Captain Blood (1935)

Well, what is there to say about this one?  There is a thin but persistent political undercurrent - a recurring theme of bondage, of masters and slaves in various (and fluctuating) relationships, leading unequivocally to the conclusion that servants owe nothing to an unjust leader.  Sortof the lighthearted, blockbuster version of The Battleship Potemkin.  Potentially heady stuff in another time and place, but here it's pure, escapist entertainment, painted with broad, bold strokes and absolutely unapologetic about it.  That's what makes it great.  These days it's hard to make a film like this, largely because there are only so many variations possible without diluting the purity of the essential story.  Usually they either come out as a ripoff or a convoluted mess.  The key is all in the performance.  You have to set aside doubt and go straight at it with the strength and certainty of Errol Flynn's chin.

Captain Blood (1935)

This is easily my favorite movie that we've watched thus far.  HIGHLY entertaining, well acted (mostly - but more on that later), well paced, good action, etc.  I honestly have next to no complaints about this film.  I was very interested to see how influential Errol Flynn is though.  Amazingly enough, this is the first Errol Flynn movie I have ever seen (and yes, I do have a bit of a crush on him...or at least on his character of Peter Blood. What a FOX.)

King Kong (1933)

Like most of the films on this project, I had never seen King Kong before.  The reason is simple; I simply had no interest in a stop motion monster movie from the 30s.  Similarly, I've never seen Godzilla.  Now that I have seen Kong, I'm having strong emotions about it, which Robin assures me is the whole point of the movie.

King Kong (1933)

All of the great monster movies are tragedies.  Though there doesn't seem to be any obvious reason for it, it's something essential to the genre.  Perhaps because it forces a moral reckoning: we stand in awe of the mighty beast, yet what terrible power do we wield that destroys it?  And, beyond the moral implications, that equivalency plays on anxieties about our own mortality.  What should be a celebration of victory inevitably becomes a contemplation of the impermanence of all things.  The King is dead.  Long live the King.

Little Caesar (1931)

My parents enjoy telling me how, when I first emerged wrinkly and screaming into the world, I looked just like Edward G. Robinson.  I like this, and I think it says something about my parents.  I think if more parents were truly honest with themselves, they'd find this was true of their babies too.  Some of us were downright reptilian to start with.

So what I noticed while watching Robinson's performance in Little Caesar, is that the comparison folds neatly back on itself.  For his character, Rico, is a lot like a baby.  The sort of angry, tempestuous baby everyone fears the most.  He always wants more, wants better, wants wants wants.  Gimme gimme gimme.  He has no patience.  He needs to be the center of attention.  Anytime he isn't doing anything else, he's complaining.  Once he achieves power and success, he has an almost adorable uncertainty of what to do with it.  Possibly my favorite scene is when he comes over to the head honcho's pad, and isn't quite sure what to say about all the nice furniture, or what to do with his cigar.  But he watches the Big Boy's actions and tastes, and copies them later on.  Not because he really likes or even understands them - just because that's what he saw a big important person do, so he copies it.  Eventually he navigates their awkward conversation by admiring everything in terms of price.  See, he's not interested in the thing itself, but what it took to get it.  Being successful - actually having things - isn't what he's good at.  What he's good at is wanting things.  Taking.  Grabbing.  And snarling until he gets his way.  As a baby he was the kind of kid who couldn't just play with the toy he was holding.  He had to play with whatever toy somebody else was holding.  And God forbid you don't want to play whatever game he wants to play, or he'll gun you down on the cathedral steps.

Little Caesar (1931)

Have any of you ever wondered what English must sound like to non-English speakers?  Well, I have.  Growing up speaking nothing but English I have never had any problems understanding spoken English.  I'd listen to other languages and think how interesting and completely different they sound, because I don't understand any of their words.  I knew on a logical level that these same people must feel the same about English when they hear it, but I could never imagine what it might actually sound like to them.

Now I can.

"Little Caesar" is the first full talkie we've seen, and it was so difficult to understand that I had to turn the subtitles on about five minutes into it just to keep up.  This is not only due to the completely different slang of the 30's, but to the incredible speed these actors spoke at combined with their nasal gangster accents.  There were literally times in the movie where they spoke so fast and so unintelligibly that I felt like I was watching a movie in a foreign language.  What a trippy feeling that was.

The Jazz Singer (1927)

I wasn't sure what to expect here.  I knew it wasn't a full talkie, and I knew the synced sound was mostly used for musical performances.  The word "talkie" is important here, btw - The Jazz Singer isn't the first sound film in the broadest sense.  Sunrise had an on-film soundtrack consisting of the score and a few effects, such as applause (and I think thunder, but maybe the cinematography just made me remember thunder...), as did a few other films.  What Jazz Singer pioneered was discernible words coming out of people's mouths in a feature film.  This only happens twice as spoken dialogue, but both times are impressive.  The first synced dialogue ever: "Wait a minute, wait a minute, you ain't heard nothin' yet!"  How perfect is that?

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)

I'd never heard of this movie before I began assembling this list.  Not sure how it fell under the radar - I guess its memory was trampled by Metropolis and The Jazz Singer, which came out the same year.  But the name kept popping up as I did my research - not usually at the top of the list, but on every list.  And I thought, "Huh."  And then upon closer inspection, I saw that it was directed by F. W. Murnau, famed German expressionist director best remembered for bringing us this image.  And I thought, "Huh."  So, we watched it.  And I thought, ...well you get it.  The point is, why didn't anybody mention this one before?