tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48163941225697683592024-02-07T12:33:02.536-08:00Cinema GeekSeveral different horror bloggers come together to discuss a broader range of films and explore what it means to be a geek for cinema.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954838068836802591noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-38709056780087374062011-08-15T22:08:00.000-07:002011-08-15T22:08:40.035-07:00James Bond is InvincibleIt's probably no surprise to anyone here that I'm a big fan of James Bond (even if he is a bit problematic -- especially in the much-beloved Connery films).<br />
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I made this little video for our favorite British super spy for the Club Vivid dance party at Vividcon. I hope you enjoy:<br />
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(the credited vidder is an alias I use in fannish pursuits)<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954838068836802591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-51944153528113596392011-06-12T18:32:00.000-07:002011-06-12T18:32:41.491-07:00Signals From Left Field: Wheels On Meals (1984)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifLQXwx9SLSNBZ_mCThyOxGbNSz3Kej0OrOmPbQnO43gsYTwX4ghNGiEJyLHeNP6Ys9U110QkQq_OmmJ-OG7leINE2-jWMl_HC1XsqyALN4jd8xhTJAyl6D0HHOg_PR4iVdUkD40VyXM/s1600/wheels+on+meals+poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjifLQXwx9SLSNBZ_mCThyOxGbNSz3Kej0OrOmPbQnO43gsYTwX4ghNGiEJyLHeNP6Ys9U110QkQq_OmmJ-OG7leINE2-jWMl_HC1XsqyALN4jd8xhTJAyl6D0HHOg_PR4iVdUkD40VyXM/s1600/wheels+on+meals+poster.jpg" /></a></div><br />
When I was a wee lad, I saw Jackie Chan in 1981's <i>Cannonball Run</i> and immediately became a fan of his infinitely kinetic, often comedic style of martial arts. I'd use my limited resources to see him in other movies, like 1980's <i>The Big Brawl</i>, which I didn't see until the mid-80's. The 90's rolled around, and I somehow got in touch with a VHS rental-by-mail company which predated Netflix by several years. They had a great international catalog, and lo and behold...there was Jackie Chan and a wealth of his films from the 1980's, when he enjoyed a hugely successful run as one of a wonderful action-comedy trio.<br />
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As a child, Chan attended and studied at the Peking Opera, where he met Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao. The three were fast friends in the grueling school, learning among other things, how to use their martial arts and gymnastic prowess to the fullest. They moved on into film, first as extras, then as marquee stars, directors, and choreographers. The 1980's were probably their busiest and most prolific, as they churned out hit after hit. They made films separately, but when they worked together, that was where the box office magic happened.<br />
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Their chemistry was as undeniable as the differences in their styles. Chan was the guy with the moves, and was the lead face in nearly every work they did. Hung was the chubby guy with the incredible comic timing and deceptive quickness. Biao was the smallest and the most acrobatic, using flips and lightning-fast moves. Where they were different in their styles and appearances, the influences were the same: classics like Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin were evident in the trio's mannerisms and stunts. They mixed martial arts with old school slapstick comedy and created a run of wonderfully whimsical movies during the 80's like <i>Project A</i>, <i>Dragons Forever</i>, and the <i>Lucky Stars</i> series.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRCtlKIgoq9z7XAQYxBJeNxbA-9W4wbw1ThskqA5UJWOCXlz7r9FTGNeUxY_dXDdWyTLYsXseo4ZQl-rQ1t3id_m1VSu9YCl58VpPJMl_8FSQCFH-2D7wc8bReDsPwDYSQIDfqPFIdws/s1600/wheels+on+meals+3+guys.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKRCtlKIgoq9z7XAQYxBJeNxbA-9W4wbw1ThskqA5UJWOCXlz7r9FTGNeUxY_dXDdWyTLYsXseo4ZQl-rQ1t3id_m1VSu9YCl58VpPJMl_8FSQCFH-2D7wc8bReDsPwDYSQIDfqPFIdws/s320/wheels+on+meals+3+guys.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
One of the surefire staples of this period was <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087578/"><i>Wheels On Meals</i></a> (aka <i>Kuàicān Chē, Spartan X, </i>and <i>Powerman</i> among other titles), made in 1984 and directed by Hung. It's considered a favorite among classic Hong Kong action film fans not only for its obvious goofiness, but for the thrilling fight scenes, especially the climactic battle between Chan and real-life martial arts champion Benny "The Jet" Urquidez.<br />
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The plot is fairly simple and full of gags. Thomas (Chan) and David (Biao) run a food cart in Barcelona, Spain. During the day, they sell burgers and egg rolls in a popular plaza, and by night, they train in martial arts. The fighting skills come in handy when they have to run off a motorcycle gang terrorizing the plaza. When visiting David's father in a mental hospital, they're smitten by Sylvia (Spanish actress Lola Forner), the daughter of a woman David's dad falls for in the hospital. They run into Sylvia in the city, where she turns out to be a thief, posing as a hooker to rob men. However, there's more to Sylvia than meets the eye. Private detective Moby (Hung) is looking for her, as are some guys with more sinister motives. Seems Sylvia is the long-lost heir to a massive fortune and a local crime boss, Mondale (Pepe Sancho), wants to force her hand over the goods, preferably by marriage.<br />
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After the boys rescue her a couple times, Sylvia joins them, working as a waitress for their food cart. Eventually, Mondale sends his big boys (Urquidez and yet another real-life champion Keith Vitali) after Sylvia and they manage to kidnap her. The good guys can't let this happen, so they stage a daring rescue in Mondale's castle stronghold, taking on his henchmen and engaging in some tremendous martial arts battle, including the one I mentioned between Chan and Urquidez. While that is truly one of the best martial arts battles to grace the screen, you can't take away from the final fight between Biao and Vitali, involving many flips, plush furniture, and a pineapple as a weapon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JRxudghpS2TJxDDUExWp7ZG-O2dPnlVHxQyN49wdw28tGbJNo4px0u-jcnT5f0lELdSHRON0ktfMgJR9cNSvD29ztFGFM08JQ53VV0043TWYW7gFXqB3yo71Ye61COLHuLZv3HrxvFo/s1600/wheels+on+meals+sammo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JRxudghpS2TJxDDUExWp7ZG-O2dPnlVHxQyN49wdw28tGbJNo4px0u-jcnT5f0lELdSHRON0ktfMgJR9cNSvD29ztFGFM08JQ53VV0043TWYW7gFXqB3yo71Ye61COLHuLZv3HrxvFo/s320/wheels+on+meals+sammo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
If you get a hold of this sweet little film, don't be put off by the dubbing. It can be excruciating at times, to be honest, but it's a very small price to pay to watch Chan, Biao, and Hung work their magic. The movies they made brimmed with eternal optimism: we <i>will</i> beat the bad guy and we <i>will </i>win the day. The jokes and gags are light-hearted and hammy. The fights and stunts are breathtaking, and they were an important component of Hong Kong cinema for years. <i>Wheels On Meals</i> exemplifies those qualities and adds the beautiful scenery of Barcelona into the mix. And yes, the draw is the Chan-Urquidez main event, a physical, sometimes brutal, sometimes funny controlled brawl. There are highlights within the highlights, such as Chan's character using positive thinking to change his style, tickling as an offensive weapon, and a kick by Urquidez that literally blows out some candles (which I understand was not a trick). Speaking of chemistry, Chan and Urquidez also battled in the wonderful <i>Dragons Forever</i> and that was a show-stoppers as well. They just work so well as foes.<br />
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If you only know Chan from his <i>Rush Hour</i> movies or more watered-down Hollywood releases, or Hung from his short-lived but fun American TV show <i>Martial Law</i>, then you really should treat yourself to <i>Meals On Wheels</i>, or any one of their 80's heyday movies. They're a blast, and may have you pulling a ligament trying to imitate their moves.<br />
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Not that I speak from experience.<br />
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Now enjoy the amazing final fight scene:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xXVp9938Uq4" width="420"></iframe>Dodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13555228849584962346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-11671705084781013902011-06-06T16:01:00.000-07:002011-06-06T20:32:27.354-07:0052 Perfect Movies: Young Frankenstein (1974)<span style="font-style: italic;">"Are you saying that I put an abnormal brain into a 7 1/2 foot tall, 54-inch wide GORILLA?!"</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPkOEEhpnNP8Rtv1hCnAnPGRj8McinpKgNyQdhzQZPqmNNokmXAiPr4iFivMlvBDn8jHvmcTgog-O-eLavRJMGO9rZJpXy2xcARWEer_e5nnM_SbIUpfmzcgCOQgauoLAbYoulpmfTac/s1600/000264_11.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPkOEEhpnNP8Rtv1hCnAnPGRj8McinpKgNyQdhzQZPqmNNokmXAiPr4iFivMlvBDn8jHvmcTgog-O-eLavRJMGO9rZJpXy2xcARWEer_e5nnM_SbIUpfmzcgCOQgauoLAbYoulpmfTac/s320/000264_11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615314626167544882" border="0" /></a>When one thinks of a "perfect film", it's more often than not a drama that comes to mind. In the course of this series, there are not very many comedies that make the cut, let alone ones as downright zany and farcical as Young Frankenstein. Yet there can be no denying the sheer genius of this, one of the most perfect comic motion pictures ever made. In a career highlighted by some damn funny movies, Mel Brooks truly outdid himself with this, the one he'll always be most remembered for.<br /><br />Sure, there have been others, such as Blazing Saddles and The Producers, that come to mind as comedy classics. But none seem to touch the sublime combination of humor, homage and pathos that this one does. It's very easy to see that Brooks has a deep-seated, genuine affection for the Universal horror flicks he is parodizing here. It is exuded in every moment of screen time, and comes across in every single performance. It is a labor of love, and a joy to behold.<br /><br />It's no wonder that Brooks would repeatedly revisit the formula he started with this film, of spoofing a favorite film genre. It works so well here, that it's only natural to try and recreate it. And while it did work again a few times, it never clicked quite as well as it does here. This is a film so good that it can actually stand amongst the very films to which it is paying tribute.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBtOIXaKHAtI-UaNb0xoRWB9V8i87JeCrS3op1mwSLuL3Lbt8BoFkZvpU6rF1iHh_snYcpTdLOeh1MAiOXWVZp2eLTUyLM7DQ1Gm9OoqPKBNn66mzB7NslbJkEMwDicfKK07prhFZDzrc/s1600/large+young+frankenstein+blu-ray3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBtOIXaKHAtI-UaNb0xoRWB9V8i87JeCrS3op1mwSLuL3Lbt8BoFkZvpU6rF1iHh_snYcpTdLOeh1MAiOXWVZp2eLTUyLM7DQ1Gm9OoqPKBNn66mzB7NslbJkEMwDicfKK07prhFZDzrc/s320/large+young+frankenstein+blu-ray3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615314895047333202" border="0" /></a>Most importantly, it's funny as hell. Mel Brooks has been accused of employing stale humor at times in his movies, but that is never further from the truth than in the work he put into Young Frankenstein. To be fair, a great deal of this can also be attributed to the great Gene Wilder, who conceptualized and co-wrote the project with Brooks. In fact, I'd submit that the movie's genius may be more attributable to Wilder than to Brooks.<br /><br />Not only does Wilder excel as the co-creator, but also as the film's star. In no other film is his natural frenetic energy put to better use--this is a comic performance for the ages. And he's not alone, either, as the movie is rich with brilliant comic performances from the likes of Teri Garr, Gene Hackman, Peter Boyle as the Monster, and of course the late, great Madeline Kahn doing her best old-time movie starlet impression.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BgjSm8kHNiR-zsbqR4FuHhwoXw84EMyg6ZlA9-4eTSCkYFIqcHCXj_NtBjoUMy5UFpwGtRwoeTgeuP7iZwznzhyphenhyphenkYDpvQLnTUhvNibZttnKfy9kUEvmV3hi9uWWtbktOEOEcFSxR7oE/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3BgjSm8kHNiR-zsbqR4FuHhwoXw84EMyg6ZlA9-4eTSCkYFIqcHCXj_NtBjoUMy5UFpwGtRwoeTgeuP7iZwznzhyphenhyphenkYDpvQLnTUhvNibZttnKfy9kUEvmV3hi9uWWtbktOEOEcFSxR7oE/s400/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615315208081624850" border="0" /></a>And then there are Cloris Leachman and Marty Feldman, two masters of comedic timing whose characterizations as Frau Blucher and Eye-Gor add so much to the film. Not to mention Kenneth Mars in a role directly spoofing that of Lionel Atwill in Son of Frankenstein. Together with the infectiously brilliant Wilder in the lead, this troupe of outstanding performers represent one of the finest comedy ensembles ever put together on film.<br /><br />Like the very best parodies, Young Frankenstein bursts with genuine admiration and affection for the source material. It looks and feels like a Universal horror film, and is bursting with references and in-jokes targeted at ardent fans. The hermit scene alone is so memorable that for many, it has actually eclipsed the original scene from Bride of Frankenstein, upon which it was based. That says a lot.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGYlktiVnHdp-WiA3lea772N2n_59GevcrsdU3gfULM4qlXxY2bh_QZiSST7as5-0YObQQD2kd0BkHcJEJNtPIbE0KfF-dsUPhISpts2olpNw3Gz0pl_mA761fkx8mMMEyPjObCC2y-w/s1600/Frankenstein_Junior_scena_4.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGYlktiVnHdp-WiA3lea772N2n_59GevcrsdU3gfULM4qlXxY2bh_QZiSST7as5-0YObQQD2kd0BkHcJEJNtPIbE0KfF-dsUPhISpts2olpNw3Gz0pl_mA761fkx8mMMEyPjObCC2y-w/s400/Frankenstein_Junior_scena_4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615315368567903522" border="0" /></a>There are so many timeless set pieces and gags scattered throughout by the keen comedic minds of Brooks and Wilder. The old "walk this way" routine with Eye-Gor. The doctor's ludicrous medical school presentation. "Abby Normal". Frau Blucher and the neighing horses. And of course, "Puttin' on the Ritz." And yet, even in a comedy as ridiculous as this one, there is room for genuine pathos and gravity, as can be witnessed, for example, in the scene in which Frankenstein and his monster come to an understanding while sharing a jail cell. This is more than just Brooks and his vaudeville schtick. This is comedy on a whole other level.<br /><br />There is a reason why Young Frankenstein stands out from the rest of Mel Brooks' body of work--why the rest of his career was arguably an attempt to equal its greatness. With the help of Gene Wilder, he was able to craft something that has truly stood the test of time as the ultimate love note to a venerable subgenre of film that Brooks, Wilder and so many others hold so dear. Most importantly of all, it is uproariously funny, and a rare comedy that stands up to endless repeated viewings. Call it Frankenstein. Call if Fronkensteen. I call it brilliance.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: The Godfather Part II (1974)</span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-77401617411603353302011-05-12T08:12:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:26:36.909-07:00All About Eve (1950)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfUUkpn1R6duHPWtWhylJSn6Jv-lLCBRHb4GZuJPxTdV8zvQSslK002eG_JdSXAaeABv7d5wwkaVQhRuuxwUUJTWTBEnA0SyAEGbrTUPCdiBN50zY6Mkz6SodqhVnUCTcqF-ChhIbIBo3/s1600/evecover.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605854785201072706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfUUkpn1R6duHPWtWhylJSn6Jv-lLCBRHb4GZuJPxTdV8zvQSslK002eG_JdSXAaeABv7d5wwkaVQhRuuxwUUJTWTBEnA0SyAEGbrTUPCdiBN50zY6Mkz6SodqhVnUCTcqF-ChhIbIBo3/s400/evecover.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Last night I had a powerful moment of regret while watching <em>All About Eve</em> on the big screen. For the first time in a long time, I regretted being so young. It’s funny of course that I should be watching Bette Davis and all of Margot Channing’s reluctant acceptance of her age and rue the fact that I had been born in the 80s and not the 40s. Yet, there I was wishing that before I had seen just about any other movie in my life, I had seen <em>All About Eve</em> first. It goes without saying that this wish is due in part to the fact that <em>All About Eve</em> is a wonderful film but my regret also has to do with the fact that all I can think about while watching it is <em>Showgirls</em>.<br /><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><div><br />These kind of moments happen quite often in my new life as a born again cinephile. I’ll see a classic film that I should have seen years ago and then have that moment of “Ooooh, THAT’S where that’s from”. The depressing thing is that most people my age won’t ever get to take that second step of seeing where the “original” came into the picture. They will instead hear talk of showbiz backstabbing and understudy shenanigans and immediately think of Jessie Spano being naked and licking stripper poles.</div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605853978757207074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWEkevqVQTdALsPT7FrzemjvJGOFHEThn54sPcNEXoGrcYss9Su2IXHaYZADz6T7CNXp109fq4EbWeggQg3c0xmvya63VGkI1EVhOaLDtphd5CVpjupZWKmlA6TCQHduls7dwmcDKOxwI/s400/showgirls.bmp" border="0" /><br />I’m not proud that my mind immediately brings parallels of what is traditionally thought of as the worst movie of all time, but would you believe me if I said that the existence of <em>Showgirls</em> is one of the things that makes me appreciate <em>All About Eve</em> the most?<br /><br /><div><br />It may be "all about Eve", but it's really about the women. In a feat that has still gone unchallenged today, <em>All About Eve</em> is the only film in history to have four of its actresses be nominated for an Oscar. The women in the film are in fact the stars while the men all seem to take supporting roles and remain diligently in the background as important plot devices rather than cold hard characters. The heartless and smarter than he appears Addison Dewitt (George Sanders) comes dangerously close, but ultimately we revel in the even more heartless Eve Harrington.<br /></div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605854312774219922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 278px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBjPOOSnyjkME2D5zK7CQQ-QGlIyusfiSt4leC7yVnicRErDtGyaBMC3YMpKBoND_eFPooRkaJ53WbhVy1YyBA24wt0ebUp4F4LZYAt5Wuwy92kQI7VM9GNr7cm1GiRM9txopmJ6yDoN46/s400/eve2.png" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>The women are scene stealer's in every way possible and it’s refreshing to see this, even as Bette Davis rifles out her monologue about the plight of a woman’s career and the cruel realization that you aren’t a woman until you’re married. In a time when women were considered little more than house wives or secretaries, the women in <em>All About Eve</em> maintain a steady stream of gumption and power. With every martini that Bette Davis drowns and every time time that she says she hates men, I can’t help but do a secret fist pump of glorification. </div><br /><div><br />Bette Davis, who thrives in what is easily her best role, is still capable of making audiences roar with laughter and applause. And indeed she continues to speak the truth to us today, guzzling martinis and pointing out the unfairness of a man’s immunity to aging. It is this particular scene that fills me with an instant revelation of the idea that virtually every movie that tackles this same issue was in part inspired by Bette and her biting witticism. Goldie Hawn immediately comes to mind in <em>The First Wives Club</em>, downing martinis in a bar and lamenting the fact that as she grows older, she will be playing lead character’s mothers while Sean Connery will get to play lead character’s boyfriends. It’s never more apparent than in that scene, that Margot Channing is the mother of all great female characters that we love.<br /><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605853552046785442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkgG2GZwDYBWPAsV93EHHP9JJytmWZbFgo6z7RnWlsC9SkKYD8xYoyAWWK2Dp24SQp-QuWPk3bqIRQeoQkzwIDzM2MhiBGhw3_TdjZx8BbBP16PxJLzVksu1AaToj6uRd9pn2UbyBcHqUa/s400/eve4.jpg" border="0" /><br />And then there’s Eve. Eve, whom until last night I always thought was the naïve hero in <em>All About Eve</em>, magically transforms into a grotesque villain of epic proportions. Her evolution into a monster modeled effortlessly on Margot is thrilling to watch. She may look the part, and talk the part, but we know she lacks the most important piece—Margot’s character and heart. Margot after all manages to have friends despite her diva-like attitude and desire to retain her stardom, which by the film’s end is something we know Eve will never have. </div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><div>The evolution is subtle at first; Eve dresses in clothes similar to Margot, then begins carrying herself differently and it’s not long before we start wondering when Eve will light up her first cigarette in a simultaneous motion of relief and despair. It’s not until the final scene when Eve’s transformation is complete and the torch has passed, that Eve finally inhales her evils and sulks into the sofa. Eve’s charms wear quickly away after those first few scenes and soon I start recalling eerie hints of <em>Single White Female</em> behavior.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>You can spot Eve’s mask a mile away if you pay attention, her breathlessness in her storytelling and the crafty way she bats her eyelashes at just the right moment, prove that she’s been an actress from the start. Eve—so beautiful and so ugly at the same time. We take such pleasure when Addison reveals her true past that we forget she’s still a human... then again—is she?</div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605853704297215154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3F7Tlqso2S_s9tymLW1RQPacZR2OWVQtfQDcNnLrQNCHpG0XXQ-dEfFPAuVbP8xk2Eij_HpG1P5im-Z7G7XqMHOr2p3OuGYpLlCAQzI4zvfl3lM_LndQMT55PrAqOm2A9Oo5CFOryX8g3/s400/eve3.jpg" border="0" /><br />It is indeed in Addison’s reveal that I start drawing the strongest parallel to <em>Showgirls</em>. I can’t help feeling déjà vu as Addison rifles off truth after truth. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been here before, and I have. Kyle Maclachan admitting to Nomi Malone that he knows all about who she really is. And it’s pretty much the same exact scene in <em>All About Eve</em> only trashier and about prostitution. That’s all <em>Showgirls </em>is anyways, a trashier version of <em>All About Eve</em>, yet it still grants me a bigger appreciation for the film. Not like it needs it of course—<em>All About Eve</em> is surely one of the best movies I have seen. Riddled with sharp, biting dialogue and writing, unique shots and scene after scene of brilliance. But it is the shallowness and the carelessness of <em>Showgirls</em> that reminds me of the depth and beauty that resides in <em>All About Eve</em>. A timeless film that continues to remind us what greatness truly is.