebrities. However, as the film progresses, it is revealed that Marcello feels very empty and is unable to go beyond his surface desires. He can’t commit to the various women he chases after and is unable to remove himself from his paparazzi gig, despite expressing a desire to do so. The end of the movie makes it clear that he will be forever lost in a sea of pettiness and constant yearning. This is demonstrated by his inability to hear the teenage waitress near the end of movie. Earlier in the movie Marcello had met this girl in a restaurant and described her as angelic. She clearly represents a more thoughtful way of living, one that Marcello is now unable to attain. Instead, he walks away with a group of flighty individuals and the ending credits sarcastically flash: “La Dolce Vita,” the sweet life.

There are also two key symbols that are helpful in understanding the movie. One at the beginning and one at the end. The beginning symbol is more overt. A plastic statue of Jesus is flown past the ancient ruins of Rome. This is clearly a mockery of Roman Catholic traditions and affront to the rich history of Rome. Fellini is clearly stating that the new modern Rome may look appealing, but dig a little deeper and there’s not a whole lot there. A similar symbol occurs at the end of the movie. A leviathan-esque creature is drudged up from the sea. This ancient creature is poked at and made fun of by Marcello and his gaggle of friends. Something old and deserving of respect is mocked. Hint: substitute Rome for the creature!

Why is it on the list?

The film is a brutal, effective takedown of the supposed modernity of then-current Italian society.

BFI Top 50: Some Like it Hot, Released in 1959 and directed by Billy Wilder

What I know going in

I know it’s a cross-dressing comedy starring Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon, and Marilyn Monroe. The only other Billy Wilder film I have seen is Sunset Boulevard, which I enjoyed immensely and is in my top 10 favorite films of all time, so I am excited to expand my knowledge of Wilder’s filmography. Since the film is a comedy I am interested in the reasons why the film is on the list. Is it daring in its exploration of the sexes, or is simply an incredibly funny film? I guess I’ll find out.

Immediate reaction

It is always interesting to go back and watch old comedies and horror movies. It provides an excellent opportunity to learn about what, in general, was going on in society at the time. Fear and laughter are possibly the two most visceral emotions and determining what makes a set of people afraid, what makes them laugh, and what they find edgy can be very revealing. Apparently, Some Like it Hot, got a “C” (Condemned) rating from the National Legion of Decency and was involved in the ultimate downfall of the production code because released as the equivalent of today’s unrated.

Needless to say, the film is incredibly tame by today’s standards and I have definitely run into a problem trying to judge the film. In general, I did find it enjoyable and it has a great zippy pace that I think would keep most audiences today engaged. Curtis and Lemmon are great in their respective. Lemmon’s character is so committed to cross-dressing that even seems to start to enjoy the film. Is it one of the top 50 greatest films of all time? I personally don’t think so, but maybe I am judging it too harshly because of the expectations the BFI’s list creates. If I had watched the film outside of this marathon, I may have even enjoyed it more. My viewing also made me think about context, which is a problem I had with City Lights as well. Had I seen Some Like it Hot when it came in 1959 I may have been falling out of my seat with laughter. Is it wrong to judge a film in this way? Should a film be able to retain its full power when it is viewed out of context in order to be considered a great film?

Going in, I was expecting the film to provide a critique of male-female relations. The film did have a few moments of satire. When Lemmon and Curtis board the train as women to escape from Chicago, Bienstock pinches Curtis’s ass. When the group arrives at the Florida hotel, the two leads realize that they are constantly being propositioned by men. They even comment on how difficult it is to walk in heels. I hope that when males first saw the movie 1959 (a time not known for progressive views regarding women) that they thought a tiny bit about their own attitudes towards the opposite sex.

This is also the first Marilyn Monroe movie I have seen, and I didn’t much care for her performance. Don’t get me wrong, I think she was very attractive, but not significantly than the other women in the band. I also found Monroe’s character in the film to be so ditzy that she became unappealing and I began to question Curtis’s attraction to the character. Again, this might be a problem with context. If I had come of age when Monroe was the brightest star in Hollywood, maybe I would have found her irresistible.

