Luckily, my experience in graduate school is a different story. My professors have been more concerned with historical relevancy and less about turning a film lecture into a civics lesson. One professor who does the field a favor by putting together a fair assessment is Drew Casper, the Alma and Alfred Hitchcock Chair of American Film at USC, with his latest book, Hollywood Film 1963-1976: Years of Revolution and Reaction. Casper takes on a time period of filmmaking very dear to him that he feels has been unfairly dominated by leftist praise that purposely ignores certain films. Exposing his frustrations, Casper says that “predictably, the [scholarly] discussions are rather obsessive, focusing on the same films time and again that fit the critically beloved template” (xvi). This is exactly what I went through as an undergraduate. Extra studying on my part had to be done to get a well-rounded view of film history.

This common template favors liberals, constantly overhyping films like The Graduate, Mash, and Five Easy Pieces with praise that is more suited for something like The Godfather. Casper’s problem is that in the usual  film history text, a film like the leftist McCabe and Mrs. Miller will take up an entire chapter while the conservative and more iconic True Grit (1969 version) goes overlooked. The pious view of some films like Dr. Strangelove will force the ignorance of an equally important film (even those with similar political leanings). This fidelity to the most radical films will create a predictable view of others, “sometimes a conservative film is noted, only to be vilified for its politics, such aspersion clouding any thoughts about its aesthetic merits” (xvii). This is the case with Dirty Harry, where the left loves to hold this film up as fascist (Casper describes the “self-righteous” vitriol spewed by Pualine Kael about this film).

The first few chapters of the text are a well-balanced account of the 60s and 70s in America both culturally and politically. Courageously, Casper notes it’s so difficult to hear about centrist and conservative movies in many film courses because anti-American Marxists began to dominate the humanities fields in higher education. Continuing his discussion of the time, Casper says that “One nation, indivisible, under God, was turning into a secular series of ever-growing fiefdoms” (27), which accurately paints a picture for this tumultuous time period in American history (he also provides an honest depiction of the Kennedys which was a breath of fresh air). The lengthy breakdown of the changes occurring in America and Hollywood is essential in understanding this part of American film history (especially if you are like me and were born after the fact).

A large chunk of the book is dedicated to detailing how genres were used during this time period. Genres began to transition into what felt like a revolution (131), working primarily as a political force. The culture war blew up and all sides got in the fight. This period saw films working as renewal, hybridization as well as demythologizing of traditional genres (adventure, Western, family melodrama, comedy, etc). Casper accurately notes that “using genre as a soapbox, characters’ psychology became less significant than the ideas they incited” (134). The collective liberalism in the country was growing which led to far less superhero films (the genre is generally conservative) and many more Vietnam-Westerns. In addition, adventure films became popular but are widely overlooked by scholars. Films like Papillon, The Great Escape, The Dirty Dozen and Deliverance are given ample appreciation compared to past work on this timeframe.

The 60s and 70s saw a large downswing in war films which led to an upswing in Westerns, allowing filmmakers to comment on the war through metaphor. These films depicted a savage attitude towards Native Americans to address the violence in Vietnam (Little Big Man, Soldier Blue, Ulzana’s Raid). Others became a platform for radical domestic politics such as Robert Altman’s widely praised McCabe and Mrs. Miller (which is a wonderful genre play that unfortunately becomes and anti-capitalist wet dream). While these films are certainly worth noting, Casper does the genre justice by also mentioning other important films the liberals like to ignore such as True Grit, Jeremiah Johnson, El Dorado, and overlooked (liberal) Sam Peckinpah films; The Ballad of Cable Hogue and Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. In addition, we see the popular Leone films examined as Marxist where the filmmaker “planned to expose the ‘real’ American West as one rough-and-tough environment diseased by the obsession with money” (338). It’s easy to see why these films consistently make the cut in film academia and it’s not just because of the amazing Ennio Morricone scores.

Another great genre, the vigilante film, is put into a helpful context in this book. As a film student, I’ve seen Serpico praised and Death Wish denounced for solely political reasons (which isn’t helpful to a student). Each film represents strong feelings from opposing sides that are worth discussing in terms of grasping the cultural climate. Casper says that “respective political ideologies could place a vigilante, someone who took or countenanced the taking of the law into his/her own hands to attain justice, in either camp – dutiful lawman (if you’re conservative) or fascist criminal (if you’re liberal)”  (309). This honest and balanced attitude towards the material presented is obviously why Casper has the respect and massive following that he does. During a time when social and political tensions were high, all sides need to be seen in order to get a complete view of Hollywood in the 60s and 70s.

