Monday at the Movies - June 24, 2013

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies” – this week, we massage the title of this feature by profiling two HBO biopics from the past year.

Behind the Candelabra (2013) – “Too much of a good thing is wonderful,” the late Liberace was fond of saying, but the trouble with Behind the Candelabra is that there’s not enough of a good thing to be wonderful in the first place.  Ostensibly Steven Soderbergh’s last film, this biopic stars Michael Douglas as the flamboyant pianist who woos Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) in a complicated and torrid relationship not unlike the stuff of Lifetime movies.  Therein lies the problem; the story as we have it isn’t substantive enough to sustain a full two hours without feeling thin or repetitive.  As is often the case in biopics like this, Michael Douglas is note-perfect as Liberace, capturing the extravagance of the performer while layering in just enough of the creepy menace the film suggests was key to understanding Liberace (then again, when is Douglas not exceptional?).  Doing less exceptional work by virtue of being in the shadow of a great performance, Damon’s Scott Thorson is also less compelling, largely due to Damon’s failure to transcend his own ethos in the way Douglas does; moreover, Damon as Scott is petulant and largely static, equal parts the fault of the slim script and the muscled actor.  Kudos, though, to the makeup department for creating a lifelike Liberace and an uncanny doppelganger after Scott undergoes plastic surgery to look more like his lover.  Keep your eyes peeled for a gaggle of cameos – Dan Aykroyd, Rob Lowe, Paul Reiser, and an unforgettable Debbie Reynolds as Liberace’s mum – though ultimately the film is a great deal like Liberace himself:  talented, but more style than substance.

Phil Spector (2013) – Pacino, Mirren, Mamet.  Throw these three into a crazy (semi-) true story, and I’m there.  Oddly, the film begins with a disclaimer absolving itself of facticity, a bizarre technique which distances the audience until the true game reveals itself.  What David Mamet’s really after is a character study unfettered by pragmatic (and legal) concerns, profiling defense attorney Linda Kenney Baden (Helen Mirren) as she’s drawn into the entirely strange orbit of famed music producer Phil Spector (Al Pacino) when he’s accused of murder.  The film wisely avoids finger-pointing (indeed, the film leans toward but never fully endorses Spector’s innocence), and it’s to Pacino’s credit that he reins in his stereotypical “big voice” for a more subdued portrait.  The real star – and the vehicle which communicates the degree to which Spector seems wholly unhinged – is Mamet’s dialogue, as snappy as it’s ever been.  In many ways more a stage play than a fully cinematic film, Mamet’s script includes long dialogues, compelling conversation pieces where the restrained delivery allows us to appreciate the subtext; it’s especially worth rewatching the conversations between Spector and Baden, as the former reveals his madness while the latter, astoundingly, becomes convinced of his legal innocence.  Pacino pulls back, as I’ve noted, but Mirren really lets loose the full range of her craft; Baden is suffering from pneumonia during the trial and – like Cosmo Kramer’s gonorrhea – you feel it all the way in the back row.  It may not be the all-out crazy train that the actual trial was, but Mamet’s script is riveting in a slow-burn kind of way.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Top 10 Christmas Season Movies - #4-3

This week, in anticipation of the Christmas season, we at The Cinema King would like to bring you more than just your usual share of recommendations.  So we present to you:  this week’s Top 10 list.  More specifically “The Top 10 Christmas Season Movies.”  Rather than fill the list with “obvious” choices of Christmas-y movies, there are a few “alternative” choices on the list – the overarching determining criterion is whether or not this is a movie that I will watch beginning to end, especially during (but not limited to) the Christmas season.

