CHEWERS 250 GREATEST MURDERS IN CINEMATIC HISTORY

 

John Baxter's guilt made manifest.  A twisted inversion of his hope of saving a child.  Instead he has tracked down his own killer, and rushed headlong into his own death. Which he had presaged earlier when he sees his wife in black on the canals of Venice, even though she was supposed to be out of the country at the time.

 

 

In a film splattered wall-to-bloody-wall with indiscriminate killing, the murder we feel most deeply happens off-screen.  The violence of Henry's murder of Becky, the one soul he might have had a chance of connecting with, is all internal, communicated with chilling beauty by director John McNaughton and Michael Rooker's brilliant and subtle acting in Henry's final journey with his last victim in the film.  Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer is the final word in serial killer movies and the only movie in my mind that cohesively and substantively brings the serial killer's strangely mundane, repetitive, vicious and violent but also desperate and painful existence into some form of cinematic life.  The final scene

Jack Vincene's has caught a break in the Night owl killing, and since Ed Exly isn't available he turns to his "full of rogueish charm" chief of police Dudley Smith.  After admonishing him for a late call, but saying he's luck his beautiful daughters aren't in he invites Vincenes in.

 

HOLY FUCK this one shocked and horrified me.

 

 

Scorsese creates a symphony of murder cut to one of the most beautiful songs of all time, all leading up to the most significant piece of violence in a film full of it. 

 

 

 

 

It belongs as high up on this list as we can make it.  It's not just about the shock of it, or even the famous editing. What Hitchcock did here was give the audience what they came for, linking titillation and violence in a way mainstream movie audiences probably hadn't seen before.  At least not in such a deliberately in your face kind of a way.  It was not only pulling the rug out from under the audience, it was also raising the curtain on the real star of the film.  Not the generic heroes and heroines, but the real allure of the villain.

 

 

Without a doubt one of my favorite films, there are many things about this film that have always resonated with me. Whether it be recognizing the gay couple as the idealistic loving family of the film while dealing with my own sexuality, identifying with Thora Birch's unpleased thoughts on her body and own self worth, or just appreciating Kevin Spacey's character Lester Burnham's attempt to take back his life and live it to the fullest despite his life being the so called "American Dream".

What's so great about the eventual death of Lester by the estranged, hot-headed and closeted next door neighbor Col. Fitts (Chris Cooper) is that you know it's coming. He tells you it in the first few moments of the film, and it still grabs you when it happens. As the films plot slowly peels, you never really know how it's going to happen, or why, and you lose yourself.

When Chris Cooper comes into the house, and the moment occurs, it just feels so wrong, so unjustified, but so satisfying in the grand scheme of things.

 

"The Life And Death Of Jeremy Bentham"

 

 

 

Oh, sure.  You can argue it was self-defense.  The swordsman surely intended to do harm to Indy, but, let's face it...INDY SHOT FIRST!

 

I'll never forget how much this gag KILLED in the theater the first time I saw it.  The theater just erupted with shocked laughter, because that kind of thing hadn't been done before in this sort of film.  Sure, it was kind of "dishonorable", but, hey, history is written by the winners.  

 

Kong was murdered. A King -- kidnapped, exploited, hunted, and shot like a beast. Not the capital "B" Beast that Denham tries to elevate the victim and therefore the deed with, but as the dumb, ultimately hapless animal he was treated as throughout. It wasn't just the groundbreaking special effects that made this film one of the original blockbusters, and audiences were given more than just an adventure tale. Willis O'Brien endows Kong with a humanity more pitiable than the humans who fled before him then mercilessly gunned him down, and Max Steiner's eternal score lets us know that, yes, this is a tragedy. Audiences were given a monster movie that establishes fear and respect for the monster and then at the very end, makes you cry for him -- while no one else on the screen ever does.

 

Forgive the colorization, best clip without additional sound editing I could drum up:

 

 

Note how there is no score until a good minute in, after Kong's taken any number of bullets and is bleeding from the chest, slumping over. This is a cold act of violence, a murder and nothing less.

 

What the well-intentioned remakes (and I do enjoy Jackson's effort, and understand why he needed to make it) and copycats get wrong is that Kong's love should never be requited; it's his lonely, confused death that, to our surprise, bonds the audience to this monster. And is why an 18" special effect remains one of the single most pervasive and immortal fictional characters of the 20th century.

 

Richard Chance and Jimmy Hart are heroes after saving the Gipper from a bomb, I think it's been awhile. Poor old Hart gives up the ghost and sends Chance and his new partner Vukovich on a downward spiral that ends, for the former, with a twelve gauge to the face. Maybe I had an idealized view of what movies were the first time I saw this, I mean it came out a few years after I was born, but I never thought the "hero" could be ripped away so unceremoniously. The whole scene is pretty much zero to sixty, "...Jesus Christ." *SHOTGUN!*

 

 

After typing that whole title, I don't even have to bother with a description, right?

 

Oh, okay... if you insist.

