The National Film Registry: 2024

The Class of 2024: Making the Ordinary Extraordinary
 

Every year, the Library of Congress chooses 25 films to be put in the National Film Registry, ensuring that they will be preserved from the affects of studio neglect and the ravages of time. Or even the wrath of Khan. They have been chosen (in the so-often used phrase) for their significance “culturally, historically or aesthetically”

 

And (apparently) to preserve and protect the entire filmography of Edward James Olmos.* No complaint here; Olmos is a terrific actor and he has extraordinary taste in the projects he becomes associated with (he's associated with two of this year's inductees). One could do a lot worse tracking down and watching his output. He constantly surprises me at how chameleon-like he can be and how subtle.

 

Which is one of the reasons I do a post every year about this accumulation of American film-history. It takes me out of my comfort zone of movie-watching and steers me towards films that my casual film diet wouldn't guide me. Every year, I'll find a new movie that challenges me or intrigues me...or will me make wonder "why is THIS on the list?" 

 

This year was no exception.

 

The Notes from the Film Registry provided in their press-kit are in White Arial type. My notes (where applicable) are in my regular dull-gray Verdana font.

 

 

American Me (Edward James Olmos, 1992) In his film directorial debut, Edward James Olmos does not hold back in portraying the dark, brutal realities of Chicano gang life in Los Angeles. The film follows the fictional rise of a Mexican Mafia leader (played by Olmos), and the harsh life in and out of prison. Based loosely on a true story, the film’s depiction of violence and abuse can sometimes be hard to watch, but it brings to reality who controls the drug traffic in prison and on the streets. In an interview with the Library of Congress, Olmos said, “I went for stories that weren’t going to be told by anybody else. Originally, no one wanted to do ‘American Me,’ but I knew it had to be told.”

 

A tough script by Floyd Mutrux isn't glossed over by Olmos who not only directs but stars (with more than a little of Bogart's mojo) as Montoya Santana, who graduated from juvie to leading a Latin gang in Folsom Prison with an iron fist. But, once he gets out of prison, the prison-rules can know no longer be applied and his eye-for-an-eye approach ends up starting a drug war specifically targeting the Latin community. Where "The Godfather" films feature a crime scenario where being the strongest and most dispassionate goes largely unpunished, Mutrux and Olmos are remorselessly taking the other tack—that such tactics end up destroying from within. There are no heroes in the story, only victims. And although the film gets a bit heavy-handed at times—a love scene is intercut with a prison assault—it clearly has a moral compass. It's just that we never see it. Olmos is, throughout, supremely charismatic, but also surprises: there's a scene where a newly-sprung Santana dances for the first time where his tough guy very subtly turns sheepish, but never mawkish. And he never crumbles from his resoluteness even when he knows to be resolute means suspicion and no possible future. Ultimately, it's a statement for heritage but not tribalism, pride but not prejudice. The filmmakers don't see a future in American Me. Only a slowly accelerating downward spiral.

 

Angels With Dirty Faces (Michael Curtiz, 1938) The one-two punch of James Cagney (Rocky Sullivan), Humphrey Bogart (James Frazier) and director Michael Curtiz makes this Depression-era crime drama one that reinforces the idea that America was made in the streets of immigrant, segregated, hardscrabble neighborhoods. Released in the early years of the Production Code, “Angels” found a way to redeem its gangster characters and play by the rules that required a redemptive theme. Swaggering ex-con Sullivan’s conscience manifests in the form of his childhood friend turned cleric Father Jerry Connolly (Pat O’Brien) who does his best to keep the wise guys in line and set another example for the lovable, mischievous Dead End Kids.

 

Angels with Dirty Faces is pretty much the American Me of the Code-enforcing late 30's. It's basically the same story-line with booze replacing heroin and a script that offers religion as an answer to moral corruption. That's the theory, anyway.

 

 "Wattaya know, whattaya say?" as they say in the lingo on 1930's New York street toughs. If Warner Brother gangster movies all seem to run together for you, this is the one where Cagney goes to "the chair" like a "yella rat". Cagney was never less than charismatic in any movie role and none more so than here as a kid from the borogh who gets sent to juvie and ends up a career criminal. And all because he "couldn't run faster than me," "me" being Father Connelly (O'Brien), who ran with Cagney's "Rocky" as a kid, but grew up straight. Cagney gets out of prison and maintains his criminal ways with the help of a sheister lawyer (Bogart, still in the weaselly phase of his film career), but keeps things on a friendly "need-to-know" basis with his childhood friend. But, Rocky, even with the best intentions, ends up influencing the next generation of street urchins ("The Dead End Kids") that Connolly is trying to help. Everybody's good in this, but mention needs to be made of Frankie Burke, who gives a downright perfect imitation of Cagney, playing Rocky as a boy.

 

This is director Michael Curtiz's fifth film in the National Film Registry.

