It’s not a bad view, as these things go.

When you’re in the midst of one or another project, you may spare a few thoughts about your year so far.  But those are often based less on how the year is really going than on how that specific thing you’re trying to do is going.  It’s not until the best and worst are actually over that you really know how best and worst they really were.

All of which, of course, is a roundabout way of saying it was a good year.  Sure, there are a few things I wish had turned out differently – that’s just part of being human.  But I’d like to think I learned a few things along the way.  For example, I learned that if you want a good, 21st-century Indiana Jones movie, and you have to choose between the guys who made Raiders of the Lost Ark and the guy who directed that unfortunate remake of The Wolfman, you go with the guy who remade The Wolfman…

I’ve realized that I’m a bit of a rare type.  While I understand the complaints that people often have at year’s end, for me, it’s always a good year for film & TV – first, because any year that gives us a season of Breaking Bad is a great year just by default; and second, because whatever crap is released (or, to borrow from that old saying, escapes) in a given twelve months, there’s always solace in something that came before.  If you were disappointed in Series 6 of Doctor Who, the classic series is waiting for you (check out Day of the Daleks for one great example).  If you’re not thrilled with what the modern action film has become, Pelham One Two Three is there for the taking.  The past more than makes up for the present.

In fact, it’s interesting that among 2011′s new releases, the films that most moved me are the two films that most strongly embraced the past.  Martin Scorsese’s Hugo was kind of glorious, at once a fairy tale, a history lesson, and a love letter/thank-you note for that moment when film became art.  And just as “Uncle Marty” paid tribute to the beginning of the silent era, Michel Hazanavicius gave its end a beautiful elegy in The Artist.  Like Hugo, it’s the kind of film that makes you fall in love with movies all over again (or at least with Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo, who are both wonderful in it).  Someone really needs to put these on a double bill…

So, in retrospect, 2011 was a great year just for what I saw.  And then there’s what I did…

Working alongside Nikki and the PrimaDonna team, I was behind the curtain – literally, by the end – on a pretty eclectic range of projects.  Three Yellow Roses.  Romantic Fools.  The Love List.  Eugene (our SA48HR Film Experience project, which brings us another lesson of the year: The surest way to guarantee rain in San Antonio is to build a film competition around the theme of drought).  And that doesn’t even include the classes and showcases and panels I worked on.

Anybody who really knows me knows that I hold myself to a VERY high standard.  In 2011, like every year, I challenged myself, and so was challenged, to live up to that standard.  I’m not sure I always made it, but I gave it all I had, I learned a hell of a lot in the process, I made some friends along the way, and I’m proud of what I accomplished.  What more can you ask of a year?

As I write this, 2011 has a little under 16 hours left in it.  It’s time to call a wrap on the year and look ahead to 2012.  For my part, I’ll continue to do my part on The Arrangement and all of PrimaDonna’s and Nikki’s projects.  I’m looking forward to starting a couple of projects of my own to bring to them.  And of course, I’ll continue to chronicle the whole thing here – my experiences, my impressions, basically me.

Thanks for following along this year.  It’s been great sharing 2011 with you, and I hope you’ll be around for 2012.

Until then, for a valediction I’ll go back to Warren Zevon’s lyrics, this time from the haunting “Ourselves to Know”:

Now if you make a pilgrimage I hope you find your grail
Be loyal to the ones you leave with even if you fail
Be chivalrous to strangers you meet along the road
As you take that holy ride yourselves to know

And so it was that Christmas Eve found us together, watching Rushmore for the first time.  Though I’ve loved every Wes Anderson film I’ve seen, I’ll admit that I haven’t seen nearly enough of his work to justifiably call myself a fan.  Of course I’ve never let that stop me, but after seeing his second feature, I feel a little more qualified to keep saying it.

