Operation Finale

Herr Kaptor and the Architect
or
"They Pop Up Everywhere, Like Mushrooms After the Rain"

Years and years and years ago, I read "The House on Garibaldi Street," written by former Mossad chief Isser Harel detailing the capture of "The Last Nazi," Adolf Eichmann, the SS "obersturmbannfuhrer" appointed (by Reinhard Heydrich) with the job outlining the transportation of Jews to concentration camps as part of the Nazi "Final Solution," becoming known as "The Architect of the Holocaust". Eichmann managed to use the confusion of the post-war era to escape from Germany to Austria and then on to Argentina through the use of forged papers and heavily greased palms. But, after the war, he became the focus of a man-hunt by Holocaust survivors, where his presence in Argentina became known. Although more concerned with Israel's internal security, Harel was persuaded to undertake the capture of Eichmann—assassination was not considered after the execution of others, whose identity as Eichmann had not been verified—to bring him to Israel for trial. Shin Bet agents were dispatched for positive identification and only after it was determined they had their man, another team was dispatched to capture him and transport him back to Israel. 

Sounds relatively easy. But, like any good "Impossible Mission," there will always be complications, especially given an undertaking of this sort. International boundaries are crossed. Foreign agents are in a foreign land. The extraction of a citizen amounts to kidnapping. Then, there are bureaucratic details that must be overcome, which, given the nature of the mission, can seen to be so much red tape, especially when there are lives on the line. It only complicates an already complicated situation, which adds to the drama. It's a natural for dramatization.

"The House on Garibaldi Street" was made into a television film in 1979. American network TNT made a TV movie called "The Man Who Captured Eichmann" with Robert Duvall and Arliss Howard. Now, along comes Operation Finale, written by Matthew Orton (based on "Eichmann in my Hands," written by Shin Bet operative Peter Malkin) and directed by Chris Weitz (he of American Pie, About a Boy, The Golden Compass, and Twilight: New Moon) as a sort of passion project and goes into some of the more interesting details as well as the psychology of the team on the mission. It's based on Malkin's book, so Malkin is the focus, that cause not being hurt by the fact that one of the producers is Oscar Isaac who plays Malkin.

Operation Finale begins on a woman's face looking at us from the screen; she is the sister of Peter Malkin, killed by SS troops as she attempts to hide in the woods with her children to keep them from the slaughter. Malkin sees this as he looks in the mirror, shaving, a memory, an imagining of the event that haunts him and drives him. And gets him in trouble. Malkin doesn't have a good reputation with Shin Bet; he's been demoted to training other agents after a German living in Argentina is shot for war-crimes in a case of mistaken identity. Other agents don't trust him and are only too quick to tell him that. But, he still burns to go back in the field, even if the Mossad is less concerned with Nazi-hunting than they are with current threats to their border. Better fending off future threats than avenging the ones of the past. 

And something has come up in Argentina, which is starting to go through a surge of heightened anti-semitism and white nationalism. Nazi's have nothing to do with irony, so no one ever stops to think that it might be strengthened by the fact that the country is harboring fugitive Nazi's. Of course, the country is in danger of being infiltrated by outsiders because a German ex-patriate told me so.

But, just when the hunting stops, life intrudes with one of those little happenstances that defy the most careful planning and derails the most entrenched of secrets (it's why conspiracy theories are usually wrong—the truth will out, and if it doesn't, it isn't truth*). The daughter (Haley Lu Richardson) of a Holocaust survivor, Lothar Hermann (Peter Strauss), starts to date a young man names Klaus—Klaus Eichmann—and things go far enough that Klaus is invited over for dinner and Hermann, who is half-Jewish (he was sent to the camps for being a socialist) is able to play along with his suspicions about his young dinner guest, who has definite antisemitic views—"The Jews, they pop up everywhere, like mushrooms after the rain" (you could say the same thing about Nazi's, eh?)—and is proud of his father's service in the SS. Lothar asks him if he's still alive and young Klaus says that, no, he was killed during the war and he actually lives with his uncle, who is also from Germany.