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605854106762796178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnoV_ZNU5w0NP29iQGa7Lt4DppNrnxNmCPE0tFRpVSmcw3tYGiSUHOt6q2Ebqj9Znd88vSFSGtqZazhESTgR1ypxXe8H_VGt7g0aNC80nUYlxeTM0NvYKrAj7z1Vu_OA-JUVCD_Cc4U7mY/s400/eve1.jpg" border="0" /><br />Oddly enough, the line that best summarizes <em>All About Eve</em> comes from <em>Showgirls</em> after all. Cristal Connors, laying in bed with broken legs after being pushed down the stairs by Nomi Malone grants her one last piece of wisdom, “There’s always someone younger and hungrier coming down the stairs after you”, she says, right before Nomi flees town after beating a man to death while topless-- and damn, was she right. </div></div></div></div>Andrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05429322588091791426noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-86904892260248778272011-04-27T09:45:00.000-07:002011-04-27T12:22:23.581-07:0052 Perfect Movies: The Exorcist (1973)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ81usL0xg5jl9TnwwbdBEAl-x9MP5NzlHBxZx3TeQD2PCguWd7HDA05vteN8U2jz-LMN03PjDc9W0EVIu9uIYsYXNY47Cv-gvGDrFVYRUkGcUF0LUwNqCwWztVZqDXRpvNP0i1kMC-UI/s1600/the-exorcist.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ81usL0xg5jl9TnwwbdBEAl-x9MP5NzlHBxZx3TeQD2PCguWd7HDA05vteN8U2jz-LMN03PjDc9W0EVIu9uIYsYXNY47Cv-gvGDrFVYRUkGcUF0LUwNqCwWztVZqDXRpvNP0i1kMC-UI/s320/the-exorcist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600344627200160354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">"I'm the Devil. Now kindly undo these straps."</span><br /><br />Horror films very often catch a bad rap, particularly from the "mainstream" film community, whatever that even means. The bottom line is, they are often considered no more than dispensible B-movies, the equivalent of pulp novels or comic books. Good for a thrill and a little fun, but then quickly forgotten. Needless to say, there are legions of serious horror fans who can tell you that this generalization is ridiculous, but it's rare that the casual movie-going audience is made to understand that horror can deliver some high-quality work--films that can stay with you not just on the basis of how frightening they are, but simply by virtue of how great they are as cinema.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFliUZQS0bEe7-POw2HJOR27HQ17Ds6rwM44Fp2yjkA7BybdlHzVLohjsQBoP96SlhWpZLsWEZBbd5ZJ4gKcOp2jS-xJq99nF6JKQ2EWqEUWdPNw1wQTMcZd03arlSqx2nkK3HNc0sbg/s1600/the-exorcist_288x288.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFliUZQS0bEe7-POw2HJOR27HQ17Ds6rwM44Fp2yjkA7BybdlHzVLohjsQBoP96SlhWpZLsWEZBbd5ZJ4gKcOp2jS-xJq99nF6JKQ2EWqEUWdPNw1wQTMcZd03arlSqx2nkK3HNc0sbg/s320/the-exorcist_288x288.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600344849654991522" border="0" /></a>The Exorcist was one of the first films of the modern era to really do this, to cross over into the mainstream consciousness and be recognized as a fine piece of film-making in its own right. To a certain extent, Rosemary's Baby had paved the way a few years before, but The Exorcist is far and away the superior film, and it forced critics and audiences alike to rethink their stereotyped opinions of horror in general.<br /><br />Nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, The Exorcist is the work of William Friedkin, one of the geniuses who led the way during the formation of the new, auteur-driven Hollywood in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Just the fact that he had agreed to helm the picture gave it instant credibility, and the talent he brought to the table helped transform William Peter Blatty's potboiler novel into one of the most important pieces of 1970s cinema.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2Nkpe_V7kFt94vxCJkHrrwCejyCQfTE4AghnY8ihNFMAF5VC8tZllkY7WcxalTiqjthOt8HDa34xfaf6UsULH3pMlT-KL2uxW4PlFizke1N6LsSFJnTG_Hg8py1efA6gRWJbpGwvoQ8/s1600/the-exorcist1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2Nkpe_V7kFt94vxCJkHrrwCejyCQfTE4AghnY8ihNFMAF5VC8tZllkY7WcxalTiqjthOt8HDa34xfaf6UsULH3pMlT-KL2uxW4PlFizke1N6LsSFJnTG_Hg8py1efA6gRWJbpGwvoQ8/s320/the-exorcist1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600345166638669634" border="0" /></a>The Exorcist is not only a superbly made film, but it also succeeds as horror because it is supremely scary. Granted, such a quality is largely subjective, but the fact remains that The Exorcist is more often than not the film that gets mentioned whenever anyone is trying to determine "the scariest movie ever made." It may not be so for everyone, but just the fact that it works so well as a horror movie while also being such a flawless piece of cinema is quite an impressive achievement.<br /><br />During an era when realism in film was being stressed, The Exorcist was a bit of an anomaly. But, interestingly enough, it works exactly because it brings that realist aesthetic to the material. It should also not be forgotten that it remains the highest-grossing horror film ever made. So here you have a motion picture that was a rousing success financially, reached the high watermark of its genre, and also is recognized as one of the finest films ever made. Not a bad trifecta at all for a movie about a little girl possessed by the Devil.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwi04_vWZWJlv_AX_jimjFnHMvdOgFcbN8D2PXm_F-EvrZs54LNtVGszsCWQNYSE3_EZk8VW1AOG_kEPYpcouh1Ua9YwnLDdr5B1te-v0pH8_QaSJHoVzZH0OZp5eJuw41WQ8RCG0H84/s1600/The_Exorcist.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwi04_vWZWJlv_AX_jimjFnHMvdOgFcbN8D2PXm_F-EvrZs54LNtVGszsCWQNYSE3_EZk8VW1AOG_kEPYpcouh1Ua9YwnLDdr5B1te-v0pH8_QaSJHoVzZH0OZp5eJuw41WQ8RCG0H84/s320/The_Exorcist.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600345382307205906" border="0" /></a>As with all great films, what makes The Exorcist work in the end is the script, and the performances. And as with most films that surpass the novels on which they were based, the screenplay, adapted by Blatty, improves upon the original novel, delivering characters who live and breath and make us care very deeply for them. Father Karras and Regan MacNeil in particular, along with Regan's put-upon mother Chris, are all realized in startling fashion. These are real people in the real world, faced with very real struggles, despite the bizarre, over-the-top form which these struggles take.<br /><br />A teenaged Linda Blair really makes us feel for the plight of Regan, the pure, virginal young girl who is so viciously and cruelly taken over by the demon (voiced in a highly effective fashion by Mercedes McCambridge). Set up in the beginning the way she is, it is truly tragic to watch her spiral into chaos, and to see the wholesome relationship with her mother so thoroughly devastated. And speaking of her mother, Ellen Burstyn makes the most of the best role of her career here, communicating all the desperation of a helpless mother faced with an unthinkable threat to her child about which she can do nothing.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0rap6xc2sQkmugrY7tyPWY6FXyu8AKt_BnIl2HxSNF2iPajXbJjbreXY2Um-ttVYBnlx51-NN2vDBpfrDCJUMN7af6a4S6cU20K1ncPTzchzrgg6sXNaUkCEWgsxA92mfmUzoSqguQ3E/s1600/3hr2szymutkhyzur.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0rap6xc2sQkmugrY7tyPWY6FXyu8AKt_BnIl2HxSNF2iPajXbJjbreXY2Um-ttVYBnlx51-NN2vDBpfrDCJUMN7af6a4S6cU20K1ncPTzchzrgg6sXNaUkCEWgsxA92mfmUzoSqguQ3E/s320/3hr2szymutkhyzur.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600345686172836530" border="0" /></a>But this movie truly belongs to Jason Miller, whose agnostic Father Karras represents the moral center of the entire narrative, and the character with whom viewers are invited to identify. He is the everyman forced to find his inner strength and redeem himself in order to defend good from evil. Miller's performance is so powerful, in fact, that it completely overshadows that of the very capable Max Von Sydow, who actually plays the titular exorcist, Father Merrin. Also memorable in a supporting role is the great Lee J. Cobb as Lt. William Kinderman.<br /><br />The Exorcist still very much has the power to frighten on a very visceral, intellectual level. More than just shock value, the terror on display here is deep and profound, stemming from real spiritual concerns. And even though most do not really believe in the Devil or demonic possession, the notion of outside evil penetrating our world, and profaning that which is pure and pristine, is something that tends to touch us on a gut level, tapping into our primal fear of the unknown. This is a horror film in the truest sense of the term, and accomplishes that which few horror films ever really do--it fills us with absolute dread.<br /><br />The Exorcist forever changed the horror genre in cinema, and was a part of a bold, innovative era in moviemaking which we haven't seen the like of since. There are those who snicker at its dire religious themes, who try to laugh off the deep-seated anxiety this film provokes. If anything, their nervous dismissals only serve to further establish the film's raw power. This is a movie that needs to be revisited by those who know it more as a cultural touchstone than an actual movie. It is only then that its impressive power is truly revealed.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: Young Frankenstein (1974)</span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-38945058503562496892011-04-13T21:59:00.001-07:002011-04-13T22:53:18.481-07:0052 Perfect Movies: The Godfather (1972)<span style="font-style: italic;">"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse..."</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigWJax6C2FBU9Q6gEWZoZ0c15fjg3FcVxoS23mLWlSuSqiC8f095TgrgRVWsN0xKSCwOxvFOgbIJ4hYhVBp8QlKtvAUgc1Dk0a7SZhxkNL12qc4zrRLtxIj6ZhOaR0Toj0L3k1SltiBU/s1600/gangster-movies-the-godfather-brando.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigWJax6C2FBU9Q6gEWZoZ0c15fjg3FcVxoS23mLWlSuSqiC8f095TgrgRVWsN0xKSCwOxvFOgbIJ4hYhVBp8QlKtvAUgc1Dk0a7SZhxkNL12qc4zrRLtxIj6ZhOaR0Toj0L3k1SltiBU/s320/gangster-movies-the-godfather-brando.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595310060954445538" border="0" /></a>Well, here we are. A while back, I committed myself to this series on what I consider to be absolutely perfect motion pictures...and as far as I'm concerned, we are at the epicenter of that list. Because Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather is not just any perfect film--it is <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> perfect film. Even amongst screen masterpieces, it stands head and shoulders above the pack, as what may very well be the ultimate expression of filmmaking yet seen.<br /><br />In my humble opinion, and the opinion of countless others, The Godfather is the greatest motion picture ever made. It is the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; it is Mozart's Requiem; it is King Lear. Filmmaking may be a flawed art compromised to a certain by being a form of popular entertainment first and foremost--but all that aside, it can be safely said that it literally gets no better than this.<br /><br />Do I even have to sell you on why The Godfather deserves such praise? The epic story of one family's corruption of the American dream and of the shocking effects of unbridled power, it is a work of sublime beauty, startling violence and technical mastery, all rolled into one transcendent viewing experience. In simple terms, it is the type of film which, once it is discovered while changing TV channels (usually when one gets to AMC), must be watched for the remainder of its running time.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkhV5vF852CmEs6cg6McNNpvy8hBGRwRP2dth3RrtsB1qqunQ0VvQtxAE4ufzBRFfl7sqVdNj6R9euiv8y_gDRc3-Cmez4-Z1i7WcsndadtmvggTU15qiK6_9tNbLC7PNhMCi9-_7Y60/s1600/the-godfather-mafia-movie.png"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHkhV5vF852CmEs6cg6McNNpvy8hBGRwRP2dth3RrtsB1qqunQ0VvQtxAE4ufzBRFfl7sqVdNj6R9euiv8y_gDRc3-Cmez4-Z1i7WcsndadtmvggTU15qiK6_9tNbLC7PNhMCi9-_7Y60/s320/the-godfather-mafia-movie.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595310343603961442" border="0" /></a>Mario Puzo's novel is lifted by the once-impeccably gifted hands of Coppola to heights I would dare say even the author himself had never dreamed. With his accomplice in genius, the legendary cinematographer Gordon Willis behind the camera, Coppola approaches the material with a singularity of vision that is all but unparalleled in American cinema. This is Greek tragedy transformed into pop culture. This is that great, hardly attainable feat: entertainment both fit for mainstream consumption, and masterful enough to become high art in the truest sense.<br /><br />With a cast of characters highlighted by career-defining performances from the likes of Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan and Robert Duvall, it is the kind of film in which plot is secondary, and character comes first. And for my money, that's really where it's at, and the true test of whether or not a piece of narrative will stand the test of time. It is also why lovers of the film (is there anyone who doesn't?) can watch it and rewatch it, gaining more pleasure from it every time.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwf7m5lEcPY_kZliAaTkfB7F7qLuX4sulAtTxIS-MByJsXCNlLR5A_GsEwYAFvY6Pmy7JbtLqSB8ReM5B5zpMI7kqk45-wbAIFTOCy4QT10auUc15_fzU2IQQ42DFUvuDAyTQKauWwxE/s1600/gfhat1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwf7m5lEcPY_kZliAaTkfB7F7qLuX4sulAtTxIS-MByJsXCNlLR5A_GsEwYAFvY6Pmy7JbtLqSB8ReM5B5zpMI7kqk45-wbAIFTOCy4QT10auUc15_fzU2IQQ42DFUvuDAyTQKauWwxE/s320/gfhat1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595310799616378242" border="0" /></a>Brando brings a complicated pathos to the role of Don Vito Corleone that is dismissed as a caricature only by the most cynical of moviegoers. Rather, the Don as played by Brando is a man desperately trying to hold his family together with the good intentions that he doesn't realize will always pave the road to hell. His son Michael (Pacino) is the moral center and narrative lynch-pin of the film; as we watch his descent from squeaky-clean war hero to cold and calculating mob boss, we can't help but feel we are witnessing a fall from grace as timeless as any depicted in fiction since the dawn of civilization.<br /><br />Duvall deserves so much more credit than he ever gets for a restrained yet brilliant performance as consigliere Tom Hagen, an adopted son to the Don who in many ways would've made the best don himself, were he not a non-Italian. And then there is Caan, so utterly perfect as the hot-blooded Sonny Corleone that he has been recognized over the years by numerous Italian-American organizations, despite not actually being Italian in real life. Add to this unforgettable performances from the likes of John Cazale (Fredo), Talia Shire (Connie), Lenny Montana (Luca Brasi), Diane Keaton (Kay) and many more, and you have a veritable smorgasbord of gifted actors doing their finest work.<br /><br />Nino Rota's brilliant and iconic score needs no introduction, and almost no justification for how powerful, moving and completely gorgeous it is, not to mention entirely crucial to the impact the movie makes on the viewer. This is film music of the highest order, lending an air of larger-than-life tragedy and gravity that compliments Puzo, Coppola and Willis' work with a level of perfection seldom, if ever achieved. Just a note or two of the score, whether it be the Main Title, Sicilian Pastorale, or Halls of Hear theme, can conjure up instant emotional reactions.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTmMnWjRk8Zep_5IxgpzkfqG1vq6NfWY-ME9gLzHr3K2HRTJzzYiCYGBPsvhvFFNZYtU5TA3oH6kLoIrSPp0PfGQu9w-jZ6xR79JwB0IXLK4GNHyXQpXPjFJ9islunXKPgYpLwG5_j_k/s1600/the-godfather.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTmMnWjRk8Zep_5IxgpzkfqG1vq6NfWY-ME9gLzHr3K2HRTJzzYiCYGBPsvhvFFNZYtU5TA3oH6kLoIrSPp0PfGQu9w-jZ6xR79JwB0IXLK4GNHyXQpXPjFJ9islunXKPgYpLwG5_j_k/s320/the-godfather.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595311137885621490" border="0" /></a>Much more than a simple gangster film, The Godfather is Americana itself--the tale of the immigrant and his place in the nation, of the bonds of family and how they can be warped to serve greed and aggression. It challenges our notions of good and evil, often drawing criticism, in fact, for the way it arguably glorifies the world it portrays and glamorizes the actions of those who live in it. However, when watching the film, one cannot help but be lost in this glorification, whether it be morally sound or not.<br /><br />It is a testament to the power of the work that even though it paints for us the picture of a man twisted and transformed by the effects of power, we cannot help but marvel at the beauty of it all. Is this irresponsible? Is it cynical? I propose that it is neither--rather, it is art. Plain and simple. Take it for what it is. As for me, I choose to take it as the most thoroughly realized piece of storytelling ever put to celluloid.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVFzlBBA9YUZ2qAEkH_G8CRf2I4ro8A6dEFBTCHWNRl_54zbHxn25EbFDBcymg0un9K454NQl2i3YfzteAUKrkPQB6GgeenTpvjbfTL0j5AUix5RZP0bsT8gjyspg9_pHQ1_e1Ul6Nys/s1600/godfather1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVFzlBBA9YUZ2qAEkH_G8CRf2I4ro8A6dEFBTCHWNRl_54zbHxn25EbFDBcymg0un9K454NQl2i3YfzteAUKrkPQB6GgeenTpvjbfTL0j5AUix5RZP0bsT8gjyspg9_pHQ1_e1Ul6Nys/s320/godfather1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595313224023479522" border="0" /></a>Francis Ford Coppola never again reached the heights of The Godfather, unless it was arguably with his almost-nearly-as-perfect sequel two years later. But that isn't a slight against Coppola--after all, no filmmaker ever has quite reached the heights of The Godfather. "I believe in America" is the fitting first line of the film, uttered by Bonasera in the Don's study on his daughter's wedding day. For this is a tale of America first and foremost, for good or ill, warts and all--it holds a mirror up to us. And having basked in the majesty of The Godfather, the jewel of American filmmaking, I must say that I believe in it as well.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: The Exorcist (1973)</span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-80965339851987564632011-03-14T20:30:00.000-07:002011-03-14T21:51:52.902-07:00A Few Words on Cinematic Titanic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwLNw6qp-znGlhODuQIwW0T0aPoGaBw1LIs-FZlUXdFlqBvuCgvAqDlFrHfLyugOiZM7Uns54lLldUG_4OCqbTJZTegU2kMCWCmMfhqkwTXc7KiEa6dXOZDufGeYEDNm7WCaV-5w5EsEZ/s1600/cinematic-titanic-pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwLNw6qp-znGlhODuQIwW0T0aPoGaBw1LIs-FZlUXdFlqBvuCgvAqDlFrHfLyugOiZM7Uns54lLldUG_4OCqbTJZTegU2kMCWCmMfhqkwTXc7KiEa6dXOZDufGeYEDNm7WCaV-5w5EsEZ/s320/cinematic-titanic-pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I was back in Phoenix this weekend to join the family (mother, mother's husband, sister, sister-in-law, sister's mother-in-law) for one of the most delightful stage experiences I've had in a long time: Cinematic Titanic Live.<br />
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What is <a href="http://www.cinematictitanic.com/">Cinematic Titanic</a>? Well, it's one of two continuations of the brilliant cable series <i>Mystery Science Theater 3000 </i>(the other is Mike Nelson's Rifftrax). Cinematic Titanic takes five members of the MST3K cast -- creator Joel Hodgson, Trace Beaulieu, J. Elvis Weinstein, Frank Conniff, and Mary Jo Pehl -- and has them "riff" on bad movies. On their non-live DVDs, the group perform in silhouette, much as Joel and the 'bots did on MST3K. I've been a fan of MST3K since before I was a pre-teen and I continue to be a fan of its offspring projects, but especially Cinematic Titanic.<br />
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Let me say this: seeing this group on DVD is nothing compared to seeing them live. It's not just that the immediacy of the performance allowed for on-the-fly riffs both topical (re: the Wisconsin union labor crisis) and localized (re: a bunch of stuff, but most memorably John McCain). It's that good ol' fashioned live show energy, the great feedback of give and take. At one point, and my memory is fuzzy so I might get this wrong, a character in the movie (<i>Rattlers</i>, if anyone is interested) said something like, "There are better ways to die" and Weinstein riffed "Sure! Just ask David Carradine." There was a smattering of uncomfortable laughter and he shot back "Uh, Michael Hutchence, then?" The line firmly recrossed, the audience was back with him and the riffing could go on.<br />
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The previous paragraph demonstrates something painfully true: live comedy retold is almost always retold badly. Even with an eidetic memory (which I'm nowhere close to having) and a beat-by-beat breakdown, I would fail to pass along what a great time I had.<br />
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I can say that there were moments of failure, mostly in the pre-riffing warmup acts. Conniff's standup was painfully unfunny and labored and Hodgson's very welcome performance of the KTMA-era MST3K theme song was marred a bit when he forgot some of the lyrics (but then again, I should give the guy a break: that version of the song is over 20 years old). I will say this, though, J. Elvis Weinstein's Elvis Costello impersonation while performing "Watching the Detectives" was uncanny and warmup act Dave (Gruber) Allen was hilarious.<br />
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The movie itself was appropriately awful; I can say this in full confidence because I'd actually seen it without benefit of comedic accompaniment. If Cinematic Titanic releases a DVD of their <i>Rattlers</i> performance any time soon, I'd recommend picking it up. It's a film just bad enough to make for good riffing fodder, but not so bad that it's dead boring.<br />
