DR STRANGELOVE (Stanley Kubrick, 1964)

        As relevant as it was in 1964 since the threat of nuclear war has not withered, Stanley Kubrick's first great film still is relatable, hilarious, terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Since I yet again am incredibly busy and poorly managed my time over the weekend, yet still want to keep the blog running at its rampant pace (even though, let's face it, no one fucking reads this, at least at the moment), I yet again have decided to republish an older essay.




        Throughout  Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 black comedy Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, Kubrick presents a bleak vision for the world’s demise: Nuclear weapons placed in the hands of bumbling, incompetent governments. However, Kubrick proposes that sex drives all decisions, including, or perhaps especially, matters concerning warfare, politics and public safety. Kubrick shows, through the framing of shots and the actions of the characters, that primitive male sexuality is to blame for much of war, and even directly compares war to the act of making love. Kubrick, through the use of complicated film language, creates a frighteningly possible scenario under the arms race, and critiques the world that allows such absurdities to occur.
Kubrick first introduces the concept of sex controlling the government with General Buck Turgidson, who is called into the war room while with his secretary and mistress. At first, the secretary alone occupies the frame, with Turgidson yelling back his responses. Then, Turgidson appears in a mirror behind his secretary. The shot displays the prominence of sex in politics, but also conveys how personal experiences and relationships often eclipse judgment and decisions. Later in film, Turgidson ignores the president discussing the grave situation at hand to field a phone call from his secretary, further proving the point suggested by Turgidson appearing far off in the mirrors. However, the most serious example of Turgidson putting his personal feelings and opinions first are shown when he must talk to the Soviet Ambassador. Turgidson is immediately distrustful, repeatedly mocks the ambassador politically and personally and refuses to civilly acknowledge him. Turgidson’s personal beliefs again take forefront, with rationality being forced in the background, at the film’s conclusion, when Turgidson describes how well pilots can jam radars. Turgidson excitedly explains that the pilots are trained to do so, failing to realize that if the pilots jam the radar and drop the bomb, the world is doomed. The general puts his arms out like airplane wings, and begins to demonstrate, before adamantly declaring that the bomber has a very good chance of getting through, before the reality of the situation hits him. Turgidson’s emotion based decisions is a sinister breed of ultra-patriotism, and relates back to Kubrick's image of a young, beautiful woman lounging in the foreground, with the half-naked general in the back, distorted from the reflection.
Similar to Turgidson, Jack D. Ripper, the renegade general, is motivated by similar thoughts of sexulaity and ultra-patriotism. Ripper is obsessed with the concept of “bodily fluids,” and his conspiracy theory that the Soviets were poisoning them with the fluoridation of water. Ripper says he first realized that his bodily fluids were tainted during sex, essentially meaning Ripper ordered a fleet of jets to bomb Russia, eventually destroying the world, because he experienced problems in bed. As Ripper first explains his theory, he is shot from an extreme low angle, with a cigar limply hanging from his lips, symbolizing his bedroom troubles. Ripper’s belief that the Russians poisoned America’s water supply in order to sap males of their sexual power is a display of “penis envy,”according to film critic Michael Hollister. Ripper’s belief that the jealous Russians want to deplete the sexual power of the American male is symbolic of the cold war itself, which Hollister explains is depicted in Dr. Strangelove as penis envy, where the two major world powers developed bigger and more powerful weapons, culminating in the doomsday machine. When the war room hears of the doomsday machine, the occupants are not disgusted and horrified, but instead ask why America has not developed a doomsday machine. Kubrick shows that much of politics consists of male-oriented envy and endless rounds of deadly competitions in order to show who is stronger, smarter, and ultimately, who has the biggest penis.
Ultimately, Dr. Strangelove in its entirety serves as an allegory for sex, according to film critic Tony Macklin. Beginning with the film’s opening titles, Kubrick’s film closely relates war to sex. As the opening titles roll, footage plays of two jets refueling in air. The imagery is obvious, as one jet hovers above the other and extends a long, stiff pole into to gas tank of the other. According to writer and filmmaker Chris Sheridan, the guns and planes in the film are direct reference to sex, further aiding Hollister’s theory of penile envy causing the film’s war and destruction. With the vessel being the penis, its ammunition acts as the ejaculate, further adding to Kubrick’s sex-focused interpretation of the arms race. As the film progresses, the penises and ejaculates become larger and larger, beginning with guns, then progressing to tanks, before turning to bombs. Near the film’s end, Major Kong straddles the hydrogen bomb between his legs and rides the weapon down to Russia, which is, as Sheridan explains “the largest penis and ejaculation imaginable.” The film end directly mirrors the foreplay of the beginning. As doomsday machine is triggered, atomic bombs detonate all over the world, signaling the ultimate orgasm. Throughout the course of the film, Kubrick mirrors war with the act of sex, beginning with foreplay and initial intercourse, ejaculation, and ending the film with the earth-shattering, universal orgasm.
Stanley Kubrick’s film serves as a critique of societies that support the notion of Mutually Assured Destruction, the theory that no nation will drop an atomic bomb, since an attack will always mean a counter-strike. Kubrick paints sex-obsessed characters, who are primarily motivated and controlled by sex, suggesting the primitive nature of man. However, when viewed as a whole, the entire film mirrors the physical act of making love, further demonstrating Kubrick’s view that war is ruthless, primitive, and, in some sense, natural. Kubrick recognized war as an essential aspect of human nature, albeit an ugly and undesirable one. Kubrick took solemn, grim topics, and even adapted Peter George’s Red Alert, a serious novel, into a peice of satire which shows the primitive, absurd nature of war.

