Films of the 60s, Part 5: What if the enemy isn't in a distant land?

The above quotation, from Ani DiFranco’s “Roll With It,” is just one part of a larger idea. The rest of the song continues, “What if the enemy lies behind the voice of command?” This is what social justice means to me. Sure, social justice has a lot to do with prevailing attitudes, but when those attitudes are supported, encouraged, and endorsed by a governing body, they become not only dangerous, but justifiable reasons for revolution. The following three films of the 60s speak to that concept in different ways, all effectively. Not only that, they are simply great movies.



Victim (1961, Basil Dearden)

British director Basil Dearden deserves kudos for this brave film, as does every actor who chose to appear in it. While today a film featuring homosexuality is near commonplace (after all, The Kids Are All Right received an Academy Award Best Picture nomination), but in 1961, it was not only unheard of, but homosexuality was illegal. The film centers on a successful barrister who is targeted for blackmail, along with several of other homosexual men in England. Some of the targeted men pay the blackmail money, while some die, either by their own hand or through shock-related heart attack, but Melville Farr, the barrister, decides to stand up and fight. Unfortunately, as some of us liberals usually do, people have blasted the film for using a single instance of the word, “invert,” not being able to look past it at the larger picture of civil rights and social justice. I had a friend at one time who used to call films like this part of a pattern of “smear the queer,” citing films such as American Beauty as examples.

The argument comes with systematic and incremental change versus larger, loftier, hopeful, and commendable goals. I am not often pegged as a realist. Rather, I am usually seen as a dreamer, as one who votes for social change, who teaches multiple perspectives, and embraces diversity. However, I see Victim as being a dramatic example in the quest for progress. Though a policeman, who helps Melville Farr with his fight against the blackmailers, says he has no feelings, he also claims that the anti-gay laws are a problem and only fodder for blackmailers. With every social cause, we may never reach 100% satisfaction across the board, but eventually, progress always prevails. Even with racial hatred rampant in this country, we have an African-American President. Gay marriage now has over 50% support among the population. Change happens, but sometimes it happens slower than some of us would like.

Dirk Bogarde is brilliant in his portrayal of Melville Farr, and his supporting cast is equally terrific. One aspect of Victim that I applaud is his avoidance of stereotype. In fact, Dearden reserves the stereotypical qualities of homosexuality for the blackmailer, in an ironic twist. The blackmailer, usually seen with motorcycle goggles on, is catty, coy, and feminine, while Farr and the rest of the blackmailed are everything but. The blackmailer further is seen throwing a wild punch at a speed bag to overtly show his “machismo,” which could be seen as a cover-up, and has a framed representation of Michelangelo’s “David” on his wall. Within six years, British Parliament decriminalized homosexuality, and I would guess that Victim played no small part.



I Am Cuba (1964, Mikhail Kalatozov)

Just a few short years after the Cuban Revolution, Russian filmmakers partnered with the Cubans to produce a film promoting Socialism. I Am Cuba is the result, a spectacular film with amazing visuals, striking messages, and a strong social conscience. Interestingly, both the Russians and the Cubans were dissatisfied with the result, and it’s difficult to see why, considering the remarkable finished product. The film deserves far more credit than it gets, only having recently been given more cachet by Martin Scorsese and his support for it. The first noticeable thing about the film is its astounding photography. The opening shots, with the camera sitting low in a boat, is only the first of a series of unbelievably artful shots. As we travel downriver, we see the peasants of Cuba, working and struggling. This is then immediately juxtaposed with an affluent, rooftop party, complete with rock and roll music, swimsuit models, high-class hotels, swimming pools, and a masterful elevator shot to go along with it. The effect is not only stunning visually, but emotionally, as we see the stark gap in wealth. Sound familiar?

So far, several of the shots in I Am Cuba have been extraordinarily long takes, rivaling Hitchcock’s work in Rope and Scorsese’s later opening to Goodfellas. Seconds later, we are introduced to the stereotypical “Ugly American.” A trio of visiting businessmen reveal their hubris, amorality, and lack of sensitivity as they hold court in a Cuban bar. They indulge in prostitutes, one of whom is a poor innocent, forced into the trade due to poverty. The resulting actions of the Americans are representative of American policy toward Cuba as a whole. They come in, violate its people, and dismiss its values and religion in the name of greed. The second vignette only reinforces that idea, showing Pedro, a peasant farmer, who loses everything when the plantation owner sells the land to United Fruit. A third story gets more at the heart of the revolutionary ideal in following a student who wants to contribute to the cause. As an added bonus, this story has the most striking visuals of all, even featuring camera movements that seem absolutely impossible, going seamlessly up into the air, onto roofs of buildings, in through a window of a cigar factory, then out another window and hovering over a crowd, all without cutting. Even after hearing how they did it, it still seems impossible.

There is an intensity to I Am Cuba, an intensity that some would call propaganda, but I would call artistic representation of ideas. Is there a difference? Debatable. Regardless of your politics, I Am Cuba is an effective and striking film that deserves to be seen. It is not easy to speak truth to power, and I Am Cuba does it with flair and impeccable style.



Closely Watched Trains (1966, Jiří Menzel)

This beautiful film, based on a book by Bohumil Hrabal, is a revelation. At its heart a coming-of-age story, it is also a story of revolution and of resistance. From the very beginning, this movie is captivating. Every shot is efficiently chosen and immaculate. One can’t help but notice how clean and beautiful every shot truly is. We are introduced to Milos, the naïf we will be following through his journey. He comes from a long line of people who were able to get by doing very little and retiring early, who all shared the ignominious trait of dying early as well. Milos purposefully chooses a profession that will allow him to avoid real work, that of a train signalman. Milos is in love with the female conductor and longs for an adult, romantic life. All this is set amongst the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia, but finds economy and humor amidst such terrible times. One example is the scene of the stationmaster’s wife suggestively forcing food down a goose’s gullet as she is asked about sex.

Milos is given advice by his coworker, the more experienced Lothario-like Hubička. Hubička, in particular, provides several humorous scenes provide lightness to balance the fear, angst, and uncertainty. But, the seriousness breaks through. Despondent over a premature incident with his love, Máša, Milos attempts suicide. The balance of economic language and imagery, pathos, humor, and stark reality remind me of Wes Anderson. Closely Watched Trains is almost a prototype of Anderson’s eventual oeuvre. There is even one more filmic hallmark that seemed to be taken from this movie, which is the “walking / gliding dolly shot” that is now a trademark of Spike Lee’s films. This can be seen in Milos’ trip to the doctor.

Hubička inspires Milos to become part of the underground uprising against the Nazis. Máša is understanding of Milos’s problem and wants to give their relationship another try. In other words, things begin to look as if they will work out for our young hero. I won’t give away the ending, but it is at once heroic, tragic, devastating, glorious, heartbreaking, and miraculous. Throughout the film, an aging signalman echoes the sentiment that church bells are the most beautiful sound in the world. The last scene, that seems to bookend nearly every stray literary idea, makes the older signalman’s statement a reality, and in truly emotional fashion. Closely Watched Trains is now easily one of my favorite films of all time.