Letters: My Choices, My Critics

I want to thank all those who responded to my November Navigator article, "The Ten Best Films—Objectively Speaking."

Not all the correspondents (nor perhaps all the readers) appear to understand what my two recommended film lists were meant to include and exclude. To reiterate, the article was written particularly for Objectivists. The standards I used for including a film in my "top ten" list, therefore, were not only high production values, but also the dramatization of virtues almost unique to Objectivism. Of course, Objectivism also shares some important moral virtues with other philosophies and religions as well, such as integrity, courage, loyalty, and honesty. But Objectivism distinctively upholds the less-conventional virtues of rationality, intellectual independence, pride (self-esteem), and productiveness. From many great and admirable films, then, I selected for my top ten those movies that best embody those rarer virtues.

For my broader list of "100 recommended inspirational films," I included excellent films that dramatize more generically inspirational qualities and virtues, rather than those distinctive to Objectivism. In some cases I recommended movies that are philosophically mixed, and which thus stretch the boundary lines—though with sufficient ambiguity that I thought their inclusion acceptable. Still, I didn't want to endorse films whose themes and values did violence to the Objectivist outlook, nor those lacking any uplifting or inspirational aspect. So, many terrific movies that I love—ranging from slapstick comedies to action thrillers to film noir classics—didn't make the cut. Neither did specifically religious films, many of which I've also enjoyed on their own terms.

That said, here is some of the mail my article generated, along with my further comments in italics.

To the Editor:

I enjoyed Robert James Bidinotto's choice of 100 film classics, and I've clipped the summary page to keep with my "films to rent" list.

I'm especially pleased that the list almost exclusively comprises films that were popular hits of their day—not high art, not obscure and difficult intellectual exercises, but entertainment with some individualist values underpinning the stories.

Thanks very much for publishing the list. I'll make good use of it.

—Lou Villadsen

I appreciate the kind words and hope my selections provide many hours of enjoyment. No, I'm not a fan of the pretentiousness that so typically masquerades as "high art." The working premises of the purveyors of such work appear to include calculated inaccessibility, deliberate plotlessness, and a neurotic fixation on the sort of uninspiring (or worse) characters who terminally bore (if not repulse) me when I encounter them in real life. Why, then, should I waste time and money on such creatures as objects of contemplation? Moreover, in terms of aesthetic quality and integration, most of my selections easily surpass critically celebrated "art film" offerings.

To the Editor:

In response to Robert James Bidinotto's recent article on films—which, overall, I enjoyed—I would like to remind readers that style is an important element in the art of filmmaking which cannot be ignored in favor of thematic or moral content.

Several of the "auteur" directors that Bidinotto dismisses deserve their reputations on account of their stylistic prowess. Of course, the greatest films should succeed thematically and stylistically. Unfortunately, there are (by my estimation) few such films.

But to cite some partial successes, Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory and Federico Fellini's Amarcord do not have the malevolent themes that the author probably detects in other works from these filmmakers. And they are better films, stylistically speaking, than many of the others on the top-100 list. I think that Objectivists might enjoy them.

—Jason Raibley

I absolutely agree that style is an element of great—though not surpassing—importance. Nothing is more painful to me than a great theme or wonderful characters rendered in a clumsy, ham-handed way—except perhaps for insipid themes and unappealing characters rendered with consummate skill. My major problem with the "auteur" directors that I dismissed was that their work generally treats style as an end in itself, rather than as the means to good storytelling. Fellini is a leading offender. Kubrick, on the other hand, did some pretty good work early on. Paths of Glory is a fine film, though I found it a bit stagy and predictable, and Spartacus is simply brilliant, monumental movie-making. But Kubrick became increasingly self-indulgent as he aged, and his last effort—the wretched Eyes Wide Shut—competes for the title of Most Pretentious Film Ever Made. However, I grant that dishonor to Antonioni's Zabriskie Point, which also rates, by this Objectivist's standards, as the most evil movie ever made.

To the Editor:

I enjoyed Robert James Bidinotto's article on movies, and I think the article was a good idea—an excellent way to stir up people's thinking about Objectivism. I am, even as I write this, just barely restraining myself from squabbling over some of the choices (though I agree on most) and from arguing for some of my candidates that didn't make the author's list. Which is a measure, I'd say, of how good the idea was.