Further thoughts

I haven’t read anything that is allowing me to delve deeper into the themes of the movie or anything like that, just explanations on why the movie is so funny. Again, I enjoyed my time with the movie, but I just wasn’t able to muster the same enthusiasm for the film that other critics had. Usually, when I have felt nonplussed by a movie as part of this marathon, reading about it or watching supplementary materials has helped me to better understand its goals. In most cases, I end up enjoying the film more than on my initial watch. However, Some Like it Hot didn’t spark the same reaction within me.

Why is it on the list?

I assume to have an example screwball comedy. Every genre of film is important and it would be wrong to not include a certain type of film because it is viewed as less important or inconsequential. That being said, Playtime is also a comedy and I found it to have much more depth and thematic resonance than Some Like it Hot. If it was up to me, I probably wouldn’t put the film on the list.

BFI Top 50: Gertrud, released in 1964 and directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer

What I know going in

I know the film mainly concerns the romantic issues faced by the title character. I have never seen a Dreyer film before, but I know his style is very austere, and he is famous for his use of long takes in cinema.

Immediate Reaction

Gertrud is perhaps the most minimal and still film I have ever watched. Dreyer basically jettison’s every element of film that he deems unnecessary or unimportant. I imagine if someone had interviewed Dreyer before starting the film, he would have answered their questions in the following manner. How many locations are needed? – 3 or 4. What should the set design look like and how decorated should each room be? – Incredibly minimal and bare (the most significant set dressing is a plain mirror with two candles). How much should the camera move and how many cuts should there? – The camera should remain completely still or move incredibly slowly. There should only be 89 cuts (with the average being around 5 or 6 hundred). What about dialogue? – It should be incredibly, to the point, and all extraneous speech or small talk should be removed. What about the actors, how should they behave? – The actors should be nearly motionless, not look at each other, and serve as a delivery device for the dialogue.

I did not really get much out of the main performances. Like I said earlier, the actors don’t really look at each other when speaking, which made all of the interactions feel very unnatural. In addition, the actors mainly sit still and if they do move, it feels like they are walking in slow-motion. The dialogue and acting is also very stiff and I never really felt much emotion poking through. Honestly, the moving didn’t do much for me visually either. While I did find some weird hypnotic fascination in the glacial pace of the film, I felt that the narrative presented in the film would have been equally effective as a radio presentation or a play. Therefore, I am not sure if this really is a great film. If the majority of the experience is not conveyed visually, does that make it a terrible a film (a medium whose main advantage is its visual nature)? Unfortunately, I don’t feel like I am equipped to answer that question. I will probably have to reevaluate it after going through some of the supplemental materials on the disc and reading other reviews.

One interesting aspect of the film is its attitude toward the female protagonist. Portrayals of uncompromising women, unconcerned with the opinions of their male counterparts, are rare even today. Gertrud holds her belief in love to such a high regard that she is unwilling to give her husband and former lover a second chance. Once she learns that Jansson is not fully committed to her, she gives him an ultimatum: devote himself to her or leave altogether. While some might consider her brittle, she is probably one of the strongest woman ever portrayed in a film. With the title character, Dreyer was able to craft one of the finest feminist films ever.

Further thoughts

I have enjoyed reading analyses about the film. Jonathan Rosenbaum wrote an excellent essay detailing the similarities between Gertrud and Dreyer’s own life (similarities that are not necessarily immediately apparent). There is an interesting parallel between Gertrud’s uncompromising quest for love and the complete dedication Dreyer showed in this film. No matter what insults can be thrown at the film (it’s too slow, the characters are not relatable) it is unquestionably Dreyer’s vision. I could not imagine any studio wanting to make a film like Gertrud. It is also an incredibly singular film. I cannot think of a single film that takes a cue from r. There are certainly period drama still being made today, but I have not seen a single one that features the intense stillness, contemplative nature, and graceful quietude of Gertrud. While I may not have enjoyed Dreyer’s final film I can say I will probably never see anything like it again.