It's enough for Lothar to contact Israeli authorities that he may have found a link to Adolf Eichmann, but the Mossad are dis-interested, due, not only to their current security concerns, but also that the source of the information, Lothar Hermann, is blind, due to the many beatings he endured at the Dachau work camp.

Although the Mossad is slow to pursue Eichmann, there are factions that won't let it rest and plans are drawn up for an investigation to be led by Harel (Lior Raz) to, first, contact the Hermanns so that they can survey the house and maybe capture a photograph of the "uncle" to see if it is Eichmann, and, if his identity can be confirmed, send another team in for a "snatch and extract" to take Eichmann back to Israel to stand trial for war-crimes. Because Malkin has messed up in the past, agent Zvi Aharoni (Michael Aronov), a meticulous researcher is sent first to Argentina to determine the identity of "the uncle" and get photographs, if possible. Aharoni doesn't like Malkin, and would be just as glad if he didn't have anything to do with the assignment, but Malkin is assigned to do the extraction, if it comes to that.

Back in Argentina, Klaus and the daughter, Sylvia, have broken up—he'd invited her to a get-together of friends, which turns out to be a gathering of Nazi sympathizers, whose main agenda for the evening is big talk about exterminating Jews. Sylvia runs away in horror. But, it provides an opportunity for the Shin Bet agents to use her to get more information by pretending to a reconciliation. Sylvia goes to the Eichmann home on Garibaldi Street where she meets "the uncle," whom Klaus, during a heated moment calls "father." The uncle is actually Eichmann.

The second team, which includes an old flame of Malkin's, Dr. Hanna Elian (Melanie Laurent)—she is a fictionalized version of a male doctor enlisted to drug Eichmann to get him on the plane out, presumably to add an emotional element to the story—each take their own route to Argentina, set up a safe-house in which to house their intended captive, and monitor Eichmann's activities. True to an SS officer's form, his schedule is like clockwork ("a human metronome" as Malkin calls him), taking a bus every morning to his job as a supervisor at a Mercedes Benz plant, returning at night to home and family.

But, like any best-laid plan, or intricately-timed spy mission, things can get changed, no matter how steady the target. When Eichmann's regular bus comes and goes, the SS man isn't on it. It turns out, Eichmann has missed the first bus after his shift by the merest of caprice—he stands watching, fascinated, at a flock of birds making intricate patterns in the sky during a feeding frenzy. Tense minutes tick by, as the agents wonder what might have gone wrong. Just when they're about to abandon the activity for the night, the next bus arrives and Eichmann's on it. The Israeli's regroup and Malkin takes the lead, walking toward Eichmann and saying the merest of distractions—"Uno momentito, senor"—then grabs Eichmann in a choke-hold, covering his mouth and immobilizing him, while the other two agents rush to assist. Eichmann has only a moment to let out a yell—heard by his wife (Greta Scacchi) preparing dinner—before he is carted off to a waiting car.

Mission accomplished.

But, getting him out of Argentina undetected is another matter. A planned El Al flight is postponed—for ten days—and with a bureaucratic caveat—they must produce a letter, signed by Eichmann, giving his consent to be extradited to Israel. It's an insane request, but one that has to be met if the agents are to leave the country with their captive. What motivation could possibly compel Eichmann to sign what amounts to a confession and permission for his trial and probably execution? They have ten days. What do they do? Talk about your mission: impossible.

There then becomes a race against time as the agents in the safe-house try to persuade Eichmann to agree to sign the extradition paper and keeping their composure with each other knowing that they have ten days to do it, while at the same time, outside, the Argentinian crypto-nazi's, who learn of Eichmann's disappearance (from his son), do a very thorough search for him throughout the city. Those ten days are tests of will among the participants, as the Israeli's, who naturally vilify Eichmann, must take care of him and keep him healthy, while also trying to coerce him to sign what amounts to his death warrant...or they can't leave. And Eichmann is a tough study: "This guy convinced rabbi's to load the trains!" one of them points out, when there's a moment of underestimating him.

