This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: Raising Arizona (1987)

Even if you haven’t heard of Joel and Ethan Coen, you’ve sure as hell heard of some of their films. The brothers have jointly written, directed, and produced such modern classics as Fargo, The Big Lebowski, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, No Country for Old Men, and True Grit. Their work bounces around in time, space, and genre—the Coens never make the same movie twice—and they’ve been renowned for it over the past three decades, with 13 Academy Award nominations and four wins.

Before all those accolades, the Coen brothers made their debut with 1984′s Blood Simple, a neo-noir thriller. Not wanting to make a reputation as one-trick ponies, they avowed to make to their next project as different from their first as possible. Out of that desire, the one-of-a-kind screwball comedy Raising Arizona was born.

Our protagonist is Herbert I. “Hi” McDonnough, played by the polarizing Nicolas Cage, who can make or break a movie depending on whether or not he fits his character. Hi is the type of lovable nitwit that often fills Coen fare: an erudite idiot reminiscent of Lebowski’s Dude, if he’d been born in an Arizona trailer park and had a penchant (though not necessarily a skill) for robbing 24-hour convenience stores. Luckily, Cage slips into Hi’s skin masterfully, right down to the wacky hairdo and funny accent (“Temp-ee, Arizona”). The performance remains one of his best to date, although ultimately Adaptation takes the cake.

Opposite Cage is Holly Hunter as the tight-lipped policewoman, Edwina or “Ed,” who’s always taking the recidivist Hi’s mugshot photos. After one particularly fateful arrest, Hi finds Ed in tears and learns that her fiance has left her. He proposes after his latest release from prison, and the two get married and move into a tiny trailer in the Arizona desert, which Hi lovingly calls a “suburban starter home.” One of the film’s many sources of comedy is the contrast between the upbeat world of Hi’s narration and that of the more objective reality we see on screen.

Hi does his best to “stand up and fly straight” after settling into married life, getting a job in a machine shop, but finds it difficult “with that darned Reagan in the White House.” Nonetheless, as time passes, the couple want to take the logical next step and start a family. Unfortunately, “biology is against them,” as they receive the unhappy news that Edwina is “barren,” and they’re denied the chance to adopt because of Hi’s criminal record.

But they come up with a plan when they hear that local celebrity and unfinished furniture magnate Nathan Arizona (Trey Wilson) and his wife have been blessed with not one but five infant sons—the “Arizona Quints.” Hi and Ed (mostly Ed) decide that the Arizonas have more than they can handle, and that it would be no great sin to take just one of them (Nathan Jr.) for their own. As you might imagine, things go comically south from there.

More and more, the circumstances of life seem to call Hi back to his criminal ways: he and Ed receive a visit from his prison buddies Gale and Evelle Snoats (John Goodman and William Forsythe), who “released themselves of their own recognizance” because they “felt the institution no longer had anything to offer them,” and Hi loses his job after assaulting his supervisor, Gale (Sam McMurray), who proposes a swapping of wives. Meanwhile, a bounty hunter named Leonard Smalls, the “Lone Biker of the Apocalypse,” rides right out of Hi’s nightmares and into his waking life in search of Nathan Jr. The film climaxes with what Bullz-Eye’s Jason Zingale  calls the “best chase sequence in movie history.”

Between the gun-toting store clerks, the cop, the dogs and the screaming shoppers – all scored to yodeling bluegrass music – with Cage running through it all as if he’s on a morning jog, the chase is 16 different flavors of crazy. Holly Hunter’s subsequent rant after she picks up Cage (how she knew where to find Cage, though, is a mystery) is even funnier, as she reminds him that “everything’s chayyyyyynged!” now that they have a child.

Though at times uneven and oddly paced, you’d be hard pressed to find a movie more originally, oddly funny than Raising Arizona. And if you’re any kind of movie buff, the film is a great look back at the Coen brothers’ burgeoning style. Certified fresh with a 90 percent rating on the Tomatometer, people will call Raising Arizona all sorts of things, but I don’t think anyone would argue it’s not pure entertainment.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Bottle Rocket” (1996)

Before Wes Anderson was a household name (at least among movie buffs), before receiving Oscar nominations for The Royal Tenenbaums, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Moonrise Kingdom, before The Darjeeling Limited, Rushmore, and The Life Aquatic, yes, before all of that, he and Owen Wilson co-wrote the screenplay for Bottle Rocket. It was based on a short film of the same name they’d made in 1992 and released in 1994. Bottle Rocket was Anderson’s directorial debut and marked the first appearances of Luke and Owen Wilson, as well as their lesser known older brother, Andrew. Leslie Mann, now famous for her many roles in husband Judd Apatow’s films, even had a small part, though it was eventually left on the cutting room floor.