Why is it on the list?

Again, I don’t think Getrud is an incredibly influential film. I am very curious of seeing the other works in Dreyer’s filmography to see how the compare to Gertrud. Part of me wonders if Gertrud was simply included ensure that Dreyer was simply well-represented on the list. I would like to revisit my opinions after seeing other Dreyer films and maybe re-watching this film again.

BFI Top 50: Pierrot le Fou, Released in 1965, Directed by Jean-Luc Godard

What I know going in

It’s a French new wave directed by Jean-Luc Godard, that’s it.

Immediate Reaction

I honestly have no idea how to respond to this movie. At no point in the movie did I have any idea what was going on. In fact, I don’t think I even understood the basic plot until I read the Wikipedia summary. Also, I fell asleep about 1/3 of the way through and woke up around 20 minutes later. Of course, I rewound the movie and picked backed up where I fell asleep, but, honestly, looking back I probably could have kept the movie going without missing much. This is not really a knock against the movie, even if you knew the plot in detail; it wouldn’t accurately describe the experience of actually watching it.

I will do my best to narrate my experience of watching the film now. At its most basic, the film concerns the characters of Marianne Renoir, played by Anna Karina, and Ferdinand Griffon, played by Jean-Paul Belmondo, who Marianne has nicknamed Pierrot. They go on a crime spree throughout the French countryside. Although is technically told in a linear manner, the way the film progresses feels like Godard snipped each reel into panels and then randomly pieced them back together. This sensation is created by Godard’s frequent use of jump cuts and very minimal use of exposition. There also several sequences in the film where the two main characters will rapidly talk back and forth about what is happening, while images quickly flash by. In addition, Godard will often zoom in on artwork, posters, and ads that are displayed throughout the film. All of these techniques lead to me feeling very disoriented and confused throughout the entire film.

Obviously, this sensation was intentional on Godard’s part. Whenever a movie is filmed in a distinct manner, I think it’s always important to ask why the director made that choice and if the style fits the characters and themes of the movie. I am having some trouble sussing out the subtext in the film. The radical and abrupt nature in which it was filmed appears to reflect the decade in which it was made. Of course, it was made in the 60’s, a period of rapid and revolutionary societal change. In addition, the film is considered one of the seminal works of the French new wave movement, a changing of the guard in cinema whose main purpose was to break all the rules previously established in filmmaking.

Therefore, I think the chaotic nature of the film is an effective reflection of the turbulent nature of the sixties. The main characters movement from boredom in a bourgeoisie society, to complete free-fall echoes Godard’s disordered style. By extension, one could argue that it also represents decade in general. From moving out of the repressiveness of the fifties to the sixties, in which everyone feels like a thousand different impulses are pulling in them all directions.

Further thoughts

What I love about film is that I find it to be the only medium capable of truly imparting a feeling, impression, or emotional state. The best films cannot be ruined by plot description, because reading a film’s story will never be able to recapitulate how the visual language of film creates and delivers a mood or emotion to a viewer. Realizing this was the key to understanding Pierrot le fou. At the beginning of the movie, Jean-Paul Belmondo’s character recites this line from an art history book:

 “Past the age of fifty, Velasquez no longer painted anything concrete and precise. He drifted through the material world, penetrating it, as the air and the dusk. In the shimmering of the shadows, he caught unawares the nuances of color which he transformed into the invisible heart of his symphony of silence . . . His only experience of the world was those mysterious copulations which united the forms and tones with a secret but inevitable movement, which no convulsions or catacylsm could ever interrupt or impede. Space reigned supreme . . . It was as if some tenuous radiation gliding over the surfaces, imbued itself of their visible emanations, modelling them and endowing them with form, carrying elsewhere a perfume, like an echo, which would thus be dispersed like an imponderable dusk, over all the surrounding planes.”