This sounds like it would be unremittingly grim, but it, surprisingly, isn't. The script is smart, often witty, and darkly ironic. Director Weitz knows his thriller playbook very well, and manages to improve on some standard tropes keeping them fresh and taut, cross-cutting increasingly fast between the safe-house and the groups looking for it, and there is a particularly deft camera-tango for a restaurant scene where exchanges are made. It is accompanied by something that's becoming quite rare in films these days—a great, showy score by the increasingly dependable Alexandre Desplat that gets under your skin and ramps up the tension while being melodic, as well. It completes a package that makes Operation Finale feel more like it's out of the classic era of film-making and films where there is less emphasis on flash and more on the good presentation of ideas.

Adolf Eichmann on trial in Israel: "The Man in the Glass Booth"

* Or, in simpler terms, "Man conspires and God laughs." Plus there's the predilection that if somebody does something, they're going to want it be known. Just Mark Felt.

5 Fingers

5 Fingers (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1952) Factually-based WWII spy story produced by 20th Century Fox, shepherded by studio head Darryl F. Zanuck, based on a 1950 book with a screenplay by soon-to-be-blacklisted writer Michael Wilson (with some dialogue additions by Mankiewicz whose contract with 20th was almost up), directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, with a jittery score by Bernard Herrmann and filmed in many of the locations where the incidents supposedly took place (according to the producers).

5 Fingers has, as its spine, the notion that there is no honor among thieves (or spies, for all that) as the shadowy figures spend most of their screen-time suspecting each other of duplicity, while never really knowing the depths that duplicity would reach.

It is 1944, and the Swiss Countess Anna Staviska (Danielle Darrieux) is in exile in Angarat, Turkey eking out an existence by selling her jewelry in order to maintain lodging at a fairly grubby flat. She is making the rounds of swanky get-togethers where she offers her services as an intelligence agent to give information to the diplomatic corps, whether it be British or German.

But, her career as a spy doesn't gain much traction, probably because she has nothing to sell. She might have better luck if she knew who her competition is—Ulysses Diello (James Mason), the valet for the British Ambassador in Turkey, Sir Frederic Taylor (Walter Hampden). On the very night that the Countess has been chatting up Taylor and German ambassador Count Franz von Papen (John Wengraf) for spywork, Diello makes a clandestine meeting with von Papen's attaché Moyzisch (Oskar Karlweis) to propose a mutually beneficial relationship: for the sum of 20,000 British pounds, Diello will provide top secret papers to the Germans with the promise of several more drops of information...for a price.

Moyzisch is excited at the prospect—it elevates him somewhat in the Reich's eyes—and urges von Papen to take it, and the Germans tentatively agree to Diello's terms. Diello's plan is simple—he has access to Taylor's safe and, in the ambassador's absence, he photographs carefully chosen documents, the film to be delivered to Moyzisch for payment. The two have a terse appraisal of each other as Diello (who the Germans code-name "Cicero") delivers his first shipment of secrets. 

But, while Moyzisch dispatches the film to Berlin for inspection, Diello has other interests besides the £20,000 in his pocket; he goes to visit the Countess. He confides with her that he will be coming into quite a substantial bit of money, and he asks of her several requests: she is to keep the money for safety, and he gives her £5,000 of it to buy back her jewelry, and acquire a villa, which will be used as Cicero's "safe house" should he have to meet with higher German authorities—it is his intention to keep the source of his documents a secret and a neutral ground away from the British Embassy will help ensure that.

But, he has more intentions than that. It seems that before he was employed as the valet of the British Ambassador, he served the same function for the late Count Staviska, Anna's husband, and, when their fortunes reversed, he was dismissed. But, he has not forgotten her, as Diello sensed a mutual attraction between the two, and he lets her in on his ultimate plans—once he's acquired the money for his services to the Reich (some £120,000), he will leave Hungary to become a man of the world in South America...and he would like her to join him. The Countess makes it clear to Diello that she still considers him a servant, but is willing to be a contributing partner to his plans. What may come after only time will tell.