Anderson’s first film is an interesting look back at the development of filmmaker’s now signature style: the methodical cinematography, with its bright coloring and compulsive need to center-frame the actors, along with humor so dry you’d better pack a canteen. Though a commercial failure, Bottle Rocket served as a launching pad for the careers of all those names above, so easily recognized here in 2013. But the film is worth a watch on its own merits, even for those who aren’t intrigued by the idea of taking a look at the early work of a couple of future A-listers. Thanks to Anderson’s burgeoning style and its innocent, humorous characters, Bottle Rocket has been certified fresh and holds an 80 percent rating on the TomatoMeter. If that’s not enough to sway you, Martin Scorsese named it his seventh favorite movie of the 1990′s. Yes, that Martin Scorsese.

Alright, enough blabber, onto the film itself. Bottle Rocket is a caper comedy about a couple of twenty-something Texans (just like Anderson and the Wilsons were when they made the film) determined to become master thieves. It begins when Dignan (Owen Wilson) aids his best friend Anthony (Luke Wilson) in “escaping” from a mental hospital. In truth, Anthony checked himself in voluntarily and it happens to be the last day of his stay, but he goes along with the charade to please his friend. Dignan, who is both endlessly optimistic and endlessly naive, then shares his “75-year plan” for a glamorous life of crime. Hopefully you’re beginning to see the style of humor the film employs.

Dignan’s scheme includes a few small-time heists before meeting with a Mr. Henry (played by James Caan, perhaps best known for his role as Sonny Corleone in The Godfather), whose landscaping business Dignan worked for (and was fired from). Dignan seems to believe Mr. Henry is some kind of criminal mastermind, though whether or not that’s the case remains in question for much of the film, and the truth of the matter is best left unspoiled. Anthony goes along with the idea for much the same reasons he allowed Dignan to “rescue” him from the mental hospital—he doesn’t want to disappoint his friend, who’s oh so excited, and hey, he’s got nothing better to do.

Along the way, the two recruit Bob Mapplethorp (Robert Musgrave) as a getaway driver, because he’s the only person they know who owns a car. Although in fact, the car belongs to Bob’s wealthy parents. The eccentric trio endures a great deal of mockery from Bob’s brother, John Mapplethorp, aka Futureman (Andrew Wilson), whenever he crosses their path.

After they rob a local bookstore (in hilarious fashion), the guys hide out in a cheap motel near the Mexican border. There begins another major plotline, as Anthony falls in love with a Paraguayan maid named Inez, though she speaks little English and he no Spanish. That alone is a fantastic indication of Anthony’s character, and it makes it all the funnier that he’s the voice of reason in the film’s merry little band of thieves.

Bottle Rocket is great entertainment whether you’ve heard of Wes Anderson or not. Dignan, Anthony, and Bob are lovable misfits, and their interactions make for a great deal of subtle, witty humor. If you’re familiar with Anderson’s work and aren’t a fan then this one may not be for you. However, I recommend you check it out nonetheless. He’s the type of director that can take some time and understanding to appreciate. If you’ve put that time in and still don’t like his work, well, there’s no accounting for taste. I mean, anyone who disagrees with Marty freakin’ Scorsese on the subject of film is probably missing the point. Anyway, watch the damn thing and see for yourself.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Bernie” (2011)

When you live in a small town, everybody knows everyone else. They know what you’re like, who your parents were, what you do for a living, whether or not you go to church, and probably a few too many “dirty little secrets” that they use to gossip behind your back. For Bernie Tiede of Carthage, Texas, small town life led to some speculation over whether his effeminate personality indicated he was gay. But it also meant that everybody knew him as the kindest, warmest, friendliest and most generous man they knew. Nobody was more well liked than Bernie.

Then he killed Marjorie Nugent. And despite the logic of that fact, while Bernie Tiede’s life changed, public opinion didn’t.

That’s the stranger than fiction basis of Richard Linklater’s 2011 film “Bernie,” which stars Jack Black in the title role. He’s a 39-year-old assistant funeral director loved by one and all. Kind-hearted soul that he was, he always delivered a gift and checked up on those the deceased left behind. Nobody made him do it, he wasn’t getting paid, he just cared. That habit leads to his befriending 81-year-old millionaire widow Marjorie Nugent, who’s portrayed by Academy Award winner Shirely MacLaine.

Contrary to Bernie, nobody much cares for Mrs. Nugent. Even her own family hates her—she hasn’t spoken to two of her grandchildren in years after they sued her in an effort to get some of her husband’s money. She’s mean, nasty, and entirely lonely, but unwilling to bridge the gap of emotional connection. Until Bernie knocks on her door. Soon they’re eating meals and going on expensive vacations together. Eventually, Tiede even became the sole benefactor of Nugent’s will. She became controlling and jealous. Tiede was on call 24 hours a day, more a servant than a friend, but unable to walk away due to his inherent goodness (not to mention all the money being thrown his way). It was a clash of personalities, and Nugent’s hate beat out Tiede’s love. In a moment of weakness, Tiede snapped and shot Nugent in the back four times.

