Like most North Americans kids, I was raised on Disney. I’m not a Disney zombie or anything, but I can say for certain that the first 3 movie experiences I remember were distinctly Disney. The Rescuers was the first movie that I ever saw in a theatre and I loved it to death. Disney’s Sunday Night movies were the entertainment staple of my early years, even without a cable television. I was surrounded by Disney storybooks and toy characters in those blissful years when I didn’t and couldn’t comprehend the difference between real magic and the business of entertainment. To a six-year old, Disney isn’t a company making movies. Disney simply is. All this is to say that I figure I have seen most, if not all, of the Disney feature-length films, and I know them all very well. Except this one.
Disney’s Alice In Wonderland (1951) probably would have made my childhood a very different experience. Because as an adult, it certainly messed me the hell up. I suppose I saw it under nearly ideal circumstances, dopey-tired and just barely this side of awake. It was a long day at work on Monday, and I was grateful that Spartacus was not available at the library because I don’t think I could have withstood any movies longer than 75 minutes. But even still, I wasn’t quite ready for the sideways dream-scape that is Wonderland.
Simply put, the movie is mad. There were sequences in the film that I could barely believe were made anywhere, much less in a Disney workshop: the caterpillar who blows dialogue, the insolent Cheshire cat, the tea party comprised of absolute and hard-core mental patients, the disjointed story tangents. This isn’t to say that the film is particularly subversive, because it’s not. But it is such an unusual Disney feature, so divorced from any kind of linear and formulaic Disney narrative, that it almost seems like the output of a rogue studio.
Of course, even without having seen Alice In Wonderland before, I was quite familiar with the story and images. I wasn’t surprised by any of the familiar characters or situations exactly. I already knew where Alice’s trip down the rabbit hole was going to go in a vague way. What I wasn’t prepared for was the manic pace of the film or the abrupt sequence of events. The truth is – and blame this on my exhaustion if you’d like – there were times in the film where I was absolutely lost in the plot. In the blink of an eye, the story changed direction so much fast that there were at least 2 or 3 instances where I had to rewind and realign my bearings. Even paying closer attention, this didn’t help. The movie simply moves like a child’s mind, with no concern for reason or cohesion. It’s the dictionary definition of marvelous.
Why did it trouble me so much? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s that the movie seemed to tap into a part of the imagination that so rarely ends up on-screen (at least in the current animated output of the major studios,) and I was startled. Perhaps it’s the way that Alice In Wonderland just sort of hides amid Disney’s output, never regarded as one of the cornerstone classics and probably not revisited by many people (Disney’s dirty little secret.) Or perhaps it was those damn singing flowers, all of which seemed obscene to me in the most Freudian way (like I said, I was awfully tired. I’m sorry.)
Which leads me to the dark side of Alice In Wonderland. Unlike so many Disney fairytales, it seems to me that there’s a genuinely dreadful and threatening current running through Wonderland. And the threat isn’t just that Alice may be killed; there’s a real possibility that she will be killed and eaten. I’m not really talking about the most obvious threats (i.e. the Red Queen with the ol’ “off with her head” directive) so much as the feral and unpredictable elements of the story: the Cheshire cat who comes and goes as he pleases, but always with the flashing teeth; the caterpillar with his pipe, possibly stuffed with the sort of plantweed you don’t find in the Magic Kingdom; the wild birds that seem to have flown right out of the imagination of children; and even the Mad Hatter and March Hare, who might just as easily tear Alice apart as pour her tea. Now, I’m certain this dark side must’ve been prevalent in Lewis Carroll’s book, although I’ve never read it. I know that other creators in the last 50 years have played up the dark and sinister side of Wonderland (wasn’t there a video game?) But in the Disney context, it’s sort of a unique dimension. The movie is just barely kid-friendly.
I like surprises in the Monday Night line-up. I love it even more when a movie exceeds my expectations by being something completely different than what I’m expecting. With Alice In Wonderland, I was expecting a relatively quiet and colourful Disney movie that I hadn’t seen before. I was certainly not prepared for a movie that got into my head and under my skin.
Those damn singing flowers.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Dead Folks in the Desert
The following is a Monday night movie from a few weeks ago:
The Misfits, if nothing else, is a movie populated by ghosts. That, in and of itself, makes it a remarkably creepy and affecting movie.
I try not to do TOO much reading about the movies before I watch them, but to put The Misfits in context, I read a bit of the background. This was Marilyn Monroe’s final completed film, shot about a year before she died and filmed during the height of her popularity. It was also Clark Gable’s last film and he reportedly died less than a week after his last day on set. The story goes that working with Monroe put so much stress on him (and made him so frustrated) that it precipitated a heart attack. While that’s debatable, there’s no question among film historians that Gable’s boredom on set (waiting for the chronically late Monroe to arrive) prompted him to take a more active role in the film, doing most of his own stunts and putting his body through a great deal of wear-and-tear.
So it goes that The Misfits is like one of those spooky polaroids where you can see spirits floating in the background. Monroe does some positively uncanny speech-making about living life to the fullest and how we’re each capable of dying in any given moment. Gable makes some observations about the passing of the old cowboy days and the onslaught of progress. There’s an unnerving shot of Monroe sleeping naked, face-down in bed, that seems to me to be exactly that position where she was described to be found. And there’s a fight that Gable has in the last few minutes with a horse that, knowing he would be dead within weeks, if not days, is absolutely devastating to watch. Rounding out the cast, there’s another player named Montgomery Clift whose great tragedy was that he was supposed to be the next "James Dean" (he looks the part.) He carries a lot of frustration in this movie. He was also dead by the time he was 42 (about 5 years after this movie wrapped – this was his last appearance of any significance.)
[Super Bonus Feature: with the introduction of Montgomery Clift to the Monday line-up, the Clash’s The Right Profile is so much more FUN now!]
Did you know how much I love John Huston? I adored the Treasure of the Sierra Madre and loved the Maltese Falcon a lot when I saw it. However what clinched this new man-crush was the 120 minute doc on Huston on the Sierra Madre DVD (find it if you have the time) which documents how much of a bohemian Man’s Man Huston was in his long life. Watching anything he does is a pleasure now and in the course of my Monday’s, I think I’ve got at least 7-8 Huston movies to devour, making him the fourth most prolific director in my list (behind only Hitchcock, Ford and Kurosawa.) This was the first Huston movie to pop up. Plus hey! the man made Annie in the early 80’s with Albert Finney – what a range!!