The Germans are convinced of the genuineness of Diello's documents—the predicted bombing of a Romanian oil depot by the Allies clinches it and the Reich allows the facility to be destroyed, lest the Allies become suspicious that their plans have been compromised. The regime is only too happy to continue the relationship with "Cicero" but they send a higher German authority, Col. von Richter (Herbert Berghof), to replace the rather careless Moyzisch as the liaison for the secret film. Diello's plans for the villa meetings turns out to be a fortuitous investment as it gives the valet a chance to pose as a more established member of society, which throws the Nazi's off any attempts to learn his actual identity. And, her comfort ensured with the charade, the Countess displays warmer feelings towards Diello.

But, there are complications—the Allies have been intercepting a decoding German communiques and begin to suspect that there's a "leak" somewhere in their communications that are getting to the enemy. The British send a counter-intelligence man, Colin Travers (Michael Rennie) to investigate, and he quickly zeroes in on acquaintances of the Ambassador, and, specifically, the Countess, whose lifestyle has substantially improved after making it known she would serve as a spy for either side. And Travers sets up an elaborate alarm system on the Ambassador's safe.

Plus, the Germans are starting to make demands; von Richter wants the plans for what will be the inevitable push on Germany, Operation Overlord—what will eventually become known in History as "D-Day". Diello agrees that acquiring it will be a great coup, but he raises his price for that particular subject of documents to £ 40,000.

Now, Diello begins a curious cat-and-mouse game where both sides seem to be after him, either as a target or a bargaining chip, and he must change his plans accordingly if his goals are to be achieved.

Again, it's another one of those amazing, suspense stories that came out of the second of the World Wars, where the stakes were so high and the depths to which men could sink seemed limitless. And it's mostly true. The movie is based on a book written by that Nazi attaché, Moyzisch, and names have been changed—"Cicero" was named Elyesna Bazna, not Diello—and Wilson, perhaps to throw some romance into the mix, or to meet a Zanuckian need for a female co-star, invented the character of the Countess out of whole cloth (which gives the film an added depth, actually, and a more perfect dramatic denouement). The film teeters on becoming unhinged with a quality of "who can you trust" among all the players on both sides—it's even revealed that the Allies, after learning of the "leak" at the Embassy, began to send mis-information there to further confuse and obfuscate what was really being planned in the war. Well, of course, they did.

But, ultimately, it is not the secrets that are the true MacGuffin of 5 Fingers, but the notion of the cannibalistic tendencies of the self-serving. With the exception of the intelligence officers sent to track the security breach (and, possibly, the British ambassador), everybody in 5 Fingers is out for themselves. With so parsimony, there can't be much harmony and all of them get something like their "just desserts" with the added humiliation that they almost...almost...reach their goals. It is a wonderful touch of screenwriter Wilson's that Diello gets his comeuppance—and his revenge—simultaneously.

Director Mankiewicz is a utilitarian director—nothing fancy, nothing arty (that would come later in his career), just communicative, the only sequences showing anything visually compelling are in the montage sequences. Where he excels is in the highlighting of the performances, and in that, he is expert, catching the nuances and subtleties of the performances.

There is a delightful story that, while filming was being done in Turkey, both the author Moyzisch and the real "Cicero" separately offered their services to the producers as technical consultants for the film...and both were turned down cold. 

Even Hollywood has its limits on trust.

Inglourious Basterds

Written at the time of the film's release...

"Yaknow sumpin,' Utivich? Thyis Maht Be Mah Masterpyiece"

I run hot and cold on Quentin Tarantino. What most people consider his classics—Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Kill Bill, I find one-off regurgitations of other people's films with gear-grating pop-culture references to con the kids. But I did like the Bruce Willis half of Pulp Fiction (written with Roger Avary) and think the world of his jazzing-up of Jackie Brown. I was even surprised at how much I enjoyed Tarantino's half of Grindhouse, Death Proof. Tarantino's slavish devotion to matching other directors' techniques, combined with his lack of focus as a screen-writer (we went through four interminable hours of Kill Bill to get a lecture on comic-books?) have made his regard as a cinemaster seem like "The Emperor's New Clothes" to me.* Combine that with his reputation as a media-whore, who rarely says anything of much value,** explains why I'm always on the fence on QT. One film at a time, Sweet Jesus.