On paper, it was an open and shut case for Danny Buck Davidson (Matthew McConaughey), the county’s district attorney. A young gay man had gotten wrapped up in the luxurious lifestyle that friendship offered a rich older woman. He was already getting a handsome amount of money, but stood to be the sole benefactor if she was out of the picture. So he killed her, end of story.

Only it wasn’t. Despite the facts, despite Tiede’s confession, the people of Carthage refused to believe their Bernie could have done such an awful thing. Those who would admit it would indicate the old bat had it coming to her. Believing he’d be unable to get a fair decision out a jury made up of people from Carthage, Davidson asked for a change of venue for the trial—a common request of defense lawyers, but a rare occurrence for a prosecutor.

In “Bernie,” Linklater takes the “small town folks who won’t believe the facts” idea and milks it for every bit of comedic and dramatic juice it’s worth. And it works, the film has a 92 percent rating on the Tomatometer. Linklater’s co-writer was Skip Hollandsworth, whose 1998 Texas Monthly article “Midnight in the Garden of East Texas” was the basis for the film.

“Bernie” uses a mockumentary style to give it that small town gossip feel. It often cuts to interviews with fictional East Texas residents (portrayed by real East Texas residents), who weigh in on its events. The question of whether they were genuine accounts was on my mind until McConaughey appeared on screen.

The film offers one of Black’s best performances to date. Perhaps the only role that could could compete came in 2003′s “School of Rock,” another Linklater project that allowed Black to mix in his quirk and musical talents. The actor makes you believe Bernie Tiede is someone who really could (and did) exist. He’s got funny characteristics, finds subtle humor in effeminate movement and body language, but never delves into the realm of the cartoonish. You understand why Bernie might’ve picked up that rifle, you might even approve (as the people of Carthage seem to).

Enjoyable and easy to watch, “Bernie” is a black comedy that mixes just the right amount of both ingredients. It seems to mock the eccentric Southern personalities it contains in a fashion that is loving rather than cruel while implying greater questions about the dangers of faith trumping fact.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Michael Collins” (1996)

“Michael Collins” is a 1996 historical biopic starring Liam Neeson as the titular Irish revolutionary. Written and directed by Academy Award winner Neil Jordan, the film won the Golden Lion, the highest prize at the Venice Film Festival, and became the highest-grossing picture of all-time in Ireland upon its release. The high profile cast includes Alan Rickman (Éamon de Valera), Stephen Rea (Ned Broy), Brendan Gleeson (Liam Tobin), and Julia Roberts (Kitty Kiernan).

For those who don’t know, Michael Collins was an Irish revolutionary, military, and political leader who made the liberation of his homeland from its British colonial overlords his life’s work. In the now 90 years since his death (and well before it), his actions made him a folk hero, “The Big Fellah,” the single most important figure in the fight for Irish freedom. As such, “Michael Collins” begins with the following opening crawl:

At the turn of the century Britain was the foremost world power and the British Empire stretched over two-thirds of the globe.

Despite the extent of its power, its most troublesome colony had always been the one closest to it, Ireland.

For seven hundred years Britain’s rule over Ireland had been resisted by attempts at rebellion and revolution, all of which ended in failure.

Then, in 1916, a rebellion began, to be followed by a guerilla war which would change the nature of that rule forever.

The mastermind behind that war was Michael Collins.

His life and death defined the period in its triumph, terror and tragedy.

This is his story.

Although the film depicts historical events, it is first and foremost a character piece. As such, I don’t consider it a spoiler to discuss the real-life developments of nearly a hundred years ago (aka the film’s “plot”). Even still, I won’t get into too much of the nitty gritty.

“Michael Collins” depicts its main character as the heroic leader of the songs. All at once he’s a brilliant military strategist and leader of men, but unafraid of getting his hands dirty. He’s the brilliant public speaker, the ideological inventor of guerrilla warfare, and ultimately the pragmatic diplomat who signed the Anglo-Irish Treaty when he believed any further violence would be for naught but its own sake.

The IRA had been backed into a corner when the British unexpectedly called for a cease fire and offers were made to begin peace negotiations. Collins signed the aforementioned treaty, calling it “the best we can hope for at this moment in time.” The truce established an Irish Free State only nominally attached to the British government, but fell short of the independent republic the IRA had dreamed of and preserved the separation of Northern Ireland. Collins felt that the best method moving forward was further negotiations from the “inside,” with the hope that they could someday achieve those goals without further bloodshed.

Rickman’s de Valera is pitted against Collins to various degrees throughout the film, but never more so than in the treaty’s wake. His refusal to accept its terms led (indirectly) to the Irish Civil War, Collins’ assassination, and even the violence that continues to shake Northern Ireland to this day.