Bidinotto wrote in his introductory discussion that he had ruled out—and fastidiously avoided—the films of Stanley Kubrick. So I was surprised to see Kubrick's Spartacus on his 100-best list. And, frankly, I was surprised that he included Kubrick on his "ruled out" list. While I'm not a big Kubrick fan, I didn't think he deserved to be dismissed with the likes of Tarantino and Stone. Kubrick's early thrillers were very good, and some of his other flicks are fair. And, of course, Spartacus is great.

—David Ross

An eminent logician, the writer caught me fair and square in ambiguous (okay, contradictory) claims about Kubrick. No, Kubrick certainly isn't as bad as most of the others whom I airily dismissed. But see my previous comment to Jason Raibley.

To the Editor:

After having read the article "The Ten Best Films—Objectively Speaking," in the November 2003 Navigator, Robert James Bidinotto sounds like a guy I would love to sit down and have a long evening's conversation with. Many years ago, I wrote an article in the March 1979 issue of Reason entitled "They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To—The Discriminating Viewer's Guide to Romantic Films." My focus then was on movies that fit into what I thought was primarily a Romantic guideline, rather than specifically an Objectivist one; but my gosh, the overlap is eerie (in particular, with Bidinotto's top 100).

In addition to the films that one would expect to find on both our lists (The Fountainhead, Love Letters, We the Living, Cyrano de Bergerac), there were a number that I thought I was the only one who found worthwhile: A League of Their Own, The Natural, Auntie Mame, Queen Christina (Garbo's best, in my opinion), the Olivier Hamlet; my god, even No Name on the Bullet!

With regard to the Top Ten, my preference for number 1 would have been Apollo 13 (perhaps because I worked in the Saturn/Apollo program). While most of my Objectivist and Libertarian friends were touting Braveheart (which came out the same year), I favored Apollo 13—the only movie I've ever seen in which human intelligence and resourcefulness were the main protagonists.

If Bidinotto ever thinks about adding to his list, might I offer for his consideration some of the following: at least one Astaire/Rogers film; at least one Rathbone Sherlock Holmes film; Now, Voyager; Born Free; Desk Set (my favorite Tracy/Hepburn film); and even though he ruled out animated films, I thought the character of Belle raised Disney's Beauty and the Beast to a worthwhile level.

—Bruce Lagasse

What can I say, except that great minds think alike? Incidentally, one of my favorite Tracy/Hepburn films is the little known Keeper of the Flame—a noir mystery with Tracy at his most compelling and Hepburn at her most beautiful. I also agree concerning the merits of the Disney animated classic Beauty and the Beast: the strong, intelligent character of Belle is a charming role model for young girls. And so is Ariel in The Little Mermaid. (Parents, take note.)

To the Editor:

Since I consider myself a very selective movie enthusiast who likes to put great movies in the same league with great novels, Robert James Bidinotto and I could spend a long evening discussing movies and sipping good wine. But I take exception to his ranking of A Man for All Seasons, since Sir Thomas More was something of a religious fanatic, and had he had power in his hands might have been glad to be the head of the Inquisition in England. I don't think this movie belongs in Bidinotto's list.

I have not seen Cash McCall. I will argue against The Miracle Worker since it is a movie that deals with a sad situation in life that is not as things ought to be; also, it has flaws in the acting, is not convincing, and does not deal with human beings in a logical environment. Ninotchka is a good movie but it is not a great one.

I submit that the following movies can compete for a place in the Top-100 list: Lord Jim, Amadeus, The Big Country, Patton, The Pianist, Stalag 17, They Came to Cordura, and The Fastest Gun Alive. In The Big Country, Gregory Peck in the role of Jim McKay is the closest that Hollywood has ever gotten to a John Galt. The Last Command is a better story and rendition than The Alamo of 1960. The Godfather 1, 2, and 3 are superb in dealing with human characters good, bad, and mediocre. Also worthy of inclusion are: Immortal Beloved, Pretty Woman, An Officer and a Gentleman, Il Postino, Dangerous Liaisons, Romeo and Juliet (the 1950s version with Laurence Harvey and Susan Shentall is a must if you like to listen to the English of Shakespeare), Rebel Without a Cause, and Blackboard Jungle.