I guess the Hays Code didn't like killings done in a direct line of fire.

 

Annabelle Serpentine Dance aka Serpentine Dance - Annabelle (William K.L. Dickson, William Heise, 1895) The 1890s marked the dawn of cinema, with films from this decade serving as initial experiments to define the “language of movies.” Early works often were actualities depicting people, places and things: narrative cinema did not become prevalent for another decade. “Serpentine Dance” constitutes an excellent example of what the industry created to entice and enchant audiences. This Edison Manufacturing Company silent short is one of a series of recordings of the popular dances performed by Annabelle Moore. In another attempt to lure cinema-goers, many prints featured hand-tinted color.

 

 

 

Beverly Hills Cop (Martin Brest, 1984)The taglines “The Heat is On!” and “In Detroit a cop learns to take the heat. In L.A. he learns to keep his cool” sizzle through the screen with comedian turned box-office superstar Eddie Murphy (Axel Foley) as a Detroit cop navigating some unfamiliar terrain when he heads West to find his childhood friend’s killer in the posh streets of the 90210.  This film is the first in a four-film franchise. The film’s legendary electronic instrumental theme song “Axel F.” by Harold Faltermeyer sets the tone and pace for a film that keeps viewers laughing — and rooting for Axel Foley to get his man.  

 

Eddie Murphy was at the height of his powers (at the tender age of 23) in Hollywood. Daniel Petrie Jr. had written a script (Martin Scorsese turned down directing it because it was basically Coogan's Bluff) and Martin Brest was hired to direct. But casting was in flux with names like Harrison Ford, Al Pacino, James Caan and Richard Pryor for the lead of the fish-out-of-water Detroit cop freelancing a murder investigation in L.A. until it settled on Sylvester Stallone, who re-wrote the script "taking the humor out of it," making it a straight-up action flick. Two weeks before filming began, Stallone was out, the script reverted and Eddie Murphy was hired...and basically started to revamp the script whole-cloth. There's a lot of improvisation—Bronson Pinchot's part is basically ad-libbed—but it worked gang-busters and producer Don Simpson gussied it up with a song-filled soundtrack (the way he had for Top Gun and Flashdance) creating the Number 1 box-office earner for 1984. And no was reminded of Coogan's Bluff. One can Monday-morning quarterback about the film all you want, but the key ingredient is Murphy, who re-energized a stale idea for a film and kicked it into crowd-pleasing high-gear.

 

The Chelsea Girls (Paul Morissey, Andy Warhol, 1966)  Directed by Andy Warhol and Paul Morrissey and described as “a double-projection experimental soap opera,” “Chelsea Girls” encapsulates everything that makes a Warhol a “Warhol” — playing with form and content, assembling complete reels of unedited film in various ways. The reels are projected side by side, accompanied by alternating soundtracks, thus lending itself to almost infinite audience interpretations. The over three-hour film chronicles characters both real and imagined that could have been hanging out at New York City’s Chelsea Hotel. It includes such Warhol “superstars” and friends as Nico, Ondine, Ingrid Superstar, Brigid Polk, Ed Hood, Patrick Flemming, Mary Woronov, International Velvet, Mario Montez, Marie Menken, Gerard Malanga, Eric Emerson, and more. It is a time capsule of a downtown New York art scene that is long gone but not forgotten. Preserved by the Museum of Modern Art: 16mm reversal camera original copied photochemically in 1989.

 

A version of The Chelsea Girls, anyway, as the film was designed to have projectionists choose what reels to show in order and which soundtracks to use. Now that the film is locked into digital format it renders the original intention...rather moot. And hoo-boy. It's still random. Very random. Imagine watching a reality show where the worst parts or even the technical flubs weren't edited out or any sort of decision made as far as content. One section appears to be testing the panning mechanism of the tripod. Another experiments with gels and lighting filters. But, I watched it. Watched the whole thing. MVP of the film: Mary Woronov, who has the most repeated line in the movie—"Shut UP!" The Chelsea Girls is supposedly the least available of all the Warhol projects, but I found it on YouTube. This will make it very convenient to be used at Guantanamo.

Common Threads: Stories From the Quilt (Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman, 1989)  Directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, “Common Threads” stands both as a heart-breaking record of the nation’s greatest catastrophe of the 1980s and an extraordinary monument to the power of grief and activism to effect change. Winner of the Academy Award for Documentary Feature, the film chronicles the creation and exhibition of the NAMES Project Aids Memorial Quilt. To Illustrate the tragic magnitude of losses, “Common Threads” includes profiles and personal stories of those memorialized, examines the broad swaths of society impacted by HIV/AIDS, as well as efforts to combat those who deepened the crisis through fear, misinformation and prejudice. Preserved by the Academy Film Archive, Milestone Film & Video and Outfest UCLA Legacy Project, a partnership between Outfest and UCLA Film & Television Archive. 

