Columnists
Entries from October 2022
"RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM THE CINEMA RETRO ARCHIVE"
BY ERNIE MAGNOTTA
There's nothing I like better than getting
hold of a movie that I've been searching over three decades for and adding it
to my collection. At my age, there aren't many vintage films left that I don't
own in one format or another, so when I very pleased when I heard that the 1976 cult
classic Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw was
getting a Blu-ray release. This movie has somehow always managed to elude me.
It never seemed to play on any of my cable stations in the early 80s, we never
had a copy of it at the video store I worked at in the mid-80s and I was still
never able to find a copy of it anywhere throughout the 90s. To be honest, by
the time the 21st century hit, I completely forgot about this movie,
so I was pretty surprised and even more excited to find out that it was not
only being released on Blu-ray, but also with quite a few special features.
Why? To begin with, I'm a tremendous fan of the director; not to mention the
entire cast and, last, but not least, I just love fun, action/crime/drama
exploitation films from the 1970s.
Produced and directed by Mark Lester (Truck Stop Women, Roller Boogie, Class of
1984), written by Vernon Zimmerman (Unholy
Rollers, Fade to Black) and released by American International Pictures,
modern western Bobbie Jo and the Outlaw
tells the tale of quick-draw expert and Billy the Kid enthusiast Lyle Wheeler
(Marjoe Gortner, Earthquake, Food of the
Gods, Viva Knievel!, Starcrash) who, together with waitress and aspiring
country singer Bobbi Jo Baker (TV’s one and only Wonder Woman, Lynda Carter) experiences a dangerous cross country
adventure filled with love, robbery and murder.
So, was the movie worth the wait? I certainly
think so. It may not be in the same league as, say, Bonnie and Clyde (1967), but it's still an extremely enjoyable,
well-directed, written and acted low-budget feature that definitely deserves to
be seen. To begin with, Mark Lester's direction is not only solid, but he is
just at home directing the quiet, more character-driven and dramatic/romantic
scenes as he is directing a sequence involving heavy action and stunts. Next
up, Vernon Zimmerman's wonderful writing not only creates an engaging story,
but interesting and likeable three-dimensional characters as well. Lyle Wheeler
aka the Outlaw, seems to live by his own code and has definite ideas of good
and evil; right and wrong. Marjoe Gortner effortlessly and believably gets all
this across and makes his character quite likeable. (This may be my favorite
Gortner performance.) The stunning Lynda Carter gets to show a bit more range
then she did as Wonder Woman and is extremely convincing as the hopeful and
somewhat naive Bobbi Jo. The rest of the outrageously talented cast not only
add immensely to the film, but clearly came to play. Jesse Vint (Chinatown, Forbidden World) perfectly
plays Slick Callahan; a wild, not too bright cocaine fiend and boyfriend of
Bobbi Jo's sister, Pearl. Gorgeous Merrie Lynn Ross (Class of 1984, TVs General
Hospital), who also co-produced the film, brings a hardened heart quality
to slightly ditzy stripper Pearl, and the always welcome Belinda Balaski (Piranha, The Howling) shines as hippie
waitress Essie Beaumont. Rounding out the top-notch cast is Gene Drew (Truck Stop Women) as a no-nonsense
sheriff, B-movie legend Gerrit Graham (Beware!
The Blob, Phantom of the Paradise, The Annihilators, C.H.U.D. II: Bud the
C.H.U.D.) as a helpful hippie, Virgil Frye (Graduation Day), who replaced Dennis Hopper, as a macho gas station
attendant with something to prove, Peggy Stewart (Alias Billy the Kid, Beyond Evil) as Bobbi Jo's alcoholic mom, and
James Gammon (Major League) as a fast
talking salesman.
The New Mexico-lensed, low-budget feature
also benefits from some nice Albuquerque locations, Grammy winner Barry De
Vorzonâ's (The Young and the Restless,
Dillinger, Rolling Thunder) memorable score, Stanley Wright's lovely cinematography,
and "Those City Lights", a catchy country song by Bobby Bare (Tremors). A lot of people believe that
the only reason to see this film is for Lynda Carter's brief nude scene. While
Lynda looks absolutely beautiful and made both my eyes very happy, the movie
itself has more going for it than just that. All in all, it's an extremely
solid and fun piece of 1970s exploitation cinema that fans of this lost era of
filmmaking are sure to enjoy.