But I know a great movie when I see one, and Inglourious Basterds*** is a great war film, adventure story, spy story and movie-movie. Tarantino's influences are just as obvious, but more than ever, he puts his own sensibility to it, showing a superb command of the camera, composition, and direction in service to an interesting wish-fulfillment of a World War II story, and a paean to the unholy grip of cinema and its power to blow you away.

It's "Once Upon a Time in Nazi-Occupied France" (your first clue that you're not going to see a by-the-book WWII movie), and Tarantino begins a long prologue-like scene between a dairy farmer and the chief reason for seeing the movie, Christoph Waltz as SS Col. Hans Landa. Waltz's Landa is solicitous, polite, self-satisfied and more than a bit theatrical. That he is well-versed in languages and their subtleties is beyond question. He has a nickname (a lot of characters have nick-names and noms de guerre, few of which they like)—"The Jew Hunter"—and he has come to this farm-house to ask the farmer if he knows what became of a Jewish family who was known to be living in the sector (their current whereabouts unknown). It is a long, excruciatingly tense scene of false cordiality, heavily dependent on dialogue and subtleties of expression on which Tarantino, unable to fall back on street-language and bursts of giddy technique, maintains an iron grip.**** It's extraordinarily well-done and follows the negative contrast of Tarantino-movie-rhythms that dominates the film: a whole lot of talkin' punctuated by a brief manic explosion of violence, like a rubber band being constantly tightened until it snaps.

This episode sets up the Big Duel in the film—between Landa and Jewish refugee Shoshanna Dreyfus (Mélanie Laurent, very good in a multi-faceted role), who escapes to occupied Paris and is now running a movie theater, inherited from her aunt. Between the "chapter" showing us this and the opening, there is an introductory chapter to "The Basterds," a group of Jewish mercenaries dropped into France before D-Day as a "wet-ops" team. Their modus operandi is to scare the Nazis by destroying platoons through any means necessary (including clubbing them to death), then sweating information from the last one standing (and quaking). Led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt, doing a subtle turn as an unsub-tle comic-relief movie-star hero: "We're not in the prisoner-takin' business," he says at one point, "We're in the Nazi-killin' business. And, cousin', business is a'boomin'"), nicknamed "The Apache" for the way his troop mutilates the Nazi corpses to send a message, scalping the dead ones, and carving a large swastika into the fore-heads of the live ones, branding them for life.

By now, it's apparent that the level of violence in Inglourious Basterds is pretty high—brief, but high. The most violent of the Basterds is Sgt. Donny Donowitz—"The Bear Jew"—the one with the baseball bat, and he's appropriately played by Eli Roth, director of the "Hostel" movies, one of the new sub-genre of horror films known as "torture porn." "Watchin' Donny beat Nazis is as close as we get to goin' to the movies," says Raines to Donowitz's next victim, setting up the major theme of the film. The violence is sometimes excruciating, but the major set-pieces are filmed with quick, intricate cuts and with an overall unsentimental sensibility. Tarantino spares no feelings and good guys get killed with the bad guys early and often and surprisingly.

"The Basterds," being in their unique position behind enemy lines, are recruited to help the British with "Operation: Kino," as explained by General Ed Fenech (Mike Myers, doing his own version of "Basil Exposition"*****) to Lt. Archie Hickox (Michael Fassbender, the epitome of fussy), a former film-critic and intelligence officer in charge of the operation (Winston Churchill, supervises the briefing, as portrayed by Rod Taylor (!!)). But as with most espionage stories, the best laid plans...sometimes require a last-minute re-write.

Ultimately, all the parties converge onto one spot—that cinema in Paris that becomes the center-piece of "Operation: Kino" (or what's left of it), and in a confluence of hidden allies and enemies and dramatic cross-purposes the film reaches a stunning crescendo, a "Götterdämmerung" that would have made Fritz Lang proud. This is all done with a careful precision, a precise plotting, and some superb directions and mis-directions on the part of the director, with the photographic wizardry of Robert Richardson and a soundtrack laden with bravado 60's film-music from the likes of Charles and Elmer Bernstein, Ennio Morricone, and pointed contributions from Billy Preston and David Bowie.