 

The NAMES Project put physical presence to the names of people dead of AIDS, but HBO's Common Threads put some stories behind those quilt panels in a sensitive documentary form with testimony from survivors. Part grief testimony, part confessional, part celebration, the stories are diverse, clear-eyed and sad, with minimal statistical narration by Dustin Hoffman, and a lovely score written by Bobby McFerrin.

 

 

Compensation (Zeinabu irene Davis, 1999)  Director Zeinabu irene Davis’ first feature depicts two Chicago love stories, one set at the dawn of the 20th century and the other in contemporary times, featuring a deaf woman and a hearing man. Played by the same actors (Michelle A. Banks and John Earl Jelks), both couples face the specter of death when the man is diagnosed with tuberculosis in the early story, and the woman with AIDS in the contemporary one. “Inspired by a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar (who died of tuberculosis in 1906, at the age of 33), “Compensation” takes an unusual narrative approach. Upon casting deaf actress Banks, Davis and screenwriter Mark Arthur Chéry modified the film to incorporate American Sign Language and title cards, making it accessible to both deaf and hearing audiences,” wrote film historian Jacqueline Stewart, chairwoman of the National Film Preservation Board. Guided and approved by director Zeinabu irene Davis, this 4K digital restoration was undertaken by the Criterion Collection, the UCLA Film and Television Archive, and Wimmin With a Mission Productions in conjunction with The Sundance Institute from a scan of the 16mm original camera negative. 

 

Ingenious feature telling two stories  set one hundred years apart of two ill-fated romances between a deaf woman (Michelle A. Banks playing both parts) and a hearing man (John Earl Jelks) is played out with silent movie strategies (interstitials, closed captioning) but with sound making the film universally acceptable with both ASL and dialogue. Plus, the use of carefully curated period photographs immerses you in 1900 life, enriching the overall experience. It's an amateur production, but with extraordinary performances and a sophisticated cross-cutting scheme between the two time periods. Dense with detail and with a lovely score.

 

 

Dirty Dancing (Emile Ardolino, Kenny Ortega, 1987)  “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” and if you were a child of the 1980s, this is one PG-13 musical you begged your parents to watch, despite the tough topics the film tackles: pregnancy out of wedlock, abortion, classism and anti-Semitism. Patrick Swayze (Johnny Castle) and Jennifer Grey (Frances House) sizzle on screen as the unlikely leading lovers. Though set in the Catskills resorts of the 1960s, more than a bit of a 1980s ethos finds its way into the film, updating “West Side Story’s themes of young love breaking down societal barriers through music and dance. Teen musical genre films of the 1980s like “Footloose” and “Dirty Dancing” remain influential and imitated to this day, but there is no parallel to Baby and Johnny on the dance floor.

 

Yer damn right nobody puts Baby in a corner (but apparently you can leave her alone on stage while you do your dance-solo). I mock, but there's a lot to like about Dirty Dancing—the period references although the clothes and hairstyles might be a bit of a loose interpretation. The "let's face the music and dance" underpinnings. And the performances of Grey and Swayze. Taking place in a Catskills resort in 1963, the story of Frances "Baby" Houseman (not "House" as the LOC blurb says) and the "Time of Her Life" before going off to a life of service and the Peace Corps and mixing with the staff and their issues rather than being catered to is ultimately a celebratory "feel-good" movie even if you have to go through a lot of tsuris to get there. Wikipedia's entry for it recalls that "a May 2007 survey by Britain's Sky Movies listed Dirty Dancing as number one on "Women's most-watched films", above the Star Wars trilogy, Grease, The Sound of Music, and Pretty Woman." And goes on to call it "Star Wars for girls." But one wonders if "Baby" ever DID join the Peace Corps.

 

 

Ganja and Hess (Bill Gunn, 1973)  Bill Gunn ranks high on any list of filmmakers deserving far more recognition. In The New Yorker, film critic Richard Brody described Gunn as being "a visionary filmmaker left on the sidelines of the most ostensibly liberated period of American filmmaking." Playwright, novelist, actor and director Gunn’s cult-horror fever dream classic “Ganja and Hess” proved a sensation at Cannes in 1973. Fifty years on, this film addresses complexities of addiction, sexuality and Black identity that remain prescient. Preserved by the Museum of Modern Art: Two 35mm composite prints of the original release, combined and copied photochemically in 2003.

 

The producers wanted a horror film, preferably with black vampires, but playwright Bill Gunn, given $35k to make the thing, decided he wanted to go another route. His story, about a prominent black anthropologist, Dr. Hess Green (Duane Jones of The Night of the Living Dead) is stabbed with a ceremonial dagger of the blood-drinking Myrthian tribe only to survive and become an immortal vampire. The widow (Marlene Clark) of his attacker comes looking for her husband and begins an unholy alliance with him, luring strangers and killing them for their blood. Both trippy and metaphorical, Gunn uses religious dogma as part of the storyline and the black evangelical church plays a prominent role in dealing with dispatching the curse. Spike Lee remade it in 2014 as Da Sweet Blood of Jesus.