T. started watching The Misfits with me but then fell away to do other things. It was at about the 30 or 40 minute point that she turned to me and asked, "what is this movie about anyway?" and then wandered off. Because at first pass, the movie doesn’t seem to be about much of anything. There’s no debating that it’s light on plot. Without question. A plot does show up by the end, but for the most part, the movie really rambles from scene to scene without much direction. Like the characters. Essentially, Monroe plays a new divorcee who follows Clark Gable and Eli Wallach (the most consistent repeating character-actor in my last few weeks of movie-going!) to a semi-finished house in the Nevada desert. She flirts with Gable, but mostly wants to "be free" outside of the city. Gable, on the other hand, is an aging cowboy who can’t find work and mostly rustles wild horses for dog food. Wallach is widower and an amateur pilot who pines after Monroe’s character. The Montgomery Clift character is a rodeo rider who shows up at the halfway point to help Wallach and Gable rangle some horses, which is the first and only time that a conventional plot shows up.
The movie strikes a remarkable balance between romanticism and cynicism. On the one hand, the movie is about Monroe running away to the wild country to live life to the fullest and completely embrace a natural life-style. But the cowboys are out of work, struggling for money and prone to terrible nights of drunken binging. And there’s nothing romantic about Clift’s rodeo-riding when he falls off his horse and repeatedly gets the shit knocked out of him. It’s a big deal (and a major crisis for Monroe’s character) when the Clark Gable character wants to kill the rabbits that are eating his garden. It’s worse still when Monroe learns that the cowboys will be capturing the wild mustangs to turn them into dog food. Much as she loves the cowboy lifestyle, she can’t cope with the killing which, of course, is part and parcel of the lifestyle.
And then there’s this Marilyn Monroe that everyone talks about. I saw my first Marilyn Monroe movie about 18 months ago when I rented Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot from the library. She was mainly a supporting character in that film, and a love interest. In this movie, she’s the star, sharing top-billing with Gable (another actor I’ve never watched before.) Watching her is sort of like watching one of the most famous faces in movie history come to life. I understand her appeal in some respects. She’s certainly stunning in a movie-star sort of way and she has an uncanny sex appeal that goes beyond the way she looks and moves. But the sad truth is that even in this movie, her best performance from what I’ve read, she’s not a particularly great actor. In fact, she seems to be playing herself. (Proof comes from the fact that the movie was written for her by Arthur Miller, her ex-husband, while he was going through his first divorce. I get the impression that Marilyn’s character was very much modelled on the real Marilyn – naïve, sexual, flamboyant and dumb as a bird house.)
Forgive me this. Watching The Misfits, it seemed to me that dying at 36 was the best thing that could happen to Marilyn Monroe – professionally speaking. I’ve heard people say that Elvis should have died in 1960 at the peak of his popularity and the height of his super-rock powers (of course I don’t agree,) but for Marilyn there was probably not much of a career beyond the early 60’s. She simply didn’t have the acting chops to maintain her career, and her current super-popularity mostly stems from her mysterious death and legend. If she’d lived, she would have probably turned into a sad, sad bird that no one paid much notice. (There are times in this movie where you can already see the image of the future Marilyn in her face.) In time, I suspect she would have become a parody of herself the way that Elizabeth Taylor or Marlon Brando or others did. A diminished icon.
Finally, I have to come back to the last scene. And I don’t know if I’d regard this as a spoiler or not but here it comes. Clark Gable has a magnificent wrestling match with a wild mustang. He grabs it by the reigns and actually fights it to the ground, taking shots to the face and ending up a bloody mess. It’s a high point and after letting the movie percolate for a few days, I had to go back and watch the scene again.
The Misfits, if nothing else, is a movie populated by ghosts. That, in and of itself, makes it a remarkably creepy and affecting movie.
I try not to do TOO much reading about the movies before I watch them, but to put The Misfits in context, I read a bit of the background. This was Marilyn Monroe’s final completed film, shot about a year before she died and filmed during the height of her popularity. It was also Clark Gable’s last film and he reportedly died less than a week after his last day on set. The story goes that working with Monroe put so much stress on him (and made him so frustrated) that it precipitated a heart attack. While that’s debatable, there’s no question among film historians that Gable’s boredom on set (waiting for the chronically late Monroe to arrive) prompted him to take a more active role in the film, doing most of his own stunts and putting his body through a great deal of wear-and-tear.
So it goes that The Misfits is like one of those spooky polaroids where you can see spirits floating in the background. Monroe does some positively uncanny speech-making about living life to the fullest and how we’re each capable of dying in any given moment. Gable makes some observations about the passing of the old cowboy days and the onslaught of progress. There’s an unnerving shot of Monroe sleeping naked, face-down in bed, that seems to me to be exactly that position where she was described to be found. And there’s a fight that Gable has in the last few minutes with a horse that, knowing he would be dead within weeks, if not days, is absolutely devastating to watch. Rounding out the cast, there’s another player named Montgomery Clift whose great tragedy was that he was supposed to be the next "James Dean" (he looks the part.) He carries a lot of frustration in this movie. He was also dead by the time he was 42 (about 5 years after this movie wrapped – this was his last appearance of any significance.)
[Super Bonus Feature: with the introduction of Montgomery Clift to the Monday line-up, the Clash’s The Right Profile is so much more FUN now!]
Did you know how much I love John Huston? I adored the Treasure of the Sierra Madre and loved the Maltese Falcon a lot when I saw it. However what clinched this new man-crush was the 120 minute doc on Huston on the Sierra Madre DVD (find it if you have the time) which documents how much of a bohemian Man’s Man Huston was in his long life. Watching anything he does is a pleasure now and in the course of my Monday’s, I think I’ve got at least 7-8 Huston movies to devour, making him the fourth most prolific director in my list (behind only Hitchcock, Ford and Kurosawa.) This was the first Huston movie to pop up. Plus hey! the man made Annie in the early 80’s with Albert Finney – what a range!!
T. started watching The Misfits with me but then fell away to do other things. It was at about the 30 or 40 minute point that she turned to me and asked, "what is this movie about anyway?" and then wandered off. Because at first pass, the movie doesn’t seem to be about much of anything. There’s no debating that it’s light on plot. Without question. A plot does show up by the end, but for the most part, the movie really rambles from scene to scene without much direction. Like the characters. Essentially, Monroe plays a new divorcee who follows Clark Gable and Eli Wallach (the most consistent repeating character-actor in my last few weeks of movie-going!) to a semi-finished house in the Nevada desert. She flirts with Gable, but mostly wants to "be free" outside of the city. Gable, on the other hand, is an aging cowboy who can’t find work and mostly rustles wild horses for dog food. Wallach is widower and an amateur pilot who pines after Monroe’s character. The Montgomery Clift character is a rodeo rider who shows up at the halfway point to help Wallach and Gable rangle some horses, which is the first and only time that a conventional plot shows up.
