Top Ten American Movies of All Time

Several months ago I went out on a limb and chose the top ten paintings of the last thousand years.  Well, inasmuch as the favorite topic at the moment among my friends seems to be movies, I'm going to crawl even further out on the proverbial limb and list the top ten movies of the last thousand years. I know, that sounds like a bit much, but since movies have only been around for a little over a hundred years, it's no great stretch. Speaking as one who has taught both film making and film history, I may not be the greatest expert in the world, but I do have some basis of judgment on the subject. Unfortunately, I am not conversant enough in foreign films to consider them in this list. Likewise, these are not necessarily my favorite movies; and the order of placement in the list may be arguable; but I feel firmly that these ten motion pictures are classics in every sense of the word and should be lodged in the film memory vault of every individual alive. 

10.  West Side Story--winner of ten Academy Awards; classic Shakespearean plot updated; still as relevant today as in 1961; young people who later became screen legends; the film boasts music and choreography as good as Broadway or Hollywood ever gets.

9.  Dr. Strangelove (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb)--Dating from 1963, not all the great ones win Academy Awards or strut their stuff in glorious color. Stanley Kubrick's chilling little cold war farce (which he wrote, produced, and directed) just before 2001: A Space Odyssey (tough call between these two) showcases George C. Scott, Keenan Wynn (son of Ed Wynn), and the late, great Peter Sellers in three different leading roles. (I know, that sounds impossible.) James Earl Jones and Slim Pickins also put in appearances. You know a movie has made an impact when it becomes an adjective--strangelovian.

8.  Birth of a Nation--Dating from the early silent era (1915), D. W.  Griffith taught Hollywood how to make movies. His four-hour epic is loaded with the blatant racism of its time, but the daring scope of its content, and its cinematography rise above that to achievements unknown in its day. Even today it remains a virtual "how to" book on basic film making as well as propaganda. It's American history (albeit from a Southern point of view) as well as film history of the highest caliber (best taken in small doses or with one finger on "fast forward").

7.  "Casablanca--Even 1943 "B" movies sometimes achieve greatness. This is a sentimental favorite with probably more unforgettable lines than any movie ever made. Like Strangelove, it demonstrates you can make great movies without great budgets. Bogart and Bergman--film chemistry just doesn't get any better than this.

6.  Titanic--Which just goes to show, you can also make great movies in spite of great budgets. Eleven Academy Awards and a zillion dollars in box office loot can't all be wrong. And to give credit where it's due, sharp directing, editing, cutting edge special effects, another Romeo and Juliet plot rip-off, and a great score don't hurt either.

5.  The Godfather (Part II)--The Mob never looked so good...or so human. Coppola's dark, mafia masterpieces are not among my favorites but I have to respect his work. Like so many great films, this 1974 sequel, is a blockbuster which could easily have gone terribly wrong, but didn't.

4.  Ben-Hur (1959)--The first motion picture to ever win eleven Academy Awards, with two or three of the most memorable sequences ever put on film. Easily the best film of the 1950s, it's a biblical saga with a powerful spiritual message, which yet manages to avoid becoming a Sunday school lesson.

3.  Gone With the Wind--What can I say about this 1939 epic that hasn't already been said a hundred times over? It's not a perfect movie. Selznick's pedantic paraphrasing of Margaret Mitchell's dialogue would not give Shakespeare cause for alarm; yet if movies are about greatness--pictures, music, drama, and great stories about great events told with great feeling--then this one holds up quite well now seventy-two years after it was made.

2.  Citizen Kane--Considered by many to actually be the "perfect movie," it's amazing how many films on this list were virtual one-man-shows. Maybe a single individual dominating every facet of the work is one of the most important prerequisites for greatness. Whether his name is D.W. Griffith, David Selznick, Orson Welles, Stanley Kubrick, or James Cameron, in so many cases a single artist made the movie great despite sometimes incredible odds. This 1940 masterpiece wrote the sequel to Birth of a Nation insofar as cinematography is concerned.