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Mostly this post is to direct people, out of a sheer sense of community service, to <a href="http://www.cinematictitanic.com/">the Cinematic Titanic website</a> to either find a show coming to their area or to buy a DVD. This is a project that the folks involved are doing simply for the love of the game and it deserves as much support as possible.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954838068836802591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-56777453526245989842011-03-03T22:52:00.000-08:002011-03-12T08:40:37.225-08:0052 Perfect Movies: Once Upon a Time in the West (1969)<div></div><span style="font-style: italic;">"How can you trust a man who wears both a belt and suspenders? The man can't even trust his own pants..."</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKVPFqAwNBqPDIwx3FyJ0O4DvfkR1QYTW3frrhReGH555M3sGHFjHse7lMTKmGlDLR8XNx5UKS66jI0EHOM7j4YhAV0gYjCrDX0-trtfiEo3Z-JhqZheeIBpCqhEZed2IvHgE17mcj0s/s1600/1250105460_once-upon-a-time-in-the-west_1.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKVPFqAwNBqPDIwx3FyJ0O4DvfkR1QYTW3frrhReGH555M3sGHFjHse7lMTKmGlDLR8XNx5UKS66jI0EHOM7j4YhAV0gYjCrDX0-trtfiEo3Z-JhqZheeIBpCqhEZed2IvHgE17mcj0s/s320/1250105460_once-upon-a-time-in-the-west_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583232862259921522" border="0" /></a>Upon first viewing Sergio Leone's masterpiece, <a href="http://cinema-geek.blogspot.com/2010/08/52-perfect-movies-good-bad-and-ugly.html">The Good, the Bad and the Ugly</a>, I couldn't help but think to myself, "This is the epitome of the western. It can get no better than this." Leone's unique, European-tinted vision of the American West was so fascinatingly realized that I couldn't imagine it ever being surpassed. And it is perhaps the greatest testament to Leone's genius that he did actually surpass it--although that may be open to argument.<br /><br />For as sublime and transcendent as The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is, I am now of the opinion that Leone actually outdid himself just a couple of years later with that magnum opus of the spaghetti western, Once Upon a Time in the West. For whatever reason, it gets a lot less attention than its predecessor (perhaps owing to the lack of Clint Eastwood), and it deserves a lot more recognition. TGTBATU may be quite the tough act to follow, but it is my opinion that Once Upon a Time in the West not only follows it with style, but actually overshadows it in terms of quality.<br /><br />Ennio Morricone's score is just as iconic, if not more so, washing over the film and commanding the viewer's attention. It literally merges with the narrative in a way that happens in very few films. Whether it's Frank's jaw-dropping theme of villainy, the happy-go-lucky Cheyenne motif, or the unforgettable Harmonica riff, this is movie music at its finest. It may not have produced the big hit that TGTBATU main theme became, but no matter. This is music worth listening to and savoring, even without the accompanying images.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-GmVwNvMMhIBX2dTZ6kmwkykO4zXwpjkyNbsbKElJMSgxgMqw3K9LJ-ylTQ2WktRgdEbaFG-MM5l6POs5iZgP3agLxj59v2HXrdzvnaxnoeuIWsgg_n5hh4NLHK74Vlc5-eza6RrTwQ/s1600/once-upon-a-time-in-the-west1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-GmVwNvMMhIBX2dTZ6kmwkykO4zXwpjkyNbsbKElJMSgxgMqw3K9LJ-ylTQ2WktRgdEbaFG-MM5l6POs5iZgP3agLxj59v2HXrdzvnaxnoeuIWsgg_n5hh4NLHK74Vlc5-eza6RrTwQ/s320/once-upon-a-time-in-the-west1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583233079570630946" border="0" /></a>Joined with the images, we get a visual feast realized in a way few films ever are. Leone's brilliant cinematographer, Tonino Delli Colli, who had previously outdone himself on TGTBATU, once again triumphs, with spellbinding shot after spellbinding shot. For those who thought John Ford was the high watermark of the Western, this is material to give one pause and force a reconsideration. So many of these shots have been mimiced so many times by inferior filmmakers that it's easy for their power to be lost. But this is the kind of movie that requires viewer sto strip all preconceived notions and thoroughly immerse themselves in the experience.<br /><br />Charles Bronson is no Eastwood, but the majesty and quiet, almost native nobility he brings to the role of Harmonica thoroughly grounds the film. He is truly a classic Western hero, and one only wonders what would have happened if Clint had actually accepted the role, as Leone wanted him to. I happen to believe, that as great as Eastwood was, Once Upon a Time in the West benefits from the new blood. Eastwood's Man With No Name had run its course.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnzFbfbMw6kjW4LYJ9Sk0qFW-begYi2E2tPUFH3rv_bFu5JgVbMTa8k9OZpUmnUHHF7vZ-fmSPvkxnjqt2B6Lc0pgGGsK2TYtgsOHpJFKycp6ce7ZzxCt-lCjP9QBg6jQXibeGWo6Xwc/s1600/once_upon_a_time_in_the_westharmonica.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlnzFbfbMw6kjW4LYJ9Sk0qFW-begYi2E2tPUFH3rv_bFu5JgVbMTa8k9OZpUmnUHHF7vZ-fmSPvkxnjqt2B6Lc0pgGGsK2TYtgsOHpJFKycp6ce7ZzxCt-lCjP9QBg6jQXibeGWo6Xwc/s320/once_upon_a_time_in_the_westharmonica.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583233314305913810" border="0" /></a>Then we have Henry Fonda, whom Leone specifically chose in order to achieve the jarring juxtaposition of having one of cinema's most beloved figures playing a deeply evil, despicable character. In an interview once, Leone stated clearly that when Fonda's blue-eyed visage first appears on screen, staring down a little boy he's about to murder, he wanted his audience to mutter to themselves, "Holy shit! That's Henry Fonda!" And that was indeed my reaction, having been so trained to believe in the <a href="http://cinema-geek.blogspot.com/2010/06/52-perfect-movies-12-angry-men-1957.html">pathos of Fonda's screen presence</a>. Nevertheless, he manages to turn Frank into one of the most enjoyable screen baddies of all time.<br /><br />Jason Robards excels as the very memorable Cheyenne, an amoral outlaw with a heart of gold who gets caught in the middle of the epic conflict. The gorgeous Claudia Cardinale is far more than just eye candy, once again adding a unique Mediterranean flavor to one of the Western's most tried and true tropes, that of the beautiful widow with a coveted inheritance. Together, the film's four leads form an ensemble which, for my money, is more effective than that of any Leone western.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lpa0oRayZhwJL-b2aemFrVBQYTeRiG_9-WYNEG7Yqm6xbRdSRdgOUPwkZtt1ISO1xfHe-VsS21M2fBiujpc7p3V6nDCg8uvc0UE8U3MfCM4pbWh95YG8EGrwowUsVJ3SZrlnfOtponw/s1600/onceuponwest7.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lpa0oRayZhwJL-b2aemFrVBQYTeRiG_9-WYNEG7Yqm6xbRdSRdgOUPwkZtt1ISO1xfHe-VsS21M2fBiujpc7p3V6nDCg8uvc0UE8U3MfCM4pbWh95YG8EGrwowUsVJ3SZrlnfOtponw/s320/onceuponwest7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583233578383971234" border="0" /></a>To watch Once Upon a Time in the West is to experience all that the cinematic medium is capable of, in pure, distilled form. The script, spare as always in dialogue, nevertheless crackles along with kinetic energy, and boasts one of the single most gripping opening scenes in movie history--with barely a single word uttered. This is the kind of scene that film students should be required to watch in order to understand the power that can be achieved without having to rely primarily on language. Leone and his collaborators understand that they are working in the genre of another country and language, and so choose--very effectively--to work visually, first and foremost. And we get to enjoy the fruits of that effort, which is one of the great pleasures of film.<br /><br />It's almost as if Leone had learned so much about making Westerns via his previous trilogy, which began with A Fistful of Dollars and For a Few Dollars More, that he felt the need to put all of those lessons to their best use by making one massive, stand-alone film that would synthesize everything good about the previous three, and take it to whole other level of greatness. And that is what he does, transforming the American West into a mythic place beyond any historical reality.<br /><br />There are those who will always prefer The Good, The Bad and the Ugly to Once Upon a Time in the West. The former is certainly the more well-known. But I will contend that most who have actually seen and digested both of those films will side with me that the later, more underrated of the two is actually superior. I invite those who may not have seen Once Upon a Time in the West to give it a chance and decide for themselves.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc26BlXFP2z1tWY5YYB8ZWgEqLwC75n0GSA1VfHZRXYIcxG-T-PvSVyLqj1y3Eg9TPg0a45ZxKrsqwgy_ETRsrl2M4uNboM5NPHQWXuyZTEb6Ci-HjLO17wcdeWsOfMMLUtnnWppX7Zxc/s1600/2814495683a64523bb946b15baa10f29cc7b5ca.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc26BlXFP2z1tWY5YYB8ZWgEqLwC75n0GSA1VfHZRXYIcxG-T-PvSVyLqj1y3Eg9TPg0a45ZxKrsqwgy_ETRsrl2M4uNboM5NPHQWXuyZTEb6Ci-HjLO17wcdeWsOfMMLUtnnWppX7Zxc/s320/2814495683a64523bb946b15baa10f29cc7b5ca.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583234004174725650" border="0" /></a>The Western is, in many ways, the ultimate expression of American moviemaking, and it's quite ironic that it's greatest examples have come not from America itself, but from Italy. With an objective eye that came not from within the nation itself, but rather from an entirely different milieu, Sergio Leone was able to elevate the Western into something previously unimaginable. It's very fitting that the film's title seems like something out of a fairy tale--for Once Upon a Time in the West is more than just a period film. It is quite literally history transformed into legend. It is majestic; it is archetypal; it is absolutely glorious.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: The Godfather (1972)</span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-84054453137091913862011-01-19T11:40:00.000-08:002011-01-19T14:57:04.988-08:00Friday Night Films: Naked Lunch (1991)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnCPJix8UUsIRa_RSWT80YM-_8WYK67OZDKkOnQgOtdBEj1ulokn901HKeZ_yrhQaYduRoTvMtWrzSckGpkK485nMtSGiHuDJDUjauD2t1c8p9igMZIaNzV584uBV8wgeGZu-EKUfwdrZ/s1600/nakedlunch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 355px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnCPJix8UUsIRa_RSWT80YM-_8WYK67OZDKkOnQgOtdBEj1ulokn901HKeZ_yrhQaYduRoTvMtWrzSckGpkK485nMtSGiHuDJDUjauD2t1c8p9igMZIaNzV584uBV8wgeGZu-EKUfwdrZ/s400/nakedlunch.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034543778162626" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69harGAGjUy1iDNHTCRUd3cYfdOALfRuebOD9t33tQHRiTGoa87zaHW7ylHTKTIITG18HiILPaZAwWAtyYAlrSZMWUwGO5hCBwxsGJqplKa34HCePcxBvX02zaHqr78jrGbO8p6M7XO5Z/s1600/ishot-2889.jpg"></a><div>For some reason as of yet unknown, I decided recently that it would be a good idea to read William S. Burroughs' <em>Naked Lunch.</em> I had previously read all about Cronenberg's adaption in <em>Cronenberg on Cronenberg</em> and was instantly drawn to it. Clearly I was enticed by a book that could possibly feature a drug addict's stream of consciousness and giant bugs. Well let me tell you something. If anyone tells you that it's a good idea to read <em>Naked Lunch</em>--kick them. <em>Naked Lunch</em> may in fact be the craziest thing you will ever try to read. Nothing makes sense, nothing is linear, and it's barely readable. If you don't know already, this is the book William S. Burroughs wrote while he was in a state of constant high thanks to some crazy Moroccan drugs. Yeah. </div><br /><div>After about 30 pages I gave up and moved onto Cronenberg's take on the story. Cronenberg's film is actually less of an adaption of the book and more of an interpretation. He used real incidents from Burrough's life, kept some of the same names and places and the film became the story of how Burrough's came to write <em>Naked Lunch</em>. </div><br /><div>Now, I want to make it very clear that I know Cronenberg. I'm used to his style, and his constant need to include something that resembles a penis in anyway that he can.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF_NhehboOrMkQK_birYGBYyyL3VLg2TdnzrMoAvpYSBgg02dXuITSKwDa1mKKmoOznw4b-YWU8wKbVABmawRpJ4cu24q01YrpMNC3v_mgdeWLU9eLfKlYS6CgjSUEavYuwU2NTW1p7PM-/s400/ishot-2882.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033392850902290" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 227px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm used to his themes of blending the physical with the psychological, and how he often intertwines the two as though they were one. I'm used to the overtly gooey style of blood and guts and I'm used to how amazing yet utterly mind numbing and weird his films can be. That being said, Cronenberg's <em>Naked Lunch</em> is the strangest movie I have ever seen.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PVIgYhlqiiKko7HzYz329KLlUHgoLWmdXgZxaqfUQ62uKFDYq97HHv1dn8QMK_Gx4swdmrOgUAFt7gh7oW8sgZWjnH6h-7eg8i5BsuiL0gA_lOa9ovOUbD9jGnaR562GSD-u6Pfi3HEL/s400/ishot-2888.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034398998804114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 231px; " /></span></div><br /><div>Watching <i>Naked Lunch</i> is basically a film that you just have to watch. By that I mean, you really can't think too much while you're watching it or you'll get incredibly frustrated. Don't try to make sense of why typewriters are suddenly changing into giant beetles. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXP1rvJxk6frJ4hZp_FJtipuU5-Gj8b7qniJcHvsxiNmaA1rDf8b2u5ngU10gtZMg2oAYCHM5qR4E2G7eUP60b2WyGCKW6RKXsSLNu02Zy2qlI2TzyVozzs61PjzfuTalCWPAslOyo2c2u/s400/ishot-2864.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033686839283730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 220px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Don't try to come up with a sane approach as to why the type writer bugs have ginormous penis' and definitely do not try to make any big conclusions about drug use and its effects on the writer. Just relax, and take it all in on a visual level. Worry about the deep meanings later....MAYBE. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEDVp2JVOi7builM_RD9xQFe4KXyXNfDFik__ibkRp6GDbrJIXGQ8RamTyxN22F6h-gBdK3o6Npdw0yNB2XfAqbTCeek7Zl_QK3VRYO9HU98iqHFnj3QtrnrkeDb0HdD7iNnTFUWO7gAA/s400/ishot-2887.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034275238386354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 224px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the thing about <i>Naked Lunch</i>---I have no idea what the hell it means and I don't really plan on ever finding out. I would rather just sit and marvel at how completely outrageous the whole thing is. <i>Naked Lunch</i> is one of those films that oddly knocks you back into reality. It reminds you that you are NOT as smart as you think, and that no matter how hard you try--you will never be able to make a film quite like this. That's what always throws me off about Cronenberg. He isn't one of those directors that make seemingly genius films yet refuse to tell anybody what they really mean (cough David Lynch). Cronenberg however knows exactly what his films mean and he explains it and this is the best part---it makes sense! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsUinndXgdlk91zfhZrMOi8lCWK5QWaukT3YFCbDe3AyPK0OTyxtPTNtjQ74pIE9YxVIemm0xrhWVV8sdW7wucNEvdBbOlJYPNnB-w0WwAIMsjYszA5V3KscG9P4E2DiC2jWGtqHttTSE7/s400/ishot-2885.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034168445591378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 238px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>To be honest, I'm not at all interested in what the true meaning of <i>Naked Lunch</i> is. I'm much more interested in seeing the way that David Cronenberg processed the book into a logical movie (well, logical as in it does have somewhat of a plot). I can't even fathom taking a book like <i>Naked Lunch</i> and converting it into a readable screenplay. And then to see what he did with it---how he took real elements from Burrough's life and somehow involved all these giants insects and penis' and men hiding in woman's skin--</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69harGAGjUy1iDNHTCRUd3cYfdOALfRuebOD9t33tQHRiTGoa87zaHW7ylHTKTIITG18HiILPaZAwWAtyYAlrSZMWUwGO5hCBwxsGJqplKa34HCePcxBvX02zaHqr78jrGbO8p6M7XO5Z/s400/ishot-2889.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564033100341691298" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 239px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>it's kind of mind blowing. As if the very concept and idea of <i>Naked Lunch</i> wasn't mind blowing enough...David had to once again blow us away with his creativity and intelligence. </div><div><br /></div><div>So what if we may never know what it means? What's so wrong about just watching a film and not trying to dissect it? If there was ever a movie that stood for "Not giving a fuck"--<i>Naked Lunch</i> would be it. Yes, it's probably the weirdest thing that Cronenberg has ever done and yes it's insane but good god, I think I love it--and that's all I really care about. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmo5ryC60Koe3CkLO2V5UlfINU95e5I0vCH7OLghwPaEa6QnpKEt4GVFK98fW8dqRwqUwACh6w9UmeLGBu5buJh_oqwF9FHtFvX-t8t9upgzM340diud0zAqJMT_sHzBDdA58UEs1V0vV/s400/ishot-2884.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564034015409555922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 234px; " /></span></div>Andrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05429322588091791426noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-23572684000026892942011-01-18T14:23:00.000-08:002011-01-18T15:48:35.220-08:00Radio Days (1987) The Power of Nostalgia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvI6RmOi3romxpbs5CmDSuJ0XNemvzE2ukAqhsfUkG8pKM4ZBurh7wpksGn2KcG2L9VhcuLA3n6PVq5TuFBc3O3rWn3zrfBXJbpSTWmqXvWvueJRKALC-F6BmbOi9a2e9S03HdB8BUc5M/s1600/radio+days+poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvI6RmOi3romxpbs5CmDSuJ0XNemvzE2ukAqhsfUkG8pKM4ZBurh7wpksGn2KcG2L9VhcuLA3n6PVq5TuFBc3O3rWn3zrfBXJbpSTWmqXvWvueJRKALC-F6BmbOi9a2e9S03HdB8BUc5M/s320/radio+days+poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563655542639979202" border="0" /></a>On the rare occasion I get back to my hometown in Cadillac, Michigan, I always stop by G & D Pizza to get what may very well be the best slices of pizza I've ever had. The taste of it takes me back to the mid-1980's when it was enjoyed as a lunch during school days or a late-night snack run during the weekends. Many memories from those days - good memories - are peppered with G & D pizza slices. If I eat them while listening to say, Dokken or KISS (which Cadillac <a href="http://www.neffzone.com/kiss/">has a connection to during the 1970's</a>), then the nostalgia goes into overdrive.<br /><br />The five senses can easily trigger nostalgia, and some more than others. The sense of hearing is one qualifies as one of the top triggers. Come on, admit it: you hear a song that played during a time in your life that was a big, red pin on your memory map and you get chills. Or you get sad. Or angry. Or you swoon. Everyone has a song - or even a whole soundtrack - that holds a place in their past.<br /><br />In 1987, Woody Allen wrote and directed a fond love letter to the radio's golden age, the slice-of-life film, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093818/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Radio Days</span></a>. It stars a huge cast, mostly as the family which serves as the basis of all the vignettes and asides. A very young Seth Green stars as Joe, who is the narrator (Allen) as a boy. It might as well be Allen himself, but he does serve the stories up on a fictional plate. He lives in a crowded household with his parents (Michael Tucker and Julie Kavner), his aunt and uncle (Renee Lippin and Josh Mostel), their daughter (Joy Newman), his grandparents (William Magerman and Leah Carrey), and another aunt, the lovesick Bea (Dianne Wiest). The movie spans the years 1941 through New Year's Day, 1944, before television had come along and the greatest home entertainment you could get was on the radio.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ShNpLslzHcY9Ev8MuDH7LimHW8FaXcu9lNmKe93OUytL3bEuqvWkyk2YK94PWtNrIH_N_QOb8G6rnw1DXFhHjFuan_7b8rNbDsYN3CMRiuxmXNbh-RYKIAmx0F_Avr47UMJ9JpfYjDk/s1600/radio+days+family.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ShNpLslzHcY9Ev8MuDH7LimHW8FaXcu9lNmKe93OUytL3bEuqvWkyk2YK94PWtNrIH_N_QOb8G6rnw1DXFhHjFuan_7b8rNbDsYN3CMRiuxmXNbh-RYKIAmx0F_Avr47UMJ9JpfYjDk/s320/radio+days+family.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563655481561454322" border="0" /></a>There really is no plot to the movie, rather a series of short stories and vignettes. The older Joe as narrator reminisces about life as a young Jewish kid in Rockaway, New York, and how radio was central to the daily lives of different characters. He talks of how radio influenced him and led him to "collect" stories about the radio business, which results in the parallel story of naive, heavily-Brooklyn-accented, wannabe-radio star Sally White (Mia Farrow) as she struggles to achieve fame.<br /><br />Sally's story takes her from being a cigarette girl in a nightclub to a witness to a mob murder, but her ditzy personality and hometown charm convinces the mobster (Danny Aiello) to help her out in a very funny scene. Just before her big break, Pearl Harbor is attacked and her fame will just have to wait. She shuttles from job to job before taking elocution lessons, which lead her to be one of the posh radio stars enjoying the very same nightclub at which she started. It's a sweet, often funny journey that makes you root for the never-say-die Sally.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02OS2VclhGJziBKDsIQJOucJ35U7vOxSACrIDQ-Fh5dOOSr0bEkFlesCfKNUC7JBQO0rjCYO-mpz3x5ReOZqNqqaQYovtHh6aytlsuK36ZylWu_8MHJJeSEvDMk_kSSxsrKstGwhEeqM/s1600/radio+days+superhero.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg02OS2VclhGJziBKDsIQJOucJ35U7vOxSACrIDQ-Fh5dOOSr0bEkFlesCfKNUC7JBQO0rjCYO-mpz3x5ReOZqNqqaQYovtHh6aytlsuK36ZylWu_8MHJJeSEvDMk_kSSxsrKstGwhEeqM/s320/radio+days+superhero.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563655413574466930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Wallace Shawn voices The Masked Avenger<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Much of the film is ranges from sweet to funny. Joe tells the story of how his desire for a Masked Avenger (voiced by Wallace Shawn) compartment ring leads him to a "life of crime" by keeping the proceeds his Hebrew school instructed him to collect to help support a new state in Palestine (indeed, Israel would be formed about seven years later). This gets him in huge trouble, as expected. Joe talks of his Aunt Bea and her search for love, included one hefty fellow trying to get fresh before he's scared off by radio reports of Martians landing in New Jersey. Songs remind Joe of specific memories, such as his cousin dancing to Carmen Miranda's "South American Way" or his first time kissing a girl he liked or attending a movie at Radio City Music Hall. <br /><br />However, there is one very poignant scene devoid of narration and entirely chilling. When a little girl falls down a well, people from all walks of life stop what they're doing and listen. Not <span style="font-style: italic;">watch</span>, mind you. They <span style="font-style: italic;">listen</span>. The rich, the poor, men, women, children, everyone is glued to their radios. And when it's over, it can be summed up when the father, who had just been spanking young Joe with a belt for a chemistry set accident, holds his son close as life solemnly moves on. It's a brilliant, beautiful scene tied together only by the voice of the radio reporter on the scene.<br /></div></div><br />While I tend not to gush over Woody Allen, I will not deny his place as one of the great directors. I have always believed him to be a fantastic craftsman. <span style="font-style: italic;">Radio Days</span> is a movie I can watch anytime; it's comfortable and yes, nostalgic. I was not a kid in the 1940's, although I feel that way some mornings. But Allen paints such a gorgeous picture of New York life during the heyday of radio, that it's one of those stimuli that prompts me to wonder what it would have been like to have lived then.<br /><br />When you watch the movie, it's fun to play "spot the star." William H. Macy has a wordless role as one of the performers with Sally when news arrives of Pearl Harbor. Jeff Daniels makes an appearance. Diane Keaton has a cameo as a nightclub singer. Also take a look for Mike Starr (countless films, such as <span style="font-style: italic;">Goodfellas</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bodyguard</span>) as a burglar in the beginning, Don Pardo as a game show host, Tito Puente as a bandleader, Larry David (<span style="font-style: italic;">Curb Your Enthusiasm</span>) as a communist neighbor, the late Rebecca Schaeffer as the communist neighbor's daughter, and several others you'll just have to spot yourself.<br /><br />It's a sweet-hearted movie, a definite love letter to 1940's radio and 1940's New York. It's funny, poignant in parts, with genuine love for the characters. It speaks not only to the power of radio and the spoken word, but to the strength of nostalgia, and how long-gone performers and certain avenues of artistic expression will live on in the memories and minds of those who promise to remember them.<br /><br />Now me, I'm hankering for a slice of G & D pizza and a music block by Def Leppard...Dodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13555228849584962346noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-47326076562216640132010-12-04T18:09:00.001-08:002010-12-04T19:16:05.019-08:00You’re a whore, darlin’ : Spread<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nv0HHtol03p6JeoPm4HVhR8576-caEXUq_dfQU2iX8L744QvtzHujQOS37N3Mnp_oosYJNiIH3nCo_iGApN9CNGAGEnSVdRSVZ9aUh5jW6EXsw0532S1SvBobRCueZcJ1xSxspnAPM4/s1600/spreadfrog.