The movie strikes a remarkable balance between romanticism and cynicism. On the one hand, the movie is about Monroe running away to the wild country to live life to the fullest and completely embrace a natural life-style. But the cowboys are out of work, struggling for money and prone to terrible nights of drunken binging. And there’s nothing romantic about Clift’s rodeo-riding when he falls off his horse and repeatedly gets the shit knocked out of him. It’s a big deal (and a major crisis for Monroe’s character) when the Clark Gable character wants to kill the rabbits that are eating his garden. It’s worse still when Monroe learns that the cowboys will be capturing the wild mustangs to turn them into dog food. Much as she loves the cowboy lifestyle, she can’t cope with the killing which, of course, is part and parcel of the lifestyle.
And then there’s this Marilyn Monroe that everyone talks about. I saw my first Marilyn Monroe movie about 18 months ago when I rented Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot from the library. She was mainly a supporting character in that film, and a love interest. In this movie, she’s the star, sharing top-billing with Gable (another actor I’ve never watched before.) Watching her is sort of like watching one of the most famous faces in movie history come to life. I understand her appeal in some respects. She’s certainly stunning in a movie-star sort of way and she has an uncanny sex appeal that goes beyond the way she looks and moves. But the sad truth is that even in this movie, her best performance from what I’ve read, she’s not a particularly great actor. In fact, she seems to be playing herself. (Proof comes from the fact that the movie was written for her by Arthur Miller, her ex-husband, while he was going through his first divorce. I get the impression that Marilyn’s character was very much modelled on the real Marilyn – naïve, sexual, flamboyant and dumb as a bird house.)
Forgive me this. Watching The Misfits, it seemed to me that dying at 36 was the best thing that could happen to Marilyn Monroe – professionally speaking. I’ve heard people say that Elvis should have died in 1960 at the peak of his popularity and the height of his super-rock powers (of course I don’t agree,) but for Marilyn there was probably not much of a career beyond the early 60’s. She simply didn’t have the acting chops to maintain her career, and her current super-popularity mostly stems from her mysterious death and legend. If she’d lived, she would have probably turned into a sad, sad bird that no one paid much notice. (There are times in this movie where you can already see the image of the future Marilyn in her face.) In time, I suspect she would have become a parody of herself the way that Elizabeth Taylor or Marlon Brando or others did. A diminished icon.
Finally, I have to come back to the last scene. And I don’t know if I’d regard this as a spoiler or not but here it comes. Clark Gable has a magnificent wrestling match with a wild mustang. He grabs it by the reigns and actually fights it to the ground, taking shots to the face and ending up a bloody mess. It’s a high point and after letting the movie percolate for a few days, I had to go back and watch the scene again.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Was it 1981?
My first memory of Raiders of the Lost Ark is the poster. It couldn’t have been a regular poster, because I remember it hanging over the archway of the Premiere theatre in Milton, huge and Harrison. Or Han Solo as he was known back then. Han Solo in a hat, with a dirty face and a dirty shirt.
I vividly recall thinking that this must be an “adult” movie. I don’t know what made me think that because surely fedoras and torn shirts were not foreign elements in family/kids movie. But I definitely remember not pushing to see it, not wanting to see it, and not expecting that it would have anything to appeal to an 8-year old. We had just moved to Oakville.
Is Raiders of the Lost Ark a good movie for an 8-year old? Because I definitely recollect that it completely and absolutely blew my lid. Nazis melting. Propeller deaths. Giant boulders. King freakin’ cobras. It’s like that first screening is flash-frozen to my brain – I can actually remember the days leading up to, and immediately after it (there was a school field trip to a farm shortly after, but that’s a story for a different blog.) This is all my way of saying that this was the first time that I saw a movie that, today, would have been labeled PG-13. [In fact, by way of historical notes, it was the sequel, Temple of Doom, which pushed the invention of the PG-13 classification.] It was the first memory I have of seeing a movie that teetered beyond the fantasy worlds of Star Wars, Superman and a zillion pure kid flicks. Though it was all of those things too.
Today, Raiders of the Lost Ark is candy. There’s no better way to describe the sweet taste of going back to it and realizing that not only has it aged well, but it’s in every as perfect as the day I first saw it. That’s not true of a lot of movies that slapped me around in childhood. But those of us who grew up under the shadow of Spielberg and Lucas in their prime, Raiders is a touchstone to a way of watching movies that doesn’t exist anymore. Though I’m always and still looking.
I vividly recall thinking that this must be an “adult” movie. I don’t know what made me think that because surely fedoras and torn shirts were not foreign elements in family/kids movie. But I definitely remember not pushing to see it, not wanting to see it, and not expecting that it would have anything to appeal to an 8-year old. We had just moved to Oakville.
Is Raiders of the Lost Ark a good movie for an 8-year old? Because I definitely recollect that it completely and absolutely blew my lid. Nazis melting. Propeller deaths. Giant boulders. King freakin’ cobras. It’s like that first screening is flash-frozen to my brain – I can actually remember the days leading up to, and immediately after it (there was a school field trip to a farm shortly after, but that’s a story for a different blog.) This is all my way of saying that this was the first time that I saw a movie that, today, would have been labeled PG-13. [In fact, by way of historical notes, it was the sequel, Temple of Doom, which pushed the invention of the PG-13 classification.] It was the first memory I have of seeing a movie that teetered beyond the fantasy worlds of Star Wars, Superman and a zillion pure kid flicks. Though it was all of those things too.
Today, Raiders of the Lost Ark is candy. There’s no better way to describe the sweet taste of going back to it and realizing that not only has it aged well, but it’s in every as perfect as the day I first saw it. That’s not true of a lot of movies that slapped me around in childhood. But those of us who grew up under the shadow of Spielberg and Lucas in their prime, Raiders is a touchstone to a way of watching movies that doesn’t exist anymore. Though I’m always and still looking.
Friday, October 15, 2004
Throw Uncle Charlie From the Train
So then.
I left Tuesday night's decision to T., since she was the one with vomit on her shirt. Would she rather sit and cradle a sick toddler through a Hitchcock movie or an artsy French movie? It seems that Hitch won.
Truth is, for a movie reputed to be Hitchcock's favourite, Shadow of a Doubt sort of washed over me. Make no mistake that I liked it, but I'm not certain that I could see a lot of extra bits trembling below the surface. And I'm talking about those extra bits that would make this a movie to see again and again.
