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The Searchers

It's all there in that final shot, folks. For those of you who are not acquainted with this famed 1950s Western, directed by John Ford and starring John Wayne, here's how it goes. Wayne is Ethan Edwards, a rough, racist cowboy who's out to save his niece from some Native Americans who've kidnapped her. Though there's been much action and suspense that takes place over the lengthy story (which spans years), Ethan has saved his niece even though he had vowed to kill her if she'd become like one of the Comanche who'd taken her. Ethan brings her back home and is then shut out from his family, who've never really liked him all that much; the final shot is set inside the house, as the family goes inside without him, leaving Ethan alone as ever. This shot is iconic and quite impressive out of context. But, in context, it frustrates me to no end. Why exactly am I supposed to feel anything - sympathy, bitterness, or the like - for such a horrible character? I give Ford and Wayne credit for choosing such a despicable character to lead one of the big Westerns of the 1950s, but it's hard to want to spend two hours with such a man. Of course, The Searchers is also burdened by the fact that John Wayne is (brace yourselves) just not a good actor. There's a reason that he's so easy to imitate, with his grandiose swagger and husky voice: he's a caricature of a cowboy instead of a character. Wayne has been in good movies, and Ford's made fine films. The Searchers is, despite popular belief, not one of those movies.

Scarface

Now, it'd be nice if I had to remind you that, no, I don't mean the 1933 classic directed by Howard Hawks and starring Paul Muni. Of course, very few people these days are as familiar with the film that spawned the egregious, excessive excretion that is known as Scarface. Not only is this the film that began Al Pacino's slow but steady slide into his being a cartoon, but it's the most ridiculous, hyperactive yet phenomenally boring mobster movie ever made. Is there any reason for this movie to be three hours long? Hell, even 2001, which is as overlong as some movies get, knew to cut things off before the 150-minute mark. This version of Scarface, featuring a Cuban mobster named Tony Montana, was directed by Brian DePalma and written by Oliver Stone. DePalma, Stone, Pacino; these are all men who have the potential to be amazing. Scarface is, unfortunately, a black mark on their records. Of course, this movie has achieved a misbegotten cult status in the past decade and a half, thanks in part to many rappers choosing to have Montana as some kind of twisted role model, even though he ends up burying his head in a hill of cocaine and dying in a crazed blaze of glory. Granted, those two scenes, which come in the final 20 minutes or so of the movie, are worth checking out on YouTube, if only because they feature Al Pacino at his raving worst (with the exception of a climactic monologue in The Devil's Advocate). Despite featuring a pretty strong performance from Michelle Pfeiffer, Scarface is a bloated mess that somehow has managed to survive all these years later.

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