The Martin Scorsese Experience

Dear Marty-

Forgive the informality of addressing you in such a familiar fashion, but in interviews, you seem to give permission it's acceptable. Besides, after nearly six decades of watching your films-the great, the good and those not to my liking (you're incapable of making a truly bad movie)-I feel I've earned the right. If we ever meet, you may call me whatever you please. A mook, even.

I've recently plunked myself into a local cinema to take in your latest, KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON and nearly didn't make the leap. To be frank, the running time held me back. Between you and Christopher Nolan, I've spent six and a half hours watching your recent efforts-over seven if count trailers and theater ads, but you have nothing to do with that. But the lure of the filmmaker as well as the material itself, having been previously riveted by David Grann's source material, proved to be too great a lure. 

Still, three and half hours with no intermission? In my long cinematic journey, a midway break never seemed to intrude on the experience itself. Many of them I can recall to this day. When I was a young 'un, my sister and I went to see GONE WITH THE WIND and left when the lights came up after Scarlett O'Hara declared "As God as my witness, I will never go hungry again!" Being dumb ass kids, we thought the movie was over. Took me almost ten years before I saw the whole damn thing. Intermissions are an affectation of the past, with the exception of revivals, though some are asking them to be reinstated if the three hour plus mark is to continue. 

You, sir, have flat out refused to allow theaters to allow intermissions and those that have, you and your editor Thelma Schoonmaker have claimed are violations, demanding the cease and desist. (Under threat of what? Pulling the film and replacing it with FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S?) You also said in an interview:

“People say it’s three hours, but come on, you can sit in front of the TV and watch something for five hours. Also, there are many people who watch theatre for three and a half hours. There are real actors on stage — you can’t get up and walk around. You give it that respect; give cinema some respect."

In rebuttal, I would say the TV experience is a weak argument. You can't compare the two effectively, much as you can't equate restaurants with eating at home. Cinemas and live theater have their own set of parameters that don't allow for the weapon of choice that no home can do without-the remote control. 

I get it, completely and absolutely. My love for the cinematic experience has helped shape how I've lived my life. I've made no secret that I consider a movie theater to be my cathedral and thus, a religious experience. (I've never been to a multi-plex church however, but that seems a swell idea to me.) And there is no one who has done more for cinema itself, through preservation and appreciation as well as your own work, than you, Marty. If you wish to take a hardline stance, more power to you. Someone should be especially when both the entire industry and artform itself are so fragile. Therefore, above any filmmaker alive today, you've earned the right to have your films presented however the hell you want them.

This week, since I had some time off, I found that I had four hours to spare (there's traveling time involved, m'kay?) and made KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON a priority and, just as I said after I hemmed and hawed before I caught OPPENHEIMER this summer, I am the better person for doing so, mainly because I saw it on the big screen. Not to lump the two films together, I can only collate them by how immersive they are. Nolan's went for the sensory route, utilizing techniques that engaged sight and sound almost relentlessly. KOTFM had been equally involving, though with more a deft touch in its unfolding of this horrific saga in American history, laying it out patiently one step at a time reeling in the viewer until the coil is taut enough to almost snap until the very end. It is an astounding piece of work. Leonard Di Caprio has never been so weasely, an absolute dope who has no clue where his loyalties lie, not with the wife he supposedly loves that's for sure since he decides to pick his wretched family and race above all else. Robert De Niro totally embodies one of the smarmiest bastards of his career, a character type that unfortunately has not died out over time. And Lily Gladstone as Mollie Burkhardt is so quietly powerful, a real welcome and refreshing screen presence that I wish she didn't spend half the movie sickly or in mourning, even though that's how the story plays out for her character. I wish the screen story revolved more around her as opposed to Leo's since  the film itself is much like she was and as portrayed by Gladstone. This sprawling epic could have a lumbering brute of a film, but in your hands, it becomes a symphony. And the epilogue is flat out brilliant. Bravo. If I were to quibble which I have be known to do, I would your own self-serving intro, Marty. It's a totally unnecessary distraction, adding nothing and dampers the opening. I felt as though you were going the Walt Disney route when he used to introduce shows on The Wide World of Color. The fact that you make an appearance at the end is more than enough. Don't belabor the point and let the film speak for itself which it does , loud and clear.