Later, Ferdinand states that he intends to create about not about specific instances or specific people, but about life and about people in general. These statements mirror Godard’s own desire to make an impressionistic movie. Unfortunately, this is the first Godard film I have seen, so I can’t comment on how much of a break it is from his previous work. However, after reading a few essays about the movie, it does seem that this film was distinct from his earlier movies, which were heavily based on Hollywood genre flicks and more concerned with plot.

In contrast, with Pierrot le Fou, Godard did not want to deal with specifics. As I detailed earlier, he wanted to make a movie that gave the viewer an impression of the 60’s. In addition, Godard had recently divorced Anna Karina during filming, which gives the film an interesting personal twist if one sees Ferdinand as a Godard stand-in. So, the film is also able to impart the emotional fallout between Karina and Godard without really dealing with the specifics of their relationship.

Why is it on the list?

Well, after viewing the film I was left in a very chaotic and confused state of mind. Therefore, I would say Godard was extremely successful in effectively conveying the nature of the times, his own psychological state after divorcing Karina, and his desire to move into a more abstract and impressionistic style of filmmaking.

BFI Top 50: Playtime, Released in 1967, Directed by Jacques Tati

What I know going in

It is a French character directed by Jacques Tati, who stars as his famous Monsiuer Hulot character. I have never seen one of Mr. Tati’s films, but I understand it is a French comedy that satirizes modern French culture. Apparently, Tati built an entire city for this film.

Immediate reaction

Playtime is a delicate comedic symphony, carefully and deliberately conducted by the maestro Jacqes Tati. I have never seen another comedy so intricate, so incredibly well-designed, and so detailed. Every scene is jam-packed with tons of extras that are all off doing their own thing, but never overpower the main action of the scene. The set design is also phenomenal. Tati had to build his own city to create the world of the movie. All of the interiors in the film are designed in a grid-like fashion. Examples include the cubicles in the office building seen near the beginning of the film and the table layout in the restaurant. In addition, most of the buildings have huge, reflective windows. Personally, this design made me feel like I was watching a museum display. In other words, I was aware of the distance between myself and the movie. This was especially evident during the scene where Monsieur Hulot runs into an old army friend, who invites him into his apartment. The viewer is never allowed inside the apartment and must watch everything unfold from the outside. Futhermore, Tati’s design made the Paris shown in the film come off as very artificial and impersonal, the “old” Paris is never really seen (the one time the Eiffel tower is seen in the film is as a reflection).

The people in the film (there aren’t really any characters aside from Monsieur Hulot and an American tourist named Barbara) initially start out by obeying the strict and mechanical layout of the buildings around them. For example, they walk in straight lines and try to maintain absolute order despite the chaos of their surroundings. Since none of these people become the focus of the film and there are absolutely no close-ups, the film becomes more about France at this specific point in time, rather any one person. Based on the slight focus applied to Barbara and Hulot, the two characters who stand out and try not to conform, Tati is imploring the viewer to not follow the straight line, to follow the curves and not conform to the impersonal nature of modern life.

Further thoughts

I’m fascinated that Tati was able to both effective comedy and a highly symbolic film. There are many sequences that function perfectly as comedic set pieces, but by digging just a little deeper, they take on new context and contribute to the film’s themes of alienation in the face of modernity. For example, when Monsieur Hulot breaks the glass door of the restaurant in the second half of the film, it is not only hilarious, but also represents the breakdown of the pretentious and exclusive attitude the restaurant was trying to put forward. Hulot destroys the very thing (glass) that has come to represent alienation and confusion in the film.

In another instance, Barbara tries to take a picture of an old woman selling flowers on a street corner. Sound simple enough right? No, an odd assortment of people keep walking into her view and an American soldier walks by and offers to take Barbara’s picture with the woman (something she probably didn’t want in the first place). Again, this sequence is very funny and one of the highlights of the film. But, if we look at the old woman as an example of the old Paris Tati is so nostalgic for, the sequence takes on a greater meaning. The dress and age of the woman stands out in contrast to the people in black and grey suits who walk by her. The shabbiness of her stand and the natural color of her flowers highlight the cold colors of the buildings around her. Through Barbara’s failure to take the old woman’s picture, Tati is lamenting the lack of that old Paris charm and how it is now impossible capture due technological advancement.

