That 70s List: Xander's Film Registry, Part III

*The 1970s*- No other decade contained such a broad spectrum of cultural transformation. The seventies saw the tail end of the counterculture movement, a Hollywood-spawned upswing in Christianity practice thanks to religious scare-fests like The Omen, and the very velvety rise of disco. This decade, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Star Trek, Han Solo, and great white sharks swarmed movie screens around the world; some people wore hideous outfits; All in the Family served as the televised ambassador of old-fashioned conservativism's clash with newfangled liberalism; and more hideous outfits.

MASH (1970)- Zanier, raunchier, and more genuinely funny (as in, actually funny) than its TV spinoff, Robert Altman's somewhat neglected war comedy is probably the only film that is both seen as a masterpiece and rejected in the mainstream. It's certainly the only good one. Filmed entirely with zoom lenses (that sounds headache-inducing, but it's really not) with a gargantuan cast (including Donald Sutherland, Sally Kellerman, Robert Duvall, and, 23 years before he became Odo on Deep Space Nine, Rene Auberjonois), MASH is an outrageous example of finding humor in the darkest of circumstances. And the top-quality script has "Revenge of the Blacklisted" written all over it.

The Godfather (1972)- Remember, kids. When you're going out to whack the rat in your crime family, don't forget to pick up the cannolis from the bakery on your way home. Francis Ford Coppola's epic masterpiece (adapted from Mario Puzo's... well, piece, at the very least) is refreshingly entertaining. And paradoxical, too: it simultaneously condones and condemns the life of the mobster. And as the raspy-voiced patriarch of the Corleone family, Marlon Brando reminds us that his ridiculously high paychecks were always worth it. Like MASH, it is also a cross-section of Hollywood's past and future best and brightest: Al Pacino, Diane Keaton, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Abe Vigoda, Morgana King, Sterling Hayden.... There will never be another crime drama that even comes close. It breaks my heart.

American Graffiti (1973)- All American Graffiti is legitimately remembered for in most circles is having the best soundtrack of the 70s, with every major Johnny & Sue Era hit from "Barbara Anne" to "Johnny B. Goode." Unfortunately, people don't recognize that, as a director, it is George Lucas' supreme accomplishment. Star Wars was great, but the series suffered in any of the four films he helmed (the true greats in the series are Return of the Jedi and The Empire Strikes Back). Only for this nostalgic story about friends leaving for college does his chalkboard-clapping genius come through. The ensemble cast is at their peak. The pervasive music underscores, but never outshines. And best of all is the where-are-they-now ending, both funny in its out-of-this-era comfort and chilling in its icy predictions.

The Exorcist (1973)- Whew, speaking of icy and chilling! The Exorcist is often cast aside as un-scary in this modern time-- although I'm sorry, but a digital lava monster just isn't scary-- or loathed for its depiction of absolute evil coming in through the bathroom window and terrorizing the innocent. Of course, those people fail to see the film for what it is: a stern condemnation of unchained evil. And when the elderly Father Merrin (now one of my favorite characters in film history) arrives at the Georgetown doorstep of single mother/movie star Chris MacNeill, you can't resist the urge to jump up and shout, "Ha, evil! Sucks to be you!" And then there's Regan, the 12-year-old girl tormented by the evil demon Pazuzu (not, in fact, Satan, as the common misconception goes), physically acted brilliantly by Linda Blair and voiced in her altered state by the (I admit it) sub-par Mercedes McCambridge. Brutal, lewd, and profane, it's still a masterpiece. And every second of brutal, profane lewdness has its purpose. Unlike the movies of today.

Jesus Christ Superstar (1973)- The same year that The Exorcist showed off the grim side of spirituality, David Greene (Godspell) and Norman Jewison (Superstar) directed G-rated Biblical musicals that anachronize (I officially declare that a word if it isn't already) the Gospels. Superstar is the better of the two. Jewison, who also directed Fiddler on the Roof, brought the entire production to the beautiful Holy Land itself, showcased in crumbling ruins and fantastic caves. But at the center of it all are the performances. There is no dialogue that isn't sung or accompanied, and no one handles rock opera like Carl Anderson, who should have won a little golden guy for his tortured, vocally demanding portrayal of Judas. Douglas Slocombe's unspeakably bewitching cinematography should have gotten one as well. One of those masterpieces that doesn't really get recognition. It is a well-loved film... by the twenty people who have seen it.