But...but...what the movie comes down to is a movie about movies, which seems a bit puerile, and a bit soon in Tarantino's career to have the medium eating its own tail for subject matter. Sure, he loves the movies. That's always been clear. But the movies he loves are about something...not just that they're great movies. Howard Hawks took his arctic explorers, and air-mail pilots, and posse's and rhino-hunters, and they became metaphors for movie-making and of how disparate groups of talented people unite in a cause, but I can't remember a film he made about movie-makers that wasn't about something else. Here, Tarantino's rough-hewn coalitions band together, and it's about...what a great thing movies are. As a celebration of the cine-mah, it's an orgiastically great success, and I think its his best film.

but...but...

Can we say something more next time? Can we light up the screen to say something more than movies light up the screen? Can we have less fireworks, and more of a reason to have them?

And so I remain on the fence, hoping for the future.

One film at a time, Sweet Jesus.

* Miramax put out a DVD of ChunKing Express as part of its "Quentin Tarantino Presents" series. Frankly, Kar Wai Wong should be presenting HIM.

** I had to turn off an interview with Charlie Rose, as Tarantino spouted out writerly cliches on his prowess as a writer ("First I come up with the characters and they write themselves!") I see, that's why, with a war going on—that we don't see—everybody's as movie-obsessed as QT in Inglourious Basterds. I'd better stop or I'll talk myself out of loving this film, because in the final analysis, it's the movie that matters, not the slob who made it.

*** I'll bet you any money the title is mis-spelled like that to differentiate it from the original The Inglorious Bastards (or Quel maledetto treno blindato, roughly a 1978 "Spaghetti-War" film by Enzo G. Castellari starring Bo Svenson, who cameo's in Eli Roth's Nazi film-within-a-film in Tarantino's movie), Fred Williamson, and Ian Bannen, but on a metaphorical level, it shows a total disregard for the rules, which sets up it's "How I'd Win the War" scenario, belying History. Isn't that what most movies "based on a true story" do? Isn't that the job of the fiction writer?

**** There's a nod to one of my favorite shots in Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West where Charles Bronson takes 30 seconds or so to relax a smile from his face in tight close-up. Tarantino doesn't copy it exactly, but there's a nod to it.

***** A late-night thought (one which might piss off folks who take Tarantino SOO seriously, but it feels like a "natural"): Myers and Tarantino both suffer from "lazy-eye writing" where it's thought that if you just recall something from a past movie and reference it that that is all that's sufficient for it to "play"—which is why the Myers' "Austin Powers" series is so weak. Tarantino has had a running feud with EON Productions in "the Press" over whose idea it was to make a film of "Casino Royale" (Answer: original author Ian Fleming)—and a balding Tarantino-like henchman named "Elvis" appeared in the Bond movie, Quantum of Solace—why not put Tarantino at the helm of the next Powers-fest (which has been talked about since...well, since the last one). Tarantino would have a giddy field-day with it, the genre, and the chance to gnaw on the red meat that is the Bond movies. It would easily be the best entry of the series. Only problem: during filming, the set would be like walking into a daily cage-match, where two prima donnas walk in and only one can emerge.

The Man Who Never Was

The Man Who Never Was (Ronald Neame, 1956) I first read the story of the off-beat plan to distract the Nazis from British invasion plans in grade-school with a scholastic printing of Ewen Montagu's fascinating book. I knew there'd been a short-lived TV series with Robert Lansing in the 60's—more live-spy than the actual event—but this had nothing to do with that.  This one was a true story. It started a fascination with the morally ambiguous world of spies (in WWII and beyond) that still fills my trench-coat to this day.

But this story was true; the name of the corpse washed ashore was changed to protect the Allies on the invasion route to Sicily.  