Bobbie Jo and the
Outlaw has
been released on Blu-ray by Kino Lorber. The Region 1 disc presents the movie in
its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Although the gorgeous transfer is slightly
grainy-looking at times (mostly in a few of the nighttime scenes), it never
detracts from the story, and the images are otherwise extremely clear making
the HD movie beautiful to look at. The disc also contains quite a few wonderful
special features including the original trailer, interviews with Mark Lester
(who mentions various aspects of the film such as casting, directing, budget
and the fact that the concept of the film was inspired by the classic Eagles
hit "Desperado"), Merrie Lynn Ross (who goes into detail about being both an
actor and a producer) and Belinda Balaski (who talks about how she got cast,
how she developed her character, and her recollection of working with Lynda
Carter) as well as a very interesting and informative audio commentary by
director Lester. If, like me, you're a fan of 70s action/crime cinema, I
recommend checking out Bobbie Jo and the
Outlaw.
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University
of California Press
Pages:
264
28
b&w illustrations
ISBN:
9780520380097
Paperback
RRP:
£27
REVIEW BY ADRIAN SMITH
When
the Argentine actress Isabel Sarli passed away in June 2019 the world lost one
of the most beautiful, glamorous, and let’s be honest, sexy women in cinema.
She was a superstar, a goddess, whose twenty-seven films from 1958 to 1984 with
partner-director and frequent co-star Armando Bó caused scandal and outrage in
their home country of Argentina, and yet outside of the Spanish-speaking world
she is relatively unknown. Aside from some films making it to New York’s 42nd
Street grindhouses they did not make much of an impact, which is a great pity,
so one hopes that this book, the first about Sarli to be published in English,
will go some way towards improving the situation.
Isabel
Sarli, nicknamed Coca, a former Miss Argentina who reached the semi-finals for
Miss Universe in 1955, made her film debut swimming nude in Thunder Among
the Leaves (1958), and immediately caused a sensation. The scene is often
said to be the first glimpse of full-frontal nudity in Argentinian cinema. She
immediately became a star and embarked on a remarkable partnership (and
personal relationship) with its director Armando Bó. She was said to be the
cleanest woman in cinema, as so many of the films featured her bathing or
showering. She was also not averse to frolicking naked in snow, on sand or in
the jungle. She was Insatiable (also the name of her last film with Bó
in 1984). In what is probably their most famous film Fuego (1969), she
trysts with her lover, her housemaid and even random workmen she picks up in
the street, whilst in Fever (1972) she memorably pleasures herself
whilst fantasising about horses copulating. With other film titles in their
career like Tropical Lust (1964), Naked Temptation (1966) and Intimacies
of a Prostitute (1972), it is no wonder she was a famous sexual icon whilst
at the same time attracting a vast amount of censorship and distribution issues
at home.
As
Victoria Ruétalo makes clear in this excellent book, Sarli was not only in
front of the camera; she was heavily involved in the production of the films. After
all, it was her body that was frequently the selling point, so it only seems
right that she had an element of power and control over what was going on. The
book explores their filmography in relation to Argentinian politics, in
particular in reference to the Perón era and its emphasis on the power of the
working man. It is surely no coincidence that Sarli’s first nude swim saw her
being watched by a local worker. Frequently Sarli’s sexuality was present in
relation to the working class, juxtaposing leisure with the hard labour they
had to perform. Sometimes, as in Meat (1968) where Sarli’s character is
kidnapped by some of her fellow workforce in the meat-packing factory and
gang-raped, the working man is the enemy. These films could be challenging as well
as titillating.
Ruétalo
also looks at the problems inherent in trying to research a subject when
archives have been destroyed. There was so much government censorship within
Argentina, but sadly the records were disposed of, and the historian is left
trying to find crumbs that still reveal something about what happened.
Thankfully the book is able to present us with what she was able to locate.
Their impact on the Spanish-speaking world is also assessed. Not only did Sarli
and Bó shoot their films around South America, making the most of the
spectacular locations on offer, but they were also seen in many countries as
well as Argentina. In Feugo they even managed a short trip to shoot
scenes in New York, adding further local appeal for those grindhouse audiences.
Violated Frames: Armando Bó and Isabel Sarli's Sexploits is an
essential read for anyone interested in learning more about this fascinating
piece of World Cinema history and the fabulous icon that was Isabel Sarli.