So about the length. (yeah, I have to get back to it) I didn't feel it until the last half-hour which quite honestly did not drag. It's a personal thing and could have been the time of day since I falter in late afternoons when I attended Ye Olde Moviehouse. And like OPPENHEIMER, I had to take a comfort break (aka go to the can) at, ironically enough, the halfway point. All in all, I am pleased to admit that I still have the stamina to attend a long-ass movie like yours. Unfortunately, my bladder has another agenda.

So, Marty, my ol' pal, keep fighting the good fight even if you do get all curmudgeonly in the process. If you can make films as compelling and vibrant as KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON and champion film as only you can do, please do. After all, you are Martin Fucking Scorsese and I think now you damn well know it.

Cinematically yours,

Scott 

The Mook

52 Film Pick-Up

As a film geek par fair-to-middling, I’ve watched literally thousands upon thousands of movies in my life and times because, well, that’s what we do. However, at the turn of the millennium (a phrase I still find odd to comprehend twelve years hence), I had to come terms with the fact that there were some serious gaps in my self-taught film education, the glaring omission of seminal works of the world cinema any self-described movie expert worth his salt should have seen be now (or then, for that matter). Frankly, I was embarrassed to admit my short-comings, a character flaw that made me nothing more than a neophyte poseur. Maybe it was the caveat “required viewing” that kept me away from some of these. “Take your medicine. It’s good for you.” That’s just another in a series of lame excuses. I felt that it was high time that I redeemed myself, at least in my own eyes.

Inspired by the documentary A PERSONAL JOURNEY WITH MARTIN SCORSESE THROUGH AMERICAN CINEMA (a highly recommended documentary with Marty talking about what inspired him and keeps his passion for movies alive), I set out to right the wrongs in my own personal history. In 2002, I drew up a list of 52 titles, kind of a lower case version of 1001 Movie to See Before You Die. (I’ve seen ¾ of those in that book anyway). These movies had eluded me or vice versa over the years and now was the time to make up for lost time. I chose 52 so that I attain the reasonable goal of adding at one of these to my regular viewing per week for a solid year, a variation of the venerable card game 52 Pick-Up.

Here are the original 52 for 2002 (followed by director)

BLACK NARCISSUS-Michael Powell/Emeric Pressburger
THE RED SHOES-Powell/Pressburger
RED DESERT- Michaelangelo Antonioni
SPARTACUS-Stanley Kubrick
THE GREAT DICTATOR-Charles Chaplin
METROPOLIS-Fritz Lang
FURY-Lang
RANCHO NOTORIOUS-Lang
THE CROWD-King Vidor 

THE 400 BLOWS-Francois Truffaut
JULES AND JIM-Truffaut
ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT-Lewis Milestone
RAN-Akira Kurosawa
THE SEVEN SAMURAI-Kurosawa
MEPHISTO-Istvan Szabo
NIGHTS OF CABIRIA-Federico Fellini
8 ½-Fellini
LA DOLCE VITA-Fellini
OPEN CITY-Roberto Rosellini
THE ASPHALT JUNGLE-John Huston

NAKED CITY-Jules Dassin

THE CINCINATTI KID-Norman Jewison
THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR-Jewison
THE HUSTLER-Robert Rossen
GIANT-George Stevens
PLACE IN THE SUN-Stevens
PICKPOCKET-Robert Bresson
THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL-Vincente Minnelli
BREATHLESS-Jean-Luc Godard
WEEKEND-Godard
DOUBLE INDEMNITY-BillyWilder
THE LOST WEEKEND-Wilder
PURPLE NOON-Rene Clement
KING OF HEARTS-Phillipe DeBroca
THE TIN DRUM-Volker Schlondorff
THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING-Phillip Kaufman
A FACE IN THE CROWD-Elia Kazan
A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE-Kazan
DAS BOOT-Wolfgang Peterson
APU TRILOGY-PATHER PANCHALI,APARIJITO,THE WORLD OF APU)-Satyajit Ray
DIABOLIQUE-Georges Clouzot
THE FIREMAN’S BALL-Milos Forman
THE TESTAMENT OF ORPHEUS-Jean Cocteau                          
BIG DEAL ON MADONNA STREET-Mario Monicelli
LE SAMOURAI-Jean-Pierre Melville
TRISTANA-Luis Bunuel
THE MYSTERY OF KASPER HAUSER-Werner Herzog
HEART OF GLASS-Herzog
THE MARRIAGE OF MARIA BRAUN-Rainer Werner Fassbinder
LOLA MONTES-Max Ophuls