Such honesty about American film during a tumultuous time period is not common in the field which makes Hollywood Film 1963-1976: Years of Revolution and Reaction so good. The book is not meant to be a turning of the tables on liberal film historians; it is meant to be a balanced account of history when so many texts overanalyze the same select movies. I’ve read many books where the leftist films are referred to as “heroic” and “courageous” while the conservative films are called “reactionary” and “fascist.” What Casper does, that works so well for audiences of any political persuasion, is simply refer to films as “liberal,” “centrist,” or “conservative.” Understanding that taste is subjective, Casper allows the audience to decide which films they prefer.  I highly recommend this book to any film student or person interested in Hollywood films of the 60s and 70s. This text will definitely become a go-to reference as I continue my studies.

Contrast that to the soul-crushing dismay when you realize that what you hoped would be a great couple of hours is instead going to be a dreary death-march of clichés, lazy writing and bad music broken only occasionally when you glance longingly at your watch and wish you could have your $11.50 and two hours back. 

—–

You know a great opening when you see it; if fact, you feel it.  My definition of “opening” is rather loose.  An opening can go up to, or past the credits, or it may just be the credit sequence itself.  Some openings are rather long, 10-15 minutes.  Some are just a couple of minutes.  There is no one formula for a great opening – the ten listed here as my personal favorites are as different from each other as Democratic Party governance is from competent leadership.  But there are some common threads.  A great opening tells you something about the story you will see.  It might be in words of formal narration, or a sequence that takes you into the story, or in some cases it’s just a few images.  There may be prominent music, or little or none.  But when the opening is over, you are ready – you understand enough to begin the journey.  And, more importantly, you are eager to go. 

It’s easy – and serves an important purpose – to point out where Hollywood fails.  But it’s a special pleasure to point out where it got it just perfect.  Here are my Top 10 favorite movie openings: 

1. The Guns of Navarone (1961) 

This is one of the great “men on a mission” WWII movies of the Sixties, a rousing story of a band of commandos led by Gregory Peck trying to destroy the titular cannons on a German-occupied Greek island.  This 5 ½ minute opening sequence is an example of narration and music in action.  Over beautiful shots of Greek ruins intercut with newsreel footage, James Robertson Justice provides a detailed prologue setting up the story (though, sadly, the narration track is not on YouTube) while Dimitri Tiomkin’s Oscar nominates score plays quietly. 

—–

It’s one of the screen’s great orchestral themes, and as the narration ends and the opening credits begin it sweeps up into its full glory – rousing, majestic and stirring.  You watch the Cyrillic-style star credits flash by – Greg Peck, David Niven, Anthony Quinn – as that score plays and you know you’re about to watch one of Hollywood’s adventures.  

2. Alien (1979) 

Ridley Scott’s extraterrestrial terrorfest is one of only two movies that every really, truly scared me.  In contrast to the crowded, familiar outer space of Star Wars (see below), Scott’s universe is silent and cold, at once claustrophobic and massive. 

—–

With the terrible emptiness of space as the background, the opening credits leisurely form the title “Alien” as Jerry Goldsmith’s superbly creepy and jarring score sets you on edge.  Audiences had never seen or heard anything like it, and it set exactly the right tone of dread and disorientation that would permeate one of the greatest movies ever made.  

3. The Wild Bunch (1969) 

A band of cavalry troopers led by the heroic William Holden slowly ride into a dusty western town – they’re clearly the good guys, right?  Director Sam Peckinpah takes it nice and slow while dropping hints – a bunch of kids torment some scorpions, and when the credits come on screen Peckinpah photo-reverses Holden’s image, like Holden is the opposite of what he appears to be. 

Holden escorts an elderly lady across the street.  Ernest Borgnine even offers to carry her boxes – how nice of him!  Then they enter the bank and draw guns as Holden throws a civilian to the floor and orders his men, “If they move – kill ‘em!”  And then they shoot their way out of town in a bloody gun battle that leaves criminals, bounty hunters and a score of innocent civilians strewn across the streets. 

—–

Can you say “Anti-heroes?”  Well, you don’t have to – after that amazing opening, you knew that you were watching something entirely new.  And you knew that it wasn’t going to have a happy ending. Just an awesome one. 

4. Se7en (1995)

Here, director David Fincher wants to take us into the mind of a serial killer, but not in the same way a thousand hack directors had.  Se7en’s opening credits, set to Trent Reznor’s “Closer,” are displayed over a series of icky, freaky images – many of which, in retrospect, turn out to relate to the story to come (Look for the shot of the book discussing pregnancy!).  You know you’re on you’re way to crazyland, and you know you have no idea what’s going to happen next. 