This
reviewer recorded an interview with Victoria Ruétalo for the podcast Second
Features, which can be found here: https://play.acast.com/s/second-features/fuego-1969-with-guest-victoria-ruetalo
You
can purchase the book in all the regular places, including here: https://www.ucpress.edu/book/9780520380097/violated-frames
By Ernie Magnotta
In the late 1970s and up until the mid-80s,
six-time, undefeated world karate champion Chuck Norris was making quite a name
for himself as a martial arts cinema superstar. By 1985, he would begin to tone
down the amount of karate used in his films and he soon became known simply as
an action movie hero. One of the films which helped this transition was the successful
and exciting 1986 action flick with an all-star 70s disaster movie-like cast
called The Delta Force in which he
starred as Scott McCoy. Norris then went on to make three more enjoyable films
before finally returning to the role of McCoy in 1990’s Delta Force 2.
When the brilliant, wealthy and ruthless drug
kingpin Ramon Cota (Billy Drago, Pale
Rider, 1987’s The Untouchables)
captures a group of undercover American DEA agents and makes them prisoners at his
South American drug compound where he eventually plans to execute them, Colonel
Scott McCoy (Norris) and his fearless Delta Force spring into action and attempt
to free the hostages as well as put an end to Cota’s lucrative drug cartel
before any more of its cocaine shipments can reach the United States.
Shot in the Philippines, directed by Chuck’s
brother, Aaron Norris (Braddock: Missing
in Action III), and written by Lee Reynolds (Allan Quatermain and the Lost City of Gold), Delta Force 2, which continued Chuck’s association with now legendary
film studio The Cannon Group, has, over the years, been labelled a bit of a
misstep in Chuck’s filmography. First of all, it has been said that the film
isn’t really a sequel to the original Delta
Force. It just uses the title and Chuck’s character name from the first
movie, but that’s about it. I guess that’s true. Next, the script usually comes
under fire for containing many predictable scenes/action movie clichés. These
include the overly-happy partner with the perfect (and pregnant) wife who we
just know will both meet a bad end early on as well as re-working scenes and
ideas from not only other films, but from other Norris adventures as well (part
of the plot seems to be taken from Chuck’s 1984 hit Missing in Action and there are also slightly re-worked scenes from
1987’s The Untouchables and 1979’s Moonraker). While all of this is also
true, these sequences and ideas are done with just enough variation that we let
them slide and still thoroughly enjoy the film. The man responsible for making
these scenes work is director Aaron Norris who films many well-directed and
exciting action sequences and keeps the movie engaging and fun. The last bit of
criticism this movie gets usually has to do with the acting which has been
labeled sub-par. This is just another critique I disagree with. While no one’s
performance in this film would be considered for an Academy Award (it’s not
that type of film, critics), the amazingly talented cast does very well with
the material given to them.
Of course, the main reason any
self-respecting action aficionado would spend almost two hours watching this
film is due to the presence of the man himself, Chuck Norris. What more can
really be said about Chuck? He’s low-key, likeable, sometimes humorous, yet
believably deadly when necessary. As usual, he’s perfect for this type of film
and his enormous fan base will not be disappointed.
A cinematic action hero is only as good as
his nefarious adversary and when it comes to vile villains; it’s tough to top
Billy Drago. The extremely talented Drago, who also acted alongside Chuck in
both Invasion U.S.A. and Hero and the Terror, plays amoral drug dealer Cota in a totally convincing way and,
throughout the film, exudes ice-cold, creepy evil. Drago really makes you hate
his character which works all the more once Chuck’s Colonel McCoy gets the
upper hand on him.
The impressive acting doesn’t stop there, as
the enjoyable film is loaded with even more top-notch talent. To begin with,
the always welcome John P. Ryan (It’s
Alive, Runaway Train) gives an extremely likeable and humorous performance
as a US General who just loves to kick ass. Fans of 60s and 70s cinema will be
happy to see the great Richard Jaeckel (The
Dirty Dozen, The Devil’s Brigade, Grizzly, Day of the Animals) as a
tough-as-nails DEA agent. Next up, is Paul Perri (Manhunter) as Chuck’s ill-fated partner; not to mention the highly
recognizable Mark Margolis (Scarface,
Breaking Bad) as evil General Olmedo. Last, but not least, legendary
actor/stuntman Dick Warlock (Jaws, 1981’s
Halloween II) shows up briefly (blink
and you’ll miss him) as a DEA agent on stakeout.
During filming, a helicopter crash killed
four crew members and the pilot. The movie is dedicated to their memory.