In 1966, de Valera, then the Irish president, was quoted as saying, “It is my considered opinion that in the fullness of time history will record the greatness of Michael Collins, and it will be recorded at my expense.” I don’t think even he could have predicted just how right he would be, and “Michael Collins” is a shining example. The film seems to both run with the idea by, as Roger Ebert put it, portraying Dev as “a weak, mannered, sniveling prima donna whose grandstanding led to decades of unnecessary bloodshed” and concede it as an inherent flaw by including the quote in the picture’s end. In the film, Dev is the Judas to Collins’ Christ, characterizing the former’s refusal to support the treaty as indirectly leading to the assassination of the latter, and perhaps even hinting that Dev knew the attempt on Collins’ life was coming.

But as Neil Jordan has pointed out, it wold be impossible to, in a mere two hours, portray an entirely accurate account of events to an audience that (for the most part) would know nothing of the minutiae of Irish history. That said, “Michael Collins” gets a lot more right than it gets wrong. At the end of the day, the fact remains that it is a movie first and a biography second. For the movie to be both commercially and artistically successful, it required a villain outside of the faceless evil of the British Empire. Thus the role of tangible, human antagonist fell into de Valera’s lap. And let’s face it, if there wasn’t a hint of truth in the idea, Dev would never have made that quote.

Sometimes the (near) truth is stranger or more exciting than fiction, and there are few better examples than the life of Michael Collins. Whether or not you’re a history buff, “Michael Collins” is satisfying film that combines biography, war, and political intrigue without getting too intense with any of them (although the romantic subplot can seem out of place). And hey, for once you can tell people you learned something from a film rife with explosions.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: Timecrimes” (2007)

“Timecrimes” is one of those movies where it seems like giving away anything at all is giving away too much. I’ve included the trailer below out of habit, but if you’d rather not have the film’s twist(s) spoiled, you should avoid it as well as the synopses on Netflix and elsewhere. Even most reviews seem to reveal too much. However, this isn’t an M. Night Shyamalan movie. That is to say spoiling the twist won’t spoil the whole thing. It’s revealed fairly early on and it’s not the only thing the film has going for it.

Here’s what I will say: “Timecrimes” is a Spanish thriller based around time travel. Contrary to many films built on the same idea, “Timecrimes” is extremely low-budget. There is no CGI, one location, and only four speaking roles (one of which is held by writer/director Nacho Vigalondo). Perhaps the film’s most important contrast to its many peers is that the time travel elements do not become convoluted or confusing. “Timecrimes” makes up for its inherent bare bones-ness by maintaining a constant state of tension and forward movement—much like Hector, the main character, the audience has no time to stop and think.

Let’s talk about Hector (Karra Elejalde) then. He’s a middle-aged man in the midst of renovating his home in the Spanish countryside, where he lives with his wife, Clara (Candela Fernández). Hector’s spending his Saturday relaxing in the backyard, looking out into the woods beyond his property through binoculars. There he spies an attractive young woman (Bárbara Goenaga) undressing. His wife leaves to go shopping, and Hector decides to be lead investigator in case of the naked lady. When he finds her, she appears dead, and he’s stabbed by her apparent killer, a mysterious man whose face is wrapped in a pink bandage. Hector runs, ending up in the lab of a scientist played by Vigalondo. Soon after, the scientist convinces Hector to hide from his persuer in a large mechanical device. It’s night time when he gets in, but when he steps out just a few moments later, the sun is shining. Hector has traveled back in time by an hour and a half. And that’s when things really start to get interesting.

The film isn’t exactly a character study, so neither Hector or the rest of the parts are incredibly deep. But in the case of “Timecrimes,” that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It makes Hector into something of an everyman, which allows the audience to wonder just what they would do if placed in his situation: getting sent back in time after being chased through the woods by a pink-bandaged bandit.

The film is getting an English-language remake, which is ironically humorous for reasons that will become clear once you’ve watched it (if you don’t understand what I mean by then, check out Wesley Morris of The Boston Globe’s review). The project was originally in the hands of David Cronenberg, but has since been shifted from United Artists to Dreamworks with Steve Zaillian (“Schindler’s List,” “Gangs of New York,” “Moneyball”) attached to write, produce, and perhaps even direct.

Like I said, there’s not much more I can say about “Timecrimes” without feeling that I’ve given away too much. I promise it’s an exciting, well thought out thriller. If you don’t believe me, take its 87 percent rating on the Tomatometer as proof. The film’s virtues more than make up for its flaws and it’s a better way to spend 90 minutes on a Saturday night than looking at the woods in your backyard through binoculars. Enjoy!