#4 – The Godfather (1972)
Honestly, The Godfather belongs on any Top 10 list this side of Hollywood, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that it landed here.  When I reviewed it back in April, I couldn’t say enough nice things about it, and my most recent rewatch reminded me just how perfect this film is.  So it meets the year-round requirement, because there’s honestly never a day that I wouldn’t watch this movie if I had the three hours to spare.  But what makes this movie seasonally appealing is that the end of the first act is set during the holiday seasons, a detail most might not remember.  To be fair, there’s so much about this film that’s unforgettable, and Christmas is perhaps a small detail on which to fixate.  But when the Don is shot by Sollozzo’s goons, Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) is out Christmas shopping, Michael (Al Pacino) is at a holiday matinee with his girl Kay (Diane Keaton), and snow falls amid the Christmas lights adorning the hospital where the Don lays in state.  Although Sollozzo is insincere when he bids Tom “Merry Christmas!” the cheer the film brings is a fine fit for the festive season.

#3 – The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Tim Burton for the hat-trick!  Though he didn’t direct The Nightmare Before Christmas (Henry Selick did), his influence as producer and story-writer is acutely felt in this holiday double-dipper, suitable for Halloween and for Christmas.  Be honest, you already know all the lines by heart, and there’s a little part of you that can’t help but sing “What’s This?” every time you see the first snowfall of the season (which, up in my neck of the woods, still has yet to be).  As the spooky setting of Halloween Town gives way to the cheery bliss of Christmas Town, share in the sense of magic and wonder as Jack Skellington (voiced by Chris Sarandon and Danny Elfman) rediscovers all that is charming about the December holiday.  Even though the residents of Halloween Town (spoilers?) get it wrong in the end, the spirit of Christmas – embodied by Santa Claus – reminds them that their hearts were in the right place, and the sweetness of the film is matched only by its infectious enthusiasm for its own unique concept.

Come back tomorrow for the epic conclusion:  Movies #2-1!  Place your bets now, ladies and gentlemen...

Monday at the Movies - July 16, 2012

Welcome to Week Twenty-Six of “Monday at the Movies.” With The Dark Knight Rises only five days away, we’re kicking off a week of exciting content focused around Christopher Nolan, the man behind this generation’s definitive interpretation of the Batman mythos.  Throughout the week we’ll be looking at the trilogy, but today let’s take a few minutes to revisit the body of work which preceded “The Dark Knight Trilogy.”

On the docket for this installment of “Monday at the Movies,” we have reviews of the three Christopher Nolan films not yet covered on this site; we also have links to coverage of films we’ve already reviewed so you can see our assessment of each film in context.  Happy reading!

 Following (1998) – I was in disbelief that I’d never seen Christopher Nolan’s first film, recognizing that it was high time I patch that hole in my cinematic CV.  Following introduces many of the classic Nolan characteristics – nonlinear smart writing which plays with the audience’s expectation and understanding, obsessed characters who dress stylishly, moral ambiguity – and uses them without the disappointing incapacity of an underdeveloped filmmaker.  Bill (Jeremy Theobald) is an aspiring writer who begins following pedestrians for inspiration, but the game is turned when he follows Cobb (Alex Haw, of no relation to Dom Cobb from Inception), a burglar who enlists Bill’s help in a few break-ins.  In classic Nolan fashion, the film functions much like a puzzle box, with at least three distinct timeframes narrated simultaneously and disorienting the viewer.  The film begins somewhat slowly, with Theobald’s narration a bit less than inspiring (though still leagues better than Kevin Costner’s in Dances with Wolves), but once Cobb enters the picture things become vastly more interesting, in part because Haw is both charismatic and enigmatic and because many of the twists in Nolan’s screenplay revolve around Cobb’s real motivations.  The film is, unfortunately, very short (69 minutes, including credits), and I can’t help feeling that the film would have been stronger with 20 more minutes; while the structure is similar to that of Memento, the final twist ending has none of the weight of Memento’s, mostly because the film answers all our questions.  The ending may be neater than we’ve come to expect, but Following is one of the strongest first films I’ve ever seen, sharp and slender.

