bleary

For one thing, if the color in Wizard of Oz is the only reason you enjoy the movie, then you're missing more than just color. Now, I do think things like color and sound and (as sycasey mentioned) aspect ratio are fundamentally different than size in terms of what makes the film the film. (I'm on the fence about 3D. Avatar is a shitty movie that has great 3D effects if you can see in a theater equipped with 3D, but my gut is that the 3D is not a fundamental part of the film, and that the film can and should be judged on its 2D merits, or lack thereof.) I agree with you that changing the color of a film does fundamentally alter the film. Changing the size alters the experience, but I still don't believe it fundamentally alters the film. One last thing that I haven't mentioned yet is that the proportion of the screen to one's field of vision really doesn't change much across different platforms, unless you're a weirdo who sits in the front row of a movie theater or a weirdo who puts their phone five feet away to watch something. Yes, the screen in a movie theater is 10-15 times as big as my TV, but I also sit 10-15 times farther away. So it's really hard for me to envision a situation where the film is fundamentally altered by the size of the screen. So again, I still believe that if someone has a "meh" reaction to a movie, the movie's not going to change by seeing it in a different venue, only the experience. When I was in middle school, one of my friends was asked what his favorite song was, and he responded "All-Star" by Smash Mouth. We ridiculed him, because "All-Star" by Smash Mouth is pretty universally accepted to be a cheesy bad pop song. My friend responded, "Not when you see it live," as if to lord over us the fact that he was fortunate enough to see Smash Mouth live. And I don't doubt that Smash Mouth performed the shit out of "All-Star" that night, probably with added guitar solos and a crowd sing-along refrain that stretched it into a 10 minute ordeal and culminated with fireworks blowing off the stage and a stadium full of people cheering for an encore. That doesn't change the fact that "All-Star" is still a cheesy bad pop song, but I'm sure it was a great experience. And once again, I do not diminish the importance of experiences, and I encourage everyone to seek out those types of experiences if they have the means to do so. But the song is the song, and the film is the film, and the experience is the experience. We're judging the films here, not the experiences. If you haven't already, you should listen to the Canon episode on The Tingler, as Amy and her guest talked a bit about William Castle's theater gimmicks, such as theater seats rigged with buzzers and physical props flying over the audience, and whether those types of things should factor into how we judge the film itself. But I've shared my opinion and you've shared yours, and it seems that we're at an impasse, so this is the last post I'll make on the subject.

I was a little bit disappointed in this episode. It's never a good sign when the panel is displaying more recency bias than the audience. (Phil seemed to throw Amy under the bus a bit for not mentioning the dearth of horror films on the AFI list, and perhaps that explains Phil's pick, but Paul has no excuse.) I think Amy expected people to pick classics like The Exorcist or Texas Chainsaw Massacre or one of the Karloff/Chaney/Legosi Universal monster movies. Instead, she got three films that she has already covered on The Canon. (To be fair, she also already covered The Exorcist, at the Overlook festival a year ago. If you're keeping score, out of Scream, The Blair Witch Project, Get Out, and The Exorcist, all four were inducted into the Canon.) So as it turned out, the "vote" was pretty elementary: of COURSE Night of the Living Dead would deserve a place before the other three, simply because it has stood the test of time and is as brilliant today as it must have been 50 years ago. And pushing back against Paul's statement, I don't know if a list would need Get Out if it has Night of the Living Dead. Look, I like Get Out as much as the next guy. I would have voted for Get Out for a third Oscar if I could. Best horror film in my lifetime, hands down. But it's a film that draws heavily from the racial politics of Night of the Living Dead, which did it better and more subtly in my opinion. (Speaking of the influences of Get Out, I can't believe this episode on the best horror films doesn't even mention Rosemary's Baby. I know, I know, the Polanski of it all, but still, how is it not worth talking about?) And while they mentioned that AFI made a separate list, 100 Thrills, they don't go into just how shitty that list is, since it combines horror, thriller, action, and adventure films all into one hodgepodge list (Lawrence of Arabia is #23, Night of the Living Dead is #93). While it's tempting to come here and just say, "Why wasn't the film I care about mentioned?" (in my case, that film is The Shining, which I will forever call the best horror film of all time), the fact that so few got the benefit of an in-depth discussion is disappointing. The fact that 3 of the featured films were made in the last 25 years is a disservice to Alien and Carrie and The Thing and The Fly, not to mention all the movies from the silent era that showed how to build dramatic tension in the film genre, all the Universal monster movies, and even through the B-movie exploitation era of Castle and Corman. I'm not the biggest horror fan, but it's a historically important and significant genre, and I know Sam Zimmerman and Phil Nobile Jr are vastly knowledgable about that history, so to not put that on display here was a bit of a bummer. Also, obviously The Shining deserves to be on the list.

