Later today, much later, the 1925 version of Ben-Hur runs on TCM and it got me to thinking about a post I did almost a year ago, There’s This One Scene, where I discussed movies that have one or two scenes I really like and not much else. Ben-Hur, a fine production (both this and the 1959 version), is nonetheless a movie that doesn’t appeal to me much but, at the same time, I love the sea battle and the chariot race. In the comments of that post, Syd quoted an interview the British Film Institute conducted with Jimmy Stewart in which he talks about the movies creating moments that we can all remember and take with us. I’ve long thought of movies this way, as moments strung together in my memory and the quote from Stewart encapsulates it perfectly. Even my favorite movies often come down to moments, not full scenes, literally just a moment or two on the screen that affected me strongly enough that it’s lived in my memory ever since and become the mental road sign for any particular movie that might spring to mind.
We’ll start with a classic and a classic scene that most everyone is familiar with, the scene from Casablanca where Victor Lazlo walks over to the band and asks them to play La Marseillaise. The band members look over to Rick for the thumbs up or down and Rick nods, not only giving permission for a rousing bit of French patriotism but letting the audience know he’s not the hardened loner he makes himself out to be. It’s a great moment and, honestly, the moment that always comes to mind first when thinking of the movie. Again, I’m not talking about the whole scene, though the whole scene is great, I’m just talking about that single moment when Rick nods. That single slice of minuscule time will live on with me forever.
Also…
Kane hits the carriage return on the typewriter and says, “Sure we’re speaking Jedediah. You’re fired.” Citizen Kane.
Michael Corleone slips his hand into his jacket outside the hospital to make the car passing by think he has a gun, The Godfather.
The cars form a carousal in the roundabout, Playtime.
The narration at the opening of The Third Man states, “Of course a situation like that does tempt amateurs,” while showing a dead body floating in the river.
Invaders from Mars, last scene, “Gee whiz!”
Leslie Nielsen vaporizes a leaping tiger, Forbidden Planet.
Candace Hilligoss leans over to pick up a dress in a department store dressing room and when she stands back up, all the ambient sound is gone. Carnival of Souls.
Sinking to an oily death, The Wages of Fear.
Marlene slips off her heels and walks into the desert, Morocco.
The look on Christina’s face when the pool is drained and there’s no body there, Diabolique.
The plane skims the mountain top and crashes into the snow, Lost Horizon.
DP Jack Cox pans his camera across one of my favorite miniatures of all time, the railway station at the start of Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes.
Ethan spins around and shoots the all time “if looks could kill” stare in The Searchers.
The picnic suddenly turns terrifying, Walkabout.
Biswambhar, slumped liked a living corpse in a chair on his mansion rooftop, The Music Room.
A severed head impossibly utters its last words, Aguirre, the Wrath of God.
Sean Connery bleeds and, in an instant, you know it’s all over for him, The Man Who Would be King.
Ratzo Rizzo is “walkin’ here!” He’s “walkin’ here!” Midnight Cowboy.
“Here’s five dollars, keep it under your hat.” [takes money back] “Never mind, I’ll keep it under mine.” Duck Soup
The has-been director ends his life, What Price Hollywood?
Scottie sees the necklace and we see the realization come over his face, Vertigo.
Pina is shot dead in the street, Rome: Open City.
Sister Ruth flings open the door, her face does the rest, Black Narcissus.
And many, many more. I suppose I could just keep going but I think you get the point. Often, an entire movie can come down to a few seconds of screen time that repeats in our heads forever after. Of course, with all of the movies mentioned above, I like or love the whole movie but these moments stand out particularly well. Sometimes because they came as such a shock the first time I saw them (despite all the beauty on display in Walkabout, for instance, the moment you realize the father’s intent at the picnic is to murder his own children, well…) and other times there’s simply a joy in the beauty of the moment, like when everything comes together to form a joyous carnival in Playtime. The movies can give us so much, so often, but sometimes all we really need is just a moment.