These movies should replace, hands down, the following movies in the recommended 100: The English Patient, The Untouchables, Gattaca, Tucker: The Man and His Dream, Zulu, and Glory. Roots should be replaced with Lonesome Dove, if we are to include miniseries.

I need to see some of the listed movies that I have never seen. But I sincerely appreciate Bidinotto's effort and his risk in exposing his preferences to guys like me who will criticize his selections.

—Jorge Svoboda

Regarding A Man for All Seasons, I was reviewing the film, not the actual historical person of Thomas More. Whatever kind of man he was in real life, in the film he wasn't portrayed as a religious zealot. In fact, More's character was deliberately contrasted with that of son-in-law William Roper (a true fanatic), in order to present More as a life-loving man of independent, rational conviction—not as a dutiful, self-sacrificing martyr. ("This is not the stuff of which martyrs are made," he insists to his daughter, Meg.) That characterization was writer Robert Bolt's explicit intent, according to his introduction to the published play version of his story, where he explains why he chose to depict More, "a Christian saint, as a hero of selfhood."

Ayn Rand herself described The Miracle Worker as one of the only films ever to highlight and honor the faculty of reason. The extreme situation it depicted was, dramatically speaking, a brilliant way to focus on the nature and importance of concept-formation. By showing how it applies in the case of a cognitively impaired person, the story celebrates rationality for normal people as well. I simply disagree about the acting, which earned well-deserved Oscars for Patty Duke and Anne Bancroft. The only fault I find is the residual staginess of the production, adapted from William Gibson's play.

If one bases film judgments solely on technical merits and omits Objectivist philosophical values, then Ninotchka may not rank with "great movies." Like Cash McCall, it hasn't the scale or exceptional production values of many others one might put on a list of best films. But it's hard to find movies that better embody the Randian spirit and Objectivist values than Ninotchka and Cash McCall. I remain an unrepentant fan of both.</p>

My broader list of 100 films highlights those that Objectivists might find inspirational; and on that basis, I must dispute the suggested inclusion of Lord Jim, Amadeus, Patton, The Pianist, Immortal Beloved, The Godfather trilogy, Pretty Woman, Dangerous Liaisons, and Rebel Without a Cause.

For instance, in Amadeus there was nothing heroic, uplifting, or inspiring about the dissipated character of Mozart, and his rival Salieri was the embodiment of frustrated, envious mediocrity. The depiction of Beethoven in Immortal Beloved was of a great artist deteriorating and going mad—hardly projecting an inspiring, let alone Randian, sense of life. Similarly, the title character in Patton was often shown in self-absorbed fantasy, if not at the edge of madness. The main character of The Pianist was a passenger to the events of World War II—a scared, helpless victim who survived by sheer accident. He was certainly not a heroic protagonist shaping events (as in Schindler's List).

Whatever their production values, and however thought-provoking and compelling (and all are very much worth seeing), these works don't convey a heroic spirit and thus don't fit well within the inspirational categories I presented. (Exceptions: Blackboard Jungle and An Officer and a Gentleman arguably are appropriate for the list. I haven't yet seen the other films the writer mentions, and appreciate his recommendations.)

One concession. I hesitated over including The English Patient. It is poorly integrated, tragic, and downbeat, and its main characters aren't particularly admirable. But I included it ultimately for two reasons: its compelling depiction of the sheer intensity and power of a grand romantic passion, and its sumptuous production values, which lend the storytelling a haunting lyricism and beauty. So it made my list under the "Grand Passions" category—though barely.

To the Editor:

The Spirit of St. Louis does not espouse courage. They aren't even going steady. Lindbergh has no troubles on the flight, as I recall, until the end. Then, when he gets in trouble, he admits that Man is helplessly dependent on God's help, and he tearfully, snivelingly begs for it. Then a miracle happens and saves him. Throughout the whole film, he is defiantly proclaiming Man's independence . . . in a way that anyone who has spent years watching Hollywood films knows is a set-up for a comeuppance. Therefore, the theme is: do not get above yourself. Humbly beg for God's help, and if you debase yourself enough, He might send a miracle for you. Lindbergh, both in the movie and in real life, never refers to "I." He always refers to "We": himself and his plane.