It was a very solid, solid thriller. A model for how to efficiently build a story and keep the narrative air-tight. Definitely. [Is it too easy, writing about Hitchcock, to throw out the word taut?] It did occur to me at a few points in the first hour that a modern mainstream thriller would have tipped its hand much sooner, and it would have been the poorer for it. Rather, Shadow of a Doubt really piles question on top of question for that first 60-minutes and that hour is wonderful. Absolutely nothing is given away for free. [The opening sequence, which leaves viewers disoriented and confused about what is happening on-screen, is particularly exciting and effective.]
But at the 60-minute mark, we begin to get the answers. And with every new piece of the puzzle on the table, my excitement began to settle. The movie just didn't go anywhere that I wasn't expecting. And the mystery didn't pay off with the sort of surprise that I hoped it would.
[On re-reading the synopsis at www.allmovie.com, I realize that most of the twists in the film are given away on-line. I used this site to build my Monday list and I remember reading this blurp recently - it's entirely possible that this outline spoiled the movie for me. And now I've directed you there also. Spoil away.]
Joseph Cotten is a funny sort of actor and I wish more than anything that I could nail down the person he reminds me of. But I think it was someone I went to high school with, so that's neither here nor there. He does a great job of giving away very little (and in most cases nothing) and playing a really impenetrable mystery of a character. Even when the evidence of what is happening is plain, Cotten's stiff mannerisms and inconsistent behaviour (these are good things for the character, I swear) cast doubt on whether we are misreading the clues. And just this instant, I realized this must be the root of the title. (I hadn't given it much thought before now.)
Perhaps the most entertaining character in the film is that of Hume Cronyn (the second Cocoon-alumni to show up in my line-up) who plays a co-worker and friend to the father figure. Cronyn's character (and the father, played by Henry Travers) are obsessed with murder and particularing murderering each other (in theory). There are a few great sequences in the film where the plot stops cold to give the pair some time to debate their murder theories and squabble over details and oversights. Death by bathtub. Death by poison. Death by blunt instrument. The dialogue is remarkable in part because of how much life Cronyn and Travers brings to it. And seeing a young Hume Cronyn is simply fantastic!
I realize these impressions are pretty thin, but perhaps the movie will grow on me in the days to come. In the meantime, this is the first of more than a dozen Hitchcock movies to show up in the Monday list. I'm eager to see more.
I left Tuesday night's decision to T., since she was the one with vomit on her shirt. Would she rather sit and cradle a sick toddler through a Hitchcock movie or an artsy French movie? It seems that Hitch won.
Truth is, for a movie reputed to be Hitchcock's favourite, Shadow of a Doubt sort of washed over me. Make no mistake that I liked it, but I'm not certain that I could see a lot of extra bits trembling below the surface. And I'm talking about those extra bits that would make this a movie to see again and again.
It was a very solid, solid thriller. A model for how to efficiently build a story and keep the narrative air-tight. Definitely. [Is it too easy, writing about Hitchcock, to throw out the word taut?] It did occur to me at a few points in the first hour that a modern mainstream thriller would have tipped its hand much sooner, and it would have been the poorer for it. Rather, Shadow of a Doubt really piles question on top of question for that first 60-minutes and that hour is wonderful. Absolutely nothing is given away for free. [The opening sequence, which leaves viewers disoriented and confused about what is happening on-screen, is particularly exciting and effective.]
But at the 60-minute mark, we begin to get the answers. And with every new piece of the puzzle on the table, my excitement began to settle. The movie just didn't go anywhere that I wasn't expecting. And the mystery didn't pay off with the sort of surprise that I hoped it would.
[On re-reading the synopsis at www.allmovie.com, I realize that most of the twists in the film are given away on-line. I used this site to build my Monday list and I remember reading this blurp recently - it's entirely possible that this outline spoiled the movie for me. And now I've directed you there also. Spoil away.]
Joseph Cotten is a funny sort of actor and I wish more than anything that I could nail down the person he reminds me of. But I think it was someone I went to high school with, so that's neither here nor there. He does a great job of giving away very little (and in most cases nothing) and playing a really impenetrable mystery of a character. Even when the evidence of what is happening is plain, Cotten's stiff mannerisms and inconsistent behaviour (these are good things for the character, I swear) cast doubt on whether we are misreading the clues. And just this instant, I realized this must be the root of the title. (I hadn't given it much thought before now.)
Perhaps the most entertaining character in the film is that of Hume Cronyn (the second Cocoon-alumni to show up in my line-up) who plays a co-worker and friend to the father figure. Cronyn's character (and the father, played by Henry Travers) are obsessed with murder and particularing murderering each other (in theory). There are a few great sequences in the film where the plot stops cold to give the pair some time to debate their murder theories and squabble over details and oversights. Death by bathtub. Death by poison. Death by blunt instrument. The dialogue is remarkable in part because of how much life Cronyn and Travers brings to it. And seeing a young Hume Cronyn is simply fantastic!
I realize these impressions are pretty thin, but perhaps the movie will grow on me in the days to come. In the meantime, this is the first of more than a dozen Hitchcock movies to show up in the Monday list. I'm eager to see more.
The irony is not lost on me (ii)
It's been almost 10 years since I finished university.
I remember very clearly the feeling of joy when I finished my last Film History class. Such a stuffy course. So many antique movies. [And my God! Mortal Kombat is playing in theatres - why am I wasting my time with Stella Dallas??]
I remember very clearly what it felt like when I set down my pencil during my last exam. No more essays. Ever. No more artsy fartsy movies. Not one.
The real world looked pretty good to me.
I remember very clearly the feeling of joy when I finished my last Film History class. Such a stuffy course. So many antique movies. [And my God! Mortal Kombat is playing in theatres - why am I wasting my time with Stella Dallas??]
I remember very clearly what it felt like when I set down my pencil during my last exam. No more essays. Ever. No more artsy fartsy movies. Not one.
The real world looked pretty good to me.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Tuesday is the New Monday.
Moving movie night this week. There's just too much going on in the house: O. is fighting a double dose of ear infections; T. and I are courting a new house offer and mortgage, possibly to be firmed up this weekend; and there's this little Thanksgiving holiday.
There's also a wrinkle in the movie line-up as tonight's randomly chosen feature - The Seventh Seal - has proven to be unavailable. Library computer says it's in stock. I've seen it a million times on the shelf. Still, the movie's taken a walk.
I've grabbed two back ups and am not sure which one will make the night:
The Rules of the Game (Jean Renoir, 1939)
or
Shadow of a Doubt (Hitchcock, 1943)
One is terribly fartsy and old, sub-titled, possibly tough to watch, but considered a true classic shoulder-to-shoulder with Citizen Kane. The other is (supposedly) one of Hitchcock's better early films. And lord knows there's a lot of Hitchcock in the Monday Night list so it might be best to get an early start.
We'll see...
