INTIMACIES OF THE SMALL (A Cozy Screening of Small Gauge Films)

One night of 8mm and Super 8mm films where nothing was super, my interest was small, and the word “intimacy” got confused with mastubatory.

S-8 Diaries 1987/1988 Gary Adlestein
Film Notebook Part 1 Marjorie Keller
Whole Note Saul Levine
Runner Bill Creston
Celluloid Memory Kenji Onishi

Each film had its moments, more like shots, but as a whole just about every film felt personal and out of place. Like notebooks found on the side of the road I approached each of these films with the hope that they might deliver some unsuspecting gem, rough around the edges but glowing with an inner brilliance. Instead I saw a series of poorly shot, mashed up images that we more maddening than magical. If things may flow in one ear and out the other, these films flowed in one eye and out the other. Not wholly forgettable, but entirely disposable. I will be lucky if I am able to remember but one or two images from this night’s program.

Rules of the Game (1939)

A famous aviator pines for the wife of a rich aristocrat, who just happens to be having an affair with another women. Invited to the aristocrats country home by a mutual friend the love triangle grows tighter, tensions flare, and chaos runs rampant through the countryside. The buffonish antics of the upper class guests are mirrored in the equally messy relationships of the lower class servants. The foreground and background are constantly bustling with hysterical parties in search of one another, professing their love or threatening other’s lives. Were it not shot my one of the masters of French cinema – or all cinema for that matter – this premise could easily dwindle down to the one of a series of harebrained soap opera plots or mad-capped comedy clunkers. In the hands of Jean Renior Rules of the Game becomes a part of the cinematic canon, a classic that continually appears on critic’s top ten lists. This classic French drama/comedy about social classes was once considered all but lost. Hated by the French government when it first played, burned by Nazi’s during the occupation, and bombed accidentally by the allies Rules of the Game was rediscovered in the 1950′s, reconstructed, and in time accepted as one of the great works of cinema.

Without meaning to sound insulting, Rules of the Game is nothing but a blotted soap opera. Masterfully constructed by one of France’s greatest cinematic director’s, Jean Renoir’s comedy of social manners sends up the upper and lower classes showing that their is little difference between their lives. Money does not make the lives of the aristocrats anymore meaningful, deeper, or richer. Their lives are just as shallow and complicated as the servants that serve them, but in all cases it is not social status, but human desire that has created all the confusion that surrounds this summer hunting party.

Today, the critical and scholarly references to Rules of the Game recite the legends behind the film or Renoir’s use of deep focus, that pre-dates Citizen Kane. Needlessly, the socio-political message of the film becomes a key topic of discussion, though it is wholly unnecessary for a modern audience to catch the scathing attacks on pre-WWII French culture to enjoy the comedy of manners gone sour that truly makes Rules of the Game a memorable piece of cinema. Unlike other, more political pieces of Renoir’s, Rules of the Game is an over-the-top send-up that sparkles with life. If their are deeper meanings and stunning camera work they take a back seat to the lively performances and the zig-zagging storylines that run amok in the mansion. Perhaps, it is the discussion of such deeper meanings, pumped up by critics and scholars that makes Rules of the Game sound more like vegetables than dessert, thus leaving wider audiences a bad taste, before they even sample the film. To hear it presented as an important work of cinema, that uses long takes, deep focus, and comments heavily on the social strife of pre-WWII France tantamount to saying, Brussle sprouts are being served for dinner. Of course, this is wholly not the case. Once given a chance even the most jaded audiences can overcome the few hang-ups that hold back many old foreign films – subtitles, black’n'white, etc. Rules of the Game goes to show that class struggle, love triangles, and good, rapid fire humor are things that know no national or temporal bounds.

Kung Fu Hustle (2004) – 5 Random Thoughts

1) This is not a Kung-Fu film as much as it is a cartoon. The use of the word “Kung-Fu” in the title is a bit of a misnomer. Yes, martial arts play a key role in the picture, but through the use of CGI, the chopsocky stretches itself well past normal human limitations and well into the realm of cartoons – in particular, Warner Brothers cartoons; early Looney Tunes. Selling this film to fans of Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny might be easier than selling it to fans of Bruce Lee and Sonny Chiba.