 

Invaders from Mars (William Cameron Menzies, 1953) The 1950s arguably produced the most classic science fiction films, fed by post-World War II paranoia over the hydrogen bomb, rapid technological change, fear of Soviet expansion and Communist infiltration of American society. Directed by William Cameron Menzies with cinematography by John Seitz, the film features stunning sets and photography in Supercinecolor. This indie classic helped create the visual language of science fiction cinema and was a significant entry in the canon of ‘post-war paranoia’ cinema. Projects ranging from “Star Trek” to “The Iron Giant” to “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” bear the thematic fingerprint of this film. Restored by Ignite Films in collaboration with the George Eastman Museum, National Film and Sound Archive of Australia and the UCLA Film & Television Archive.

 

One finishes a viewing of Invasion From Mars and can understand, from such evidence, why the post-war era of science-fiction film-making could be harrumphed as "puerile" and the genre dismissed. But, then the nightmares come. From its paranoiac child's-point-of-view, rudimentary sets, goofy concepts and costuming (especially of what the actors call "Myu-TANTS" which look like bepedal stalks of asparagus), Invaders From Mars is just two robotically campy steps from Plan 9 From Outer Space. And its shoe-string budget is evident from the lack of sets (despite being directed by one of Hollywood's great art directors!) to the point where they reuse the same shot of "asparaguys" running through a cave corridor some 30 times! But, it's creepy. Damned creepy, with alien-possessed parents you can't trust, authority figures you can't count on, and the feeling of helplessness that you can't fend off certain disaster. And paved the way for the "why-don't they-believe-me" school of science-fiction films. Oh. And the McCarthy era. Even as silly and cheesy as it is, it still gives serious creeps.

Little Kathy Wilson watches her parents' house burn down.

 

KoKo's Earth Control (Dave Fleischer, 1928)  Imaginative, sassy, surreal and non-linear characterize films from the Fleischer Studios, which battled the Walt Disney Co. for animation supremacy during the 1920s and 1930s, with their competing styles delighting audiences and leading to many technical advancements. Among the contributions from Max and Dave Fleischer were rotoscoping and legendary characters such as Betty Boop, Popeye and KoKo the Clown. In this film, KoKo and Fitz the Dog gain power over the levers controlling Earth, to disastrous results. “KoKo’s Earth Control” has been photochemically restored by the UCLA Film & Television Archive from the original nitrate negative with main titles restored and a missing section enlarged from a supplemental 16mm source. Restoration funding provided by Jerry Beck, Will Ryan and the International Animated Film Society, ASIFA-Hollywood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mi Familia aka My Family (Gregory Nava, 1995)  During the nation’s nearly 250-year history, immigration has fueled the continuing vibrancy of our culture, commerce and creativity. The key demographic change over the past 75 years has been Latino immigration. In “My Family”/”Mi Familia,” director Gregory Nava creates an emotional and evocative story of multi-generational Mexican-American family life, narrated by a second-generation immigrant. “Their story is told in images of startling beauty and great overflowing energy; it is rare to hear so much laughter from an audience that is also sometimes moved to tears… This is the great American story, told again and again, of how our families came to this land and tried to make it better for their children,” wrote Roger Ebert.

 

Francis Ford Coppola executive-produced this and one can see why—writer-director Nava puts in the fine details of family story-telling and myth-making the way Coppola did with the Corleones. The film weaves through three generations of the Sanchez family, starting in the 1930's when young Jose (Jacob Vargas) leaves Mexico for California and begins a long-established home in East L.A. Major segments include his new wife's deportation to Mexico and her journey back (featuring Jennifer Lopez in an early role), the marriage of their daughter Irene (Maria Canals-Barrera), the turbulent life and death of son Chucho (Esai Morales) and the subsequent effects it has on youngest son Jimmy (Jimmy Smits). Due to the time-sweep of the story, sometimes three actors play the same role and the film plays out as a saga of making do and overcoming self-contained prejudices, all the while narrated by another son, Paco (the ubiquitous Edward James Olmos). The L.A. River plays a prominent role and all of those shots were filmed by filmmaker Carroll Ballard.

 

The Miracle Worker (Arthur Penn, 1962)  This celebrated early work from director Arthur Penn tells the incredible true-life story of Helen Keller and her determined teacher Anne Sullivan, chronicled in remarkable performances by Anne Bancroft and a young Patty Duke. “The Miracle Worker” is anchored by the extraordinary scene where Sullivan tries to teach Keller table manners. Told in stark black and white, and almost completely devoid of sentiment, the spareness of its production allows the power of its story and performances to stand out as an inspiring account of human potential and ability realized.