There's also a wrinkle in the movie line-up as tonight's randomly chosen feature - The Seventh Seal - has proven to be unavailable. Library computer says it's in stock. I've seen it a million times on the shelf. Still, the movie's taken a walk.
I've grabbed two back ups and am not sure which one will make the night:
The Rules of the Game (Jean Renoir, 1939)
or
Shadow of a Doubt (Hitchcock, 1943)
One is terribly fartsy and old, sub-titled, possibly tough to watch, but considered a true classic shoulder-to-shoulder with Citizen Kane. The other is (supposedly) one of Hitchcock's better early films. And lord knows there's a lot of Hitchcock in the Monday Night list so it might be best to get an early start.
We'll see...
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
A Little Bit About Eve.
I feel like I should start by declaring, emphatically, that I liked All About Eve (1950). I liked it. Again, I liked it, I liked it. I really did like it. I need to put that out there first because, for the most part, I’m now going to rip into it. This is not to say that the movie was a misstep in the Monday Night line-up, but it’s true that it’ll be the last title I need to re-watch anytime soon. But I did like it. I liked a great many things about it. I’ll get to those things a little later on.
In the weeks and months to come I’ll be grappling with the definition of "classic", because "classic" doesn’t always mean "spectacular" and "timeless". Sometimes even the most classic of classics hasn’t aged smoothly and doesn’t sit well with modern day expectations. Take Dyne and Casablanca. I’m also told that Easy Rider just won’t be the same experience in the 21st Century as it was in the late sixties (we’ll see.) But when visiting the Monday night movies I’m trying not to bring too many expectations to the table. I understand that some oldies are gonna be showing up. I’m cool with the fact that sometimes they’re gonna be wildly out of whack with what I’m used to seeing. Case in point: Stagecoach (1939), which was akin to leafing through an old sepia-tinted photo-album, yet was astonishingly alive and vibrant. It had me at the edge of my seat from about five minutes in.
All About Eve is another story.
All About Eve is an actor’s movie. And it’s not just because the plot surrounds a young actress usurping the stage royalty of Bette Davis’ diva character, Margo Channing. It’s an actor’s movie in the way that only movies from the late-40’s and early-50’s can be. The actors live for speechifying, for running wild with monologues that, while sharply written, seem to fly right off the typewriter. Every actor in this movie has at least one or two – a moment built for the Oscar highlight reel where they run the range of emotions like a soprano massaging an aria. They’re good speeches. Don’t misunderstand. In some cases, they’re wonderful speeches. But they are also remarkably theatrical and arch, casting an artificiality to the movie that’s difficult to bust through. Bottom line is that there was never any doubt that I was watching an old movie. And there was never any question that I was watching famous actors move through their paces like old pros. [I recognize that this argument can be posted with a lot of old movies, but so far this is the first Monday Night movie that hasn’t absorbed me entirely.]
The plot for All About Eve was also a little shaky, insofar that it never once surprised me. This might be a decade-sensitive thing. Fifty-four years ago, post-war audiences may have been surprised and delighted when Eve turned out to be a scoundrel (the most courteous and congenial villainous in film history, I might add.) But to my eyes the plot was so telegraphed that I could tell where we were heading 30 minutes before the turn. Sort of like riding in a car in a parade. This made the experience less than engaging. And worse, this was the first movie of the Monday night line-ups where I began to look at the clock and count the number of hours of sleep I was going to get before work.
But like I’ve said again and again. I liked the movie. Now the good.
This is the first time I’ve seen Bette Davis in action [outside of Disney’s Watcher In The Woods, which hardly counts.] She’s a marvel. And yet I can’t put my finger on what it is. She’s certainly not attractive like a lot of popular actresses from the 30’s and 40’s (though I suppose there'll always be some people who find her attractive.) She’s not young and vital (at least in this movie) like many of the old icons. If anything, she probably smells a little like cigarettes and booze. So what is it? Of course, there are those eyes – those eyes that most certainly warrant a 1980’s pop song. Perhaps she’s the female answer to Peter Lorre, with sad sack eyes that command attention and do so much of her acting. [This got me to thinking that there aren’t many of these types of character actors left in the world. I’m talking about actors where the eyes do everything – William H. Macy’s the only one that comes to mind. Let me know if you can think of any others.]
Bette Davis also smokes remarkably well. She can blow smoke like she is in control of air around her. Which is good because she smokes A LOT. In truth, this entire movie is one big showcase of masterful, theatrical smoking. The air is dense with it and I almost had to check the DVD case again to be sure that I hadn’t accidentally slipped into a noir film. At any rate, I look forward to Bette Davis popping up again in the Monday Night line-up.
And speaking of repeat offenders, Marilyn Monroe also passed through All About Eve for all of about two seconds. Sharing the screen with Bette Davis, it’s quite a dichotomy between Hollywood icons – one young and desirable and the other, street-wise and weathered. And yet still, Bette Davis came out on top.
Special note: All About Eve featured the coolest cucumber I’ve seen in a movie in some time. The role of Addison DeWitt was played by George Sanders, the same laid-back dude who gave voice to Shere Khan in Disney’s The Jungle Book. I recognized his suave voice right away and it thrilled me to no end to see the character (who was still and will always be Shere Khan as far as I’m convinced) dating Marilyn Monroe and smoking crazy-long (and one might even say "dainty") cigarettes. On a further tangent, a quick search of IMDB confirms that Sanders ultimately died by suicide, leaving a note that read, "Dear World, I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough." He also recorded an album called "Songs for the Lovely Ladies." Like I said: one cool cucumber.
In the weeks and months to come I’ll be grappling with the definition of "classic", because "classic" doesn’t always mean "spectacular" and "timeless". Sometimes even the most classic of classics hasn’t aged smoothly and doesn’t sit well with modern day expectations. Take Dyne and Casablanca. I’m also told that Easy Rider just won’t be the same experience in the 21st Century as it was in the late sixties (we’ll see.) But when visiting the Monday night movies I’m trying not to bring too many expectations to the table. I understand that some oldies are gonna be showing up. I’m cool with the fact that sometimes they’re gonna be wildly out of whack with what I’m used to seeing. Case in point: Stagecoach (1939), which was akin to leafing through an old sepia-tinted photo-album, yet was astonishingly alive and vibrant. It had me at the edge of my seat from about five minutes in.
All About Eve is another story.