1.  Schindler's List--I'm not ashamed to admit it. Spielberg made me cry.

Citizen Kane

Citizen Kane as seen in 1941.

Orson Welles as Charles Foster
Kane utters my favorite line from
the movie: You're right, I did
lose a million dollars last year.
I expect to lose a million dollars
this year. I expect to lose a
million dollars *next* year. You
know, Mr. Thatcher, at the rate
of a million dollars a year, I'll have
 to close this place in...60 years.

As a long-time movie buff who now seldom watches movies, I rely on various movie lists in deciding which films to write about. It might be overstating the case to say there are as many lists as there are movies and writers, like myself, who think they know something about the arts and crafts of film making, but not by much. I've never counted, but I think I'd be safe in saying there are several dozens of such lists, perhaps numbering more than a hundred (which is, in fact, several dozen). I've always had a preference for "top ten" lists but some run the number up to one-hundred, even as high as a thousand, at which point the diverge to such a degree as to be meaningless. Some break their lists down by genre, which is interesting, but dilutes the importance of the lists themselves. IMDb (Internet Movie Database) has a good list, as does the AFI (American Film Institute), AMC (American Movie Channel), Wikipedia, The New York Times, Time magazine, and, who knows, maybe even Times Square. I also have a top ten list: Jim Lane's Top Ten American Movie List.

May 1, 1941,
RKO Palace, New York

Insofar as the all-time top ten movies, there is a fairly consistent group of great pictures which are universally admired. And, though the order may vary somewhat, the titles do not. For instance, I placed Citizen Kane at number nine on my list. AFI has it at number one (this year). Such discrepancies can be accounted for by the fact that such lists are not static (most of the best ones are revised yearly) and the fact that some lists (like mine) consist solely of American movies while others are international in scope. Of all the top movie list films, Orson Welles' Citizen Kane (top and above, left) is likely the one film on virtually all such lists, and usually in the top five. In perusing the plethora of motion picture list postings, it occurred to me that, though I'd written on Orson Wells, I'd never written about his one greatest film, except for one brief paragraph devoted to it in my broad discourse on his life in general.

Breakfast at the Kane's, a montage sequence in which Welles chronicles the
deterioration of the Kane marriage over a period of years.  It features one
of the low camera angle shots for which the film is famous.

The first Mrs. Kane, Ruth
Warrick in her movie debut.

Citizen Kane has always been something of an enigma. Though a perennial list-topper, my guess is that fewer people have actually seen this movie than any other film on the many top-ten lists. There are several reasons for that. First of all, it's an old film (1941), not ancient, but not one falling within the lifespan of most of the people alive today (including my own). Second, it's in black and white, which further dates it as ancient in most people's minds. Third, though Orson Welles is not exactly unknown, even today, very few people have ever actually seen him, or his work, in any context, even his 1970s Paul Masson wine commercials ("We will sell no wine before it's time."). Finally, Citizen Kane is not an easy film to watch, to enjoy, to understand, or appreciate. Those who do appreciate it (or claim to) very often do so because film critics and connoisseurs insist they should appreciate it. After all, it's near the top of virtually everyone's top ten move list, right?

Welles' low-level camera shots in some cases, required that studio
floorboards had to be removed to accomodate the camera operator.

The second Mrs. Kane, Susan
Alexander, played by Dorothy
Comingore

In teaching art in the public schools, I used to include at every level a unit on "Movies as an Art Form." I taught Citizen Kane to my third-year high school students. Though I tried, it was not the most popular film in the curriculum (I've also taught it at the college level). One might think a film about the mass media, the super rich, and political intrigue would be as relevant today as in 1941. Wrong. All three of these primary elements in the story have changed so much since that era as to be barely recognizable to viewers today. In general, costume dramas like War and Peace, Gone With the Wind, and Ben-Hur tend to age pretty well. The problem with Citizen Kane is that the costumes are too familiar while the movie's themes are not. Of course we have today wealthy media moguls like Kane (the Donald comes to mind) who dabble in politics, but they tend to be fodder for late night comedians rather than serious candidates. We also have politics stirred into the entertainment industry (and vice-versa), but that tends to be taken with a "so what" attitude by those who largely consider them one and the same anyway. Add to that the fact that few people today have ever even heard of William Randolph Hearst (upon whom Kane is closely based). And then there's "Rosebud." Even people who have seen the film sometimes come away disappointed, having missed the few brief seconds near the end which ties together the whole complex recounting of the millionaire title character's long, desperate search for happiness.