 

"The Miracle Worker" began as a production of television's "Playhouse 90" where the approximately 90 minute presentation starred Teresa Wright and Patty McCormack as Anne Sullivan and her student, Helen Keller. It was written by William Gibson (he wrote the book "The Cobweb", the one the movie's based on) and directed by Arthur Penn. Those two then worked on a Broadway production of Gibson's play "Two for the Seesaw" which starred Henry Fonda and a new up-and-comer named Anne Bancroft (Robert Wise directed the movie with Robert Mitchum and Shirley Maclaine).

 

Gibson and Penn, decided that, after working with Bancroft on "Seesaw", that they should expand the writer's teleplay and take it to Broadway where it was a great success, opening on October 19, 1959 and running for 719 performances with Bancroft as Sullivan and its new star Patty Duke, as Keller. It won Tony Awards for Bancroft, Gibson, Penn and "Best Stage Technician." A movie version was inevitable.

It was only Penn's second film (the first being The Left-Handed Gun starring Paul Newman), in stark black-and-white, and you can feel Penn wanting to stretch it out a bit with surrealistic flashbacks of Anne Sullivan's memories of incarceration in an asylum. They're distractions when the core of the story is Sullivan's great pains at teaching her young student basic manners and to make that mental leap between sign language and real-world experiences. It culminates in the "water-pump" scene, which never fails to move one's heart, even after the hysterics of previous scenes. Bancroft and Duke go-for-broke in their work with Duke giving such a feral performance that it cast a stigma for the deafblind (there was even a TikTok "discussion" that Keller never existed, proving once again how "useful" a tool TikTok is). Both Bancroft and Duke won Oscars for their performances.

 

But, if one thing moving it to the Film Registry might do, it's to get it in the hands of the Film Preservation Board because the film needs to have work done on its soundtrack. The microphone work on the dialogue is pretty muddy and has been EQ'd to a crispness that is painful. Plus, given the histrionics of the performances—especially Victor Jory's bellicose Captain Keller—some of Bancroft's dynamic dialogue gets lost especially in her quieter arguments. Fix this.

 

My Own Private Idaho (Gus Van Sant, 1991) Gus Van Sant’s magnificently original cult classic “My Own Private Idaho” is a wildly re-envisioned retelling of Shakespeare’s “Henry IV.” River Phoenix, in an iconic performance of poignant vulnerability, and Keanu Reeves play Northwest street hustlers  — one (Phoenix) doing it to survive, the other (Reeves) to humiliate his politician father  — who embark on a multi-state and then international search for Phoenix wayward mother but also for meaning and identity. The journey, as created by director Van Sant, is a haunted and emotionally-fraught one, depicted with equal measures of dream-like vision and hardcore reality.  

 

Van Sant is a creative filmmaker, but this is him at his most obtuse. An odyssey about street hustlers, it's at its most inspired when cadging from Shakespeare and Orson Welles' version of Shakespeare, and at its most problematic when focusing on the issues of narcoleptic street kid Mike Waters (River Phoenix) and especially in the flailing way that Phoenix plays it. Keanu Reeves does well by his performance as the rebelling son of a Mayor, but then when he becomes king (sorry) gets his trust funds, his acting just goes away and becomes a frozen mask. It's mostly set-pieces from different stories smacked together with "betrayal" being the central theme, and some interesting time-lapse photography indicating Phoenix's "fugue" state.

 

 

No Country for Old Men (The Coen Brothers, 2007) From the fecund mind of the Coen Brothers, this modern-day Western (c. 1980) was hailed as a classic nearly from the moment of its independent release. Based on Cormac McCarthy’s vivid novel, the film won the Oscar for Best Picture that year. Along with a fine script (also by the Coens) and some taut direction, the film is benefited to an incalculable degree with its trio of lead actors. Josh Brolin is down on his luck and just scrapping by when a fortune in drug money falls in his lap. Javier Bardem is the sociopath who wants to take him down and get the money back, and Tommy Lee Jones is the Texas sheriff who finds himself pulled into the violent scenario. 

 

Nice word, "fecund." Sort of $10 word for fertile.

 

Three men are locked in a struggle: Llewelynn Moss (Josh Brolin) stumbles upon a drug deal gone wrong in the desert and makes off with $2.4 million in cash; hitman Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) has been hired to find that money and is well-equipped to kill the person who possesses it; bounty hunter Carson Wells (Woody Harrelson) is trying to find the money for his employer (who also hired Chigurh) and is going to bring in the man who has it. A day late and a couple corpses behind is Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) is investigating the drug-deal and pondering whether he's cut out for the job when such carnage is going on in his county. 

