The FilmNerds Blog

The Movie:                Junebug

Spoiler Level:             Zero point Zero

The Setup: Madeleine is an arts dealer living in Chicago with her new husband, George.  Madeleine plans a trip to North Carolina in order to convince an obscure artist to allow her to showcase his art.  This artist just happens to live very close to George’s hometown.  Madeleine and George have only been married 6 months and she has never met his family.  Madeleine is a naturally friendly and easy-going woman, and it certainly provides an interesting scenario when the groom’s family meets their new daughter-in-law well after the wedding for the very first time. While in North Carolina, the family attends a church potluck where everyone knows George and was already aware of his return home.  At the potluck, Madeleine seems taken aback when a young pastor prays with the family and it proves to only confound her more when she sees how easily and unashamedly George fits back in; bowing his head.  The pastor then asks George to sing in front of the rest of the congregation the hymn, “Softly and Tenderly”.  Shyly at first, George agrees without much hesitation.

The Scene:

Why It’s Great:
Madeleine hears the minister’s request that George sing in front of the crowd.  She watches the exchange at first with a look of mild and humorous curiosity as if she is a bit confused as to why they would ask George, her husband, to sing a hymn.  However, as George begins to sing, Madeleine’s look of curiosity turns into an intense and focused glare of someone returning home, as it were, with a feeling that something is not how they left it.  The half-smile Madeleine had at first is gone and in its place is the stone-cold face of a woman who is seeing her husband for the very first time.  Perhaps she was unaware of his musical talents.  Perhaps she was unaware of him being religious.  Perhaps it was the ease with which George steps right back into the stride of the way of life of his family and the people of his hometown.  By Madeleine’s reaction, one that is itself worth a million lines of dialogue, we are given the impression that Madeleine is realizing that she met, fell in love with and married a completely different George than the one singing at present.  Yet, by its conclusion, Madeleine is sincerely impressed and made happy by what she has just witnessed.  Whether it’s his musical talents, his religious feelings or just maybe because she finally feels like she has caught a glimpse of the real George, she is proud and content; joining the rest of the congregation in applause.

We are all born and grow up and are fashioned into something that has a hint or flavor of our original environment.  We all change when we leave home and become what we think is our true selves. Eventually, we return home again and feel that natural pull guiding us back to what we once were.  Some fight it, but George doesn’t.  He doesn’t give in completely, but he’s home and it is a part of who he was or is and he doesn’t fight it.  He’s not being fake.  He’s being himself or what his self was at one point in time and Madeleine, a big-city arts dealer, understands that and accepts it.

I shouldn’t close without mentioning the beautiful symbolism that the lyrics of the hymn provide:

Come home, come home,

Ye who are weary, come home;

Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,

Calling, O sinner, come home!

The Movie: Fargo (1996)

Spoiler Level: Moderate

The Setup: Brainerd Police Department Officer Olson (Cliff Rakerd) arrives at the residence of Eklund & Swedlund’s bartender Mr. Mohra (Bain Boehlke) on a gray day in Minnesota while investigating the recent interstate murders of a state trooper and a teenage couple. In a single two-minute shot, Mohra politely recounts to Officer Olson an encounter with a “kinda funny-lookin’” little fella (Steve Buscemi) who was looking to get set up with a prostitute, noting he was “goin’ crazy out there at the lake,” while also bragging about murdering “the last guy who thought he was a jerk.” Figuring it might be related to the homicides his wife heard about in Brainerd, Mohra thinks it might help with the investigation.

Why it’s Great: For me, this scene best reflects the “Minnesota Nice” motif writer/directors Joel and Ethan Coen introduce in their black comedy masterpiece, my favorite of their films. The film puts on a clinic when it comes to taking full advantage of the sense of place the filmmakers come to fully realize, perfectly utilizing the regional dialect and decency of its all-too-real characters, namely the unassuming citizens of Minnesota.

Unassuming as they may be, these proud Minnesotans are not to be dismissed by the likes of Buscemi’s scummy Carl Showalter who seemingly feels above the area and thinks he can literally get away with murder. What he fails to assume is that folks like Officer Olson (and Brainerd Police Chief Marge Gunderson, played by Oscar-winner Frances McDormand) are doing their jobs, and citizens like Mr. Mohra are going to help them do so to preserve their safe and proud quality of life.