 

As iconic as it is symbolic, Charles Foster Kane (Welles) astride his publishing empire.

All this is not to in any way lessen the importance of Welles, the man, or Welles the actor, or Welles the highly creative independent filmmaker. The man excelled in all these areas, and never more so than in Citizen Kane. The film is especially difficult because it begins at the end. Few filmmakers, then or now, would have the guts to kill off the title character within the first few minutes of their movie. Welles did so, thus turning the entire film into a flashback. Flashbacks are a tricky, even "dangerous," storytelling device for any director. Welles wrote them book on flashbacks. His innovative camera angles, his lighting, his screenplay, his intermixing of newsreel footage and newspaper headlines are iconic models taught in every film schools today. Welles was daring, co-writing (with Herman Mankiewicz), directing, producing, and starring along with a hand-picked cast of then unknown acting talent, in a film no studio would touch (RKO wouldn't have touched it if they'd realized at the time what Welles was up to). His thinly disguised delving into the private life of public figures, and the gradual degeneration of an idealist into an eccentric, power-hungry recluse all serve to elevate Welles and his much appreciated, but unbeloved masterpiece (as compared to Casablanca, for instance) to its place as the intellectual favorite near the top of virtually all movie lists. Yet, the film's all-time domestic gross clocks in at little more an one-and-a-half million dollars.
 

My Top Ten Posts for 2015

Long before David Letterman made them a talk show staple, I was always a fan of Top Ten lists. In fact, I've created a few of them over the years including:

        Top Ten American Movies of All Time

        The Top Ten Greatest Paintings

        Top Ten Ways You Know Your Art School Is Not Among the Top Ten Art Schools.

Inasmuch as today starts yet another new year, I'm taking this opportunity to list the Top Ten Posts from 2015. I must admit, some of the results surprised me. The list is based upon the number of page views each post has amassed in 2015. I would have expected the list would be based largely upon art topics; but instead, it would seem that the biographical items have been the most popular. Surprisingly, all but one are relatively unknown artists from the past.

10.  FRANCISCO OLLER

El Velorio, ca 1893, Francisco Oller,

 9. ALPHONSE MUCHA

The Four Season, 1895, Alphonse Mucha

 8. JOE PHILLIPS

Legion of Super Heroes, Joe Phillips

 7. ROBERTO PARADA

Parada faces

6. MAXIMILIEN LUCE

The Good Samaritan, 1896, Maximilien Luce

 5. PATRICK NAGEL

Palm Springs Life, Patrick Nagel

 4. MUSCLE PAINTING

Battle of Cacina, Michelangelo

 3. BUCKINGHAM PALACE

Buckingham Palace from the gardens.

 2. SANTIAGO MARTINEZ DELGADO



Mural, 1933 Chicago World's Fair, Santiago Martinez Delgado

And the number ONE post for 2015 is:

 

1. PAINTING GREEK GODS

Gods of Olympus, 1534-35 Giulion Romano

There you have it, folks, click on the link above each image to check out the original post. I'm looking forward to another 365 366 posts next year. I hope you are too.

 

 

 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
























 

Stanley Kubrick

Stanley Kubrick

Several months ago (06-17-12) I wrote proposing my own list of top ten movies of all time. I won't list them here nor list the artists who produced them. I will mention those I've written about including most recently (number one on my list) Schindler's List producer, Steven Spielberg (he was robbed at the 2013 Academy Awards, but that's another matter). I've also written on Orson Wells (#2 on my list), David O. Selznick (#3), and D.W. Griffith (#8). Stanley Kubrick came in at number 9 on my list with his low-budget, 1963, satire Dr. Strangelove (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb). If nothing else, Kubrick's full film title, at thirteen words in length, undoubtedly wins the award for the longest in history. I could spend this entire blog writing about just this one film. (I may do just that someday with not just this one, but each film on my top ten list.)

