Rob Caravaggio Commentaries

The dark knight rises...

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Let's call this episode "The Roger Ebert Memorial Commentary." The prolific critic felt No Country for Old Men was as good as any picture made by the Coens (and in the very next clause he warmed my heart by adding, "and they made Fargo.") Still giddy from a recent revival screening, I quit swooning long enough to explicate a lot of what makes this movie so great. I describe the skillful visual storytelling techniques, the strange deja vu structure, and the philosophical concerns found in the works of both the Coens and Cormac McCarthy. I sing the praises of Woody Harrelson, too. Then, after taking some of the more asinine criticisms and interpretations to task, I get around to articulating my own reading of the film (sort of). This one's for Roger.

Listen to the mp3. Or get the track at the gettin' place, iTunes.

The old noir trope of putting a Chandler and a Wilder on a loveseat...

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We continue down the noir path with a lively dissection of Billy Wilder's Double Indemnity. Right from the start I cop to being in love with nearly every aspect of the film, particularly its three leads. Although I lack the suave drollness of Walter Neff, I make up for it by telling a few charming tales about the film's production and the testy relations between Wilder and Chandler. You'll hear me explain why the boss of the insurance company, Mr. Norton, reminds me of Principal Ed Rooney from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. There is then some wondering out loud as to whether the film actually has something serious to say about the issue of nepotism-versus-meritocracy in WWII-era America. Though I giggle Walter's flurry of sexual innuendos, I don't try to come up with any myself.

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Little known fact: when he was in grad school, Dr. Ian Malcolm was friends with Tony Lacey

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Recently, Turner Classic Movies aired Annie Hall, and I was reminded of just how extraordinary a picture it is—a romantic comedy that's exceedingly romantic and funny. This commentary was inevitable. As you watch Alvy's hangups doom his love life, you'll hear me marvel at the film's wildness, the way it breaks every rule. Along the way, I explain how Ralph Rosenblum and Gordon Willis influenced Allen's artistic vision, why the film's non-chronological structure works so well, and the background on Marshall McLuhan's cameo. Freud gets discussed, as does Shelly Duvall.

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The "self portrait" of Kitty March, Joan Bennett's fast-talking femme fatale who steals Edward G. Robinson's heart in Fritz Lang's film noir, Scarlet Street 

RC-2013-108: The Film Noir Series—Scarlett Street (1945)

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Ask a person to name her five favorite Fritz Lang films, and you're not likely to hear Scarlet Street. Yet it has all we've come to love about Lang—and about film noir. Inside the dusty B-movie packaging we find a big star, Edward G. Robinson, playing somewhat against type as a meek cashier named Chris Cross. As we watch the noir vortex suck him in, my heavily shadowed commentary addresses the ongoing debate over film noir's definition, the way Fritz Lang utilizes his roots in German expressionism, and the snappy dialogue of Dudley Nichols' screenplay. I'm also able to put my love of the film aside long enough to discuss the fascinating life and career of Robinson and the even more fascinating life of Joan Bennett, the femme fatale who would see life dangerously imitate art only a few years later. You have my permission to pronounce "film noir" any way you like. To sync up, hit "pause" just after the old Universal logo fades away and the "Walter Wanger Presents" title card takes over the screen.

F.Y.I., This film belongs to the public domain. It may therefore be downloaded, legally, with impunity.

Listen to the mp3. Or get it at iTunes, for cat's sake...

Marlon Brando getting his Don makeup on while Francis Ford Coppola waits patiently for his nemesis, Popeye, to show up

RC-2013-107: The Godfather (1972)

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When e-mailer Tomy suggested a few films that might be ripe for a commentary, The Godfather was the one that lept out at me most. It seems there's actually quite a lot to say about the movie nearly everyone regards as great, so why not give it a Rob Job. (I'm so sorry. I will never say that again.) I discuss how Coppola's uncanny decade (approximately 1970-80) was enabled by the exciting changes happening in American filmmaking from about 1964 to 1980 (a span of years I select arbitrarily), deciding that Coppola and his dream that was American Zoetrope represent  the best characteristics of the so-called Film School Generation. While pointing out the big stuff, like the lovely computerized opening shot and the film's many quotable moments, I also gab about such matters as Michael's bifurcated personality, how Gordy Willis' stark lighting helps highlight the film's handling of gender, and the beautiful way Coppola doesn't "lean into" the many instances of visual symbolism. I also theorize as to why this film has become a synonym for "great movie" and, as is my habit, think out loud about how movies attain the status of classic. At some point, I also prove that I can name all the (fictional) five families of New York, and then I pathetically commend myself for being so perspicacious about trivia. I screened the Blu-Ray of The Godfather while recording the track; to sync up, hit "pause" on your player just after the Paramount logo has faded to black.