Ten years later, I’m still working on the list. To be fair, I’m only three titles shy, but still, the only grade I deem worthy from myself is an Incomplete.


So what remains? I actually had to turn off Jean Cocteau’s THE TESTAMENT OF ORPHEUS after about twenty minutes because I grew impatient with it. I meant to return to it some day but now it’s gone with the wind, maybe lost forever. I’ve never been able to track down Luis Bunuel’s TRISTANA or Werner Herzog’s HEART OF GLASS.

Don’t think I’ve been a slacker. Quite the contrary. I just have cinematic ADD. I couldn’t focus primarily on the list itself because almost every film open up a trail that led me off the beaten path to explore titles with the same director, in the same genre or even from the country of origin. One film begat another…or seven.

For example, two films from director Jules Dassin, NAKED CITY and BRUTE FORCE led me to the rest of his available filmography including NIGHT AND THE CITY, THIEVES HIGHWAY and NEVER ON SUNDAY. His work also plunged me headlong into unexplored territory in film noir. Coincidentally, a year before the list, I became enamored with French crime films after seeing his big heist classic RIFIFI. That’s how LE SAMOURAI and PICKPOCKET made the list.

I fell head over heels for the works of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger (BLACK NARCISSUS and THE RED SHOES), so I moved on to A CANTERBURY TALE and the absolutely amazing THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP. Fritz Lang’s METROPOLIS intrigued enough to experience THE TESTAMENT OF DR. MABUSE. I became mesmerized by Charlie Chaplin for the very first time with THE GREAT DICTATOR as well as Satyajit Ray for his APU trilogy (PATHER PANCHALI, APARAJITO and THE WORLD OF APU). And I found Elia Kazan’s A FACE IN THE CROWD to be as timely as it was back in 1957.

When I couldn’t find some of the 52, I drew up a second string of titles to draw from as well and that fed enough distractions enough for me to even stick to that list. Films on that list included Ozu’s TOKYO STORY, Bergman’s WILD STRAWBERRIES, Von Stroheim’s GREED, Capra’s MR. DEEDS GOES TO TOWN, Mann’s WINCHESTER 73, Fuller’s PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET, Miike’s AUDITION and Pontecorvo’s BATTLE OF ALGIERS.

As a direct result of the 52, the last decade was a crash course in film studies that has enriched my life as a cinephile like never before. However, it’s a double edged sword.

Not one single solitary title was viewed in the manner in which they were made, that is, on the fabled silver screen I saw them all at home. But with the various outlets at my disposal, I probably wouldn’t have been about them at all and for that, I am eternally grateful. If I feel a need to justify myself, I could just imagine that the 52 for 2002 was the menu from a gourmet restaurant where I ordered take-out. Why not? After all, the 52 allowed me to sample various flavors of the world, develop my  palette for more complex cuisines and wean me off of junk food enough to realize there is always something better out there. All you have to do is give it a taste. If you like it, you’ll want more and it’s yours for the asking.

There you have it. A metaphor for all seasons. Use judiciously. Apply directly. Repeat.

For more movie writings from the mind of me, try my book :
IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIMES IN A MOVIE THEATER
on sale now in paperback and digital

Red Asphalt: Under the Influence

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Plagiarism is a crime. Somewhere in the middle lies influence.

When I began writing, the voices of those artists and authors that passed before me kept whispering into my sub-conscious as I struggled to find my own voice. I didn’t try to ape anyone’s style or appropriate anyone’s prose, at least not intentionally. But the more that we are exposed to the works of others-the great, the good and sometimes even the bad, something is bond to stick. Once it’s all on the page, it’s pretty easy to spot the inspirations, allusions and furry lil’ copycats.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of structure. I basically had all the components for my movie memoir IN THE DARK, but didn’t really know how to tie it all together until I read Anthony Bourdain’s KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL and I’ve made no bones about it. I’m pleased that I was able to tell him that when I attended his book signing here in Portland back in 2003. (Bourdain also gets a cursory nod in PLEASE HOLD THUMBS)

For RED ASPHALT, since it was a novel, I thought I was starting fresh. Now in retrospect, it’s downright obvious to me who and what stimulated my imagination in one form or another as I scribbled my story. It’s high time I acknowledged them.

First up, CATCHER IN THE RYE by J.D. Salinger: To me, the first person narrative of a smart-ass loner who thinks he’s better than everyone is more than just a Holden Caulfield reference and more of a blatant steal. I unashamedly admit that RYE is my favorite novel of all time and even fantasized adapting it into a screenplay back in my twenties. Of course, I missed the point. I haven’t gotten smarter over time, but at least I finally recognize that this would have been impossible and realize the long lasting impression it has made on me since I first read it as a teenager.


TAXI DRIVER, written by Paul Schrader and directed by Martin Scorsese, obviously shares this theme as well. Travis Bickle is Holden Caulfield inside out and Calvin Wheeler is a degenerated clone. Travis’ wanting to rid society of the scum of the earth isn’t very different from Calvin’s wanting to be the World’s Handyman, fixing all of its problems. Shooting off the middle finger in my book could have come from the multiple digits in TAXI DRIVER.

(Jesus. CATCHER IN THE RYE and TAXI DRIVER. I’m a regular John Hinckley.)

Stephen King: The inclusion of the synopsis for ABRACADABRA, the book my main character is obsessed with writing, ain’t a far cry from what King did with MISERY. The tortured writer going over the brink is a familiar King device. Now it’s one of mine.

Oddly enough, Joel Schumacher’s FALLING DOWN, written by Ebbe Roe Smith is NOT on the list. This vigilante tale actually came out after I came up with the initial story for RED ASPHALT and it is because of this film that I shelved it for a few years until it became (hopefully) a distant memory. When I appeared on the MILES AROUND radio show to promote ASPHALT, one of the hosts mentioned it but since that was a nerve-wracking first media appearance for moi, I shrugged it off. The thing is that as much as I like FALLING DOWN, I had to distance myself from it for a couple of reasons. First of all was the similarity to my story. Second and most important was that ASPHALT is based in part on my job working as a lab courier for Smith-Kline Beecham Clinical Laboratories and my everyday uniform was identical to Michael Douglas’ wardrobe in FALLING DOWN. Too close for comfort. Good thing I wasn’t inspired by that show.

“Look out! Jm J Bullock has a gun!”

Anyway, I backed off of RED ASPHALT until near the end of the decade because of FALLING DOWN. Distancing myself from it for a period actually helped. I don’t recommend that tactic for everything. I have one project I’ve been trying to put together since Betty White was an ingénue for the same reasons as RED ASPHALT. Other works have popped up that are too damn similar. But at this rate, I’ll be dead before I’m anywhere near finished. It all becomes procrastination very quickly and that is a crippler of epic proportions.

I have no delusions of grandeur about my writing. I don’t think RED ASPHALT is fit to be mentioned in the same breath as the works of Salinger, Scorsese, Schrader, King or even Schumacher. But at the end of the day (somewhere around 11:30), whatever stimuli I digest filters through me, sometimes causing me to riff on their ideas, themes and ambiance, sometimes prompting (gasp!) originality.  Whenever inspiration strikes or from whatever source, it has to be welcomed with an open mind or it just ricochets into oblivion.

It's a gift. Treat it as such.

RED ASPHALT is available in paperback or Kindle on Amazon. To read an excerpt, please visit my website: WRITTEN BY SCOTT CHERNEY