I’m going to paraphrase a review by Philip Kemp, because he has a great observation about Barbara’s scarf at the end that did not even occur to me. Like I mentioned earlier, at the beginning of the film everyone is walking in a straight line and following the path architecture and technology have set out for them. At the end of the film, everyone is walking normally. The final note on this subject comes at the end of the film when Barbara puts on the scarf Hulot has given her: “By the end, she has united the curve and the line (Hulot’s gift, a square scarf, is fitted to her round head).”

Why is it on the list?

It is rare for any film to pack so much symbolism into such simple moments, it is even rarer for a comedy to do the same, and it is perhaps a miracle that Tati was able to combine both comedic and symbolic elements so perfectly.

BFI Top 50: Close-Up, Released in 1990, Directed by Abbas Kiarostami

What I know going in

I have a vague idea that the film is about an Iranian man who pretends to be a film director and control another family. This will be the first Iranian new wave film I have seen. Recently, I watched the director’s, Abbas Kiarostami, film Certified Copy, which I found very intriguing. I am interested in seeing one of the director’s earlier films.

Immediate Reaction

To be honest, this write-up is about a week late. I actually left Close-Up feeling a bit underwhelmed and I could not find an angle to start the discussing the film. Unfortunately, the movie didn’t quite hit me emotionally. I found hard to get engaged with the film, because the majority of it is taken up by the court trial of HossainSabzian. He is being tried for fraud for pretending to be the Iranian director Mohsen Makhmalbaf. During the trial, the camera remains almost completely still, focusing only Sabzian’s face and moving only when the older brother of the family he deceived or the judge begins talking. While in theory, a movie composed mainly of the close-up of one man sounds interesting, I can imagine viewing the emotional arc solely by the small changes in a man’s face would be quite riveting. However, the scenes in the courtroom appeared to be in standard definition or were out of focus, or my copy of the film was messed up. Therefore, I found hard to read Sabzian’s face. Maybe this is point? Maybe we aren’t really meant to get a true “close-up” on Sabzian. Perhaps he is supposed to remain an enigma and maybe this is a commentary on the blending of fiction and reality that happens when viewing any film. That’s my best guess.

From a more academic standpoint, mulling over the film, I realized that I did find Sabzian’s plight quite affecting. I’m sure most of the people who end up seeking out this film are as passionate about cinema as our main subject. Who among us has never dreamed of meeting a famous director, nevertheless actually becoming one? That is why when Sabzian begins to pass himself off as Makhmalbaf, some might call him crazy, but I see a man who will never have the chance to truly express his love for film, and, who, in complete desperation, latches on to the trust of a family and for a brief moment gets to live his dream. That is truly a deeply human, tragic, and inspiring story. Unfortunately, I felt all of this retroactively.

In addition, I have no idea what is reality and what is fiction in this movie. I can’t find the original article online, so maybe the whole story was made up? Maybe it’s all real? The way the film is structured, the scenes in the courtroom and at the prison are definitely presented as reality. There is clear difference to the scenes of the family’s house, which have been reenacted. However, it is possible that courtroom scenes were staged as well. This confusion and inability on my part to separate fact from fiction is definitely intentional, as it mirrors Sabzian’s passion for cinema and his eventual steps toward crossing the line from cinema as fiction to cinema as reality.

Ultimately, I will probably need to watch the film again. I felt the same way about Kiarostami’s Certified Copy, but I have been itching to view again to dissect it some more.

Further Thoughts

The more I read about the film the more confused I get. Apparently, I was right to distrust the courtroom scenes. I had a feeling that dialogue felt a little bit too eloquent. It turns out that Kiarostami basically wrote a script for Sabzian to go off of during the trial. The director claims it was based on actual discussions he had Sabzian, but it adds yet another wrinkle to this reality-bending movie. In addition, the tearful apology by Sabzian to the family he toyed with, was all staged. The family felt that Sabzian had gotten off easy at the trial and wanted nothing to do with him afterward. This does add a kind of insane meta-layer to the whole affair. Sabzian becomes obsessed with fiction to the point where he tries to change his own life, and those of an unassuming family, by becoming a director. Kiarostami, an established director, tries to massage reality into following a typical film narrative by “directing” Sabzian during the courtroom scenes. Sabzian’s and Kiarostami’s actions complement each other by following opposite paths.