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Freddie dreams of Auntie Bertha

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In this special episode, I keep the conversation about The Master going by taking 20 minutes to babble through "Back Beyond," the deleted scenes featurette found on the newly released DVD/Blu-Ray. So, even though we've already enjoyed a spirited commentary track on the film, let's sift through the cutting room floor detritus together. Come on. What bothers you about our travels into the past?!

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Sarah Polley sees no sign of zombies on the set of Take This Waltz

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Sarah Polley's intelligent second film takes its name from a Leonard Cohen song, and speaking in my deepest, most morose voice I explore the really brightly colored poetry of Take This Waltz. Praising Polley's directorial skills, I compare the film to her first feature, Away From Her, and decide that this latest film is refreshing in many ways and slightly missing the mark in others. Before long, I decide I know best about comedians acting in movies, waxing arrogant on the acting of Sarah Silverman and Seth Rogen. The commentary gets weird during an explanation of how handsome men like Luke Kirby learn how to "work that thing" ("that thing" = their handsomeness). Come for the commentary; stay for the dissection of why mere mortal men should not try to pick up women using the rap Luke Kirby's character lays down in the infamous "martini scene." No Canadians were harmed in the recording of this commentary.

Listen to the mp3. Or flirt with those kinky fuckers over at iTunes.

Lisa Cohen, interested in her teacher.

RC-2013-104: Margaret (Extended Cut) (2011)

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It took a while, but Kenneth Lonergan's follow up to You Can Count On Me finally got seen by audiences in 2011. During the marathon commentary (for, Lonergan's extended cut stretches past the three-hour mark), I go into the legal wrangling that delayed the release of Margaret. I comment on the theatrical cut's benefit's and shortcomings before declaring that Lonergan's cut—the film he turned in—is a masterpiece. (Martin Scorsese and Thelma Schoonmaker oversaw the editorial paring-down process that produced the theatrical cut, and though Lonergan ultimately approved, I will argue in this episode, he knew his cut was better.) After pointing out some of the differences between the cuts—which include everything from sound design to score to whole storylines that were excised—I settle into gush mode and praise the film's fresh approach to familiar themes. I spend the rest of the episode (when I'm not sticking up for Anna Paquin) telling the world why Jeannie Berlin's performance may be the most under-appreciated supporting turn in the history of moving pictures. Lonergan himself, playing Lisa Cohen's distant dad, is chubbier than you probably imagined he'd be, and Matt Damon looks younger than you thought he'd look. This movie is weird like that. Grab your popcorn and a diet cola, and settle in—this three-hour urban opera is a doosie... And don't call me honey, okay?

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You have to admit—some of those ink blotches do look sexual

RC-2013-103: The Master (2012)

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Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master will be released on home media later this month—I'm on top of it. After making listeners jealous by bragging about being one of the lucky few who got to see the film projected properly on glorious 70 mm, I heap praise on DP Mihai Malamare for his use of the old-school film stock—the clarity, the depth of field, the rosy red colors of Philip Seymour Hoffman's nose! Noting that many were perplexed by the movie, I go on to explain my pet theories about What It All Means. The commentary spirals into a little bit of love fest, with me ladling more compliments on the casting choices and Anderson's daring, to-hell-with-convention screenwriting. I then go crazy by having the audacity to mildly criticize His Excellency Harvey Weinstein, resigning myself to never working in this town again. Questions addressed include: Which scenes are actually dreams? How old is Amy Adams? Why does Hoffman sing that song to Phoenix at the end? Bottom line, your desire to listen to this commentary track is an intergalactic implant from millions of years ago... Let's have some fun.

To sync up with the commentary, cue up to the start of the movie. Then, hit "pause" just as The Weinstein Company logo fades completely to black, and hit "play" again on my countdown.  

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A girl named Jo is not as weird as a girl named Demi

RC-2013-102: A Few Good Men (1992)

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Dipping into the requests pile (thanks Jeremy), I take on the 1992 Rob Reiner blockbuster A Few Good Men. During the film, I sing the praises of glorious genre of the courtroom drama, comparing Reiner's movie to other specimes like The Caine Mutiny and Anatomy of a Murder, as well as well-structured courtroom comedies like Liar Liar and My Cousin Vinny. Additionally, I riff on the formidable dramatic skills of Kevin Pollak and wade far out of my depth by opining on the differences between civilian and military courts. After ignorantly critiquing the lawyer's legal strategy, I explain my beef with the film's climax and the way Sorkin, who was pretty green as a screenwriter then, sets it up. Even if you hate me and hate everything I say in this commentary, I think you should still give me credit for being the only person on Earth to sit through A Few Good Men without doing a douche-y Jack Nicholson impression.

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