—–

The credits are not a particularly delightful experience, and neither is the film.  But, undeniably, there is nothing else like it, and Fincher created an opening that was worthy of it. 

5. Goldfinger (1964)

There had to be a James Bond film on this list, and the most James Bond film of all James Bond film is Goldfinger.  The third of the series (you can read much more about it in Lawrence Meyer’s Big Hollywood series), it set in concrete many of the Bond traditions that would follow through five decades of  Bonds up through today. 

A Bond opening has three parts.  The first is the MGM lion roaring and the dancing dot that becomes the barrel of a gun aimed right at 007, who pivots at the last second and fires, followed by the animated sheet of blood pouring down the screen as the dot finds a corner and expands into the cold open action sequence. 

The opening sequence rarely has anything to do with the plot (though the recent ones are going in a different direction).  Here, Bond infiltrates an enemy facility disguised with a duck on his head.  Yeah, unfortunately there’s a bit of silliness in some of these, but it fades into a nice fight in a hotel room (where the amoral Bond uses a femme fatale’s head as a shield) and gives us one of the earliest hero quips: “Shocking, absolutely shocking,” he remarks about the baddie he just electrocuted. 

—–

Now, the third part of a Bond opening is the main titles, and these – with the legendary Shirley Bassey singing the best of the Bond themes – are just great.  Scenes of the film play out on the golden skin of a naked model as the credits play.  That pretty much sums up our James Bond.  Pretty girl, beware of this heart of gold! 

6. Star Wars (1977) 

In nerdspeak, it’s Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope.  But since I saw it in the theater, and I don’t put up with geek nonsense, this was, is and ever shall be known only as Star Wars.  And seeing it in the theater – as well as being around for the incredibly revolutionary effect Star Wars had on the movies – makes this legendary opening all the more memorable.  

We sat in the theater, the lights go down, the 20^th Century Fox intro played followed by the sky blue titles on a black field reading “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”  Then BLAM!  John Williams’s unforgettable score hits you.  The iconic Star Wars graphic appears on the screen followed by the written explanation of the nonsensical plot.  Then the camera falls, a musical freefall supported by the score, and BLAM!   We are in a space battle with starships the likes we had never seen before that day in 1977.  

Maybe you had to be there…. 

7. The Dirty Dozen (1967)

Another terrific Sixties WWII “men on a mission” movie, but it could not be more different from Guns of Navarone in story, tone or opening.  It opens cold as a hearse enters a military prison.  The inmates are rioting as a condemned prisoner is being led to his doom.  On the gallows stands Lee Marvin as Major Reisman, who watches the proceedings with grim detachment, pausing only to glance at the priest’s Bible with a raised eyebrow.  The sentence completed, he departs.  A title card announces we are in London in 1944.  Reisman then gets his mission from our old pal, General Ernest Borgnine, in a great scene, snappy scene.  The jousting among the characters is marvelous – we learn just what kind of man Reisman is not just from dialogue describing him but from his actions.  He then returns to the prison to meet his team of convicts.  Only then, about 10 minutes in, do the credits play as the sergeant introduces each one with character name, crime and sentence. 

In one economical, fluid opening, we meet and understand the hero, learn about his challenge and get thoroughly introduced to each of the Dozen.  Now that’s how a movie is made! 

8. Gone With the Wind (1939)

Just a title card, credits and the lush, amazing score of composer Max Steiner provide a worthy opening to what many consider the greatest American film ever made.  GWTW was a huge event when released, and in those days they felt they had to make a film worthy of the hype.  It was also better than three hours long.  Sure, critics today have problems with it – they probably feel it lacks alienated hipster characters whining about their feelings, and they astonishingly expect a 70+ year old movie to share the same lockstep vision of political correctness that characterizes the Hollywood of today (conveniently forgetting the fact that GWTW was revolutionary in the dignity it bestowed on many black characters, a dignity you will not find in the average gangster rap video or Martin Lawrence “funny black guy in a fat suit” sequel.) 

—–

The opening is amazing.  Steiner’s music begins with a flourish that evokes the Old South with a hint of “Dixie” then turns into the sweeping, grand “Tara’s Theme” as a title card sets the stage and then the credits roll over an idealized backdrop of a life soon to be swept away.  As a son of the Union whose family’s home town of Chambersburg was burned by Confederates (and whose great-great grandfather preceded me as a U.S. Army cavalryman by 125 years), I have no illusions about where the pretty life the characters live early in the movie came from, but the opening still perfectly captures the sense of these characters whose way of life would be “gone with the wind” of history during the course of this magnificent film. 

