Summer Moviethon 2016: Dr. Strangelove

July 2: #18, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

"Gentlemen, you can't fight in here, this is the war room!"

There's a lot to love about Dr. Strangelove, which quickly sets itself up with one tasty Cold War-era hook: a team of bombers have been told by the madman General Ripper to let loose with an atomic bomb attack that will decimate Russia and start a nuclear war.

From then, the movie essentially takes place in three locations: the Washington, D.C. Pentagon war room, Ripper's military base, and in one of the bombers complying with Ripper's “Wing Attack Plan R” orders. The use of the three settings is great, as are the acting performances by Sterling Hayden's Ripper, George C. Scott's General Buck Turgidson, and many others.

What makes this film such an effective dark comedy is that it explores how the fail-safes and procedures that were put in place to help leaders feel secure during a paranoid time actually seal their doom. Ripper is the only one who knows the code to address the fleet, and he won't let anyone know what it is so they can change the orders. No one can get on base to get Ripper to talk to the president on the phone, because Ripper has instructed his men to shoot anyone who approaches, even the sneaky Russians who he says may be pretending to be US soldiers.

Ripper wants the US to feel forced into going all-in with the attack since it can't be stopped anyway, eviscerating Russia in the process. The president telephones his Russian counterpart in a very funny scene only to find out that Russia has its own fail-safe that will cause trouble – a doomsday protocol that can't be disabled and will essentially nuke the world if they are attacked.

And there's your Kubrickian critique: it's the folly of our leaders and the bureaucracy and protocol that only serve to make a farce of even the most serious situations. It's everywhere in this film, such as in the war room, where there are dozens of people who never even speak. Why are they all there? For the same reason that everyone has thick binders and the bombers have pages after pages of possible commands with fancy codes: because the government's answer to problems is always to add more. More nukes, more officials in the war room, more protocol, more bombers.

The satire works on an analytical level and even on a funny-ha ha level, such as when the airborne soldiers are given their survival kits, complete with tiny combination Russian translation book and Bibles. Names such as General Ripper, “Bat” Guano, Major Kong, and President Merkin Muffley may be a little on the nose, but they add a little amusement factor, as well.

General Ripper, shown here being very concerned about your...fluids.

When the film comes to its conclusion, we find that not only have the officials and politicians not learned their lessons, but just the opposite as they quickly plot a way to make the best of a terrible situation by pursuing their own selfish interests only to immediately begin the paranoid standoff with Russia once again. Thanks to Scott's outstanding comic performance especially, Dr. Strangelove succeeds both as a Cold War cautionary tale and a very funny dark comedy.

Grade: A

Summer Moviethon 2016: Full Metal Jacket

June 29: #17, Full Metal Jacket

Kubrick explores the messy ambiguity of the Vietnam War.

Spoiler alert: I've seen this movie a dozen times and I love it. I know there's a sizable camp of folks out there who say that the basic training part of the film is better than the rest and use that criticism to knock the whole package, but I disagree. Even if it's the best part of the movie, the entire thing is still great.

But yes, the basic training part is fantastic. It's really the only war film that really takes advantage of that important part of the soldier's experience and puts it at center stage. In this case, Kubrick turns up the heat by including the kind of psychological torture that even former drill instructor R. Lee Ermey (who's amazing in this, as you already know) says wouldn't have flown in the actual Marines.

According to star Matthew Modine, Kubrick even turned the actors on each other to get a little more authenticity in their performances. Modine admitted in an interview that he and Vincent D'Onofrio (superb as Private Pyle) began to dislike each other during the shooting, despite being real life friends beforehand. But to reduce this film to just the basic training, which yeah, includes a lot of great lines from Ermey and a classic descent into madness by D'Onofrio, does it a disservice as a lot of the meat comes in the second act.

Don't feel bad, Pyle. I probably couldn't do this shit, either.

It's when we reach Vietnam that we fully explore the prevailing theme of the movie, which Joker kindly spoon-feeds us later on when he explains that his peace symbol pin and helmet inscription of “Born to Kill” are intended to represent “the duality of man.” Everywhere you look in this film, you see evidence of that duality.