 

Everybody's good in it—startlingly good—but it's Tommy Lee Jones' movie even if Bardem's Oscar-winning turn as the idiosyncratic psychopath is the flashier part. It's another of the Coens' "incredible mess" movies where Fate is an unseen character allowing things to go wrong and the suspense is in how and when principles will collide with the amoral. But, there's an uncomfortable complacency in the fact that all this murder and mayhem goes on and "the law" can't even scratch the surface of it.

 

 

Powwow Highway (Jonathan Wacks, 1989)  Along with women and other people of color, Native Americans were treated with indifference or worse by Hollywood for many decades: they were given few opportunities to direct, and even films with Native American plotlines tended to perpetuate stereotypes. The indie classic “Powwow Highway” became one of the first to treat Native Americans as ordinary people navigating the complexities of everyday life. In part a witty buddy road movie, critics noted that “Powwow Highway” also contains reflections on the relationship of Native Americans to land and their search for a spiritual core to maintain their Native American heritage in American society. Based on the novel of the same name by David Seals, the film features Gary Farmer and A Martinez. 

 

Produced by George Harrison's Handmade Films from David Seals' novel, PowWow Highway is a road-trip/buddy movie of two childhood friends Buddy Red Bow (A Martinez), the radical Agricultural Purchasing Agent for the Northern Cheyenne Tribal Office and the blissful Philbert Bono (Gary Farmer) who sees himself as being on a warrior's quest—he just doesn't know what it is. The opportunity comes when Buddy's sister (Joanelle Romero) is arrested on trumped-up drug charges and the two Mutt-and-Jeff friends must make a trip from Lame Deer, Montana to Santa Fe, New Mexico to bail her out. With Philbert at the wheel, the journey takes a roundabout route. It's an enjoyable journey with two polar opposites with two different journeys in mind, and Farmer is an absolute delight. Early parts by Wes Studi and Graham Greene.

 

The Pride of the Yankees (Sam Wood, 1942)  One of the seminal sports films that has inspired audiences for decades, “The Pride of the Yankees” stars Gary Cooper, Teresa Wright and Walter Brennan. The film shines as a memorable Hollywood tribute to the New York Yankees iron man first baseman Lou Gehrig, who had recently died from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS aka Lou Gehrig’s disease). Several former Yankee teammates such as Babe Ruth appear in the film, thus adding to its authenticity and poignance. This beloved classic culminates with Cooper’s re-enactment of Gehrig's famous 1939 farewell speech at Yankee Stadium and its iconic, heart-wrenching coda: “Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

 

With a script by Paul Gallico, re-written by Jo Swerling and Herman J. Mankiewicz, production design by William Cameron Menzies...and even a prologue supposedly penned by Damon Runyon...Sam Wood's film of Lou Gehrig's story displays a lot of talent. Producer Samuel Goldwyn didn't know from baseball and didn't want to do it, until Wood showed him newsreel footage of Gehrig's 1937 farewell speech and Goldwyn was moved to tears and signing a deal.  A lot of stars, both of the Hollywood and baseball variety, are in this (Dan Duryea plays an early role), but the rock-solid combination of Teresa Wright and Gary Cooper maintain audience identification in good times and bad. Cooper, in dramatic films, was the epitome of stoicism, and never more so than here. Geez, Babe Ruth is even in it.

 

 

The Social Network (David Fincher, 2010) A movie based on Ben Mezrich’s book “The Accidental Billionaires” exploring creation of the social media giant Facebook would at first glance seem more the subject of a documentary film, far too dry, geeky, highbrow and slow-paced for a commercial, Hollywood production. Instead, thanks to a dazzling cast of young actors, Aaron Sorkin’s trademark rapid-fire dialogue and director David Fincher’s skill in pacing and scene creation, “The Social Network” becomes a riveting examination of modern-day American business and capitalism. The film offers both a critical look at the personal and ethical challenges faced by the key players, and a compelling reflection on broader issues related to technology, entrepreneurship, the limitations of genius, and the dangers of society becoming isolated, addicted and the slave to technology and the wonders it offers.

 

What should have been the most boring movie about rich kids with millions crackles, thanks to Fincher's direction of a dense and entertaining Aaron Sorkin script. Add to that a cast at the top of their game (with a searing performance by Jesse Eisenberg) all of whom seem to enjoy playing villains. Watching elites eat each other should not be this entertaining, but The Social Network works like a very tightly-wound Swiss watch that never really lets up until the last couple of minutes, with a damning little coda that should have served as a cautionary tale to anyone who's spent too much time of their computer...or their phone.

 

Once and again, it should be recalled that "Facebook" began as a web-site for rating women. It really hasn't gotten more sophisticated than that.

 

 

 

Spy Kids (Robert Rodriguez, 2001)  In “Spy Kids,” (the first film in a highly successful media franchise) Robert Rodriguez weaves Hispanic culture in the film by incorporating cultural elements and values that make the characters feel both distinct and universally relatable. The emphasis on family as their top priority and driving motivation throughout the films underscores the importance of familial bonds and cultural heritage, adding depth and authenticity to the story. This delightful spy fantasy film where children discover their parents’ day jobs are not dull and boring is a wonderful blend of films such as “The Incredibles,” James Bond films, and “True Lies.”