For better or worse, I do no shuffling of my list. Once I place something, it's set in stone! https://letterboxd.com/bleary/list/unspooled-afi-top-100-personal-rankings/

I haven't listened to the episode yet, but I had the urge to run some numbers on how the first 50 films were distributed, since 80-90% of them were chosen by the Zocchihedron. First, Zocchi was a little top heavy: 70% of the top 30 films on the AFI list have been covered, while just 41% of the bottom 70 films have been covered. (This might be the biggest reason that Paul and Amy wanted to move away from Zocchi, so that we can save some of the crème de la crème for the end.) Secondly, Zocchi had a slight recency bias: 65% of the films on the list made since 1980 have been covered, and 46% of the films made before 1980 have been covered. Furthermore, I did a full breakdown of how many films from each decade have been hit already out of how many are on the list. 1910s: 0 of 1 1920s: 1 of 3 1930s: 8 of 12 1940s: 4 of 11 1950s: 8 of 16 1960s: 7 of 17 1970s: 9 of 20 1980s: 5 of 8 1990s: 7 of 11 2000s: 1 of 1 Zocchi liked Spielberg a lot, but was more restrained with the other directors who have multiple films on the list. Spielberg: 4 of 5 Hitchcock: 2 of 4 Kubrick: 2 of 4 Wilder: 2 of 4 Capra: 2 of 3 Chaplin: 1 of 3 Coppola: 1 of 3 Huston: 2 of 3 Scorsese: 1 of 3 Just to verify that Zocchi nailed its expected value for some category: Of the 23 films that weren’t on the 1998 list, we've covered 12 of them. And finally, the category of movies on the AFI list that Robert Duvall appeared in throughout his 6 decades of film work: We've covered 2 of 6 (and the one featured most recently on the podcast wasn't a Zocchi pick).

Sure he could. Maybe not literally a telephone, but certainly on smaller screens. After all, he had been working in television since 1955. The Wizard of Oz aired on television in 1956. In 1958, if he didn't anticipate the possibility that his film would be seen on smaller screens, that's not just a lack of foresight, it's not paying attention. Now, I understand that some filmmakers might optimize their films for a certain viewing experience, but it's still my opinion that if a film doesn't work across other viewing experiences, I see that as a bug, not a feature.

I hate this line of discourse, because it approaches the classist, exclusionary rhetoric that the art world is too often guilty of and should seek to eliminate. If you're saying that seeing a film on a huge screen with a great sound system takes a great film and turns it into a great experience (which seems to be what Cronopio is saying), then I agree. If you're saying that seeing a film in less than ideal circumstances means you're doing it wrong (which seems to be what Harry Lime is saying), that comes off as privileged arrogance to me. Now, I love seeing films in theaters. When I lived in LA, I was an American Cinematheque member for two or three years and made sure to see three or four films a month at the Aero and Egyptian Theaters. (That's how I also saw a 70 mm print of 2001.) I was also fortunate enough to see Roma on a huge screen with a great sound system at the Virginia Film Festival, and was so blown away by the sound design that I recommended to my friends and family that they make an effort to see it in a good theater if they had the means. But the reality is that most people don't have the means. Most people don't live in areas with great movie theaters period, let alone ones that show the types of films we're talking about. And many more people who have access to that can't afford it. So saying that they are incapable of experiencing a film "correctly" only serves to discourage people from engaging with the art form. Because although I did see 2001 in 70 mm on an enormous screen in a historic theater, I saw it first on a 15" computer screen, and it blew my fucking mind. I've seen Lawrence of Arabia on a big screen as well as on a 26" TV, and I had the same feelings both times (that it's boring, racist, and overrated, but I'll save that for the Unspooled episode). As alluded to by AlmostAGhost and sycasey, if a film has no merit beyond spectacle, then it has very little merit. Moreover, I'd say that if a film that's borderline for inclusion on the list gets a large part of its value from an experience that most of the world can't share in, then I don't want it on the list. Art for everyone! Watch Titanic on your phone! Listen to Beethoven on mp3! Buy a $5 poster of "Starry Night"! There are ways of experiencing these things that I wouldn't necessarily go for, but ultimately, if you're forming a connection to a work or art by any means, you're not doing it wrong.