Beyond the scene’s direct relation to the Coens’ plot, I love it for the sake of the slice of freezing but pleasant Minnesota life you get from Officer Olsen and Mr. Mohra, the latter of whom is sweeping wet snow from his driveway with a push-broom. They’re pleasant to one another regardless of the fact that they’ve never met, and not just in your average cordial way. They’re just naturally inclined to be friendly, and it’s unfortunate that something so grisly happens in their universe. But again, they’ll see that it doesn’t continue with thorough police work, from law enforcement and the community.

Even after they finish the business at hand, Mohra immediately transitions into weather discussion, a go-to topic any of us use to avoid awkward silence. But in his case, it sounds genuine. “Looks like she’s gonna turn cold tomorrow,” Mohra says, to which Officer Olson replies, “Oh yeah, gotta front comin’ in.”

“Yeah, you got that right,” Mohra then says, as the two men part ways and almost continue as if nothing ever happened.

Again, with these wonderful performances from Rakerd and Boehlke (in what I believe to be the greatest acting ensemble ever assembled) and the wintry Minnesota backdrop, the Coens never better exploit this exceptional and wholly tangible sense of place they created in the blissfully freezing Fargo.

THE SETUP: Troubled teenager Garry (Joaquin Phoenix) summons the courage to ask his mother Helen (Dianne Wiest) permission to call his estranged father and ask if he can move in with him for a few months. Although Helen tries to persuade Garry not to follow through, she reluctantly gives Garry his father’s work-number, which he immediately dials. Within seconds, Garry’s excitement over the possibility of being reunited with his dad transforms into heartbreak. Helen can only sit back and watch as her son learns a painful life lesson about love and expectations.

THE SCENE:

WHY IT’S GREAT: Ron Howard’s box office hit dramedy Parenthood examines a group of families attempting to persevere amidst the unavoidable challenges and tragedies that are always eventually guaranteed by the decision to create life. Of course, that’s a pretty grim assessment of the movie’s overall theme, since most people associate the movie with Steve Martin making balloon animals while dressed like a cowboy. Although the movie is indeed laced with enough memorable humor to justify its categorization as a comedy, this scene – which exists at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum – k  always stands out for me.

Of course the heart and soul of the scene lies in the performance of the then-15 year-old Joaquin Phoenix. The young actor triumphs with his ability to create such a realistic sense of vulnerability. Then there’s Dianne Wiest, whose work in this commercially-accessible “hit” equals that found in the movies for which she won Academy Awards. Wiest must do two things at once: A) She expresses the penetrating sadness a mother must feel when her son tells her he wants to leave her household. B) She summons the strength to allow her son to take a chance that, although she knows will result in defeat, she knows he must take if he wants to actually learn something about the sometimes-harsh realities of life.

Fortunately, Garry later gets the father figure he so deeply desires, albeit in the unlikely form of Todd, played by Keanu Reeves in one of the warmest, most-underrated performances of his career.

I was 7 years old when this movie was initially released, and – at the time – my parents wouldn’t let me see it. I didn’t understand, since the previews offered the aforementioned hilarity of Steve Martin in a cowboy suit. Of course, I now see why they wanted me to wait a little while to see Parenthood. Although laugh-inducing comedy pervades throughout, the movie contains some of the most genuine portrayals of what it really means to be part of a family that we’ve ever seen in cinema. For me, this scene supports that idea.

The Movie: Superman III (1983)

Spoiler Level: High (But it’s Superman III, so who cares?)

The Setup: You have three options here, in regards to what you need to know before watching the scene. You can take my plot summary, which will follow below. You could also watch Superman III. Or, you could go listen to Earwolf’s Superman III episode of “How Did This Get Made“, guest-hosted by Damon Lindelof. I’d highly recommend this podcast, and especially this episode. They sum up the folly of this movie, which was the humorous Richard Lester deconstructionist Superman take-down that nobody on planet Earth was asking for.