 

The murderer and victim take their places for the execution like actors hitting their marks on a stage.  There is a feeling of resignation, as if these men are doomed to repeat this over and over again; prisoners of history.  The artificiality is further highlighted by seeing Bob's reflection in the glass of the photo Jesse is hanging, a picture within a picture within a (motion) picture.  Lyrical and sad, this is perhaps the best scene in one of the best years for American cinema since the 70's.

 

 

 

With no more left to conquer, a man of a singular and unquenchable appetite for dominance rots in his mansion; until he is visited by a former rival, now utterly pathetic, and unleashes his pent up fury.  It gushes like one of the oil wells he used to tap.  This also may be the best scene in one of the best years for American cinema since the 70's.

 

 

 

Chigurh is making a statement with this killing.  Here is a man who will stop because he sees a symbol of authority (a police car), even though he has done nothing wrong, and the man driving the car doesn't look like a cop, and is carrying a strange contraption.  He's wary of the man getting out of the car, but he will still do whatever he says, because he has been conditioned to do so.  So he just stands there, perfectly still, as Chigurh holds up the strange device to his forehead and executes him.  It's something used to kill cattle. No doubt Anton's commentary on the worth and quality of the average human life.  (But also, practically, he does need to switch cars, after all.)

 

This may be the best scene in one of the best years... eh, forget it.

 

 

 

Probably one of the more beautiful murders in recent cinematic history.  It's as if rose petals were bursting from Shoshanna's stomach in slow-motion.  Then you throw in Morricone...

 

 

The monster and the little girl throw flowers into the water, until they run out of flowers.

Still shocking. The monster doesn't understand what he does, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a dangerous creature set forth upon the world by Henry Frankenstein's negligence. One of horror's iconic scenes.

Hank Quinlan (Orson Welles) strangles Joe Grandi (Akim Tamiroff) and pins it on Janet Leigh. With Russell Metty's glorious camera work and the striking score, Welles turns this into one of the most harrowing on-screen murders I've ever seen. Tamiroff's eyes bulge, his tongue sticks out, and Quinlan grunts and struggles. Still chilling.

Boromir betrays the trust given to him by the Council in attempting to wrest the One Ring from Frodo. Upon realizing the severity of his transgression, he attempts to seek redemption by protesting the two most helpless members of his Fellowship, Merry and Pippin. He slaughters dozens of orcs in melee combat before being shot by the first arrow. He musters his strength to take down the orcs sent to finish him off and is shot by a second arrow. He rallies again. A third arrow. Merry and Pippin rush to his defense, only to be abducted.

 

Another murder that happens off-screen.  The mystery has been solved.  Serial killer Buffalo Bill is dead, and Clarice Starling has just graduated the FBI Academy as a full agent.  She gets a phone call and when she answers it, we move from Virginia to a tropical beach town.  Hannibal "the Cannibal" Lecter is transformed, from a pasty resident of a Baltimore prison to a tanned and healthy expat with blond hair and a light-colored suit.  Frozen Clarice hears his last words to her, "I have to go now, Clarice, I'm having an old friend for dinner," and we see his old tormentor Dr. Chilton climb out of an airplane and move officiously toward his destination.  Hannibal tilts a fedora over his brow and fades into the crowd after him, as Clarice urgently whispers his name and Howard Shore's mournful yet triumphant music rises.    The perfect murder

When King Arthur kills Mordred at the end of the final battle. Arthur knows he isn't coming back from this battle, but he knows he must stand up to Mordred. That is what makes him a hero. The scene is pretty gory. Mordred runs Arthur threw with a lance. Arthur then slides down the lance to kill Mordred. Finally that evil little inbred had to die! Sadly I couldn't find this scene on youtube.

 

After arriving at the location John Doe tells Somerset and Mills to go, they are interrupted by a delivery van. Somerset runs to the van, to discover a package, the driver claiming that he was instructed to bring the package to this location at this time. After opening the package, he runs back to Mills who begins an intense, disturbing conversation with Doe.

Doe claims admiration for Mills, and his wife, revealing he visited his house earlier that day. He explains he tried to play husband, to live through him, and because of unfortunate circustamnces, it didn't turn out well for her. He admits that the package holds his wife's head, taking it as a souvenir.. As Somerset tries to stop Mills from reacting violently to this news and shooting Doe, Doe then reveals that his wife was pregant, must to the dismay of Mills.

After much hesitation, Mills shoots Doe in the head, several times as the score screeches and pounds in the background. Just brutal way to end a rather brutal movie.

 

Do I need to write anything more than death by stereo?
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Probably the most beautifully filmed murder sequence listed so far, if not simply full stop.  Haunting, operatic, with more than a touch of irony, there are elements of Hitchcock, of course, and Antonioni; but it's pure De Palma.  Still the best thing he's ever done.  Some people have observed this as the last film of the 70's, and I always liked that label.  Key events from the previous 20 years, like Watergate, Vietnam, Chappaquidick, and the JFK asassination/Zapruder film all feel like they're lingering over the whole film.  And, fittingly, the main character is reduced to a voyeur as he is forced to listen to the woman he's falling in love with be murdered by a psychotic agent of larger, sinister forces.  In the end he places her death scream into a slasher movie he's been doing the sound for.  He's finally found the really good scream he'd been looking for.  As always, De Palma at his ironic, self reflexive best.