I'm sorry to break it to you, but if you can't hear the accent, it means you have the accent too. In all seriousness though, I was surprised by the prevalence of the southern accent when I moved to West Virginia (as far as urban vs. rural, there's really no such thing as urban West Virginia), although the farther north in the state you go, the more the accent sounds like a mix of the Pittsburgh/western PA accent and a southern accent, but the southernness definitely wins out (the "yinz" to "y'all" ratio is pretty minuscule). So there are plenty of variations of southern accents, not just in different states but in different regions of the same state, so I could buy the idea that the Georgia accents are milder in some way than those of other areas. As far as Gregory Peck's accent, I also found it believable that a well-educated, well-read, and well-spoken man in Alabama could sound like that, which is to say there is just the slightest hint of a southern accent. I'd love to hear what a linguist has to say about how what factors determine the gaining or losing of an accent though.

Yes, and Paul's other example is even worse, as J.K. Rowling had an enormous amount of creative control over the Harry Potter films, and she has written the screenplay for each Fantastic Beasts film. But Paul's point still stands, in that Harper Lee did not have much of anything to do with the film version of To Kill a Mockingbird, nor do most authors of adapted novels. And that's what makes this adaptation feel so anomalous, because it manages to capture the spirit of the novel so well while still making the changes necessary to translate it to a new medium. I feel like screenwriters who adapt major works of literature don't get enough credit, because turning a 280-300 page novel into a 120-130 page screenplay while still respecting the plot, themes, and character arcs can be a major task. (Case in point: Although I still enjoy One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, we talked a lot that episode about how fans of Kesey's novel, and Kesey himself, were majorly disappointed by choices made in the film. And don't get me started again on Tom Bombadil.) Horton Foote's screenplay, as well as Robert Mulligan's direction and the many solid performances, including a career-defining performance by Gregory Peck, ensure that this film is more than just "the movie version" of a beloved piece of literature. It's a wonderful film in its own right, and deserves a place on the AFI list.

I don't know if anyone cares (since I don't know if anyone is as obsessive about getting their movies for free as I am), but To Kill A Mockingbird is playing on TCM in the US this Sunday night, which means there's probably an 80% chance it will be available to stream for free through WatchTCM for a few days afterwards. Just an option in case your local library's copy is already checked out, and I thought I'd mention it since TCM doesn't show up on justwatch.com.

Oof, yeah, forgot about that. Point taken. It's interesting that I mostly glossed over that homophobia, but I was way less forgiving of the way Sandy was treated. I understand why Michael wouldn't want to tell her that he tried out for the same part as her as Dorothy, but if he's such a brilliant improvisational actor (as he proves time and time again as Dorothy), why can't he riff a better explanation for why his clothes are off other than that he wants to bang her? For one thing, why is stripping in your good friend's room while she's in the shower an acceptable way to handle romantic feelings? For another thing, if they're actually friends who have known each other for 6 years, is Sandy really going to fly off the handle if you tell her you were wondering if her clothes would fit you? It's neither logical nor funny that they present fucking her as the path of least resistance.

I'm not a fan of this movie, but I think you're pushing aside Paul's point in his comparison to Bosom Buddies: not that the plot points were vastly more refined, but that the laughs are directed in different places. While I'll concede that the baby scene is just a useless shitty scene, I'll pushback a bit on the Les plotline. I don't think it was at all played for a homophobic laugh. It's barely played for a laugh at all, as the overriding emotion is pity for Les for struggling to get over his wife only to misplace his affection with someone who can't return it. If there is any laugh at all, it's over the awkwardness of the situation formed by the love triangle, not the fact that it's two dudes. The only moment where I was fearful of some homophobia was when George Gaynes kissed Dorothy on set, but his reaction was not a grossed-out one, played for cheap laughs. He was indignant in a similar way as a woman would be in the same situation. And to Paul's larger point, the fact that Dorothy is a man in drag is never the punchline. I'm not saying this makes Tootsie a good movie, because I don't think it is, but I do think it elevates it over many (perhaps not all) drag comedies. As I alluded to in my Letterboxd review, the biggest compliment I can give it is that it is charming enough to make me overlook almost all the problematic aspects in the moment, but the treatment of the drag is never one of those problematic aspects in my opinion.