Written by Anderson and Owen Wilson (a very underrated writer, I think), 1998′s Rushmore is less a formal narrative than a character sketch, and what a character it gives us.  Max Fischer (Jason Schwartzman) has pulled off a feat you wouldn’t think humanly possible.  At the prestigious Rushmore Academy, he is simultaneously an overachiever and an underachiever, leading the student body in every conceivable extracurricular activity (including many he conceives himself) while his grades bring him to the brink of expulsion.

But as much as he loves the school and fears losing his place in it, Max loves one thing more: his own narrative.  A playwright of insane ambition, or perhaps it’s ambitious insanity, he sees his entire life as a Max Fischer production, and the people in his life as characters to be placed for maximum dramatic impact.  And so the cast of his meta-play comes to include a depressed benefactor (Bill Murray) and a widowed teacher (Olivia Williams) in a triangle that never quite goes where you expect it to go.  Of course, it never quite goes where Max expects it to go either…

One of the first things I noticed about Wes Anderson is the genuine affection he has for his characters.  There are no “good” or “bad” people in a Royal Tenenbaums or a Fantastic Mr. Fox – everyone is complicated and messy and damaged, and even kind of beautiful, and he loves them for all of it.  And so their stories are at once whimsical and melancholy, at once funny and sad, at once slightly edgy and entirely heartfelt.  And never, never are they cynical.

All of that is in place in Rushmore, along with all the other elements that make a Wes Anderson film A Wes Anderson Film.  Clever cinematography and editing, by Anderson regulars Robert Yeoman and David Moritz.  A note-perfect score by Mark Mothersbaugh.  A marvelous gathering of songs, here spotlighting the best of the British Invasion (The Kinks!  Chad & Jeremy!  The Who!!).  And wonderful performances from the Wes Anderson Players, including Schwartzman, Murray, Williams, Brian Cox, Seymour Cassel, Mason Gamble, and (of course) Wilsons Luke and Andrew.  Everything works.

Ultimately, the film’s beauty is that it’s so much like its characters.  If it doesn’t always appear to know where it’s going, it nonetheless ends up right where it needs to be.  By its final curtain, I’d come to love the people in it as much as Anderson does.  And that pretty much sums up why I love this film.

Though I’ve not found it on Netflix Instant, Rushmore has just been released on Blu-Ray by Criterion (so you know that’ll be an excellent presentation), and isn’t too hard to find on DVD.  If you’re not ready to buy it, at least see it.  I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do.

And with that, I’ll call a wrap on my latest you-gotta-see-this post.  Thanks as always for following along, and until the next time, “be seeing you…”

Of course, as I walked into the auditorium, a clip from The Muppet Show was playing: Harry Belafonte’s transcendent performance of “Turn The World Around”.  With just a few frames, I was a kid again, in that time when the Muppets HAD me with every show.

And when the movie started, they had me all over again…

It’s been a while since the Muppets had appeared in a feature film (12 years, in fact).  Times have changed since then; what we expect of entertainment in general, and family entertainment in particular, has changed, and so the franchise has struggled to recapture the magic of that first Muppet Movie and that classic series.  It’s one of the new film’s many graces that its screenplay (written by Jason Segel and Nicholas Stoller, with James Bobin as director) acknowledges the passage of time and places its characters squarely in our reality.

The Muppet Theater is now a dusty relic, about to be destroyed by an obligatory Evil Oil Baron (Chris Cooper – and I can pretty much guarantee that you’ve never seen him like this), and the Muppets themselves have moved on with their separate lives.  We’ve forgotten them, and sadly, they’ve forgotten themselves.  The revelation of their fates is at once hilarious and deeply poignant, especially when we meet Fozzie Bear again, and see him still reaching for that dream he can never quite achieve.  There’s an alchemy at work in these early scenes, a balance of comedy and melancholy, that works on you in ways I really can’t explain.

It falls to our new heroes – Gary (Segel again), Mary (Amy Adams), and Walter (a new Muppet character who fits in perfectly with the old guard) – to reunite the gang, to remind them of what they once were, and to set them off on another let’s-put-on-a-show adventure.  From here, the film moves quickly, and captures the Muppet spirit perfectly.  Non-sequitur celebrity cameos?  Check.  Note-perfect songs?  Check (thanks to Flight of the Conchords’ Bret McKenzie).  Random breaking of the fourth wall?  Check.  It’s all here, and it still works.  The audience was having a great time.

But then came one scene, a moment so brief and so perfect that I never even realized how much I missed it.  For the first time in 30 years, Scooter opened that dressing-room door and said “Fifteen seconds to curtain.”  From there, I was swept up all over again in the true magic and joy of The Muppets, just as I was in watching Belafonte sing.  I’m not embarrassed to admit it – reader, I teared up.

If you’re of my generation, you’ll come into a film like this with a certain level of nostalgia, and certain expectations that come with it.  And so, while The Muppets is a wonderful film for audiences of all generations, I think it will resonate most strongly for those of us who grew up with these characters, who remember what they were like in their prime.

Because now they are again.

With that, I’ll go.  To the reader, thank you for following along once again.  I hope you enjoy the film as much as I did, and I’ll see you next time.

And to my old friends, Kermit and Piggy and Fozzie and Gonzo and Statler & Waldorf and Scooter and Swedish Chef and all the rest of you… welcome back.  I’ve missed you.

And that kind of opportunity came again a couple of weeks ago, with an invitation from that man about two towns, Michael Druck.  Home from New York for a time, Michael (through his Actors Network SA) was hosting an Actors Expo, an event designed to bring talent together to network with and learn from industry professionals.  (Michael being Michael, the event also served as a fundraiser for the North East School of the Arts, one of the many essential organizations that foster and encourage the growth of young talent here in S.A.)

And that list of professionals turned out to include me.

The event took place in the Pearl Brewery complex, at the shared home of Brad Milne’s San Antonio Film Academy and Tracey Maurer Photography.  The day’s panels encompassed the most basic and important aspects of the business of acting.  Auditioning.  Finding representation.  Training.  Marketing.  Of course, Nikki was there to moderate and make sure everyone had a chance to speak, listen, and learn.

For my panel, the last of the day, Brad represented the acting coaches.  Taylor James Johnson (in his capacity as a producer for KTSA) and the Express-News’s Melissa Renteria discussed what the media look for in story pitches.  And I talked about what actors can and should do when trying to promote themselves, both to traditional media and through social media.  There, and in all the panels, a lot of great insights were shared, and if you missed it, I encourage you to connect with Actors Network to learn about future events and connect with all of us.

One of the first and most important things actors must learn – and this is something we touched on in our panels – is how to respect and present themselves as products.  When you’re an actor, you have to be ready to promote yourself, whether it’s to talent buyers, media, anybody; you can’t build a career without that.  So I’m grateful for people like Michael and Nikki, and everyone who participated in the expo (those I named here, and those I didn’t), for helping talent learn the skills they need to raise the bar for themselves, and for all of us in this market.

Thanks to everyone who took part, on both sides of the table, for making this event a success.  Actors Network SA will return in the spring for another expo; until then, you can connect with them on Facebook and stay in the loop.  If you’re an actor in the S.A. market, I strongly encourage it.

Last, and never least, thanks to you, the reader, for continuing to follow along.  Until next time, “be seeing you…”

Of course I’ve never actually been there.  But I can’t be the only one who feels like he has, because I’ve seen it in so many films and shows, heard it in so many songs, read it in so many stories.  In the best of those, the city becomes a living character in his own right.

Which brings me to a certain subway train…

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three was released in 1974, the kind of year that also gave us The Conversation and The Godfather Part II (to name but two examples).  And Joseph Sargent’s thriller, adapted by Peter Stone from John Godey’s novel, can stand with the best of that year, as a prototype for the modern action film (think of Speed as one of its descendants).

If you know the title, you know the plot.  A band of thieves (their color-coded aliases a clear influence on Tarantino) takes that aforementioned train hostage, demanding payment of one million dollars in exchange for the lives of the passengers.  As the authorities stall and bluff and try to out-think the hijackers, the character of the city is revealed in the characters we meet – hijackers and hostages, transit men, arguably even the train itself.  There’s a quality more felt than seen about the film, a sense that what happens in it could only happen in this city, at this time, with these people.  And the film’s so much stronger for it.

And as the film brings the city to life, its fantastic cast brings the citizens to life as well.  As the leader of the hijackers, Robert Shaw is obviously brilliant (if you want a dictionary definition of range, watch this movie on a double-bill with his very next screen performance… in a film called Jaws), but the film’s other actors are just as strong.  And those actors include the likes of Martin Balsam, Hector Elizondo, Earl Hindman, Jerry Stiller, Doris Roberts, and Kenneth McMillan.

And then there’s Walter Matthau, in the kind of performance that defined his career.  There’s nothing particularly flashy about his work – Matthau never stole a scene so much as he quietly took possession of it.  But that was his gift.  And the way he used it as Lt. Zachary Garber encompasses everything that was great about Walter Matthau.

If all it had was that cast, and Sargent’s smart and steady direction, it would be enough.  But it also has one of film’s great scores, a nervy, jazzy turn by David Shire.  And its last shot is one of the great endings in film history – not just the perfect coda to a fantastic thrill ride, but the perfect summary of a wonderful actor’s career.

If you’d like to see it (for the first time or again), The Taking of Pelham One Two Three is available for instant viewing on Netflix, on DVD, or on BluRay.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

So, once again, thanks for your time and support.  Until the next post, “be seeing you…”

It goes without saying – so of course I’m saying it anyway – that the dress rehearsal is one of the last, and therefore most important, steps in that process.  It’s where we take all the pieces we’ve created and collected and put them together to see how they work as a whole.  Set: check.  Props: check.  Costumes: check.  Blocking: check.  Lines memorized: check.  Sound and light: check.  MaMaLu Olivo as our stage manager: check.  It’s our best chance to see how the show will play before we bring the audience into the theater.

We had brought in a selection of trusted friends and family to serve as our test audience, and they provided good feedback on what worked and what needed that little more work.  From there, we fine-tuned the play, tightening the pace where we needed to, building on the laughs where we could, doing all those little things you need to do to make a show audience-ready.

Which brought us to opening night at last.  We had a good crowd for a Halloween-weekend show, and so we were looking forward to seeing how they’d respond to the play and to all the work we’d put into it.  We hoped they’d have as much fun watching the shenanigans as we’d had crafting them.

Me being me, and me being not a little protective of our work, I was backstage to help keep things running smoothly.  While I couldn’t watch the audience from that vantage point, I could hear their response, and so could guess at how well we’d done our job, and how well Byrd’s and Joel’s and Nikki’s performances would go over with the crowd.  Judging from what I heard - from the laughter during the play to comments made after the curtain call – it all went over really well.

I learned on Rumors that there are few experiences quite like seeing your play come to life before an audience.  And that lesson held true for The Love List.  So, I hope I can speak for the rest of the cast and crew – Kathleen, Byrd, Joel, Nikki, MaMaLu, Yvette, Mark, Jim, and any- and everyone I may have missed – in thanking everyone who came to the Cameo to support us in our opening weekend.

If you haven’t yet, we’d love to have you join us.  The Love List will continue its run through November 27; you can see the full schedule of showtimes, and even buy tickets, at the Cameo’s website.  I’ll be around if you’d like to say hello, and I’m looking forward to laughing with you, and at Joel and Byrd and Nikki.

Or laughing with them… or near them…

Thanks as always for following along, and “be seeing you” at the show…

It’s a masterwork of writing and acting, and typical of Gilligan’s method/madness, building a shocking outcome on a foundation of nearly unbearable tension and pitch-perfect performances.

When I wrote that some while ago, fans were still abuzz over that “money shot” of Breaking Bad‘s season premiere.  “Box Cutter” set a standard that any other season of any other series would struggle to merely approach, let alone maintain.  But I was sure that Vince Gilligan and his cast and crew were up to the challenge.

I had no idea…

In the twelve episodes that followed, we witnessed more great moments in a series that just kept getting better.  The downward spiral of Jesse Pinkman, and a push toward redemption from the most unlikely of sources.  The continued corrpution of Skyler White.  The resurrection-by-obsession of Hank Schrader, driven as much to bring down Heisenberg as to get the hell away from his wife.  A darkly comedic end to Ted Beneke’s storyline (and to Ted Beneke).  Inspired comic relief from Bob Odenkirk, Lavell Crawford, and Bill Burr.  The quiet brilliance of Jonathan Banks.  And an extraordinary, nearly immobile performance from Mark Margolis as Hector Salamanca – I still haven’t found the words to do justice to how he so utterly became a man imprisoned in body and in soul.

But at the heart of it all remained the war between Walter White and Gustavo Fring.  From the beginning, it was clear that their relationship would come to a crisis.  And with every move in their chess game, it was clear that only one could prevail.  It’s one more testament to the strength of the show’s writing and acting that we were left guessing for so long, trying to figure out if Walt’s desperate, impulsive schemes could even hope to match Gus’s meticulous, all-encompassing long game, if that wreck of a man could hope to outsmart the malevolent genius with “an appropriate response” to everything.

The answer came in four of the most extraordinary hours of television I’ve seen.  “Salud” gave us quintessential Gustavo, in a sequence that saw an entire drug cartel wiped out by his cool and careful vengeance.  It was a fantastic scene, but where lesser shows would have made of it an end, for Breaking Bad it was only a means…

Having rid himself of Don Eladio, Gus returned to Albuquerque in “Crawl Space”, to cast Walt out with a threat we knew he could – and would – carry out. Brought to his ultimate low, his family endangered by the very actions he took to protect them, Walt (and even the series) seemed to have nowhere to go, until “End Times” brought Jesse back to his side, Gus’s true “loyalty” apparently revealed in a shocking attempt on a young boy’s life.  Together, they would plot Gus’s death, but of course, Gus was still so many steps ahead of them.

Until “Face Off”.

Two weeks have passed since that season finale, and I still find myself thinking about it, wanting to talk about it.  And more amazing is that I still find people who want to think and talk about it with me.  Was it really that good?  Was it really that powerful?

You’ve likely guessed my answer already.

Two shots define the episode’s greatness, and so the series’.  The first, of course, needs little discussion.  After too many failed attempts, and attempts that didn’t last long enough to even approach failure, Walt finally found a way to get to Gus, recruiting their mutual Mortal Enemy, none other than Tio Salamanca, in a suicide mission… that succeeds.  The death of Gustavo Fring is an amazing sequence, not only for its visceral impact, and not only for its dramatic impact, but most of all for how it’s so perfectly in character.  Those calm last steps out of Tio’s room, that last straightening of the tie, that horror revealed beneath the quiet facade – Gus’s last seconds are the ultimate summary of everything we’ve come to know about the character, and everything we’ve come to love about Giancarlo Esposito’s performance.  It’s a fitting end for one of the greatest villains of all time.

Just as chilling, just as powerful a money shot, ends the episode.  Walt and Jesse are allies again, maybe even friends.  Walt’s family is safe.  As he chillingly tells Skyler, “I won.”  It should be over.  But in one simple and perfect shot, of nothing more than a potted plant, we discover the truth: that “Gus’s” act against young Brock was really Walt’s doing.  To turn Jesse to his cause, Walt has committed the very crime he once accused Gus of (in season 3′s “Half Measures”).  And try as he does to justify himself, we know it wasn’t to protect his family, or to save Jesse from Gus’s influence.  It was solely for the sake of winning.