On April 30, 1943, the body of Major William Martin of the Royal Marines was washed ashore on the beach of Huelva, Spain. Chained to the loop of his trench-coat was a briefcase containing personal documents (so they wouldn't be transferred through official channels) that hinted that the invasion, code-named Operation Husky, would land at Greece and Sardinia, and that  deceptive intelligence efforts would be made to convince the Germans that the invasion would take place attacking Sicily.

It was all a hoax.  There was no Major Martin (although his obituary did appear in The London Times), and the body was a plant by British intelligence forces to sway the Germans from the actual Husky invasion of Sicily, a strategic "must" for the invasion of first Italy, and then the Eastern pincer move on Germany. (Winston Churchill once remarked that "Everyone but a bloody fool would know that it's Sicily").  The plan, dubbed "Operation Mincemeat"—in the hope that the Germans would "swallow" it—was concocted by Flight Lt. Charles Cholmondeley* and Lt. Cmdr. Montagu. A corpse (that of a 34 year old Welshman Glyndwr Michael, who had no immediate family) was obtained, an elaborate back-history created, documents forged (including love letters and family correspondence), and dumped by submarine off the Spanish coast.

The Germans bought it...to the point where they still anticipated the attack two weeks after the Allies landed in Sicily. The film of the book by Montagu (played in the film by Clifton Webb) takes a few liberties—it romanticizes some of the incidents (for instance the authorship of the love letters) and creates a follow-up operation that ensures the information is transferred by a German agent (Stephen Boyd, in his film debut) without embellishment to the enemy, but it's an interesting dramatization ("It's the most outrageous, disgusting, preposterous, not to say barbaric idea I've ever heard, but work out full details and get back to me in the morning!") about one of the weirder operations in a war full of them. 

* Cholmondeley got the idea from a multi-schemed memo by one intelligence officer named Ian Fleming (who was inspired by a novel by Basil Thomsen), who in 1953 would create his own intelligence agent, James Bond.

Don't Make a Scene: Moonstruck

The Set-Up:  Romance and comedy—two great things that go great together. When you look at the state of romantic-comedy these days (if that's a concern of yours), things look a little dire. The characters populating them are self-absorbed, young, and neurotic on their own, the vagaries of love notwithstanding. You wonder why anybody would be interested in these people, much less an audience. Romantic comedies used to be about something, or situations that obstructed the path of true love—rather than the people who manage to obstruct it themselves. They were more about these things than they were about romance and/or comedy. Nowadays, you just want to yell at the screen: "Oh, grow up and get together and stop wasting my time."

This is Moonstruck, a product of Pulitzer winning writer John Patrick Shanley* and director Norman Jewison, and it is one of my favorite rom-com's.   Shanley wrote great characters and Jewison, being a man of quite good taste (he knew how to push the subject envelope while continuing to make his movies entertaining), knew when the writer was getting too windy (you can see the deletions from the script crossed out below, mostly because the characters do go on a bit and because Loretta shouldn't need permission from Ronny to leave).

What I love about Moonstruck is that the characters are multi-generational, have been around the block and have enough life-experience that they know themselves...or at least they think they do. Part of the charm of Moonstruck is seeing these people discover new truths...about themselves, about love, and about life.

And I've always loved Ronny's speech here: "We are here to ruin ourselves and break our hearts and love the wrong people and die!"

Yeah. That's about right.

The Story: Loretta Castorini (Cher) is caught between the Moon and New York City.  A widower for years, she's engaged to Johnny Cammareri (Danny Aiello), a nice man, a decent man. Two things have to happen before they get married—Johnny has to ask permission of his mother in Italy, and Loretta must try to coax Johnny's estranged brother Ronny (Nicolas Cage), a baker who lost his hand in an accident and for which Ronny blames Johnny. Then, things get complicated. Loretta and Ronny end up sleeping together. Loretta knows it's wrong and is torn up about it. The tortured Ronny, though, is obsessed, incensed that Loretta would play it safe by marrying his brother. A deal is reached. Loretta will go with Ronny to the opera, and then leave her alone and never bother her again. Sounds neat and tidy. But love is never neat and tidy.

Action!