I was hoping that abandoning the die would mean we'd get more upcoming films in advance! At any rate, they announced on Twitter that they're recording an episode in front of an audience at Overlook Fest, so one would presume they'll do a horror film (or as horror a film as there are left)? If that's the case, my guess would be Silence of the Lambs, which would be awesome. It's not exactly horror, but with Psycho and Sixth Sense gone, there's not really any left on the list. Maybe Jaws?

This is why I'm still mostly okay with Annie Hall, but why I can never watch Manhattan again.

I might not chime in too much on this film since I'm probably going to be more down on it than everyone else, but I'm halfway through the podcast and Amy and Paul's interpretation of parts of it baffles me. For one thing, they're talking about how the movie is about greed, and about how Dobbs not taking all of McCormick's money doesn't seem to make sense. Well, the answer is that the film isn't really about greed. Amy and Paul mentioned how Howard very heavy-handedly spells out the plot of the movie early on in the saloon, but they've missed when Howard very heavy-handedly spells out the theme of the movie later on: honesty vs trustworthiness. Dobbs is an honest man, and Howard is not (or so he says). But Howard is a trustworthy man, and Dobbs is not. Dobbs only takes the money he's owed because of his honesty, and he never schemes to screw the others out of their money. He does what he does because he's incapable of trusting the others, and therefore unable to be trusted himself. But he remains honest, telling Curtin exactly what was going to happen if he fell asleep. Finally, the bandits are neither honest nor trustworthy, and the film posits that Dobbs is closer in character to them than to Howard. I would argue that greed is only manifested in the idea of not wanting to lose what one has worked for, which is not greed so much as a lack of charity, or a warped sense of Ayn Randian justice. (Okay, okay, maybe "Ayn Randian justice" does count as greed, but hopefully you can see my point.) Again, part of why I don't like the film is that this is so heavy-handed and overly simplistic, so I was shocked that Amy and Paul seemed to read it differently.

I agree that Amy and Paul seemed to have a strange view of this film. First, the claim that there's not enough to distinguish between Woodward and Bernstein is ludicrous. For starters, so much of their personalities are revealed with hair, makeup, and wardrobe, without a word of dialogue. Woodward is the perfectionist, with his hair immaculately in place, his shirt perfectly pressed, and his tie in a more perfect knot than I've ever been able to achieve in my life. Bernstein is the creative, whose extremely wrinkled dress shirt suggests he only wears one because he has to, and whose long hair suggests he feels some connection to 60s counter-culture even as he managed to work a desk job through it all. When they deal with people, either in person or on the phone, Woodward is a bit tense and wants to be precisely understood and to precisely understand the other party. Bernstein is loose and doesn't particularly care what the other party thinks of him as long as he gets what he wants. Woodward's manner of reasoning is much more deductive, where he'll reach a conclusion only if the facts lead there. Bernstein's reasoning is more inductive, where he's willing to make a leap of logic based on patterns and assume that as fact, which ends up fine in this situation because his instincts were always correct. And yeah, sure, Woodward is a bit WASPy, and Bernstein is clearly Jewish, but if that's the only thing you can point to in order to distinguish them, I don't understand what movie you were watching. I don't see how clearer they could make the differences between these guys without hitting us over the head with it (and some might argue that they do hit us over the head with it, like in the scene where Bernstein has his notes on napkins and tiny pieces of paper while Woodward disapprovingly chides him). This is an interesting question. I think at the time, and possible up to today, the fact that this actually happened makes it more interesting, and thus affects it in a positive way. I can see this changing over time for a couple of reasons, the first of which is a diminishing knowledge of the event. Now, as a product of a rural American public school, I know no history, and the only name from the administration mentioned in the film that I knew was Nixon himself. (This is the second time I've seen this film, and it's the second time I had to google whether Gordon Liddy is the same person as Scooter Libby. Answer: He's not.) But I still knew the broad strokes of the scandal: Nixon's men attempt to burgle the DNC, Nixon was aware of the cover-up, and he had to resign the presidency as a result. In 50 years, it's possible that viewers will know as much about the Watergate scandal as I do about the Teapot Dome scandal (which I assume had something to do with teapots...and domes). The term "Watergate" will no longer be synonymous with Nixon, but just with some type of scandal, or even more diluted, simply some type of controversy (I read that applications to journalism programs skyrocketed after this film, so I suppose it's those bozos we have to blame for idiotically using -gate as a suffix for everything). And the second reason I fear this might change over time is due to the declining civility in politics. I can imagine a 16-year-old who grew up indoctrinated in Trump country watching this film and thinking, "So Nixon sought to use any means necessary to bring down his political rivals, and then lied about it and covered it up. Isn't that what the President is supposed to do?" After all, Fox News would (and does) forgive Trump for far worse than what Nixon did. (Speaking of Fox News, I was figuratively yelling at the podcast when Amy and Paul were discussing 1976 films and neglected to mention the other film on the AFI list, Network.) Now, judging by the Letterboxd reviews I read, I'm probably not as high on this film as others on this board, although I have it in the top third of AFI films so far. I can see the argument that it's a vanilla in a freezer full of more novel flavors, but that's overlooking the fact that for a vanilla, the taste and texture are perfect, and who wouldn't want that perfect vanilla to have a place in their freezer? For those who say take it or leave it, I'd happily take it.