I have never seen Cash McCall, but I will look for it. At an S.I.L. conference at Drexel University in Philadelphia in 1975, Shenandoah was shown. I didn't go to it, and afterward some were wondering why the conference committee had decided to show it. Someone opined that it must be because the movie shows independent Man going into eclipse during the Civil War, which he certainly did.

I am very glad that Apollo 13 made it to Number 3. I saw the premiere of that one at the Ziegfeld Theater. I realized, sitting there and listening to the conversations around me, that this was a show-biz crowd, and they were there not because of any interest in space, but because they all knew the stars personally, or wanted to. Half of them had not even been born at the time of the actual Apollo 13. I was fascinated by the prospect of seeing something I remembered—and had been interested in because of my interest in science and space—but was now seeing as a piece of historical fiction and therefore appealing to me because of my interest in history. But the most affecting moment for me came when, over the aircraft carrier, they showed a title that read "April 17, 1970."

On that morning (I was 16), my family had just come back from the hospital where my father had died in the night. I asked my mother whether she would mind if I turned on the TV to see whether the astronauts had made it back. She said, "Sure, let's at least get them home."

I subsequently saw the movie again with my girlfriend. In the scene between Jim Lovell and his son, she said to me "No wonder this is such a powerful movie for you!"

So Apollo 13 has a triple significance for me—before we even start to test it by Objectivist criteria. Thank you.

—Fred Cookinham

My thanks to the writer for sharing that poignant story. Great art can touch us personally and profoundly, and Apollo 13 qualifies as great art. As for The Spirit of St. Louis, my recollection of the film (seen years ago) is more positive, but I'll now have to watch it again and see if I change my mind. However, I don't find fault with an aviator thinking of himself and his beloved aircraft as "we," any more than I do with a sailor referring to his ship as "she."

To the Editor:

Thanks to Robert James Bidinotto for his movie list and reviews. I'd like to suggest a couple of stylish films for addition to the list.

A Few Good Men has Tom Cruise (type)cast as a flip Navy JAG lawyer who specializes in pleading out cases—until he is assigned to defend two Marine enlisted men under the whip of a colleague (Demi Moore) who fights even trivial cases to the bitter end. Cruise's character is redeemed by taking on influential men who want the matter swept under the rug. The climactic courtroom scene may not be entirely plausible but is highly dramatic thanks to Jack Nicholson (and Kiefer Sutherland and the well-connected Kevin Bacon). The movie is unusual in that the villains became such not through evil intent but by going beyond the bounds of reason in pursuing their duty.

The mini-series Noble House is based on the James Clavell novel and stars Pierce Brosnan and John Rhys-Davies. It portrays wealthy Hong Kong merchant bankers as intelligent, courageous and decent men.

—Alan Pierce

I did enjoy A Few Good Men, but it didn't grab me strongly enough to make my "100 inspiring films" list. I never saw Noble House. After being disappointed by the miniseries Shogun, I didn't feel compelled to invest that much time again on another long tale by the same author. But thanks for the recommendation; I may now give it a try.

To the Editor:

"Speaking very subjectively," I was delighted with and informed by Robert James Bidinotto's "Objectively Speaking" list of personal favorites. Being an avid virtuous-movie fan, I can easily appreciate his considerable efforts in such a brain-wrenching endeavor.

Recently I enjoyed a sleeper, Kate & Leopold, which might fit into his "Sense of Life," "Grand Passions," "Celebrating the Mind," and other categories. Its production qualities were also excellent! I especially liked its music, special effects, character development, sense of interpersonal suspense, and film editing. But there I go again sinking back into my lush "subjectivity."

—Richard Latimer

I haven't seen that one, but will now make a point to do so. Thank you.

To the Editor:

As a regular TOC reader, I enjoyed Robert James Bidinotto's film selections immensely. Very good choices. (As a Brit, however, I bridled at the Mel Gibson film The Patriot, which is chock-full of inaccuracies!) The recent film Master and Commander, starring Russell Crowe, is also good in my view for its celebration of good eternal values of courage, intelligence, and steadfastness, not to mention its positive spin on exploration and science.