 

When I think of Robert Rodriguez, I don't think of his more popular (and sometimes pretentious) action films, I think of this one—an ingenious, peripatetic, green-screened childish extravaganza that doesn't take itself too seriously, but drives home the values of family in a way that makes you smile and laugh at the way he pulls it off.

 

Carmen (Alexa PenaVega) and Juni (Daryl Sabara) Cortez are the children of OSS spies (Antonio Banderas and Carla Gugino) who find they have to cope when Mom and Dad get captured by a tech-genius/kid's show host (Alan Cumming) and it's up to the kids to rescue them...with the help of a couple of Uncles (Cheech Marin and Danny Trejo) and the immeasurable help of Rodriguez who seemed like he did every job except sweep up at night.

 

It's basically what you got if you set James Bond off to fight Willy Wonka within the design sense of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, the ideas are that wacky. And if your kids care, there are plenty of cameos and surprise appearances. But, it's one of those rare films designed for the kid-market that parents might actually get a kick out of.

 

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (Nicholas Meyer, 1982) Often considered the best of the six original-cast Star Trek theatrical films, “The Wrath of Khan” features Nicholas Meyer’s expert direction and James Horner’s stirring score to enhance the always intriguing “Star Trek” scripts, which echo the vision of Gene Roddenberry. “Wrath” reprises an old nemesis from the 1967 TV episode “Space Seed,” with Kirk (William Shatner) and Spock (Leonard Nimoy) battling the volatile and ruthless Khan (Ricardo Montalban). In part an interstellar game of starship cat-and-mouse, and a testosterone-filled alpha mano a mano battle between Kirk and Khan, the film achieves true resonance when exploring larger social and personal themes, in this case Spock’s personal sacrifice to save the Enterprise: “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…..or the one.”

 

"Jim! Have you ever seen the like?" No, I never thought I'd see the day when one of the "Star Trek" films would make the National Film Registry. But, if there was going to be one...just one...this is the one I'd choose. Made for a fraction of the budget of its predecessor, Star Trek II took the whole "Star Trek Movie" concept back to the studs. New Producer Harve Bennett decided to revive an old protagonist (the superb Ricardo Montalban) from the original series, convinced reluctant Mr. Spock" actor  Leonard Nimoy to come back with the promise of "a great death scene" and hired novelist and flegdling director Nicholas Meyer (who had never seen a single episode of "Star Trek") to direct. Meyer took the three scripts he had and created a new movie out of the best parts (without screenwriting credit) and proceeded to make a rollicking, humorous, and even thrilling adventure story out of it. There would be no further "Star Trek" movies without this one and it succeeded well beyond expectations.

And it has some terrific acting AND over-acting By William Shatner, who leans into the material to the point of tipping over. Bless them, the LOC provided this particular clip (well, for some reason, their clip causes an error, so I've replaced it with one that does):

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1974)  Graphic, lurid and completely unapologetic in its brutality, “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” has since its debut in drive-ins and grindhouse theaters, become a cultural, generational and filmmaking touchstone. Filmed for a pittance and supposedly as difficult of a production as a film can be (beset with record heat and filthy locations), “Texas” would establish many of the tenets of what would become the gore/slasher/splatter genre, including the long-lasting “final girl” trope. Condemned by many at the time of its release for what was seen as its gratuitousness, the film was nevertheless embraced by young movie audiences for both its jump-out-of-your seat-scares (great use of isolation and darkness) and it elements of (very) dark humor.  

 

Excuse me, but, technically, it's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (ahem!)

Filmmaker Tobe Hooper was hoping he'd get a PG rating for this, but after an initial "X" rating, it was re-tagged with an "R" but it was still banned in some places and generally condemned for its violence. The violence isn't that gory—there have been far more graphic films—but the idea of it and the suspense that Hooper manages to strangle out of the material is the key to its success. It's been dulled somewhat by parodies and even commercials mocking its tropes, but it still manages to dredge up some dread and tickle the primitive part of the brain that manages "fight or flight". Quentin Tarantino has called it "one of the few perfect movies ever made." And director Guillermo del Toro became a vegetarian for a few weeks after seeing it. Now, it's “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant.

 

Up in Smoke (Lou Adler, Tommy Chong, 1978) The 1970s produced a golden run of films now considered essential works of art (“The Godfather,” “Jaws,” “Chinatown,” “Taxi Driver,” and many more.) Then there were films like the wildly popular “Up in Smoke,” an unexpected smash hit that arguably established the “stoner” genre of film. Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong reworked many of their comic routines to infuse this audience pleaser with goofy, stupid, “check your brain at the door” fun. Some commentators expressed outrage at the counter-culture antics of Cheech and Chong filling theaters, but their complaints had zero impact. The success of “Up in Smoke” paved the way for subsequent memorable movie characters like Jeff Spicoli and The Dude.    