All About Eve is an actor’s movie. And it’s not just because the plot surrounds a young actress usurping the stage royalty of Bette Davis’ diva character, Margo Channing. It’s an actor’s movie in the way that only movies from the late-40’s and early-50’s can be. The actors live for speechifying, for running wild with monologues that, while sharply written, seem to fly right off the typewriter. Every actor in this movie has at least one or two – a moment built for the Oscar highlight reel where they run the range of emotions like a soprano massaging an aria. They’re good speeches. Don’t misunderstand. In some cases, they’re wonderful speeches. But they are also remarkably theatrical and arch, casting an artificiality to the movie that’s difficult to bust through. Bottom line is that there was never any doubt that I was watching an old movie. And there was never any question that I was watching famous actors move through their paces like old pros. [I recognize that this argument can be posted with a lot of old movies, but so far this is the first Monday Night movie that hasn’t absorbed me entirely.]
The plot for All About Eve was also a little shaky, insofar that it never once surprised me. This might be a decade-sensitive thing. Fifty-four years ago, post-war audiences may have been surprised and delighted when Eve turned out to be a scoundrel (the most courteous and congenial villainous in film history, I might add.) But to my eyes the plot was so telegraphed that I could tell where we were heading 30 minutes before the turn. Sort of like riding in a car in a parade. This made the experience less than engaging. And worse, this was the first movie of the Monday night line-ups where I began to look at the clock and count the number of hours of sleep I was going to get before work.
But like I’ve said again and again. I liked the movie. Now the good.
This is the first time I’ve seen Bette Davis in action [outside of Disney’s Watcher In The Woods, which hardly counts.] She’s a marvel. And yet I can’t put my finger on what it is. She’s certainly not attractive like a lot of popular actresses from the 30’s and 40’s (though I suppose there'll always be some people who find her attractive.) She’s not young and vital (at least in this movie) like many of the old icons. If anything, she probably smells a little like cigarettes and booze. So what is it? Of course, there are those eyes – those eyes that most certainly warrant a 1980’s pop song. Perhaps she’s the female answer to Peter Lorre, with sad sack eyes that command attention and do so much of her acting. [This got me to thinking that there aren’t many of these types of character actors left in the world. I’m talking about actors where the eyes do everything – William H. Macy’s the only one that comes to mind. Let me know if you can think of any others.]
Bette Davis also smokes remarkably well. She can blow smoke like she is in control of air around her. Which is good because she smokes A LOT. In truth, this entire movie is one big showcase of masterful, theatrical smoking. The air is dense with it and I almost had to check the DVD case again to be sure that I hadn’t accidentally slipped into a noir film. At any rate, I look forward to Bette Davis popping up again in the Monday Night line-up.
And speaking of repeat offenders, Marilyn Monroe also passed through All About Eve for all of about two seconds. Sharing the screen with Bette Davis, it’s quite a dichotomy between Hollywood icons – one young and desirable and the other, street-wise and weathered. And yet still, Bette Davis came out on top.
Special note: All About Eve featured the coolest cucumber I’ve seen in a movie in some time. The role of Addison DeWitt was played by George Sanders, the same laid-back dude who gave voice to Shere Khan in Disney’s The Jungle Book. I recognized his suave voice right away and it thrilled me to no end to see the character (who was still and will always be Shere Khan as far as I’m convinced) dating Marilyn Monroe and smoking crazy-long (and one might even say "dainty") cigarettes. On a further tangent, a quick search of IMDB confirms that Sanders ultimately died by suicide, leaving a note that read, "Dear World, I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough." He also recorded an album called "Songs for the Lovely Ladies." Like I said: one cool cucumber.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Hey Boo.
Not all of the movies in the Monday Night line-up are new. Casablanca – which kicked off this whole affair – was a movie I’ve seen before, but in the context where I couldn’t really absorb and enjoy it as richly as I could on a Monday night. I’ve also thrown other classics into the list, some that I’ve seen dozens of times (2001 and The Godfather, for example.) There are others that I’ve seen only once or twice. And then there are some that I barely remember at all.
For me, revisiting To Kill a Mockingbird was like being retold a childhood story that you remember in brief but where the details have grown fuzzy. As the movie unfolded, I was often about 2 minutes ahead of the plot, remembering some of the twists that were coming or some of the key moments that were being set up. Yet there were still some great surprises, crucial surprises – particularly that ending (what a great ending) and even the conclusion of the trial, which didn’t end at all like I expected. The experience was a bit like re-finding a warm blanket – secure and familiar, but also dusty with time. Which by strange coincidence, is the overall tone of the movie.
In many ways, I also remembered it wrong. Over the years, I’ve grown to remember To Kill a Mockingbird as a courtroom drama about racial prejudice with Gregory Peck at its center. But on seeing it again as adult, I don’t think that’s what it’s about at all. In fact, in some ways I think the courtroom aspects (which to be fair, do take over in the final act) actually form the sub-plot. Instead, I would argue that Boo Radley’s story is the A-plot. After all, the story is about the kids and I think that’s what makes it so wonderful. Everything is told from their perspective and with a sort of simplicity that makes this a movie appropriate even for young viewers.
I appreciated much more the strong point of view in the film. Nothing – absolutely nothing – happened in this movie that wasn’t seen or heard by the children. And if the children weren’t around, the action wasn’t included. (There are a few spots in the movie where it’s clear that something must be going on outside the edges of the frame but since the children can’t see or hear the action, it’s lost to us. I’m thinking particularly of a few closed-door conversations between Gregory Peck and people involved in the Tom Robinson trial.)
Back on the subject of remakes for a moment. I don’t know why, but the notion of remaking these movies or rather, imagining how they would look remade, often floats through my head as I watch these movies. And it seems to me that this is a movie that could never, ever successfully be remade. That’s not to say that the original is timeless, because it’s not. In fact, I think that the opposite is true; the movie is so of an age and the subject matter is so specific to the time period of the book and the early 60’s when it was made that seeing the movie play out today with modern actors would be absolutely wrong. Just wouldn’t work.
Are you familiar with Elmer Bernstein? I ask because he only died a few short weeks ago and in the last month, he has shown up twice in the Monday night line-up. Elmer Bernstein was a film composer, most famous for that outstanding theme to The Magnificent Seven. Bernstein also wrote the score for To Kill a Mockingbird it’s simply wonderful. Subtle piano lines and soft strings that grow a little more powerful as the movie plays on. Since watching the movie three weeks ago, I’m still hearing the cues in my head – it’s the sort of theme that aches. I’m trying to build some CDs capturing the music and themes of these Monday night adventures (chronological of course) and I’m really, really hoping I can find some of this music. Unfortunately, some of these movies are so old that it’s going to be close to impossible.
Robert Duvall showed up in this movie, I don’t know if that’s common knowledge. In fact, if the IMDB is to be trusted, this was his first on-screen role (at the age of 31!) He’s perfect, absolutely perfect, as Boo Radley. And he doesn’t speak a single line of dialogue. The climax of the film, as Boo is revealed to be hiding behind Scout’s bedroom door, is a masterpiece and one of the first of many highlights I would include as high points of this Monday Project.
Finally, here’s where DVD is king. As if having To Kill a Mockingbird wasn’t enough, the DVD also features a magnificently layered, 96-minute documentary on the background of the film which is top-rate in every respect. I love, love, LOVE these sorts of docs, and I particularly love them when I finish a Monday night movie. They provide a quick and dirty way to put the movie in context and fill out the background details that I might not have already known.
For me, revisiting To Kill a Mockingbird was like being retold a childhood story that you remember in brief but where the details have grown fuzzy. As the movie unfolded, I was often about 2 minutes ahead of the plot, remembering some of the twists that were coming or some of the key moments that were being set up. Yet there were still some great surprises, crucial surprises – particularly that ending (what a great ending) and even the conclusion of the trial, which didn’t end at all like I expected. The experience was a bit like re-finding a warm blanket – secure and familiar, but also dusty with time. Which by strange coincidence, is the overall tone of the movie.
In many ways, I also remembered it wrong. Over the years, I’ve grown to remember To Kill a Mockingbird as a courtroom drama about racial prejudice with Gregory Peck at its center. But on seeing it again as adult, I don’t think that’s what it’s about at all. In fact, in some ways I think the courtroom aspects (which to be fair, do take over in the final act) actually form the sub-plot. Instead, I would argue that Boo Radley’s story is the A-plot. After all, the story is about the kids and I think that’s what makes it so wonderful. Everything is told from their perspective and with a sort of simplicity that makes this a movie appropriate even for young viewers.
I appreciated much more the strong point of view in the film. Nothing – absolutely nothing – happened in this movie that wasn’t seen or heard by the children. And if the children weren’t around, the action wasn’t included. (There are a few spots in the movie where it’s clear that something must be going on outside the edges of the frame but since the children can’t see or hear the action, it’s lost to us. I’m thinking particularly of a few closed-door conversations between Gregory Peck and people involved in the Tom Robinson trial.)
Back on the subject of remakes for a moment. I don’t know why, but the notion of remaking these movies or rather, imagining how they would look remade, often floats through my head as I watch these movies. And it seems to me that this is a movie that could never, ever successfully be remade. That’s not to say that the original is timeless, because it’s not. In fact, I think that the opposite is true; the movie is so of an age and the subject matter is so specific to the time period of the book and the early 60’s when it was made that seeing the movie play out today with modern actors would be absolutely wrong. Just wouldn’t work.
Are you familiar with Elmer Bernstein? I ask because he only died a few short weeks ago and in the last month, he has shown up twice in the Monday night line-up. Elmer Bernstein was a film composer, most famous for that outstanding theme to The Magnificent Seven. Bernstein also wrote the score for To Kill a Mockingbird it’s simply wonderful. Subtle piano lines and soft strings that grow a little more powerful as the movie plays on. Since watching the movie three weeks ago, I’m still hearing the cues in my head – it’s the sort of theme that aches. I’m trying to build some CDs capturing the music and themes of these Monday night adventures (chronological of course) and I’m really, really hoping I can find some of this music. Unfortunately, some of these movies are so old that it’s going to be close to impossible.
Robert Duvall showed up in this movie, I don’t know if that’s common knowledge. In fact, if the IMDB is to be trusted, this was his first on-screen role (at the age of 31!) He’s perfect, absolutely perfect, as Boo Radley. And he doesn’t speak a single line of dialogue. The climax of the film, as Boo is revealed to be hiding behind Scout’s bedroom door, is a masterpiece and one of the first of many highlights I would include as high points of this Monday Project.
Finally, here’s where DVD is king. As if having To Kill a Mockingbird wasn’t enough, the DVD also features a magnificently layered, 96-minute documentary on the background of the film which is top-rate in every respect. I love, love, LOVE these sorts of docs, and I particularly love them when I finish a Monday night movie. They provide a quick and dirty way to put the movie in context and fill out the background details that I might not have already known.
The irony is not lost on me.
Sort of movie-related, but not really.
The family has just returned from a week-long vacation in Orlando where we experienced up close and personal the full power of Hurricane Jeanne. Sunday we were trapped like mice in our hotel room for the entire day as the storm raged at the windows (a pretty spectacular matinee, I must say.)
The next morning, freed of the storm, we spent our first full day at Universal Studios theme park. The first ride of the day - truth be told, closest to the front gate - was the Twister ride. The ride was modelled after the movie and simulated the effects of a tornado, including heavy rain and extreme wind gusts.
And of course, there was a fair line-up.
The family has just returned from a week-long vacation in Orlando where we experienced up close and personal the full power of Hurricane Jeanne. Sunday we were trapped like mice in our hotel room for the entire day as the storm raged at the windows (a pretty spectacular matinee, I must say.)
The next morning, freed of the storm, we spent our first full day at Universal Studios theme park. The first ride of the day - truth be told, closest to the front gate - was the Twister ride. The ride was modelled after the movie and simulated the effects of a tornado, including heavy rain and extreme wind gusts.
And of course, there was a fair line-up.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
When George C. Scott has an “uneasy feeling of disaster,” get the hell off the Hindenburg!
There’s something delicious about joining a movie already in progress. It’s like coming late to a party where the people have already been introduced and the chit-chatters have already changed partners two or three times. It’s that sense of leaning into the mid-point of a conversation and trying first to catch up and then to find a suitable jump-in point. Frankly, the experience totally sucks at a party – but with the right movie, it can be a helluva treat.
I got yanked into that sort of movie this morning. And believe me: the experience is about seventy times better on a Saturday morning. Compound this with the fact it was a movie on television and it’s cake. The cherry on top was that the movie was on Bravo and commercial-free (mostly).
The movie in question unfolded (for me) like this.
I came upon George C. Scott, in his prime – an actor I’ve come to appreciate a lot more in the last 10 years or so as I’ve grown to like, love and then adore Dr. Strangelove. He’s a great actor, without question, but he also has this twitchy sort of quality that makes him seem a little uncomfortable in his own skin. Coming onto a Patton-era performance, I stopped flipping channels. Immediately. Then a few other actors started to pop up that I recognized: Anne Bancroft, Burgess Meredith, Charles Durning (looking very young) and best of all…the sleaze-bag from Die Hard and Die Hard 2 (looking very very young). Colour me interested.