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2nv0HHtol03p6JeoPm4HVhR8576-caEXUq_dfQU2iX8L744QvtzHujQOS37N3Mnp_oosYJNiIH3nCo_iGApN9CNGAGEnSVdRSVZ9aUh5jW6EXsw0532S1SvBobRCueZcJ1xSxspnAPM4/s200/spreadfrog.png" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">That the final few minutes of director, <strong>David</strong> <strong>Mackenzie</strong>’s film <strong><em>Spread</em></strong> feature a bull frog digesting a mouse, must mean something. I think it was the director’s way of laughing at his audience – his way of saying, “Gotcha!” Because, as it stands, <strong><em>Spread</em></strong> serves up a plot that has been seen numerous times before, but in its last few minutes it diverts from what one expects and travels a whole other route. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, that’s about the only good thing that happens in this otherwise dreadful film.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJxmIoIqEFVO2IUNwVDL8P_LjAOjUiaeGylmX5ZgQRe7Mt7WXV3-JBVsN2HkUln25OpoNuLb5qN-qdaReU_4DUD25wp3TWcI_rrgAHn85GvgfVnzw0kBaYTiubsxYAo1OzoN8Q3hNFAc/s1600/spread-movie-review1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJxmIoIqEFVO2IUNwVDL8P_LjAOjUiaeGylmX5ZgQRe7Mt7WXV3-JBVsN2HkUln25OpoNuLb5qN-qdaReU_4DUD25wp3TWcI_rrgAHn85GvgfVnzw0kBaYTiubsxYAo1OzoN8Q3hNFAc/s200/spread-movie-review1.jpg" width="138" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">Set in sunny Los Angeles, <i><b>Spread </b></i>tells the tale of , Nikki (<strong>Ashton Kutcher</strong>) an empty-head Midnight Cowboy seemingly fucking his way through the women of La La Land for cash. Through voice over, we get to hear Nikki’s philosophy of how to find, fornicate-with, and forget any girl he sets his eye on. And that’s the first problem we have to deal with in <strong><em>Spread</em></strong>; </span><span style="font-size: small;">Kutcher’s hustler roams a Hollywood party smirking and jerking his was through the crowd, and it’s just like one of his Nikon commercials. In fact, I was waiting for him to pull out his camera and take some pictures. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Look, there is no denying that Ashton Kutcher is a handsome, photogenic man with a great head of hair, and a nice chest…but when it comes to things like charm and sex appeal, he’s somewhat lacking. Sadly, when you hang a movie like this on your leading man, he’s got to be a least somewhat believable, and, well, how does that song go in those commercials I referenced earlier: “Some people got, and some people don’t”… Kutcher don't.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Be that as it may, we suspend disbelief, because <strong><em>Spread </em></strong>is so much fun to watch. The glossy look, the blinding colors, the big gorgeous houses, the seemingly endless shots of its star semi-naked. That’s got to count for something.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeKpLptYOIj8gbIvQpGrdHFTt-FDiyHDx4WSPKyqdCMuF6G97tB4wrTrYWB40VxQFHA3tWqEgX_tbo3uKnJKfV_2Jmb61W8vL17Hk-Wj8SRu7cScVIA5eDz83XFO5BSRs6jLOzQzUnUE/s1600/spread_kutcher2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeKpLptYOIj8gbIvQpGrdHFTt-FDiyHDx4WSPKyqdCMuF6G97tB4wrTrYWB40VxQFHA3tWqEgX_tbo3uKnJKfV_2Jmb61W8vL17Hk-Wj8SRu7cScVIA5eDz83XFO5BSRs6jLOzQzUnUE/s200/spread_kutcher2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">Actually one of the big pluses of this movie is former Lesbian and UFO abductee, <strong>Anne Heche</strong> who plays a Beverly Hills cougar named Samantha. As soon as Nikki hones in on Samantha at a party, you know you are in for some campy fun. Whether she’s riding Nikki’s tool like a bucking bronco, or checking in to the hospital to have a vaginal plasty, Heche does not disappoint, in fact she’s the best thing about <strong><em>Spread</em></strong>. I might have enjoyed this film a lot more, if Samantha was the focus and not Nikki. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">For awhile, Nikki and Samantha are happy in their arrangement, until eventually it falls apart (as relationships of this ilk are prone to do, one imagines), because Nikki finds himself obsessing over a waitress he met in a donut shop.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sSgt1gFSeC44DLzjRgCUug5OcIM4VSNRkO1u4S62GZnffmpXXfHE8cafImZ4SdfCxUYxN5uEJV4RmHq6AJ6Fp1V8DK6q56nVOa53dIihZqifESsARFQiCcTPyMIDiSkm77v8Q3-fzIs/s1600/margarita-levieva.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_sSgt1gFSeC44DLzjRgCUug5OcIM4VSNRkO1u4S62GZnffmpXXfHE8cafImZ4SdfCxUYxN5uEJV4RmHq6AJ6Fp1V8DK6q56nVOa53dIihZqifESsARFQiCcTPyMIDiSkm77v8Q3-fzIs/s200/margarita-levieva.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>Margarita Levieva</strong> plays Heather, the food serving object of desire and as expected, she initially rebukes all of Nikki’s advances until he wears her down with his charm (i.e. his smirking and jerking) and suddenly we are in rom-com land. But then, <strong><em>Spread</em></strong> takes a turn when Nikki discovers that the woman he loves is actually a prostitute (<em>quelle horror !). </em>At this point, my mind began to reel at the possibilities of what might happen – <em><strong>Prostitution Hers and His</strong></em> –in fact there is even one interesting scene when Nikki and Heather go out to a party and he gives her tips on how to pick up potential customers. Unfortunately <strong><em>Spread</em></strong> drops this idea before too long and degenerates into a very predictable story of <em>the gal who got away, came back, got away again, and causes the hero to take an 11th hour flight to be at her side, complete with an engagement ring.</em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: small;">Giving credit where credit is due, as I mentioned earlier, <strong><em>Spread</em></strong> does manage to pull the rug out from under the viewer in the last few minutes – but unfortunately it’s not enough to save this otherwise wreck of a movie that tries to be earnest, sexy, moralistic and edgy but just comes off glossy, neurotic and dull. </span>Pax Romanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00951019083510283683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-82601330705779610052010-11-29T19:56:00.000-08:002010-11-30T15:07:42.491-08:00Friday Night Films: Singin' In The Rain (1952)<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIt5XB_u3m4qI2lE6O6J7fHN1nfKACnIj1W7cCBk062bBMTxa3ZfZu2Qry2pjcpqdpzfM2pamMPK3wVrWhivsvF4hIpg0hE90R7sTg3k1cp0ZRgglCXtB-JQo4C40uvFpaKKrUmcQv306p/s1600/ishot-2380.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2YQ6vHSswvrlhnV6fdkTJKTJbg57-PLBAwnL0jJ5sGv0NWu1yfRVjQal-C1GNH4s_k6WWZKJ2BaAGek4cZNC0v7Ksijh_tP5rnQBvqYA4hJtXZQRL_l-0dMbRbuJ0P05Pg_cc5epn9-x/s1600/ishot-2394.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr2YQ6vHSswvrlhnV6fdkTJKTJbg57-PLBAwnL0jJ5sGv0NWu1yfRVjQal-C1GNH4s_k6WWZKJ2BaAGek4cZNC0v7Ksijh_tP5rnQBvqYA4hJtXZQRL_l-0dMbRbuJ0P05Pg_cc5epn9-x/s400/ishot-2394.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545197703425711202" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Singin' In the Rain</i> always brings me back to the 6th grade. We were assigned to do a music project on a musician, singer or dancer and present it to the class. While most students were busy planning how best to brag about their good music taste by using Bob Marley or The Beatles--I was busy gluing pictures of Gene Kelly onto my poster board. I brought in <i>S</i><i>ingin' In the Rain </i>to show the class a clip, opting for the less well known dance number "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKlub5vB9z8">Moses Supposes</a>". The clip was a huge hit, and I found I won over all those "cool" kids who thought I was lame for picking a male singer and dancer. Still, it's been such a long time since I had seen Singin' In the Rain and after the film got some recent credit on an episode of Glee, I thought it the perfect opportunity to share it with my sister.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Singin' In the Rain</i> is still as wonderful as it ever was. The bright tantalizing colors, the extravagant costumes and of course the dancing. The film is a time capsule of so many different things that it becomes hard to keep track of them all. There's the glimpse into the 20s when movies were transitioning from silent films to talkies. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0UW8heCG1hKHxlL-fVK2_zMLUceYbj2pPLo1QN1SeLvZlD32CcKCa8hn_KNAG3j83CNXNjQovU_lM2agcfRESihPpLsMioe3FApsk4X4r3pb5-NN9vLw_wwbaNYXYwldjMprx_DxvBlp/s400/ishot-2378.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545196083034348978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 261px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A glimpse into the hey-day of musicals, when it was socially acceptable for big stars to waltz around a studio set singing and smiling. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG24LxLCaHHNAenSz-qDjn2Lrp8NQawwN0caiW5lIPKRu7mfpLnQ4vWaqPTFnxUs3kFESmp5aLX1ELc5q9IiiwbVuuu4o3uJ7y2INd0D83okyVOXxZLtjEP7rYU2ixuBA3jbX56_-mEfxA/s400/ishot-2384.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545195922633277090" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 324px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And then there's also the ever changing glimpse into how quickly Hollywood trends can change. Here is something I had never really given thought to before, but in this most recent viewing I was floored by how poignant the idea was. With every passing decade new trends are made, new stars are born and ways of doing things become obsolete against the ever growing presence of technology. When silent films were transitioned into talkies there was an uproar, and today as people try to tell us that one day all films will be in 3-D---there is also an uproar.We find the idea of all movies switching to 3-D to be ludicrous just as folks in the 20s found the idea of talkies to be outrageous and silly. Sadly we really have no control over the ever changing trends of Hollywood. <i>Singin' In the Rain's</i> prevalent theme however gets even more sad and perhaps even a little bit ironic when you stop and think about how quickly Gene Kelly's career fell apart once musicals also became a declining trend. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutJ4G8b2S-0kpcvWSGww98eQY6-Fz_UQ7VpcQhMkuxp5Xo5POvo27WWMOJ9PHKJU-bgDQeDect879BNx7CFcdQMANDzJ7NU-fQa0GFCFH5wERnG4xhIka7KhFTNVIvRA370A54uXrLfZR/s400/ishot-2390.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545196411245366850" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Aside from the parallels between then and now, <i>Singin' In the Rain </i>continues to be a crowd pleaser because it is just too darn entertaining. It's a musical for people that hate musicals. It's a spectacle and a glimpse into a time when people could do amazing things without green screens, and wires. Gene Kelly glides effortlessly around the stage while Donald O'Connor walks up walls. <i>Singing' In the Rain</i> will never fail to make me smile and that's why I love it so much. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oiQ7PpQjcY2966s9t5MVgfr6foFJ4q5QLBuMFvjbbp9U3kCV4oJP-dlLxn0Y_MIxFOk1L8KtEGECFytlYaongq7lOrorR_7TeYf-3VTOKuL0Bd40YpPEKtDji1TYI6CX-S-Q9WTvVAJK/s400/ishot-2379.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545479985499079218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 293px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>There is just so much to love. From the costumes, to the perfect comedic timing of Donald O'Connor, to the sets, to the songs, to the shrieking voice of Lina Lamont, to the behind the scenes look at Hollywood in the 1920s, to the impeccably adorable face of Debbie Reynolds, </div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBpy6UHLLDuXfv0_ealKmapYKfB6bH0bku6wHDE-RlN4MTkkawgPG7ZF0VlVkmlk3ao5gtA5qvWu_uqPsKbq7gpFefSwFHJTQiDKSprbWhrLjJRCEbg2RqeZ4RwHQt6FMAW3i9MkJXua-/s400/ishot-2391.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545480663853428994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 317px; " /></span><div><br /></div><div>to the dancing. <i>Oh the dancing.</i> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fTVKVKr1n5twfl4lBZZRVpkNkF-jyaWeDF_H4P-sVW6FiudiOfI6c1OkqoC68fX7kCUYOrnL0d8tkkCNaYY0pwYZQnxha9LhXeUFvJM3KHtM2goVqjgDfMTDdOpNAcRPNWYanrgE2z5M/s400/ishot-2388.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545480840067185906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 307px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMQXb-ut2Da9C5fq-9X_eGd0qZzcoG42kKlWueo2o53VAkQePiYfjdTIttDvflSIgFa5ls1Y4H18E89OhQ8p_syvXliIQWF6qLnr2slNX8jz0mDL1hAlFYqWX5ASSZpmdxiBWTcolnCb2/s400/ishot-2387.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545480980925885906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><i>Singin' In the Rain</i> has enough dancing to make your head seriously spin. It tricks you into thinking that you too can perform an effortless dance routine by just putting on a pair of tap shoes and a cute outfit. The dancing makes you float out of your body and puts you right smack dab in the action. For that hour and 39 minutes, we are a part of the 1920s and submersed in a land of happiness.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIt5XB_u3m4qI2lE6O6J7fHN1nfKACnIj1W7cCBk062bBMTxa3ZfZu2Qry2pjcpqdpzfM2pamMPK3wVrWhivsvF4hIpg0hE90R7sTg3k1cp0ZRgglCXtB-JQo4C40uvFpaKKrUmcQv306p/s400/ishot-2380.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545479735694403058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 287px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Of course not all is happiness in <i>Singin' In the Rain</i> land as the levels of irony run deep in this movie. Just as it was a movie largely about the behind the scenes area of film and about tricking the audience--<i>Singin' In the Rain</i> held a few secrets of its own. In what is perhaps the most disheartening, we find that ironically Debbie Reynolds did not sing her own songs in this--nor was that her voice dubbing over Lina's in the Dancing Cavalier. Additionally, Gene Kelly was what is commonly referred to today as an "asshole". He insulted Debbie Reynolds for not being able to dance, and Donald O'Connor hated working with him because he never felt like he was good enough. In fact, Fred Astaire found Debbie Reynolds crying underneath a piano on the set and then helped her improve her dancing himself. </div><div><br /></div><div>Donald O'Connor was smoking 4 packs a day while filming this--4 packs! Debbie Reynolds feet were bleeding after the "Good Morning" scene. Gosh, it's like several bombs keep exploding in my perfect dream world of <i>Singin' In the Rain</i>. A word to the wise--if you find that you are in tickled pink by Gene Kelly, try to avoid reading anything about him, because it will probably cause you to cry somewhere alone and feel let down. Finding out that the real world of<i> Singin' In the Rain</i> isn't as happy as we thought--and further more realizing that it was just not any fun for the people doing it, is extremely upsetting.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIf_wLmWSzpDzsSEkUc55j37wILNF5LC8D9EBEve-8s-Whi1_EsNcqsIsph83WOOoCFOYvGCF_XiA788Tu0Znfha6WekCkG3ss1d6toPDrXrfGEv2hWk6On2-mBKDJx_M-pFAe7-Vgbd6F/s400/ishot-2383.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545480119709291426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Which is why we will not focus on that, because <i>Singin' In the Rain</i> teaches us to focus on the spectacle, on the finished product. We can still live in that happy rain cloud and no one has to know the truth right? What it really comes down to is that <i>Singin' In the Rain</i> is just one of those delightful movies that makes us smile right away and allows us to keep that smile on throughout the film's duration. It has all the necessary ingredients to do what any great film should do--entertain us. And for that, we love it. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVLKHTl5ZhK_D7ev2Ogcx9KJJi39m5Ohbqq3_ImHAX_DXqyWw18jHfitslJ42H2kcosRq2UJpq1eK9f72Jwp6zA8Sv7teUCl6BQsWbiyeBPKHH7dJY4IdGy35xOyEBAchrnWIB93av7hI/s400/ishot-2393.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545196193643514626" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div>Andrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05429322588091791426noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-1853546061713770322010-11-28T17:00:00.000-08:002010-11-30T07:07:40.468-08:00Signals From Left Field: Neverwhere (1996 British TV)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8u6rT9rEY39bGSxFoCQQbHgN65R_aha9rmZlIVz_mwwSdCSfVeCtGpVvlXggGl_TuB5xN_WZyVcD4Oox4PNccZ_b1zFYUFkMMRsdvbFTJLb1eQ2QpzJH5ZzeqKOgg6KBJEP3BUbHfyY/s1600/neverwhere+cover.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544771291349638146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii8u6rT9rEY39bGSxFoCQQbHgN65R_aha9rmZlIVz_mwwSdCSfVeCtGpVvlXggGl_TuB5xN_WZyVcD4Oox4PNccZ_b1zFYUFkMMRsdvbFTJLb1eQ2QpzJH5ZzeqKOgg6KBJEP3BUbHfyY/s320/neverwhere+cover.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">"It's when you're safe at home that you wish you were having an adventure. When you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home."</span> ~ Thorton Wilder<br /><br />Those words hold a significant truth about the basic theme of the 1996 British miniseries, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Neverwhere</span>, a story crafted by one of my favorite writers in Neil Gaiman. Upon watching the six roughly half-hour episodes, it sums up everything the protagonist experiences in quite the pretty little package. It's an adventure, pure and simple, underneath all of the fantastic and fairy-tale stylings in which Gaiman dresses the story. And some of the best adventures involve the fish-out-of-water, the inexperienced catalyst, the unaccounted-for fly in the antagonist's ointment. <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Neverwhere </span>features one wonderful example of that type of character in an atypical hero named Richard Mayhew (Gary Blakewell).<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynGuj7NnNchDmBlTzN_EL3Kbb4E4osRQgc8H_aF8xVsU1aYZqw-TRekbj1arqTy8GvrpjH_B0fGj1pNqhPyCuX4jlWhqNP5d1cadl2klegCvUcJzAdhRhqV613Bq-cILCvGvMpvkDA3I/s1600/neverwhere+door.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 220px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544771177508634194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynGuj7NnNchDmBlTzN_EL3Kbb4E4osRQgc8H_aF8xVsU1aYZqw-TRekbj1arqTy8GvrpjH_B0fGj1pNqhPyCuX4jlWhqNP5d1cadl2klegCvUcJzAdhRhqV613Bq-cILCvGvMpvkDA3I/s320/neverwhere+door.jpg" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0rJ_WXng4OhWf8lcTktNyrOL1RHrTTN3CPj8yLRQeLLDHYdh46eX7NgLHKqaAqtQqWCxkWdRvaGiWtOtuSeErneWN8MhRJG3Afy8k4HkV3F9FB95z-6vVTi2fv0Xt-RPJsi0_OrTWRg/s1600/neverwhere+richard.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544771071664313122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0rJ_WXng4OhWf8lcTktNyrOL1RHrTTN3CPj8yLRQeLLDHYdh46eX7NgLHKqaAqtQqWCxkWdRvaGiWtOtuSeErneWN8MhRJG3Afy8k4HkV3F9FB95z-6vVTi2fv0Xt-RPJsi0_OrTWRg/s320/neverwhere+richard.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Gary Blakewell as Richard Mayhew (above) and Laura Fraser as Door (right)</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Neverwhere</span> appeared first as the miniseries then as a book penned by Gaiman, a veteran of acclaimed comic book stories such as the tremendous <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Sandman</span> series. The series aired on BBC Two and eventually became available on DVD through A & E in the United States (I first watched it on loan from Netflix). One of the most noticeable traits of the series, at least in the way it looks, is the "PBS video" appearance. Yes, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Neverwhere</span> is shot in video. It was meant to be edited later to give it more of a "film" appearance, yet that never happened, so it aired "as is." And you know what? It doesn't take away from the story's richness one bit.<span style="LINE-HEIGHT: 115%;font-family:';font-size:11;" ></span><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccLBexGfHayjRi9130USoOPb4D6d1Zh2c0D0C1abrqIp72a-2bfGBE2RnWM19sYsEVX1Oy_9u2pIhHNzjNF6K0SfXLc37K4w3GPrEk5GJdzeaANV_h4Tnwcwb0pfxzadiWNKFDD7b4dg/s1600/neverwhere+croup+vandemar.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544770976817950850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhccLBexGfHayjRi9130USoOPb4D6d1Zh2c0D0C1abrqIp72a-2bfGBE2RnWM19sYsEVX1Oy_9u2pIhHNzjNF6K0SfXLc37K4w3GPrEk5GJdzeaANV_h4Tnwcwb0pfxzadiWNKFDD7b4dg/s320/neverwhere+croup+vandemar.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Hywel Bennett as Mr. Croup and Clive Russell as Mr. Vandemar<br /><br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-size:100%;">The story is a modern odyssey, a retelling of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The Wizard of Oz</span> if Dorothy was a befuddled Scottish guy and the denizens of a reality right under our noses played for keeps. Richard Mayhew has a typical life with a bossy fiancée and a boring job, yet he's an optimist and has a notoriously kind heart.</span> That heart gets him into trouble the minute he rescues a mysterious homeless woman named Door, a pretty little wisp of a girl who has the ability to open any door with the touch of her hand. She's pursued by hired assassins, the theatrical Mr. Croup and the Vinnie Jones-lookalike Mr. Vandemar, who wish to deliver her to an unseen benefactor. Richard's life takes a turn for the bizarre the minute he becomes involved with Door.<br /></div></div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwjfbnwgfFVxLSrxMHPefvZRSE8p9I1FnShTG4ojodJ1Ol9nne2S-m1yPywXNIRGde4W6ePCpGoDYv_IwRb-ME3Ozo3-MfdoHPZehyphenhyphen9Lkw9R3XRGTCbe3_YFqIvtw68bQOmJfOgQM1NA/s1600/neverwhere+doorhunterrichard.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 228px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544770889516556146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwjfbnwgfFVxLSrxMHPefvZRSE8p9I1FnShTG4ojodJ1Ol9nne2S-m1yPywXNIRGde4W6ePCpGoDYv_IwRb-ME3Ozo3-MfdoHPZehyphenhyphen9Lkw9R3XRGTCbe3_YFqIvtw68bQOmJfOgQM1NA/s320/neverwhere+doorhunterrichard.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Door, Hunter (Tanya Moodie), and Richard<br /><br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">After nursing Door back to health and enlisting the help of the dandy scoundrel Marquis de Carabas (Paterson Joseph), Richard is left to find that no one remembers him. His brush with what's called London Below - where the homeless mingle with the fringes of time and reality - has drawn him into a world of political intrigue and high adventure against a backdrop of urban fantasy. Richard must now find Door and join her in her quest to reach The Angel Islington (Peter Capaldi) to find answers regarding the massacre of her family, royals set to unite the kingdoms of London Below. Like a dark reflection of Dorothy Gale's team of unusual beings, Richard finds himself teamed with Door, the legendary warrior Hunter, and the Marquis.<br /></div></div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFaS74pOM9NbmDBP2ul_BKwND9KFkudXLHc2hr9h9UtGX0FGLmjyCfAEpxjYOZYQ3PrBVBoSr2JH9-4TEtHg4Y4YsObYtFYYu6C8uWQikaV5quBQ3TR9fNd8x3kR2qIc6NqTEscmD7wo/s1600/neverwhere+marquis.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544770809223117218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFaS74pOM9NbmDBP2ul_BKwND9KFkudXLHc2hr9h9UtGX0FGLmjyCfAEpxjYOZYQ3PrBVBoSr2JH9-4TEtHg4Y4YsObYtFYYu6C8uWQikaV5quBQ3TR9fNd8x3kR2qIc6NqTEscmD7wo/s320/neverwhere+marquis.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Paterson Joseph as the Marquis de Carabas<br /><br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-size:100%;">The journey is rife with the strange and unusual, and poor Richard is the key to the entire thing. There are "floating markets," street carnivals and trade shows that take place suddenly</span> in abandoned buildings or closed-for-the-night tourist attractions. Souls can be bought and traded, or stored in inanimate objects for safekeeping. An ancient order of monks have been guarding an important key for centuries in a darkened corner under London. Every stop along the London tube lines has its own personality, a reason for its name. Through it all, Richard is the catalyst. He's the innocent, and that is perhaps his most powerful trait. He doesn't understand everything, but he wants to do the right thing <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">every</span> time. When his true trials come, you're never sure he's going to make it. He's not from London Below. It's not his world.