"That son of a bitch took my pants."

The Terminator. What an excellent movie. And believe it or not, I say that without a hint of sarcasm in my voice. Before viewing The Terminator for Art of Film, I had never seen the movie (or any of the sequels). I was familiar with a rough outline of the plot - a cyborg comes from the future to kill some chick who has no idea what's going on. But I had no idea what awaited me....

The first shot of Terminator reminded me instantly of Ed Wood's films. While I realize that the special effects involved in this movie were probably super exciting and believable for 1984 (especially according to this reveiw), by today's standards they were absurd beyond imagination. In the introductory sequence, a ferocious battle of laser ray guns raged between men and machine. My favorite shot from the scene showed a tank-like cyborg rolling over the ground, crushing countless human skulls as it went. Even after the first minute and thirty seconds of Terminator, it was surpassing my expectations.

After this memorable opening scene, the film returns to a more recognizable earth. We meet a garbage truck driver who encounters some bizarre lighting and charismatically utters the first lines of the film, saying "What the hell? Goddamn son of a bitch..." This is just the first example of a meticulously eloquent and caringly crafted script that includes such gems as "Come with me if you want to live," "I came across time for you, Sarah. I love you; I always have," and "You're terminated, fucker." Beautiful.

Just minutes into the film, good old Arnold arrives. After a few flashes of blue light and some gale-force winds, the Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger, duh) appears in the street, naked and curled up in the fetal position. At this point of the viewing experience, I was laughing so hard that it warranted my mother poking her head down the stairs with an "Oooh, is everything alright, Katie?" (anybody who knows my mother will find this hilarious). I was enjoying myself so much that I thought the movie couldn't possibly get better. That delusion only lasted about a scene until the Terminator encounters a group of "ruffians" (i.e. hooligans, punk-ass kids, etc.). Upon demanding their clothing (to gird his naked loins) and being refused, he proceeds to physically rip the heart out of one troubled young man's chest. It was absolutely epic.

The rest of the film followed in a similar fashion. It was extremely difficult to avoid becoming a "plausible" in a movie such as this. Although I am ethically and morally against the "plausibles," I found myself wondering things like "How does he know his way around this city?" and "Where did he get surgical tools, why did he lay them out on a desk in a nasty apartment, why are his heavy artillery guns hidden beneath the mattress, and why did he enter/exit through the window instead of the door of what is clearly 'his' apartment?" Unfortunately, in a movie such as this, those questions simply don't have answers.

Although I'm sure that most of this post seems extremely sarcastic, don't get me wrong - I thoroughly enjoyed watching The Terminator. I expected to loathe the experience, but I now find that it is one I wouldn't mind repeating. Whether I like it or not, I'm actually considering seeing the rest of the Terminator films. Yikes.

"...a deep ocean of secrets..."

"Where to, miss?"

"To the stars."

When Roger Ebert wrote about Titanic on December 19, 1997, he had nothing but praise for the film. He, as well as countless others, couldn't say enough for the 194 minute masterpiece depicting one of the greatest and most tragic stories in history. In Ebert's review, he almost immediately accepts the fact that, considering the story of the Titanic and the sad romance surrounding it, some things were inevitably a little predictable. "We know before the movie begins that certain things must happen," he says. Everybody knows what happened to the Titanic. It was a magnificent ship, supposedly unsinkable. However, it sank. Going into the movie, the audience is prepared for this great tragedy. Some people would look upon this predictability as something undesirable, something that would make the film less exciting to experience. Personally (and Ebert agrees), that is not the case. It may even be helpful that so many people know the background of the Titanic. Because of that, it is easier to focus on the characters and the beauties of the film rather than being bogged down with following the voyage and the plotline.

Ebert goes on to talk about Cameron's skill in showing off the entire ship. Enormous models were used with smaller models as well as special effects to achieve the Titanic that viewers know and love. He applauds the manner in which these different techniques compliment each other and miraculously avoid drawing attention away from what really matters. After commending nearly every aspect of Cameron's dramatic film, Ebert ends his review with a poetic and almost haunting thought.

The image from the Titanic that has haunted me, ever since I first read the
story of teh great ship, involves the moments right after it sank. The night sea
was quiet enough so that cries for help carried easily across the water to the
lifeboats, which drew prudently away. Still dressed up in the latest fashions,
hundreds froze and drowned. What an extraordinary position to find yourself in
after spending all of that money for a ticket on an unsinkable ship.