I think it took me longer to read this thread than it did to listen to the podcast. I hope we can get this level of conversation next week about All The President's Men, too! This is a film that's really making me question how I'm voting, because I've been able to just vote for "best" and not "most influential" and still feel pretty good about that. This film falls short of my "best" border, but I couldn't bring myself to vote no without reading what everyone had to say here. After reading the thread and checking the poll, maybe I'm not alone, since only 8 people have voted? So indulge me in the following breakdown: Q: Does the list need to have a Disney animated film? A: Disney animated films are among the few pieces of cinema that one can say legitimately changed the world. Amy talked last week about the global knowledge and enthusiasm for Chaplin. Double or triple that for Disney. So let's say yes. Q: If yes, then what is the best Disney animated film? A: This is the sticking point. Is it the one that tells the best story? The one with the best songs? The one with the most groundbreaking animation? Should we give up on picking the best one and instead just pick the "Disneyest" Disney movie, which would be a slightly problematic princess movie (that's kind of their brand, it's in their logo after all), like Snow White, Cinderella, or Sleeping Beauty? For the early films (first decade), my favorite is Bambi, though I could understand having concerns because it doesn't have the best songs (although "Drip Drip Drop Little April Showers" is my fucking jam). My pick for the most complete film made during Walt's lifetime is The Jungle Book, which is notable as the last film Walt worked on, has a well-told story with memorable characters, has a couple bangers on the soundtrack, and inspired millions of children to read Rudyard Kipling only to be disappointed to discover that King Louie isn't a character in the Kipling version. My personal childhood favorite Disney film was Robin Hood, which, as Amy and Paul pointed out, made generations of children have strange sexual feelings for foxes, and today is the go-to reference for all my socialist and communist meme-master friends. But besides the "Oo-De-Lally" theme song, none of the musical numbers are particularly memorable. My childhood wheelhouse was the stretch with Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, and The Lion King. I'd buy arguments for inclusion for any of those four, but they come so late that I don't know if they can be included in the world-changing-ness of Disney, since they already had a theme park in Tokyo before any of these films came out. So inclusion of these four would be on merit alone, and if we're going to just consider the films on merit rather than influence, it's worth returning to... Q: Does the list really need to have a Disney animated film? A: If none of the films are actually among the top 100 films ever made, then I guess I'm inclined to say no. Thus, I've convinced myself to vote no on Snow White. Wonderful animation (except for the pretty faces), but too much hand-washing and moralizing for me to find it enjoyable.