2) CGI effects work best when they adhere to the logic of cartoons. Since the introduction of these revolutionary special effects directors have battled with using them in a realistic fashion. Often, they are used to create impossible scenarios in a realistic fashion – a building blows up, a spaceship hurtles through the cosmos, etc. The goal of CGI has primarily been to make the unreal feel real. In Kung-Fu Hustle there are moments of subtle CGI manipulation that smack of its fraudulent, unrealistic tinkering with reality. However, the far superior and far more predominant use of CGI comes when director, Stephen Chow uses this digital tool to create extremely cartoonish effects. Characters run so fast that their legs appear to be small tornados. A character takes a nasty snake bite to the mouth and a scene later his lips have swollen to an impossibly huge size. These over-the-top, sight gags push Kung-Fu Hustle into the world of cartoons and just as any viewer of a cartoon knows that a cat’s face does not conform to the shape of a frying pan when it is smacked in the face with one, viewers of Kung-Fu Hustle are equally forgiving and accepting of Chow’s cartoonish use of CGI to manipulate his character’s physical appearance well past the point of reality.

3) American audiences might be getting more open-minded. Kung-Fu Hustle was the top grossing film in China. Due to the release of the final Star Wars film this summer, I’m willing to wager that Kung-Fu Hustle will not repeat its box office domination stateside. However, with the small success of this picture and that of Sin City there holds promise that America maybe willing to go along with a filmmaker, with little need for a single protagonist who is introduced during the opening moments of the film and who’s every action we seem to follow doggedly. There have been many films before these two (i.e. Lord of the Rings and Star Wars) that host a cast of characters, but even in those tales there is one pivotal character with whom the audience sides and cheers on. It takes many, many scenes before a clear lead character can be identified in Kung-Fu Hustle and yet Chow takes the time to make all the side characters so endearing that their stories are just as relevant and consuming as the small character arch of the lead hero that blossoms ever so late in this picture.

4) Cartoons were a lot better back in the day. I’m sounding old and I’m unable to pinpoint exactly when cartoons went from being funny to just be commercials for toys. Maybe that’s exactly when things started going down hill, when every cartoon was used to sell toys and kill time between blocks of toy commercials. There was a time when grown men who grew up watching silent slapstick artists and vaudeville comedians used to pen and pencil cartoons. They made their humor broad and deep. They were not just trying to reach children sitting in front of a television while their parents worked. These older cartoons – the early Warner Brothers, Hanna-Barbara, and Disney’s shorts were meant for everyone. Today, cartoons seem to be made for target markets. You have your kiddy cartoons, your young boys anime inspired toons, your glamour cartoons for young girls, and you even have your smart, ironic, foul-mouthed cartoons for adults. What you don’t have anymore is the one cartoon that speaks to all these target markets, that can combine a witty piece of dialog that kids can’t understand, but adults roar over with a crashing flower pot to the head that gets everyone to chuckle. In Kung-Fu Hustle you find a pseudo-live action version of these old cartoons and a reminder of just what made those early cartoons so classic.

5)Why does this film feel so forgettable? This could be more opinion than hypothesis, but I see this film getting swept under the rug and waiting to be rediscovered a few years from now. As canonical films go, this is a comedy that won’t find itself in the great pantheon of comedies. For one, it’s foreign. It also is more spectacle than memorable. Like so many old cartoons, so full of gags I left Kung-Fu Hustle laughing, but already forgetting all the reasons why I was laughing. With there being nothing to quote and few things to re-enact, unlike Napoleon Dynamite which seems to thrive on these aspects, I predict that here in America Kung-Fu Hustle will have a special place in the hearts of film nerds who already love the Kung-Fu genre, but I don’t think it’ll play in heavy rotation on AMC, Comedy Central, or TBS. After it’s initial arrival on Blockbuster’s wall of new releases one copy will get moved to the standard stacks. In some stores it will be placed in comedy. In other stores the acne faced manager will decide it’s a foreign film. Either way it will collect dust awaiting some adventurous soul, some lonely teenager looking for a laugh and a way to kill a night and I wish I was there to see the smile on that kid’s face when he finds it.

The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On (1987)

Hara Kazuo is a Japanese documentary filmmaker who works closely with his subjects to create works of cinema that our a collaborative power struggle between the filmmaker and the subject. You are never quite sure who possesses the upper hand in The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On. With his camera clearly focused on its subjects, Okauzaki Kenzo a survivor of World War II and a crusader against the Emperor of Japan, Kenzo was once arrested in 1969 for firing pachinko balls from a slingshot at the Emperor of Japan. Through probing investigations Kenso hopes to unravel war crimes that occurred while he and other Japanese troops served in New Guinea. Taking an approach that would today be familiar to anyone who has seen a Michael Moore spectacle, Kenzo confronts former members of his regiment, combatively asking them questions, attempting to tap into recessed feelings of guilt, and when that fails physically attacking them. With the family members of two soldiers who were supposedly executed for desertion, well after the war was over, Kenzo peels back layers of lies and self-denial to find horrible tales of cannibalism and murder. No one wants to take responsibility for their actions, most have blocked it from their memory, all chalk it up to the horrors of war. For Kenzo, that is not good enough, he will not rest until the Emperor is held culpable for creating situations that lead to such dehumanizing acts of aggression.