Basically, up to this point, the film has been a Richard Pryor comedy vehicle that takes place in Superman’s Metropolis. Being some sort of idiot savant computer genius, Pryor’s Gus is helping a megalomaniac corner the world’s coffee markets, and has discovered a way to keep Superman from meddling. By creating a synthetic black kryptonite and HANDING IT to Superman, they give the Man of Steel a kind of viral schizophrenia, as he begins to exhibit signs of a dark side. Succumbing to his evil side, Superman not only makes inappropriate sexual advances towards Lana Lang, but he successfully beds the villain’s girlfriend and gets hammered in a dingy bar.

In this scene, the evil and unshaven Dark Superman is having mental agitation, and escapes to a solitary junk yard to hash it out with… himself?!?

The Scene:  Click Here for Youtube (No Embedding Allowed)

Why It’s Great: Somehow, despite all attempts at letting broad comedy reign supreme in what is ostensibly a children’s film, Richard Lester managed to craft the most weighty, dark, and dramatic fight scene in the entire Superman  movie franchise. That’s right, I find this to be a more harrowing and high-stakes fight than the super-brawl at the end of Superman II. First off, the tone here is deadly serious. Dark Superman lands and gives a primal scream that empties the facility. A minimal score follows, never getting in the way of the creepy conflict at the center of the scene: Clark Kent materializes out from Dark Superman, and the fight begins immediately, with Dark Superman scoffing and beating the snot out of Clark. This might be Christopher Reeve’s high point in the series as well, as he gets the chance to play a cocky maniac and a scrappy underdog all in the same scene. Reeve evokes Michael Keaton’s “You wanna get nuts” freak-out from Batman, and his Dark Superman is unrelenting in his cruelty and malice here.

Full disclosure: I have watched Superman III more than any other Superman film. I suspect my dad got a kick out of the Richard Pryor stuff when I was a kid, so this was the Superman movie he rented most often. That, or it must have been super cheap to syndicate and was on television a lot. Regardless, the rest of the movie always confused and disturbed me, especially the aforementioned super-villainess tryst and a later moment in which a woman is violently turned into a cyborg.

This scene, however, was pure Superman goodness. About four minutes in, after using some creative practical effects and stuntwork to convey Clark’s beat-down, Lester brings things to a head as Clark is horribly crushed in a trash compactor. Everything is silent for a moment as the victorious Dark Superman stumbles away in a drunken haze, before the trash compactor BURSTS open as Clark bench presses the damn thing apart. This is only one of two great moments in which Clark bursts out of a trash compactor. Eventually, Clark overpowers Dark Superman and eventually CHOKES HIM TO DEATH WITH HIS BARE HANDS. The scene culminates at seven minutes as Dark Superman disappears and Clark reclaims his true identity: He stands up, the John Williams score begins, and he rips open his shirt, revealing a pristine Superman logo. With the theme soaring, Superman flies off to save the world.

Too bad everything after that is baffling. However, for one scene, Superman was at his very best: Fighting not only the injustices of the world around him, but his own demons and identity issues. I’m sure Lester was trying to get at some deeper truth here, but assumedly the script, the intent of the producers, and his own disinterest in the material were working against the film. Let’s hope that some day, we’ll get a cinematic Superman that matches the grit and gravitas that Reeves showed us here.

The Movie: Mulholland Drive (2001)

Spoiler Level: Low

The Setup: Two guys are sitting in a café.  With great trepidation, Guy #1 recounts to Guy #2 the details of a horrific, recurring nightmare that has haunted him.  This nightmare not only occurs at the very café where the scene takes place, but stars both individuals.  Guy #1, unable to shake the horrible feeling he’s had from the nightmare, has brought Guy #2 to help alleviate his fears.  Guy #2 is slightly humored by the retelling of the nightmare as well as by Guy #1’s actual fear of it coming to fruition.  After Guy #1’s account of his nightmare it indeed begins to play out as he described.  Guy #2 pays the bill and they leave the café; all in accordance with the dream.  However, Guy #1, as he stated earlier, knows that there is something or someone very horrible behind the building.  Both individuals make a slow walk outside toward the back of the café even though Guy #1 knows it is hidden there looming.  Everything else has gone according to the nightmare, yet they make their slow death march in the direction where the evil resides.  You can see the hesitance and dread in Guy #1’s manner, but determined he treads on.  All the while the eerie score of Angelo Badalamenti helps to set the mood and the occasional first-person camera angle adds to the effect.  The editing cuts from Guys to dumpster seem to lengthen the scene and strengthen the suspense.