<br /></div></div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzAu1d7587yTiiHvGf86h-6ce-rmYaASKVYserjVC4IazPWhS8ucVSxUR3SIeYAsNm2KLK7dCdrFU32EoS4cnRJkJFfm0PPzdKSB6GV60jN3l20q4O3m1PSePErXSTFgsDyoBUDUtD1Y/s1600/neverwhere+angel+islington.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544770731060733586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzAu1d7587yTiiHvGf86h-6ce-rmYaASKVYserjVC4IazPWhS8ucVSxUR3SIeYAsNm2KLK7dCdrFU32EoS4cnRJkJFfm0PPzdKSB6GV60jN3l20q4O3m1PSePErXSTFgsDyoBUDUtD1Y/s320/neverwhere+angel+islington.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Peter Capaldi as The Angel Islington<br /><br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh, and the ending. To me, the ending is one of the most satisfying conclusions I've ever seen. I will absolutely not spoil it here. I can tell you that when I read the book (which I did first instead of seeing the series), then watched it on the screen, I uttered an audible "yes." It's how I wanted it to end. Maybe it's an obvious ending, maybe you'll see it coming, but it really is satisfying.<br /><br />I love Neil Gaiman's work. I enjoyed the <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Sandman</span> series, his 17th century reimagining of Marvel superheroes in <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">1602</span>, and the enormous imagination of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Stardust</span>, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Coraline</span>, and the book I just finished, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">American Gods</span>. Gaiman is known for painstaking research and detail, digging up fairy tales and giving them a new wash for a new audience. <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Neverwhere</span> demonstrates that word <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">imagination</span> very deftly. World creation in a fictional setting is never easy, yet here's London Below, as realistic and alive as if it actually existed. The characters, both good and evil, so endearing, you might wish you really knew them.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Neverwhere </span>is pure adventure, pure storytelling from the mind of one of the great modern weavers of fantastic fiction. If you can get past the "PBS video" look of it - which really doesn't take much effort - you'll find a wonderful tale that should be listed among the great journeys that heroes have taken in literature.<br /><br />But that's just me. Find out for yourself, and I hope you enjoy the adventure.<br /></span></div></div>Dodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13555228849584962346noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-66169072500891151132010-11-20T17:57:00.000-08:002010-11-20T17:57:12.688-08:00A Flawed Classic: New York, New York<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwhKO91ad7UVCOCPPJgMZQXYK4hnLhayVhNciMeNqlBXIvnCRXSTZBxaRxob8RYGt0jtvGzVSY1nXB5jv1uUeeU6Eo_x-mnpPtF3-DGLNOZSG6iFW3qD9MOOfdiP0gxjC_szgzwbzsxA/s1600/New_York_New_York.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwhKO91ad7UVCOCPPJgMZQXYK4hnLhayVhNciMeNqlBXIvnCRXSTZBxaRxob8RYGt0jtvGzVSY1nXB5jv1uUeeU6Eo_x-mnpPtF3-DGLNOZSG6iFW3qD9MOOfdiP0gxjC_szgzwbzsxA/s200/New_York_New_York.jpg" width="131" /></a></div>Mention <b>Martin Scorsese</b> to most and visions of <i><b>Mean Street</b><b>s</b></i>, <i><b>Taxi Driver</b></i>s and pugilistic <i><b>Raging Bull</b></i>s come to mind. To be sure, Scorsese is a master of gritty, crime soaked cinema. So, it is very easy to forget that the man who gave us <i><b>Goodfellas</b></i> also directed <i><b>Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore</b></i> (an incredibly feminist themed film that went on to inspire a dreadful sit-com), <i><b>The Last Waltz</b></i> (The Band’s swan song), and <b><i>The Age of Innocence</i></b> ( a lavish adaptation of <b>Edith Wharton</b>’s novel). <br />
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One of Scorsese’s more obscure films is 1977’s<i><b> New York, New York</b></i>. Oddly enough, everyone probably knows the theme song thanks to a certain iconic crooner who recorded it several years after the film came out; but most have probably never seen the movie that bears its name.<br />
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Set in post-war Gotham, <i><b>New York, New York</b></i> is a hybrid beast that is tough to pin down. Physically, it looks like a grand MGM musical – most of the movie was filmed on a sound stage, the sets are gorgeous, the colors lush, and the atmosphere is dream like. That said, the story is a rather bleak tale of two star crossed lovers who fall in love, fight (a lot) and do not end up happily ever after. The dialogue is mostly improvised, which might make <i><b>New York, New York</b></i> the Granddaddy of mumble-core. Oh, and one more thing, it’s also a musical; but wait, it’s not one of those films where people just break out into song; the main characters are in show business so we get to see them singing on stages, in plays, night clubs, and eventually, in movies.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJfUTUEzobjUTzCe0BuYHHGQTVs34SZp1gE7IMp5DGPjr9_UY47rcqTJ_aZJLIz7y3dVfx3ezp1iAKN-j1mOdjQQmQgk6k2Ov0jjW9otNDXumWpULrsGOhIQpDcEB6-iRTf8PfmCPGe4/s1600/ny4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTJfUTUEzobjUTzCe0BuYHHGQTVs34SZp1gE7IMp5DGPjr9_UY47rcqTJ_aZJLIz7y3dVfx3ezp1iAKN-j1mOdjQQmQgk6k2Ov0jjW9otNDXumWpULrsGOhIQpDcEB6-iRTf8PfmCPGe4/s320/ny4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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Jimmy Doyle (<b>Robert DeNiro</b>) is a selfish cad who can blow a mean saxophone. The start of the film finds him wandering a massive VJ Day party hitting on women. Oddly, Jimmy is one of the few men not in uniform – in fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in his Hawaiian shirt. Be that as it may, he eventually sets his sights on a WAC named Francine Evans (<b>Liza Minnelli</b>). Sitting down at her table, making small talk, we get our first taste of the odd dialogue in <i><b>New York, New York</b></i>. In a scene that seems to go on forever, Jimmy repeatedly hits on Francine, and she keeps turning him down and it goes something like this,<br />
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Jimmy: I guess a little small talks in order here now <br />
Francine: Can it get any smaller? <br />
Jimmy: Now look I can take a hint <br />
Francine: Can you also take a walk <br />
Jimmy: Do you want me to leave? <br />
Francine: YES! <br />
Jimmy: I'll leave right now <br />
Francine: BYE <br />
Jimmy: You expect me to leave after the way you just talked to me? <br />
Francine: Will you go away <br />
Jimmy: I don't want to, I want to stay here and annoy you. <br />
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…and that’s just the start of it. Honestly, this give and take, which is sort of cute at first, becomes irritating at the five minute mark – I worship Robert DeNiro, but he’s no <b>Groucho Marx</b>, and Minnelli is no <b>Margaret Dumont</b>.<br />
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But hold on, it does get better.<br />
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Eventually Jimmy and Francine hook up and it turns out that his saxophone playing, and her singing voice are a match made in heaven, and soon the musical duo throw a band together and take their show out on the road.<br />
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Once they start performing, it’s clear that the audiences have come to hear Francine warble, and Jimmy has problems with this. His ego is so fragile that he starts coming apart, and his relationship with Francine begins to fray. In one of <i><b>New York, New York</b></i>’s more powerful scenes, the couple are engaged in a screaming match in a car. Francine (now nine months pregnant with Jimmy’s child) is hysterical over Jimmy’s behavior, and the more hysterical she becomes, the more terrifying and enraged Jimmy acts. At one he point he lunges over the back seat, hands clawed as if he were set to strangle, and screams in her face, “Did I tell you to have that baby?!?!” – and then suddenly Francine goes into labor and he rushes her to the hospital. This is where you’d think that Jimmy might come to his senses, instead, he visits Francine in the hospital, and when she tells him she had a boy, he tells her, “I can’t be a father”. And like that, he just walks out of her life. <br />
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After this <i><b>New York, New York </b></i>sets it’s eye on Francine and her bullet like rise to the top. Free of Jimmy’s hostile ways and hateful attitude, she becomes the star she always knew she would. Her songs become big hits, she is featured on the cover of dozens of showbiz magazines, and eventually she becomes a movie star.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszAoAFxfsn6gIQoOofhRhm4M1O-uN2vOp5R_fwt_7CPJTMsxWoepa0LjGecgtGOvsCNFMLTnL70e3R8C9-DtTzuzzpsUpFMRyqQxlfJswU_mQ3uNkoDxzqnAKtUdwoYeuY3_yNJyBxj4/s1600/vlcsnap-2703778.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszAoAFxfsn6gIQoOofhRhm4M1O-uN2vOp5R_fwt_7CPJTMsxWoepa0LjGecgtGOvsCNFMLTnL70e3R8C9-DtTzuzzpsUpFMRyqQxlfJswU_mQ3uNkoDxzqnAKtUdwoYeuY3_yNJyBxj4/s320/vlcsnap-2703778.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The second half of <i><b>New York, New York</b></i> <u>is Liza Minnelli’s film</u> and she owns it. If her Francine is anything, it’s a white washed portrayal of her mother, the iconic, <b>Judy Garland</b>: a tragic love life, a brilliant career. But, unlike Judy, Francine is not self destructive, but like Garland, she can sing and preform like few before her. <br />
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Watching Minnelli belt out a song like “The World Goes Round” is nothing short of magic. And Scorsese’s camera loves her unique face…those huge eyes, that oddly formed mouth, those blindingly white teeth that form that famous overbite…for some reason, she looks beautiful in spite of everything – especially when she’s singing. <br />
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In one of <i><b>New York, New York</b></i>’s most imaginative moments, Jimmy goes into a movie theatre on Times Square to see Francine’s new film. Suddenly, we are watching a film that features <i>Francine, as an usher in a movie theater, imagining herself as the star of the film on the screen</i> (think about that for a second, it might make your head hurt). This fifteen minute section (which was cut from <i><b>New York, New York </b></i>when it was first released), is a gorgeous homage to the lost art of movie musicals, and makes up for the many less than stellar moments in the film before it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXC7ffoK2zXNmUvFgwluyN7iTGD6x6c3ZK4_Bn_TgSYks5-cKPO5po2Q3e1rORL7DMQF59NSuJr52vUe7Jal1X2ojvozyJ8SgH5aiN_fE-rW2ieCRlu9MD0pcNtKfUGTtx5QhE3p5T8WE/s1600/vlcsnap-2707345.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXC7ffoK2zXNmUvFgwluyN7iTGD6x6c3ZK4_Bn_TgSYks5-cKPO5po2Q3e1rORL7DMQF59NSuJr52vUe7Jal1X2ojvozyJ8SgH5aiN_fE-rW2ieCRlu9MD0pcNtKfUGTtx5QhE3p5T8WE/s320/vlcsnap-2707345.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In the final half hour , <i><b>New York, New York</b></i> is flawless. First up, Jimmy goes back to the club he first met Francine. She’s now headlining there. Then, we get to hear the title song of the movie and marvel over Liza Minnelli doing what she does best (at this point, it seems that she’s no longer playing Francine: <i><u>this is Liza with a Fucking Z</u></i> – from the clothes she’s wearing, to the cut of her hair, to the way she is performing …). After the show, Jimmy gets to meet his son, and then he asks Francine to meet him after the show so they can go out and get a cup of coffee.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3nIIivViVpZ5RpRQHmVNpQQ9u2rM_ZpmpK3WLXXT69GaXRHsYFI-QYLuCnC2K6O8_r_4O7z3SslfPN1BDbtoq5o-4xPUT-664_n-gneWm9HAiLs0ze3OEVnMvnSFc-OBvWQ0J_sprvc/s1600/vlcsnap-2708522.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3nIIivViVpZ5RpRQHmVNpQQ9u2rM_ZpmpK3WLXXT69GaXRHsYFI-QYLuCnC2K6O8_r_4O7z3SslfPN1BDbtoq5o-4xPUT-664_n-gneWm9HAiLs0ze3OEVnMvnSFc-OBvWQ0J_sprvc/s320/vlcsnap-2708522.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Of course if this were a film from the 40’s or 50’s we know what would happen next. The lovelorn couple would have been reunited and walked off in a Technicolor sunset – Scorsese had something else in mind. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><i><b>New York, New York</b></i> is not for everyone, in fact it can be a real effort to get through – but that’s what makes it so incredible. If you do wade through the less than compelling scenes you are rewarded with some moments of sheer cinematic genius, and as long as you did not expect a happy ending, you may even come away appreciating it for the flawed classic it is.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pt5vOmGD8BgRrrUvfaunQ8El2bAcafPDI7RyjPFhsWN5OgWlh73tt4ObXVjFS3N7Degs39G7ZtNuaYPnOohXeMtncdbFf43e1ZgQ9A364Ny8pPqAZ4mFmGmvmr-BoMBf88cHQzS9Yw0/s1600/nytitles.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pt5vOmGD8BgRrrUvfaunQ8El2bAcafPDI7RyjPFhsWN5OgWlh73tt4ObXVjFS3N7Degs39G7ZtNuaYPnOohXeMtncdbFf43e1ZgQ9A364Ny8pPqAZ4mFmGmvmr-BoMBf88cHQzS9Yw0/s320/nytitles.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Pax Romanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00951019083510283683noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-76724711478531274932010-11-16T08:20:00.000-08:002010-11-17T06:24:08.482-08:00Friday Night Films: Guess Who's Coming To Dinner (1967)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KGokvcjETgFgoNUDMS-Jw66MtGYmY18Yu08L5J5jmelDgh2-BFZA8wDxm6tfqLA9Aa6JJjNA4jJbLbYO34DAfAWw5yQfE1VW85Xyhe_mnNwk16svX7cLZ98GPeXQkLrqbsrs7WHtRSZe/s1600/guess-whos-coming-to-dinner.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540522349835432002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 345px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 395px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KGokvcjETgFgoNUDMS-Jw66MtGYmY18Yu08L5J5jmelDgh2-BFZA8wDxm6tfqLA9Aa6JJjNA4jJbLbYO34DAfAWw5yQfE1VW85Xyhe_mnNwk16svX7cLZ98GPeXQkLrqbsrs7WHtRSZe/s400/guess-whos-coming-to-dinner.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>I had a hankering to watch a Sidney Poitier film ever since learning about his groundbreaking Oscar win for <em>Lillies of the Field</em> in 1963. My allegiance to Poitier was strong, as I had loved him ever since I saw <em>Sneakers</em> at a young age--completely unaware of the history and legacy that had preceded him. This weekend while choosing between <em>To Sir With Love</em> and <em>Guess Who's Coming To Dinner</em>, we settled on the latter after reading the extensive cinematic history behind the film. </div><br /><div>The film was completed just 17 days before Spencer Tracy died. Katharine Hepburn ended up even using her salary as backing in order to make the movie, as the studio didn't think Tracy would make it to the end of filming. Hepburn's tears at the end of the film during Tracy's pivotal speech were in fact real tears, a relieved feeling of accomplishment, and a deep sadness evident in knowing that this would be his last film---and their last film as a pair. </div><br /><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540346902746111506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyucUtB4c0P5Sisk3wUe3sHttH9Wr2l2EGcQU5tZYtmpvx1sSl8Uo6QhJcBV0u3WzlhdixBQJ3Q7OL8iDpJmhBVR0ZwriatRjNx3FUz1kj5WpffFHVbKWOS6w6yNAE4jpVv-1m2RFceVV/s400/ishot-2310.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /><div>These back stories remained fresh in my mind as I settled in to finally see what I had spent all day reading up on. </div><br /><div><em>Guess Who's Coming to Dinner</em> is an interesting film to watch now. On the one hand it's embarrassing to undergo the blatant racism exuding from almost all of the characters. On the other it provides an interesting commentary on why people get so uppity about marriage and further more--why they shouldn't. I kept wondering if the film was made today, would it take on the current problems surrounding the country involving gay marriage? Would the next generation sit down to watch it and exclaim in wonder at how they can't believe that at one point, gay marriage was illegal, the way that I couldn't believe interracial marriage was also? It's an interesting thing to think about, but perhaps most importantly, I think many of the themes are still relevant, especially Spencer Tracy's famous speech at the end. </div><br /><div>When it comes down to it, <em>Guess Who's Coming to Dinner</em> really just makes me mad. It's a fine film, but the idea that someone can be prevented from marrying the person they love because of social implications, and the authority that people have over others is just ridiculous. A film like this is in many ways a time capsule, but it is also then a film that reminds us of how stupid we can be sometimes. A film that requires us to witness a transformation of our past view points.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540347048438058242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 237px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisoYqmIp9ZvCUuij3ANU10YwwGGBKRwbt0R8ObFdatJolV50FZOUsJdkei6NfNaJjTDzewcDq8Hwdb_bKbPhsoMmsyJfMdICG_-zXNNtZdArBjDzWGEs7I68tKew-ogYuPNsljj4YY-Xoh/s400/ishot-2307.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /></div><div>Another aggravating point, is that several people have come out and said that making Sidney Poitier's character so respectful, well dressed, and intelligent is racist in itself. They believe that Poitier embodies in essence the character of a white man. One important thing to take note of however is that John Prentice should embody the character of a white man--because that in hindsight is exactly the kind of person the Drayton's want their daughter to marry. John is in many ways, the perfect man for their daughter, in fact he's almost too good for their daughter. Because of this, the idea that the only real thing standing in their way IS the color of his skin, and that is what makes things so infuriating. It's proof that racism is in many ways skin deep. It's for lack of a better word...dumb.</div><div><br /> </div>The film also does a fine job of pointing out how everyone has a prejudice of some kind.<br /><br /><div></div>The African-American cook has a boiling prejudice against men of her own skin color, accusing him of having something else up his sleeve. Her prejudice is an alarming one, as it concerns protecting the little girl she helped raise--but it's also just a surprising form of black on black racism. Tillie is perhaps the most angry at the newly introduced couple, and the look in her eyes is enough to send anyone running, while John merely laughs. Could it be that John himself is holding a prejudice against the fact that a house cook is telling him what to do?<br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540347381886232706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHEwtUDxMnmkA7crELFayeI2wZ1SmLQ3Lu7X_TOSe3R4wNRdfTtLOqE-ltlusHslitq5XymmScWBlC5W-HZyuWwcpcjWGLxo-eA0bHK0qOO-JeR0emdwW6rmj-OijzESLql1dhfcxxXY6/s400/ishot-2303.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>Another form of prejudice is evident when Mr. Drayton gets in the car accident after his random search for ice cream. He backs up without looking, causing him to make quite a dent in a young man's car. A young man who just happens to be black. The young man yells at Mr. Drayton, pinpointing his old age as the cause of the accident. </div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540347203924408114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 224px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYrGGDsAJiWgKr5dPDLK1N0NJSsQ4b_rskGm3UtXwV4_wXEnM3RUuvSV_2LRcPOx-CGd8VrBz77gE2kf30aCR4h-DpyfqFyA5kEg_Mck36rrOLST3Gt9OzVxTIb9Plt-to5d7Q85qi2cp9/s400/ishot-2305.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div>He makes remarks about old people not being able to drive properly, when in all actuality Mr. Drayton just had something else on his mind. Being put in that position however upsets Mr. Drayton, and although he doesn't outwardly show it, we can notice a shift in his perceptions. Being the one that gets unfairly grouped in a stereotype based on his appearance is upsetting to Mr. Drayton, and slowly but surely he starts realizing that doing such a thing is absolutely ludicrous. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>While the film is well done, I still find that the bulk of the praise around it revolves around how groundbreaking the themes are. While this was being filmed, interracial marriage was still illegal in a few states. Seeing Sidney Poitier's character try to talk some sense into his own father, and saying a line like,<br /></div><div><em>"Dad, you're my father. I'm your son. I love you. I always have and I always will. But you think of yourself as a colored man. I think of myself as a man. "</em></div><br /><div>was epic. I mean, moments like that where characters say something that is so dead on just make you want to shout from the highest peak....YES! The same goes for Spencer Tracy's final speech in which he ends with the idea that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. What matters is how John and Joanna feel about each other--is so simple yet something that people continue to ignore. It's something that will continue to baffle me and although the film was an enjoyable one to watch, laden with fantastic performances and the chronically weepy eyes of Katharine Hepburn--I will always be drawn to the revolutionary way that this film presents the idea of marriage. Call it dated if you want to, but I will continue to disagree. Especially in this day and age when a person's right to marry someone they love is still being challenged.<br /></div><div></div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540347309024611394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2EBGFG-_AxjTwr-MTD9hD657-c_TJiakg-WcnHvIGXqEbiPO2Li2Dg6UwrdHDyD9_RQBgnhr4LZSFRj6yAv_eBJN9HAfMouDQg_SSF53btNl6cuCiAUbPIH2v-iQiHDYl3NxfQOqFdmV/s400/ishot-2302.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div></div>Andrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05429322588091791426noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-4426640365380380112010-11-07T17:39:00.000-08:002010-11-09T15:15:34.971-08:00Friday Night Films: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPq4hAEZyyg263vbrZD7yEb1ML6KManQEr5_Ixmzf-o2A1DLWrj4fGpv3pOGrPQx9tJx4bc6l1_-7sqtjFIWfleqA3GLyXpdphnH_gHtXZRjIJ6_zBw31bM_PnQ-bC5nJG4q2avDmqvgp/s1600/ishot-2201.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPq4hAEZyyg263vbrZD7yEb1ML6KManQEr5_Ixmzf-o2A1DLWrj4fGpv3pOGrPQx9tJx4bc6l1_-7sqtjFIWfleqA3GLyXpdphnH_gHtXZRjIJ6_zBw31bM_PnQ-bC5nJG4q2avDmqvgp/s400/ishot-2201.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537203858325487202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsx4mmgWEzkwPemqS6F_YRILyK70hs_JE0aXUz_hrTC8K1ZjURAGcZ9OAcTBwf8i100hK-ex9O7r6w-vjSiJVXueO1FHRcLluVvRY4eLma4zQAs5cuyzQf2FnEXWCnDLnH5to8bFFJZ5cV/s1600/ishot-2212.jpg"></a>This week our movie night was switched to Sunday. I didn't mind so much as I had finally convinced my sister that we should watch Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I had watched the movie for the first time in a high school class entitled "Music in Movies" and became instantly infatuated with the witty and sarcastic quips of Paul Newman and Robert Redford's camaraderie. I had unsuccessfully tried a few times to convince my sister to watch this while it was being played on TV. She had expressed doubts that she was not a huge fan of Westerns. I can agree in a way, as Westerns are also one of my least favorite genres. However, I had pleaded with her to give it a chance--it wasn't <i>really</i> a Western after all, more of a buddy comedy disguised in Western clothing. <div><br />