Memento (2000)
 
Insomnia (2002) – Christopher Nolan’s only remake and only directorial outing for which he didn’t also write the screenplay, Insomnia is also the least Nolan-esque Nolan film, but if it’s the least successful film on today’s list it’s still far and away better than a lot of what Hollywood has to offer.  But let’s be clear – Insomnia is not a bad movie; it’s a taut psychological thriller grounded in strong performances.  But I’m having trouble seeing it as a Christopher Nolan film.  There are no Nolan regulars here – Al Pacino stars as Detective Will Dormer, a homicide expert investigating an Alaskan murder with the help of Hilary Swank, while the killer (Robin Williams in classic creepy form) taunts him from afar.  The film, like every Nolan film, is about obsession, both the killer’s obsession with his victim and Dormer’s obsession with closing the case; the Alaskan setting, however, becomes the focus of the film as it begins to weigh on Dormer’s psyche, impairing his ability to sleep and ultimately function as a human being.  Rather than utilize a structure which forces the audience into a character’s shoes, Insomnia opts to represent as starkly as possible Dormer’s deteriorating consciousness; it’s a fine distinction, to be sure, but it proves how deft a filmmaker Nolan really is.  It’s comparably easier to confuse an audience while a character is confused, but it’s a bit more difficult to craft a film in such a way that we feel Dormer’s insomnia without staying up for five nights in a row.  And Nolan does what few have been able to do in the last decade – elicit a solid performance from Pacino.

Batman Begins (2005)

The Prestige (2006) – Before Inception, this was the film that made me think the hardest, and it’s guaranteed to leave you scratching your noodle.  Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale play rival magicians bound up in a cycle of revenge and one-upsmanship with the women in their lives (Piper Perabo, Rebecca Hall, and Scarlett Johansson) and their mutual assistant (the ever-avuncular Michael Caine) caught in the middle.  With The Prestige, Nolan returns to interwoven chronologies in a story that warns you in advance to be on guard for a twist – “the prestige,” the moment in a magic act when the magician performs the unexpected.  But what the film doesn’t tell you (and it won’t be spoiling anything to do so) is that there are multiple prestiges in the film, at least one for each of the three acts of the film with several right at the end.  It’s ingenious storytelling, regardless of what you think of the story itself; while some complained that the twists were “unfair” or “unintelligible,” Nolan continually reinvents the film to prevent us the filmgoers from ever getting too far ahead of the protagonists.  In this way, Nolan proves himself a master of “movie magic” (whatever that is), expertly controlling what we see and don’t see, leaving us to puzzle out not “who” and “why” like most thrillers but instead forcing us to wonder “how” – how the magician does his trick, how the story will end, and how two hours can whiz by so quickly.

The Dark Knight (2008)

Inception (2010)

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week for more brief reviews, but don’t forget to stick around for tomorrow’s debut installment of an exciting new series – “Armrest Reviews” – in which we’ll reassess Batman Begins on the eve of the trilogy’s final installment.  Stay tuned!

Monday at the Movies - June 11, 2012

Welcome to Week Twenty-Two of “Monday at the Movies,” in which the Cinema King revisits some of his childhood favorites.

Dick Tracy (1990) – Of the two films under consideration this week, Dick Tracy is the one that has not had the same effect on me in the twenty years since I first saw it.  If nothing else, Dick Tracy is as close as film came to translating comics (before Sin City came along, at least).  Its colors are vibrant and its morals are downright Manichaean, making it an easy film to watch.  Director Warren Beatty also stars as the comic strip detective in a yellow coat, but it’s the criminals at whom he fires his signature tommy gun that steal the audience’s attention: Al Pacino as Big Boy Caprice, William Forsythe as Flattop, and Madonna as torch singer Breathless Mahoney.  But while the colors look great and lend the film a very intriguing visual style, the film hasn’t aged well in terms of substance.  Some of the performances come across as wooden (though I suspect Beatty is deliberately one-note as the do-gooder, Madonna’s work isn’t captivating), while others (ahem, Pacino) are overly blustery and cringe-worthy.  What sells the movie is that it’s populated by tons of high concepts and interesting visuals, characters with cool faces or wacked-out wardrobes, but Dick Tracy is almost overpopulated, and as a result some elements don’t make sense at the end.  I’d have liked to have seen more of Dustin Hoffman as Mumbles (an apt moniker), but as it is I’m still not certain what motivated a few characters, especially The Blank (“No-Face” in my childhood parlance).  Rewatching Dick Tracy brought back memories (especially of the complete trading card set I collected), but through my rose-tinted glasses I recognize that there is a truly great movie waiting to be made with Chester Gould’s source material.