Hara Kazuo tags along, his camera ready to capture Kenzo next wild act, each one bursting forth from this aging man with such spontaneity that he seems capable of erupting at any given moment. For most of the film it is clearly Kazuo who is in charge, his actions giving cause to Kazuo’s camera. It is only late in the film that Kazuo detaches himself from Kenzo’s quest. It is through newspaper articles that we find out that Kenzo has been arrested for attempting to kill the son of a former army officer, saying that if he cannot kill the officer responsible for war crimes than killing his son is good enough. The film wraps up with Kenzo in prison serving his sentence while his wife passes on as she awaits his release. At this point Kazuo completely departs from Kenzo’s life leaving the viewer to wonder if Kenzo ever gets released.

This confrontational style of filmmaking has been reborn in today’s polarized world of politics and aggressive journalism. Though, in such modern cases the filmmaker and the subject in front of the camera are one in the same. Here, in The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On the case is different. Kenzo did want Kazuo to keep filming him and even documenting his attempted murder on camera. For the filmmaker this was going too far. Kenzo is now out of prison and in his eighties. It is rumored that he is working in the Japanese porn industry. There is no palpable truth to such rumors and no speculation as to the role Kenzo might be playing in such an industry, but for a man who was once arrested for distributing leaflets depicting the Emperor in a pornographic fashion anything seems plausible.

The Thursday People

Working as a semi-sequel to the George Kuchar Video Diary Number 5 this short homemade video documents a weekly gathering amongst a group of friends who are meeting for the first time since the death of their dear friend Curt McDowell. Here Kuchar wanders the confines, his camera probing into conversations. Kuchar himself attempts to liven the spirits of those in the house, making jokes, asking questions, and spreading his continually upbeat personality. For all his attempts it is impossible to not notice the somber mood that dwells amongst the patrons at this wake.

Again, Kuchar’s style of shooting, his use of low-end, consumer technology, and his first person narration may be offsetting to some. There is always a sense of, “Well, I could have done that,” lingering about. However, Kuchar has done it and he has done it without restraint. Where others would find it tasteless to bring a camera to such an event, Kuchar has find reason and never once does his intent fell exploitive of a situation ripe with emotion.

Wild Night in El Reno (1977)

This short film by George Kuchar may be the best thing I’ve seen by the master of madcapped melodrama. Rather than camping it up, Kuchar takes a more experimental, artistic approach to document one of his many yearly trips to Oklahoma. While there Kuchar camps out in a cut-rate motel, explores the landscape, and waits for the storms to roll in. Using carefully composed shot images of the weather outside his window, the layout of his hotel room, and some chuckle inducing stills of vulgar graffiti, Kuchar creates a personal cinematic scrapbook. Layered overtop of these images are snippets of sounds taken from Hollywood melodramas and news reports.

Kuchar has always had a good ear for catchy, but telling sounds. In Wild Night In El Reno Kuchar lets the images and found sounds tell the story of tornado season. It should also be noted that while many people associate underground films, especially ones that play up camp qualities, as being poorly shot, this particular film along with key moments from other shorts by Kuchar exhibit a calculating eye. This is a truly wondrous little film and for anyone who may not have the sense of humor to stomach the early films Kuchar made with his brother, this particular piece of work plays nicely to those in need of something tamer. While I see art in all that he does, Wild Night in El Reno is more aesthetically pleasing in a classic sense. At 6 minutes long it wastes nobodies time, that is if you can find a

Video Diary 5

Video Diary Number 5 is an hour long video diary shot by George Kuchar while he teaches a course in San Francisco, puts on a retrospective with his brother, and grapples with the slow death of his friend and fellow filmmaker Curt McDowell (Thundercrack). Like its title states, this is a directs video made on a consumer level video camcorder with the entire production being edited in camera. For those you demand slick veneer or those abhor navel gazing films George Kuchar gives little reason for you to embrace his video diaries. Fans of Kuchar and fans of lo-fi, do-it-yourself productions may feel just the opposite. There is no middle ground for this sort of work.

