Hey folks. Hope this email … finds you. Know it’s a tough day for some who were hoping for justice for Breonna Taylor. Black women deserve better, period.
Marching around my apartment in quarantine like
In the event that you’ve clicked the “See past recommendations” button at the bottom of this newsletter, arrived on Letterboxd and wondered, “Where am I?” … I’ve got a story for you! Scott Tobias, writing for The Ringer, broke down the rise and reign of Letterboxd, a social media-like app for logging watches of and conversing about movie. Worth a read for users and the uninitiated alike!
Perhaps this might have made a little more sense if I had read (or shared) it on the first day of fall yesterday, but I still think it’s worth your time and pondering today as the season still feels changing. Katherine Miller at BuzzFeed writes “Where Does America Go After the COVID-19 Pandemic Summer?” It’s one of those rare essays that captures not just events that happened but also something intangible about the national character.
Also, today in made up holidays … happy National Arthouse Cinema Day! I’m going to throw some shine on my former employer, a/perture cinema of Winston-Salem, NC, which is in a fight for its very existence. A place like a/perture is more than just a movie theater — it’s a vibrant cultural hub that’s deeply interwoven with the city’s very social fabric. If you know it, fellow Deac alums (or even if you don’t), show them some love today!
Now, what you came for…
DAY 195: The Bridge on the River Kwai (available on Amazon Prime)
The phrase “epic” is a bit like “iconic,” its true power dulled from overuse that’s detached from the word’s actual meaning. Movies like David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai serve as potent reminders that when the term gets used to describe a cinematic genre, it really means something. This is a film of tremendous scope and scale, a 160-minute commitment of time that earns both admiration and awe. It might sound like a slog, but there’s hardly an ounce of fat on this film — and the final 15 minutes reward your patient attention with a climax that hits with the force of a gathering tidal wave.
The film is a WWII story unlike any other, slyly raising questions of patriotism, duty and identity within its engaging premise. The Bridge on the River Kwai begins as British POWs under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Nicholson (Alec Guinness, who would later become best known as Obi-Wan Kenobi) arrive at a Japanese prison camp in Burma. Nicholson expects adherence to the Geneva Conventions from his captors, and he finds little in the way of humanity or dignity from commanding officer Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa). Nicholson’s British refinement and chivalry clashes with Saito’s brute, unapologetic use of force.
The two warring factions can only reach a successful easing tensions when Nicholson agrees to help with the unthinkable. Saito is in desperate need to save his own hide by constructing a bridge that will help Japanese trains travel between Bangkok and Rangoon, and he finds a willing accomplice in Nicholson and his men. The British officer surmises that he can keep morale up amongst his men by applying their ingenuity to a task that befuddles the Japanese troops. And a successful build by high British standards would, to Nicholson’s mind, prove the intellectual superiority of his nation.
There’s just one hitch: American Lieutenant Commander Shears (William Holden), who escaped from the POW camp to the beachside bliss of a British colony in the South Pacific. The British wrangle him back into action to sabotage the bridge operation and figure out what’s gone on with their rogue group of soldiers. Reluctantly and sardonically, Shears obliges and sets up a cinematic showdown for the ages. The Bridge on the River Kwai makes for one of the most fascinating examinations of the war-torn psyche, and its intellectual observations are driven home with its unforgettable conclusion.
Trust me on this — you won’t know that David Lean has been twisting your stomach into knots like it’s an empty water bottle until the cap blasts off in the finale. It’s a sensation unlike any other. Truly epic, one might say.
Be good to yourselves and to each other,
Marshall