psionicpoet's reviews

There are few films that can make the claim of being regarded as the best film ever made. "Citizen Kane" could. "Casablanca" could. But here on IMDb, "The Godfather" reigns supreme, and with good reason.

Do not make the mistake of thinking that The Godfather is a mobster movie, focusing on action, violence, and Tommy guns. Think of the title, and what it implies. The movie could have been titled "The Mafia", "The Don", or a dozen other things, but instead, they chose a familial word for this film. Thus, it must be the family, and specifically, the role of Godfather, that must be the film's subject.

There are three Godfathers that this movie examines: Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando), Sonny Corleone (James Caan), and Michael Corleone (Al Pacino). All three have their defining traits; Vito his traditional views, Sonny his furious temper, and Michael his reluctance to enter into the family business. Through the leadership of each, the movie follows the story of the Corleone family as they cope with joy and sadness, and life and death.

One of the most enduring aspects of The Godfather is its score. Probably behind only the works of John Williams (Jaws, Star Wars, Indiana Jones) in its recognizability, the familiar theme form The Godfather has become the theme for the mafia and every stereotyped Italian mobster group the world over. Likewise, infamous scenes such as that involving the surprise left for the stubborn director have ingrained themselves into the realm of organized crime forever.

The story that The Godfather tells is superb. As power transfers from one leader to the next, we hope for the best for people that are ultimately criminals. How was director Francis Ford Coppola able to humanize figures that would typically be stereotyped? By infusing them with life and background, and showing to the audience that even the hardest mafia hitman has a softer side.

The Godfather has accomplished a feat few films have: winning enough critical and audience acclaim to cement itself in cinema history forever. As long as people desire to experience human drama on an intimate level, The Godfather will "make them an offer they can't refuse".

Oft-cited as one of the top horror movies of all time, along with such fare as "Jaws" and "Alien", "Psycho" is Alfred Hitchcock's most well-known film. Why would this one film, made before the peak of his career, come to be the most famous? It's simple: Hitchcock was at his best when he toyed with audiences' expectations, and "Psycho" did that in a big way.

Viewers in the 1960's were not as jaded and suspicious when they waled into theaters as they are today. Now, people try to guess the endings of M. Night Shyamalan movies before the first hour is up, whereas the audiences of Hitchcock's time were more passive. Hitchcock took advantage of this quality by establishing a seemingly unstable character -- the titular psycho -- only to force us later on to question who was really most deserving of that dubious honor.

The plot is simple: Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is a struggling office worker, carrying on a relationship with a man she knows can't support her. Faced with these pressures and an opportunity to change them, she steals $40,000 from her workplace and goes on the run. She stops at the Bates Motel, a forgotten little establishment strapped for visitors ever since the highway was diverted elsewhere. The caretaker there is Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins), a charming young man who exudes an aura of strange intensity. It is there at the motel that the fate of Marion and her stolen money will be decided, by forces outside her control. The nature of those forces is not truly revealed until the last minutes of the film, in what was an truly outrageous ending for a movie of the 60's.

The performances of the main characters are very good, with special attention being paid to Anthony Perkins. Perkins never got another major role after his turn as the conflicted Norman Bates; his stellar performance in "Psycho" cementing him in audience's minds as a certain kind of character actor. Janet Leigh as Marion Crane acts just as you would expect a desperate and paranoid criminal on the run to. The supporting cast is capable, with the exception of Marion's love interest, Sam Loomis (John Gavin). He comes off as the typical, brutish boyfriend type, a one-note character with little to do other than exist in various stages of outrage.

The camerawork in "Psycho" is exceptional, especially considering the tools available to Hitchcock at the time. The long zoom in to the room where Sam and Marion are meeting is phenomenal for a 60's movie, as is the way Hitchcock stages the infamous "shower scene" that so scared the public. As in the aforementioned classic horror movies, Hitchcock deftly hides his "monster", his "psycho", allowing us only brief glimpses at it to let the tension and suspense to build. Perhaps the ultimate failing of "Psycho" is in its lasts minutes, when the unmasking of the true "psycho" leaves audiences over-saturated with information when they had so long been left in the dark. There is such a thing as "too much information", and the end of "Psycho" suffers for it.

