Movies You Ought to See I: Miller's Crossing
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This entry was posted at
03:09 GMT on 11 February 2003
I realize I haven't posted much about movies per se, so I'm going to correct that and get on my soapbox at the same time.
This past week, I finally sat down and watched High Fidelity, starring and co-written by John Cusack. I had been urged to do so repeatedly by several friends, which was why I avoided it for a bit -- I don't like building my expectations too high. But when one told me that it was about me, except that music was substituted for movies, I finally broke down. And loved it.
I watched it with two friends, one who'd seen it before, and one who had not. There's a scene where Cusack's character is asked to list his Top 5 Favorite Records of All Time. He lists seven, then calls the girl up later that night to give her a completely different list of eleven. When we had all stopped laughing, my two friends made clear that that was me, played to perfection by Cusack.
I can't argue, except that I don't do Top 5 or Top 10 lists. I've always had a Top Movie, and then a long list of Great Movies in alphabetical order (or, at least, no particular order). The top movie is now two, actually, Casablanca (longtime favorite) and Singin' In The Rain.
I have a sort of informal hierarchy of greatness, but it's not an absolute, title-by-title list.
So now, I begin a series of entries to encourage you to see some great, or just really good, films which you most likely have not seen.
Miller's Crossing is a perfect film. There is not one wasted frame, sound, musical cue, or word of dialogue in the entire running time.
On first or second viewing, you may disagree with that statement. There are interludes which don't seem to advance the plot or illuminate the main characters, but each one has a purpose, and the movie would be flawed if it were missing even one of them.
This is a film that requires your full focus and concentration, and probably a second viewing for a full understanding of the nuances of the story. The plot is dense, tightly packed, and artfully executed, and you should not let that dissuade you from viewing it.
The story owes an enormous amount to two Dashiell Hammett (no relation) books, his first novel Red Harvest and, even more so, his penultimate (and best) novel The Glass Key. Certain lines of dialogue make me wonder why his estate didn't sue for plagiarism, actually. But Miller's Crossing stands on its own regardless.
(For a testosterone drenched Hammett-inspired evening, perhaps you would consider a Yojimbo - Miller's Crossing double feature?)
The nameless city (Poisonville, perhaps?) is run by Irish mobster Leo, played to perfection by Albert Finney. His right hand man (administrative assistant with a gun) is Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne, in his best performance ever).
In the opening scene, an Italian mobster, Johnny Caspar (essayed delightfully by Jon Polito) gives a straight-faced lecture on the ethics of throwing fights, leading up to his asking permission to kill the bookie who's selling tips on the selfsame fights. Leo refuses, and, as you soon find out, not for a reason, but for a woman -- the bookie's sister, Verna, whom he's in love with.
Tom calls him on it, telling him it was a bad play. Leo sticks with his decision, and things go downhill quick. The film follows Tom on his journey away from Leo, toward Caspar, away from Caspar until, at the end, he has returned things to normal, but cannot himself remain within the status quo.
If this sounds like a relatively simple plot, it's not. If it sounds complicated, it's worse. There are double-, triple-, and quadruple-crosses; a character who is central to the plot but only appears in one scene (well, two, but only one alive); narrative expositions that are complete fiction even within the framework of the story; and oh, so much more.
The thematic material is rich. Tom is struggling with his dogged sense of loyalty, his own ethical code (he's not an anti-hero, even if he is a mob enforcer, nor is he precisely a hero), his sense of justice, and the pragmatism of the situations he finds himself in.
And, as I said, everything serves the story perfectly. Barry Sonnenfeld's cinematography is soaked in a rich color palette, his use of camera movement accents the story and themes at every moment. Carter Burwell's score is brilliant, with an unforgettable yet subtle main theme, and seems woven throughout the film -- but he only put together about 30 minutes' worth of music, so there is more silence and diagetic (in-scene) sound design than it seems. The set design... if you don't want to live within the spaces this movie presents, you have no taste at all.
Remember those interludes? There are four that spring immediately to mind.
First, there is the title sequence. It seems only to be a title sequence at first. Actually, it sets up two different scenes in the film, a discussion of a dream that Tom had once (it is the dream, actually, or part of it), and the second trip to Miller's Crossing itself. More than that, I will not say.
Then there is a brief, humorous scene in which you, the audience, find out why a dead man's toupee disappears. None of the characters in the film ever finds out, even though it seems to be a story point later on. This detail, which has little to do with the main characters except in its consequences, enriches and extends the tone, the mood of the film. I hate movies that create worlds with no existence outside of the film. Miller's Crossing, because of this kind of detail, is not one of those.
Another scene without any of the main characters involves a police raid on a speakeasy. (Keep an eye out for the "snickering gunman" in this scene: it's Sam Raimi, director of last summer's Spider-Man.) This bit, and others like it, illustrates the consequences of actions in the main plot, specifically the brutality of Johnny Caspar's methods.
Finally, the Tommy Gun sequence. Once you've seen it, I shouldn't need to argue for its inclusion. I'll simply say that, apart from its necessity for revealing Leo's character and implying much about his past, it is one of the most beautifully choreographed sequences of its kind anywhere.
It's a crime, but Miller's Crossing remains unavailable on DVD, so you will have to settle for renting the tape.
A further crime is that it wasn't nominated for any Academy Awards at all. At the very least, it deserved a nod for script, cinematography (which surpasses even the late Conrad Hall's valedictory work on Road to Perdition), and Finney's bravura performance. The fact that it wasn't was the initial cause of my disenchantment with the Oscars. The Shawshank Redemption's loss of every single award it was nominated for to the overrated mess that was Forrest Gump was my final straw. I have not truly cared about the awards since.
Once you've watched it, don't be surprised if you find yourself quoting it frequently -- it's one of the most quotable films since Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
Also, be warned. Miller's Crossing earned its R rating. There is no nudity, but violence is plentiful, shocking, and somewhat graphic.