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Glengarry Glen Ross” (1992)

“Glengarry Glen Ross” is David Mamet’s film adaptation of his 1984 Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning play of the same name. The star-studded drama depicts two desperate days in the lives of four Chicago real estate salesmen after Blake, a corporate trainer sent by the downtown office (played by Alec Baldwin in one of the best single-scene performances of all-time), announces that in a week all but the best two salesmen will be fired. The film is named after two of the properties the salesmen attempt to unload, Glengarry Highlands and Glen Ross Farms.

Chief among the salesmen is office hotshot Ricky Roma (Al Pacino), who knows every trick in the book and then some, always ready with another up his sleeve. Roma is joined by the less fortuitous Dave Moss (Ed Harris) and George Aaronow (Alan Arkin), who are rightfully intimidated by Blake’s speech. Last is Shelley “The Machine” Levene (Jack Lemmon), an old-timer whose career was in jeopardy even before Blake showed up. The once-successful Levene’s glory days have long since passed, nothing but the distant memories of a man working support his daughter, who’s hospitalized with an undisclosed condition. Levene will be familiar even to those who haven’t seen the film, as the character was the inspiration for Ol’ Gil from “The Simpsons.”

Early on, Blake shows up to give his “motivational” speech, which includes a likewise familiar line: “A, B, C. A-Always, B-Be, C-Closing. Always be closing.” It seems there’s to be an office contest over the next week. First prize is a Cadillac El Dorado, second prize is a  set of steak knives, and third prize? Well, “third prize is you’re fired.” Central to the salesmen’s efforts are “leads,” the names and numbers of potential clients distributed by coldly reserved office manager John Williamson (Kevin Spacey). Most of the leads are old and useless, the contact information of people the salesmen have already spoken with and who tend to lack the funds or the desire to actually invest in land. In spite of this, Williamson holds the more promising leads under lock and key, in reserve for the contest’s winners. The situation is a clear Catch-22, as the salesmen need the good leads to have any hope of keeping their jobs, but access to them will only be granted to those that do so by placing in the top two.

Because it was adapted from a stage production, “Glengarry” is minimalist in nature. Only nine actors have speaking roles, it seems every other line of the tight dialogue is highly memorable, while all the action takes place in a small handful of locations. The film is divided nearly exactly into two 50-minute acts. The first takes place on the rain-soaked evening of Blake’s speech and is propelled in large part by Levene’s bumbling attempts to get his hands on a worthwhile lead and make sales. It also showcases Moss and Aaronow’s strategizing in reaction to the announcement of the contest. Pacino’s character receives considerably less screen time in the first half than the other three salesmen, which serves to contrast them with Roma’s cool confidence as he neglects to show up to hear Blake speak and makes a sale with relative ease. On the other hand, the second act is largely Pacino’s turf as the salesmen and their manager show up to work the following day to discover the prime leads have been stolen.

The cast of “Glengarry Glen Ross” has jokingly referred to the film as “Death of a Fuckin’ Salesman.” It’s a profanity-soaked, modern version of the Arthur Miller play the nickname makes reference to, and in each the salesman represents the reality and failure of the American Dream. It’s a fine line between deception and salesmanship, and the film gives us both. It’s the subtle contrast of Levene’s grandstanding—barking orders to an invisible secretary or pretending he’s got a plane to catch—with the defeated look in his eyes. He seems to be perpetually a moment from tearing up and two from a total breakdown.

A frighteningly accurate portrayal of working in sales, “Glengarry” has been certified fresh and currently sits at a 96 percent on the Tomatometer. Pacino’s work in the film garnered him an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, but Baldwin’s speech alone makes “Glengarry Glen Ross” a more than worthwhile way to spend 100 minutes on a Saturday evening.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “The Baader Meinhof Complex” (2008)

Rebels? Radicals? Criminals? Heroes? Martyrs? Murderers? Victims? Villains? Icons? 

“The Baader Meinhof Complex” is a 2008 film detailing the early history of a West German far-left extremist group who named themselves the Red Army Faction. To the public however, the group was generally known as the “Baader Meinhof Gang.” The nickname was a media invention centered around two of the group’s foremost members: ringleader Andreas Baader and former journalist Ulrike Meinhof. Both the film and the 1985 non-fiction book by Stefan Aust on which it is based altered the label to include the word “Complex” because they focus not just on the gang itself but on the tangled labyrinth that was the collective German psyche just 20 years after the death of Adolf Hitler—a volatile environment that was as instrumental in the eventual creation of the group as its members themselves.