"Psycho" is and will continue to be remembered as the seminal Hitchcockian film, whether it is his best or not (I, for one, find "Rear Window" to be a better film). With the way Hitchcock played the movie-going audience of his time, it is little wonder why this is. As long as people crave an intelligent, suspenseful horror movie as a respite from "Texas Chainsaw Massacre"-style gorefests, "Psycho" can be assured of its firm place in the cinematic cosmos.

Casablanca is one of the most highly-regarded films of all time, by critics and viewers alike. There is something in it for everybody: action, suspense, humor, and romance. Though that may sound like a line ripped from a movie poster, Casablanca deftly balances its time between these varied roles to emerge as one of the most well-rounded films in all of cinema.

The story is simple: Rick runs a café in Morocco, a haven for those oppressed by the Nazi regime in 1940's Europe. "Rick's Café Americain", as it is called, is a refuge for both Americans and those simply down on their luck. One day, Rick's old flame, Ilsa, arrive in Casablanca, her husband in tow. She is not exactly welcomed. As Rick puts it, "of all the gin joints in all the world you had to walk into this one".

Above all, Casablanca is vivid. Though that may seem like an inaccuracy, given that the film is in black and white, there are other ways for vividness to manifest itself than through color.

Monochrome though it may be, the contrast between blacks and whites, between sunlight and shadow in Casablanca is intense. Rick seems trapped in darkness as he stews after hours in his café. Ilsa seems nearly angelic in many scenes, her white face and clothes shining in soft focus.

The film seems itself to sweat. Outdoor shots appear muggy, humid, and uncomfortably warm; many shots seem intentionally blurred, ever so slightly, to give the impression of heat in the air distorting the picture, or perhaps salty sweat obscuring the vision of the camera.

The performances in Casablanca are top-notch. Talented character actors such as Peter Lorre, Sydney Greenstreet (both of "Maltese Falcon" fame) and Claude Rains create convincing and memorable characters, while leading stars such as Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman shine as the main characters, Rick and Ilsa.

Casablanca endures as a pop culture icon, many of its lines achieving catchphrase status. The never-uttered "play it again Sam", Rick's oft-repeated "here's looking at you, kid", and the movie-ending "this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship" are all well-known, and frequently referenced in other works. It endures because though the story may take place in a specific time, the idea of the film is timeless: to sacrifice what you want most for what you know is best. It is the ultimate human ideal, and just as that ideal is held high, so is Casablanca.

What Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis do in "Some Like it Hot" would be par for the course in modern movies – every other month, similar fish-out-of-water movies premiere with men posing as women ("Tootsie"), women posing as men ("The Associate"), black people posing as white people ("White Chicks"), and on and on. What makes "Some Like it Hot" different is two things: the strength of its comedy, and the presence of Marilyn Monroe, then at the height of stardom.

Lemmon and Curtis turn in admirable performances both as Joe and Jerry, and as Josephine and Daphne. Tony Curtis does Lemmon one better by creating a third identity, "Junior", in order to woo Sugar Kane (Monroe).

Tying the pair's story into the Chicago Valentine's Day Massacre, where a gang war spilled over into a parking garage, leaving a number of people lined up against the wall and shot, is a deft touch (though the serious tone of these gang sequences contrasts sharply with the bulk of the movie).

The movie does an excellent job building the far-fetched stakes of the movie ever-higher, from their finding refuge from vengeful gangs in a women's jazz band, to their showdown in the Florida hotel, to the eventual revealing of Curtis' and Lemmon's identities. The movie's surprisingly suggestive and risque content is at odds with the time frame of the movie, and even with the period of the movie's creation. The many smart double-entendres and plays on words are very well-written, and alternate between lowbrow and highbrow comedy,

The films only fault might be a couple of overlong musical numbers, performed either by the whole band or soloed by Sugar Kane. Though to be expected in a Marilyn Monroe film, these musical acts are literal "show stoppers" that bring the comedic momentum of the film to a screeching halt. However, it is easy to over look these minor defects in the movie as a whole, because by and large it is quite funny – no wonder it s considered a classic – and after all, "nobody's perfect".

"Rebel Without a Cause" is the teen angst movie to end all teen angst movies, largely thanks to James Dean's nuanced performance. "Rebel" invented the teen angst genre, a genre has been popular ever since, with constantly Hollywood churning out teen movies at a furious pace. The strength of this movie lies not within its story, which is nothing special until the closing moments of the film. It is special because of the power of its performances, and because it was James Dean's last movie before the car crash that claimed his life.

