"More Than thea Rainbow" is director Dan Wechsler's homage to New York street photographer Matt Weber. What is a "street photographer"? He/she is someone who simply wanders around the city they reside in snapping photographs at a rapid-fire rate in the hopes of capturing some spontaneous bit of magic. Weber prowls the back streets and main drags of Manhattan, the beaches of Coney Island and anywhere else he might find everyday people engaging in interesting activities. These might include playing with children, having casual sex in an open area, frolicking at the seaside, sleeping on sidewalks or park benches or engaging in violence. Weber's photos tell the story of a city: the good, the bad and the ugly. Weber looks like an unmade bed and talks in machine-gun fire fashion to such an extent that it often becomes exhausting just listening to him. However, he has an interesting story to tell and his photographs, which are seen abundantly throughout the film, are indeed mesmerizing. Weber began driving a taxi cab during the 1970s when Scorese and De Niro immortalized the profession in their classic 1976 Taxi Driver. In those days, Gotham was a deteriorating behemoth, with crime and pollution out of control. Weber ultimately sold his cab (an action he still sometimes regrets) in order to take to it to the streets to photograph the most exciting city on the planet. He admits that he got a significant financial boost to his meager income when he accepted $500,000 to move from his apartment many years ago. (The developer ended up going bankrupt before he could renovate the building into a luxury complex.) With a degree of financial security, Weber shoots photos virtually non-stop, admitting that the most memorable photos come about unexpectedly. He asks no permission from his subjects and shoots their photos before most of them have time to react or object. He's strictly old school, shooting in B&W on 35mm film. He describes the wonders of using his darkroom equipment to see an image appear from a blank piece of paper before his eyes-- and the viewer ends up sharing in his enthusiasm. (He does acknowledge the expense and limitations of 35mm vs. digital and seems to be weakening in his refusal to work in the format.)
The movie, which is set to funky jazz music by Theolonius Monk and Keith Gurland, is a rich looking production, considering its a rather low-budget affair. Wechsler, like his subject, is also old school and has shot at least some of the film in 35mm. The movie is bit schizophrenic in terms of its content. Although Weber is clearly the main subject, Wechsler also interviews numerous colleagues of his who are also street photographers. The problem is that the film begins to treat them not only as people who comment on Weber's life and work, but also subject matters themselves. Thus, the movie often drifts from its original intention, which is to present Weber as the focus of the piece. The other photographers are an interesting lot, however. Some are likable and engaging, others are so pretentious they remind one of the types of pretentious snobs who are satirized in Woody Allen comedies. One of the photographers, Eric Kroll, seems a bit out of place here. He does offer some biting criticism of Weber's work, which is refreshing in an otherwise cinematic wet kiss to its subject, but Kroll is not a street photographer in the traditional sense. Rather, he specializes in elaborate, staged sexual fetishes and there are plenty of eye-popping examples of his work in the film. He is also inexplicably joined throughout the interview by a lovely, well-endowed young lady who is virtually silent and sits attired in a corset that presents her two main assets in an almost 3-D effect. But what is she, or Kroll for that matter, doing in the film? They seem placed there purely for purposes of titillation.
The movie is at its best when it sticks with Weber himself. He relates his transformation from taxi driver to photographer and along the way there are interviews with his wife (presumably ex-wife, as it is revealed they were in the process of getting a divorce during filming.) She is a rather unique character in her own way. She damns Weber with faint praise by listing his attributes while simultaneously telling viewers he's virtually impossible to live with. In a bizarre moment, she also assures the viewer that, not to worry, despite problems in the marriage, their sex life was satisfactory.
More Than the Rainbow's greatest attributes are Weber's photographs and director Wechsler wisely lets the pictures do the talking throughout most of the film. His cameras linger lovingly on some fascinating slice-of-life shots that are mini works of art. A homeless man with a resemblance to Van Gogh sleeps on the sidewalk under posters that promote an exhibition of the artist's works. The beginnings of a brutal fight between two men arguing in the street are caught on camera. Small children in Harlem stand outside a seedy bar in their Sunday finest on Easter. A group of young sailors give Weber a cautionary glance as they move past the porn palaces of old Times Square. Weber is clearly among those who extol the virtues of that era. Many don't. The past is always glamorized but, while the edginess and danger of New York in those days does have an appeal in retrospect and in Weber's photographs, for many of us the "new" New York, with its cleaner streets and low crime rates, is a far better place. Still, it's fun to revisit the bad old days through Weber's extraordinary photos.
More Than the Rainbow is an ambitious and highly entertaining film about a genuine New York "character" who is every bit as intriguing as the subjects he photographs.
The film opens in New York at the Quad Cinema on May 2 and in L.A. at the Arena Cinema on May 24.
Sheila Exteberria and Ed Ryan in Nathan Silver's new indie film Soft in the Head.
By Don L. Stradley
There is a
startling scene in Nathan Silver’s Soft
In The Head where Natalia, a reckless woman/child who causes trouble
wherever she goes, looks at her
reflection in a cracked compact mirror. The effect of the crack distorts
her face to where she looks like one of the garish women in a Willem De Kooning
painting.It’s jolting, for we’ve
suspected Natalia is a monster of sorts, the type of young woman who is
destined to be a skid row casualty, but is still young enough to manipulate a
few men here and there. In the cracked
reflection, we get a glimpse of Natalia’s true self, or at the very least, a
peek at her grotesque future.
When we first
see Natalia she’s being smacked around by her boyfriend. She leaves him, but
intends to go back at some point because she believes the reunion will be
passionate. Love and self-destruction seem abutted in her mind. After
showing up drunk at the family home of her friend Hannah, Natalia wanders into
the night, oblivious to the catcalls from street people who mock her. She
intends to spend the night on the sidewalk, until she meets Maury, a
well-meaning fellow who has turned his home into a sanctuary for derelicts. Maury invites Natalia over for dinner where
she sits among men seemingly plucked from a touring production of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.
Natalia isn’t intimidated, though. She’s
in her element, letting a bunch of homeless men fawn over her.
Even at her
lowest, Natalia’s able to work her way into the hearts of vulnerable males,
including Hannah’s shy brother Nathan. He’s so smitten by her that he
steals one of his mother’s necklaces for her, which sets off a major row in his
very old-fashioned Jewish household. Nathan’s parents seem a bit thick – their
son can barely dress himself or hold a conversation (Natalia describes him at
one point as “mildly autistic…like a baby…”) but they spend an entire scene badgering
him to meet a nice girl and give them some grandchildren. When he
announces that Natalia has won his heart, their shock is off the charts.
have already compared Soft In The Head
to the films of John Cassavetes, but the comparison works at only the most
superficial level. Cassavetes’ casts were headed by highly charismatic
Hollywood actors – Peter Falk, Gena Rowlands, Ben Gazzara, etc. Soft In The Head has no such glossy
veneer, being made up of unknown New York actors who often look like they’re
reaching, trying to be “real,” but also struggling to be amusing.
Silver, to his credit, allows his actors plenty of room for a kind of
realistic give and take, but his scenes can’t match one of Cassavetes’
high-wire acts. Also, Silver’s not aiming for the kind of philosophical
statements that gave Cassavetes’ films an ersatz profundity. Silver’s aiming at smaller targets, but even
so, his scenes feel self-conscience, as if he’s a bit too in love with the idea
of being a filmmaker. Silver lets the camera linger on
Natalia while she combs her hair out of her face, or sucks at her crooked teeth;
it’s rare in recent movies that a camera has so desperately adored a female
subject, as if Silver, too, is under Natalia’s spell. (Still, even with
shots that go on too long, Silver brings the movie in at a tight 75 minutes,
something Cassavetes could never do!)
Soft In The Head doesn’t remind me of Cassavetes as
much as it reminds me of certain films, novels and plays of the 1960s (i.e. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Dutchman, Tell
Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon). It was a genre with no name, but the
distinctive trait was a melting pot of disparate characters (usually one African-American,
a Jew, a war veteran, a hooker, a homosexual, an old man, and a hippie). They’d
be thrown together, usually during a power failure or a housing shortage, or they’d
be stuck in the same subway car. Tempers would flair. The stories usually ended with a murder or a
suicide, the remaining characters huddling together, waiting for the
police. Soft In The Head goes
that way, too, but not in the way you might imagine.
the usual narrative pattern we’d expect in a film like this one. He’s less
interested in developing plots than in throwing some characters together to see
what transpires. You can feel his love for these people, but this technique doesn’t
allow the characters to take charge of the story. They have altercations that feel like acting
class exercises, but nothing moves the plot forward. The sense we get is that the story is
fidgeting, chasing its own tail. More, for instance, could have been done with
Maury and his band of idiots. Where
Silver really dropped the ball was in the storyline involving Natalia and
Nathan (their names even mirror each other) are two sides of the same person.
Both are painfully immature, unable to stake out a spot in the adult world: one
is homeless; the other still lives with
his parents. Both could be described as
soft in the head. Nathan is pure,
knowing nothing of the weird games that go on between males and females, while
Natalia, dense though she may be, has mastered those games. Nathan is horrified
by Natalia’s revelation that she actually enjoys being abused, but just when
that part of the story is gaining momentum, Silver lets it trail off…
Perhaps from a
youthful flaunting of the rules, Silver shuffles the deck on us and gives us an
ending that is unexpected, but also unengaging. He might have been better served if he’d
chosen one of his plot strings and followed it to a conclusion, rather than
floating from one plot to the next. Silver has some good instincts, though, and I’ll
look forward to the day when he acquaints himself with the nuts and bolts of
storytelling. As it is, Soft In The
Head is a strangely intriguing work. It’s flawed, but unique. No one but Silver could have made it.
is believable as Natalia, bringing to the role a kind of ratty vulnerability.
There are some good turns by other actors, too, including Ed Ryan as
the enigmatic Maury, and Theodore
Bouloukos as David, the most volatile of
Maury’s guests. Carl Kranz, bless him,
has an almost thankless role as Nathan. Here’s
an isolated young guy who decorates his room with Woody Allen posters as
if he’s searching for the right nebbish to model himself after, but instead of
meeting Diane Keaton he meets Natalia. Something tells me he’ll soon tear
down Sleeper and replace it with The Blue Angel.
The addictive retro-based web site Hill Place offers an extensive analysis and appreciation of John Ford's The Were Expendable, an homage to the heroic U.S. Navy men who manned the P.T. Boats in WWII. The flick starred Robert Montgomery and John Wayne and is today considered one of the best movies in the WWII genre. However, at the time of its release at the very end of the conflict, it was vastly under-appreciated by a war-weary public that just wanted to indulge in relatively lightweight fare. (The same fate befell Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life, which was considered by many to be too downbeat for audiences that had just undergone years of personal suffering).
Click here to read the article about They Were Expendable and realize why it represents Ford at his best.
poster screamed: “Most criminals answer to the law. The world’s most savage
executioner must answer to Bronson.” Since the late 1960s, Charles Bronson’s
name on a marquee was a guarantee of unchained action. When The Evil That Men Do opened in 1984, fans
were hit with the expected violence─but this time they were also assaulted with
thick layers of sadism, sleaze and depravity. And they loved it.
Born in 1921, Charles
Bronson (originally Bunchinsky) was a dirt-poor Pennsylvania coal miner before
he was drafted and later used the GI Bill to study acting. After dozens of
small roles, he became a popular supporting player in hit films like The
Magnificent Seven (1960) and The Great Escape (1963)─then went
overseas to star in European pictures like Farewell, Friend (1967), Once
Upon a Time in the West (1967) and Rider on the Rain (1970).
Although ignored in the States─where they were shelved or
sparsely-released─Bronson’s foreign films were international blockbusters and
made him one of the biggest superstars in the world. With the vigilante-themed
American movie Death Wish (1974), Bronsonfinally became huge at
U.S. theaters and he followed it with worldwide hits including Breakout
(1975) and Breakheart Pass (1975). By the early 1980s, weak entries like
Love and Bullets (1979) and Borderline (1980) weren’t doing much
at North American box offices, but the Bronson name (with the right material)
could still secure financing.
Looking for suitable material was independent producer
Pancho Kohner─son of Paul Kohner, the successful Hollywood agent and the
longtime representative of Bronson. Pancho Kohner had already produced the
Bronson vehicles St. Ives (1976), The White Buffalo (1977), and Love
and Bullets. He recalls, “[Bronson] always liked to satisfy his audience.
He knew what his audience expected of him. He didn’t want to deviate too far.
He did a couple of films that were different, but mostly he knew what his
audience expected of him and that’s what he wanted to do.”
look for material that will entertain,” Bronson once said. “I’ve sustained
because I’m sympatico with the material I do and the other way around. An actor
shouldn’t just think of doing things he
might enjoy doing. I think first of the audience, not of myself, but of the
movie fans all around the world who want to be entertained.”
Kohner’s search led to an action novel called
The Evil That Men Do. Published in November of 1978 by Times
Books, it dealt with a legendary assassin named Holland who
travels to Guatemala to take out Clement Moloch aka“The Doctor”─a
feared torturer described as “one of the most hideously depraved men in all the
darkest ranks of history…a man who stood in blood to the ankles.” Kirkus Reviews called the book “A
frightening, razor-slice thriller that holds the reader hostage until the last
shuddering climax.” Author R. Lance Hill’s previous novel, King of White Lady (1975) which was about a cocaine dealer, was
optioned several times by movie producers, but it stayed unfilmed. Bronson
initially passed on The Evil That Men Do, but in 1980 the screen rights were
purchased by a partnership consisting of Kohner, Bronson, Jill Ireland
(Bronson’s actress wife) and director J. Lee Thompson. Hill was commissioned to
turn his novel into a script.
J. Lee Thompson’s long directing career began
in the 1940s in England and his exceptional British films included the
suspenseful Tiger Bay (1959). Thompson relocated to Hollywood in 1960,
and the following year he helmed two action-suspense classics: Guns of
Navarone (which earned him an Oscar nomination) and Cape Fear. His
output included over a dozen more pictures before he first teamed with Bronson
and Kohner on St. Ives and The
While Kohner shopped the Evil That Men Do package, Bronson starred in Death Wish II for the Israeli filmmaking cousins Menahem
Golan and Yoram Globus, who had recently moved into the Hollywood movie market
by purchasing the distribution/production sleaze outfit the Cannon Group. In
1982 the Death Wish sequel went
to number-one at the U.S. box-office, was a huge international hit, revitalized
the Bronson name, and gave a major boost to Cannon’s image. Naturally, Golan
and Globus wanted a follow-up.
Kohner explains, “Golan wanted to do
Charlie’s next picture and [The Evil That Men Do was] the one that we were going to do next. We were going off to
Cannes to pre-sell foreign territories. I explained to Menahem that the rights
to the book and the cost of the screenplay was $200,000. Menahem said, ‘Well,
as a producer, that’s your contribution.’ I said, ‘Well, that’s very nice, but
I put up a third, Charlie put up a third, and J. Lee Thompson put up a third.
We must certainly reimburse them, if not me.’ He said, ‘Oh, I can’t do that.’
Menahem and I liked each other, but he didn’t want to back down. It became a
matter of principle. We were leaving the next day for Cannes. [Golan] said,
‘I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to Cannes anyway and we’ll pre-sell the next
Bronson picture. When we come back in two weeks, we’ll find another story and
we will not make The Evil That Men Do. That’s how we came to do 10 to
Midnight . It wasn’t
until later that we made The Evil That Men Do.”
(The following review is based on a screening of the show on Amazon Prime. The program can be streamed for free to subscribers of the Amazon Prime service. For more on Amazon Prime, click the advertisement in the right column of this web page)
By Lee Pfeiffer
Although I don't have a scholarly knowledge of Jerry Lewis' career, having literally grown up during his heyday as a top boxoffice star, I thought I was fairly conversant in discussing both his successes and failures, of which there have been more than a few of each. Thus, I was surprised to learn that Lewis was releasing a rare 1959 NBC broadcast in which he starred as The Jazz Singer....yes, that Jazz Singer. The show was viewed by Lewis as his personal tribute to his idol, Al Jolson, who starred in the 1927 original feature film that became the first major "talkie". The concept is so corny it could be served on a cobb but there is no denying there is a timeless appeal to this story of a wayward son who opts to go into show business, thereby breaking the heart of his cantor father who wanted him to carry on the family tradition and sing in the synagogue. Danny Thomas had already starred in a 1952 remake and Neil Diamond would star in the 1980 feature film that earned scorn from critics but produced a hell of a top-selling soundtrack album.
The NBC broadcast is significant for a couple of reasons. For one, it represented a rare color presentation on NBC, the first network to go "all color" in the 1960s. At the time, however, a color television was a distant dream for most Americans and the vast majority of viewers undoubtedly saw the program in black and white as part of NBC's Lincoln-Mercury Startime anthology series. The show wouldn't last as it fell victim to more popular fare on other networks and it isn't known what the critical reaction was to the broadcast. The show was also significant in that it marked Lewis' first attempt at dramatic acting. Yes, there were those fleeting moments of pathos in most of his zany big screen comedies, but here Lewis plays it straight as Joachim Rabinowitz (aka "Joey Robbin"), who has been alienated from his father for five years due to his decision to perform as a "jazz singer". In reality, he is performing as Jerry Lewis, his act consisting of various shtick that includes crooning love songs, performing slapstick and telling jokes. (The latter two aspects of his act had to be included as, after hearing Lewis' warbling, no one would conceivably buy the notion that people would pay money to hear him sing. To coin the old phrase, "He couldn't carry a tune if it had handles!".) Joey impresses a famous singer Ginny Gibson (Anna Maria Albergehtti, who had just finished shooting Cinderfella with Lewis). Ginny arranges for him to secure a slot on her national variety show that could make Joey an instant star. In the interim, he makes a fateful decision to return for a surprise visit to his estranged father in order to celebrate his dad's 60th birthday. Initially things go well at the family gathering, but the old man (Eduard Franz) ends up chastising his son for not following in his footsteps and for ending a tradition of cantors that has lasted five generations. Once again estranged, Joey shows up to rehearse the all-important TV show appearance...only to learn that his father has collapsed and is gravely ill. His dying wish would be to have Joey take his place and sing at the synagogue. In order to do so, however, Joey will have to forego his one opportunity to gain fame and fortune. The plot creaks with cliches and age and you realize just how much Neil Diamond's rendition of "America" helped bail him out of tear-jerker conclusion. Nevertheless, Lewis performs admirably. He is never out of his depth in the dramatic aspects of the show and delivers a convincing performance that blends his usual zany gags with a genuine attempt to deliver a moving performance. The supporting cast is also good, including Molly Picon in full-blown "Jewish mother" mode. The quality of the broadcast is surprisingly crisp and clean, having undergone a restoration process.
This is not a TV classic but it is an interesting curiosity and any Jerry Lewis fan will want to experience this unusual, rarely-seen gem.
(The Jazz Singer is also available on DVD from the Jerry Lewis archives and includes a b&w version of the show as well as a featurette with his son Chris Lewis, who discusses the history of the broadcast and its restoration for home video. Click here to order from Amazon)
"Casting By" is an extraordinary new documentary by filmmaker Tom Donahue who spent years accumulating interviews and archival materials for this look at the contributions of casting directors to the motion picture business. Most people are well aware of the important roles that composers, costume designers, editors and production designers play in the creation of movies-- but if you say "casting directors", the average person's eyes glaze over. Sounds boring, doesn't it? Donahue's film sets the record straight, pointing out that casting directors are often responsible for bringing to life some of the film industry's most memorable characters. So important is their contributions that Donohue found enthusiasm among esteemed filmmakers and actors to participate in his documentary even among those individuals who are not prone to generally giving interviews. In the film Woody Allen, Clint Eastwood, Robert De Niro, Martin Scorsese, John Travolta, David V. Picker, Robert Redford, Al Pacino, Norman Jewison, Norman Lear, Peter Bogdanovich, Robert Duvall and Robert Redford, to name just a few, all extol the virtues of casting directors. Woody Allen readily admits that he hates the process of casting because he can't bring himself to choose one actor over another...and that his instincts are often wrong. He credits his long-time casting director, Juliet Taylor, with force-feeding certain actors like Meryl Streep into Allen's films when he didn't see the wisdom of casting them. The film's genesis was as a tribute to Marion Dougherty, a woman whose name won't ring bells with most movie fans, but who was a legend in the industry. It was Dougherty who elevated the status of casting directors when she first went into the profession in 1949. Her keen eye and insightful instincts quickly made her the "go to" person for top directors and studio executives. Dougherty soon became indispensable and set up an office in New York City where she often nurtured talent such as "up and comers" Christopher Walken and Al Pacino. Soon, she had a virtual monopoly on high profile casting assignments for films. She acted as mentor for young women who would go on to become successful casting directors and inspired another legendary person in the profession, Lynn Stalmaster. It was Dougherty who fought to get Jon Voight the role of Joe Buck in Midnight Cowboy after it had been decided that the role should go to Michael Sarrazin. She gave many other future superstars their first major break when she was casting director for the hit TV show The Naked City in the early 1960s. These actors have never forgotten what they owed her. Dougherty is seen throughout the documentary through interviews Tom Donahue conducted with her in 2007. She passed away in 2011, not having seen the completed film- but her sassy nature and independent outlook on the role of women in the film industry come through loud and clear despite her advanced age.
The film is peppered with relevant film clips throughout and countless other prominent talking heads. The movie has set off a bit of a firestorm in the film industry because of its outright advocacy for the position that casting directors should receive recognition from the Academy at Oscar time. (It is the only single-card credit in the film industry to not have an Oscar category.) Clearly, the filmmakers seen here support such a move but there are some exceptions. Oscar winning director Taylor Hackford, who is President of the Directors Guild of America, vehemently argues against Academy recognition for casting directors because they are not really "directing" anything and that the final casting decisions always rest with the director themselves. Others argue that this in an invalid justification for his position because, in the end, every aspect of a movie needs the director's approval...so why give Oscars for editing, cinematography, costumes, etc? The film points out that casting directors are recognized by the Emmys so there is precedence for this idea. Yet, as far back as 1991, esteemed actors and directors pleaded with the Academy to at least grant a special Oscar to Marion Dougherty, but their efforts failed. As for Ms. Dougherty, she was elevated to VP levels at major studios only to be fired for the crime of having aged in a business in which seniority is frowned up. Other veteran casting directors lament the present state of the industry, saying that too many roles are awarded to flash-in-the-pan celebrities who are ill-suited to play the parts. There are exceptions, of course, and most of them can be found in acclaimed TV series where casting directors are proving to make all the difference when it comes to finding the right actor for the right role.
Casting By is a very unique look at the aspects of the film industry that are not widely discussed and it blows the lid off the dirty little battles that have been going on in terms of trying suppress a key branch of the business from receiving appropriate recognition. No matter where you stand on the subject, you'll be fascinated by this look at film history. The movie is superbly edited by Tom Donahue's wife Jill Schweitzer, who had the unenviable task of culling through 250 interviews with prominent people (only about 50 ended up in the final cut.) The movie is justifiably being touted for a nomination for Best Documentary. It deserves the honor- but one hopes that the criticisms of the very Academy that would make that decision won't render yet another shameless snub, this time because director Donahue has dared to go after some sacred cows.
(Casting By is currently in limited theatrical release. It will appear on DVD next year.) For the film's official web site click here
Eastwood and Siegel on the set of Dirty Harry in 1971.
They made five films together and all of them have stood the test of time. Clint Eastwood and his mentor, Don Siegel, gave us Dirty Harry, Coogan's Bluff, Two Mules for Sister Sarah, The Beguiled and Escape From Alcatraz. Each of these movies were not only highly entertaining, some have become classics of their respective genres. It was Siegel who encouraged Eastwood to make his directorial debut in 1971 with Play Misty For Me, and Eastwood would follow Siegel's penchant for shooting fast, efficiently and under-budget.Eastwood was a bit nervous about the prospect and persuaded Siegel to play a supporting role in the film simply so he would be on hand in case any problems arose behind the camera. The rest, as they say, is history. Eastwood would go on to dedicate his Oscar winning 1992 film Unforgiven to both Siegel and his original mentor, Sergio Leone. Den of Geek web site writer Aliyea Whiteley takes a look back on the collaborative films made by Eastwood and Siegel. Click here to read.
(For Cinema Retro's tribute to the original Dirty Harry films, see issue #9) Limited copies left: $30 includes postage)
would be easy to be cynical about yet another entry into one of the many
superhero franchises that seem to dominate the landscape of modern cinema these
days, but at least with “The Wolverine” there seems have been a conscious
effort to mark the film out as more than just another comic book summer
from the limited series by Chris Claremont and Frank Miller, “The Wolverine”
sets out to do what all good films should do, and that’s to allow the
characters to drive the story forward and thread the narrative with an
overarching theme. In short, “The Wolverine” attempts to be more of a
structured drama than a comic book adaptation, and in this it mostly it
sometime after the events of “X Men: The Last Stand”, Hugh Jackman’s Logan has
forsaken his identity as The Wolverine and is living rough in a cave in the Yukon
mountains. On a depressive, downward cycle, he mourns the death of Jean Gray,
(Famke Janssen) whom he visits in the netherworld between life and death. Jean tempts
Logan to join her in the afterlife, and yet, as much as he wishes it, his
immortality means he must remain tied to this world.
overarching theme of mortality is hammered home when Logan is brought to Japan
by the precognitive mutant Yukio and to the deathbed of her employer, Yashida -
a Japanese soldier who Logan saved at the bombing of Nagasaki. In the
intervening years, Yashida has gone on to become the head of the powerful
Yashida Corp. Like many powerful and ailing men, Yashida yearns for
immortality. He offers Logan a chance to pass his immortality on to him,
allowing Logan to live - and, crucially, die - as a normal, mortal man.
Logan isn’t ready to pass on his “gift”, seeing it more as a curse. He turns
Yashida down and resolves to return to his man cave. However, before Logan can get
back to his usual hobby of beating up hicks in bars, he encounters Yashida’s beautiful
granddaughter, Mariko. Mariko, it seems, is her grandfather’s favourite, which
puts her at great risk from her father, Shingen, and Logan’s protective
instinct clicks over into hyperdrive.
Yashida passes away and Logan’s “gift” is forcibly taken from him by the mutant
Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova), Logan is forced to not
only protect Mariko from the Yakuza, but also to come to terms with his own
This allows for a number of set pieces where
the reluctant and vulnerable Logan must unleash his wild side and let the
Wolverine’s claws come out. As he protects Maiko, he slowly begins to fall for
her. Perhaps now he has something to live for again?
However, it’s not long before the tables are
turned and we find ourselves marching squarely into a proper comic book third
act territory, full of fights, falls, and explosions. Sadly, although this is
where all the stops are let out, this is where the film is let down. Despite
all the eye candy on screen, this is also the point where all the characters
must find their resolution, which is never easy in an exploding villain’s lair
where everyone is fighting each other.
Viper, it is revealed, has an issue with Logan
- and men in general - but her character and her motivations are never really
explored or developed further than this, and she ends up being the most
directly caricatured of these comic book characters.
Yukio and Mariko, who have spent the film as
loyal sidekick and damsel in distress respectively, seem suddenly to have
little depth as soon as they are not fighting or running away from Yakuza.
Logan - now squarely Wolverine once again - does
actually get something of a resolution as he comes to terms with his mortality
and finally, rather than running from his nature, embraces it.
“The Wolverine” is, without a doubt, a more
character driven comic book film than many we’ve seen in recent times, and it’s
theme of mortality is deeper than one than we’d be used to encountering in this
kind of film. However, “The Wolverine” is a little too self-aware of its
attempted cleverness and often it feels as though it’s too heavy-handed in its
Despite this, “The Wolverine” still manages to
be a great deal of fun. Whilst it doesn’t pack the visual punch of “The
Avengers” or “Iron Man 3”, it does have more coherence and heart.
Jackman, although stepping into the Wolverine’s
boots for the sixth time, still brings the same energy and vigor to the role he
did when he first took it on thirteen years ago and any signs of weariness only
serve to highlight the character’s mental fatigue. He is clearly very comfortable
in this character’s skin (and muscle), which is fortunate, because, if the de rigueur post-credits teaser
is anything to go by, we’ll be seeing him in the role again soon.
(Ben Williams is a London-based contributor to Cinema Retro magazine and MI6 Confidential)
It's been quite a while since a film starring Robert Redford got a lot of positive buzz at film festivals. However, his offbeat starring role in a new film called All is Lost got a great reaction after its premiere showing at Cannes. Directed by JC Chandor, the movie depicts Redford as a lone sailor who finds himself in jeopardy on the high seas. The film is said to be masterfully directed and acted and its predicted Redford may score a Best Actor Oscar nomination even though he has no dialogue in the one-character adventure flick. For more click here
Heath was an English killer
responsible for the murders of two young women. He was executed by hanging in
London in 1946 (aged 29). Heath was a handsome and well-spoken sociopath who
could easily lure women to their doom.
In 1967, Alfred Hitchcock was trying to rebound
from the failure of the Cold War espionage thriller Torn Curtain with an
original screenplay entitled Frenzy (and later Kaleidoscope). The
unproduced project was to have been based on the crimes of serial rapist-killer
Heath, although the story would be set in the present day in and around New
York City. The original story would be told completely from the point of view
of a murderer who is both attractive and vulnerable.
Screenwriter Benn Levy wrote in a letter to
Hitchcock in January 1967: “It's got to be (based on) Heath, not (John George) Haigh
(the acid bath murderer). Told forwards, the Heath story is a gift from heaven.
You'd start with a ‘straight’ romantic meeting, handsome young man, pretty
girl. Maybe he rescues her from the wild molestations of a drunken escort. ‘I
can't stand men who paw every girl they meet.’ Get us rooting for them both. He
perhaps unhappily married and therefore a model of screen-hero restraint. She begins
to find him irresistibly ‘just a little boy who can't cope with life’ -- least
of all with domestic problems such as he has described. She's sexually maternal
with him, she'd give him anything -- and we're delighted. Presently a few of us
get tiny stirrings of disquiet at the physical love-scenes but don't quite know
why. By the time we see the climax of his love in action and her murder, then
even the slowest of us get it! But we shouldn't know till then.”
Rare trade ad for a film that was never made.
Frenzy would also be a stylistic
departure for Hitchcock. After watching Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up,
Hitchcock felt he had fallen behind the Italians in technique. Hitchcock
biographer Patrick McGilligan writes: “Watching one Antonioni, he sat up
straight at the sight of a man all in white in a white room. ‘White on white!’
he exclaimed to (his personal assistant and script supervisor) Peggy Robertson.
‘There, you see! It can be done!’”
Hitchcock was also impressed
by the camerawork improvisation of maverick American director John Cassavetes (Shadows). He asked the novelist Howard
Fast (Spartacus, Cheyenne Autumn) to sketch a treatment about a gay, deformed serial
killer. Pleased with the results, Hitchcock composed a shot list with over 450
camera positions and shot an hour’s worth of experimental color tests, using
unknown actors in various states of undress. This footage was filmed in New
York City, and gives a tantalizing glimpse of what Hitchcock had in mind, of how
revolutionary Frenzy/Kaleidoscope would have been in his body
of work – a Psycho for the more
liberated counterculture era. Unfortunately, MCA/Universal were disgusted by
the script and test footage and immediately canceled the project, reducing
Hitchcock to tears. Hitchcock was coerced into directing Topaz, Leon Uris’ behind-the-scenes account of the breakup of a
Soviet spy ring at the highest levels of the French government during the 1962 Cuban
missile crisis. Topaz was another in
a string of artistic and commercial failures for Hitchcock as he approached age
Japanese poster for the 1972 film Frenzy which was entirely different from the previous project Hitchcock had intended to use the title for.
What would have been
Hitchcock's most daring and controversial work was thwarted: an avant-garde
film using hand-held camerawork, a first-person viewpoint and natural lighting
(à la Blair Witch Project, filmed
32 years later), detailing the exploits of a gay bodybuilder who dabbles
in murder, rape and possibly necrophilia. It was conceived in 1964 as a prequel
to Hitchcock’s 1942 film Shadow of a Doubt and was initially titled Frenzy,
not to be confused with his eventual 1972 movie of the same name, from which
certain plot elements of the original Frenzy
Hitchcock’s interest in
Neville Heath first manifested itself in 1959 in his unproduced project No Bail for the Judge, which would have
starred Audrey Hepburn, Laurence Harvey and John Williams. A respected judge is
blamed for the murder of a prostitute, and his barrister daughter searches for
the real killer in London’s criminal demi-monde. Hepburn, who desperately
wanted to work with Hitchcock, suddenly withdrew from the project because of a
scene in which her character is brutally raped in Hyde Park by a good-looking London
pimp named Edward “Neddy-Boy” Devlin, who dominates Hepburn by
slowly strangling her with a necktie.
Audrey Hepburn never did work
with Hitchcock, but Laurence Harvey got along with the Master of Suspense and
starred in Arthur (1959), a grisly episode
of the long-running TV anthology series Alfred
Hitchcock Presents in which a beautiful woman (Hazel Court) meets with a
The rape scene in No Bail for the Judge obviously was one that Hitchcock wanted to
realize, in one form or another. It is quite similar to the scene of Mark’s
rape of the frigid Marnie on
their honeymoon cruise. The unproduced script of No Bail for the
Judge also looks forward to the unproduced Frenzy/Kaleidoscope
and to Hitchcock’s serial killer masterpiece Frenzy (1972), with its sexually impotent necktie strangler Bob
Rusk (Barry Foster) loose in London, eager to pin the murders of several
attractive women on his best friend. The unproduced Frenzy contains a
sequence in New York’s Central Park where the killer, Willie Cooper, takes a
young woman into the bushes and murders her. And while Bob Rusk may have more victims
to his credit than Neville Heath and Willie Cooper, it is clear that Edward
“Neddy-Boy” Devlin was Hitchcock’s first “necktie strangler”.
So, as Hitchcock matured as an
artist, his impulse to film violent misogynistic scenes intensified – scenes
which would finally be free from censorship in the freewheeling “anything goes”
atmosphere of Hollywood in the sixties and seventies.
(Click here to order Cinema Retro issue #18 featuring extensive coverage of Hitchcock's Psycho. Click here to order Cinema Retro issue #24 featuring in-depth article on the making of the 1972 version of Frenzy)
Nana stands in front of the camera. With her head in close-up, she poses: left,
full profile and then right. Throughout Jean-Luc Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie,
the philosophising prostitute is both alluring and clinical, free-spirited and
forced, but despite her famous speech in the cafe (and being seen and perhaps
censured by capricious cinephiles) can she be held responsible for her actions
within the film
Godard’s piece (naturally enough for the New Wave) is a mixture of
different styles, as suggested by its teasing, nimble title, Vivre Sa Vie, which translates roughly
as “live life” and has been moulded variously into It’s My Life, My Life to Live and To Live Her Life across the territories. It suggests an approach mixing
direct cinema with cinema verite-style camera work to indicate a defiant,
almost decadent posturing that is nonetheless a delicate portrayal of its theme
and holds its truth in the quickest flecks of light caught on camera behind the
beguiling Nana. Indeed, Nana’s relationship with the camera changes from scene
to scene; she flirts with it almost as a client, forces herself on it when
dancing and is followed by it when fleeing terrified from the scene of a
shooting. The film’s subtitle is A Film
in Twelve Scenes. Simply speaking, it charts segments in the life of Nana,
a wife and mother who has left her family to tread the boards.
She aspires to life as an actress and it could be argued that she
subsequently spends most of the time fulfilling a series of roles, such as the
moll she becomes for most of the feature’s duration. From the opening frame, Godard goads us, makes us strain for the
meaning in her scenes, for the meaning of her mythos as a whole.
Following the frames in which we are given information about the film’s
festival-circuit run, the opening section is where Godard’s starlet seduces the
camera. Nana stands still, sometimes almost in silhouette. Her eyelashes are fluttering
and there are slight movements of her tender mouth and smooth throat as she
breathes. While an understated gesture, it is sexual, sordid even and oddly
uncomfortable for the viewer, so personal is the image that it reminds them of
their own breath and rhythmic deglutition. The music appears, then disappears
and we are denied Nana’s eyes as they are blotted out by obviously obtrusive
text in the titles. The referent paradox is clear: she is Miss X of the same
generation, one of the modern masses, yet a subject worthy of study and a
creature so captivating she must be periodically censored for her audience’s
The film is an exercise in illustrating the paradoxes of interpretation,
so much to consider, yet every element included is a potential deconstruction. Nana
is an appealing mix of style and naturalism, function and frivolity. Her short
hair makes her comparatively boyish (as she semi-acknowledges in her letter to
a potential Madam, stating that it could quickly be grown out), yet it also
shows off that sensual neck. From the opening scene where we only truly see the
back of her head and hair, bulky jacket and cigarette smoke, she may drink like
a man, play like a man and talk like a man, but she can also be moulded by a
man. She talks about her torturous life to her ex-husband, Paul, in the café.
We see their backs and note their similar shapes and the ferocity of fear for
her fate versus her desire to be seen as “special” by him. She acts in place of
his inaction. We are desperate for them to touch as shutting us out of their
conversation (as the framing does) makes us feel vulnerable too, all the while
praising Nana for her forward-thinking vehemence. Above all, however, her
hair’s sleek cut makes her look extremely functional, as underlined by her
clothes and chamber while working as a call girl. Nana has an innate glamour
that both enhances her sex appeal and sterilizes her environment.
Here is a girl who borrows her gestures from the gentlemen she galvanises.
Her head bobs with theirs on her bored, business-like but Byzantine journey;
while leading them often around the room, she also follows their lead when
allowing herself to be purloined for their pleasure. The easy, lazy angle of
her hand holding a cocked cigarette is her calling card and is the art of the
tart considering the inevitable conclusion of her next conquest.
Art or apparatus, Godard wants us to feel the grit under Nana’s shoes in
order to understand the poetry of the situation; she cannot appreciate the
responsibility she claims during the canteen scene as for her (an actress in
both senses) it must remain unsaid lest it becomes a piece of performed fiction.
As Susan Sontag states in Against
Interpretation, she’s there to be seen, not to explain, so we must fill in
the gaps for her. Against this interpretation, however, is our own
interpretation of that. As Godard changes his camera angles and plays with diegesis
we cannot help but imply an interpretation. According to Sontag, these are simply
snippets of a kaleidoscope, a section of discourse that relates to the
narrative frame but not to our assertive femme for whom (she feels) no
explanation is given. Yet despite Sontag’s clear investment in stating the
alternative, it becomes impossible not to see the implied implications of the
oddly innocent girl’s situation.
Indeed, Nana’s more masculine behaviour only serves to silhouette her
slightness and frailty. As Sontag comments, each one of the film’s twelve segments
recalls a text and, as the ‘text’ in the café sequence suggests, Nana’s story is
that of ‘The Chicken’, that which’s soul can only be found when she has given
of herself. However, this is not through negation of herself as Sontag suggests
– it is not exactly a process during which Nana has no control over the layers
that are stripped away, but it is controlled submission. We see Nana unburdened
in the scenes in which she drifts, when her smile shines brightly enough for it
to light up her eyes. This is when the body and soul of this little ‘chick’ are
peeled away and we notice Nana unconstructed, a Nana of pure feeling inside the
skin cage, a ghost inside the machine.
We listen to Nana and her lover discuss passages
of Poe and may think her mask is beginning to slip; despite the simple, clinical
setting alongside the business-like montages of our Mademoiselle and her men,
we begin to feel warmth. Nevertheless, this is hope for the future that feels
hallucinogenic, so far is it from the narrative’s precision-focused frame. Nana
has become a body, a sculpted doll not only in her looks but in her assertive,
masculine behaviour, so it is natural that this, too, must be discarded. This
occurs in our final sequence, wherein our miss is sold to another pimp. She is manhandled
across a bleak parking slot from man to man until she is shot. Her delicate
figure contrasts against the shaft of the gun, yet like it she has become
little more than a mechanism of male control, a cog in a wheel of a criminal
machine maintained by money and murder. Nana’s impregnation by the phallic
symbol represents a loss, a commercial union turned sour. Nana the machinic
mode of production has been decommissioned. To put it crudely, the bullet has
given her more holes than necessary for her occupation and has marked her. Particularly
in the cold, hard light of the modern-day chicks, she is simply an appendage
sullied, and therefore sullying by association, another man.
After her evisceration and an indelicate death
dance, therefore, she falls to the floor by the car.
It is here the viewer finally feels Nana in
a way that Sontag would probably support; we feel her precisely because we
don’t. As she lies lifeless in the street, her personality begs a playback the
fast-paced action will not permit. We watch in horror as first one car leaves
her, then the other half speeds towards her as though to crush the evidence of
her calamitous conclusion by driving straight across her and leaving a pool of
unbelievably black blood oozing and oscillating on the tarmac. Such is the
departure from the film’s abstracted gentility that the idea alone of this sort
of image – regardless of the film’s final fade before it becomes possible – remains
with the viewer. While Sontag complains bitterly that the bombastic director
destroys the thematic complexity of his piece by allowing Nana’s death to
mirror the parable of the ‘poule’, it actually seems to do the exact opposite.
It forces Nana to live in our mind’s eye. We recoil from the image despite the
fact it never worries our retinas. We instead see Nana in all humanity,
philosophy and beauty precisely because God(ard) deprives her – his muse and off-screen
wife Anna Karina – of it in those final few frames. By placing herself in that
scenario, she is given chance to bear her soul.
She is responsible.
Dr Karen Oughton is an academic and film journalist. Click here for her web site
(Viva Sa Vie is available as a special edition Blu-ray from Criterion. Click here to order from Amazon)
and arcane religious rituals wouldn’t seem to make for good filmed
entertainment. And yet, the Vatican’s papal election process – occurring again this
week to name a successor to Pope Benedict XVI – has been detailed in cinema almost
as many times as the more Hollywood-sounding subject of papal assassination
while the workings of the pontifical election conclave might not be surprising
in a religious film, they were even deemed dramatic enough for inclusion in The Godfather Part III. Yep, Francis
Ford Coppola’s 1990 crime epic takes a break between whackings to portray the
1978 conclave that elected the first Pope John Paul.
more impressive than the fact that cinema has depicted this process is the fact
that, on occasion, the movies seem to have gotten it right. When a papal
vacancy isn’t being used as a premise for a goofy comedy (witness 1991’s The Pope Must Diet!), the election process
is treated with seeming care and accuracy.
course, screenwriters can only base such scenes on the generally accepted
consensus of how the election conclave of cardinals works; no press members have
ever documented the proceedings first hand. No cameras have been allowed.
I’ve never heard of a [conclave member] writing a report of it,” says Bill
Ryan, spokesman for the United Conference of Catholic Bishops. