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The Manchurian Candidate (1962)

Date Seen: 8/10/17
Score: 5/5

DIRECTOR: John Frankenheimer 
PRODUCERS: George Axelrod & John Frankenheimer
STUDIO: United Artists
SCREENPLAY: George Axelrod
CINEMATOGRAPHY: Lionel Lindon

Laurence Harvey and Frank Sinatra
Laurence Harvey
Ladies Garden Meeting...
...or Communist hypnotizing session?


Frank Sinatra and Laurence Harvey




Khigh Dhiegh

James Gregory and Angela Lansbury


Frank Sinatra and Janet Leigh






Frank Sinatra, bizarrely, introducing the first karate scene into American cinema



Angela Lansbury and John McGiver


Leslie Parrish and Laurence Harvey
John McGiver and James Gregory













I think I can say with full certainty that The Manchurian Candidate is a film that should be seen more than once in order to fully process its level of cinematic and psychological thoroughness. Here is a movie with depth, appropriately wallowing in its own complexity while retaining an air of wry humor necessary to the formation of an excellent political satire. Although it does place on the 1998 AFI 100 Films list, The Manchurian Candidate was not exactly warmly received the year of its release, which was unfortunately the same year as such blockbuster masterpieces as Lawrence of Arabia, and it quickly fell into obscurity, for reasons that range from Frank Sinatra's tight control over its rights to its possible inspiration to Kennedy assassin Lee Harvey Oswald. Yet today, decades after the end of the Cold War, in a new era of political strife including a looming threat of apocalyptic forces ending life in America as we know it, The Manchurian Candidate is as ready for consumption as ever.

Clearly I have many positive things to say about this film, mostly because I greatly admire the collaboration of John Frankenheimer, George Axelrod, and cinematographer Lionel Lindon. The trio creates a distorted, dystopian American reality through its careful combination of surrealist-inspired visual style, intriguing, teasing dialogue, and fascinating psychological exploration. Yet, it's true that the film loses itself at times within the paradox of its own message: for a film that's anti-anticommunist, it's pretty anticommunist. That is to say, for a film that spends so much time establishing the McCarthy parody Senator Iselin as a demagogue buffoon who endangers the Democratic way by threatening the State Department with proof of communist interference, The Manchurian Candidate sure does make sure to trash communism. 

The entire film makes a point of differentiating a Kennedy-esque dream of American ideals from the serious, inhumane threat of communism, which is, by this film's definition, a conglomerate of baby-killer ethics with an unflinching goal to destroy the American way at any cost. Yet although the film is supposedly a political thriller, it bases its drama much more specifically on the personal threat of communism, demonstrating the ways in which it has the ability to dismantle the American traditions  that form the bedrock of western society. The film achieves this depiction through its specific target, the deconstruction of the American family unit.

Using Freudian psychology (very appropriately and aptly) to explore, among other things, the ways in which the family unit could be manipulated and radicalized by outside sources, the film demonstrates the serious threat posed by anti-American ideals by making Angela Lansbury's Mrs. Iselin an exact opposite of the American ideal of femininity. Lansbury stands in stark contrast to the other women in the film, notably Janet Leigh's Rosie and Leslie Parrish's Jocelyn Jordon. As Ivan Coates writes in his take on the film, 

The true American women, Eugenie Rose and Jocelyn Jordan, reflect the postwar feminine ideal. They are domestically oriented and do not seek power outside of that domain. They embody ideal female qualities such as compassion, nurture, tenderness, warmth, and loving devotion. They are entirely male-oriented, desiring little more than to love, to serve, and to tend to one particular man, only becoming whole when coupled with another.... By contrast, communist women, represented primarily by Mrs. Iselin (Angela Lansbury), become involved in the 'male' domains of politics and power. As a filmic construction the female communist represents a mockery of the domestic ideal and the sanctity of home. These values were regarded as central to the American way of life...

I find the inversion of traditional gender roles equated to evil chaos as being a rather banal trope of postwar American films, but I understand its sociopolitical implications. The filmmakers, in the act of demonstrating what will happen to women and thus the American family, demonstrate their own devotion to upholding the traditional spheres of western society, and thus complicate matters by making a film that thinks of itself as radically liberal in reality quite conservative. It plays into the hand, so to speak, of the Cold War era it was created in, whether aware or simply carrying out the propaganda mission unconscious of its actions like its own hypnotized protagonists. 

The Manchurian Candidate is a fascinating movie because of these many complexities and contradictions. How can a film that so virulently attacks McCarthyism also function as a reiteration of Communism's dangers? The film flirts with progressivism, from having an impressive number of African Americans represented in the cast while also employing several white men in yellowface, to its richly complicated relationship with Cold War era politics. Released 10 days after the Cuban Missile Crisis began in 1962 and re-released during the Reagan era's looming nuclear threat, The Manchurian Candidate is the perfect film to watch now, in 2017, as threats from North Korea commingle with the absurdities of the Trump Administration's political reality. 

Sources:
"A Second Look: The Manchurian Candidate" by Thomas Doherty, published in Cinéaste, Vol. 16, No. 4 (1988)
"George Axelrod and The Manchurian Candidate" by John Hanhardt, published in Film Comment, Vol. 6, No. 4 (Winter, 1970-1971)
"Review: The Manchurian Candidate" by R.M. Hodgens, published in Film Quarterly, Vol. 16, No. 3 (Spring, 1963)
"Enforcing the Cold War Consensus: McCarthyism, Liberalism and The Manchurian Candidate" by Ivan Coates, published in the Australasian Journal of American Studies, Vol. 12, No. 1 (July, 1993)
"Cold War Redux: From Kennedy to Reagan's America and Beyond" from What Have They Built You To Do?: The Manchurian candidate and Cold War America by Matthew Frye Jacobson and Gaspar González, University of Minnesota Press (2006)
"Review: What Have They Built You To Do?: The Manchurian Candidate and Cold War America by Matthew Frye Jacobson and Gaspar González" by Susan Carruthers, published in The Journal of American History, Vol. 94, No. 2 (Sep., 2007)
All photos and GIFS from Google Images.

How To Become A Part-Time Film Critic


If you are reading this blog it probably means that you, like me, are interested in movies a little more than the average person. Maybe you're a student who's learning about film and wants to explore the ins-and-outs of basic film interpretation and analysis. Maybe you're a movie-buff who doesn't care so much about the scholarly side of things. Maybe you're just stumbling upon this now and have no idea to exit out! No matter what situation you're in, there's an easy way to introduce yourself to the basic principles of film criticism and analysis, regardless of your background. In this post, I'll be sharing some tips for how to be an informed viewer, and how to develop (or refine) your skills as a critic.


This step is either the easiest or the most difficult, depending on your background in film. Before you can start critiquing film, you need to develop a background (however rudimentary) in film enough to be able to compare films and contextualize them in history's technicalities, and thus decide on whether or not you think a film is good. If you've only ever seen low-budget 1980s slasher films and you try to jump right into Citizen Kane, it may come as a surprise to you that so many people consider it to be the greatest film masterpiece of all time (frankly, even if you've seen a lot of classic films it may still puzzle you- and we'll get to that in a second). 

To understand what makes a film great, it's important to make an effort to understand basic film history. Stuff like film theory can serve as a very important tool in film analysis, but in my opinion, if you're a beginner, it's more important to understand the historical context of a film to judge whether or not you think it made the best use of the technology it was allowed at the time, as well as whether or not it was particularly innovative or important for the time it was made in. Films like Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968; pictured above) and, yes, Orson Welles's Citizen Kane (1941) are both films considered highly innovative and influential because of the ways in which they helped to develop cinematic techniques and radical styles of filmmaking that are now considered staples of motion picture making. Learning about the ways in which celebrated films were able to pioneer filmmaking techniques makes these films all the more enjoyable (and impressive) to watch.

Of course, it's important to judge a film not only by how technically great you think it is, but also by how much you enjoyed it. There are great films that I think are very boring, and there are bad films I think are incredibly entertaining; entertaining is not a synonym for great. Obviously the goal of making a perfect film is being able to effectively balance cinematic perfection/greatness with entertainment value; this is a very difficult thing to do. 

It also gets complicated when trying to evaluate controversial films, of which there have been many. Watching films like D.W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915) or Victor Fleming's Gone With The Wind (1939), it's difficult to get past the blatant and deeply-troubling racism. Yet there is a reason that these films, particularly Griffith's, retain the distinction of being cinematic masterpieces: despite their unforgivable racial prejudices, they both pioneer unprecedented cinematic techniques that are now staples of the industry. For instance, The Birth of a Nation was the first film to pioneer the use of the close up, the Iris Shot (expanding or closing circular masks to open up or close a shot), the ability to shoot outside, the ability to shoot during the nighttime, tinted film frames, high-angle shots, panoramic long shots, fade-ins and outs, vignettes, lap dissolves, the dramatic retelling of history through film, cross-cutting between shots, tracking shots, parallel editing, scenes shot from multiple angles, and a score specifically compiled and arranged. So basically, it's an important film, despite its troubling history and despicable message.

My favorite way to research film history is by using online scholarly databases like JSTOR (which you can get access to at most public libraries, most high schools, and virtually every college or university), as well as some of the databases supplied by my college specifically for Cinema and Media Studies research. Once I've watched a film, I search the film's title in JSTOR and look for articles that seem like interesting pieces of analysis, as well as for straight-up reviews of the film, from the year it was released to present-day. I also rely heavily on plain-old books to learn about film studies; some of my most-used books on film include Richard Osborne's Film Theory For Beginners, David Bordwell and Kristin Thompson's Film Art: An Introduction, the interviews conducted between Alfred Hitchcock and François Truffaut in Hitchcock/Truffaut, and Robert Skylar's Film: An International History of the Medium. It's also important to broaden your horizons by exposing yourself to as many films as you possibly can- that means opening your mind to genres you've never thought to explore or never even heard of, like silent films, science fiction, or even classic Hollywood black-and-white films.

Yet there remains a question: After developing a base, how can you effectively balance your own thoughts about a film with the historically-based facts about the film's production style?


The best way to balance your thoughts and what you think is technically great (or not so great) about a film is to develop a rubric for criticism. When I review films for this blog, I score them based on a scale I developed, which I will now share with you:


As you may notice, it was developed on the very high-tech platform of Google Docs. Basically, it's incredibly easy to develop a rubric- all you have to do is decide what you want to judge, put those factors in one column, and then create columns for judging. Once you've scored a film, you tally up the score and divide it by the number of categories to find a simple average. I go off of a 1-5 scale, but there are obviously many other ways to do it; Rotten Tomatoes uses a 1-100% scale, and many critics, like the late and great Roger Ebert, use a system of 1-4 stars. 

Let me show you an example of a recent film I watched to illustrate how to use the rubric:


See? Easy peasy. But once you've scored a film, what are you going to do with it?


If you've gone to the effort of learning about film history and theory and developing a rubric to use to critique films, it only makes sense that you would want to do something with all of that work. This, to me, is where individual expression comes in. Whether you want to start a blog about your journey through films like I did, or try something more innovative like a podcast or a vlog, or even just keep a journal of your thoughts and ideas, it's rewarding to take your thoughts and turn them into something bigger. The truth is, you don't have to be a professional to be a critic. While you'll certainly gain a more prestigious reputation, as well as be more trusted and respected, if you have the kind of credentials that professionals have, all it really takes to be an amateur film critic is to follow the steps I've outlined in this blog entry. To recap:

Step One: Develop A Base, learning about film production and history, as well as exposing yourself to theory and classic film criticism. This can be properly achieved through reading articles and reviews found on online databases like JSTOR, or even free online encyclopedias and well-established and credible websites. 

Step Two: Develop A Rubric, breaking down the categories of what you consider the building blocks of a film, while also factoring in your own enjoyment of the film despite any technical failures. This can be done either by using the super high-tech and advanced rubric I created and featured here, or by creating your own!

Step Three: Share Your Criticism by finding a platform suitable to you to express some of your ideas and new-found/refined knowledge. Personally I favor writing blog-style, but I also think that this can extend into academic writing, journaling, or even conversing with people you know who hold similar interest. You can also find more ~creative~ ways to share your thoughts, like by starting a podcast (and I'll be the first one to admit that I ADORE film podcasts), making a vlog, starting a club, or anything you can think up. 

I hope this has been a helpful way for you to organize your thoughts about a possible detour into film criticism, but even if that's not for you, the tips offered here in Step One can still help you become a more informed viewer, which can enrich the overall film-watching experience dramatically. Happy film-watching!