I also didn't understand Amy's line of thinking there. I'll add to the points others have made by saying that I don't think the final moment is about "falling in love" or "not falling in love." Was she in love with him when they were together before? I'm inclined to say yes, and that when she sees him at the end, she's not so much developing new feelings as she is rediscovering and recalibrating her old feelings. As Cam Bert says, maybe she does a little math and realizes that his generosity is exponentially more than she had thought, as his sacrifice was more than just a financial one. But as Cameron H. says, the important thing is that she accepts him for who he is. If she wasn't in love with him when she was blind, she's not going to be in love with him now, but she's still clearly happy to reconnect with this person who had such a huge impact on her life. And that happiness is regardless of his social status, but her appreciation of him is perhaps even augmented by it. That's how I read it, but ultimately it seems silly to break it down so much. However you read it, it's a beautiful scene.

Agreed 100% on all counts. City Lights is my favorite of his because the story holds together the best. Modern Times is my second favorite of his silents because he gives the other characters some development and room to shine. And I was disappointed by The Gold Rush because the story and the side-characters were severely lacking. It feels like three or four shorts that were just tacked together. (But we'll talk about that more when we cover those films.) I agree with Paul that City Lights has so much of the DNA of modern comedy, though I wonder if he'll say the same thing about The Gold Rush, which came first. So I'll add on that City Lights really has the DNA of the modern rom-com. The tramp and the blind girl have a meet-cute involving mistaken identity, he then courts her between adventures hanging with his more bro-ey best friend, learns of a problem that she has, and undergoes a ridiculous challenge to try to solve the problem. All these beats feel like rom-com tropes now, but they seem new when watching City Lights. It's no surprise why AFI named this their #1 romantic comedy of all time.

I don't understand where this dichotomy came from. By my count, this is at least the fourth musical they've covered so far, including Wizard of Oz and Swing Time. Why is Singin' In the Rain getting singled out? To me, West Side Story is a different beast than those, because it was based on a pre-existing stage show rather than being written directly for the screen. The reason I've seen most of these film adaptations of stage musicals is because my younger sister went through a phase where it was all she would watch. 25 years later, she has an MFA and works at a theatre company, and I asked her to poll her workplace to see what they thought were the best film adaptations of stage musicals. West Side Story was one of their top choices, as well as Chicago and maybe Carousel. That's the debate I think we should (and will) have when we get to Sound of Music. I think there's plenty of room on this list to include Singin' in the Rain AND Wizard of Oz AND West Side Story. But I think the debate between Sound of Music and West Side Story will be much more contentious.

I'm another vote for Duck Soup over A Night at the Opera, though I understand people who prefer the clearer story of the latter. It strikes me that there's a bit of a parallel to the Canon debate for Monty Python and the Holy Grail vs Life of Brian. Life of Brian certainly has a more coherent plot, but Holy Grail is so loaded with jokes that I can't help but be more drawn to Holy Grail. For the Marx brothers debate, I wonder if Horse Feathers would have been a nice compromise between Duck Soup and A Night at the Opera. I find it much funnier than Opera, but it has more of a clear story than Soup, as well as some standard Marxian things that Soup lacks like a Chico piano scene and a Harpo harp scene. Also, Horse Feathers has its own version of the state room scene, and "Everyone Says I Love You" is way catchier than "Alone".

Cameron mentioned it, but it's worth underlining: Old Man Ryan didn't just drag his family to Arlington Cemetary (a relatively normal spot for tourists visiting DC), but to the American Cemetary in Normandy. So the whole family flew to Paris, took a 2+ hour train to Bayeux, and then took a 30-minute cab ride to the cemetary, and no one in his family pressed him on why or who in particular he was interested in finding.