Delta Force 2 (which is also known
as Delta Force 2: The Colombian
Connection and Delta Force 2:
Operation Stranglehold) has been
released on a region one Blu-ray by Kino Lorber and is presented in its
original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. The beautiful HD transfer boasts sharp, crystal
clear images as well as just as clear audio. Other than the original theatrical
trailer along with trailers for Chuck’s extremely entertaining actioners An Eye for an Eye and Hero and the Terror (which are both available
on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber), the disc contains no special features. However, if
you’re in the mood to sit back, relax, not think too hard and just watch our
man Chuck almost singlehandedly mop up the floor with the bad guys, then Delta Force 2 certainly delivers the
goods.
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“ANESTHESIA
ON FILM”
By
Raymond Benson
Preston
Sturges’ filmmaking career in Hollywood between 1940-1944 is unparalleled. He
is often called the first “writer-director” who would helm his own screenplays
(actually this is untrue, since Charles Chaplin had been doing it since 1914,
and Orson Welles was also doing it in the early 40s), but there is no question
that Sturges became an auteur of sorts in those glorious five years. His flame
burned brightly for that short period, and then it sadly weakened and
eventually blew out.
One
of the reasons for the filmmaker’s demise was the unfortunate production of The
Great Moment, a biopic of a 19th Century dentist named Dr. William Thomas
Green Morton, who is (mostly) credited as discovering the use of ether as an
anesthetic for surgery.
Sturges,
who was known for his acerbic comedies like The Great McGinty (1940), The
Lady Eve (1941), and Sullivan’s Travels (1942), was apparently
obsessed with Morton’s story and had been working on a script as early as 1939
to be directed by Henry Hathaway. That project was shelved, and then Sturges
began his run of directing his own scripts in 1940. He resurrected the Morton biopic
on his own in 1942. It was based on the book Triumph Over Pain (1940) by
René Fülüp-Miller,
and that also became the title of Sturges’ script. The film was shot before the
making of The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek and Hail the Conquering Hero!
(both released in 1944). But Paramount, Sturges’ studio, didn’t like the Morton
biopic Sturges had made, and they took control away from the writer-director,
retitled it The Great Moment, and re-edited it. The film was finally
released two years after its production in 1944, after Miracle and Conquering
Hero. By then, Sturges had already left Paramount in disgust. The Great
Moment bombed at the box office and critics hated it. Sturges made a few
more films for other studios, but his career never regained the peak of his
earlier Paramount successes.
The
Great Moment exhibits
how Dr. Morton (Joel McCrea) discovers that ether allows him to successfully
pull a tooth from patient Eben Frost (Sturges’ stalwart character actor William
Demarest), so he develops a specially shaped bottle from which patients can
inhale the ether vapors. History has shown that Morton pulled pieces of his
“idea” from other doctors and his mentor, surgeon Professor Warren (Harry
Carey), and the story illustrates this. After Morton’s discovery, he endured
attacks to his claim, especially when he attempts to patent the process. The
medical profession is quick to condemn Morton for what they perceive as
“monetizing” the method by patenting it, even though Morton has no intention of
making a profit. He simply doesn’t want to reveal the ingredients of what’s in
the bottle. Morton and his wife, Elizabeth (Betty Field), withstand hardships
as Morton stubbornly pursues his claims in courts and even in a petition to the
president of the United States.
Doesn’t
sound like a comedy, does it? Well, it isn’t. There are humorous bits and
pieces in The Great Moment (mostly from Demarest), but the studio was
correct in determining that the film was not in keeping with the previous
“Preston Sturges Comedies.” Never mind that Sturges had likely made a good
biopic with a message about sacrifice. Paramount deleted scenes, rearranged the
narrative flow, and emphasized the few comic bits—and then they marketed the
film as if it were a Preston Sturges Comedy. It’s no wonder that
audiences were disappointed.
In
viewing The Great Moment today, one can see that it’s not a good film. It
really is “anesthesia on celluloid.” It is, as the late filmmaker Peter
Bogdanovich calls it in a supplement included on the new Kino Lorber disk, a
“mess.” The thing is, Sturges can’t be blamed for it. But for Preston Sturges
fans, it is an interesting document. We can see that there are indeed Sturges’
fingerprints all through the picture, and many of the Sturges “stock company”
are present (such as Franklin Pangborn, Porter Hall, and others). The irony and
bite that is pure Sturges is often there in the dialogue.
In
short, The Great Moment is a great failure, but one that illustrates how
Hollywood tended to squash talented auteurs who bucked the system in the 1940s
(like Sturges and Welles).
