Showing posts with label Christopher Walken. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christopher Walken. Show all posts

Friday, June 26, 2026

1978: The Deer Hunter.

Michael stalks a deer on a hunting trip.
Mike (Robert DeNiro) stalks a deer on his last hunting trip before shipping out to Vietnam.

The Deer Hunter

Release Date: Dec. 8, 1978. Running Time: 184 minutes. Screenplay: Deric Washburn. Story: Deric Washburn, Michael Cimino, Louis A. Garfinkle, Quinn K. Redeker. Producer: Barry Spikings, Michael Deeley, Michael Cimino, John Peverall. Director: Michael Cimino.


THE PLOT:

Clairton, Pennsylvania steel worker Steve (John Savage) is getting married just before he and buddies Mike (Robert DeNiro) and Nick (Christopher Walken) are due to ship out to Vietnam. While Steve spends the weekend with his new bride, Mike and Nick join their other friends on one last hunting trip into the mountains.

Mike returns from the war, physically whole but feeling distant from his old life. He learns that Steve is alive and at a nearby VA hospital, but when he starts to call, he ends up putting the phone down. Meanwhile, a psychologically scarred Nick goes AWOL the day before he's supposed to go back home, vanishing without a trace.

Or so Mike believes, until the day that he finally brings himself to visit Steve. He discovers that his injured friend has been receiving shipments of cash from Saigon. There's only one explanation: Nick is still alive and still in Saigon. With the US soon to withdraw, that leaves only a short window for Mike to go back to Vietnam, to find Nick and bring him home.

Mike, Nick (Christopher Walken), and Steve (John Savage) escape from the Vietcong.
Mike, Nick (Christopher Walken), and Steve (John Savage) stage a desperate escape.

CHARACTERS:

Mike: The natural leader of the friend group, Mike takes charge both in the mountains when hunting and during the trio's escape from a Vietcong prison camp. DeNiro conveys the strength of a natural leader. Even more important to the film, he invests Mike with a certain soulfulness. DeNiro makes convincing a taciturn man who is awkward and uncertain in social situations, but absolutely in control in a crisis. He's also able to hint at Mike's psychological pain without a trace of histrionics. It's certainly no crime that Jon Voight won the Best Actor Oscar for his excellent work in Coming Home - but for my money, DeNiro's quiet, introspective performance here is even better.

Stan: In his final acting role, John Cazale is as excellent as ever, playing that member of the friend group who is more tolerated than actually liked. Stan is introduced preening into a mirror, much to his friends' amusement. During the hunting trip, he screams nasally at Mike for refusing to lend him hunting boots after forgetting his own. Despite his general obnoxiousness, there's always a sense of something more beneath the surface. After Mike's return, he seems more aware than some of the others that he isn't as "fine" as he pretends, something Cazale conveys entirely through glances and body language. Also, the night before his friends go off to war, Stan seems absolutely devastated, sitting at the piano of their favorite bar, staring into the distance with a truly stricken expression.

Nick: Mike's best friend and hunting partner. He's the most compassionate of the group, and it falls to him to make peace between Mike and Stan when they have their argument. In Vietnam, he refuses to let Mike abandon Steve when it looks like their friend might not make it. His empathic nature is probably what leads to him being so psychologically broken by their experiences. When a military doctor brusquely asks him to verify basic personal information, he freezes, unable to remember his parents' birthdates and seeming to struggle to even speak. It's a scene that Walken plays perfectly, with no trace of the overacting that he would later become known for.

Steven: The bridegroom is also the most vulnerable member of the group. At the wedding, he nervously confesses to the others that he and Angela have not yet consummated their relationship (though judging from the baby that we see after the return from war, that doesn't pose any problem after the ceremony). When the trio are captured, he fares the worst, literally crying out in terror while Mike and Nick do their best to remain calm. He attempts to hide from Angela after his return, apparently ashamed of his injuries, though he seems entirely mentally sound when Mike visits him.

Linda: Early scenes make it clear that, though she's in a relationship with Nick, there is a mutual if unspoken attraction between her and Mike. When Mike comes home without Nick, it doesn't take long before they are framed as a couple. She remains worried and anxious about Nick, but she does her best to behave normally. There's really only one scene in which she completely lets her guard down, when Mike drops by her work to find her sobbing uncontrollably in the back, even as she insists to him that she's fine. This and television miniseries Holocaust were Meryl Streep's breakthrough roles, and she is quietly excellent, earning emotion by convincingly playing someone who does as much as she can not to show what she's feeling.

John: Speaking of quietly excellent performances, George Dzundza makes memorable a character who, on the page, is one of the more peripheral members of the friend group. He runs the bar where they all hang out, and he comes across as a cheerful presence. He throws himself into dancing at Steve's wedding, and he's just as enthusiastic when bowling. There are two moments that show how affected he is by his friends' departure: the first, when he plays the piano beside Stan just before the trio ship out; and the second, when he's preparing breakfast for everyone and declines offers of help, only to go in the back and sob once he's completely alone.

Mike dances with Linda (Meryl Streep).
Mike dances with Linda (Meryl Streep) at Steve's wedding.

THOUGHTS:

For most of the 1970s, American cinema tended to shy away from directly tackling the war in Vietnam. By 1978, filmmakers and studios apparently decided that it was time to pick at the scab. That year saw two major releases, both dealing heavily with the pyschological impact of the war. The first was Coming Home, an antiwar drama that won Oscars for stars Jane Fonda and Jon Voight. The second film, the one which won Best Picture, was The Deer Hunter.

The Deer Hunter isn't overt in its politics the way Coming Home is. Its characters aren't political people. They are working class, mostly second-generation immigrants, working hard and living their lives day by day. Mike, Nick, and Steve don't seem motivated by patriotic fervor. There's not much sense that they're motivated by much. The war is there, and they go because they can't come up with any reason not to.

One of the more interesting qualities in The Deer Hunter is its pacing. Scenes set in Vietnam dominate the middle. This section is tightly-scripted and edited. The trio's imprisonment and escape create roughly thirty minutes of sustained tension, and there's not one wasted second in that extended sequence. This efficiency extends to the immediate aftermath, notably a sequence that follows Nick through what's meant to be his last day before returning home. Particularly on rewatch, this sequence uses a lot of the language of a thriller, with Nick given multiple opportunities to avoid what ends up befalling him.

Both the first and last hour are set mostly in the characters' hometown, Clairton. These scenes are anything but tight. This is particularly true of the first hour, which co-writer/director Michael Cimino allows to meander through their normal lives. The characters enjoy each other's company at a bar, celebrate at Steve's wedding, and go on their last big hunting trip, and this takes more than an hour of screen time.

From a narrative standpoint, this could fairly easily be cut in half. However, I think doing so would reduce the movie. By allowing the day of Steve's wedding to play out organically, the viewer is given a strong sense of the characters' relationships within the group. Critically, this opening Act is all about the characters. Even during the big set piece of Steve's wedding, the camera keeps moving from the activity back to the main characters. There are moments of humor, moments that show Mike's leadership role in the group, moments that foreshadow what these friends will soon suffer... and because it's allowed space to just unfold, even bits such as a veteran giving a succinct, two word answer to questions of what it's like in Vietnam feel not like dramatic scenes, but instead like things that just happen during the day that we observe.

Mike returns to the mountains.
Mike returns to the mountains to hunt, allowing cinematographer
Vilmos Zsigmond to create a moment of ethereal beauty.

The entire film is wonderfully shot. Vilmos Zsigmond's BAFTA winning cinematography captures not only the settings, but their roles in the story. Mike's mountain refuge is beautiful, even ethereal. Clairton is naturalistic. The Vietnam scenes are harsher in their visual look, emphasized by lighting choices and a greater reliance on close-ups than in the rest of the film. When Mike returns to Vietnam to find Nick, that harshness is magnified. When he walks into the underground club that is Nick's refuge, there's a sense that Mike is making a journey into hell.

Given the cast, it's unsurprising that performances are superb from top to bottom. What is notable is how much both the actors and the movie resist any temptation toward histrionics. This extends to the ending, a ten minute epilogue that in some ways mirrors the expansive opening Act.

Like the rest of the film, there are no speeches made. The characters are striving for normality. They aren't indulging their emotions, they're trying to avoid them by focusing on mundane activity. Even the famous final moment, as the characters sing together, builds organically. They don't sing as a political statement. It's just a moment among people, one that's delivered haltingly and with a mix of emotions... which in itself is probably the most effective statement the movie could have chosen for its ending.

The group gathers at John's bar.
Mike and his friends gather at John (George Dzundza)'s bar.

OVERALL:

A nitpick I have is not with the movie itself, but with its Blu-ray presentation. The film looks gorgeous, but its audio is muddled. I was surprised, as I'd seen it before on both VHS and television. I was actually driven to dig out my old videotape, and I can verify that the VHS has much clearer audio than the Blu-ray. I'm guessing an attempt at a Dolby "up-mix" turned into a "down-mix."

That aside, The Deer Hunter holds up as an excellent motion picture. It is not a realistic account of the War in Vietnam, something many others have critiqued at length... but since I don't think it's striving to be one, I find that entirely forgivable. The Vietnam sequence is a superb suspense piece, and the characters' psychological reactions feel realistic, and that's enough for me to believe in the drama.

It falls just short of full marks, mainly because I don't think it's quite at the level of the Best Picture Winners to which I have given the top score. But I'd still rate this as a very fine motion picture.


Rating: 9/10.

Best Picture - 1977: Annie Hall
Best Picture - 1979: Kramer vs. Kramer

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Thursday, April 2, 2026

1977: Annie Hall.

Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) and Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) fall in love.
Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) and Annie Hall (Diane Keaton)
"meet cute" and fall in love - for a little while...

Release Date: Mar. 27, 1977. Running Time: 93 minutes. Written by: Woody Allen, Marshall Brickman. Producer: Charles H. Joffe. Director: Woody Allen.


THE PLOT:

Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is a successful comedian, but he lives his life like a failure. He is anxious and neurotic, and he's obsessed with death. He states that life is "full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly." His neuroses have plagued his relationships, resulting in failed marriages to two intelligent, accomplished young women.

Then Alvy meets Annie Hall (Diane Keaton). She's the polar opposite of his previous partners: an insecure, unsophisticated WASP from Wisconsin. They fall hopelessly in love, and they are very happy together... for a little while. But Alvy's paranoid and passive-aggressive tendencies just keep growing. As time passes, the once-insecure Annie begins to feel that the man she loves is suffocating her, and that it might just be time to move on...

Alvy has dinner with Annie's family.
Alvy shares an awkward meal with Annie's family.

CHARACTERS:

Alvy Singer: Like most of Woody Allen's roles, Alvy is a version of himself. Alvy is a comedian, and some of his jokes are funny - but those same jokes are his defense mechanism. When his relationship with Annie starts, he makes sure to use big words and make lots of intellectual references, reinforcing her worry that she's "not smart enough for him." He nudges her into college courses and therapy so that she can improve herself and communicate on his level. Then he becomes paranoid, likely realizing that a more confident Annie will be less inclined to put up with him.

Annie Hall: Diane Keaton, as the title character, actually has the more dynamic role. Annie is nervous and awkward when she first meets Alvy, certain that she's not smart enough to be with him, and she allows him to be the dominant figure in their early relationship. Unlike Alvy, she changes and grows. She takes the adult education courses he pushes on her, she sees a therapist recommended by his therapist, and she becomes self-assured. When we first see her singing in a club, she is practically wincing and cringing at every sound. Later on, she sings with confidence - and by this point, she's already noticing and kicking against Alvy's controlling tendencies.

Rob: Alvy's laid-back best friend, Rob (Tony Roberts) tries to persuade him to move to California, where there is more sun and less crime. Eventually, Rob makes that move, and he is happy in his superficial new life: shooting a low-effort sitcom that requires a laugh track because the jokes aren't funny and spending his considerable free time chasing much younger women... including 16-year-olds, something he loudly brags about at one point. Yeah, um, I could have lived without that mental image, Rob, thanks.

Allison Portchnik: Alvy's first wife, whom he meets when performing at a political function. It's a small role, with Allison glimpsed only in flashback, but Carol Kane is remarkably appealing. There's no question that she's "smart enough" to keep up with Alvy. When he tries to dominate their first conversation by making a series of assumptions, she drolly responds: "I love being reduced to a cultural stereotype." At which point Alvy comes as close as we ever see to... well, if not apologizing, then at least acknowledging bad behavior.

The Hall Family: Colleen Dewhurst and Donald Symington are Annie's parents, who look like the absolute stereotype of a middle American family. They assure Annie that they find Alvy to be "adorable," but they stare blankly at his jokes, while Grammy Hall (Helen Ludlam) glares at him with anti-Semitic hatred. A young Christopher Walken swipes the entire "family visit" sequence when he talks about his suicidal urges while driving, the night before he takes Alvy and Annie to the airport.

Christopher Walken as Annie's brother, Duane.
Christopher Walken as Annie's brother, Duane, sets up one of the film's best laughs.

MY COMPLICATED REACTION TO WOODY ALLEN:

I have never been a Woody Allen fan.

I tried to get into his work in the '90s, when the prevailing attitude was that you didn't love movies if you didn't love his movies. Even then, I struggled to connect with a lot of his output. Many of his films struck me as pretentious and self-impressed. I also felt that his comedy persona often crossed the line from self-deprecation to mere self-pity - never a good quality, and a particularly poor one for a successful, respected multi-millionaire.

This isn't me trying to stake out morally superior ground now that he's persona non grata ("I hated him before it was cool"). There are films of his that I really like. I think The Purple Rose of Cairo and Hannah and Her Sisters are terrific. I legitimately enjoyed Manhattan, even if the entire thread with Mariel Hemingway now plays uncomfortably like a confession. I'm also fond of Zelig, which pulled off the Forrest Gump feat of seamlessly inserting its title character into historical events before CGI was a thing, and without taking 2 1/2 hours to tell its story. A good film from a problematic filmmaker remains a good film, and Woody Allen has made some good films.

But I'm not a fan of his work overall - and though I respect its accomplishment as a movie, that extends to Annie Hall.

Annie's private thoughts during a conversation are revealed through subtitles.
During their first meeting, Annie's and Alvy's secret thoughts are revealed through subtitles,
one of several clever moments in a clever and well-made movie.

IT'S A FINE MOVIE...:

Let me clear: Annie Hall is a very good movie. Star Wars was obviously the "big" film of 1977, and with benefit of hindsight should have won on the basis of cultural impact alone. Still, within the romantic comedy genre, Annie Hall is almost as influential, and its script is far more substantial.

Allen plays with a lot of different techniques. The movie opens with a fourth wall break, establishing that what we see isn't the actual relationship, but rather Alvy going through it in his mind. He admits that he probably didn't actually grow up in an apartment under an amusement park, but that is what we see every time the film returns to his childhood home. When he and Annie are bickering, Alvy envisions them as characters in the animated Snow White, with Annie as the wicked stepmother; when he tries to blame her bad mood on her period, she points out that she's a cartoon and therefore doesn't have periods. The movie continuously reminds us that what we're watching Alvy's memories, which may not perfectly match the events he's remembering.

There are plenty of clever touches. When Alvy and Annie first meet, they launch into a conversation about photography, each trying to come across as knowledgeable. Subtitles fill in their thoughts, with Annie worrying that she can't keep up with his intellect and Alvy fretting that he's coming across as shallow... right before Alvy begins to wonder what she looks like naked while she hopes that he doesn't turn out to be "a schmuck like the others." The scene is genuinely funny, and it demonstrates both characters: Annie wanting to grow, while Alvy frets about how he appears to other people.

On this viewing, I was particularly struck by how beautifully shot the film is. This was Woody Allen's first collaboration with Gordon Willis, the cinematographer best known for The Godfather. Annie Hall doesn't call attention to its photography - but every shot is perfectly framed and lit, not only for aesthetics but also for setting the mood of the scene. Characters are meticulously positioned within shots, ready not only for initial positions but to accommodate movements, while also - sometimes more critically - capturing reactions.

Alvy, alone in Manhattan.
Alvy, alone. This movie's photography is stunning in a way that doesn't call attention to itself.

...BUT IT'S ONE THAT I DON'T ENJOY:

By any reasonable measure, this is a very good movie. I just don't particularly like it. I didn't enjoy it when I first saw it, back in the 1990s. I held out some hope that maybe, now that I'm a fair bit older than Allen was when he made it, that I'd get more out of it than I did in my twenties.

For what it's worth, I did in terms of appreciating its themes. Sure, there are references that flew over my head because: I'm not Jewish; I have never lived in New York; and in 1977, I was less concerned with art and culture than with which objects would fit in my nose and which would fit in my ears. But I recognize the artistry and sincerity in a way that I couldn't when I was younger.

But even on this viewing, curmudgeonly middle-aged me still doesn't actually enjoy it very much, and I'm not entirely sure why. Yes, I find Alvy to be borderline unbearable. But I think that's intentional. Woody Allen cranks up the dial on the most annoying tendencies of his comic persona, making himself more irritating than usual. Objectively, his character in Manhattan is more objectionable than Alvy (a lot more), but he doesn't annoy as much because in that movie, Allen is less fidgety and occasionally even shuts up.

"Shutting up" is something that Alvy Singer resolutely refuses to do. He is incessantly complaining about how things are affecting or inconveniencing him. Everything is selfish: Even when he congratulates Annie for singing well, he filters that through him having refused to allow her to quit - and he immediately becomes closed off when a record producer (Paul Simon) stops by to express his appreciation.

Basically, the script portrays a toxic relationship long before the term "toxic" was coined. It does so convincingly, not least because Alvy and Annie have clear chemistry together and are seen in genuinely happy moments, making it believable that they stick together for so long after they stop enjoying each other's company. The script even allows Alvy a smidgeon of growth, albeit only at the very end.

As I said, it's a good movie. I absolutely respect it as a work of art. And yet, save for individual scenes and moments, I feel at a distance while watching it.

Alvy and Annie share a miserable plane flight.
Alvy and Annie share a miserable plane flight, to the point of not even looking at each other.

OVERALL:

Annie Hall tells a substantial story, and it utilizes a variety of techniques - nonlinear storytelling, an unreliable narrator, split screen, an animated sequence, bits of low-key surrealism - and it utilizes all of them well. The cinematography is gorgeous, and it's all the more impressive for being unostentatious. There is no artistic measure by which Annie Hall could be said to fail.

Historically, most viewers have enjoyed it a lot more than me. I will even admit that there are individual moments that I love: the conversation with subtitles revealing inner thoughts; the family dinner; a perfectly set-up visual gag involving cocaine.

Ultimately, however, it is not a movie that I enjoy. It's superbly realized; as art, it deserves at least a "9," with a "10" not being out of the question. But my score has to also reflect my own viewing experience, and as an entertainment for me, it comes in around a "4."

So splitting the difference, and with a giant asterisk next to this score, I'm going to award it...


Rating: 6/10. The emperor isn't naked, and his clothes are in fact beautifully tailored - I'm just not a fan of the resulting outfit.

Best Picture - 1976: Rocky
Best Picture - 1978: The Deer Hunter

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