Look at the outward, rather blunt racism voiced by such characters as Animal Mother, despite the obvious love he has for his black brothers in arms. How about when Joker flips in an instant from discussing the meltdown of Pyle to wanting to bang Cowboy's sister, without so much as a change of tone?

Full Metal Jacket really explores the implications of sending very young men overseas to fight our wars. These young men who have barely lived their own lives are trained to be killers. We're meant to see early on that Pyle is not fit for duty, but was Pyle really that much more fucked up than the murderous gunner in the helicopter who brags about killing civilian women and children or Animal Mother?

Unlike in a lot of his other films, Kubrick isn't afraid to get a little more visceral with his shots this time around. The low-angle handheld cameras that follow the platoon as they advance forward late in the movie or the point-of-view shots when Ermey screams at a soldier or the soldiers eulogize their dead brothers are evidence of how important it was to Kubrick that audiences feel like they're in the platoon with these guys.

"Do you realize how many simple carbs are in this donut, Private Pyle? Do you know how much fat is in this donut? I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU EAT BELOW MAINTENANCE AND ADOPT A HEALTHY LIFESTYLE!"

Just as with A Clockwork Orange or The Shining, this movie demands a lot from its star and without an excellent performance from Matthew Modine, it just wouldn't have worked. Fortunately, Modine and the large supporting cast were all up to the task. Nobody seems like they're “playing soldier” and they wear the enormity of the film's situations on their faces well.

It's always been a cute thing to call Full Metal Jacket two movies, but in actuality it's more like three. There's basic training, the deployment, and the final sequence, where everything comes to fruition. The film simply wouldn't be as great as it is if any of those parts were missing, no matter how entertaining and rewatchable the opening act is.

Grade: A

Summer Moviethon 2016: 2001: A Space Odyssey

June 28: #16, 2001: A Space Odyssey

What the HAL happened up there?

This was my second viewing of 2001 and I enjoyed it about as much as the first time, though I wasn't particularly excited to watch a half hour of monkey business at the start and another half hour of a space-themed acid trip at the end of the film again.

Yes, I know what the monkey part is supposed to mean. Everything Stanley Kubrick does is intentional (which is usually a good thing) and you can dive waaaay into the intro and ending if you'd like. Those parts still detract from the film upon subsequent viewings and are far longer than they need to be in order to make their point. And even Kubrick's much-loved match cut from the bone to the satellite, while cool, is way too on the nose to be compelling symbolism.

If there's anything I don't love about 2001, it's just that: I feel like about half of the film is pretty much Kubrick jerking off. He finally had free reign to express himself and he decided to make a masturbatory ode to his own genius.

That's the bad stuff. However, sandwiched in between the beginning and extended ending is a truly compelling science fiction story featuring remarkable special effects that still hold up almost 50 years later. For that reason, this is a movie that must be seen.

"Why yes, I can burn off your hemorrhoids, though it's a most uncommon request."

Within the middle part of the film, the methodical pace didn't bother me. Even the black screen during the introduction is used to great effect, as the original score is used to build tension right away. Kubrick provides a ton of memorable shots in this film. The shot of doomed astronaut Frank floating away from the safety of the pod when the AI computer HAL 9000 turns on him is beautiful, for instance.

Kubrick's version of the future is purposefully sterile, from the visuals inside the ships to the PR speak being used to cover up a disaster in the first part of the story set in the future. Kubrick alternates long, static shots in space with more dynamic close-ups, while doing the same with static shots and tracking shots inside the ships themselves. Of course, Kubrick's version of the future also looks like it was co-designed by Austin Powers, but that's what happens when you try to predict what things will look like in 2001 when you're still living in the mid-1960s.

The acting is capably done, although the cast is a bit hamstrung by what surely was Kubrick's insistence on a dry, emotionless reading of the script. Still, when it comes time for Keir Dullea to duel wits with naughty computer HAL 9000 later in the film, Dullea plays his part well and mirrors our surprise when HAL famously opts not to open the bay doors for him. When HAL coldly ends the conversation, it's a wonderful “holy shit” moment.