The Rocketeer (1991) – The Rocketeer, however, has aged remarkably well and remains one of my all-time favorite superhero movies (a list, I suppose, I’ll have to make once I get around to Top-10’ing this site).  It might even be one of my all-time favorite movies, period, if only because I can’t watch it without my mood changing for the better.  If you’ve never seen it, for shame.  Billy Campbell stars as Cliff Secord, who discovers a rocket-pack designed by Howard Hughes (Terry O’Quinn); with the help of his mechanic Peevy (Alan Arkin), Cliff becomes The Rocketeer to save his girlfriend Jenny Blake (Jennifer Connelly at her most beautiful) from dashing Nazi actor Neville Sinclair (Timothy Dalton).  Really, the only thing preventing this film from being a perfect one is that it’s a little cheesy in parts, but I’ve found that a bit of nostalgia goes great with cheese.  The performances here are solid and endearing, and the 1930s atmosphere is pulled off with such grace that it’s no wonder director Joe Johnston was later asked to helm another period-piece superhero flick, Captain America: The First Avenger.  The Rocketeer is a lot like the Indiana Jones franchise, but with more heart than you might expect; while the superheroics are all top-notch, the movie is surprisingly earnest in its sentiment.  Campbell and Connelly are almost star-crossed as lovers, and the development of their relationship over the course of the film elicited a surprise mistiness in my ocular region.  That’s right, true believers, a more emotional filmgoer might have wept at The Rocketeer.  Even if you don’t cry, The Rocketeer is such delightful fun that you’ll want to watch it again once the credits roll.  Oh, hell:  maybe it is perfect.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Monday at the Movies - May 28, 2012

Welcome to Week Twenty of “Monday at the Movies.”  On tap this week:  a few threequels, nostalgia, and Gary Cooper’s Cinema King debut.

The Godfather: Part III (1990) – Part III has become a kind of punchline, shorthand for the unnecessary and subpar sequel.  Even Francis Ford Coppola has tried to distance himself by labeling this merely an “epilogue.”  To be sure, Part III has its flaws – first, it is not the brilliance of The Godfather, nor does it enhance the original as Part II did.  Second, Robert Duvall is absent, courtesy of a contract dispute.  Third, Sofia Coppola as Michael’s daughter... well, you’ve heard all the jokes, and they’re all accurate.  But the film has its positives, too, often neglected in the dead faint to insult the film.  Seeing Michael make good on his promises to legitimize is satisfying, and Andy Garcia’s role as Vincent Mancini (the illegitimate son of Sonny Corleone) ought to have been a star-making one, since his work is compelling and entertaining with a respectful dash of James Caan thrown in for appropriate measure.  I had said that Part II was a sequel to a film that didn’t need one, but Part III is a sequel – pardon, epilogue – that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the franchise.  Al Pacino in particular, genius that he was in the earlier films, seems inconsistent; he’s more bluster a la Devil’s Advocate than the quiet man we last saw on the park bench at the end of Part II.  Where Talia Shire successfully navigates the interim to portray Connie as, at last, her father’s daughter, it’s difficult to see a more happy-go-lucky Michael with only glimpses of how tortured he ought to be.  Part III isn’t enjoyable in the way that the first two are, although it’s fun to see the way that it reflects and refracts its predecessors; we have a mass execution of the dons, a romantic confession in a kitchen, a trip to Italy, a passing of the torch complete with ring kissing, and Diane Keaton still left in the doorframe, but they mean different things here and serve as fun nods to those in the know.  Ultimately, the film concludes as every Godfather film ought to – a bloody settling of accounts – and Pacino all but redeems himself at the tragic opera finale.  Forget Fredo – it was you, Al; you broke my heart.  Required viewing, if only to conclude the saga, but there’s a reason it never stands shoulder to shoulder with its older, more sophisticated brothers.