</div><div>During this viewing I became aware of several things I had never given much thought to before. I was moved by the breathtakingly artistic shots at the beginning of the film. Paul Newman's face seemingly glowing thanks to the sepia tones. </div><div><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6KhCSWa_ZZ_aga1XhXrwLr0Pgre9TPA3mY1WIEVkRF7svcVSPBrOdMsKtsPwltrikRWfJxxJSFB8de-Xt0hoFU82pcEuiReuL66qsYdwEmBm326M5gvuFLDB2_Z6touvtnICbt_S-0tBF/s400/ishot-2199.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537203682874194818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px; " /></span><div><br />
</div><div>I loved how both their reputations spoke for themselves so simply. It was a perfect way to open the film. Butch Cassidy makes a witty remark about the shame in getting rid of such a beautiful bank, and the Sundance Kid shows off his remarkable gun skills. Two men, two friends, two outlaws---that we love. </div><div><br />
</div><div>This time I was also sensitive to the unfortunate sadness that emerges around Butch and Sundance. Both men are stuck in a cycle--practically addicted to the fine art of bank robbing like a couple of junkies, their lives revolve in a constant circle. Like the lone shot of the bicycle wheel slowly rotating, </div><div><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_3iuA1nyLXmtreqDKt8AySz6l7izRTBrYdAqadGepVLYa4NjXJ0ljryZaUPf398QIROElLR7O0gYxKgvffTyQkwfmNK7Vxs0UEeBHgC9FNgbjtIB49cYZe2xVLl_V745h1ykI6QOeINn/s400/ishot-2205.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537203190877955042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 222px; " /></span><div><br />
</div><div>Butch and Cassidy go from one close call, to the next without ever realizing that it doesn't <i>have</i> to be that way. My sister was annoyed by this fact I think, and so was I in a way now that I think about it. Like all great tragic heroes however, there has to be something that prevents them from having it all. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Another discovery I had made this time around was another sad realization, that Etta was heartbroken. Without knowing whether or not her true heart resided within Sundance or Butch (I think in this case it's safe to assume she did love both of them) we can see that her real heartbreak involves the very same thing that aggravated us. After offering up suggestions of other things they could do besides bank robbing, Sundance and Butch seem to shoot down almost everything, claiming they didn't know how to do it, when really the two fearless outlaws are afraid of a world that does not revolve around robbing banks. They refuse to embrace the new-- the bicycle, and stick to their horses and criminal activity. In the moments that Etta tells the men she'll be going back alone, there is such a beautiful sadness that reads in her eyes. </div><div><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6ZBykvsaJtmL7JjR038gs2XZbzql3xKmZpKk_orh2WF6d3i3qArBmY-z6yXYRsTWAz-bpIRFDpIqhbQl_xqClNFl4HGOKIpI-pzVzBUC8SRsp8tUUsSCyHPyrcb5rpKD0v157mNyDulr/s400/ishot-2208.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537202987897714466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 226px; " /></span><div><br />
</div><div>Back in Wyoming, she had told them that there was only one thing she would not do, and that is see them die. In this moment, Etta understands that they will never change, and because of it they will sooner or later end up dead and she cannot bare to witness it. In some ways however, she already has, and perhaps that is where the true sadness forms. </div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCr9UgFX75Vf1ngAojId4lSxdXbVDrNibJNLlgcMZpEH21xCXKoFOvfjmPww9o9Zwwhha-yKzr9wFmtEg9KG0Ak2f9aoq90GCLjM0jJBBrdk5Gtvkhx-Kp9UBJtTKrPwnSnDUBb3epQVDY/s400/ishot-2202.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537203476062267890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px; " /></span></div><div><br />
</div><div>In this viewing, I really felt for Etta. Not solely because I was now keen enough to realize that Katharine Ross was from both <i>The Graduate</i> and <i>The Stepford Wives</i>, but because she was such an interesting character I had never given much thought to before. In a very male driven story, Etta--the only female in the film not associated with a brothel, is surprisingly gutsy, smart and driven. She even becomes a vital part of their bank robbing plans in Bolivia, and demands that they learn their Spanish before trying anything stupid. Etta Place was something that Butch and Sundance truly valued but in they end they valued their outlaw status more.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Overall <i>Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</i> is one entertaining piece of film. There's so much to feel good about, that it seems odd we are able to laugh and smile even in Butch and Sundance's lowest moments. Even in times where it looks like their luck has run out we can still feel happy because they make it so. Their camaraderie has inspired a wealth of buddy comedies, acting as a foundation for many of the best comedic duos we see today. They are the ultimate example of the complexities of relating to the bad guy. Our perceptions of who is good and who is bad is greatly altered in the film. We despise the lawmen, the civil righters, the people that obey the law--and we idolize, and cherish two bank robbers. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Even in their last moments we find that it's hard to hold back a smile. Bleeding, pale and just barely defeated (but not quite) Butch Cassidy still has his charms.</div><div><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTutuW0HDsGm2ADKx_3wqmxbgsMfZpgpQVgO0v8Jtf31VJ7nab2W2W4yP8O-QO0AL5g7q0h78NVNj-IF2MHRyp-mpotJDxWx9bXACI5hTfIt-LkxmiWHlqOUevRS0SMc69Zo0cfQe38xVN/s400/ishot-2209.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537202852439577058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 242px; " /></span><div></div><div>The two make plans about their next destination, all the while unaware of the Calvary's arrival outside. It's a genius moment of dramatic irony, and while it doesn't seem likely that the two will survive, we still hold onto that shred of hope. In that last freeze frame, we don't see them die, which in turn keeps them alive in our minds. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid--two criminals, two heroes, two men that stole our hearts, and everything that comes in between. </div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsx4mmgWEzkwPemqS6F_YRILyK70hs_JE0aXUz_hrTC8K1ZjURAGcZ9OAcTBwf8i100hK-ex9O7r6w-vjSiJVXueO1FHRcLluVvRY4eLma4zQAs5cuyzQf2FnEXWCnDLnH5to8bFFJZ5cV/s400/ishot-2212.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537202733749701330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 195px; " /></span></div>Andrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05429322588091791426noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-52666359468958909452010-11-06T17:12:00.001-07:002010-11-08T07:00:23.328-08:00Obsessed with Doubt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlIFhTjTngHfKNS6CmhgZngeA1R0DBTWZViu3twpPvagLxRt31qHxdn5X0epsZRVpRrneqrKnJylgP_9rIgaGNhBFvKA6GT_kKf6F499jjoxB78l-eM3e55HzH0BTvAEthLVwnixi2qM/s1600/doubtteaseredit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlIFhTjTngHfKNS6CmhgZngeA1R0DBTWZViu3twpPvagLxRt31qHxdn5X0epsZRVpRrneqrKnJylgP_9rIgaGNhBFvKA6GT_kKf6F499jjoxB78l-eM3e55HzH0BTvAEthLVwnixi2qM/s200/doubtteaseredit.jpg" width="136" /></a></div>I am obsessed with <b>John Patrick Shanley’s </b>film version of his play, <b><i>Doubt</i></b>. Shanley wrote the piece, adapted it for film, and directed as well. I suppose he is just as obsessed. <br />
<br />
My fascination with this film began a little over a year ago when I first rented the DVD. By the time the end credits were rolling, I was ready to restart the film and watch it again. At first, my reason for another viewing was to see if maybe I had missed something; some plot point that cleared up the ambiguity of the story’s denouement. At least that’s what I told myself.<br />
<br />
The second viewing actually took place a day or two later. It was a Saturday morning, very early. I settled in on the sofa and sipped a mug of coffee and found myself again mesmerized by this strange and fascinating tale of an avenging Mother Superior who goes toe to toe with an alleged pedophile priest. <br />
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Set in the late fall / early winter of 1964, <b><i>Doubt</i></b> takes place at an inner-city Catholic grade school where Sister Aloysius Beauvier (<b>Meryl Streep</b>) rules the roost like some kind of Ninja in a black bonnet. Sister Aloysius is not fond of ball point pens, candy, sugar, berets or long fingernails. She strikes fear into the hearts of her students as well as the rest of the nuns who teach at the school. More that that, she’s also not afraid to physically discipline her charges. Her only fear seems to be the winds of change that are blowing around her (both figuratively and literally), and she holds on with an iron grip to the past as she sees societal changes slowly creeping into her own cloistered existence.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI-qBVdWv5IiGlFx6uGFFoyU700pK-HgY_f4p6pUADbV0Hd9FuS7aLJaJnAsB-en_5_1LTtGkoqujr7dY6DKwhC2ft2IApjP37LCq2jiX60_dn1CRit7BjEpGIkjtVUabUyyTIjuNXlZc/s1600/doubt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI-qBVdWv5IiGlFx6uGFFoyU700pK-HgY_f4p6pUADbV0Hd9FuS7aLJaJnAsB-en_5_1LTtGkoqujr7dY6DKwhC2ft2IApjP37LCq2jiX60_dn1CRit7BjEpGIkjtVUabUyyTIjuNXlZc/s320/doubt3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Amongst the darkly clad nuns, and the solemn faced children at Saint Nicholas is Father Flynn (<b>Phillip Seymour Hoffman</b>), a smiling, seemingly gentle, obviously personable, and very popular priest who treats the children kindly and often offers them words of advice. When he witnesses Sister Aloysius calling a boy out of line for some transgression, he murmurs to a novitiate, “The dragon is hungry!” Father is also not afraid to shake things up on the pulpit, as is witnessed in a very early scene where he gives a sermon on the topic of doubt which he concludes, “can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty.”<br />
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A young nun, Sister James (<b>Amy Adams</b>) is also a teacher at the school, and while it is obvious that she wants to impress Sister Aloysius, she’s also more concerned with teaching her students than terrifying them. Strangely enough, though Sister James appears the most innocent of the three main characters, her actions are what set in to motion the film’s story.<br />
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One afternoon, Sister James notices something that she finds suspicious concerning the school’s only African American student, Donald Miller (<b>Joseph Foster</b>), and Father Flynn. Once she reports her suspicions to Sister Aloysius, Pandora’s box opens and no matter what she might try to do to close it up again, Sister James can not.<br />
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<b><i>Doubt</i></b> deals with very a delicate, but very timely, subject matter; the sexual abuse of a minor at the hands of a Catholic priest. And while it might seem a simple leap for the viewer to believe this accusation against Father Flynn…well, as <b>Ringo Starr</b> once said, “It don’t come easy”. Indeed, my obsession with this film is partially based on my looking for clues as to the priest’s guilt or innocence. And that’s just it – there are no real clues, no witnesses, just a strong suspicion and whatever baggage the viewer brings to the table. Personally, I find myself flipping back and forth every time I view this film. One minute, every outrageous accusation that Sister Aloysius throws at Father Flynn makes perfect sense, then later, it just seems like she’s got some sort of hidden agenda, and maybe Sister James was right when she said to her, “You just don't like him! You don't like it that he uses a ballpoint pen. You don't like it that he takes 3 lumps of sugar in his tea. You don't like it that he likes Frosty the Snowman and you are letting that convince you of something that's terrible... Just terrible...”<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgw0JZRenySux93M0HZl7THLL33BwxIr2HEOr8gMKYuOiF8qfjHMcj1QDJ64zYN7wpC_t0KIFFsD1Q2DAc7GSBCy0egzgmveM11mmVoqkft6p6S5UBBQjEDfosXqIMmteWtFonuN8h3k/s1600/doubt4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSgw0JZRenySux93M0HZl7THLL33BwxIr2HEOr8gMKYuOiF8qfjHMcj1QDJ64zYN7wpC_t0KIFFsD1Q2DAc7GSBCy0egzgmveM11mmVoqkft6p6S5UBBQjEDfosXqIMmteWtFonuN8h3k/s400/doubt4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Another thing about <b><i>Doubt</i></b> that I obsess over, are the performances. There is not one flat acting note in this film – even the linear characters ring true. Hell, even the school is a character – a Gothic sort of haunted house where light bulbs blow out over the heads of authority figures, and windows are found mysteriously open during wind and rain storms. That said, it’s the three principal leads (and one brief but brilliant moment by a supporting actress) that make <b><i>Doubt </i></b>so damn compelling.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoD-0hpZb2skR0QO0nDij3GT52FH5Q12jJ897zrZTKtNJ2xK8LL8yGBHvkz193vdwp7Ikr4vMXzwfV2G0opLk-0B0sI4ezDg-EkUZvF3sJ2n_DgLfgueTov8z9YnH1Qo2kw1kRAs-d8o/s1600/doubt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZoD-0hpZb2skR0QO0nDij3GT52FH5Q12jJ897zrZTKtNJ2xK8LL8yGBHvkz193vdwp7Ikr4vMXzwfV2G0opLk-0B0sI4ezDg-EkUZvF3sJ2n_DgLfgueTov8z9YnH1Qo2kw1kRAs-d8o/s400/doubt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Meryl Streep inhabits Sister Aloysius and infuses her with such ferocity that it’s downright terrifying. Our first introduction to her is as she’s silently gliding down a church aisle during mass quietly but sternly reprimanding the children in the pews – and even slapping one boy on the side of his head (and if you spent anytime in Catholic school during the 60’s or 70’s you know that sort of thing was the norm). With her wire rim glasses and black bonnet habit, Streep is a pale, cold vision of anger and disgruntlement – a woman who could only find a way to voice her frustrations at life’s injustices to women by hiding her femininity behind an iron tunic (we discover at one point, that before she joined the order she was married and her husband was killed in World War II). What’s also fascinating about Streep’s characterization is the way she finds occasional moments to infuse some sarcastic humor into the role. Indeed, some of – in fact all of – Doubt’s brief comic moments come courtesy of Sister Aloysius. Finally, for all her bluster and bravado, Streep makes it quite clear that her Sister Aloysius is also a woman terrified of the changes coming . She senses them all around her, and wants no part of them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilwgO9s38kbc_1IaqMA64dgVtRiDMBt3WoVjz7iu28l-tRKXfuH2YPPBVEKmm2Uv3NAEcCXLN4HZ3m2fj_YPhymladb5VqFqhs9MVVj8lgiDZMHCGh8318UnGer9CaD5LSIFnE8rAU_E/s1600/doubt5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiilwgO9s38kbc_1IaqMA64dgVtRiDMBt3WoVjz7iu28l-tRKXfuH2YPPBVEKmm2Uv3NAEcCXLN4HZ3m2fj_YPhymladb5VqFqhs9MVVj8lgiDZMHCGh8318UnGer9CaD5LSIFnE8rAU_E/s400/doubt5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Phillip Seymour Hoffman plays Father Flynn as such a likable character, it’s almost impossible to believe he could do anything wrong, let alone molest a young boy. And yet, maybe that’s the genius of his performance. His monster , his wolf, is wrapped so tight in sheep's clothing, most can not see through it. But watch the film more than once and maybe you see the mask slipping (why does that one boy flinch when ever Father comes near him – <i>in fact keep an eye on the boy called William London (<b>Mike Roukis</b>), he seems to be the wild card in this tale, you have to watch the film several times to see what I mean</i>- why are Father’s fingernails long and almost claw-like, and, most importantly, why does he not go down without a fight?). Hoffman’s Flynn is so beguiling, because he is so hard to pin down.<br />
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Amy Adams take on Sister James could easily be overlooked, but that’s because she plays the young teaching nun so effortlessly. Adams gives this character heart and a conscience. She’s still feeling her way through the world of teaching and the convent life, she still seems to actually care for the children she teaches. I think Adams really shines in the one scene where, disgusted at herself for the trouble she might be causing, she mimics Sister Aloysius and starts berating one of her students. Later on you can see how heartbroken she is for her actions.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkeAwi_3U2YlMJyOWWNN7tNnlCTOwm2Yc7FNXvMKWfpSTmoeUcktgeT-DBbL0JlD6o6ehSgONG-A_Zu7o_sqxOpmZR3qFOyEgn6vlLBYY9Up8BnktewNb4gTKyoJysKIIAljPSGyXMF28/s1600/doubt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkeAwi_3U2YlMJyOWWNN7tNnlCTOwm2Yc7FNXvMKWfpSTmoeUcktgeT-DBbL0JlD6o6ehSgONG-A_Zu7o_sqxOpmZR3qFOyEgn6vlLBYY9Up8BnktewNb4gTKyoJysKIIAljPSGyXMF28/s400/doubt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Of course there is not much that can be said about <b>Viola Davis</b> and her performance as Mrs. Miller. How astounding it is, that this woman who is on screen for all of maybe fifteen minutes (acting against Streep), almost steals the movie and tucks it neatly under her arm. Davis turns Mrs. Miller into a loving mother, desperate to make a better life for her son, and if that means sacrificing his innocence, so be it. And while that may sound cold, all one has to do is watch her performance and it’s very clear that her motives are pure. <br />
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Another reason I am obsessed with <b><i>Doubt</i></b> is due to what I call “The Showdown Scene”. This is the moment of the movie when Streep and Hoffman’s characters face off – it is a masters class in acting. It’s also a brutal moment when it is hard to tell exactly who is really the bad guy. This is when Sister Aloysius proclaims that she has no proof, but that she does have her “certainty” and then, looking both crazed and defiant, clutching her crucifix like it might be a dagger she screams at the priest,”I will step outside the church if that's what needs to be done, till the door should shut behind me! I will do what needs to be done, though I'm damned to Hell! You should understand that, or you will mistake me. “ Clearly this is woman with a rather large axe to grind. So when Father Flynn looks defeated, I ask myself is it because he’s guilty, or is it because he’s up against such an angry, unbalanced adversary who is willing to go to the police. Maybe it was just easier for him to walk away, than risk public humiliation. <br />
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But in the end, Father Flynn does leave – reassigned to another parish (with a promotion!) and by now the viewer might be willing to believe that he was up to no good, that Sister Aloysius did have the goods on him after all (she tells him at one point that she spoke to a nun at his last church). But then we discover that was a lie. And in the film's waning moments, we start to ask ourselves what went on. If that’s not enough, in the final scene, Sister Aloysius is sitting with Sister Jane on a bench in the dead of winter and the Mother Superior breaks down in tears, once more clutching that crucifix like a dagger, but then hiding it under her tunic and sobs, “Oh sister, I have doubts. I have such doubts!” That’s when I usually scream, “<i>About what? His guilt, your faith in God, the way your run the school, your life’s profession</i>?” And then I tell myself, I am going to have to watch this movie again, maybe then I’ll figure it out.<br />
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Who knows, maybe I never will.Pax Romanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00951019083510283683noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-14682095041771922322010-11-06T14:30:00.000-07:002010-11-07T11:05:49.469-08:00Signals From Left Field: Big Trouble In Little China (1986)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2bD6TTZl5Yl3DAA4Zrr9s5de9Wnb9OGh-Oqrqrzx03FKT8P3GkwuxP0GutSTbDMwEe5gYFh_CmTp0-V38WIb4yZJNDzp_y4FZfNmIfZ2pIPcov1J-973MPOnVwAjvXjILmh5w8oCrhqg/s1600/big-trouble-in-little-china.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2bD6TTZl5Yl3DAA4Zrr9s5de9Wnb9OGh-Oqrqrzx03FKT8P3GkwuxP0GutSTbDMwEe5gYFh_CmTp0-V38WIb4yZJNDzp_y4FZfNmIfZ2pIPcov1J-973MPOnVwAjvXjILmh5w8oCrhqg/s320/big-trouble-in-little-china.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536616348624746658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">From Left Field? Just like many of the films I'll discuss, many of the choices I make might come "from left field." I like quirky as much I as like cake, and that's a whole lot, so I hope you enjoy my look at cult, semi-cult, and whatever movie strikes my fancy at any given time. And away we go with my first choice...</span><br /><br />When I first saw John Carpenter's underrated gem of an action-comedy-martial arts-fantasy flick, <span style="font-style: italic;">Big Trouble In Little China</span>, I was a student majoring in Amateur Party-Attending and Alcohol Consumption at Central Michigan University, circa 1987. It was a Saturday night, and I stumbled into my dorm sometime after midnight. Merrill Hall was good about having movies to watch in the commons room on Saturdays, and as my eyes adjusted to the non-smoky, bright interior of the dorm lobby, this is the wondrous sight they saw:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VGLinT-Pdyo?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VGLinT-Pdyo?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />The stunning alley fight that establishes the line between good and evil, and puts our hero Jack Burton (Kurt Russell) in the thick of the strangest adventure that involves magic, demi-gods, and modernized Chinese mythology - that was it...I was drawn in and would never leave this movie's warm and goofy embrace.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Big Trouble In Little China</span> is director John Carpenter's true cult film. <span style="font-style: italic;">Halloween</span> may be his incredible debut and a study in suspense that would make Alfred Hitchcock jealous, but this 1986 tribute to true adventure and Hong Kong action films didn't fare as well at the box office. You'd think it would've done better, as nearly everyone I know loves the movie. But, in reality, it's just that my closest friends and I tend to like the same movies, and so when I ask a "movie non-buff" if they like it, I usually get a shrug and/or a blank look. <span style="font-style: italic;">Halloween</span> usually gets more of a response.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsInKDgCc4jdumwXnBeIWFEIKVxFe1NRwrXtLu-Rt6WQo-glEs8Tahxy0BtaAtpadS9P_QBjW4kIVcYoExlHCcUF8Ad8Aljaf_yoPu8XpmuNuMsWec0rhNgzlysRKuEz_9SkUGqTe-IE/s1600/big_trouble_in_little_china_xl_01-film-a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPsInKDgCc4jdumwXnBeIWFEIKVxFe1NRwrXtLu-Rt6WQo-glEs8Tahxy0BtaAtpadS9P_QBjW4kIVcYoExlHCcUF8Ad8Aljaf_yoPu8XpmuNuMsWec0rhNgzlysRKuEz_9SkUGqTe-IE/s320/big_trouble_in_little_china_xl_01-film-a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536616066823043202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">"Seinfeld, four!"</span><br /></div><br />Haven't seen it? Here's a quick rundown: egotistical yet philosophical trucker Burton and his buddy, Wang Chi (Dennis Dun), run afoul of local bad guy David Lo Pan (James Hong) who turns out to be a cursed demi-god in search of a Chinese girl with green eyes so that he can become human again. As a result, Jack loses his truck and Wang loses his girlfriend to Lo Pan and his admittedly kick-ass henchmen, the Three Storms who possess the names and powers of rain, thunder, and lightning. Enlisting the help of a group of good-guy warriors and tour guide/sorcerer Egg Shen (the great Victor Wong - you've seen him in <span style="font-style: italic;">Tremors</span>), Jack and Wang storm Lo Pan's vast underground world to rescue Wang's girlfriend and intrepid reporter Gracie Law (Kim Cattrall, thankfully pre-<span style="font-style: italic;">Sex In The City</span>). What follows can be described as John Wayne meets the dark side of Oz in a crazy battle underneath Chinatown.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwJrtxX2Bz7JwynpDNcNq3pokDMwqlclCqk3PxAq7bet4BnvgtiaH0N01paumUdksPA4qxogBTHpftFez5Fh88wYWhG4Mt67FZIH0bLVRu3X_1IQIz6K4IrwnaP7MmGyFavrUk03W114/s1600/big_trouble_in_little_china_01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwJrtxX2Bz7JwynpDNcNq3pokDMwqlclCqk3PxAq7bet4BnvgtiaH0N01paumUdksPA4qxogBTHpftFez5Fh88wYWhG4Mt67FZIH0bLVRu3X_1IQIz6K4IrwnaP7MmGyFavrUk03W114/s320/big_trouble_in_little_china_01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536615051708883474" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Big Trouble In Little China</span> always reminds of me what it's like to have fun watching a movie. You could describe the film as "good dumb fun," but really, there's nothing dumb about it. The hero is immensely likable, the villain is appropriately over-the-top, and the pure fantasy facets of the movie tell you screw reality and sit back to enjoy the ride. It looks good; there's a rich palette of colors, enhanced by neon and bright but unobtrusive special effects. It sounds good; Carpenter's minimalist score - as usual - fits with the action on the screen, and the <span style="font-style: italic;">whooshes </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">crackles</span> of the battle scenes cartwheel out of your speakers.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53lcFqfjMTIQzS0dBuCtJ8CR6pKk5EzG8-Cqkn7gX_hGMk0HyfHuLvivSKrszuSjuJ1z3S73Ii1U_2ufFdDtXvEjiWbdDsmwm308hJAVKKobV2Q2wb3J-BlMVk8nOB9xWgcd5zR0A1cc/s1600/big-trouble-little-china+3+storms.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53lcFqfjMTIQzS0dBuCtJ8CR6pKk5EzG8-Cqkn7gX_hGMk0HyfHuLvivSKrszuSjuJ1z3S73Ii1U_2ufFdDtXvEjiWbdDsmwm308hJAVKKobV2Q2wb3J-BlMVk8nOB9xWgcd5zR0A1cc/s320/big-trouble-little-china+3+storms.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536614797139077618" border="0" /></a><br />One of the little details I loved about the movie is the hint of a wider world than we actually see. Yes, there's the actual story, but there are strong clues that this battle of good (the Chang Sing gang) and evil (the Wing Kong gang) has been raging for centuries. And not only the battle itself, but the characters as well, especially Egg Shen and Lo Pan.<br /><br />When discussing his search for a green-eyed woman, Lo Pan remarks <span style="font-style: italic;">"There have been others, to be sure. There are always others, are there not?"</span> Maybe there have been other adventures, other heroes that have thwarted Lo Pan with Egg's help. Hmm. We definitely know Egg and Lo Pan have crossed paths before, and Egg isn't just a lovable, kooky local magician. When Lo Pan tells the Three Storms that Egg is leading the band of heroes, the Storms give each other a fearful look. Egg apparently already has either faced them, or has carved out a reputation for himself battling other demons. And there's a telling exchange between the two adversaries during the climactic battle scene, as they battle to a magical stalemate, and Lo Pan brags, "<span style="font-style: italic;">You never could beat me, Egg Shen."</span><br /><br />When a movie, no matter how much in the "big dumb fun" niche it is, stirs the imagination of my childhood and causes me to dream up my own continuing stories (I always called mine <span style="font-style: italic;">More Trouble In Little China</span> - don't judge)...then it will win my heart. <span style="font-style: italic;">Big Trouble In Little China</span> won my heart in 1987 on that post-party, not-entirely-sober Saturday night in Mount Pleasant, Michigan, and has kept it for 23 years and counting. Although Carpenter has made a number of my favorite films, such as the aforementioned <span style="font-style: italic;">Halloween</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">They Live</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Prince of Darkness</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Thing</span>, this movie - this true definition of a "romp" - remains my favorite of the bunch.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-YkvkQ_vmU5ApqRvUl4SR5kICxByxZrPsAFR-tIawZYHTeWHeNBniFeE-uKWUexIg10J7WofnNzscnAq2p3Bj0uw9n3k4VC2WWAcDiNlSy-jtydHL1-MCsNc-x1G2gYLsKP01rZGAco/s1600/big+trouble+in+little+china+haha.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-YkvkQ_vmU5ApqRvUl4SR5kICxByxZrPsAFR-tIawZYHTeWHeNBniFeE-uKWUexIg10J7WofnNzscnAq2p3Bj0uw9n3k4VC2WWAcDiNlSy-jtydHL1-MCsNc-x1G2gYLsKP01rZGAco/s320/big+trouble+in+little+china+haha.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536614362204055378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">"ROMP!"<br /><br /></span></div>Enjoy, and remember to bring the popcorn.Dodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13555228849584962346noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-618832082444968102010-11-01T09:10:00.000-07:002010-11-08T08:24:41.789-08:00Friday Night Films: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966)<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJY6IDcfRHar6zq942hG8i_Blhwib5NEnTCKXe95sztiZdZjfQRl5FCxZ7RDv-nWP-y6a1o0Uxts9s9r3y3W9hxUTle8ZoQ7x7Edw0jH3xg9HomBTBsHdxAMBdxGlYs8juqOEOWTgKr9j/s1600/george.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Wgi3R041vbtKqCQbtNZapZqxGBB5213qBhLSPhZD7NSvLyMZRvBNsBOtJS5G_iSDXFw9_hE-lkvbn_9NZMne3JnnrzZg78bdozRCg3k8ynI6CXj0ejZ_Af6jB201hl9VZcrA1h1ljFDE/s1600/whos-afraid-of-virginia-woolf-4-richard-burton-elizabeth-taylor-martha-george.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPXsO5pQTL0lPhAXnenenHymk-myt50a1ZwU5IxEkKGsbk8t97WhRErQTZdPFW-efkgE8kly8DLYGokM2k1K62slcw5_MztXeOH1WferxRmhnPV22HpeMGjZUWdDKHd_WrmEBkNspGuUj/s1600/whosafraid460.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfzI-GK4kwURpu-6TShT0LyiNl9Ajbov8vCcHxArwyxHHZsAjYn9I3LFyQF3PalGibWBoaeywdJ7tdctRqgFf3wU9s4MD3ybXRBu3lqq2zeY52rGxX47_NV-9t6QDHKE5bUQuRcIDS8bj/s1600/Whos_Afraid_Virginia_Woolf.jpg"><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfzI-GK4kwURpu-6TShT0LyiNl9Ajbov8vCcHxArwyxHHZsAjYn9I3LFyQF3PalGibWBoaeywdJ7tdctRqgFf3wU9s4MD3ybXRBu3lqq2zeY52rGxX47_NV-9t6QDHKE5bUQuRcIDS8bj/s400/Whos_Afraid_Virginia_Woolf.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534615218365373522" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><p style="text-align: justify;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">My sister and I have begun a new tradition in our apartment. Every Friday night we resist the temptation to visit some over crowded, smelly bar and instead we watch a Classic movie. I’m not exactly an expert on what classifies a Classic film so forgive me if our selections aren’t quite classic enough for you. Just know that these films are typically seen and adored by people who call themselves film fans and for one reason or another I have suspiciously avoided seeing them. Whether this is due to my non-stop horror movie watching or because I detest really long movies, remains to be seen. But know this, every week you’ll be getting a fancy review of the latest movie watched at the Dumas household and oh how lucky you are. </span></span></i></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Last week we settled in to watch </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> (1966). I admit to having avoided it simply because I had heard of its dark and depressing themes and how “heavy” it was. In fact we had plans to watch it the week before, only to switch it at the last minute for something more light hearted. When I was reminded by the synopsis on Netflix that our two main characters were George and Martha, I was immediately brought back to my childhood. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheJY6IDcfRHar6zq942hG8i_Blhwib5NEnTCKXe95sztiZdZjfQRl5FCxZ7RDv-nWP-y6a1o0Uxts9s9r3y3W9hxUTle8ZoQ7x7Edw0jH3xg9HomBTBsHdxAMBdxGlYs8juqOEOWTgKr9j/s400/george.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534616286530958386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 352px; height: 400px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">The George and Martha series by James Marshall was a staple of my literary repertoire growing up. Due to this, I could never listen to excerpts from the play or read anything about the film without picturing two very fat hippos trying to outdo one another. As it so happens, James Marshall came up with the idea for the series while his mother was watching </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">. This of course means that he based his lovable characters on the dastardly and at times disturbing duo. After seeing the film, I couldn’t imagine that Marshall would want to use these two as models for a children’s book largely based around teaching morality lessons. I emailed my Mom and asked her to send me one of the George and Martha books for research. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">What I found was that I was continuously raising my eyebrows during any moments that suggested George was less of a man. One story in particular depicts George as boasting about diving off the high dive. Once at the top however, George starts to panic. Martha than proceeds to climb the high dive and jumps off, while George sneaks off the ladder while everyone is distracted by Martha’s giant splash. Despite the book obviously catering towards a more light hearted level of fun and games, I can’t help but be secretly put off by George and Martha. Were their constant games in the book just warm up for when they bashed each others faults relentlessly in front of strangers? Was Martha secretly an alcoholic who had a soft spot for younger men? I had so many concerns about the two lovable hippos now that I had been exposed to their inspiration. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPXsO5pQTL0lPhAXnenenHymk-myt50a1ZwU5IxEkKGsbk8t97WhRErQTZdPFW-efkgE8kly8DLYGokM2k1K62slcw5_MztXeOH1WferxRmhnPV22HpeMGjZUWdDKHd_WrmEBkNspGuUj/s400/whosafraid460.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534615332364511058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Watching </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">is like renting Showgirls with your grandmother by accident. You just feel embarrassed, and you feel trapped--but also it’s very difficult to look away. It’s the very embodiment of watching a gruesome wreckage after a car accident. It’s a film that takes you on one of the wildest rides in emotional roller coaster history, causing laughter and fits of silliness one minute then plunging you down into a state of depression the next. What is that we can take away from a film as heavy as this? To be honest I’m not entirely sure. I had misgivings about even writing on </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">because I wasn’t even sure that I did understand it. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Wgi3R041vbtKqCQbtNZapZqxGBB5213qBhLSPhZD7NSvLyMZRvBNsBOtJS5G_iSDXFw9_hE-lkvbn_9NZMne3JnnrzZg78bdozRCg3k8ynI6CXj0ejZ_Af6jB201hl9VZcrA1h1ljFDE/s400/whos-afraid-of-virginia-woolf-4-richard-burton-elizabeth-taylor-martha-george.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534615520491418658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 289px; " /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I understood that much of it was beautifully shot, and that Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor were simply amazing in their roles. I understood the implications that Martha may have been barren, and how cruel George’s last game really was. But then I also understood how continuously cruel Martha was to George. Through all that she had done, the second that the “child” gets brought up, means that George is immediately seen as the bad guy? Or perhaps that’s just what I felt although that may not have been what it meant. Nevertheless, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> is an extremely difficult film to watch. It stands miles apart from the likes of “torture porn” movies and causes you to understand what the term “disturbing” truly means.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">I’m glad that I finally got to see it, but still find that I’m grappling with what it all really means. Does it have a larger meaning? Or are we meant to simply stare at its level of sheer horror while we unsuccessfully try to wipe its horror from our minds? I think I’ll stick to children’s books. </span></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:12px;"><br /></span></span></div></span>Andrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05429322588091791426noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-53819012623268686002010-10-29T21:36:00.000-07:002010-10-29T22:01:40.536-07:0052 Perfect Movies: The Odd Couple (1968)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvonxQD-rjr9cFLNO_7XrT-7-kFOxaZmxKU76RqOuFnI2c6SiJAqHZRdz6fUq6B7hFScF-wA3xU0Cms3_2aZHeClnyisBro3wzCFk8ZNg5o8HWYN52Qoxo1ygPcXGFebAChPMZ3Oxlzs/s1600/Odd-Couple-Lemmon-Matheau_l.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvonxQD-rjr9cFLNO_7XrT-7-kFOxaZmxKU76RqOuFnI2c6SiJAqHZRdz6fUq6B7hFScF-wA3xU0Cms3_2aZHeClnyisBro3wzCFk8ZNg5o8HWYN52Qoxo1ygPcXGFebAChPMZ3Oxlzs/s320/Odd-Couple-Lemmon-Matheau_l.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533698467202138722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">"Now it's garbage."</span><br /><br />Interestingly enough, when one mentions The Odd Couple, the first thing that comes to the mind of most people is the admittedly amusing 1970s television series starring Jack Klugman and Tony Randall. And while this is not meant as a swipe against that show, it is a shame that it gets more attention than the original play by Neil Simon, which inspired this absolutely classic late 1960s motion picture comedy, featuring one of the finest comedy teams to ever appear on screen.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTgRdHVnIL4f1F-nib-7uW3oGkstXj84VoWqcN1F73Y1ChyoRq3BqCLZTHE7RDQ6NvE78Ye-3c2bT0Zkuaxg-m7E5CcfKwiFH6lGnl7r9YJ7L_jVv4mVNWslJHT_ZJai0p4vAV-l3nfY/s1600/568odd.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieTgRdHVnIL4f1F-nib-7uW3oGkstXj84VoWqcN1F73Y1ChyoRq3BqCLZTHE7RDQ6NvE78Ye-3c2bT0Zkuaxg-m7E5CcfKwiFH6lGnl7r9YJ7L_jVv4mVNWslJHT_ZJai0p4vAV-l3nfY/s320/568odd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533698653362982994" border="0" /></a>Simply put, The Odd Couple is Neil Simon's funniest and most brilliantly written play. And that's saying quite a bit when talking about one of the greatest humorists and playwrights of the 20th century. Simon is somewhat underrated, as comedy tends to be overshadowed by drama, particularly on the stage. But make no mistake about it, The Odd Couple is a fine piece of writing, filled with witty lines, unforgettable characters and absolutely iconic scenes. It is the kind of comedy that approaches perfection, and that's why it makes this list.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Vie0yFmM9tbSsy_6VSsobx09W8vw_lVkJz7p9pRH60fC28cwOMf4RY4AfHDX7itYnbvKfLpMmqdipvRTSzm_JvGLhfHYkkAlGXORJBnW4kmk_eypy-FePJ9rgOPGgPNHpKQFFGezy4A/s1600/88804041.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Vie0yFmM9tbSsy_6VSsobx09W8vw_lVkJz7p9pRH60fC28cwOMf4RY4AfHDX7itYnbvKfLpMmqdipvRTSzm_JvGLhfHYkkAlGXORJBnW4kmk_eypy-FePJ9rgOPGgPNHpKQFFGezy4A/s320/88804041.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533699072607522946" border="0" /></a>Whoever first thought of putting Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon on screen together deserves some kind of award. Coming along as they did, a bit after the golden age of movie comedy teams, they don't always get the credit they deserve. But they brought a unique chemistry whenever they were together, and it's no wonder they did appear in so many films alongside each other. However, this one if the epitome of them all.<br /><br />Lemmon's Felix Ungar and Matthau's Oscar Madison are so fully realized and play off each other so well, and it's truly a pleasure to behold as they interact with each other. Matthau and Lemmon really brought out the best in each other, not to mention struck the perfect balance of combativeness and actual warm friendship. In spite of all their issues, we know that Oscar and Felix are true friends, and this is as much due to the performances as it is to Simon's writing.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6JkO3XCAN_S-552_sGIcdPGNZYev9L_tvqDz3K5R18TufliZz3EFBHUZoqRN1rpsc8qmQEM1JeHB2L6O1IZoiV9ynefB4SNAFNt5qz9JkjyYIREoD3-xjJOJmC_fWlPL2HnUU3plVgA/s1600/0.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6JkO3XCAN_S-552_sGIcdPGNZYev9L_tvqDz3K5R18TufliZz3EFBHUZoqRN1rpsc8qmQEM1JeHB2L6O1IZoiV9ynefB4SNAFNt5qz9JkjyYIREoD3-xjJOJmC_fWlPL2HnUU3plVgA/s320/0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533699308500827362" border="0" /></a>What's also interesting about this film is that it does not quite give us the happy, pat ending we expect from a film like this. Rather, it challenges us, ending on a note that rings truer with regards to the actual nature of friendship and human relationships than what we might expect given the light-hearted nature of the material. It's in moments like these that it's easy to grasp the vast difference in quality between a film like this, and the safer, more broadly comical TV series it inspired.<br /><br />As if Lemmon and Matthau aren't enough, you have one hell of a supporting cast letting it all hang out here. Veteran character actors John Fiedler and Herb Edelman are excellent as Vinnie and the ubiquitous Murray the Cop. And of course, then we have the hilarious Pigeon sisters, played by Monica Evans and Carole Shelley. Politically correct they are not, but god damn are they funny.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Nuqh0xrhJ0l4FEK-pS5SlOSHhLnjFWRPYm9cgi75Ok0rndmz2v_LAUtmpufTBIbRbc-uY3a5bq0uatRPWCTEeEdYpD-zV5Nqqo8Al_s_k9GfXN60znZeov0JM-gjm5dYWImh_6uxpFs/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Nuqh0xrhJ0l4FEK-pS5SlOSHhLnjFWRPYm9cgi75Ok0rndmz2v_LAUtmpufTBIbRbc-uY3a5bq0uatRPWCTEeEdYpD-zV5Nqqo8Al_s_k9GfXN60znZeov0JM-gjm5dYWImh_6uxpFs/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533699608210797218" border="0" /></a>It's very east to underrate The Odd Couple, or to dismiss it as a simply comedy. Usually the people that do this have not seen it in a while, or perhaps never at all. This is more than just a silly gimmick about a neat guy trying to live with a sloppy guy. It's more than just a very catchy theme song. It's actually a challenging movie about friendship, particularly two friends helping each other through the pain of separation and divorce.<br /><br />And yet it's also laugh-out-loud, hysterically funny. Whether it's Felix' classic "sinus-clearing" scene in the restaurant, or the infamous spaghetti argument, this is timeless stuff--and much of the humor arises out of situations that are realistic and even stressful. This is a comedy that is not afraid to get a bit heavy--after all, one of its protagonists is literally on the verge of suicide. And yet, like some of the greatest of comedies, it uses this tragedy to create something that appeals on several levels.<br /><br />This, in a nutshell, is what makes The Odd Couple work so well. So if you only know Neil Simon's play from the ever-popular TV series, do yourself a favor and check out the movie. You'll be very pleasantly surprised at what you find. Neil Simon was a true commenter on the human condition--and The Odd Couple is his greatest comment.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: Once Upon a Time in the West (1969)</span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-89150975694640050462010-10-28T17:31:00.000-07:002010-10-28T17:31:14.247-07:00A Face in the Crowd: Now More than Ever<div align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><img height="258" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v71/PaxRomano/New/aface.bmp" style="height: 230px; width: 372px;" width="258" /></span></div><div align="center"><b><i><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">one pill makes you dumber</span></span></i></b></div><div align="left"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Elia Kazan’s</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A Face in the Crowd</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I can’t help myself from recommending, urging, and cajoling everyone I know to view this masterpiece; now more than ever its message is a timely one.<br />
</span> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Andy Griffith</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> plays a down on his luck drifter who is discovered by a radio producer (</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Patricia Neal</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">) while he’s cooling his heels in a jail for a drunk and disorderly violation. Neal’s character, </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Marcia Jeffries</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, begins an interview with Griffith’s character, </span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Lonesome Rhodes</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, and within a few minutes it is quite obvious that Rhodes is a natural with his home spun wisdom and his folk singing.<br />
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Soon Rhodes is offered a job at Jeffries’ radio station and he quickly discovers the power of the medium – it seems that Rhodes can tell the masses something - </span> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">anything - </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">and they’ll do it. And just like that, a megalomaniac is born.<br />
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In time, Rhodes is courted by the New York media and is brought to the Big Apple to star in a TV show that quickly evolves into a bigger success than anyone could have imagined. Before long, Rhodes finds himself assisting a right wing political candidate who is supported by all kinds of special interest groups and faster than you can say, </span> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rush Limbaugh</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">, Rhodes is showing his true colors ;he claims to be one of the common folk, but in actuality he has nothing but contempt for the rank and file (this ultimately leads to his undoing).<br />
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From pushing snake oil medicines to philosophizing on what is wrong with the United States, Lonesome Rhodes becomes the new Will Rogers, albeit a dark one. </span> <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">During his meteoric rise, Jefferies, though infatuated with him, is beginning to see the reality beneath his folksy veneer, and ultimately has to decide if she should expose him for the rat bastard he really is.<br />