Tommy (1975)- The other big rock opera of the sixties, Tommy, got another big promotion to the silver screen. This one, though, is decidedly less... well, for lack of a better word, divine. It's a masterpiece, true-- but while Superstar aspired to show a more glorious side of human nature, Tommy is pure dregs. Most of the characters (the psychotic Cousin Kevin, perverted Uncle Ernie, the murderous stepfather Frank, and even Tommy's sometimes-saintly mother, Nora) belong behind bars, and so does the director for that matter. The movie-- which, for the record, missed the mark of the original opera's message by about a zillion miles-- shows everything from the virtues of faith to the dangers of cultism to the bitter, evil side of human nature. Tommy's parents get all the money their deaf/dumb/blind son makes at pinball. And in the end, when Tommy-- cured-- tries to tell his newfound followers that they don't need to live in fear, they kill his family and leave him for dead. Not uplifting in the slightest, but brilliantly acted, well-sung (mostly), and stunningly staged.

The Omen (1976)- There's so much more to this undervalued Richard Donner classic than 666, Damien, and prophetic mumbo-jumbo. The really scary things about it are two: one, Jerry Goldsmith's haunting score comprised mainly of Latin chants; two, the fact that everything that happens within the movie, every tragedy, has a legitimate possible explanation. The cheaply conceived, expensively realized 2006 remake lacked the element of mystery-- in fact, it openly defied it by altering one of the film's climactic demises. But in this brilliant original, for all we know, the people who try to reveal Damien's identity as the Antichrist could be insane. The child never says more than a very short sentence that any five-year-old might say, and even the superbly performed role of nanny Mrs. Baylock may not be the Satanic guardian we're inclined to believe she is; it's all suggestive. And brilliantly, that's what works. Sidenote: the money Fox made off this movie went partially towards paying for Star Wars.

Superman (1978)- Another great Richard Donner film, this campy but somehow believable film defined the modern superhero genre for Hollywood. For taking over the role played so perfectly by real-life hero Christopher Reeve, 21st-century tabloid-fodder poser Brandon Routh should be jailed for the rest of his life. Other top-notch talent fills the movie from start to finish, from Marlon Brando as Superman's Kryptonian father to Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor, whose initially ridiculous sounding real-estate scheme turns into one of the biggest, most believable apocalyptic nightmares ever conceived for a comic-book picture. Speaking of nightmares, Margot Kidder is terrible as Lois Lane, but you can't have everything. And with John Williams' nearly incomparable score, the eye-popping special effects, and Geoffrey Unsworth's tragically final round of cinematographic genius, Superman comes close to filling that unattainable quota.

Hair (1979)- 11 years after the play shook the world, Milos Forman (Amadeus) directed a thoroughly different two-hour movie with the same character names and songs, but a continuous story in the place of the play's famous book-that-isn't-really-a-book. A great cross-section of the 1960s hippie movement, the film version of Hair is a mostly brilliant beginning and middle thrown together with an ending that is at first jarring, but eventually can be recognized as a brilliant work of cinema. You'll walk away singing "Manchester England," "Donna," "3500," "I Got Life," and "Easy to Be Hard," and just about every other song herein. As far as movie musicals go, it's not perfect. But it's pretty close.

The Muppet Movie (1979)- I firmly believe that every child should see this movie before the age of two. In the same year that Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock made their big-screen debut, the better story and star treatments went to the TV-to-film transition of Kermit and Fozzie. From the Hollywood prologue to the swamp-bound prelude of "The Rainbow Connection" to the uproarious conclusion, The Muppet Movie is one childish spectacle that adults shouldn't have to put aside. And kids won't get the numerous celebrity cameos, but that just means they get to focus on the magic of Jim Henson at work-- a genius that has never, and will never, be equaled.

Next up, we tackle the 1980s. For all you XC readers out there, that means everything from powdered wigs to fuzzy Russian hats to pointy Vulcan ears.