While the camera work and the editing may be as crude as Kuchar himself there is a homemade charm that flows through his video, just as it once flowed through the 8mm films he and his brother shot. Rife with self-defacing humor and a candid openness that allows him to display the most disgusting of body functions on camera Kuchar’s work exhibits an antidote to cleaned-up, self-censored Hollywood image or even the image of most independent productions. If Kuchar is presenting a slice of life it is certainly not the sort most would document nor present to the greater world. In a way his life is just as boring, uneventful, and drab as the lives we all inhabit. Even with the drama of Curt McDowell’s death, a tragic lose brought on by the AIDS virus, the emotion is rather subdued and not the expected melodrama that plays so heavily in Kuchar’s campy 8mm films. Curt tries to look his best. He attempts to die with dignity and Kuchar refuses to exploit his pain or making him a posterchild for some cause. Kuchar gives McDowell the dignity he deserves and though Kuchar is happiest when he is telling others how the annual film festival will be in Curt’s honor, his sense of lost is rather apparent. But here, the pain is internal, a place the camcorder cannot fully document.

Unless one is a fan of autobiographical work or a fan of George Kuchar there is little reason to check out this gem. However, when watching a piece that could easily be dismissed as the lackadaisical daily recordings of an underground film legend it is important to remember that few people could leave themselves so exposed. Kuchar is not afraid to sound foolish or even look foolish and in this there is a sense of liberation for the viewer – a reminder that we all hide behind something and that we all censor ourselves in a crowd. Kuchar may not be presenting the typical view of a hero, but in a way this image of his life and the death of Curt McDowell is very heroic.

Early 8mm Films of George and Mike Kuchar

This one post covers a two night program of films made by twin brothers, Mike and George Kuchar. At the age of twelve they began making home movies with 8mm cameras. By their late teens and early twenties the Brothers Kuchar had nearly perfected a personal style a multitude of homespun, genre-bending films. Growing up in the Bronx, but pining for Hollywood George and Mike combined melodrama with horror, homemade special effects with a wild cast of eclectic friends, and they laced every film with keen sense of campy humor. Strung along by riotously funny inter-titles and mix tape soundtracks each film looks as if it were as fun to make as it is to watch – each film is a spontaneous party, lovingly photographed and projected.

Program One – Monday, April 18th

The Thief and the Stripper
An artist tempted by a stripper, a thief who steals women’s hearts, a dead wife a nosy neighbor watches, and phantom spirits all create a tapestry of sins that culminates in a deadly moral. This film has it all – the super natural, the super sleazy, the super funny – it’s just plain super. It feels like just like the sort of film John Waters would make and with this film its no surprise that Waters is heavily influenced by the Kuchar Brothers.

Born of the Wind
An over the top horror story so hammy that it could be called Spammy. A lovesick doctor uses human blood to revive the remains of a mummified Egyptian princess. Of course, once a live she’s got eyes for other and an undying thirst for more blood. Douglas Sirk meets James Whale and The Kuchar Brothers really show off their special effects skills with storybook like animations of the mad doctor’s castle, lightning bolts, and swarms of bats. Of course, the interiors look all too much like someone’s apartment, but that’s half the charm.

A Town Called Tempest
Tempest, Kansas is a town full of hypocrites, thus making it the perfect target for a vengeful act of God. Laughed at by his own parents, one young teenager dedicates himself to building a top-notch storm cellar. When the tempest finally comes the teen gets his revenge by locking his parents out and saving himself. After the storm passes he resurfaces to find that he is not the only one spared. A Catholic crank junkie and the Born-again town whore have both evaded God’s fury leaving the teenager to wonder if there is a god at all.

Sylvia’s Promise
Mike Kuchar stars as an abusive, cheating husband who only agrees to marry his overweight girlfriend after she promises to drop a few pounds. They get married and have a kid. He remains a louse. She gets fatter. The family situation spirals into anarchy and comic violence.

Program Two – Tuesday, April 19th

A Woman Distressed
For no real reason a pregnant woman is confined to an insane asylum. Her roommates are a disturbing sleazebag and a sock-monkey sucking idiot. The staff is no saner. She screams for help. She tries to break free. Finally, a doctor lets her go home to give birth to a midget, with a title card telling us that the small child grows up wanting to grow up.

Night of the Bomb
Teens party their lives away not knowing that at any instance an atomic bomb might forever alter their destinies. The Kuchar’s avoid all suspense, never showing the bomb. Minutes of wild partying are suddenly interrupted by a flash of light, very corny effects, and the chaos that comes after a nuclear blast. But even after the bomb drops there is still hope for true romance.