The story of "Rebel Without a Cause" is simple, a format followed often by subsequent films in the same genre. Jim Stark (Dean) is a troublemaker who has recently arrived in town. It is clear that Stark is not a bad kid at heart, just misunderstood by his parents and acting out in hopes of getting their attention. It's a setup that has become as cliched as the teen movie genre as a whole.

Jim Stark is the core of this movie; everything else revolves around him. The movie follows his attempts to fit in and make friends with some of his new peers, a process made more difficult by the tight cliques and gangs already in place. Stark befriends a student nicknamed "Plato" (Sal Mineo), mostly because they are both outcasts in the society of the high school. Stark also attempts to befriend Judy (Natalie Wood), and though she rebuffs his advances early on, she grows to like him and clings to Jim after the tragedy of the chicken race off the cliff.

The trio's attempts to find solace are interrupted by vengeful friends of Judy's dead boyfriend, out for Jim Stark's blood. Plato is pushed over the edge by the actions of the gang members, and the film ends in one of cinema's greatest and most gripping climaxes.

"Rebel Without a Cause" is important both as a piece of film history for James Dean, and as a portrait of the increasingly disaffected youth of America and the growing rift between they and their parents. It is clear that the seeds of the1960's culture revolution are present in these teens, as they rebel against their parents and societal norms together, in order to form their own society.

The parallels drawn between families, gangs, and friends also shows the three groups to be not that different, and that those teens who cannot find love and affection at home – such as Judy – will often find it in groups that act as stand-ins for family. Perhaps the most engaging part of the story is Jim's efforts to reconcile with his parents, especially his weak father (Jim Backus, of "Mr. Howell" fame on Gilligan's Island) who is controlled by his domineering wife.

By the movie's end, things are finally looking up for Jim, despite a turn for the worse for Plato. He seems truly happy with Judy, and his father seems to finally come into his own and stand up for his son. The message of the film is to fight for what you believe in, even if you don't have anything to believe in yet; as happened for Jim, what you believe in may make itself obvious if you choose to take risks and make a stand. Though Jim Stark may have begun the film as a rebel without a cause, by the time the credits roll, he has found one that he is willing to fight for.

"Rear Window" is, as "Rope" was, a study of setting a story in a confined place. "Rope is notable for the smallness of its set; one studio apartment, rarely leaving the main living, and edited in such a way as to appear as one continuous take. "Rear Window" is famous for just the opposite; it had a giant set, occupying he biggest studio on the lot, with and extra level excavated to provide a life-sized, four-story set. Hitchcock also uses many more cuts, using the shot-reaction-shot technique with L.B. Jeffries (Jimmy Stewart) as he uses cameras and binoculars to observe the goings on outside the rear widow of his apartment.

The main theme of "Rear Window is privacy – how far those standards extend, and what people do when they think they are secure in the privacy of their own home. Jeffries, a magazine photographer trapped in his apartment with a broken leg, turns to the view out his window to while away the hours until his cast comes off. His only contact with the outside world arrives in the form of his nurse, Stella (Thelma Ritter), and female friend Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly), a rich socialite who has a romantic interest in Jeffries (who seems to abandon his photographer skills as an observer when it comes to her).

Hitchcock played with audiences by having them play the role of voyeur along with Jeffries – he knew that human nature compels us to keep staring, even when polite society tells us to look away and mind our own business. By capturing our interest with a variety of characters and a portion of their lives – Miss Lonelyhearts, Miss Torso, etc. – Hitchcock creates an interesting character study as well as his usual thriller. We are only allowed to see what Jeffries sees, bits and pieces presented out of context, and we are left to make our own theories about what these bits mean in the overall lives of these characters.

The main focus of the movie is Jeffries suspicion of Lars Thorwald, who occupies a second-story apartment across from Jeffries'. He notices Thorwald's strained relationship with his wife, then her sudden disappearance. A number of events that could be related follows. As he pries more and more into Thorvald's life, he gets closer and closer to the man himself; climaxing in Lisa's entry into Thorwald's home to search for clues, and the mano-a-mano confrontation between the Jeffries and Thorwald at the film's end.

By the movie's end, resolution has been achieved for most of the characters in the film; the truth about Thorwald is discovered, Miss Torso's husband arrives back from war, the couple that sleeps outside is training a new puppy, Miss Lonelyhearts and the musician with the studio apartment have linked up romantically. Even pessimistic Jeffries, bound yet again in his apartment with two broken legs, has found resolution, finally accepting Lisa as an equal. As the movie ends, the shutters on the window are drawn – he doesn't need them anymore.

