M
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MPAA Rating is the rating given by the Motion Picture Association of America. Please note this is a voluntary rating, so some films (many times older films or obscure foreign films) are not rated.
G - General Audiences
PG - Parental Guidance Suggested
PG13 - Parental Guidance Suggested for those under 13 years of age
R - Restricted (those under 18 not admitted without parent or guardian)
NC-17 (X) - No one under 18 admitted.
USCCB Rating is the rating given by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. Please note that some films are not rated simply because the Bishop’s Conference has not reviewed them.
A-I: General Patronage
A-II: Adults and Adolescents
A-III: Adults
L: Limited Adult Audience, problematic content
O: Morally Offensive
Fr. John’s Ratings
★★★★★ - Masterpiece. This film has to show aspects of cinematic excellence that are above and beyond the ordinary and even beyond the “excellent” classification. Because a true masterpiece can be determined only through its ability to endure through the passage of time, no film is even considered for this rating until at least ten years have passed from the date of its initial release.
★★★★ - Excellent
★★★ - Very Good
★★ - Fair
★ - Poor
Man with a Movie Camera (1929) ★★★★★
Length: 68 minutes. MPAA Rating: Not rated. USCCB Rating: Not rated. Director: Dziga Vertov. Silent. Though not morally offensive, some people might be surprised by documentary scenes of brief nudity, a birth, and the body of a deceased young man being carried in a funeral procession. Not for younger children.
Made in the Soviet Union in 1929, Vertov’s masterpiece captures daily life among typical Russians of the early 20th Century. If we see firefighters racing to a fire, they are real firefighters. If we see a wedding, it is a real wedding. If we see a couple filing for divorce, it is a real divorce. The birth we see is a real birth. The funeral procession we see is a real funeral procession. In our age of social media, this may not seem too impressive, but back in 1929 such cinematic insights into everyday life were quite extraordinary.
This documentary has no story, no plot, and no actors. It is, instead, a time capsule – and an astonishing one at that. Vertov’s goal is to de-mystify the process of moviemaking, divorce film from drama and literature, and reveal the inner workings of cinema in order to create a purely cinematic language. He does this by including shots of himself with his camera and, in one memorable sequence, shots of an editor splicing together the very movie we are watching.
Way ahead of its time, Man with a Movie Camera utilizes such techniques as multiple exposures, split screens, dutch angles, slow motion, fast motion, and rapid-fire montage editing – all pretty amazing for a one-hundred-year-old film. Sprinkled amidst scenes of everyday life are messages from the Soviet era that are more generalized and not very political -- for example, it is better to play a game of checkers than to get drunk, exercise is good for health, and machines increase productivity. But at the center of this venture are ordinary people like you and me and our progression through the journey of life. My favorite version of this film can be found on DVD from Image Entertainment and features the unique and somewhat bizarre music soundtrack of Alloy Orchestra, which was composed by carefully following the detailed (and eccentric) notes of Vertov himself. From its slightly-surreal opening sequence to its rapid-fire conclusion, Man with a Movie Camera is experimental moviemaking at its best.
Metropolis (1927) ★★★★★
Length: 148 minutes. MPAA Rating: Not rated. USCCB Rating: Not rated. Director: Fritz Lang. Silent, with music (original score by Gottfried Huppertz).
Not for very young children, but okay for adolescents and older.
Imbued with operatic acting and some impressive visual effects, Metropolis is a grand sci-fi pageant that underscores the struggle between the rich and the poor, the elites and the servants, the haves and the have nots. Whether it’s the workers who trudge out from the factory precisely at half the speed of workers just arriving, the men straining to complete another grueling ten-hour shift by mindlessly operating meaningless controls, or a machine so large it appears to devour those who serve it, virtually every shot is layered with social commentary.
The favored son of the leader of Metropolis, Freder is fully satisfied with his privileged existence until he meets the angelic Maria, a latter-day prophetess from the world below. Felt moved to truly understand the other side, Freder travels below and trades places with one of the workers. What follows is a drama that becomes increasingly exciting, even frantic, featuring a rebellion, deception, a mad scientist, a golden robot, and some of the most spectacular visual effects of the silent era (Germany was the world leader in cinematic effects at that time).
In case we don’t get the point, Lang includes some interesting spiritual/religious references. The large devouring machine is called “Moloch,” a reference to the horrifying temple of child sacrifice found in the Old Testament. When speaking to the workers, Maria stands in front of an “altar” with several crosses perched overhead. The story of the Tower of Babel is told through dramatic imagery. And when Freder is half-delirious while tossing and turning in bed, he sees sculptures of the Seven Deadly Sins come to life, while, at the same time, the Maria-impersonating golden robot lustfully dances as the whore of Babylon for an audience of wealthy young men all too eager to torch the night with mayhem.
This is an intense, operatic, and melodramatic epic which eschews moderation in favor of spectacle. It sweeps you into its strange, retro world of 1920s sci-fi and doesn’t let you go. Though now nearly one hundred years old, Metropolis still has a freshness and vibrancy that still grabs the viewer. No wonder that such films such as Star Wars, Blade Runner, and countless others have been inspired by its visuals and even appropriated some of its characters and effects. The Vatican has included it on its list of the greatest films ever made, under the category “art”. It is true that the message of the film is a simple one, but there is nothing really simplistic about it. It works for me and stands the test of time.
Find the complete version on the Blu-ray disc from Kino, which includes 25 minutes of restored footage and the sweeping original music soundtrack by Gottfried Huppertz. Yes, it’s a silent film, but there is nothing silent about the visuals. Lang’s skilled direction and the great melodramatic acting make petty things like synchronized dialogue unnecessary. And Huppertz’s mesmerizing and unrelenting music fills in all the gaps. It’s a great film and well worth watching.