EXT. A COLD AND EMPTY MANHATTAN STREET - NIGHT

Ronny and Loretta are walking. Their breath is coming out in long plumes.

LORETTA It's really cold.
RONNY Yeah. It smells like snow.
They walk in silence for a moment, then Loretta speaks.
LORETTA My mother guessed that my father was seeing somebody and I told her she was crazy.

LORETTA She looked like a real piece of cheap goods. But who am I to talk?
Her eyes are full of tears.

RONNY What's the matter?
LORETTA How can you ask me that?
RONNY You're making me feel guilty again.
LORETTA You are guilty. I'm guilty.

RONNY Of what? Only God can point the finger, Loretta.

LORETTA Oh, yeah? I know what I know.

RONNY And what do you know?

RONNY You tell me my life? I'll tell you yours. I'm a wolf? You run to the wolf in me, that don't make you no lamb! You're gonna marry my brother?

RONNY Why you wanna sell your life short? Playing it safe is just about the most dangerous thing a woman like you could do. You waited for the right man the first time...

RONNY ...why didn't you wait for the right man again?
LORETTA He didn't come!

RONNY I'm here!

LORETTA Yeah?  Well, You're late!

RONNY We're here.

EXT. RONNY'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT

She looks. It's Ronny's building.

LORETTA This is your place.
RONNY That's right.
LORETTA This is where we're going!

RONNY Yeah.
LORETTA We had a deal!

LORETTA The deal was if I came to the Opera with you you'd leave me alone forever.
She looks for his response. He makes none.
LORETTA I went with you.

(pause, nothing)
LORETTA Now I'm gonna marry Johnny and you're gonna leave me alone.
(pause, nothing)
LORETTA Right?
(nothing)

LORETTA A person can see where they've messed up in their life, and they can change how they do things, and they can change their Luck. Maybe my nature does draw me to you, but I don't haveta go with that. I can take hold of myself and say yes to some things and no to something that's just gonna ruin everything! I can do that.

LORETTA Otherwise, what is this stupid life that God gave us for what?

(pause, nothing)
LORETTA Ronny? Are you listening to me?

RONNY Yeah.
LORETTA I'm really afraid.
RONNY Why?
LORETTA I'm afraid of who I am.
RONNY I was.
LORETTA And you're not now?
He shakes his head.

LORETTA Why not?

RONNY I don't know. Everything seems like nothing now against that I want you...

RONNY ...in my bed. I don't care if I burn in hell.

RONNY I don't care if you burn in hell. The Past and Future...

RONNY ...is a joke to me now. I see that they're nothing, I see they ain't here. The only thing that's here...

RONNY ...is you. And me. I want you to come upstairs. Now. I tried to take everything last night, like you told me, but I couldn't. I couldn't take everything in a hundred years. It's the way we are. We compound each other.

LORETTA Let me go home.  I'm going home.
RONNY No.

LORETTA Let me go home. I'm going home!
RONNY No.

LORETTA I'm freezing to death.
RONNY Come upstairs.

RONNY I don't care why you come. No, that's not what I mean. Loretta, I love you. Not like they told you love is...

RONNY ...and I didn't know this either. But love don't make things nice...

RONNY ...it ruins everything, it breaks your heart...

RONNY ...it makes things a mess. We're not here to make things perfect. Snowflakes are perfect.

RONNY The stars are perfect.

RONNY Not us. Not us.

RONNY We are here to ruin ourselves and break our hearts...

RONNY ...and love the wrong people and die!

RONNY The storybooks are bullshit. Come upstairs with me, baby! Don't try to live your life out to somebody else's idea of sweet happiness. Don't try to live on milk and cookies when what you want is meat! Red meat just like me! It's wolves run with wolves and nothing else! You're a wolf just like me!

RONNY Come upstairs with me...

RONNY ...and get in my bed!

RONNY Come on!

RONNY Come on!

RONNY Come on!

Loretta follows Ronny into his building.

Moonstruck

Words by John Patrick Shanley

Pictures by David Watkin and Norman Jewison

Moonstruck is available on DVD from M-G-M Home Video.