They should have stuck with the Andre 3000 instead.

2001: A Space Odyssey is pretty much mandatory viewing. However, while it's a film that everyone should see once, it's also one that many people won't bother seeing twice. At the very least, they might skip some of the beginning and end. If you do, don't worry. I won't judge.

Grade: B+

Summer Moviethon 2016: A Clockwork Orange

June 27: #15, A Clockwork Orange

Kubrick makes audiences squirm with emphasis on opposites, unblinking violence

I didn't watch A Clockwork Orange for a long time because I didn't think I'd like it. I knew about two scenes: the infamous “Singin' in the Rain” home invasion and the scene where Malcolm McDowell has his eyelids pinned open for a very peculiar brand of therapy. Neither one made me think I'd like the film.

However, it's on Netflix and I've been wanting to see some more of Stanley Kubrick's movies, so I gave it a whirl. I'm glad I did. This film is wildly influential and you can see the impression it made on everything from Quentin Tarantino's work to Heath Ledger's Joker in The Dark Knight or even the unfortunate subgenre of torture porn.

After seeing A Clockwork Orange, I don't think it fits that last label, though. Sure, we see lead character Alex prepare to rape a woman while singing a happy tune and forcing her husband to watch, but the scene isn't shot like the repugnant rape scenes in modern films like the remake of Last House on the Left.

In fact, I don't think that any of the scenes where terrible crimes are committed are filmed in a way that glamorizes the acts. Kubrick often makes use of a static camera placed far from the action, providing the viewer with a startlingly detached, sterile, unemotional perspective. He doesn't invite you to enjoy or even be disgusted what you see, like torture porn directors do. He merely provides you a voyeur's view of what's taking place and seems to be asking you, “What do you think?” Kubrick wants you to feel complicit in what you see.

The idea that at least some of the violence that takes place in the film may titillate the audience is not avoided, of course. It's kind of the point. Whether you chuckle at Alex killing a woman with a giant penis sculpture or feel satisfied when the tables are turned on Alex later, a close viewing makes you think that if he could, Kubrick would be next to you, smirking when you finally find a terrible scene that fails to offend you.

Alex has his eyelids pinned as he viddys a slooshy horrorshow, or something.

The whole film uses opposites to make its many points. Alex is all about bringing disorder to order. The house he barges in during the afore-mentioned scene is sparkling clean, with nothing but a few chairs that are more pieces of art than furniture to be found. With his singing, violence, and loud behavior, he takes joy in shattering the perfect world of the occupants.

Other opposites include Kubrick's mismatching use of music and content, especially noted in Alex's love of Beethoven. Not everything is supposed to represent an opposite, of course. Kubrick intentionally parallels the violence found in the Bible while questioning the emphasis on vengeance found in not only the Old Testament but also the criminal justice system. He even manages to get a few shots in on politicians near the end of the film, when Alex is reduced to a political football that can be used to score some PR points.

Malcolm McDowell is absolutely perfect as Alex. He has the likability that you stereotypically associate with charismatic sociopaths and when he charms some of the leaders at the prison he winds up in, you can believe it because he has the ability to play an earnest individual who you still feel that you can't trust.

I refuse to believe that McDowell and American Horror Story's Evan Peters aren't somehow related.

The film isn't perfect, but many of its flaws are a real matter of preference and are more of a product of Kubrick staying faithful to the book than anything. I wasn't a fan of the silly slang terms in the film, with all the “slooshy tolchoking” and “viddying” or whatever, but it wasn't a deal breaker.

As a movie that stays relevant to this day and a predecessor to everything from villains who “just want to watch the world burn” to real-life internet trolls who do things “for the lulz,” this film deserves its classic status. Like many of Kubrick's movies, A Clockwork Orange works on the surface level and provides plenty of opportunities for deeper analysis, too.

Grade: A