Why is this film on the list?

Even though I did not get much of a visceral, emotional reaction from the film, I found it fascinating to think and read about. It has taken me around two weeks to write up this little review, a testament to the layered nature of the film. I would be highly surprised if I see another film that so thoroughly blurs the line between fiction and actual reality.

BFI Top 50: The Battle of Algiers, Released in 1966, Directed by Gillo Pontecorvo

What I know going in

The film details the revolution that took place in North Africa against colonial France during the 50’s. Great film about terrorism or the greatest film about terrorism? I also forgot to mention that I have listened to Ennio Morricone’s score for the film several times (which is great by the way and totally different from his work on various spaghetti westerns).

Immediate thoughts

It is very tempting to completely vilify the French colonialists in the movie. The Arab portion of the city is blocked off and the residents are forced into work during a strike (highly evocative of the Jewish ghettos and forced labor camps of World War II). Random house’s full of civilians are destroyed. Numerous people are subjected to brutal torture (electrocution, burning, waterboarding, and hanging by the limbs to name a few), and it is unknown if the subjects are actually involved in the conflict as the scenes are given no context. Needless to say, these scenes are probably even more relevant today than they were during the time of the film’s release. With the release of the horrible pictures from Abu Ghraib, the film serves as a reminder that the issues surrounding torture have existed for a very long time and remained unsolved.

Even though my own political ideals make me sympathetic with the goal of the Algerian resistance, the film still forced me to deal with the totality and messiness of the situation. I believe even the film supports overthrow of the French, but that doesn’t stop Gillo Pontecorvo (the director) from depicting the atrocities committed by the rebels. This includes gunning down random policemen (who, up to that point, may not have done anything against the native Algerians), and bombing completely innocent people in café’s and horse racetracks. Three women who commit the café bombing are shown hesitating before placing their bombs, clearly showing that they know what they are doing is wrong. The greatest strength of the film is its ability to remain even-handed in its depiction of both sides of the conflict.

To remain so balanced, the film is shot in a style reminiscent of Italian neo-realism. The camera weaves through throngs of people, down countless back alleys, and into the run down apartments of the oppressed Algerians. Its gritty black-and-white immediacy forced me to deal with the human toll of the violence depicted. Every action has a horrible consequence. Each bombing that takes place is followed by the piling-up of several bloodied and mutilated bodies.

Further thoughts

Reading through my Facebook feed the other day, I a comment left by one of my friends caught my eye. "You make mistakes because you're focusing on the target and not your actions." Having just watched the Battle of Algiers, this comment got me thinking. The comment perfectly sums up why all of the horrific violence is allowed to happen throughout the movie. The French police and paratroopers stop seeing the rebels as human and make horrible moral compromises justified by their need to keep control of the country. The rebels are so focused on their goal of liberation that the innocent lives their attacks take are a simple afterthought. The Battle of Algiers represents what happens when people become so dedicated to a cause that they lose their humanity. As Jean Martin's Colonel Mathieu states: "No, gentlemen, believe me, it is a vicious circle."

In addition, I realized that during my viewing of the film, around the halfway point, I began to feel a sense of extreme unease. It wasn't disgust or shock, but a quiet, creeping sense of dread. At a certain point, the endless sequence of bombing, shootings, and torture started to simultaneously numb and unnerve me. Knowing that this type of violence is currently going on in countries such as Syria, and will probably continue long after I pass away, made me want to stop watching and try to think of something positive.

Does it belong on the list?

Yes, if you define a great movie as one that remains relevant far past the time of its release, this is perhaps the greatest movie ever made.