And for Walter White, the cost of winning is to become Gustavo Fring.

We know, of course, that Walt’s victory will not bring him or his family peace, but he’ll gloat anyway.  He’ll keep denying his sins, until they return to demand payment of him.  And we KNOW that in those final sixteen episodes, they will…

Until then, I’ll keep celebrating an extraordinary run for an extraordinary series, a perfect storm of shock, suspense, dark humor, and most of all character.  I’ll keep praising the extraordinary work of Vince Gilligan, Bryan Cranston, Aaron Paul, and the entire cast and crew.  And I’ll keep nagging you to watch.

That’s just gotten a little easier, as the first three seasons are now available for instant viewing on Netflix, and the DVDs are readily available.  Be warned, though – once you’ve started, there’s no going back.  Breaking Bad is one of that handful of shows that truly have changed everything.

With that, I’ll once again thank you for following along.  Until the next time, “be seeing you…”

The greatest leap forward has been the building of our set.  While we still have a few touches to add, you can already see how nicely Jim and the Cameo crew have brought the place to life.  They’ve brought in a lot of details that really tie the room together (yes, including a rug), and it’s feeling less like a stage and more like a place someone could actually live in.

That’s great for the actors, who now have a ready playing field for their performances.  The blocking is coming together, under Kathleen’s continued guidance, and Nikki, Joel, and Byrd are growing more comfortable and confident with their dialogue.  And as they get to know their characters, they’ve added little touches of their own, those little moments that make a play work (I seriously think we should consider promoting this with a music video of one of Nikki’s singing performances).

For my part, I’ve enjoyed being behind the curtain again, and I hope I’ve been some help to Kathleen and the actors as we all find our way to October 29.  It goes without saying (so of course I’m saying it anyway) that there are a lot of details to coordinate in any production, whatever the size – props, sound, you name it – so I’ve been doing my best to help bring all the pieces together and make sure they fit.

(And yes, that has included stepping in to read for actors when they’re not available.  My official I’m-not-an-actor pose may have taken a few more hits from that…)

With each rehearsal, the pace is getting tighter, the energy’s rising, and our enthusiasm continues.  And I believe that energy will carry over to the audience, so I hope you’ll be there to share in it.

To which end, online ticket sales for the play’s opening are now live.  And group rates are also available for parties of 10 or more (please e-mail Nikki for the details).  With just over a week to go, be sure to order them soon to make sure you’ll have your seat.

Thanks as always for following along.  I’m looking forward to seeing you at the Cameo during the show’s run (that’s October 29-November 27, just as a friendly reminder).  Until then…

But now I get to go through it all over again.

If you follow Nikki on Facebook, then you may already know that she’s currently in rehearsals for the Cameo Theatre‘s next production, a romantic comedy by Norm Foster called The Love List.  The play (much like Nikki’s previous Cameo outing, Romantic Fools) takes us back to the frontlines of The Battle Of The Sexes, as two men try to figure out this whole relationship thing by compiling a list of the qualities they’d like to see in The Perfect Woman.  It’s kind of a lark for them, a fun little experiment… until that woman actually shows up…

It’s a funny play, with a lot of potential for both laughs and pained groans of oh-god-I’ve-been-there recognition.  All it needs is the right cast and crew, and the Cameo’s found them.  On stage, we have Byrd Bonner and Joel Crabtree as the men, and Nikki as The Perfect Woman; off, we have Kathleen Lovejoy directing.  Separately, they’re all incredibly talented, so the prospect of seeing them on the same production is pretty exciting.

The first read-through happened last Sunday, the first rehearsal last Monday.  And a day after that, the crew added an assistant director to its ranks… me.

For that first week of rehearsals, Kathleen guided the cast through the play’s first act, which establishes the premise and then has fun with the unexpected consequences of that list.  Everyone’s doing a great job – they’re building the characters, they’re finding the laughs, and they’re finding the play’s heart.  I’m enjoying working alongside Byrd and Joel and Kathleen and Nikki, but more than that, it’s a privilege just to be there to witness and assist the process.  I’m looking forward to seeing how the play comes together, and to sharing it with all of you.

