“Would that it were so simple”
Hail, Caesar! and films about making films
Josh Brolin as Eddie Mannix and Tilda Swinton as Thessaly Thacker
As much hate as Netflix gets (and rightfully so) there is always a point in time where their movie selections really hit it out of the park. Such was a week in 2020, where I was able to watch three films that I now can confidently say are three of some of my favorite movies ever. The first of these was The Aviator (2004) by Martin Scorsese, a thrilling and wildly-turning overview of the life and demise of Howard Hughes, local Houston engineering, business, and entertainment mogul. The second was Mank (2020) by David Fincher, a quick-witted and stylish film about Herman J. Mankiewicz and his rush to complete the screenplay of Citizen Kane for director/actor Orson Welles in time for the production’s start. The third movie was Hail, Caesar! (2016) by Ethan and Joel Coen, an entertaining tale centered around 1940s Hollywood and the lengths people in places of power will go to in order to “maintain the bottom line”, so to speak.
As I began to ponder why I think so highly of these films and why they each have a seat at my “Favorite Film Dinner Party”, it became more and more clear how they ended up with an invitation. Each of these movies are about, well, movies. The first part of The Aviator documents Mr. Hughes’ obsession with perfection and accuracy despite impracticality. We see his drive to get every detail perfect during the production of Hell’s Angels, regardless of the financial burden and strain on his wealth. Originally finished as a silent film, he decided after shooting the entire thing that he wanted to convert it to a “talkie”, or a film with sound, and thus had to reshoot the entire production again, requiring a recast of many roles, and a meticulous effort in choreographing the dogfighting scenes in the air, with Hughes doing all of the direction via radio while in an airplane. The rest of the film covers the ever intensifying struggle with his OCD while working on government contracts, managing the TWA airline, difficulties with his love life, aviation crashes and near death experiences, fame and success, and his eventual isolation.
Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes
When I first watched Mank, it did not feel like a movie that was made in the 21st century. Shot in black and white and with many transitions and cuts not commonly used in today’s blockbusters, I felt as if I was consuming a piece of art from days long ago. While I did enjoy these peculiar aspects quite a bit, what drew me closer to this film was its dialogue. It felt like I was watching a black box warmup routine for stage actors. And while the dialogue was so quick and witty, each line that was uttered felt important and kept me on my toes, specifically during the cocktail hour and dinner party scenes. I read that a lot of the complaints about this movie were about its pacing and how it was rather “boring”. I didn’t feel that way one bit. The conversations that abound throughout the film display the intricate struggles and concerns of each and every character, bringing life through dialogue rather than picture.
Gary Oldman as Herman J. Mankiewicz
After watching Hail, Caesar! for the first time, I was left with the charm of Alden Ehrenreich’s Hobie Doyle, the brute (but introspective) nature of Josh Brolin’s Eddie Mannix, and the aloofness of George Clooney’s Baird Whitlock. I remember how simple the film felt, even if the premise was a bit ridiculous (a trademark of the Coen Brothers, I suppose). What I felt most of all was that the movie doesn’t portray any specific character as the protagonist. Each person is simply acting in a manner that the viewer would seem as logical given their circumstances. Even if Channing Tatum happens to be a Soviet spy, we don’t blame him for hopping into a submarine with his dog and dropping a briefcase full of cash into the Pacific. It’s a film that satirizes different groups in Hollywood during the 1940s. A pasquinade of the entire industry, if you will. We don’t feel the need to root for or against anyone. But when I watched the movie a second time around, I noticed how there seemed to be a distinct break between innocence and cynicism. We are charmed by Hobie Doyle and Carlotta Vasquez (Veronica Osorio) because, despite the space they occupy in Hollywood, they seem to be unaffected by the sinister values and ambitions of those who are truly in charge. This is not to say that they are better people than everyone else in the movie. It only highlights that their innocence appears to transcend the entire ecosystem of the 1940s film industry.
Alden Ehrenreich as Hobie Doyle and Michael Edelstein as Hobie’s Driver
At this point, the only thing that these three films have in common is that they are films about making films. There is no real common ground between the three in their story, tone, and filmmaking styles. But what I would like to do is try and piece together why I am drawn to them.
When I was in high school, I was a member of our school thespian troupe, and I always had loved working on stage productions. I built sets by hand (learned some useful carpentry skills in the process), hung and gelled lights, operated a fly and rigging system, helped organize scene changes and set movements, designed sounds as a foley artist, and helped run shows backstage with my friends. I loved it all and it definitely helped grow my appreciation for the arts as a whole. Each and every artist is out to create either an identity or an entire new world. That world is fictional or fashioned to fit that person’s ideology, but their art is a glimpse into the very substance of that world. It is an offer of a new perspective. We see a pretty painting and take it at face value but we often only perceive it as something that is congruent to our own reality or situation. Rarely are we aware of the artist’s true intentions behind a piece’s creation.
When I see a movie that is centered around the creative process, whether that involves a playwright or a filmmaker or a painter or a composer, I am transported back to that time where I was involved in that same process. We were trying to create a glimpse into the world that our production resided in. How do we find a satisfactory alignment between our abilities (what we are capable of together) and what we are trying to say (the glimpse into our world)? So as I started to write about Mank and Hail, Caesar! and The Aviator, I am reminded that these films are heavily invested in characters that CREATE. I see Herman Mankiewicz downing his gin while bedridden, revising and editing Citizen Kane. I see Howard Hughes orchestrating fly patterns like an obsessed maniac from above. I see Eddie Mannix lifting a lamenting Baird Whitlock out of his chair and slapping him across the face, reminding him that “the picture has worth”. Each of these people want to tell a story; a peeling back of the curtain into the world they want to share.
When I watch these movies about making movies, I sometimes forget that I am watching, well, a movie. I feel like a fly on the wall. I observe the filmmaking world in that story and take it for what it is. Their world is now mine for the next two hours. The subplots don’t have to intertwine. The characters can be caricatures. The plot can be linear. There doesn’t have to be a climax or a penultimate moment. That is how LIFE itself can be. And I guess that is why I love them. I am not sitting on the edge of my seat the entire time. I am not compelled to cross my fingers and hope for the best. I see both the filth and the joys of humanity. I can be both confused and incredibly aware, and it doesn’t bother me either way. I find my own argument funny. That the fictional lives of those working to develop a fictional world inside a fictional world might somehow feel more REAL than the stories in your run-of-the-mill blockbuster. It certainly feels that way to me.