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Considering that this film was made in 1957, it is astounding how much it echoes the world of mass media created demagogues we are surrounded by today. From </span> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Bill O’Riley</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> to </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dr. Phil</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">; they all are the sons of Lonesome Rhodes.<br />
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Maybe it’s time America sat down and discarded reality television and The Fox Network for one night and watched, </span> <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A Face in the Crowd</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I wonder how many of us would recognize this timely story as the cautionary tale it really is.</span>Pax Romanohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00951019083510283683noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-27148842336882924412010-10-28T15:13:00.000-07:002010-10-28T15:15:32.732-07:00Putting on a Couple New Additions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Cinema Geek is not just about me and it's not just about my cohort B-Sol. It's about love of cinema in all of its forms (even when we don't like a movie, we talk about it because we love the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">movies</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">). That love is not limited to just us. With that in mind, we have expanded the roster of Cinema Geek's contributors to include four more writers. Meet the all-new Cinema Geeks:</span> </span></span><br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ryne Barber of </span><a href="http://ryneb.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Moon is a Dead World</span></a></span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Dod of </span><a href="http://wgonhelicopter.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">WGON Helicopter</span></a></span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Andre Dumas of </span><a href="http://horrordigest.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Horror Digest</span></a></span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Pax Romano of </span><a href="http://billylovesstue.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Billy Loves Stu</span></a></span></span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">With such an awesome set of writers, the future of Cinema Geek is looking very bright indeed.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">P.S. I apologize that the promised second part of </span><a href="http://cinema-geek.blogspot.com/2010/07/inception-movies-in-your-mind-part-1-of.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">my </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Inception</span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> essay</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> never materialized. Maybe it will once the film arrives on DVD. Time shall tell.</span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954838068836802591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-30104671615301123462010-09-18T22:23:00.001-07:002010-09-18T23:22:33.038-07:0052 Perfect Movies: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxs3lwjszsQO4PGRzSZKX1cZ4B170DmhyWbs9bhDFavePqCtlS5gtyqtuWWpPcTClb3N3y98p_jXnQdnS-3_kNG9-q7WMIhXK4zKjUNBH-E4MYznG5qy2hj7E54EWicQqcVQlC1aQwaL0/s1600/2001_space_odyssey_fg2b.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxs3lwjszsQO4PGRzSZKX1cZ4B170DmhyWbs9bhDFavePqCtlS5gtyqtuWWpPcTClb3N3y98p_jXnQdnS-3_kNG9-q7WMIhXK4zKjUNBH-E4MYznG5qy2hj7E54EWicQqcVQlC1aQwaL0/s320/2001_space_odyssey_fg2b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518501817211531202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">"Just what do you think you're doing, Dave?"</span><br /><br />To a certain extent, this can be said of virtually every film included in this, the 52 Perfect Movies series--but it is especially true of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey: It almost requires no explanation at all for this film to be included here. 2001 is a work of pure, undistilled genius; a breathtaking piece of art put forth into this world by the combined intellects of Kubrick and the legendary Arthur C. Clarke, to be savored, pondered and debated for all time to come.<br /><br />As science fiction epics go, it is the gold standard--an intoxicating, cerebral journey into the issues that resonate most deeply with the human race as a species, and with the human being as individual. There are no laser guns required, no Flash Gordon-esque childish gimmickry on display. This is science fiction for grown-ups, that speaks to us on a mature level, in our own time and place, rather than a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW52Pyy5g26qdunGRmyhu18HEEMwwrsZ084is06V3js1eNi0PIsxfALPmD0SkqJpWBvfWXIF8kDfckDPT6X5N0ievZrwsDhoyqcQfu0t2oPpoSt1t1Ta2XO5GusIEo5RbosSUF4VnAR6M/s1600/2001_a_space_odyssey_movie_image__3_.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW52Pyy5g26qdunGRmyhu18HEEMwwrsZ084is06V3js1eNi0PIsxfALPmD0SkqJpWBvfWXIF8kDfckDPT6X5N0ievZrwsDhoyqcQfu0t2oPpoSt1t1Ta2XO5GusIEo5RbosSUF4VnAR6M/s320/2001_a_space_odyssey_movie_image__3_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518502012015577426" border="0" /></a>Kubrick famously rebuked those who tried to get him to explain the much-discussed finale to the film, insisting that they had to figure it out for themselves. Perhaps he was being clever, or perhaps he actually didn't quite know himself, but I will forgive him this bit of obtuseness. Whatever it may actually mean--and I have several theories, but this is not the place for them--it is quite true that it exists on another level, beyond the intentions of Kubrick or Clarke. It, like the rest of this monumental film, is there for the viewer to experience, to digest, to absorb and make of it what he will. Art at this level owes us no easy explanation.<br /><br />Taking a genre of film that had long been the province of Saturday afternoon serial matinees or chintzy post-war monster movie fare, and elevating it to a place of beauty and depth of thought and feeling rarely seen in film, 2001 is the definition of a cinematic landmark. And even if the science fiction genre never quite lived up to the promise of this film, that does not take away from its achievement.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjGLc8OcmM64XVbFDhyHv4LtbOFk8_rCCP7tS0-e2Cgru2F_3ib24gQ904I_ceZ0FJtji1xf6mbBBAqICg7VCVZYs8N_-E5QG2U88SSEqW4n6x-78TJL_rF_Rvdm4-AA33CRAta4o9p4/s1600/2001_space_station.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjGLc8OcmM64XVbFDhyHv4LtbOFk8_rCCP7tS0-e2Cgru2F_3ib24gQ904I_ceZ0FJtji1xf6mbBBAqICg7VCVZYs8N_-E5QG2U88SSEqW4n6x-78TJL_rF_Rvdm4-AA33CRAta4o9p4/s320/2001_space_station.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518502221152425394" border="0" /></a>We see Kubrick here cementing his other-wordly, sterile, appropriately alien directorial style, approaching the material with the precision of a surgeon and the uncanny depth of perception we might actually expect from an observant alien race. The man was a gift to the craft of film-making, and it's entirely possible that this fact was never so completely established as in this motion picture, a model of perfection in editing, cinematography and sound design, among many other things.<br /><br />As in much of Kubrick's work, it is the bigger picture here that takes us in and holds us. Kubrick was a stylized film-maker, no doubt about it, and here he sets a pace that certainly takes its time, paradoxically whizzing across various distant epochs in time, and millions of miles of space, and yet always moving at an even keel, fascinating us with the way the story is carefully unfolded, the characters patiently revealed to us. To those weened on music video editing styles, a film like this may seem a chore indeed, and that is quite sad. Because although it moves at anything but a brisk pace, this is the kind of film that must be slowly and deliberately savored, and rewards those who do.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC0vD8LHs6VWK34XCKoN5Zn9o73jKcujawoUJCRqgzYvRAlll8Oh0Xb5LUccYUTyBVzd6xc4lwBqPu0ernpcouQCqLeYyYVRVDl3Wmmm6YVlZBmkXcvajCjO2DGZl6mE3eJsNkgBXC5cg/s1600/the_dawn_of_man_2001_a_space_odyssey-400-400.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC0vD8LHs6VWK34XCKoN5Zn9o73jKcujawoUJCRqgzYvRAlll8Oh0Xb5LUccYUTyBVzd6xc4lwBqPu0ernpcouQCqLeYyYVRVDl3Wmmm6YVlZBmkXcvajCjO2DGZl6mE3eJsNkgBXC5cg/s320/the_dawn_of_man_2001_a_space_odyssey-400-400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518502611085282914" border="0" /></a>From the masterful scenes at the "Dawn of Man", featuring tribes of primitive ape-men so convincing that suspension of disbelief is a non-issue, to the clean, bright, deceptively calm moments during the Jupiter mission, A Space Odyssey is an unstoppable juggernaut of a movie, cruising majestically along, metaphorically towering above the viewer like the implacable monolith itself. Here at the start of what many refer to as the "modern era" of movie-making, Kubrick shows us how it's done, setting the bar extremely high--perhaps too high, really--for any who woud dare to come after him, and taking the very practice of film-making to places previously undreamt of.<br /><br />Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood are terrific as Dr. Bowman and Dr. Poole, the passengers on board the Discovery. And yet, the performance best remembered is that of Douglas Rain as the voice of the computer HAL-9000, whose tragic malfunction and spiral into madness is at the heart of what this movie is all about. Among Kubrick's fascinations was the conflict of the human against that which seeks to dehumanize or automate humanity, and nowhere in his body of work (although Full Metal Jacket comes close) is this theme so directly explored.<br /><br />The concept of the foolproof, beautifully choreographed scenario slowly sent completely off-kilter into utter choas--this is another favorite idea of Kubrick's, and it's no wonder he took so thoroughly to Clarke's material, as it speaks to this concern of his quite directly. Clarke himself often said that with 2001, he wanted to raise more questions than he answered. Most devotees of the film (and actually, probably most of its detractors) would agree that he succeeded in doing just that.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisj5oBKV6y6DCX2xPDefqbKP2slLrvGnv_GwjnX-3nxwyljvLEzg4lh3r9cUYdO02JivPbBAJATlzP0hrw7CBvdZ8scqKc_QaflM7JFjy4cNvWkb0zw75PAM7Wg4E1D7BPfp06CzCDfpQ/s1600/2001.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisj5oBKV6y6DCX2xPDefqbKP2slLrvGnv_GwjnX-3nxwyljvLEzg4lh3r9cUYdO02JivPbBAJATlzP0hrw7CBvdZ8scqKc_QaflM7JFjy4cNvWkb0zw75PAM7Wg4E1D7BPfp06CzCDfpQ/s320/2001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518502830433657634" border="0" /></a>The strains of Strauss' Also Spracht Zarathustra, famously used to such powerful effect in this film, almost serve to act as something of a clarion call, waking the movie-going public up to the notion that the era of the auteur film-maker had arrived; that directorial visionaries would, more than ever before, be able to create deeply personal works that directly expressed their souls, with far less outside intervention than the studio system had ever allowed. And to a lesser degree, among those who devoted themselves to genre entertainment, it demonstrated that speculative fiction in cinema could do the very same thing it had been doing for decades in literature.<br /><br />When discussing greatness in film-making, from a technical point of view, 2001: A Space Odyssey is a film that will invariable be brought up, and rightfully so. It is a sumptuous delight to watch and to listen to, with its groundbreaking (and actually <span style="font-style: italic;">realistic</span>) special effects and brilliant use of classical music, and yet it is also much more than that. It is a film that becomes more than a film. It is an experience. It is a journey, into the self, into that which is beyond ourselves. In short, it is the kind of a narrative work that comes along once in a lifetime.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: The Odd Couple (1968)</span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-65912833664339992252010-09-09T10:37:00.000-07:002010-09-09T10:37:05.715-07:00Gene Kelly - Dancin' with MyselfSo I should've posted this ages ago and I didn't. Sorry. This is a video I whipped up for exhibition at Vividcon's Club Vivid dance party this year. It's a montage of Gene Kelly clips set to Billy Idol's "Dancin' with Myself." Enjoy.<div><br /></div><div><object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/1oxmcJNmvbI/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1oxmcJNmvbI?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1oxmcJNmvbI?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>(note: the vid is credited to an alias I sometimes use in fannish pursuits)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954838068836802591noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816394122569768359.post-38535141702316092892010-08-18T16:02:00.000-07:002010-08-18T16:52:14.774-07:0052 Perfect Movies: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1967)<span style="font-style: italic;">"When you have to shoot, shoot; don't talk."</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguVNz3QeJN0fRIBgiDm1hmX5NTJXYF2kowvF5ksPO6TPLyxObF99NF8s4kL6ps2wwRbJNGXR-AyDZORNYdcWwjNdph-ZGNqE6_nCv2otWUAMzQNBl9Bye92kKqXA11hmxovmAHZ3rB4I/s1600/goodthebadandtheugly.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhguVNz3QeJN0fRIBgiDm1hmX5NTJXYF2kowvF5ksPO6TPLyxObF99NF8s4kL6ps2wwRbJNGXR-AyDZORNYdcWwjNdph-ZGNqE6_nCv2otWUAMzQNBl9Bye92kKqXA11hmxovmAHZ3rB4I/s320/goodthebadandtheugly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506899315971024050" border="0" /></a>It's fitting that the first color film profiled in this series would be Sergio Leone's 1967 masterpiece Il Buono, Il Brutto, Il Cattivo, a grim yet sumptuous epic that practically redefined the motion picture spectacle for the modern era. The epitome of the beloved sub-genre known as the spaghetti western, it is a film that has so much to offer, and you don't even have to like westerns in general to enjoy it. It is a deeply satisfying film, which succeeds on so many levels and captures the imagination like few others.<br /><br />A major crossover hit from the Italian cinema, it works because it speaks the language of action. Sure, the movie has some great lines, but the dialogue is sparse. This is a dynamically visual film, packed with unforgettable imagery, taking full advantage of the iconic Spanish countryside in which it was filmed, as well as some of the most interesting faces ever to be shown on a movie screen. Leone paints what is the very definition of a cinematic portrait, saying so much with expertly designed shots, careful and cautious editing, and some very bold artistic choices.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7vX9sOa-k_T9CKUB9nbqBpSiQQGXwNAe1IQy2c8A_r6JL-tIv-DjX-K17wVjkSRHX35_g3LNIzs2TeZlUiapqtZDr3Y9CqGIyzQUuKgbb-QUM3ie-FzytDWhl9MQScHftFlDAl7-kuM/s1600/the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7vX9sOa-k_T9CKUB9nbqBpSiQQGXwNAe1IQy2c8A_r6JL-tIv-DjX-K17wVjkSRHX35_g3LNIzs2TeZlUiapqtZDr3Y9CqGIyzQUuKgbb-QUM3ie-FzytDWhl9MQScHftFlDAl7-kuM/s320/the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506899511318896434" border="0" /></a>Together with Leone, cinematographer Tonino Delli Colli is truly one of the stars here, portraying each and every scene with a sense of heightened reality--vast, sweeping wide shots are intercut with the closest of extreme closeups. It's a technique that has been much parodied since, but it works so well here. That juxtaposition between the tremendously overwhelming, and the intimately introspective can be an intoxicating mix at times, as is the almost rhythmic alternation between shots that linger for alarming amounts of time, and those--such as during the climactic shootout--that whiz by at a dizzying pace. This film makes viewing it an active participation like few others do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwl9QTTIbzHiHIVGl3nEbY-QcFfss2TsZqjyww0LWuCXcJU1f7e5GKm2QHoo3Fu8C4qLaOtPbmV7oCHyv5spS6FlvB_FS7UN3lWLwh6D1ZhvYZFs0ChdoqHbzKsDg14YbGz7JPRohsvI/s1600/tuco01df0.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkwl9QTTIbzHiHIVGl3nEbY-QcFfss2TsZqjyww0LWuCXcJU1f7e5GKm2QHoo3Fu8C4qLaOtPbmV7oCHyv5spS6FlvB_FS7UN3lWLwh6D1ZhvYZFs0ChdoqHbzKsDg14YbGz7JPRohsvI/s320/tuco01df0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506899923260149650" border="0" /></a>Together with Delli Colli, the film's other star is the legendary Ennio Morricone. Perhaps the most lyrical of all film composers, the scores he wrote for Leone in particular were things of absolute beauty. His daring work on The Good, the Bad and the Ugly represents one of the most recognizable series of musical motifs ever recording for film, and they have been so influential that nowadays it's easy to forget how jarring and unusual his combination of electric guitars, animals sounds, woodwinds and other instruments was, coming after decades of very traditional, much more "conventional" sounding cowboy-and-Indian music. Like few other composers, Morricone's music works so organically with Leone's films, and this film is the greatest example of that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EAJxysb1Ym7BYDsEAJwFbfM__Q0rBynvHNGsZDjW3cbUOXxAq2mjYZnTkcXUH7rvcvJwmDSsazzo2dgf8jLIhjC7BT6ksGmUpQ6eZEtyyFWFGYOZ40X5o-acV2PKcJEj_RQc9tdw9gU/s1600/lee-van-cleef2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EAJxysb1Ym7BYDsEAJwFbfM__Q0rBynvHNGsZDjW3cbUOXxAq2mjYZnTkcXUH7rvcvJwmDSsazzo2dgf8jLIhjC7BT6ksGmUpQ6eZEtyyFWFGYOZ40X5o-acV2PKcJEj_RQc9tdw9gU/s320/lee-van-cleef2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506900509169678994" border="0" /></a>We have Clint Eastwood in the milieu that made him a star. Although no one would ever classify him as one of the great actors, he is a movie star in the truest sense, dominating the screen with a level of energy that belies his scant amount of lines. His very presence is a statement in and of itself, every time he enters the frame, no matter what he is doing. As the deliciously sinister heavy Angel Eyes, Lee Van Cleef, the New Jersey native with a face made to portray pure evil, is a film villain for the ages. His introduction scene alone is worth the price of admission.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyOSqxdlE42laG4kCHnddF9efMWhuhzciCpWBsVWAovrNC8RKyie3xg0N7R3l4srzpEuibjQvdoQMAfA3TZQgnE64bO9QYGReUdKVTBGyRW4HJMaFlZ46Jig0lWdEHXiC9CquOfLdrLU/s1600/gbu3.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyOSqxdlE42laG4kCHnddF9efMWhuhzciCpWBsVWAovrNC8RKyie3xg0N7R3l4srzpEuibjQvdoQMAfA3TZQgnE64bO9QYGReUdKVTBGyRW4HJMaFlZ46Jig0lWdEHXiC9CquOfLdrLU/s320/gbu3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506900732571967378" border="0" /></a>But truly, although he often does not get credit for it, from a dramatic perspective, this film belongs to Eli Wallach. At that point mainly a stage actor, a previous role in The Magnificent Seven was something of a dress rehearsal for the career-defining role of Tuco, the guy who puts the "ugly" in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Conniving, deeply flawed, yet somehow undeniably charismatic, Tuco is one of the most unforgettable movie characters of them all, and Wallach brings a level of depth and humanity to him that I'm sure goes beyond what was on the mere printed page.<br /><br />Westerns by this point had already become a tired genre, with a more jaded public now weary of the paper-thin representations of good and bad, and the sanitized version of America's past in which they existed. Leone's genius was in being able to take his love of the great westerns of John Ford and others, and push it through the meat grinder of his own decidedly non-American background and sensibilities. Perhaps it was this outsider's perspective that makes the spaghetti western so fascinating. It has been remarked that the most striking thing about them is the way the Italians represent such intrinsically American material.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOCjNTDEGzKCZk0kpS3w8s4xlx21yInU_SrTX_OZpLJ5O_5tktV1vFzduVpgVRvulc_Uq3_mkd1RnQb0p8tN3Ravfl4iDPoFGofVQIXnvyJjfSIkC733SSdrMr7VJ_UoMASXUYgvWJIc/s1600/GoodBlondie1.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOCjNTDEGzKCZk0kpS3w8s4xlx21yInU_SrTX_OZpLJ5O_5tktV1vFzduVpgVRvulc_Uq3_mkd1RnQb0p8tN3Ravfl4iDPoFGofVQIXnvyJjfSIkC733SSdrMr7VJ_UoMASXUYgvWJIc/s320/GoodBlondie1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506901021978946770" border="0" /></a>The result is something at the same time familiar and exotic. This is, to be sure, not a realistic portrayal of the Old West, no more than the posturing of Gary Cooper and John Wayne is. But it is a slick, stylized and endlessly stimulating synthesis of it; a heady mix of symbolism, sound, color and music that results in something that can only be called "hyper-real"--the Old West as seen through a pulp fiction lens. It is also a world of muddied morality, where the good and the bad are not all that different, and where ugliness abounds. It is a world of mortality, of violence, and of unbridled human emotion.<br /><br />The plot is almost irrelevant. Buried Civil War gold, hunted down by greedy and unscrupulous men, who cross paths along the way, and whose adventures take them through deserts, battlefields, graveyards and everywhere in between. But it's not about who did what to whom; the gold, and the search for it, is merely a device to put these incredibly drawn characters into motion, to light the powder keg of explosive action to which we are treated for the course of the film's nearly three-hour running time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUufi4WnqAs9wi7Xw1Wo5RUyqiCocqERNSnvzljNQhi-JAiCc387aOfsR1AwF0bSe-hcNeF4UauGqb4AH6u9m_k8g4R7ZuxDNh5Wo1KN5XRWx4KWnBnrbwRMa1dadHVpZQmKKwaiWRTKM/s1600/The+Good,+the+Bad,+and+the+Ugly.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 137px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUufi4WnqAs9wi7Xw1Wo5RUyqiCocqERNSnvzljNQhi-JAiCc387aOfsR1AwF0bSe-hcNeF4UauGqb4AH6u9m_k8g4R7ZuxDNh5Wo1KN5XRWx4KWnBnrbwRMa1dadHVpZQmKKwaiWRTKM/s320/The+Good,+the+Bad,+and+the+Ugly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506901582676472226" border="0" /></a>And yet this is not some mindless action flick, nor is it action in the same style that Sam Peckinpah was creating around the same time. This film is the very definition of a slow-burn, and it is not for the attention-span challenged. But for those with the patience and discipline to expose themselves to the work of a very deliberate and detail-oriented cinematic visionary, The Good, the Bad the Ugly is the kind of film that can grab hold of you and demand repeated viewings.<br /><br />The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, and other standout films of its kind, are of a type of artistic work that could have only occurred at the time they did. Not too far removed from the traditional Westerns of old, yet filtered through a thoroughly modern sensibility, seasoned and packaged in a foreign land and shipped to America, almost as if their makers were looking for approval from the land in which these legends originated, the spaghetti western is a sub-genre which was once marginalized and looked down upon, and is thankfully now rightfully recognized as important, engaging and beautiful. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly represents just about the very best they could be--and yet how ironic, that just a couple of years later, Leone was able to return another time to the Old West for a film that may very well have trumped it...<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;">NEXT UP: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1967)<br /><br /></span>B-Solhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10717121313061173603noreply@blogger.com2