IL POSTO (Ermanno Olmi, 1961)- Coffee

       Il Posto, a criminally overlooked film by criminally overlooked Italian director Ermanno Olmi is in a lot of ways the anti-Bicycle Thieves (a film I hope to discuss soon). While Di Sicca's acclaimed masterpiece shows the dehumanizing effects of being in deep poverty, Il Posto shows the dehumanization that goes with a life-long, steady job. Truthfully, there is much more I could say about this film, and hope to compare it directly to The Bicycle Thief (personally, my preferred title. It's amazing I could write just about the film's title!) and many other neorealist films soon, as I see it as a reaction against the themes of the movement.
       However, this is actually an older essay of mine, which deconstructs a pivotal scene in the film. Hopefully, I will look at it on a wider scale (although this is still written with the rest of the film in mind, and is not a reading of a detached scene) and link it more closely to other films and related styles.






        Ermanno Olmi’s 1961 film Il Posto deals with the themes of corporate dehumanization and loss of personal identity. The film follows Domenico, a young Italian man (who bears more than a passing resemblance to influential Czech writer Franz Kafka, which given the film's message and content, is just too perfect to be chalked up as an amazing coincidence), as he seeks to get a job in a large corporation. Near the middle of the film, Domenico is called in to speak with the corporate supervisor about his job. The corporation promised him a job, but he does not know of his position.  Domenico's meeting with his supervisor is the first communication he has within the company. The meeting marks Domenico's official initiation into the company, and though the scene’s makeup and cinematography, Olmi reveals Domenico's future employment in the company, as well as the rest of his life.

       As Domenico enters the office, he stands in front of the supervisors desk. He is not officially a part of the company, and is unsure what to do in the office. He looms over the supervisor, who is sitting down at his desk. However, as soon as Domenico sits down, he is a part of the company, and placed near the bottom of the pyramid, well below the supervisor. Domenico’s chair is much lower than the supervisor’s, showing great power the supervisor has over Domenico. Domenico’s chair is also at a peculiar angle. He has such little power in the corporation, that he is not even allowed to directly face the supervisor. However, the problem is not unique to Domenico. Behind the protagonist is a line of chairs pressed up against the wall. However, the wall, as well as the chairs, are at a forty-five degree angle from the desk. The  corporation’s inequality applies not only to young adults just beginning their career like Domenico, but to very common worker in the corporation. Domenico  will probably never be supervisor due to the corporations structural inequality.

       Although Olmi makes clear through the film’s visuals that Domenico will most likely never rise to become a supervisor, Domenico seems to be unaware of that fact during this scene in the film. During the meeting, another employee enters the room near the back of the frame, and walks to the supervisor’s desk. His long walk is reminiscent of Domenico’s just minutes prior, when the protagonist walked the long, nondescript hallway alone to the supervisor’s office. The similar images further point to the fact that one’s position within the company never changes. The man hands the supervisor his coffee and walks away, leaving the supervisor alone in the foreground. The focus shifts to Domenico, sitting in the frame’s middle, staring at the supervisor drinking his coffee. Earlier in the film, Domenico goes into a coffee shop, where he is visibly uncomfortable and confused in the bustling environment, seemingly having no idea what to do while drinking his coffee. Now, Domenico watches the supervisor comfortably drink his coffee at a large desk in his own massive office. Domenico stares at the man drink his coffee for several seconds. Domenico aspires to be in his own office one day, comfortably drinking coffee delivered to him instead of ordering a cup in the shop and having to wait in line then move through the crowded shop to a seat. However, the supervisor and his coffee, representing Domenico’s dream, are out of focus for the office, symbolizing they are out of reach for Domenico.