That will begin with the play’s opening on October 29 (that’s a Saturday), and will continue through November 27 (that’s a Sunday).  The tickets will be on sale soon at the Cameo’s website, and I’ll let you know as soon as they’re online – until then, be sure to follow the theatre on Facebook and Twitter.

Thanks to cast and crew for welcoming me into the production.  And thanks once again to you for coming along for the journey – I hope you’ll be there when it leads us to opening night.  It’s really going to be fun.

So, until the next turn, “Be seeing you…”

The one that has really stuck with me, though, is a film that distills that theme to its essence.  Its star still cites it as one of his favorite performances.  It helped launch the career of one of film’s greatest composers.  And it might just be my favorite Western.

It was directed by David Miller, and written by Dalton Trumbo (from a novel by Edward Abbey), but if you know Lonely Are the Brave, you probably think of it as a Kirk Douglas film first.  He was the star (having brought Abbey’s The Brave Cowboy to Universal as a potential vehicle for himself), and his production company put the cast and crew together.  More than that, the story touches on one of Douglas’s favorite themes, one that you’ll find recurring throughout his career.  Like Spartacus and Paths of Glory and One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest (yes, Douglas starred in the play on Broadway, and held the rights to the novel before passing them on to his son), Lonely Are the Brave addresses the struggle of the individual to maintain his self, to be true to his identity and ideals.

In this film, the individual is Jack Burns (Douglas, of course), a cowboy living in a world where prairies and horses have given way to highways and trucks.  Burns isn’t oblivious to the world around him so much as he refuses to participate in it.  He has his horse, and he has his freedom, and like the poster says, “Life can never cage a man like this.”

Needless to say, life does try, and Burns’ inevitable conflict with the law soon finds him on the run.  He’s alone (save for that horse, Whiskey), and he knows the land – he’s in his element.  But his element has changed, and he can only deny that for so long…

“Daring” may not be the first word to come to mind when you consider the idea of a Western set in the early 1960s.  But there is a certain daring about it, a subversion of what we expect of the genre.  And yet, for all of that, Lonely Are the Brave still looks like a  Western, thanks to Philip H. Lathrop’s beautiful cinematography.  It sounds like one, thanks to an inspired early score by Jerry Goldsmith (then an up-and-coming television composer, recommended to the production by no less than Alfred Newman).  And it feels like one, thanks to the performances.

Douglas is right about his performance.  In his hands Jack Burns becomes a classic [anti]hero – defiant, passionate, ultimately tragic.  And the cast surrounding him is just as good, including Gena Rowlands, as one of the few people on earth capable of understanding Burns, and Walter Matthau, as the sheriff who first pursues Burns, then comes to respect and even sympathize with him (in some ways, he’s a forerunner to Tommy Lee Jones’s Sam Gerard).  Supporting them, and Douglas, are great character actors like George Kennedy, William Schallert, Bill Raisch (who, a year later, would become a television icon as The Fugitive‘s original One-Armed Man), and Carroll O’Connor.

Cast and crew alike excel, and all in service of a classic story, one that finds the universal in the specific.  The odyssey of Jack Burns is the odyssey of anyone who has ever fought for a place in the world, anyone who has tried to remain an individual in the face of crushing societal pressures.  Lonely Are the Brave, like its protagonist, at once exists in and transcends its time.  It’s just a great film.

Again, I hope you enjoyed my musings – if they’ve inspired you to see Lonely Are the Brave, it’s available on DVD and on Netflix’s instant lineup (though, if you’re an aspect-ratio purist, I’d go with the DVD, as the Netflix version is rather shamefully cropped for 4:3 TVs).  Hope you like this movie as much as I love it.

Thanks as always for your support, and “be seeing you…”