Agreed on all counts. I was pretty hard on Platoon, but I think Platoon mostly holds together better than this. (Although I might change my mind again when I rewatch Platoon and hear Charlie Sheen's stupid voiceover work again.) There's a couple things in the screenplay that I think are really bad. First, I think it's such a weird move that one theme of the movie is the characters talking about how stupid the plot of the movie is. You've convinced me, characters of the film: the idea that General George Marshall would alter his war strategy to appease a mother in Iowa IS a pretty dumb premise. Secondly, relatedly, after they go through the dog tags, and they're talking about how hard it might be to find Ryan, Miller is basically like, "Maybe if I just call his name, we'll find him, wouldn't that be stupid? LOL." And then Miller calls his name and immediately gets the information needed to find him. And it is stupid. Also, you get the sense that the writer learned the phrase FUBAR while writing this and was just fucking tickled by it. Then the Spielberg schmaltz doesn't help either. John Williams' score comes off as more manipulative than moving, and Old Man Ryan's breakdown has echoes of the worst scene in Schindler's List, when Schindler inexplicably breaks down about not having saved more people. The comic relief bits didn't really work for me on this rewatch either. For example, though the Nathan Fillion fake-Ryan scene is funny, it's 100% meaningless to the film and is only in there so that the film could be 10 minutes longer and a small amount funnier. At any rate, I agree with what seems to be the prevailing opinion so far, that this film shouldn't be on the list. Is there anyone out there who wants to argue that this is one of their top 5 favorite Spielberg films? I'm pretty sure it's not even in my top 10. No disrespect to Spielberg, who I believe has made more masterpieces than anyone on the list other maybe Kubrick, and has a deeper bench of near-masterpiece films than anyone on the list other than maybe Wilder and Hitchcock. But this film is not one of them.

I think we've essentially reached an impasse on this point, but I will say that the fact that he debates whether or not it's "right" doesn't have anything to do with whether or not it's consensual. It seems that we are disagreeing on the amount of agency that Benjamin has when he decides to follow through, but the issues of his agency and his internal debate about the morality of it are very separate issues. If someone has misgivings about committing a crime and they still do it, their misgivings don't grant them pardon. (False equivalence? Maybe, but hopefully you see my point.) You're absolutely right about this, because as I said before, I hadn't considered just how vile the first scene at her house is until you pointed it out. I really honed in on Benjamin's creepy pursuit of Elaine on this rewatch while completely ignoring the parallel with Mrs. Robinson's pursuit of Benjamin. So again, while I'll agree to disagree on Ben's level of agency in the consummation part of the relationship, I'm still happy that you and Cameron and Taylor brought it up, because it's a great point that deserved to have been discussed on the podcast.

While you can use justwatch.com to find almost all possible streaming places, it's worth mentioning that Treasure of the Sierra Madre can be streamed for free from TCM on Demand from now until March 3rd, and TCM doesn't show up on justwatch.com. Understandable if you'd just prefer to pay the $2 or $3 to rent it closer to the episode date though.

Haha, I also don't have much sympathy for people who fall for conmen! Again, I'm not denying that she can be seen as manipulative, I said so in my first post. Now, does he believe it to be fundamentally wrong? I really don't think so, I think this is a case where he's parroting what he believes society would prescribe him to say. At any rate, how fundamental a belief can it be if he allows himself to be goaded into it by a small challenge of his sexual prowess? The fact that he says "no" repeatedly, this is something that seems worse without the context. I completely agree that on its face, construed as "refusing to take 'no' for an answer", this seems gross. However, the way the first hotel room scene plays out, Mrs. Robinson isn't really refusing to take "no" for an answer. For one thing, he goes up alone and closes all the blinds, which shows that he intends to sleep with her. When she arrives, he initiates the kiss and participates in undressing her before changing his mind when he thinks about his parents. She asks why he's afraid of what they would think, and then asks if he's afraid of her. After seeing his responses, she asks if it's his first time, and reaches to start putting her clothes back on and leave, and then he stops her from dressing. I don't understand how she is predatory at all in this scene. She is willing to take his "no" for an answer, though she wants to know why. Then in the process of discussing why, he voluntarily changes his "no" to a "yes". I understand that if her brazen misconduct in the earlier scene in Elaine's bedroom colors your feelings about her behavior about all the rest of their interactions, but that's not at all how I feel about it. He called her because he did want her. He waited at the hotel for her because he wanted her. When she gets there, she asks if he's gotten a room. When he says no, she asks, "Do you want to?" (Perhaps that's a bit leading, but not exactly coercive.) He seems unsure and suggests just talking first, and she asks, "Do you want me to get it?" (This could be seen as manipulatively poking at his patriarchal sense of duty, but it can also be read as her offering because she thinks he's worried about dealing with the clerk.) When he says that he'll get it, she asks if he wants to get it now. He stammers for a second, and she suggests, "Why don't you get it now?" So sure, she prods him to action, but he doesn't say that he doesn't want to do any of it. I just don't see how she's villainous in any way here unless you're already painting her as a villain from the earlier scene.