 

Kubrick learned all there
was to know about film making
all in an effort to save a buck.

Stanley Kubrick was born in the Bronx in 1928 of Jewish parents, the older of two children. At the age of thirteen, Kubrick took up still photography, though in high school he barely made passing grades. After WWII Kubrick became an apprentice photographer for Look magazine and shortly thereafter joined the full-time staff. It was during this time he began unofficially studying film making at the Museum of Modern Art through their screenings of the work of directors Max Ophuls and Elia Kazan, both of whom were to influence his later directorial work. By 1951 Kubrick was directing March of Time newsreels. He made his first film the same year, the sixteen-minute-long Day of the Fight in which he was cameraman, director, editor, assistant editor, and sound effects man all rolled into one, all in the name of saving money. However, more important than the money he saved was the broad experience in film making he gained. The early 1950s found Kubrick making documentaries, one of which (on Abraham Lincoln) became a part of the Omnibus TV series.

 

Early Kubrick, early Douglas.

Kubrick reprised his one-man-band act in making his first feature film Fear and Desire (1953), a war film in which Kubrick and his wife comprised the entire crew. As in the case of most first films, it was not a success at the box-office and Kubrick was forever embarrassed by what he termed a "bumbling and boring" first effort. However the film demonstrated his interests in the conflict between rational and irrational elements in warfare planning that were to show up in later films, Paths of Glory, Dr. Strangelove, and Full Metal Jacket. By the mid-1950s, Kubrick was making low-budget feature films with a full crew and rising young actors like Sterling Heyden (the Killing) and Kirk Douglas (Paths of Glory), a WW I anti-war film where he demonstrated for the first time his trademark long tracking shot.

 

Kubrick found himself in the awkward position
of working for the star of his film. Kirk Douglas
owned the movie rights to Spartacus.

By 1960, Kubrick had hit the big time. Working with a cast of 10,000 and a million-dollar budget, Spartacus, also starring Kirk Douglas, was only his fourth feature film...and it showed. His low-budget one-man-band approach rankled the Hollywood pros, creating numerous conflicts on the set. Though the film was a critical and financial success, winning four Academy Awards, it was the first and last film Kubrick ever made not having complete financial and creative control of the project. His next film, Lolita, in 1962, was as far removed from the epic Spartacus as could be imagined. And even after having removed most of the eroticism of Vladimir Nabokov's steamy, pedophilic novel, the film was his most controversial. It was also his first time working with Peter Sellers.

 

Kubrick discovered Peter Sellers
and Sue Lyon. Lolita made them stars.

Lolita proved Kubrick's dark comedic talent. Dr. Strangelove and his genius in casting Sellers in all three major roles of the film proved his mastery of the genre. Despite his numerous other outstanding works, Strangelove I consider to be the cumulative epitome of Kubrick's career. His name in the hand drawn opening credits rolling up the screen occurred so often as to be embarrassing were it not for the fact Seller's name appeared almost as often (click the link below, right). The film was a satiric rewrite of the Peter George novel, Red Alert, controversial if for no other reason than Kubrick turned it into a black comedy at a time when the public found little amusing about nuclear warfare. Kubrick and Sellers changed all that. Even "mutually assured destruction" had its lighter side in contrast to the darker side of bumbling generals, statesmen, and policy wonks. Together with British screenwriter, Terry Southern, they penned such outrageous, "strangelovian" dialogue as: "You can't fight here, this is the war room."

Despite the outstanding performance
of Peter Sellers in three roles, it was
this iconic image of Slim Pickins wildly 
riding an H-bomb to his death which
has become forever associate with
Dr. Strangelove.