9. Magnum Force (1973)

Yeah, this one tells you all you need to know about the next two and a half hours of awesome, prime Eastwood mayhem.  

—–

A disembodied hand raises up and holds a Smith & Wesson .44 magnum revolver over a red background for a couple minutes as the credits run and Lalo Schifrin’s awesome, swingin’ n’ jazzy theme plays.  That’s it.  That’s all. 

Then the thumb pulls back the hammer, the looming barrel swings toward the audience, and Clint intones his famous “Do you feel lucky?” line from the original Dirty Harry.  Wait a beat.  BLAM! 

Rad.  Well, a man’s got to know his limitations.  And if you don’t dig that opening, it’s your manhood that’s limited. 

10. The Road Warrior (1981) 

Wind.  “My life fades.  My vision dims.  All that remains…. are memories.  I remember a time of chaos.  Ruined dreams, this wasted land.  But most of all, I remember the Road Warrior”  

With these words, uttered by the now elderly Feral Kid, one of the best action films ever made begins.  You don’t need to have seen the original Mad Max – the narration and footage bring you up to speed on the scenario, and on Max, and on why he went out to the desert…. 

But the narration isn’tall.  No, it’s just the beginning, because as the narration ends and director George Miller’s camera swoops down onto the endless road, the white lines shooting past, into darkness as a roar overtakes you.  And the roar gets louder and louder, and then the camera pulls back out of a tunnel, but it’s not a tunnel at all – it’s the yawning mouth of the supercharger on Max’s car, “the last of the V8 Interceptors.”  And we are right in the midst of Max’s latest asphalt battle for his life. 

Okay Hollywood, that’s how it’s done.

Here they go, in no particular order:

10. Die Hard (1988): You’ve seen Die Hard probably a hundred times.  See it again, preferably uncut and not sanitized for TV.  Bruce Willis is a cop trapped alone while the incredible Alan Rickman and his band of fashion plate terrorists grab Nakatomi Plaza during the annual Christmas party.  The plot is simple, but the execution is simply awesome.  This movie is the archetype, the template  for a hundred subsequent movies that were pitched as “Die Hard in a (fill in the blank).”  For more fun, try my Die Hard-themed drinking game – take a pull on a Dos Equis every time something happens that creates or reaffirms a classic action film cliché.  Wisenheimer renegade cop who play by his own rules – gulp!  Lots of MP-5s and other (then) hi-tech armaments that fire a ton of rounds but rarely hit anything – gulp!  Villain who rises from the dead to be killed one last time – gulp!  You may want a designate a driver – cue Argyle, the streetwise sidekick in the limo (gulp)!  

Ignore the silly sequels, which follow the familiar genre flick sequel quality death spriral.  Die Hard is the real deal.  And as a bonus, it features the greatest holiday greeting in movie history:  “Now I have a machine gun.  Ho, ho, ho.”

–

9. Lethal Weapon (1986): This is another  classic 80’s cop flick, and it made Mel Gibson a superstar.  Basically, he and Danny Glover go on a Christmas-time rampage across Los Angeles against a vicious drug gang.  It is exciting, violent, profane fun.  You have to try to ignore the politics and off-screen antics of the participants – Danny Glover is one of Chavez’s biggest Hollywood suck-ups and Mel, well, he’s completely lost it.  You also need to ignore the series’ politics – the villains are, of course, American soldiers, and one of the crummy sequels is a passionate plea for gun control shouted over the volleys of thunderous gunfire.

But if you get through all that baggage, Lethal Weaponis a solid, exciting, surprisingly tough action flick.  And, of course, it has Gary Busey as an insane, unstable villain.  My guess is that director Richard Donner just said to him, “Gary, I want you to be yourself.”

–

8. Gremlins (1984): Nothing says Christmas like wild green monsters rampaging through a small town.  This black comedy/horror flick is not quite for kids, as a number of human beings end up deceased and the gremlins are dispatched in rather gruesome ways.  Plus, it features the lovely Phoebe Cates in a supporting role as a young woman with the absolutely worst family Christmas story all time.

–

7. While You Were Sleeping (1995): Sandra Bullock, who has a huge hit in The Blind Side, was in top ingénue form for this rom-com involving amnesia and various misunderstandings all taking place during the holiday season.  Simple, light and harmless, Sleeping won’t change your life, but it does its job.  And getting it on Netflix beats spending $100 on tickets and snacks to take the family to see a politically correct lefty cartoon like Avatar.