Midnight in Paris (2011) – It surprises me that this is the first Woody Allen film I’ve reviewed on this blog, since I’ve practically lived the movie Annie Hall (right down to the awkward primary school education of a precocious bespectacled redhead) and love a whole host of his other films (especially Play It Again, Sam; The Purple Rose of Cairo; and Match Point).  And on the advice of so many of my colleagues who know literature like I do, I checked out Midnight in Paris on the strength of the premise:  Owen Wilson plays the stock Woody Allen character who roams the streets of Paris and slips through time into the 1920s to meet literary icons like F. Scott Fitzgerald (Tom “Loki” Hiddleston), Ernest Hemingway (a spot-on Corey Stoll), and Gertrude Stein (Kathy Bates).  Unfortunately, Midnight in Paris is a film that never quite lives up to its conceit; it’s a fantastic idea, don’t get me wrong, but it’s mismanaged and underutilized.  I’d much rather see a Hiddleston/Stoll buddy biopic of Fitzgerald and Hemingway than the Owen Wilson movie we get.  Premise aside, there’s not much original here:  Wilson plays the same Woody Allen character we’ve seen a million times, Rachel McAdams is Regina George, all grown up; Michael Sheen plays the cuckolding academic, another Allen-trope; and Wilson’s life-changing revelation is as plain as... well, the nose on his face.  The best parts of the movie are the scenes when the writers take center stage, but these moments are not frequent enough, and indeed not all of them work (although Adrien Brody as Salvador Dalí is quite entertaining); all told, Midnight in Paris is a bit like an episode of Saturday Night Live – a few good sketches worth rewatching but overall less than enjoyable.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) – The combination of Frank Capra and Gary Cooper is enough to get my butt in the seat.  I’ve long been nostalgic for the simpler world Capra’s films present, and I’ve made holiday traditions out of It’s a Wonderful Life and Arsenic and Old Lace.  And after High Noon and especially The Fountainhead, Gary Cooper can do no wrong in my eyes.  Here Cooper plays simple man Longfellow Deeds, an aspirant poet who inherits $20 million (upwards of $311 million today) and finds that all that glitters isn’t quite golden.  Like later Capra/Cooper joint Meet John Doe (1941), Deeds becomes the center of a media frenzy, courtesy of romantic interest and newspaper spy Babe Bennett (Jean Arthur).  In the final analysis, Mr. Deeds isn’t my favorite Capra film (Arsenic and Old Lace takes that cake, meaning I should probably get around to reviewing it on here).  There are parts that take a bit too long for anything to happen, and the slapstick comedy isn’t as prevalent here as I might have liked on a Sunday evening.  Moreover, almost all of the characters in the film are extremely unlikeable, even Bennett, who doesn’t atone for her sins until the very end of the picture.  Fortunately, though, Cooper is one of those actors who’s so charismatic that his hard work redeems many of a film’s flaws; his performance here is consistently and satisfactorily compelling, charmingly entertaining and touchingly empathetic.  To paraphrase former dean of American pop culture Tony Soprano, “Whatever happened to Gary Cooper?”