 

The classic opening sequence to Dr. Strangelove.

 

If Dr. Strangelove changed forever the way we looked at the cold war, Kubrick's 2001: a Space Odyssey forever changed the way we looked at the future and particularly space exploration. Kubrick took the science fiction genre from silly hubcap flying saucers on fishing line into what has proven to be the 21st century cinematography, though his timeline regarding space travel has proven to be ridiculously optimistic. However, his 1968 predictions as to computer development have tended to be quite accurate (below). And, though Kubrick's (and Arthur C. Clarke's) subtle, tripartite, screenplay proved to be too erudite for most movie goers at the time, needless to say, George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to Kubrick for his ground breaking, mind-bending visuals which, even today, almost fifty years later, appear to be state-of-the-art.

Irony has always been Kubrick's stock
in trade and never more so than in
2001: a Space Odyssey in which the
stunning visuals and a computer
named HAL 9000 upstaged the actors. 

 

The Godfather Part II

Al Pacino's most famous line from Godfather II. Most of the really memorable Godfather lines came from the original Godfather and the original godfather, Marlon Brando.

A little over a year ago (06-17-12) I enumerated a list of the "Top Ten American Movies of All Time." Both before and since then, I've been doing individual items on each of the films I listed. The Godfather Part II is the final film in that series. I listed it as number five, just ahead of Titanic (#6) and just behind Ben Hur (#4). That placement was based mostly on the film's critical reputation and its ranking on numerous other hierarchical lists on which it fell both above and below my ranking. The reason for this is that, I must confess, I have never seen this film in its entirety. Gangster films are among my least favorite genres, along with horror films, sports films, and the whole "chick-flick" milieu of lighthearted romantic comedies (which my wife adores). Yet in each of these film categories there have been outstanding masterpieces such as On the Waterfront, The French Connection, Poltergeist, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and one or two of the Rocky series. Therefore, just to let you know I wasn't doting on personal favorites in creating my top-ten list, there sets Francis Ford Coppola's (and Mario Puzo's)The Godfather Part II right smack in the middle of it.

Unlike many classic films, The Godfather Part II is not rife with iconic images.
This is one of the few.

As with many outstanding film classics, the excellence of The Godfather Part II largely derives from the nearly absolute control of the film by its producer, director, and co-writer. Mr. Coppola and Mr. Puzo, the author of the book, not only worked well together, they created a work of art that was actually better than the original film and the original novel. Today we take sequels pouring out of Hollywood for granted. For better or worse (usually the latter) they are an integral part of the industry's business economics (if the original does well, milk it for all its worth--ala Rocky/Stallone). That was not the case back in the olden days of 1974 when Paramount believed audiences would not pursue an "add-on" story. They may have been right. At the box office, The Godfather Part II has not done as well as the original, grossing only $193-million (from a $13-million budget) as compared to $286-million to date for the original. And, though the original Godfather was critically acclaimed (winning three Oscars out of eight nominations), most film critics agree The Godfather Part II surpassed it on every level (winning six Academy Awards out of nine nominations).

Perhaps the most famous shot from The Godfather Part II
(cinematically speaking, of course).

The other half of the exemplary Godfather II equation was the cast. Marlon Brando was absent this time (front office politics--it's a long story) and James Caan was paid exorbitantly for his single flashback scene as Sonny Corleone. Otherwise, Al Pacino, Robert Duval, Robert De Niro, Diane Keaton, Talia Shire, Lee Strasberg, Abe Vigoda, Roger Corman, virtually the whole case reprised their roles from the original film. Moreover, these people were no dramatic lightweights. They knew their characters and responded well to Coppola's dictatorial style of direction. For a production so massive (and a budget to match), filming is said to have gone quite smoothly, finishing on schedule and on budget. Filming began the first of October, 1973 and ended nine-and-a-half months later in mid-June of the following year. The movie has the distinction of having been the last film ever shot in Technicolor. However, it was the first sequel to win an Academy Award, and in fact, the first modern-day film to be overtly marketed as a sequel (but not the last, unfortunately).