The Red Army Faction was founded in 1970 (although the film begins three years earlier) by the radicalized “children of the Nazi generation who had grown up in the ruin their parents created.” The group’s early goals were strikingly similar to those of the American counter-cultural (or “hippie”) movement, on paper anyway. They spoke out against Western imperialism and its chief contemporary example, the war in Vietnam. But what makes the RAF so intriguing is that while the American peace movement sputtered out with a whimper, the gang refused to die, with a bang or otherwise. Its members do not give up when its goals cannot be met through peaceful protest—they saw that as a foregone conclusion. Rather, they are always willing to fight, always willing to take it to the next level. And that’s where the intrigue comes from. First it’s destroying property, all the while ensuring that no one comes to harm. But before you (or the more cautious characters) know it, it’s shootouts with police, killing innocent civilians, even hijacking a plane, and all in the name of justice and equality. As such, “The Baader Meinhof Complex” is a look at the most slippery of slopes, how one thing leads to another, how the goals you’re fighting for and your principles regarding what you’re willing to do to accomplish them can be crystal clear one day and so terribly confused the next.

Up there in bold is a quote from the film’s trailer (see it below). It asks which, if any of those words, correctly describes the Red Army Faction. Of course, all that asking is very much rhetorical. Anyone who’s heard of the Baader-Meinhof Gang is likely to have a different opinion of them. Whether they were rebels or criminals, heroes or villains and so on, is all in the eye of the beholder.

“The Baader Meinhof Complex” has been certified fresh and currently sits at an 85 percent on the Tomatometer. Furthermore, it was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the 81st Academy Awards. Although anyone who’s not a big fan of German cinema is unlikely to see any familiar faces (the only actor I knew was Bruno Ganz, having seen him play Adolf Hitler in “Downfall”), the film is still highly enjoyable. The real world tends to be a tad more boring than the movies, so often historical filmmakers must sacrifice reality for drama or vice-versa. “The Baader Meinhof Complex” is the rare film that refuses to forfeit either, blending historical accuracy with intrinsic excitement value and characters so well-developed you’re almost able to understand their thinking by the end. Almost. Despite its two and a half hour running time, “Baader Meinhof” is incredibly fast paced, I suppose it has to be when attempting to squeeze ten years of intimate detail into a feature film. It might be hard to keep up at times, and you will have to read subtitles, but it’s well worth it at the end, when you’ve earned the right to make the decision about which (if any) of those bold words correctly describes the RAF.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Once Upon a Time in the West” (1968)

It’s 2012, so it wouldn’t be all that surprising to discover a majority of young people have not heard of Italian film director, producer, and screenwriter Sergio Leone. After all, the man died 23 years ago in 1989. However, you’d likely be hard pressed to find someone in that demographic who hasn’t seen, or at the very least heard of the man’s work.

Leone, one of the most prominent figures of the Spaghetti Western sub-genre, released his first film, “The Last Days of Pompeii,” in 1959 and his last, “Once Upon a Time in America,” in 1984. But it was during the 1960s that a number of his most popular films, those that remain relevant to this day, were released. Firstly, there’s the Dollars Trilogy, a series of three films which Leone wrote and directed which followed the exploits of the “Man with No Name,” played by Clint Eastwood. There’s a name you’ve heard, Clint Eastwood, and I bet you’ve heard of the trilogy’s final installment as well, 1966′s “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.”

After the Dollars Trilogy was completed, Leone decided he was done with Westerns. He’d said all he wanted to within the confines of the genre. It was only after Paramount informed Leone that he’d have access to Henry Fonda—his favorite actor, one he’d wanted to work with his entire career—that he decided to return. Leone and his fellow writers spent nearly a year watching and discussing some of the best American Westerns to date before constructing a story made up almost entirely of references to those classics.

Problem was, around the same time, Henry Fonda had decided he was done with Westerns too, and turned down Leone’s first offer to star in “Once Upon a Time in the West.” It wasn’t until Leone flew to New York to meet with Fonda in person that the actor accepted. To convince him, Leone said, “Picture this: the camera shows a gunman from the waist down pulling his gun and shooting a running child. The camera tilts up to the gunman’s face and…it’s Henry Fonda.” See, Fonda had spent most of his career playing good guys. But in “Once Upon a Time in the West,” he was cast against type, playing not just a bad guy, but one of the most sadistic, monstrous villains ever to grace the silver screen.

Now that all that background’s out of the way, I suppose we should talk about the film itself. Contrary to the fast-paced, upbeat nature of previous Westerns, the film includes numerous long, drawn-out shots and scenes with little dialogue and less action significant to the over-arching plot. These scenes of quiet are often interrupted by sudden outbreaks of violence. It’s the quiet, the routine, and then bam: sound and fury. The film is less a study of violence and more about the subtleties that precede it.

The film begins with the arrival of a quiet man known only as Harmonica, played by Charles Bronson (the Charles Bronson, the one from whom that other guy took his “fighting name”). “Instead of talking, [Harmonica] plays. And when he better play, he talks.” For reasons unknown to the viewer, Harmonica is on a mission of vengeance against the villainous Frank (Fonda), who works as something of an enforcer for railroad tycoon Morton (Gabriele Ferzetti). As mentioned, the first time we see Frank, he’s massacring an innocent family, the McBains, for reasons equally unknown. Frank tries to pin the blame for the killings on a local outlaw named Cheyenne (Jason Robards). When Cheyenne hears this, he and Harmonica become uncertain allies in a war against Frank. They’re joined by Jill (Claudia Cardinale), a young woman who’d travelled out west from New Orleans to marry the recently deceased McBain.

Part of what makes the film special is its twisting of the genre’s many tropes. For example, Cheyenne is one of the film’s more honorable and likable characters. The fact that he robs people for a living is irrelevant. But the biggest and most interesting of these aversions is that it’s never assured that Harmonica will be capable of killing Frank and getting his vengeance. He’s wounded in the film’s first scene, and as a result, he’s clearly far from invincible. This is not the smooth ride of the overly-lovable sheriff defeating the bank robber. Whether or not the “good guys” can win is never a foregone conclusion. It wouldn’t be in the real world, so it’s not in “Once Upon a Time” either. Furthermore, horrible as Frank may be, it’s hard not to respect him. The first parallel that springs to mind is Darth Vader. Sure he’s the bad guy, but he’s also a badass.

“Once Upon a Time in the West” is long, with a running time of 165 minutes, and the drawn-out style will no doubt be foreign to contemporary viewers. But there’s a reason the film gets all the accolades it receives. It sits at a 98 percent on the Tomatometer, and is generally acknowledged as one of the best Westerns ever made. In 2009, it was placed in the National Film Registry in the Library of Congress for being “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant. Consistently quotable, with a number of intriguing conflicts and sub-conflicts, taking in “Once Upon a Time in the West,” one of the great masterpieces of the 20th century, is a more than worthwhile way to spend your Saturday evening.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Drugstore Cowboy” (1989)

“Drugstore Cowboy” became director Gus Van Sant’s breakthrough film following its release in 1989. The film was critically acclaimed, ending up on both Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert’s lists of the top ten films of the year. Today, its rating stands at 100 percent on the Tomatometer. Of course, aggregators like Rotten Tomatoes can be inaccurate for older films, but in this instance the site takes 27 reviews into account. Van Sant went on to receive Academy Award nominations for Best Director for his work on “Good Will Hunting” (1997) and “Milk” (2008).

But back to “Drugstore Cowboy.” The film stars Matt Dillon as Bob Hughes, the leader of a gang of drug addicts travelling the Pacific Northwest in the early 1970s and doing just about anything to get a fix (generally of pharmaceutical opiates, for reasons that will become clear in a moment). Bob’s crew is made up of his wife, Dianne, who’s played by Kelly Lynch, his partner Rick (James Le Gros), and Rick’s new girlfriend, Nadine, who’s played by a 19 year-old Heather Graham. The cast also includes James Remar as Gentry, a police officer whose relationship with Bob is somewhat reminiscent of Ricky and Julian’s interactions with Park Supervisor Jim Lahey in “Trailer Park Boys” (which you know about if you’ve been keeping up with my “Hidden Netflix Gems“). And I can’t not mention that one of the film’s best scenes comes from a cameo by prominent author (and junkie) William S. Burroughs as Tom, a man who’s “shot a million dollars in his arm.” Oh, and who just so happens to be a priest.

The film is fantastic overall, but what really makes it special is its realistic portrayal of addicts and addiction. In no way does “Drugstore Cowboy” glorify drug use, but neither is it repentant in its frank depiction. “This is what it is, all of it,” the film seems to say, asking neither for your sympathy nor your approval, only your attention. “Drugstore Cowboy” delves into the minds and bodies of its addicted characters, examining what it feels like to need a fix as well as some of the underlying issues that might cause one to turn to drugs and the lifestyle that their use can (but does not necessarily) lead to in the first place. “Most people don’t know how they’re gonna feel from one moment to the next,” Bob explains, “but a dope fiend has a pretty good idea. All you gotta do is look at the labels on the little bottles.”

One thing that might not seem so realistic is the way Bob and his gang generally go about getting their fix: robbing pharmacies, hospitals, and hospital pharmacies. Then again, we’re looking at it from a 21st century perspective, with all the technological advancement that entails, whereas in the 70s it seems all you needed was a distraction and someone who could pick a lock. Another tally in the realism column comes from the fact that the film is based on a semi-autobiographical novel of the same name by James Fogle. I know what you’re thinking, there’s a reason it’s a semi-autobiographical novel, and even if it was non-fiction, it’d be easy for the author of such a book to lie, especially considering said book wasn’t even published until a year after the film was released. But then there’s this. It seems Fogle’s still at it. He was arrested in 2010 for attempting to, well, steal money and narcotics from a pharmacy in suburban Seattle. Yes, two thousand ten. It was a brilliant marketing campaign for a book/movie more than two decades old. Yeah, that or the man just needed a fix.

The crew keeps on keeping on, running around robbing and getting high for a while. But when tragedy strikes (that’s all I’ll say to avoid spoilers, watch the damn movie), Bob decides he wants to go straight. The time he spends trying to get clean and avoiding the traps of his former lifestyle make up some of the film’s best scenes.

Interspersed with all this darkness and addiction, “Drugstore Cowboy” does have more than its fair share of humorous moments. There’s Bob’s continuous torment of Officer Gentry (there’s a reason it reminded me of the comedic genius that is “Trailer Park Boys”), and of course the times Bob gets to discussing hexes. He’s a very superstitious man, this Bob Hughes. When Rick mentions dogs, he gets a scolding, and we (along with the character) learn from Bob that such a thing brings about a 30-day curse. When Rick tries to justify his statement by explaining that Bob had never told him not to mention dogs, Bob responds, “The reason nobody mentioned dogs, Rick, is that to mention the dog would have been a hex in itself.” And don’t even get him started on leaving hats on beds. That’s 15 years bad luck, maybe even death.

The film showcases brilliant direction from Van Sant, as well as a then 25 year-old Dillon in one of the best performances of his long career. When you find out what the tragedy is or why mentioning dogs is so awful, well, those scene really demonstrate both the actor and the film’s emotional range. As the movie runs its course you’ll find yourself on the edge of your seat, laughing, and perhaps even empathizing with one of those “low-down lousy junkies” for a moment, even if you’ve never touched a beer or a joint, let alone a needle, in your life. “Drugstore Cowboy” brings to the table a gritty realism that is uncommon not just in films about drug use but in films, period. I can think of few better ways to spend 101 minutes on a Saturday evening than enjoying this breakthrough masterpiece.

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman. 

This week’s Hidden Netflix Gem: “Oldboy” (2003)

Here in the States, it’s entirely likely you haven’t seen or even heard about the 2003  film “Oldboy.” If that’s the case, you’ve been missing out on what’s generally considered one of the greatest films of all time. Directed by Park Chan-wook, one of South Korea’s most popular and critically acclaimed filmmakers, “Oldboy” won the Grand Prix at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival, it’s been certified fresh with an 81 percent rating on the Tomatometer, and with its 8.4 rating on IMDb, the film sits at 87th on the site’s Top 250 movies of all-time. As a result, Spike Lee is set to direct an American remake and subsequently ruin an awesome film which deserves all the acclaim that’s been heaped upon it.

When “Oldboy” begins, its main character, Oh Dae-su (played by Choi Min-sik), is more than a bit too drunk on his daughter’s birthday. Dae-su is kidnapped and locked in a hotel room for 15 years, never knowing the identity nor the motives of his captors. Fed nothing but fried dumplings, a television is his only contact with the outside world. It is through his TV screen that Dae-su learns that his wife has been murdered and he has been made to look like the culprit. As he slowly loses grip on his sanity, Dae-su spends his days honing his fighting skills, waiting to be released and obsessing over the vengeance he plans to take on those who imprisoned him. Then, one day, completely without explanation, Dae-su is released. A beggar hands him a cell phone and a wallet filled with money, the phone rings, and the voice on the other end challenges him to uncover the reasons behind his imprisonment. Dae-su embarks on a quest for vengeance, finding himself caught in a web of conspiracy and violence, and perhaps more surprisingly, he finds himself in love.

“Oldboy” is  chock full of drama, intrigue, twist and turns, and incredibly graphic violence. But none of those elements are plot devices or mere spectacle, as Roger Ebert put it, “‘Oldboy’ is a powerful film not because of what it depicts, but because of the depths of the human heart which it strips bare.” The film is the consummate revenge movie, just as upon his release, its protagonist is vengeance incarnate. In perhaps the film’s most famous scene, Oh Dae-su fights through a hallway filled to the brim with mobsters working for his enemies armed with nothing but a hammer. Oh, and he’s got a knife jammed into his back. It doesn’t matter, there is nothing that will stop Oh Dae-su from uncovering why anyone would feel the need to incarcerate him, a seemingly good, ordinary man—though he is not without his faults, namely his tendency to drink—for 15 years.

I don’t want to reveal too much, but I will say that Oh Dae-su, a man seemingly addicted to his need for vengeance, ultimately discovers that his jailer was equally addicted, and arguably even justified in his actions. This is “Oldboy’s” crowning achievement, that after both Oh Dae-su and the audience spend nearly the full length of the film thirsting for both answers and recompense, when the climax comes, we wonder whether he’s truly in the right or if we were just rooting for him because of the given perspective.

Ultimately, I believe Oh Dae-su is the film’s “good guy.” But the real world is not filled with heroes and villains, or blacks and whites, but shades of grey. So too is “Oldboy.”

Check out the trailer below and follow the writer on Twitter @NateKreichman.