 

This "joint effort" (sorry) by the hit-comedy-record producing team of Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong and Lou Adler (he also produced the first film in this list, American Me and an earlier inductee The Rocky Horror Picture Show), this was a chance to parlay the record-vinyl sales to the movie box-office. A hit with audiences (especially the stoner crowd) but not with critics, Up in Smoke IS fitfully funny—although the "munchie" jokes wear a little thin and the film is waaaaay too active to be about dope-smokers. In fact, it's a bit quaint now in its attitudes and the film peters out down to the seeds in an extended rock-concert sequence that just goes on forever..... But, the smuggling van made completely out of weed? That's funny. Chong and Cheech are natural comedians and there are slim little cameos by Tom Skerritt, Edie Adams, and Strother Martin and an extended part for Stacy Keach playing one of the duo's characters, police Sgt. Stedenko.

 

Uptown Saturday Night (Sidney Poitier, 1974)  The era of enormously popular Black-cast films, often referred to as “Blaxploitation,” began in the early 1970s with massive hits such as “Shaft.” Though these films opened long-closed doors for Black directors, writers and actors, some in the African American community felt they also fostered negative images. To dispel stereotypes and put his own stamp on the era, Sidney Poitier directed “Uptown Saturday Night,” a fun, entertaining, go-for-broke crime comedy about two blue-collar workers trying to recover a stolen wallet containing a winning lottery ticket. The film stars Poitier, Bill Cosby and Harry Belafonte and has a remarkable supporting cast including Calvin Lockhart, Flip Wilson, Richard Pryor, Paula Kelly, Roscoe Lee Browne, Don Marshall, Rosalind Cash, Paul Harris and Harold Nicholas. 

 

Poitier and Cosby play two middle-class guys who conspire to go to a fancy nightclub behind their wives' backs and get robbed in the process. Bad timing as his wallet contains a lottery ticket worth $50,000, so they conspire to get to the thieves by pitting two gangsters against each other. It's a "blaxploitation" comedy, although it's only fitfully funny, but it does give Poitier (who directed) a chance to loosen up from his "icon" roles in the 1960's. And Harry Belafonte does a nice little send-up of a "Godfather" type. Like Up in Smoke, no one could see this as a revolutionary example of film-art (Poitier had done enough of that for a career) but a niche film where the participants could relax and glide on a production where they could have a good time, which would please audiences...not unlike a "Rat-Pack" movie. Poitier ended up making two unofficial sequels.

 

Every year, there has to be at least one film that is so out of the mainstream that they're just not able to be tracked down and viewed. There were two this year for me, both alphabetically at the bottom of the list. When I come across them, I'll update this.

Will (Jessie Maple, 1981)  In this remarkable-but-unknown micro-budget indie feature, a former basketball player struggles to overcome addiction, hoping for recovery and a second chance so he can mentor youth. “Will” is widely considered the first independent feature-length film directed by a Black woman (Jessie Maple). Maple had a trailblazing career as a cinematographer and director in the film industry. “Will” stars Obaka Adedunyo and Loretta Devine, contains some graphic depictions of addiction but also a message of hope and resilience. Scenes filmed in early 1980s Harlem depicting its spaces and vibrant street life add to the film’s importance as an invaluable cultural record. Preserved from material in the Jessie Maple Patton collection at the Black Film Center & Archive at Indiana University. A 4k digital restoration was done by the Black Film Center & Archive with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History & Culture and the Center for African American Media Arts.

 

 

Zora Lathan Student Films (Zora Lathan, 1975-1976) Six short 16mm films created by Adaora “Zora” Lathan during her time as a film student at the University of Illinois, Chicago, make up this selection. While Lathan’s films focus on her family members and domestic spaces, she does not categorize them as home movies. Instead, Lathan describes them as artworks designed to “showcase filmmaking techniques available in the mid-1970s” and reflect the “problem-solving” approach emphasized by UIC’s design program. Lathan sought to create visually compelling short films featuring intimate vignettes about the whimsy, experiments and delights of everyday life such as making a pie. Preserved in 2022 from the original camera reversal elements by the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History & Culture through a National Film Preservation 

Foundation grant.

 

This is why the Film Registry is so important: the Zora Lathan films showed up on YouTube within days of their induction. These whimsical short pieces designed to make "the ordinary seem extraordinary." You can look at them as "home movies" (and the Registry has plenty of those), but Latham's eye towards pushing the possible by limited means still producess a smile.

 

Clip and Save

 

* Olmos has two films inducted into the Registry this year, but he's not alone. So do Lou Adler and Cheech Marin and William Cameron Menzies.