Superman III (1983) – First things first, this is not a Superman movie.  Unlike the two films that preceded it, Superman III doesn’t star Christopher Reeve as the Man of Steel, even though he finally gets top billing.  Rather, this is a Richard Pryor movie in which his character, Gus Gorman, attempts to pull one over on Superman by manipulating computers, weather satellites, and giant foam cowboy hats.  The greatest compliment I paid the RichardDonner cut of Superman II was that it excised a lot of Richard Lester’s slapstick inclinations; unfortunately, those inclinations are given full rein here, most egregiously in the moment when Pryor skis down the side of a skyscraper while wearing a pink tablecloth as a cape.  It’s a real shame, because there’s a great Superman movie in here somewhere.  Reeve is doing continually solid work as the Last Son of Krypton, especially when defective Kryptonite transforms him into a dark reflection of himself.  What’s more, his scenes opposite Annette O’Toole as former flame Lana Lang are a fulfilling fill-in for his relationship with the absent Lois Lane (a shame, since Margot Kidder’s portrayal is definitive).  But Lester’s priorities are clear; he’s more interested in Pryor’s twitchy brand of humor than in superheroics, more in the villains than in the film’s ostensible hero.  Worse, the villains on which the film focuses are nowhere near as interesting as the posthuman-converting computer, an apparent riff on the comics’ Brainiac; I’d much rather have seen Superman square off against an army of robot people than the would-be moguls herein.  When the chips are down, color me a Donner fan.  It’ll take a lot of work out of Zack Snyder next year to make me a true believer.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!  And stay tuned, because later this week I’ll be bringing you a full review of yet another threequel – this time, it’s Men In Black III!

Monday at the Movies - April 30, 2012

Welcome to Week Eighteen of “Monday at the Movies.” Just when you thought we were out, we’re pulled back in to the world of The Godfather!

The Godfather: Part II (1974) – There are those who say the sequel is better than the 1972 original. I don’t know about all that (I’m incredibly fond of the first Godfather), but Part II is every bit as good as the film that preceded it. Simultaneously a prequel and a sequel, Part II juxtaposes the rise of immigrant Vito Corleone (Robert De Niro) with the tenure of his son Michael (Al Pacino) as he contends with moves for legitimacy in the Vegas casino industry, an assassination attempt facilitated by a betrayal from within, a Congressional inquisition, and a smiling enemy (Lee Strasberg as Hyman Roth) attempting to slide a knife in his back. For my money, the Vito chapters are stronger, although I appreciate the Michael scenes more each time I see the film for two reasons: one, I enjoy the difficult plot the more I understand it and recognize the subtlety; and two, Al Pacino’s performance here is likely his all-time career best. (Take, for example, the exchange between him and his wife when Kay tells him she’s taking the children.) As before, the supporting cast excels: Robert Duvall’s work as Tom Hagen reminds me how empty that part of Part III felt, De Niro and Bruno Kirby are spot-on as Vito and Clemenza without feeling slavishly bound to the original actors, and John Cazale absolutely steals the movie as the malleable brother Fredo. In fact, Pacino and Cazale have what I maintain is the best scene of the film, a boathouse confessional which should have netted an Oscar for both; theirs is the relationship which anchors the film, for which I find myself, as I get older, returning to the film more than for the Vito plotline, which is amusing and entertaining, a lighter counterpart to the heavy burden with which Michael finds himself saddled by the film’s end. The first film needed no sequel, but the second proved how much more could be added to the saga; having only seen the third installment once, I’ll be curious to see if it transcends this film’s sense of completion.

Stay tuned for the final Godfather review. But for now, that does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Monday at the Movies - April 16, 2012

Welcome to Week Sixteen of “Monday at the Movies.” Only one film this week, one that makes me think I really ought to put up a “Top 10 Movies” list.

