Enter the Dragon

I must confess that I've seen only one other proper kung fu movie in my life, Kung Fu Hustle (2004), which I remember liking a lot. But I have to admit that kung fu isn't my genre of choice. Nevertheless, I enjoyed Enter the Dragon (1973), which is by many accounts one of the great kung fu movies. It's certainly iconic, thanks to Bruce Lee, whose charismatic presence imbues the picture with a kind of mythic enchantment. Bruce Lee seems to wander through this movie like a man in search of his destiny. The picture in some ways happens around him, and he shows up at important moments to either display his impressive ass-kicking skills, or move the plot along (which usually involves the ass-kicking skills).

The film is mostly set on an island near Hong Kong which is inhabited by a man named Han (Shih Kien), who is some kind of rogue kung fu master. Han has departed from the principles of the masters that trained him, much to their chagrin and embarrassment. Not only is Han something of a megalomaniac, he's also a killer. Many young women have ventured onto his island never to be heard from again. Enter Bruce Lee, who is sent to ostensibly take part in Han's big tournament--which he hosts on the island every three years--but really to uncover one of the missing girls, an agent named Mei Ling (Betty Chung), and any information he can get his hands on.

Lee is joined by two other martial artists who are also being enticed to the island, for different reasons: they're played by John Saxon and Jim Kelly. The three of them never form what you might call an official trio, but they do share some common bonds, and as such, you're rooting for them as a group. Plus, John Saxon and Jim Kelly have their own screen presence. Saxon has a funny scene early in the film where he outsmarts three bodyguards on a golf course, and Kelly more than anyone looks like he's having a really good time.

I must admit there were moments in Enter the Dragon where I grew restless. Director Robert Clouse and his editing team could have cut the movie by ten minutes for a more compact picture. But as it goes, Enter the Dragon is a pretty enjoyable piece of bubblegum, and better-made than most of its kind. What impressed me most were the film's sets and the admittedly astonishing staging of the fight choreography, by Bruce Lee. There is one scene in particular that stands out: it's when Lee sneaks out of his room at Han's giant compound and searches the place, eluding multiple guards and fending off several of them. He's lithe and subtle and incredibly deliberate in every physical action he makes. It's really a fascinating scene to watch. (And what about the scene where he captures the cobra and uses it to scare off some guys in a control room?!)

Enter the Dragon is certainly worth seeing, especially if you're interested in furthering your appreciation for genre films of the 1970s. There's something about them that feels so much more authentic and fun than the films that imitate them today. One of the drawbacks of having all these fanboys making movies today is that they're so busy paying homage to the films they loved that they forget that what made those films special was (at least partly) their originality. Nowadays, it's like every genre piece is making some kind of blustering "meta-commentary." Sometimes I just want my films to be films. So thank you, Enter the Dragon, for falling into that increasingly more endangered category. With Ahna Capri and Robert Wall. Sadly, Lee died shortly before the film's release. ★★★

The Exorcist

Thanks to Netflix, I was able to satisfy my desire to revisit The Exorcist (1973), the shocker that caused quite a furor upon its theatrical release, where apparently some viewers couldn't handle its subject matter. Adapted by William Peter Blatty from his bestselling novel (based on actual events of an alleged case of possession, although the sex of the child was changed from a boy to a girl for Blatty's version), and directed by William Friedkin, The Exorcist has garnered a lot of intense debate over the course of its now 37 years of existence: is it groundbreaking, the most terrifying movie ever made, or just simply sick and twisted? Well, maybe a little of everything.

I certainly recommend viewing of this movie only for those with strong stomachs and more importantly strong appetites for supernatural horror. If you actually believe in a spiritual realm, The Exorcist is all the more unsettling, because it bores through the security of 20th century modern America (or, in our case, 21st-century). Much as Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula took the pulse of an end-of-century London that felt superior in its civilized-ness and technological advancement, The Exorcist offers the chilling possibility that all that we see is not all there is, and that forces exist beyond our explanation or control.

Of course 20th-century Catholicism, at least through the lens of this movie, is just as cynical as the rest of the civilized world, and a troubled, spiritually doubting priest named Father Karras (Jason Miller) becomes the last resort of an actress named Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn), whose daughter Regan (Linda Blair) has undergone an inexplicably bizarre change in her personality.

Having exhausted all the scientific and psychological remedies, MacNeil goes against her better judgment in the effort to save her daughter, who's become possessed: she's violent, given to levitation, and rather foul-mouthed, too.

The Exorcist is so cleanly put together, so professionally done, that its technical impressiveness and dramatic "maturity" must have had the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in a tizzy. After all, they'd never had to nominate horror pictures for major Oscars like Best Picture, Director, Actress and Adapted Screenplay before. So despite the fact that The Exorcist may have become dated or altogether relegated to its time period of the 1970s (many people associate the decade with lots of good, important movies, myself included, so this isn't necessarily a negative point), it may deserve more points than we've given it for demonstrating the credibility of horror as a genre, and not just one made to entertain people in some primitive way.

 On the other hand, it's probably true that people flocked to see this movie more than anything because of its sensationalism. The horrible things 12-year-old Regan does to herself, the impressively grotesque make-up effects and the way she spins her head around, the myriad demonic voices (created in part with the talents of actress Mercedes McCambridge), and of course the green vomit, are nothing but sensationalistic. It's a mixture of "high," "sophisticated" 70's drama (at times Burstyn reaches delightful levels of histrionics) and Grand Guignol of the ickiest nature.

Max von Sydow, in a pivotal role at the end (and briefly at the beginning) as the starchy-white old exorcist, has a wonderful line in reference to the demon--or Devil--inside Blair: "He will mix the truth with lies to confuse us." I thought it was wonderful. The music is also noteworthy, particularly Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells" but also the creepy strings used throughout.

Overall, The Exorcist might be worth seeing if you have an interest in demonic possession and want to see it Hollywoodized 1970's style, or if you're in the mood for spine-tingling thrills mixed with moments of unexpected laughter. Sometimes when the devil speaks you can't do anything but laugh. If you want something a little less graphic but still quite fascinating, try 2005's The Exorcism of Emily Rose with Laura Linney and Tom Wilkinson.

With Lee J. Cobb, Kitty Winn, and Jack MacGowran. ★★★½

The Long Goodbye

The Long Goodbye (1973) At first glance this belated film noir, a tongue-in-cheek adaptation of the novel by Raymond Chandler, seems like an inferior installment in a long tradition of hard-boiled detective thrillers. It doesn’t go for the swaggering style of its 1940s ancestors. It’s pre-Chinatown and The Late Show, and those two mysteries echo this one’s detached, hardened tone. Elliott Gould is not Humphrey Bogart, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.
I wasn’t thrilled by Gould’s incessant mumblings to himself, whether or not this is a nuance of character Gould was going for or just a learned acting trait, but what I think Gould did well for the character of private eye Philip Marlowe was to give him a sense of isolation from the world. The camera seems distant from him too, making the viewer not so much a Dr. Watson type tag-along as a curious bystander, a voyeur tripping along at Marlowe’s heals as he pursues a handful of loose ends with a dull pair of scissors.
In a 1940’s film noir there is a sense of moral obligation supported by society. A 1970’s Philip Marlowe seems to be stubbornly clinging to that moral obligation (without knowing why) in spite of a society that has grown rampantly apathetic around him. Marlowe lives in an odd-looking apartment complex hoisted high over Los Angeles, his neighbors a handful of dippy young flower girls baking brownies with weed. His one friend is a glorified acquaintance whose behavior at the beginning of the film gets Marlowe into more trouble than he bargains for, with an insane author, his young, seemingly tortured wife, and an easily unhinged gambler who’s trying to collect a load of cash with which Marlowe’s friend has absconded to Mexico.
The best image from the film occurs near the end, of Marlowe walking alone in Mexico, on a dirt road lined with trees, Spanish guitars playing as if looming overhead. It reminded me that private eyes have always walked alone. Years ago there was a chance, a tease at some kind of romantic link to normalcy. Now, a sobering realization that Philip Marlowe must take all these roads alone to do his moral duty (which turns out to be ironic in this film). ★★★