"Mr. Smith Goes to Washington", though overly sentimental and a bit over the top at its climax, provides a unique look at what America of the late 1930's wanted itself to be – for "Mr. Smith", both as a movie and as a character, is the ideal political drama. A regular, average-joe citizen (Jimmy Stewart) finds himself an emergency appointee in the wake of a senator's death. Even though this average-joe, Jefferson Smith, is a naïve country boy planted by a political machine, he still somehow fights a David and Goliath battle against dishonest businessmen and politicians.

This is the state of politics America wanted to be true, then and now. It has a cynical press that first defames Smith, then later sides with him in his epic political fight. It has a well-oiled political machine that first destroys Smith, then is destroyed by him. Time and again throughout the movie, the pure idealism exuded by Smith wins over every one around him (most comically the Vice President himself) and leads him to triumph over his enemies.

This idealized view of US politics came at a critical point in US history: in 1939, Hitler was well on his way to conquering Poland and the rest of Europe, sowing the seeds of World War II. Director Frank Capra's congressional refresher course served to remind Americans what separated them from their enemies and made their liberties worth protecting (a concept Capra would revisit in his "Why We Fight" series of propaganda films for the US government)

If Smith's naivete is played up (especially in a handful of romantic scenes), it is only to further drive home the point that the US system allows for even those such as Mr. Smith to create political change – at least in the world of the movie. The resolution of the climax is also quite melodramatic, with a Perry Mason-esque shouted confession from the guilty party and a subsequence nervous collapse.

Overall, "Mr. Smith" is ultimately a product of its time. Sentimental? Yes. Melodramatic? Yes. Over the top? Yes. But all this was a purposeful move by Capra to show off the power and freedom afforded by the US political system. As a period piece, a political film, and simply as an enjoyable tale about overcoming adversity in the name of truth, "Mr. Smith goes to Washington" will live on as one of both Capra's and Stewart's best films.

When director Bob Clark was making "A Christmas Story" in 1983, he probably didn't know that it would go on to be a classic -- that 20 years after the fact, there would be cable TV stations that play the movie round the clock on Christmas day. As far as he knew, he was just converting the popular written and spoken work of Jean Shepherd, whose essays often dealt with his childhood in the 1940's Midwest.

Culled from a number of different pieces by Jean Shepherd, and a few inventions of the director and cast, "A Christmas Story" is comprised not of a single story, but a number of Christmastime vignettes featuring the same family, all with a common element running through them (whether in the background or foreground). That element is quest of Ralphie (Peter Billingsley), one of the family's two boys, to receive the ultimate Christmas gift: a Red Ryder BB gun, or as he calls it, "an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle".

Ralphie is absolutely obsessed with obtaining the BB gun. He leaves Red Ryder advertisements in his parents magazines, he fantasizes about saving his family from robbers, and even seeks out Santa's help when him mom tells him "you'll shoot your eye out!" Ralphie's quest is so important to him, his desire so strong, that the viewer can't help but identify with him, even if the Christmas present they once wanted above all others wasn't a BB gun.

The narrative structure employed by "A Christmas Story" is not uncommon -- the most well-known example, apart from the movie itself, is "The Wonder Years", a TV show about a young boy narrated by his adult self. The juxtaposition of young Ralphie's actions with old Ralphie's words and thoughts makes his quest seem even more all-important, and creates not just a little hyperbole on the behalf of the elder Ralphie's memories.

"A Christmas Story" is sweet, but it is far from saccharine. From Ralphie's constantly swearing father (a man seemingly ahead of his time) to the bitter "Battle of the Lamp", the film takes turns satirizing and paying tribute to life in the 1940's, especially during Christmas.

If there is any reason that "A Christmas Story" has risen to stand with such movies as "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Miracle on 13th Street", it's because it is honest. The movie pulls no punches (except perhaps in the case of a certain word that isn't "fudge") and doesn't try to paint an overly idealized or cynical portrait of the era at hand. By using the actual memories of author (and in the movie, narrator) Jean Shepherd, "A Christmas Story" is infused with enough life and relevance to make it worthy of being a Christmas classic.