The Scene:

Why It’s Great: The scene as a whole comes out of nowhere and has very little to do with the rest of the film.  Mulholland Drive is an enigma in and of itself and this particular scene only adds to the mystery.  It comes a few minutes into the film and has absolutely nothing to do with anything that has happened up to that point.  It takes you completely by surprise.  The audience is not expecting a scary scene at this point.

David Lynch takes Hitchcock’s “Bomb-Under-the-Table” theory and merges both the surprise and suspense elements.  The audience is experiencing the effects of both aspects of this theory.

• Suspense: We know what’s going to happen because Guy #1 told us.  The viewer can either believe it, like Guy #1 or can be skeptical, like Guy #2.  Either way, you’ve got some idea of what may or may not happen.  The description of the nightmare and the long walk to the back perfectly captures the suspense.
• Surprise: The fact that we have been told what is about to happen in no way weakens the scare.  In fact, I wager that it increases the scenes potency.  The suspense is true, but when the time comes for the payoff, no matter how ready we think we are, it still takes us completely by surprise.

The great acting by Patrick Fischler, the creepy, ambient score and editing of the walk to the back make this an incredible scene and one that I will never forget.

The Movie: Swingers (1996)

Spoiler Level: High

The Setup: After a night of barhopping in Hollywood, three friends end up at a diner for some late-night breakfast. Throughout the film, the hero Mike (Jon Favreau) struggles to hit his stride with the ladies. However, on this particular night, Mike managed to make a connection with a ‘beautiful baby’ (Heather Graham) he met and danced with at the storied Brown Derby nightclub. When Mike’s friends Sue (Patrick Van Horn) and the drunken Trent (Vince Vaughn) attempt to offer him additional advice on how to handle the new situation, Mike refuses it, confidently declaring “I have it under control.” This ignites a wild burst of emotion in Trent, who explodes into a rowdy exaltation of his friend who, until this point, needed all the help he could get.

Why It’s Great: Like many scenes in Swingers, this one initially seems to be about Mike… but soon becomes (thanks to Trent) all about TRENT… at least that’s how it may superficially appear.

While Trent does, thanks to his state of inebriation, become the center of attention, his attention happens to be solely focused on Mike. Throughout the movie, Trent takes numerous opportunities to offer Mike romantic advice and urges him to be more confident in his romantic endeavors. At times his efforts seem futile, but that doesn’t deter him from believing in Mike and continuing to encourage him.

In this scene, When Mike says (and means) that he has things “under control,” Trent believes him, and his overflowing sense of joy bursts out in a display of unadulterated emotion. I might liken it to how a little-league baseball coach feels when, after weeks or perhaps months of frustrating instruction, a player who might have seemed hopeless finally figures out how to correctly throw the ball.

Men are, at their core, competitive beings. This scene illustrates the fact that men are also capable of deriving joy not only from their own success, but also from the success of others. Trent is genuinely happy for Mike; so much so that the only way he can think of to express it is via the borderline-primal act of jumping on top of a table, yelling, and discarding items of his clothing.

When I saw this scene for the first time, I got so caught up in its intense, comedic spontaneity that I failed to recognize how it movingly defines the relationship between the movie’s two heroes. In a broader sense, it illustrates a basic human trait that defines the progress that the human race managed to make between the eras of pre-civilization and civilization itself: the ability to root for one another.

“Yeahhh! Dig that!”

The Movie: The Jerk (1979)

Spoiler Level: Moderate

The Setup:  While working a kiddie ride at a carnival, the imbecilic Navin Johnson (Steve Martin) meets Marie (Bernadette Peters), a charming and attractive woman with whom he’d fall in love. After the two hit it off on a couple of dates, they take a moonlit stroll across a beach while singing a due t, called “Tonight, You Belong to Me, together before sitting at a campfire, finishing their song and sharing their first kiss.