Kino
Lorber’s new Blu-ray edition looks pristine and sharp in its glorious black and
white. The disk includes the previously mentioned supplement, “Triumph Over
Pain: A Celebration of Preston Sturges,” which is a three-way Zoom call between
Tom Sturges (Preston’s son), Bogdanovich, and film historian Constantine Nasr. This
is a lot of fun and very informative (perhaps more entertaining than the
feature film!). Also of interest is a lengthy Introduction by Nasr, which goes
into the history of the problematic production. The theatrical trailers for
this and other Sturges’ releases round out the package.
The
Great Moment is
for fans of Preston Sturges, to be sure, but also for historians interested in documentation
of Hollywood’s miscalculations and bone-headed decisions when it came to
filmmakers who likely knew much more about what they were doing than the
studios behind them.
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“A
FEAR OF FUGUES”
By
Raymond Benson
David
Lynch’s challenging 1997 feature, Lost Highway, has had a tortured home
video release history. After an initial VHS release, and then one on DVD,
rights issues and a lack of interest by media companies prevented a Blu-ray
release in the USA for many years. Less-than-ideal quality imported Blu-ray
editions from various countries were circulated among Lynch fans and collectors.
Kino Lorber finally put out a decent Blu-ray in 2019, but it was criticized by
home video review sites and by Lynch himself as having inferior quality, as it didn’t
go through the stringent approval process to which the director was accustomed.
Cinema Retro reviewed that edition, finding it not terrible and
certainly adequate enough since it seemed that it was all that we were ever
going to get.
Now,
however, The Criterion Collection has issued a new, director-approved 4K UHD
edition that is an astonishingly gorgeous digital restoration with a new 5.1
surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack and an alternate one of uncompressed
stereo. Criterion’s Lost Highway can be purchased as a 2-disk set
containing a 4K UHD disk of the film alone plus a Blu-ray disk of the film and
all the supplements, or in a single disk Blu-ray package.
Much
of what this reviewer has to say about the film itself is repeated from the
earlier 2019 review.
Lost
Highway is
a disturbing and surreal work of art from Luis Buñuel’s heir apparent,
and it’s a doozy. Lynch described the film as a “psychogenic fugue,” which is a
fancy term for a dissociative disorder. The story concerns musician Fred
Madison (Bill Pullman), who is having marriage trouble with his beautiful wife,
Renee (Patricia Arquette). An outside force seems to be watching and harassing
the couple by leaving intimate videotapes of themselves on their
doorstep. Throw in some nightmares and the appearance of a “mystery man” (the
very creepy Robert Blake) with powers that could only exist as dream logic, and
Fred eventually loses it. Suddenly he’s arrested for killing his wife. But
then—uh oh—while he’s sitting in a jail cell, he becomes… someone else.
The cops find Pete Dayton (Balthazar Getty) in Fred’s place. Puzzled, they let Pete
go, since he’s not the man they want. Now there’s a kind of alternate universe
thing going on, because Patricia Arquette now plays Alice, the mistress of the
cruel Mr. Eddy (Robert Loggia), who may in truth be a porn producer named Dick
Laurent.
Confused?
Many audience members were baffled at the time of Lost Highway’s initial
release. The picture marked the first in what might be called the “fugue
trilogy” (the other parts being Mulholland Drive and INLAND EMPIRE),
in which main characters become other people during the flow of the tales.
After a second or third viewing and examining Lynch’s narrative conceits in the
other movies, one can get a sense of what it’s all about.
And
this reviewer is not going to tell you. Just know that Lost Highway is
about a man who murders his wife, and he is unable to live with himself—or
inside his own mind—because of it. The film generates a good amount of dread,
and it is pure Lynch. It marks a transition from earlier, more
narrative-friendly pictures, to more dreamlike, experimental works of art that
defy description—other than that they are “David Lynch Films.”
Peter
Deming’s cinematography is fully exploited in Criterion’s new restoration. His
use of light and shadow is remarkable, and the bits in which Fred walks into a
dark hallway and disappears, and then later reappears from the
blackness, are canny metaphors for the themes in the movie.