When it comes to Christmas classics, "It's A Wonderful Life" is probably at the top of the list, and with good reason. Rising above the clichés of the Christmas genre, the movie stands on its own two feet as a good film, through and through. It's director Frank Capra at his best, and Jimmy Stewart in one of his best roles as George Bailey.

The story is this: George Bailey is in trouble. Years upon years of dashed hopes and abandoned dreams have slowly weakened his spirits, and the threat of closing the Bailey Building and Loan – the institution he's sacrificed everything to save -- finally breaks him down. He contemplates suicide to save the Building and Loan once again with his life insurance policy. Providence intervenes, however, and uses an angel (Henry Travers) to show George just how much of a difference he's made when he declares "I wish I was never born".

"It's A Wonderful Life" is much more than just a Christmas movie; it's a movie that's ultimately about everyday life. Not everyone may lose $8000 and worry about bank foreclosure every day, but everyone can probably point to a time when they felt like George Bailey.

The movie shows George's transformation from a hopeful young man who dreams of seeing faraway lands into a pragmatic adult who has been forced so sacrifice his dreams so that others might follow theirs. He sacrifices his honeymoon time and money to save the Building and Loan from closing. George works for years to pay his brother's way through college n hopes that later he will be able to attend himself – only to have his brother return married with a job and a good future already lined up. Time and again, George willingly steps into the background, shelving his dreams, in order to serve others.

George is finally able to see how much his sacrifices have meant when the angel Clarence shows him how the world would be different had he never been born. His brother would have died as a child, because George wasn't there to save him from drowning. Mr. Potter, the local land tycoon, would have taken over the town after the Building and Loan shut down when George's father died. When he realizes the impact his life has made, he returns to the world he knows only to find the people who he's helped through the years come back to save him and the Building and Loan.

"It's A Wonderful Life" is one of the few Christmas films to hold more than simple holiday cheer: it seeks to enlighten the viewer to appreciate the impact their sacrifices have made. This message would have been especially relevant when the movie was released in the post-WWII United States, where so many had sacrificed time, resources or their lives to help the war effort.

"It's A Wonderful Life" remains relevant today by virtue of its thoughtful message and skillful crafting in directing, writing, and acting, that all lend its message all the more weight. This movie is one that truly deserves to be thought of as "classic".

Grade: A

"Miracle on 34th Street" is a cinematic staple of the Christmas season. It's played on TV and on countless VCRs and DVD players around the country come December, and nearly everyone's seen it. It's a bona fide classic.

That being said, "Miracle" leaves something to be desired.

The film's plot, which you are probably familiar with, centers on the "conversion" of a little girl, Susan Walker (Natalie Wood), who has been brought up to be resolutely practical by her mother, Doris (Maureen O'Hara). Santa (Edmund Gwenn), or Kris Kringle as he calls himself, enters into he film by playing Santa in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York. He does a good enough job to be hired as a Santa for Macy's, where hilarity ensues (who knew?) as Kringle runs into various and sundry non-believers. The film climaxes with Kringle on trial for insanity, and Susan's belief in Santa at stake. I'll give you two guesses as to how it turns out (Hint: Christmas classic).

In this movie, Maureen O'Hara has all the acting range of a wooden plank. Every line she utters as Mrs. Walker is stiffly delivered with a level of poise and restraint that borders on the comical. This may stem from the true cause of Walker's desire to "protect" her daughter from fantasy -- she is obviously a single mother, and it is alluded to that a bitter divorce has somewhat disillusioned her. O'Hara's restrained performance may be a purposeful attempt to portray a character that is consumed with bitterness but strives to keep a cool façade, although that seems a stretch. Natalie Wood does a much better job as Susan, and manages to convincingly portray the different stages of belief her character goes through.

The movie obviously wants us to side with Kringle (indeed it is very hard not to), but it's interesting to consider the movie as if the naysayers are right, and "Kris Kringle" is really just a delusional old man. Viewed in that context, Kringle's behavior and advice come off more as the distressing delusions of a certifiable lunatic, rather than the heartwarming actions of a kindly old man trying to save Christmas.

Taken for what it is meant to be -- formulaic holiday escapism -- "Miracle" does a satisfactory job. The acting is adequate, and the story appropriately nostalgic, upbeat and cute, but it lacks any real depth or subtlety.