The original movie trailer (rated R):
 

James Cameron's Titanic

The fictional Rose DeWitt Bukater (Kate Winslet) posed nude for a drawing by
Jack Dawson (Leonardo DiCaprio). Seldom has a work of art played such
an important role in another work of art.

James Cameron, Oscar night, 1998

A little over a year ago, I posted my list of top ten American movies ever made (06-17-12). There I listed James Cameron's 1997 epic blockbuster, Titanic, as number six. As anyone in the movie industry will tell you, $200-million in the hands of even as talented a filmmaker as Cameron, does not guarantee a great work of cinematic art (or even a profit at the box office). Cameron was as cognizant of this axiom as any of his nervous financial backers at 20th Century Fox or Paramount Pictures. (It took two major film studios plus a substantial hunk of Cameron's own cash to finance the massive, over-budget undertaking.) It would not be exaggerating in the least to say this awareness was crucial in Cameron's meticulous approach to the work of art he wrote, co-produced, co-edited, and directed himself. The film was technically, historically, dramatically, and aesthetically right "on the money." It was right on the "money" insofar as the box office was concerned as well, the first film in history to gross more than $2-billion worldwide since its release.

Cameron directing as the Titanic sinks. Titanic didn't sink in theaters.

Cameron was not the first filmmaker to assume such a "starring" roll in his own production. D. W. Griffith did it first in Birth of a Nation. For all practical purposes, David O Selznick did everything but play Scarlett in GWTW. Kubrick took similar control of Dr. Strangelove, as did Orson Wells in Citizen Kane. Besides writing, producing, directing and editing, Wells actually did take on the starring roll in his picture. All four made my top-ten list. The quirky Woody Allen has been a similar "one man band" as well. You might even say this could well be a the surest approach in the search for cinematic perfection. One has only to argue with oneself.

Despite Cameron's best directorial efforts (or perhaps because of them)
the ship itself became the Academy Award winning star of the movie.

Despite what Titanic's opening credits might suggest, the movie was not a one-man show. DiCaprio, Winslet, Billy Zane, and Kathy Bates, to name just a few, played important "supporting" roles in Cameron's masterpiece, though none were deemed as Oscar worthy (Cameron's screenplay and DiCaprio were not even nominated). As the eleven Oscars garnered by the movie suggests, the art of filmmaking continues to be "art by committee" (Cameron carried home only three gold statues). Only two other films have ever done as well, and only Cameron's own Avatar (2009) has since exceeded Titanic at the box office. Such "winners" at movie awards ceremonies have often been known to thank the "little people" who have made their success possible.

Cameron's full-scale movie set, built along the Baja coast, was as titanic as
the ship itself. His "ocean" held 17-million gallons of water. Only two decks
along the ship's starboard side were functional.

Gloria Stuart as the 101-year-old Rose

Cameron rose above such trite, deprecating gratitude, but he would have extended the length of his three acceptance speeches by several hours had he not done so. The initial underwater photography at the wreck site was groundbreaking, as were the full-size and scaled models crafted by his art directors, Peter Lamont and Michael D. Ford. Post-production special effects were nothing less than breathtaking. The soundtrack and hit song (My Heart Will Go On), from the movie won similar accolades. It's a notable tribute to Cameron's managerial strengths that of all the many awards heaped upon Titanic, virtually every one went to those on his team behind the camera. Only 87-year-old Gloria Stuart (best supporting actress, Screen Actor's Guild), who played the aging, present-day Rose, won an acting award.


 

Mike Nichols' The Graduate

"Mrs. Robinson, you just seduced me."

Sometimes it's difficult to decided whether to write about the artist or their art. Do you write about Michelangelo or his ceiling? Do you expound upon Leonardo or Mona? Were it not for the art, the artist would never be remembered, yet were it not for the artist, the art would never have been created. Chicken and eggs anyone? That's the quandary I found myself in as I realized that among the American Film Institute's (AFI) revised list of the top 100 movies of all time, I'd written about every one of the top ten except number seven--Mike Nichols' The Graduate. This 1967 movie starring Dustin Hoffman, Anne Bancroft, and Katharine Ross was the second of the award-winning film director's twenty-two lifetime film efforts. It had been pegged at number seven on the AFI's original Top 100 List in 1998, then slipped to number seventeen on their 2007 list only to return to number seven on the AFI's most recent rankings. Although it's often considered Nichol's best and most memorable movie, I've never been particularly fond of it. But then, when your first directorial effort wins five Academy Awards, the question is, what do you do for an encore?

 

Anne Bancroft and Dustin Hoffman, very much looking their age today.

1966, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf--
Nichols, Burton, and Taylor at their best.

Nichols first film was, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (right) starring Richard Burton and his wife, the inimitable Elizabeth Taylor in the role of Martha, for which she won her second Oscar as Best Actress. Nichol's version of Edward Albee's Broadway hit was hardcore, ground-breaking, profanity-laced drama, so powerful it was instrumental in triggering Jack Valenti's MPAA rating system two years later. Had the system been in place at the time, the film would easily have earned an "X" rating. Today, it's "R" rated. By way of contrast, The Graduate was a light, angst-ridden coming of age comedy casting actors either too old (Hoffman was thirty playing a twenty-year-old Benjamin) or too young for their roles. (Bancroft was thirty-six playing a forty-something Mrs. Robinson.) Even Katharine Ross was five years older than the character (Elaine) she played. The two films had in common the fact that neither could have been made as little as five years earlier--Woolf because of the language, and The Graduate because of its theme and content. Prior to Mrs. Robinson, middle-aged mothers weren't allowed to seduce their daughter's boyfriends, even in the movies.



Mike Nichols, 1967,
filming The Graduate.

The comedy team of Elaine May
and Mike Nichols, 1958

Born in 1931, Mike Nichols was born and bred for television, his improvisational nightclub act with Elaine May in 1958 morphing first into radio, then a recording deal resulting in three hit LPs (records), followed by TV guest appearances. In 1960, the two opened a Broadway show, An Evening With Mike Nichols and Elaine May. By 1961 however, the stress of performing together nightly caused them to split up, though they later collaborated on two movies and other projects. Contrary to popular belief, they were never married. Following the split, Nichols turned to directing, his return to Broadway, debuting as director of the hit comedy, Barefoot in the Park, which ran for 1,530 performances and won him a Tony Award. He went on to direct a second Neil Simon hit, The Odd Couple with Walter Matthau and Art Carney, winning the second of six Tonys for directing.

 

Anne Bancroft, Katharine Ross, Dustin Hoffman,
the  big climax...get me from the church in time.

Pretty well sums up the entire movie.

When the film mogul, Jack Warner, called him to Hollywood in 1966, Mike Nichols caught the first wave of a new morality as the first wave of adult baby-boomers (I was one of them) hit the movie theaters. Lucy and Desi's twin beds were laughable. Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson's bed was enticing, her iconic, stocking-clad leg so erotic as to become trite today (notice there's no picture of it here). The plot, set in the early 1950s, was based upon a 1963 novel by the same title written by Charles Webb, with a screenplay by Calder Willingham and comedian, Buck Henry (whom Nichols cast as a hotel clerk in the film). Aside from Benjamin's "Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me" (it was never a question), perhaps the most memorable line from the movie, spoken by an actor not even listed in the credits, was a single word: "Plastics." Far more memorable than all the dialogue in the whole film were the words set to music by Paul Simon, among them: The Sound of Silence, Scarborough Fair, and Mrs. Robinson (which had originally been titled "Mrs. Roosevelt" and had not been intended for the film). The Graduate won a single Academy Award, an Oscar for Best Direction, a prize Mike Nichols been denied the year before when nominated for Virginia Woolf.

 

Spoiler alert--the clip below contains the final scene in the movie so if you've not seen the film, you might want to skip it.