Why It’s Great: Martin and director Carl Reiner’s ridiculously absurd R-rated comedy rarely gives us a genuine moment that isn’t meant to just make us laugh or shake our heads, but we’re offered a few that at least provoked another emotional response from me. The first is during Navin’s birthday when his adoptive father gives him his Zippo lighter he’s had since the war, and the second is this sweet moment shared between Navin and Marie on the beach that I still find genuinely romantic.

Up to and after this point, we get a straight broad (but brilliant) comedy about this man born a poor black child without any hint of humanity or tenderness, but for whatever reason, Reiner takes a break from the lunacy for a moment that rivals any of what we consider film’s greatest love stories.

Navin might be a jerk, but he isn’t capable of a disingenuous act or feeling. As he plays his ukelele and walks along the shore with the woman of his dreams, we see this film stripped down to its core, losing its inane and often crude tone. We get to watch our hero, a nice guy, enjoy an evening with his girl. It’s the only honest moment of the film, one where Martin seems out of character, but this is exactly who Navin is.

With that, we’re also treated to a beautiful song sung by Martin and Peters, two talented musicians in their own right, softly punctuated with Martin’s ukelele. Of course, Reiner can’t help himself, letting Peters whip out a trumpet for a quick solo to finish the song. Once they finish their duet, Martin tells Peters he wanted to go through end of her horn and through every last tunnel in it until he found the other end and kissed her.

When Navin makes his move, there’s another silly moment as Peters attempts to avoid the smooch at all costs, fearing she will fall in love with him if they share the embrace. But she gives in, and seals their perfect evening with something Navin deserves for just being a nice guy.

The Movie: The Transformers: The Movie (1986)

Spoiler Level: Moderate to High

The Setup: After a deadly attack on the Autobots’ base on Earth and a fateful showdown with Optimus Prime, the mortally wounded Deception leader Megatron drifts through empty abyss of deep space to die along with his fallen minions. Soon, Megatron floats into the path of the colossal and all-powerful planet-eating Unicron (voiced by Orson Welles in his final film role; yes, THAT Orson Welles!), who tells the Transformer he’s been summoned for “a purpose.” Unicron offers him and his cronies new bodies and weapons and commands them to help him destroy the Autobot Matrix of Leadership, the one thing that can stand in the planet-gorger’s way. After some resistance, the ego-maniacal Megatron accepts Unicron’s proposition and undergoes his final transformation into the Autobot nemesis Galvatron.

Why It’s Great: My fellow Film Nerds understand, and in some cases share, my deep affinity for Nelson Shin’s TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE, the 1986 film adaptation of the beloved television series (ahem, and toy line), which I personally feel has stood the test of time and remained a masterpiece.

My film nerd compadres should also know I’m a basketball nut, and I recently noticed the oddest parallel while reflecting on the 2010-11 NBA season. As many know, two-time MVP LeBron James opted for free agency last summer and joined his buddy Dwyane Wade at the Miami Heat, who subsequently reached the finals and lost to the Dallas Mavericks (go Mavs).

Looking back, the pairing got me thinking about this scene from Transformers, and I’ll tell you why. The basketball world was curious about James’ decision to join the Heat, forming what many considered a “super-team” with the likes of Wade and all-star free agent Chris Bosh. Most thought James might stay in Cleveland or join squads that just made more sense from a basketball and financial standpoint, like Chicago or New York.

But it turns out the guy wanted to take his talents to South Beach and play with his buddies.

Lurking in the shadows in all this is Wade, the former finals MVP turned recruiter. Somehow, Wade managed to convince one all-star and arguably the best player alive to join him to win not five, not six, not even…you get the point. The critics tore into LeBron, calling him a quitter, a guy who couldn’t lead a team to glory on his own. He had to take the easy way out and join a cold-blooded killer on the court like Wade to get it done.

So that got me thinking about the conversation that took place between Wade and James and whatever methods the Miami superstar used to sway the “king.” All I could think about was Unicron and Megatron’s first meeting. LeBron, the self-proclaimed “chosen one,” was the new savior of the NBA, a Michael Jordan/Magic Johnson hybrid that would dominate for years to come. Nobody ever doubted LeBron’s talent and sheer physical domination of his opponents. But he lacked a key ingredient that makes champions of these men: the killer instinct. Jordan had it. Magic had it. Larry Bird had it. Kobe Bryant has it. And Wade has it.

From my perspective, Wade played the best psychological game in this free agency free-for-all period and recruited LeBron like no one else could. He convinced LeBron the Heat would be his team and that he would the credit as the player who led them to the promise land. But Wade is an evil genius. Already an NBA champ, he new the media would perceive whatever success LeBron and the Heat achieved as a result of pairing with a winner like Wade who could take over when LeBron couldn’t. What kind of sway, or control, does Wade have over LeBron? Should we believe this idea that these guys are really good friends and wanted to win together? Why didn’t LeBron want to win it on his own?

Either way, that got me thinking about this scene and how that meeting might have gone down. Below is a little dialogue that I think might have prefaced Wade’s final pitch/command to LeBron, which finally convinced him to take his talents to South Beach.

Unicron/Wade: I have summoned you here for a purpose…

Megatron/LeBron: Nobody summons Megatron!

Unicron/Wade: Then it pleases me to be the first.

Megatron/LeBron: State your business…

Unicron/Wade: This is my command…

…And lo, the Miami Heat as we know it were born.

Beyond whatever went down in the NBA, let us praise Shin, writer Ron Friedman and composer Vince DiCola for creating an unforgettably ominous mood that has stuck with me since early childhood.

The moments between Megatron and Unicron are appropriately menacing, these quips between dueling cybertronic archvillains. But what sells this whole sequence is the actual transformation from Megatron into Galvatron, this birth of a new Autobot enemy. DiCola absolutely murders it, along with the animators, as we see a villain we’ve grown so familiar with find a way to unfairly extend his life after our hero has lost his and become even younger and more powerful.

Call me crazy (and I know plenty of you will for this), but this scene brings rich and sophisticated dialogue complete with high stakes that I feel like Orson Welles was proud to deliver, albeit in a kitschy way. The man never really sat out on a performance, not even this one. And I’m sure he’s as pleased as I am that he book-ended his career with Citizen Kane and Transformers: The Movie.

The Movie: Back to the Future (1985)

Spoiler Level: VERY High

The Setup: Marty McFly’s (Michael J. Fox) carefully laid plans to stage a romantic meet cute for his future parents, thereby assuring his own existence, have gone awry thanks to über-bully Biff (Thomas F. Wilson). Now instead of finding a play-acting Marty in the car with Lorraine (Lea Thompson), George McFly (Crispin Glover) swings open the door to find his much-larger and very hostile archnemesis waiting for him.

Why It’s Great: As the scene begins, George is already dealing with frayed nerves and isn’t sure if he’s going to be able to pull off his mock-heroics. But something happens on George’s face right around the 30 second mark of the clip. His fear washes away and the genuine courage that’s always been hiding within him starts to come out, as such things always do in moments of crisis. George’s original destiny was to fall into Lorraine’s lap, winning her over with sympathy and pity. But Marty’s tampering with the space-time continuum has opened up an opportunity for things to emerge in George that may never have otherwise.

Alan Sylvestri’s horror-esque cue at :51 highlights the incredible danger George has thrust himself into. He is meddling in territory that perhaps destiny never intended for him. But the ideas of destiny and predetermined futures are questioned and challenged throughout Back to the Future and here George takes the ultimate stand not just against Biff but against the cosmic forces of fate that seemed to be conspiring against him his whole life. George’s defiantly clenched fist at 1:25 marks the first time that a character in the film stops intentionally trying to re-create the way things have always been and instead take destiny into their own hands.

Everyone is stunned, Biff, Marty, Lorraine, even George. Everything we’ve been told by Doc Brown, Principle Strickland and our experience in the original 1985 has just been thrown out the window. We know from Doc Brown’s expository speeches that with that punch, George has not just changed the course of his life. He has changed, in some small way, the entirety of the space-time continuum. Sylvestri’s musical cue at 1:58 reflects that this moment is both a crucial personal moment for the two characters but also a seismic, cosmically relevant event. Similar themes were explored recently by no less than Terrence Malick in the sometimes impenetrable Tree of Life, but here Robert Zemeckis and Bob Gale’s beautiful, economical screenplay are able to convey that theme in an action entertainment film. The idea that everyone and everything we do matters at least in a tiny way on a grand scale is a comforting thought. It reassures us that we are more than dots on a rock floating through the universe. We each have a purpose in life and what Back to the Future suggests is that while our destiny may appear set in stone, we have it within us all to determine our own purpose.

The Movie: Notorious

Spoiler Level: VERY High

The Setup: Devlin (Cary Grant) has recruited Alicia (Ingrid Bergman) as a subversive seductress in a plot to find weapons hidden by a gang of escaped Nazis, led by Alex Sebastian (Claude Raines). Suspecting her true allegiance, Sebastian and his mother (Leopoldine Konstantin) begin to quietly poison Alicia. In the final scene of the film, Devlin overcomes his distaste for Alicia’s past and the obligations of his job to save her from the den of vipers… all during a meeting with Sebastian’s associates. Please, please, PLEASE do not watch this scene if you haven’t seen Notorious. Go watch the movie TONIGHT if you haven’t seen it. I’m even okay with you watching the YouTube bootleg, if you promise to pick up the eventual blu-ray.

Why It’s Great: Like all great suspense directors, Alfred Hitchcock seems to have a single goal with his entire visual approach to this story: Get us to the final shot. The final shot of Notorious is one of the most loaded in all of cinema – it starts close on Alex, hearing the Nazis call him back to the house. He turns, the camera remains still, looking at the silhouetted monsters in the mansion door. As Alex schleps to his ultimate fate, the camera slowly starts pushing in, not resting until Alex is in the house, and the door closes. The score seals the deal, rushing to a climax on the fade to black after the door closes. What a lingering image!

Imagine if the movie had closed with Hitchcock cutting to Devlin and Alicia in the car. Yes, it would have kept our perspective with the heroes, and would have assured us that Alicia would be okay, but it would completely undermine the cyclical drama necessary to bring Alex’s story to a close. All that’s important is that Alicia is safe, and Alex is about to be dealt with. End of story.

While this shot is an absolute work-horse, I don’t want to short-change the shot selection in the rest of the scene, which starts with a dreamy, long dolly move mimicking Grant’s return to the fevered Bergman. That shot continues until we leave the bedroom, all in a close single or a close two-shot, on a long lens. I wring my hands with empathy for the production’s worn-out focus puller. In fact, the long close-up is a staple of Notorious, which is famous for one of cinema’s most extended kisses, all shot in an intimate CU. Once the characters leave the bedroom, we get what is one of the most marvelous series of moving close-ups I can recall. How the camera glides down those steps, always effortlessly cutting between the characters, is beyond me. Despite the technical proficiency of his shot series, Hitchcock never once loses grip on the scene itself. He sticks to strict perspective, setting up a new perspective only when absolutely necessary, and with a strong cut-in (for example, the close-up on the apparent lead Nazi).

A lot of my affection for the scene is for its technical merits, but I really shouldn’t forget about the performances. Grant is steely as always, but the real stars here are Bergman and Rains. Bergman spends much of the film as a proud, aggressive wild child, flaunting her party girl past and locking up her feelings. Here she is to be pitied, but also admired, allowing her salvation to happen gracefully. It’s hard not to fall in love with Ingrid Bergman in general, but this one of her most dynamic mainstream performances. Rains, from the moment his Alex sees Devlin extracting Alicia, clearly communicates his motivation – “Get me the flip away from all those Nazis.” The aforementioned look on his face at the start of the film’s final shot is the linchpin of the scene, and therefore, the movie.

Again, I would be remiss not to repeatedly point out that the entire movie drives toward this scene, in which all the wistful character trajectories intersect and resolve. Rarely do we get that kind of efficiency in movies anymore, least of all spy thrillers. The final scene (and shot) of any suspense movie should be the spire of the palace, its absence completely invalidating the foundation set beneath it.