It's incredible to see how masterfully Orson Welles, a Hollywood newcomer both in front of and behind the camera, has outclassed the directors of our time when it comes to composition, style, and symbolism. Few of the current crop of directors heralded as "great" - directors like James Cameron, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and David Lynch - can match the overall quality and message of Welles' single most influential film. In a time when films are valued for spectacle over quality, "Citizen Kane" is like a breath of fresh air.

"Citizen Kane" is more than the story of a newspaper magnate's rise and fall; it is a tale of what is ultimately important in a person's life. Despite the vast riches that Kane attains, he is far from happy. He is left with two failed marriages and few friends. At the close of his life, all he has left is his memories - and something called "Rosebud."

Though Kane himself says "I don't think there's one word that can describe a man's life," that is in fact true of his life. "Rosebud" is what mattered to Kane in the end; it was the only thing that he truly wanted. Not in a literal sense, but instead what "Rosebud" stood for; a mystery masterfully concealed until the very end of the film.

It is easy to see why film critics laud "Citizen Kane." It was revolutionary in its own time, a feat that few films can attest to. It's disuse of chronological storytelling and heavy use of frame composition for inferred messages can be compared only to some of director Quentin Tarantino's better efforts, where style is held almost above plot. Welles manages to do even Tarantino one better, elevating style and maintaining and engaging plot at the same time. It's easy to see why "Citizen Kane" gets its praise; I would admit to being one of its admirers.

It's this kind of movie that can give a reviewer a split opinion. On one hand, it's a pretty good movie when it comes to entertainment, but on the other hand the movie has taken tremendous liberties with the details of Custer's life and death.

"They Died with Their Boots On" tells the story of George Armstrong Custer's life as a soldier. Custer starts out at West Point, where he graduates at the bottom of his class. During his time there, Custer meets Libby, his future wife. Though one of his superiors (Major General Taipe) sees Custer as unfit for duty, he is made a general anyway, due in part to the shortage of trained military men during the Civil War.

After his time as a general in that war is over, he marries Libby. Custer becomes restless in civilian life, even to the point of drinking at times. Lieutenant General Winfield Scott, who likes Custer, decides to give him a new job in the 7th Cavalry, a frontier unit assigned to protect settlers moving out west.

It is while he is out west that he meets the Sioux Indian chief Crazy Horse, and makes a promise to him that the Black Hills will be kept free of settlers. Crazy Horse agrees, on the condition that if any settlers enter the area, all the tribes of the region will declare war on the white men. Thanks to a fake gold rush scheme hatched by the now-retired Taipe, settlers flood the area, and Custer rides out to try to weaken the Indians enough that an unsuspecting general will not be destroyed. Thus, Custer and his men die "with their boots on."

Overall, the acting and directing seemed up to the task of creating both likable characters and a sense of Custer's valor, though the villains (such as Taipe) seem like cardboard cutouts, with no believable motivation. Custer (Errol Flynn) seems the archetypical hero, and Libby (Olvia de Havilland) the ideal, devoted wife.

The cinematography appears to be good, although it is impossible to judge completely because the film was shown in fullscreen, as opposed to its original widescreen format. What is visible is well framed, and many shots of the landscapes of the west appear at once desolate and full of life.

Weaker is the screenplay, which offers little dynamism to its characters, which are either wholly good or wholly evil. The only characters given any sort of depth are Custer and a supporting character named California Joe, who transforms from a crusty vagrant into a decent soldier in Custer's regiment.

The facts as presented in the film are not entirely accurate, and in some cases present events in exactly the opposite way as they occurred. For example, the film shows Crazy Horse's group of Indians rounding the top of a hill first, encircling and eventually killing Custer's entire group. In reality, Custer made the first move and attacked an Indian camp along the Little Big Horn River (called by the Indians the Greasygrass River, yet another inaccuracy), only to be slaughtered thanks to the Indians' superior numbers.

The movie's biggest departures from reality concern Custer's military history. As a general in the Civil War, Custer was known for his extreme bravery, even to the point of recklessness. The movie presents this quality as an admirable attribute, owing to Custer's determination. At times Custer refused to bury his dead soldiers, letting them lie where they fell. The movie carefully omits this part in order to paint a rosier picture of General Custer.

As pure entertainment, "They Died with Their Boots On" works well enough, but when it comes to being an accurate reflection of the events leading to Custer's Last Stand, it is far from successful. This movie would be recommended to those in the mood to be entertained, not those seeking historical facts about George Custer's life.