The Confessions of Babette
She’s done it all. She’s seen it all. This fifteen minute short is a hilarious romp through one woman’s depravity, but it’s so caring that it’s more sweet than sick. Mike Kuchar has his tongue so deeply buried in his cheek that is leaves the whole film feeling cheeky. A bit one-note, but well sustained.

Anita Needs Me
As one man learns of another man’s troubled relationship he understands how to handle his own troubles at home. The only film to have any dialog, this tale of tragedy and the scars it leaves on the human psyche is wonderfully told through a voice-over monologue that dives into the deepest shades purple prose.

I Was A Teenage Rumpot
The most promising title leads to one of the most disappoint films. It still provides ample amounts of overacting, wild antics, and loads of melodrama, but not the masterpiece that title might suggest. If anything this film expresses the Kuchar’s ability to make anyone a star.

The Slasher
A killer, one real ugly one, is loose and racking up victims at an expensive resort. Every room is labeled with a handwritten sign tacked to the door and the local cops pay a woman five whole dollars to use her “goods” to attract the mad slasher. Things were cheaper back in 1958, but this is still a low-budget gem in the over saturated horror/comedy genre.

AFTERTHOUGHTS:

1) These Films are Dangerous: As I watched the campy work of the Kuchar Brothers I looked around the theatre at the younger audience members and worried what these films might be doing to their impressionable minds. I had no fear of them delving into a life of depravity or homicide. The wild world of George and Mike Kuchar is pretty tame by today’s standards. Most youngsters have seen enough killing on television and enough depravity as well, but what they haven’t seen is good use of camp humor. I fear that they will only see the low-production value of each film and consider making their own films. The Kuchar’s are great filmmakers even if their acting, set design, and costuming is all less than professional. In spirit, the Kuchar’s are mimicking Hollywood and lovingly trying to great the excitement and entertainment that Hollywood has always tried to provide. Most of the films during this two night program were over fifteen minutes long which is short by Hollywood standards, but can feel like an eternity when done poorly. Few if any of the Kuchar 8mm films drag. I can’t say the same thing about so many low-quality student shorts.

2) Through Being Cool: Once being an outsider meant something. Today the outsiders are the new insiders. The work of Todd Solondz, Wes Anderson, and the success of Napoleon Dynamite has proven that being uncool is now cool. When George and Mike Kuchar were making films there was probably a sense of coolness that was shared amongst their outsider friends, but it did not stretch far past that small circle of fellow outsiders. Today, homosexuals, cross-dressers, and strippers are not restrained to the darker recesses of society. While not wholly accepted or given equal respect by all aspects of society, each of these sects of the outsider cultural landscape has found a sense of glamorous respectability. Watching the Kuchar films is like watching elements from a time capsule when these groups were still considered to be the fringes of society. One can still get this feeling with early John Waters films and the work of Warhol/Morrissey, but today’s attempts to great cinematic outsides into heroes only seems to lead to new fashion trends. Perhaps we have our newly opened minds to thank for this or perhaps we have our embrace of irony to blame for this. The heir to the Kuchar’s is not these hipster-dorks that peddle their too-cool to be cool characters. No, the real heir to the Kuchar’s appears to be Harmony Korine. Between Gummo and Julien Donkey Boy and Harmony’s use of mentally handicapped actors and other real-life non-stars he has tapped into a spirit that seems directly related to the homemade films of George and Mike Kuchar.

3) The Beauty around the Ugly: By no stretch of the imagination could you call the people in George and Mike’s films photogenic or cinematic, at least not by the standards of Hollywood. They aren’t even Hollywood ugly. Though, most of the actors in all their work have a distinct look that leaves a lasting impression, but more than the actors I walked away from each of these films remembering individual shots that were so cinematic you’d swear they stole it from a big time production. A setting sun through winter trees, two bodies in silhouette, a lush orange carpeted room, articles on a sun soaked table – these were the flashes of beauty that bookend the action. Seeing these wonderful 8mm films blown up to 16mm enlarged the grainy, saturated beauty of these small, wonderful images.