—Tom Burroughes

I concede that The Patriot wasn't a great film: the plot was clichéd, the chief villain cartoonish. But it was an ambitious, if flawed, effort to romanticize and personalize the American Revolution—something Hollywood has rarely attempted—so I gave it extra credit for noble intentions, as well as its technical merits. We are definitely riding the same wave regarding Master and Commander, though. I hadn't seen it before drafting my article, but that extraordinary adventure definitely deserves an honored position on my list. I'd also now reserve a place for two other wonderful recent films: the inspiring Seabiscuit and—for its monumental scale of production and solid moral values—the remarkable Lord of the Rings trilogy.

To the Editor:

I just loved Robert Bidinotto's favorite-films article. But I can't believe he left off my top three: The Shawshank Redemption, Other People's Money, and Cliffhanger. In any case, I've got a long list of tapes to rent! Thanks.

—William Walsh

Please see my comments below.

To the Editor:

What a wonderful job Robert James Bidinotto did with his movie lists. There are many films that are now on my radar screen. Thanks.

I'm sure you'll receive many "why isn't such and such included," so let me get the ball rolling. The Shawshank Redemption. A favorite.

Keep up the good work.

—Tom Cirillo

The Shawshank Redemption is a favorite of many Objectivists, and I admire both its acting and its spiritual aspirations. However, for me, the prison setting and the tortures of the hero exuded an overall depressing atmosphere, one that simply didn't mesh with my own sense of life. Maybe it has something to do with all those traumatic crime articles I used to write; but I'm glad that others find the film ennobling. Regarding Other People's Money, I find Danny DeVito's persona excruciating, and so his character just didn't work for me as an exemplar of capitalism. As for the Sylvester Stallone thriller Cliffhanger, I liked it, but less so than many better action thrillers that also didn't make my list. (Maybe I'll do another piece about those-assuming that He approves...)

To the Editor:

I noticed the absence from Robert James Bidinotto's Top-100 list of Black Hawk Down, a true modern story of heroism with high production values. As a military story, it may be somewhat inapplicable to real life, but no more so than The Sound of Music, which he did choose. It's a frustrating movie to watch, because you (as a viewer) know that something is about to go wrong and brave young men are going to die. But it is ultimately inspiring—because these are real men in the real world, sticking to their ideals and purpose and training (which are extreme).

—Jeff Carty

I've written elsewhere that I'm no fan of "docudramas," which take creative (often slanderous) liberties with real people's reputations. A number of historically based films did make my lists, but these are so forthrightly fanciful and inspirational that I treated them as fictions rather than attempts to faithfully re-create history. The Sound of Music is one—a charming musical fantasy only loosely based on the story of the Trapp family singers. As for Black Hawk Down, I knew its meticulous depiction of a politically ugly episode of modern history would infuriate me so much that I couldn't bring myself to watch it—even though I also knew that the American soldiers involved exhibited great valor. They usually do.

To the Editor:

Based on Robert James Bidinotto's Navigator recommendations, I just added almost twenty films to my Netflix queue. I truly love great movies, as evinced by my having a home theater that is absurdly beyond my means.

Instead of scolding Bidinotto for his omissions, I'd like to thank him for his inclusions. Nonetheless, I hope that he'll share with us sometime (in a letter to the editor?) his favorites that do not promote Objectivist values. Great art trumps correct art. Make room for the best script and direction ever, in Lawrence of Arabia, and for the unadulterated joy of A Hard Day's Night.

—Don Baldino

"Great art trumps correct art." Well put. I do enjoy, even love, many films whose themes and values aren't easily confined within the parameters of Objectivism. Lawrence of Arabia is one. I've seen David Lean's masterwork at least a half dozen times; it's a brilliant, majestically mounted film, and I always find it engrossing. But in the end (as in the great film Patton), the title character seems to me more neurotic than admirable, and that kept it off my list of recommendations for Objectivists. Incidentally, readers might find it fascinating to compare the Lawrence of Arabia script with the stage play Ross; I suspect that screenwriter Robert Bolt did more than a little lifting from Terence Rattigan's play. As for A Hard Day's Night, I saw it several centuries ago and can only vaguely recall it as a comedic trifle. Regrettably, as I age I find that I have little recollection of a mounting number of things.