 

 

One of those "Holy Fuck!" moments in film. The music, the lighting, Tom Savini's great gore effects all work together to give us one of the ultimate murders ever. Not that many people get to blow up their own head.

 

I love to Road to Perdition. I've said it a million times before in just about every list on here that I can squeeze it into. When Michael Sullivan (Tom Hanks) has finally exhausted every avenue that he can possibly think of, hitting up Capone for safety and then robbing the shit out of him and John Rooney to try and "trade" for his son's safety, he sucks it up and does what has to be done. The layout of the scene itself and the score are fucking amazing. Once you see the rounds actually start to hit  the schmuck holding the umbrella, and it's all playing out in silence, save the score, you know John Rooney (Paul Newman) is at his end. Even the way Newman just stands at the car with his back to the chaos, his men falling all around him. Then he turns and there's Hanks, looking haggard and nowhere near as hateful as he should for everything his adopted "father" has put him through. Even when Rooney gives his last words, "I'm glad it's you." and Hanks' shoulders the Thompson, on the verge of tears you know that this was his absolute last resort. It's bitter sweet. All the art goes out the window and you finally get to hear that typewriter chatter as if Rooney's death was the only one, in the scene, that mattered and in a way it was. I fucking love Road to Perdition.

 

 

Butch kills Vincent.

 

Why?  Because the pop tarts went up.

 

In all seriousness, it affected me for its overall matter-of-factness (boom, the machine gun goes off and he's dead) and also for the fact that Travolta IS ALIVE for the final act of the film.  You always have it in the back of your mind that hey...this guy just got killed.  We know his fate.  Knowing his fate makes the final conversation with Sam take on a different subtext.

 

 

Angel Eyes kills Baker

 

Because you know...when he gets paid, he always sees the job through.

 

It's brutal how he covers up his face with the pillow and simply empties his gun into his face.  HOLY SHIT.  The thing that really makes it sing is the truly evil smile that he has on his face afterwards when 'the bad' is written on the screen.

 

 

Frank kills the boy.

 

Henry Fonda.  To be the bad guy is one thing.  To go so far as to murder a child???  Holy shit, what film are we watching???  Nothing more badass than this.

 

 

 

Primal and hallucinatory.  In what feels to me more like an act of defiance by a brilliant man confronted with the senselessness of war than actual megalomania, Kurtz took his mission to its most extreme conclusion... casting himself as a conqueror god.  Having nowhere else to go, and nothing else to live for, he allows himself to be slaughtered like an animal.  Perfectly scored to The Doors, and juxtaposed against the tribal killing of a beast of burden, Kurtz' death by Willard is almost a mockery of ritual; a final nod to the absurdity of Vietnam.

 

 

 

Fincher sets the tone for his serial killer epic with this incredible opening scene. Everything Fincher uses here - the slow-mo, the classic Americana setting of a make out point and last, but not certainly least, the use of Donovan's Hurdy Gurdy Man is fantastic.

 

 

 

As good as the opening scene in, I find the killing at the lake much more harrowing because of the sheer matter of factness of it.  No score, no fancy camera work, just the couple's growing apprehension, then fear, then terror, then ... nothing.  A truly haunting scene, made more so by its chilling simplicity.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFN4Bb7wcog

 

 

 

 

 

In the years since I've watched this film, a good chunk of it has faded away, but this scene is indelible. The zoom-in is so startling here that I don't think it needs the music sting. Unfortunately, this scene offered promise of a better movie than was given, but we did get this one great moment.

 

"If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."  Light against dark, jedi against sith, Obi Wan Kenobi versus Darth Vader.  These old friends meet again as enemies.  An enigmatic smile lights Obi Wan's face when he sees that Luke will escape the Death Star.  Then, in his death blow, Vader strikes down Obi Wan, setting in motion an epic denouement that will lead implacably to his own redemption and death.  That moment, with John Williams' music drifting then surging through the air, has given me chills all the hundreds of times I've watched Star Wars and even just now. 

 

Is it more chilling, or funny?  Is it more chilling because it's funny (or funnier because it's so chilling?) Does Dave even kill HAL, or does he just "kill" HAL?  The scene itself is crafted impeccably, with Dave's heavy breathing functioning as a sort of score.  It would be worthy of inclusion based on that alone.  But the philosophical questions the scene raises make it truly legendary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gary Oldman and his crew decide to pay a visit to Mathilda's family...at Noon.

 

Essentially the entire family is killed, including the children.  The mother (Ellen Green) has a particularly brutal death, taking a shotgun full force in the face while having a bath.