4) You’ve Got To Do It First: If Avant-Garde literally mean “the advanced guard”, a military team meaning the first soldiers to the fight, then The Kuchar’s are avant-garde because they were the first to make 8mm home movies that mimicked Hollywood while laughing at their own limitations. Today, to make a film like this is to just ape what someone else has done. Being campy just to be campy is no good. You have to love the films you make. You can’t just try to be a bad filmmaker. I never once felt the Kuchar’s were trying to make bad films. If anything they were reveling in their limitations and doing their best to push them. If they couldn’t make someone’s apartment look like an insane asylum or a cast they let the actors fill the space with larger than life performances and they never tried to fool the audience. They too knew their limits and rather than stretch them they just find innovate ways to keep the audience interested, like constantly changing the direction of their stories and being razor sharp with their humor. The Kuchar’s of fans of film. They never tried to make a bad film. That would be traitorous. They are great filmmakers because they were the first to make bad movies that are smart – thus they made great films.

Don’t Give Up The Ship (1959)

Jerry Lewis is a mixed bag. The cliché is that the French think he’s a genius and Americans think he’s a goofball. I can see both sides of the argument, but I am willing to take the good with the bad. His over-the-top facial mugging and his idiot shtick are enough to make me swear him off, but even in a film as rocky as Don’t Give Up The Ship there is a magic that lies between the comic set-pieces and Lewis’ overly-amped antics.

Contractually obligated to make two more films before he was set free to make his more famous and more rewarding comedies Lewis delivers an uneven film about a just married, seventh generation, naval cadet who comes from a long lineage of screw-ups. Before he and his baby-talking bride can enjoy their honeymoon Lewis is called up by the US Navy and a budget cutting senator to explain what happened to the destroyer that was left in Lewis’ charge at the end of World War II. With the help of a blonde bombshell, Navy headshrinker Lewis hopes to remember what happened to the U.S.S. Cornblatt before his marriage and the US Navy’s budget down with ship.

Bouncing from one whacky scenario to another and using lots of government stock footage overdubbed with Lewis’ poorly delivered comedic lines ones is left to wonder if Lewis can only be funny when we can see his face. Even when he is visually on the screen the moments of pure comic genius are rather sparse. Outside of a well timed wrestling match sequence where Lewis attempts to garner information from a former crew member as the poor sap gets his brain beaten out in a wrestling bout the comedy is all wet – in particular a wholly unfuny underwater sequence with an all too fake rubber octopus.

So, what’s worth watching? For the French and for myself it’s the moments between punch lines where Lewis’ slight gestures, sudden changes in direction bare an uncanny resemblance to the acting style of John Cassavetes. Though rarely known for playing comedic characters Cassavetes has always had a lively sense of humor that brews behind every role he has ever played. Cassavetes is reported to have been a big fan of Lewis’ work and though side-by-side their films would not seem at all similar, the gestures of each man would mirror one another that the influence of Lewis on Cassavetes would be irrefutable. They fidgety mannerisms, the constant use of the arms and hands, and the way they crack a smile and change their mood are identical. Seeing this, I can understand why some consider Lewis a genius. It’s too bad that all his outlandish antics often out shadow the smaller, funnier aspects to his acting style.

The Set-Up

If one were to have a weigh-in of all the great boxing movies ever made I fear that The Set-Up would come up short. By no means does this seventy-two minute feature film look like it has the stamina, power, or tenacity to go fifteen rounds against the likes of Raging Bull, Rocky, or all the other contenders fighting to be crowned the champion of all boxing films. But, I’d put my money on this darkhorse.

It may not have the flash of Raging Bull, the heart of Rocky, or the sheer spectacle of most boxing pictures, but it has more humanism than any other boxing film to ever take a stab at the title. Robert Ryan is never going to be a champion. He’s got a long record of losing, but he’s not going to lose this one fight. His girlfriend can’t stand to see him kill himself slowly. His trainer has bet against him and wants him to throw in the towel. But he’s got pride and he doesn’t care if he’s going to catch hell from a crime boss for not taking a dive.

Full of sweat, tension, and grit this noir boxing drama explore the self-destructive nature of pride. Robert Wise does a wondrous job a painting a portrait of a man trapped by life itself. Keeping the story locked into a short time span and a small vicinity helps add to the claustrophobic nature of both the film and Ryan’s ordeal. Against all better judgment Ryan refuses to just lose this fight. Doing so might mean the death of him, but not trying to win would be just as crushing. However, by winning in the ring he loses everything outside of it. In this way, the two worlds cannot exist together and yet Ryan’s character finds himself stuck squarely between them.

I know most people want external action in a boxing movie, but the internal beating that Ryan’s bruiser endures far outweighs the battering most boxers face inside the square circle. In this case The Set-Up is less about boxing and more about human struggle, perhaps that is why it holds more humanity than most boxing movies.