As
opposed to the earlier Kino disk, Criterion has included some choice
supplements. Most notable is the 1997 feature documentary, Pretty as a
Picture: The Art of David Lynch, which served as a behind-the-scenes
“making of Lost Highway” piece as well as a look at Lynch’s career as an
artist (painting/sculpture) and filmmaker. Highway cast members and crew
are interviewed along with Lynch himself, and there are clips from earlier
films, too. An audio-only excerpt from the audiobook of Lynch and Kristine McKenna’s
biography, Room to Dream, covers the period in the mid-90s when Highway
was made. Two archival featurettes about the making of the film and
interviews with cast/crew are also welcome. The theatrical re-release trailer
rounds out the package. The booklet feature interview excerpts from the
publication Lynch on Lynch. Note that the feature film does not have
chapter breaks, in keeping with other Lynch-approved Blu-ray and DVD releases.
Lost
Highway has
become more mysterious and admirable with age, and Criterion’s new release does
the work justice. For fans of David Lynch, dark—very dark—crime dramas,
surreal cinema, and bravura filmmaking.
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Cinema Memories: A People's History of Cinema-going in
1960s Britain
Melvyn Stokes, Matthew Jones & Emma Pett
Bloomsbury/
British Film Institute
Published:
March 2022
Hardback
237
pages
10
b&w illustrations
ISBN:
9781911239888
RRP:
£76
One evening in June
2016 at the Picturehouse on Piccadilly Circus, cinemagoers were transported
back fifty years, where a uniformed commissionaire made them queue outside for a
screening of One Million Years B.C. Once inside there were usherettes, a
cinema manager chain-smoking and shouting at the staff, dozens of people sporting
the best Sixties fashion, cavemen and cavewomen (cavepeople?) dragging
unwitting participants into some neanderthal roleplay (including this writer),
and even a film producer with a dollybird on his arm. After witnessing a
competition to find the next Hammer glamour star, which was interrupted by
placard-wielding feminists, the public were finally able to enter the cinema
screen. The experience did not end there though: during the film there was
constant disturbance from usherettes with torches and people fighting or
sneaking in and out of the fire exit. Once it was all over the audience stood
for the national anthem (or ran out in mock disgust). This was no ordinary
evening at the cinema, this was a fantastic event organised by Dr. Matthew
Jones of De Montfort University (the cinema manager himself, whose performance
was so convincing that the Picturehouse received complaints from the public
about his behaviour towards the usherettes), with the aim of bringing to life the
fantastic research project ‘Cultural Memory and British Cinema-going of the
1960s’.
Through
questionnaires and interviews with hundreds of people over a three-year period,
the project gathered memories of what it was like to go to the cinema in the
1960s. Given the age of participants this meant that most of the memories were
connected to recollections of childhood and adolescence, of first dates and
first sexual experiences, of happiness and occasional danger, and of community
and political awareness. This of course makes sense. When one considers cinemagoing,
in particular those favourite cinemas of one’s youth, it is the whole
experience that is thought of fondly, not just the film itself; there are the
posters outside and in the foyer, the elaborate décor, the cinema manager, the
box office, the concessions and then the screen itself, where often one came in
after the film had started. There were usherettes in uniforms armed with
torches to make sure no one was getting too carried away on the back row, or to
police single men moving too close to younger audience members. There was a
thick smoky haze, which was not affected by attempts to have a separate
non-smoking section of the auditorium, and some cinemas were art deco palaces whilst
others were literal fleapits.
This terrific book
brings together the results of this research in a non-immersive experience which
is sure to bring back memories of the reader’s own cinema memories. The book is
organised into topics, with the memories of the ‘Swinging Sixties’ both
conforming to established cultural history as well as questioning it. After
all, the Sixties were not swinging for everyone, and it often depended on
whether you lived in the north or the south. Some people do remember the films
of course, and the stars, many of whom were role models and fashion icons. In
the chapter on post-colonial audiences, such as the ‘Windrush Generation’, some
participants recall learning about English culture and behaviour by attending
the cinema. Audience memories of Hollywood are also discussed, as are those who
recalled attending European and world cinema, often in a more arthouse-type
cinema than the usual family cinema or fleapit.
This research is an
excellent reminder of the importance of the cinema experience in that
culturally-significant decade (political changes and their impacts on the
public, such as the legalisation of both abortion and homosexuality in 1967 are
discussed in reference to films such as Alfie and Victim), and it
also serves to point out just how much has changed over the last fifty years:
intermissions are rare, the smoking has thankfully gone, and popcorn has
replaced the choc ice as the snack of choice. Cinema Memories: A People's
History of Cinema-going in 1960s Britain may provoke nostalgia in some
older readers, whilst for younger readers it’s a fascinating window into an
almost lost world. Admittedly it’s not quite the same as that night out at the
cinema in 2016, but at least you are less likely to have to pretend to be a
caveman.
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