The City of Lost Children (1995)

One (Ron Perlman) is a Russian whale hunter. Well, used to be. He can't do it anymore. Now he performs as a circus strong man. Breaks chains. That sort of thing. Denree (Joseph Luien) is his adopted little brother. All he does is eat. One night, someone stabs their manager. As they watch over their wounded friend, a group of strange men, each with one mechanical eye, attack them and steal Denree. One sets out in search of him through the twisting streets and alleyways of Marc Callo's and Jean-Pierre Jeunet's The City of Lost Children. Along the way, One meets Miette (Judith Vittet), a young orphan girl who agrees to help One finds his little brother. But their quest is not an easy one. There is danger everywhere. They are chased by the governess of the orphanage where Miette used to live, the evil Siamese twins, la Pieuvre (Genvieve Brunet and Odile Mallet) who use their wards to steal for them. They employ Marcello (Jean-Claude Dreyfus) who uses a trained flea and a secret serum to drive people into homicidal rages. The flea triggers one of the most wonderful chain-of-event sequences that I have ever seen in any movie. It's right out of a Warner Brothers cartoon. Anyway, One and Miette discover that Danree has been kidnapped by a secret group called the Cyclopes, blind men who have mechanical eyes installed in their heads. They kidnap children for the mysterious Krank (Daniel Amilfork), who can no longer dream, and so he exists on the dreams of children. One and Miette invade Krank's lair on an abandoned oil rig, rescue Danree and all of the other children, and leave as the rig is demolished by Krank's half-crazed father.

Okay, I'm gonna warn you right now. The City of Lost Children is not to everyone's taste. It's a quirky film whose plot mirrors the labyrinthine streets of the city in which it is set. But I love this movie. It's a visual feast, full of color, shadows, and textures. The sets are unbelievable. They're almost like a cartoon of reality, yet they're real sets, not computer animated fabrications, like in Sky Captain. Every scene is packed with crumbling brick and weathered wood, rain-slick cobble stones, rusted steel. It begs to be touched. You feel this movie more than watch it. You watch it more than listen to it. You listen because you cannot help yourself. The haunting musical score pulls you into this 1930s French port city, and you go along following the clues that will lead One and Miette back to Danree. I also love the relationship that forms between One and Miette, as he grows to care for this little girl who's on the cusp of adolescence. He carries her around when her shoes wear out, massages her feet when they get sore, warms her up when she gets cold. Don't go thinking bad thoughts now. It's all innocent. One may be over six feet tall and strong as an ox, but mentally he's a child himself. Miette takes care of him, just as much as he takes care of her. In the end, you know that One, Miette and Denree will be a happy family.

The City of Lost Children is rated R, and this gives me a great opportunity to rant and rave about the rating system in this country. There is absolutely no reason to give this film an R rating. There is no sex, and the only profanity used in the film is a word that every child over the age of ten has heard many times over. Yes, there is violence and some disturbing imagery, but it's far less than appeared in the PG-13 rated Lord of the Rings movies. My personal opinion is that the R rating was punitive, meant to reduce the number of teenagers who might otherwise have seen and enjoyed this exquisite French movie. Why this should be, I do not know. I only know that the R rating is completely undeserved.

The Petrified Forest (1936)

Far out in the Arizona desert sits a small gas station and diner. It's a dusty, ramshackle sort of place, the kind of establishment that used to dot the landscape of rural America in the days before cookie-cutter chain gas stations and fast food joints moved in. You can fill your tank, check your oil, make sure your radiator is topped off, then grab a bite to eat and be on your way again. You always go on your way again. This is the kind of place that people pass through. No one ever stops here. It's run by Jason Maple (Porter Hall), a veteran of World War I and a man of no importance except in his own mind. He's helped out by his father, Gramps (Charlie Grapewin), and his daughter, Gabrielle (Bette Davis). There are a couple of hired hands too - a cook (Nina Campana) and a gas pump attendant named Boze (Dick Foran). Together, they keep the place running, feed the hungry customers and their thirsty cars. Jason and Gramps dream of their past glories; Gabrielle dreams of her future ones. She wants to leave Arizona, wants to go to Paris where her mother lives, wants to study art. But this is 1936, in the middle of the Great Depression, and money is tight. Boze thinks he knows what Gabrielle really needs. You can guess what that is.

One day, Alan Squire (Leslie Howard) stumbles into this enclave of desperation and longing. He's hitchhiking across the country, heading to California. He has a notion that he'd like to see the Pacific Ocean, thinks it would be a good place to drown himself. When Alan and Gabrielle meet, the air crackles with electricity. These are two kindred spirits, meant for each other. And in a fairer universe, they would have been. But Alan, a man who has failed at everything, is worn out, weary of the world. Gabrielle is young and in love with life and dreaming of all that she is going to do. She's not yet known the bitterness of disappointment, of failure, of love gone sour, of life's dreams unfulfilled. Life to her is still a Christmas present with the paper on it, and she's giddy with the anticipation of opening it. Alan's already opened it. All he got was coal. But Alan believes in Gabrielle. He praises her paintings. Encourages her to follow her dreams, not Boze's or her father's. She gives him a free meal and a dollar. Arranges a ride for him with a wealthy couple who are passing through. They part reluctantly.

And here the story might have ended, were it not for Duke Mantee (Humphrey Bogart). Mantee is a bank robber and a murderer - a character modelled on John Dillinger - on the lamb with his gang. They're heading for Mexico, when their car breaks down. They steal the car owned by the wealthy couple that Alan is riding in. While the couple's chauffeur attempts to get the stalled car running again, Alan hoofs it back to the gas station, fearing for Gabrielle's safety. When he gets there, Mantee and his gang have already arrived. Alan joins the hostages. Soon the wealthy couple shows up, and they're taken hostage too. Now begins a tense stand-off, a handful of unarmed citizens held by a bunch of armed thugs. But Mantee has a soft spot. He's waiting for a girl. Mantee, the famous killer, is in love, and that love will be his downfall. When the cops arrive, as we know they will, bullets fly. I won't say anymore. Don't wanna give away the ending. Best watch yourself to see who lives, who dies, who's stuck in the petrified forest, and who leaves.

Archie Mayo's The Petrified Forest is one of the most outstanding films ever made. Based on the stage play by Robert E. Sherwood, almost all of the action takes place in or outside of the little dessert gas station. This gives the film a claustrophobic feeling, one that is helped by the immensity of the Arizona dessert that forms the backdrop for all that happens. This was Bogart's breakout role. Of course, he had been in other movies, had made twelve films in the previous eight years, including two with Bette Davis. But his portrayal of the cold-blooded killer, Duke Mantee, is what made Bogart a household name. Bogart had starred in the stage play with Leslie Howard. When Warner Brothers decide to do the film, Howard was asked to reprise his role, but the studio wanted Edward G. Robinson to play Duke Mantee. Howard refused to do the film unless Bogart was given the part of Mantee. WB gave in. The rest, as they say, is movie history.

There's a lot of desperation in The Petrified Forest. A lot of hope and idealism too, and some pretty heroic stuff going on. You'll want to see for yourself. You won't regret that you did.

The Petrified Forest is rated G and is filmed in glorious black and white.