This is a gorgeous, well-contextualized restoration of one of the greatest and most mercenary of all American comedies.
Hawks’s western arrives in a handsome dual-format package from Criterion including the long-unavailable theatrical cut of the film.
That multitude, with regard to films, is rather restricted to a specific kind of cinephilia, primarily an overt emphasis on Classical Hollywood.
Perhaps the weakest points of the book are in some of Meeuf’s prose, particularly when discussing masculinity.
Of course, film ain’t fiction, so to speak, and his first book length effort on crime films is like a Webley revolver with a sticky trigger; it works, just not as fluidly or efficiently as one would like.
The most creative periods for the movies seem to occur about every 30 years, usually triggered by the advent of some new technology.
It was good to get out of my element and visit a world I never even knew existed.
All invasion stories are allegorical, which makes this pair of movies a perfect vehicle to debut this series of essays.
Although the plot and star have been recycled, El Dorado is still a gold standard of the western genre.
The film’s optimistic integration of intellectual and physical impulses lends it a feeling of wholeness closer to Howard Hawks’s later, more serene films.
You’d have to go to Barbara Billingsley for another jive session this enjoyable.
An uneven set illustrates the facets of Cooper's persona. Worth it for fans? Yup.