–

6. 1941 (1979): Let’s put this out there – 1941 is Steven Spielberg’s best movie that’s not either Schindler’s List or Raiders of the Lost Ark.  Tagged as over-long, over-priced and over-done, those attributes are exactly why this huge, sprawling comedy about Los Angeles in the weeks after Pearl Harbor is simply fabulous.  Every penny is up there on the screen.  Every cameo is gold.  John Belushi, as a lunatic fighter pilot, is completely out of control (He turns off radios with his .45).   And the John Williams score is perfect – rousing, exciting, and absolutely right for a comic story about a nation on the verge of what Robert Stack (as General “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell) says, is “going to be a long war.”

–

5. L.A. Confidential (1997): This incredible modern film noir starts off with a Christmas party at a police station that goes terribly wrong.  It takes a couple of viewings to follow and appreciate the convoluted plot (which was adapted from the sensational and even more convoluted novel by James Ellroy).  That’s a good thing.  Just when you wonder if Hollywood can make a movie that’s for adults, that makes you think, that doesn’t assume you’re a drooling borderline moron, along comes a movie like this to restore your faith.  Of course, that was a dozen years ago.  Until they do it again, though, at least we have L.A. Confidential.

–

4. Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982): Let’s throw another meaty bone into the tiger cage – Fast Times is the best teen sex comedy of all time.  Period.  In fact, it is much more that.  It is a hilarious, moving, grim, often unsentimental view of high school life in California in the early 80’s that resonates especially well with me because I was a kid in a California high school when it came out.  How does it relate to Christmas?  The film spans a year in the life of the characters and includes several scenes during the holiday season as they work their crummy jobs dealing with hordes of Christmas shoppers and angry customers (including a nasty Santa).  Like everything about the film, they got life during Christmas vacation for middle class kids dead right.  Oh, and there’s also Phoebe Cates….

–

3. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005): Yet another film about chaos at Christmas time in Los Angeles, and it was supposed also the comeback for writer Shane Black, who wrote Lethal Weapon then a lot of other loud, violent movies.  Robert Downey, Jr., reaffirms his appeal as a crook hiding out in Hollywood who experiences with all manner of film noir challenges.  A memorable scene has Michelle Monaghan as a sexy elf.  Not a great film, but an interesting one that never got the credit it was due.

–

2. Sleepless In Seattle (1993): One of the archetypal “chick flicks,” Sleepless starts with widower Tom Hanks’ sorrowful Christmas Eve radio elegy to his wife.  Through a series of absolutely improbable events, the then-young Hanks and a still frisky Meg Ryan finally meet and, we assume, live happily ever after.  Sure, you gotta deal with Rosie O’Donnell, and Rob Reiner might be a lefty in real life but he’s pretty amusing here as Tom’s Dirty Dozen-loving pal.  Overall, you could do a lot worse when your wife states unequivocally, “We are not watching Die Hard again!”

–

1. Battleground (1949): With so many of our troops spending another Christmas overseas, this powerful story of the legendary 101st Airborne’s courageous stand against the Nazis at Bastogne during the Battle of the Bulge at Christmastime 1944 is more appropriate than ever.  The chaplain’s speech in the snow, to American soldiers of all races, about why they are there won’t pass muster with the Howard Zinns of the world.  (Yeah, I know Zinn was in WWII.  So?  All your DD214 proves is that you served, not that you aren’t a half-wit).  To me, the chaplain’s service is one of the most powerful scenes Hollywood has ever put on film.  But I’m biased.  Forty-six years after Bastogne, a few weeks from the start of a different war, I was listening to a chaplain saying similar things on a different battlefield.  These truths – that we must fight against the tyrants, thugs and ideologies that crush the individual in the name of their twisted doctrines – were true in 1944, true in 1990, and are still true today.

That’s the list.  If I missed some, or if I’m off-base, I know I’ll hear about it.  And to those who really, really hate this list, let me quote the 101^st’s commander at Bastogne, Brigadier General McAuliffe, when the Nazis demanded he surrender the Division:  “Nuts!”

You’ve probably experienced the Basterds publicity blitz.  Brad Pitt looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Folks I know who have been around him say he really is a pleasant and laid-back guy, and these are hardly the characteristics of a beady-eyed killer.  Creepy Eli Roth, taking some time off from directing his degenerate torture movies, is just a leering clown – he looks like he should be squatting in the back of his Ford panel van offering Tootsie Rolls to passing tweens.  And B.J. Novak?  The guy is a hilarious writer and is really funny in The Office , but I’m not buying this cat as the scourge of the Third Reich.

In contrast, Lee Marvin’s tough guy legacy lives on despite the fact that his body rests with thousands of other heroes in Arlington National Cemetery. He earned that right when he was wounded fighting the Imperial Japanese Army in the Pacific as a Marine private. His Purple Heart is 100% USDA certified proof positive of his prime badassary. Who is the Hollywood tough guy of today who can dare step up to the Lee Marvin plate and take a swing?

Nobody.

Marvin got discharged from the Corps, came home and started doing crummy odd jobs to support himself – his willingness to work instead of freeloading off of others is itself an anachronism in today’s entitlement culture. He found acting and appeared in various supporting roles until he starred in a hit television series (M Squad) and moved on to bigger roles. He even won an Oscar for Cat Ballou.  Serving his country, working hard, honing his craft and winning the recognition of his peers – Lee Marvin’s career had a lot in common with that of fellow all-American badass Ernest Borgnine.   

How tough was the on-screen Marvin? He brawled with the Duke in Donovan’s Reef and stalked Chuck Bronson as a Mountie (!) in Death Hunt. His classic performance as the grizzled First Infantry Division squad leader in The Big Red One has inspired legions of American sergeants.

–

Check him out in 1967’s Point Blank. As Walker, a single-minded human tsunami of violence, he smashes through the psychedelic Sixties’ Summer of Love with his .357 and mantra of “I want my money!” This flick works for me on several levels. As a soldier, I respect his character’s fearsome firepower choices; as an attorney, I find his character’s single-minded focus on getting paid inspiring.

Remade in 1999 as the tepid Payback, Point Blank was harder-core than any of the watered-down, focus-tested, suit-neutered, glorified filmstrips that limp out of the studios today and pretend to be edgy.  

For sheer cinematic awesomeness, his performance in The Dirty Dozen as Major Reisman, leader of the cutthroat band of condemned convicts on a mission to solve the Nazi overpopulation crisis, is never going to be matched. It’s actually unfair to even use it as a standard against which to measure subsequent action films. In the teachable moment regarding action movies that accompanies the release of The Inglorious Basterds, The Dirty Dozen would be Sgt. Crowley’s Full Moon beer while Little Quentin’s movie would be the President’s Bud Light.

Marvin was totally fearless, including when he should have been afraid. He did a terrifying musical, Paint Your Wagon, and even had something of a hit song – Wanderin’ Star. Sadly, that little ditty sounds like a duet between Tom Waits and a drunken leaf blower, but it did lead to Marvin being paid homage to by The Simpsons – another great honor he shares with Ernest Borgnine. 

In his personal life, his shacking up with his girlfriend led to a lawsuit that led to the creation of the legal concept of “palimony,” empowering a new generation of golddiggers. And politically, according to the always accurate Wikipedia, he was a liberal Democrat – hey, nobody’s perfect. But if you get shot fighting for this country, dude, for all I care you can vote for a transsexual Marxist cocker spaniel that buys into global warming.

Hollywood needs to look harder for its tough guys because the new ones just can’t cut it. All the fake blood and stylized mayhem in the world are no substitute for the hard edge of real life experience that WWII vets like Lee Marvin and Jimmy Stewart – I should say, Brigadier General James Stewart – brought to their roles.  Today, the critics’ favorite director sends boy toys, torture pornographers and comedians to battle the SS. Yawn.

If Tarantino really wanted to kill Nazis, he could just bore them to death with his endless, pseudo-academic dissertations on so-bad-they-are-just-plain-bad B-movies. Too bad Eisenhower didn’t have a videotape of QT sounding off at Cannes about his personal artistic vision to use to soften up Omaha Beach. But fortunately for us, he had men like Lee Marvin.

Look at his life. Borgnine was born to Italian immigrant parents in 1917, spent 10 years in the Navy, including all of World War II, then bummed around as a second string character actor for another decade before snagging an Oscar in his first major role. The closest thing to life experience one of today’s stars has is a three week stint at $5,000-a-day rehab resort getting seaweed facials and talking about how his daddy never told him he loved him during group therapy while secretly gobbling the vicodins he smuggled in inside the liner of his Louis Vuitton cosmetics case.

You want retro cool? Forget posers like George Clooney and his pathetic attempts to relive the Old School dream with his Ocean movies, skinny ties and succession of cocktail waitress girlfriends. Ernest Borgnine is a 33rd Scottish Rite Mason, was in From Here to Eternity with Frank Sinatra, and was married to Ethel Merman. He married Ethel Merman! Try and top that for retro cool, George. Borgnine not only founded the Old School but is a Professor Emeritus.

What are his politics? Who knows? While his most recent political contribution was to George W. Bush in 2004, Borgnine comes from a time when actors concentrated on acting. He is very active in supporting Navy veterans, but you won’t hear him spouting off about his specific views. He’s a generic patriot – there’s probably a yellow ribbon on the back of his Caddy (you just know he drives a Cadillac) and anyone he sees messing with the flag can probably expect to feel one of those meaty Borgnine paws hard across his pie hole.

But can he act? Hell yes. There is that aforementioned Academy Award for 1955’s Marty. Marty is the heartbreaking story of a homely 30-ish meat cutter and his delicate romance with a plain-Jane schoolteacher. Borgnine is fearless as Marty, lashing out at his own looks and his inability to connect with women in a way no modern star ever could or would. It is a brave performance in a way you simply do not see today, and a performance that is a credit to both Borgnine’s talent and lack of ego.

Marty is about real people and real love, but if it were remade today – and lacking either vampires or a graphic novel pedigree it never would be – you can just imagine the Hollywood weasels’ notes:

Instead of this lonely butcher thing, which is a downer, how about making Marty a swinging TV reporter looking for The One?…And can we rename him Gavin? And let’s make the girl a model – is Kate Hudson busy? We’ll need a non-threatening gay friend for her. And let’s get Gerard Butler as Marty, I mean Gavin. Awesome. I think these changes are really going to test well.

Borgnine’s ten minute supporting role as the general who gives Lee Marvin his suicide mission at the beginning of The Dirty Dozen is like a master’s class in acting. In just a few minutes, he shifts from deadly serious to comic and back while holding his own against arguably the toughest guy ever on screen. Watch his face and his expressions and reactions, then compare his technique to that of today’s actors, whose “performances” seem to consist largely of them standing there staring vacuously and radiating their unnatural beauty. No contest.

–

Ernest Borgnine has been in classic Westerns like The Wild Bunch and Bad Day at Black Rock, got capsized in the original Poseidon Adventure and even showed up on SpongeBob SquarePants. Sometimes he was a maybe bit too versatile – this Italian-American portrayed “Ragnar” in The Vikings. Still, he epitomizes the concept of the working actor, with roles ranging from big budget films to parts in what only one grading on a generous curve would label as B movies. He’s had several TV series and a ton of guest shots, including a part in the finale of ER and a memorable appearance in a classic episode of The Simpsons. And if you check out his IMDB site, you’ll find over 200 entries and see that he has three more movies coming out. The dude is 92!

You can have the soulless, polished Berluti loafers that are the stars of today – I’ll take the scuffed character of the old bowling shoes reeking of spilled Budweiser and the feet of a hundred guys with names like Sal and Bob that is Ernest Borgnine.

–

Hollywood movies often focus on the commanders, the captains and colonels, but they have also managed to highlight some great sergeants as well.  When you are picking out DVDs for next weekend, remember that May 16th is Armed Forces Day and consider a few selections that show the sergeant in all his gruff and grumbling glory. 

If you have never experienced the joy of going through basic training and do not plan to, your first stop should be Full Metal Jacket, with R. Lee Ermey’s legendary portrayal of a Marine drill instructor who must have missed out on the block of instruction on sensitivity.  I saw this in the theater about a week before I reported to Basic.  That was a poor idea.

The Marines I know seem to prefer Jack Webb in the more realistic The DI, but I am partial to Warren Oates as the “Big Toe” of a platoon of Army foul-ups in Stripes.  This is one great performance – as Sergeant First Class Hulka, Oates is both hilarious and moving.  You can see how this veteran NCO (his character wears the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, meaning he had seen action) truly cares about teaching his men to survive, and you kind of sympathize with him when Bill Murray’s smart-assery pushes him into slugging our hero in the gut.  Hulka’s contemptuous rejoinder to “Psycho” – “Lighten up, Francis” – is classic, as is his inventory of baffled expressions while watching the antics of his recruits.  I remember getting some of those looks myself from Drill Sergeant Whittlesey. 

And do not forget Louis Gossett, Jr. as another Devil Dog making Naval officer candidates earn the right to receive his salute in An Officer and a Gentleman. My only objection to this movie is that it made Squid School look a lot more fun than Fort Benning’s Army Officer Candidate School, but then I didn’t look like Richard Gere.

The tough sergeant turning a band of screw-ups into a well-oiled fighting machine is classic Hollywood.  The archetype is Marine Sergeant Stryker in The Sands of Iwo Jima, in which John Wayne supposedly utters the quintessential NCO aphorism “Life is tough.  It’s tougher if you’re stupid.”  But even if the Duke actually never says those words in the film, he should have, and generations of NCOs have shared that particular insight with their soldiers. 

Right up there is Clint Eastwood as another jarhead in Heartbreak Ridge.  It’s a good action flick, but what was particularly interesting is how he developed his nerdy lieutenant into a tough, confident leader who ends up saving the platoon.  But not all sergeants get to work with top notch officers.  In the miniseries Band of Brothers, Donnie Wahlberg does a great job as Easy Company’s First Sergeant Carwood Lipton, who was faced with protecting his men from a cowardly commander.  He does, but suffers a terrible fate – he receives a battlefield commission and becomes a mere lieutenant.  As Colonial Marine Gunnery Sergeant Apone in the fantastic Aliens, Al Matthews not only contends with an incompetent platoon leader, but flesh eating space bugs and Bill Paxton’s loudmouth Private Hudson.  “Game over, man!  Game over!”

The definition of an NCO is someone who makes things happen – whether or not strictly within the bounds of the regulations.  Don Rickles embraces this as the entrepreneurial and sharp-tongued supply sergeant Crap Game in Kelly’s Heroes.  Steve Martin played another NCO who didn’t let little things like rules get in the way in Sgt. Bilko.  James Caan, as real-life WWII Staff Sergeant Eddie Dohun, rescues his critically wounded officer from the battlefield and takes him to an aid station in A Bridge Too Far.  When the doctor refuses to look at what seems to be a hopeless case, SSG Dohun did what any good sergeant would do and improvised – by sticking his cocked .45 in the surgeon’s face.  The wounded officer lived.

Behind every good officer are literally dozens of great NCOs.  Even Lee Marvin could not have handled The Dirty Dozen without Richard Jaeckel’s Sergeant Bowren.  In Crimson Tide, the feuding officers vie for the support of the Master Chief Petty Officer, the “Chief of the Boat.”  Tom Hanks may have been the commander, but the heart of his company was Sergeant Horvath (Tom Sizemore) in Saving Private Ryan.

That is not just a Hollywood cliché – that is real life.  In fact, some of the best portrayals of NCOs in the movies have simply been the telling of the true stories of what they really did.  Black Hawk Down accurately shows modern urban combat as a confusing and deadly amalgamation of separate firefights involving small units led by young sergeants.  Josh Hartnett does a good job as a Ranger squad leader trying to keep his men alive, while Eric Bana and William Fichtner are Delta sergeants who take the fight right to the enemy. 

But the portrayals that best show the reality of the American NCO are that of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and Johnny Strong as Delta Force Master Sergeants Gary Gordon and Randall Shugart.  As the movie shows, when one of the Blackhawk choppers went down, they repeatedly requested permission to fast rope in to protect the injured crew knowing it would mean near certain death.  Finally getting permission, they set up a perimeter and fought until overrun, littering the streets with the bodies of Somali militiamen and saving one member of the crew.  They earned the Medal of Honor, but I suspect that if we could ask them both would say that they were simply doing what NCOs do and nothing more.

Sam Elliot played another real-life hero, Command Sergeant Major Basil Plumley, in We Were Soldiers. As the movie shows, most enlisted troopers in the Second Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, and the wise officers as well, treated CSM Plumley with an awe verging on terror.  But when the battalion was surrounded by a division of North Vietnamese at Ia Drang, CSM Plumley stayed cool, keeping morale strong in the face of what should have been a massacre.  In the film, and in reality, these cavalrymen fought a massively superior force to a standstill.

Though I am a former cavalry commander, my favorite NCO portrayal is of an infantry sergeant in the British Army.  Zulu depicts the true story of the legendary near-last stand of a company of Welsh soldiers at Rourke’s Drift in South Africa.  The tiny band held their ground against a brave and deadly enemy force forty times their size.  As Colour-Sergeant Bourne, Nigel Greene is the ultimate NCO.  From keeping up standards in battle – “Button your tunic!” – to advocating for his exhausted men to facing down an iklwa-wielding Zulu warrior with his bayonet, Colour-Sergeant Bourne was the backbone of the company. 

Sergeants truly are the backbone of the Army and of the other services.  Right now, a young buck sergeant is leading his Marine fire team through the mountains of Afghanistan, a platoon sergeant is prepping a cavalry patrol through the streets of Kosovo, and a command sergeant major in Iraq is double checking his troops before another convoy mission.  These men and women are the heart of our military.  Take a moment to think about them as you pop in a movie and sit back and relax next weekend, safe and secure.  And raise a beer to them.  I will.