But what locked me down for the rest of the movie was the production design (and a Nazi musical number, but that’s neither here nor there) since most of the action unfolds in the interior of an airship, amid catwalks and ladders. The look of the sets is outstanding. (I’ve since learned that the film was directed by Robert Wise in 1975, so there’s early shades of Star Trek: The Motion Picture at play here.) There are also an unnecessary number of external shots of the air ship driving – no, plowing – through the sky like a monster on its way to devour a village. So we’re on a zeppelin. And we’ve got George C. Scott. And near as I can tell, he’s involved in some sort of international espionage, trying to trap a spy.
Spy movie. Air ship. Sweet.
As the saying goes, the plot thickens. Or perhaps, it was already quite thick. But for me, it was just starting to pulp up – a couple of FBI men show up at a house in the American suburbs. A housewife answers the door with “G-Men, lordy.” The woman has had a vision that this zeppelin is being driven straight into New York where it will be blown up over the city, killing thousands. Christ. Suddenly there’s a 9-11 angle, and this is clearly a WW2 movie from the 1970’s. I gotta see where this is going. And why haven’t I heard of this movie before?
The last piece of the puzzle? Turns out this little airship is called The Hindenburg.
For a movie (not unlike Titanic) where so much hangs on the catastrophe in the final reel, I’m not sure what to make of the ending. I don’t think it would be spoiling much of anything (unless you’re unfamiliar with history and Led Zeppelin album covers) to reveal that the ship makes a mighty mess of the landing pad. But what’s interesting, exciting and arguably cheesy about the conclusion is that when the zeppelin explodes, the film shifts to black and white and is (seemingly, I can’t verify this) cut together with the actual newsreel footage of the Hindenburg disaster. It’s all very stylish and yet impossibly dated. There are also an awful lot of people jumping and/or falling to their death a-la-Titanic, proving both that the trick is always effective and that it was not new to the screen in 1999. (Side note: if The Hindenburg is to be a model of 1930’s manners, it’s entirely chivalrous to throw your wife out the window to her death before succumbing to the fire within.)
Now here’s where I get back to the start. Coming late into a movie like this is a dream. Trying to pull the puzzle pieces together of who did what and who is who to whom and before the air ship explodes is a whole lot better than most things I can think to do on a Saturday morning. So imagine my surprise when I go digging for the title of this movie at http://www.allmovie.com/cg/avg.dll?p=avg&sql=1:22480 and find this:
But speaking of enjoying more, this movie, awash with character actors, disaster-movie plot twists and charming 70’s model effects, would make a splendid addition to any Fest.
Oh, the humanity.
I got yanked into that sort of movie this morning. And believe me: the experience is about seventy times better on a Saturday morning. Compound this with the fact it was a movie on television and it’s cake. The cherry on top was that the movie was on Bravo and commercial-free (mostly).
The movie in question unfolded (for me) like this.
I came upon George C. Scott, in his prime – an actor I’ve come to appreciate a lot more in the last 10 years or so as I’ve grown to like, love and then adore Dr. Strangelove. He’s a great actor, without question, but he also has this twitchy sort of quality that makes him seem a little uncomfortable in his own skin. Coming onto a Patton-era performance, I stopped flipping channels. Immediately. Then a few other actors started to pop up that I recognized: Anne Bancroft, Burgess Meredith, Charles Durning (looking very young) and best of all…the sleaze-bag from Die Hard and Die Hard 2 (looking very very young). Colour me interested.
But what locked me down for the rest of the movie was the production design (and a Nazi musical number, but that’s neither here nor there) since most of the action unfolds in the interior of an airship, amid catwalks and ladders. The look of the sets is outstanding. (I’ve since learned that the film was directed by Robert Wise in 1975, so there’s early shades of Star Trek: The Motion Picture at play here.) There are also an unnecessary number of external shots of the air ship driving – no, plowing – through the sky like a monster on its way to devour a village. So we’re on a zeppelin. And we’ve got George C. Scott. And near as I can tell, he’s involved in some sort of international espionage, trying to trap a spy.
Spy movie. Air ship. Sweet.
As the saying goes, the plot thickens. Or perhaps, it was already quite thick. But for me, it was just starting to pulp up – a couple of FBI men show up at a house in the American suburbs. A housewife answers the door with “G-Men, lordy.” The woman has had a vision that this zeppelin is being driven straight into New York where it will be blown up over the city, killing thousands. Christ. Suddenly there’s a 9-11 angle, and this is clearly a WW2 movie from the 1970’s. I gotta see where this is going. And why haven’t I heard of this movie before?
The last piece of the puzzle? Turns out this little airship is called The Hindenburg.
For a movie (not unlike Titanic) where so much hangs on the catastrophe in the final reel, I’m not sure what to make of the ending. I don’t think it would be spoiling much of anything (unless you’re unfamiliar with history and Led Zeppelin album covers) to reveal that the ship makes a mighty mess of the landing pad. But what’s interesting, exciting and arguably cheesy about the conclusion is that when the zeppelin explodes, the film shifts to black and white and is (seemingly, I can’t verify this) cut together with the actual newsreel footage of the Hindenburg disaster. It’s all very stylish and yet impossibly dated. There are also an awful lot of people jumping and/or falling to their death a-la-Titanic, proving both that the trick is always effective and that it was not new to the screen in 1999. (Side note: if The Hindenburg is to be a model of 1930’s manners, it’s entirely chivalrous to throw your wife out the window to her death before succumbing to the fire within.)
Now here’s where I get back to the start. Coming late into a movie like this is a dream. Trying to pull the puzzle pieces together of who did what and who is who to whom and before the air ship explodes is a whole lot better than most things I can think to do on a Saturday morning. So imagine my surprise when I go digging for the title of this movie at http://www.allmovie.com/cg/avg.dll?p=avg&sql=1:22480 and find this:
"The German Air Force is not at all what it used to be," says Anne Bancroft's Countess, about 16 minutes into The Hindenburg, pausing and then adding, "But then, nothing is these days." That seems to sum up the ponderous, irony-laden script and plot of Robert Wise's movie, which is posited — in true post-Watergate fashion — upon notions of conspiracy and cover-up behind the destruction of the German airship.And then this:
Like its namesake, The Hindenburg is big and bloated. Unlike the famous zeppelin, this film never gets off the ground, let alone soars.Granted this is only one movie web-site, but these opinions come from two separate (and let’s suppose independent) reviewers. Both cutting The Hindenburg to pieces for being tiresome and obvious. Is it a bad movie? Maybe, it is. But the experience of letting it unfold without context, back story or even complete integrity made it a good deal better than that. There’s something to be said about watching a crumby movie in this fashion. I can’t imagine I could ever have enjoyed it more.
But speaking of enjoying more, this movie, awash with character actors, disaster-movie plot twists and charming 70’s model effects, would make a splendid addition to any Fest.
Oh, the humanity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