       Soon after the supervisor finishes his coffee, a woman enters and gives the supervisor a written excuse for being late to work. The supervisor briefly chastises her, telling her her children are old enough to take care of herself. Domenico, who is uninvolved in the conversation, is captured in  a closeup. Domenico’s mouth is open, apparently deeply interested in the woman’s situation, and is turning his head in order to look at both subjects. Then, the supervisor returns the excuse to the woman, and his hand juts out of the foreground. The out of focus hand and paper block Domenico’s face. Momentarily, Domenico’s face is the peice of paper, representing his grim status within the corporation: Another faceless worker, without an identity. The fact that the paper is an excuse symbolizes Domenico’s sole purpose in the corporation: work. His identity is not only unimportant, but is also in a position to hurt the company, as the woman just did by being late to tend to her children. For the company, it would be best if Domenico had no personality at all.

       Throughout a seemingly simple scene in Il Posto where Domenico is told he must temporarily work in another position until a job opens up in his field, Olmi reveals complex information about Domenico’s future through images. Domenico needs a job urgently, so his fate is working at the corporation, where he will have a decent paying job for life. However, Domenico must face inequality within the corporation, seemingly little possibility for a promotion, and an eventual loss of identity. These ideas greatly impact the message of Il Posto,  turning a coming-of-age story into a grim prediction of a likely hopeless future.

A FACE IN THE CROWD (Elia Kazan, 1957)

       Although I usually don't like to use the word "Underrated" regarding film, as it's incredibly overused as it is, Elia Kazan's 1957 film A Face in the Crowd certainly fits the criteria (or actually, "under viewed" might be a better fit. Although it receives acclaim now, Kazan's originally critically reviled film isn't seen as the classic it truly is.
       The late Andy Griffith hypnotizes the audience as Lonesome Rhodes, a crazed, larger than life radio personality who takes the world by storm, only to use his huge, loyal audience for his own benefit and exploits them. Rhodes doesn't even exploit them for his own ideological gains- he seems too stupid and monetarily interested to have his own opinions.

      Rather than a typical look at the film, I've decided to republish an older essay on Kazan's film, exploring the film's treatment of celebrity excess:

       Elia Kazan’s 1957 film A Face in the Crowd stars Andy Griffith stars as Lonesome Rhodes, a drifter who a radio station hires to sing songs and spout “Grass root wisdom.” From his humble beginnings, Rhodes becomes a phenomenon with a rabid fan base and a national television program. Kazan uses his characters to show the realities of the media culture. Lonesome Rhodes represents the powerful, narcissistic, nearly unstoppable media, while his love interests represent the general public’s reaction to the media. A Face in the Crowd serves as a portrait of the media, the characters it creates and the general public’s reaction.

       After being released from jail, Rhodes slowly begins to realize his impressive amount of power: first as an entertainer, then as a voice of the people and finally as a political figure. Rhodes’s power was always imminent on screen through his presence in the frame. When the audience is introduced to Rhodes, he is hungover, sleeping in the corner of the county jail. He is completely absent for the several minutes of the film, but after the sheriff wakes him, he immediately becomes the film’s focus. 

       Throughout the majority of the film, Rhodes occupies the middle of the frame, representing his massive personality and his unstoppable nature. If Rhodes is not in the center of the frame in the shot’s beginning, it seems he moves within the frame to become the literal center of attention. However, at the film’s end, Rhodes embarrasses himself on the air, mocking the audience, and forever loses his seemingly unstoppable power, as well as Marcia Jefferies, the woman he loves. The film’s final shot is of the New York City landscape: Taxis, skyscrapers, and a large neon Coca-Cola sign. The audience can hear Rhodes cry into the night, but he is nowhere to be seen: His celebrity has faded.

       Rhodes’s relationship with the public is represented by two women he loves: Betty Lou Fleckum and Marcia Jefferies. Fleckum represents the mass public. Fleckum, who becomes Rhodes’s wife at age seventeen, is at first completely infatuated by him, even admitting to have a picture of Rhodes taped to her ceiling. However, Fleckum quickly looses interest and cheats on her husband after several months. Rhodes’s true love is Jefferies, who represents the more educated public. Jefferies, a radio producer, discovers Rhodes in jail, and planned to wed him, but Rhodes became hypnotized by the energetic passion of Fleckum. 

       Despite his betrayal, and her first hand knowledge of the artificiality and deep-rooted corruption of Lonesome Rhodes, Jefferies still loves him, and was unable to leave him until the film’s end. Jefferies directly causes Rhodes’s downfall, as she is responsible for leaking his off-air comments, where he calls the audience idiots. Jefferies felt that her and Rhodes could only be separate if she ruined his career. Like the public, Jefferies overlooked Rhodes’s unappealing behavior and focused on his status and power. Once his fame was diminished, Jefferies could leave. Ultimately, the power of media and celebrities transfixes the public and holds them captive until the glossy lights of fame are dimmed or removed.