The Godfather (1972) – Forty years and one month ago, a film widely regarded the best of all time opened in American cinemas. Based on the brutally popular Mario Puzo novel, The Godfather has achieved iconic status in global pop culture, rendering any comments I might add as mere kindling to the inferno. Everyone knows the story – Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) runs one of New York’s top mob families, and as the film progresses we witness his son Michael (Al Pacino) move from war hero to father’s son. What struck me about this most recent rewatch was the way that every scene is memorable, with no moments of dry disinterest. We move from the wedding to the backroom deals to assassination plots, through a tour of Italy to rises and falls in the Corleone family, concluding with the often-imitated baptism montage and the film’s final moments, which imbue as much gravitas on a closing door as possible. The dialogue is snappy and eminently quotable, the performances are riveting, Nino Rota’s soundtrack is the ultimate in mafia music, and director Francis Ford Coppola set the standard for what every other mob movie now has to live up to. There's so much more that I could say about the film, so much that deserves mention - James Caan's hotheaded Sonny, Robert Duvall's perfectly collected Tom Hagen, Richard S. Castellano's lovable heavy Clemenza (who wouldn't want this guy at a wedding?), and even Abe Vigoda's work as Tessio, proving that he hasn't aged a day since 1972 because he's been 90 all his life. And in an era where we’re texting and multitasking to our brain’s fullest capacity, I was flabbergasted that the film’s three-hour runtime never bored me or forced me to grab my iPad to check e-mails or Facebook. So strong is the allure of this film after more than forty years that it’s as close to Italian wine as film has captured – improving with age and making us look forward to the next installment. My only regret is that I didn’t have time this week to return for the sequel, but reviewing the next films in the series is an offer I cannot refuse.

Stay tuned for more reviews of The Godfather franchise, but for now that does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

My Idols.

I suppose in a lot of ways I'm just trying to do what these guys are doing.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

If Spike Lee's 2006 Inside Man is the perfect bank robbery, then Sidney Lumet's Dog Day Afternoon has to be the worst. Al Pacino (as Sonny) and John Cazale (as Sal) lead the cast and the heist, which goes askew in almost every way possible.

For starters, Sonny doesn't disable the security cameras for about two minutes in the robbery. Furthermore, the intended third robber runs away from the bank, too nervous to point a gun at the security guard. A burning bank register alerts the insurance salesman across the street, and within minutes the place is surrounded by cops.

And it's downhill from there for poor Sonny and Sal.

Fans of The Godfather will love seeing Michael and Fredo Corleone reunite here a year after The Godfather, Part II was released. In many respects, Dog Day Afternoon allows both actors to play polar opposites of the roles that made them famous. Sonny, who bumbles his way through the robbery so that he can buy his lover a---er, I won't spoil the surprise. And Sal couldn't be farther removed from Fredo; where Fredo was the bumbler, Sal is cold and prepared to throw bodies at the police, while taking the time to worry about a smoker's immortal soul.

Lumet's direction, with which I've been peripherally familiar through his work in Network and Murder on the Orient Express, does a great job of injecting humor into the almost pitiful display the botched robbery elicits, also successfully capturing the scope of the media circus that revolves around Sonny - a true master of the media without even knowing it. My only complaint with Lumet is that the film drags a bit in two scenes that should have been more powerful - one where Sonny talks with his lover on the phone and the other where Sonny, fearing he will not live through the night, draws up his last will and testament. Though Pacino's acting is stellar in both scenes, some long takes and grinding-to-a-halt of the plot hurt the film.

But these are small details, and the viewer won't come away remembering those two scenes as the most memorable scenes. No, the moment where Sonny chants "Attica!" in response to police brutality has become the stuff of film legend; the interplay between despair and friendship between the hostages and robbers also set the film apart from similar heist movies.

By the film's end, Sonny and Sal aren't villains. They're anti-heroes at best, people driven to desperate measures by similarly desperate times. They're human, flawlessly characterized and impeccably sympathetic. Without ruining the movie, I will only say that I come away from it - as I imagine most viewers will - with the nagging query of, "What would I do?"

Isn't that the mark of a good film? Shouldn't it leave you wondering, empathizing, and recalling? Dog Day Afternoon certainly does.

And did I mention it's a true story?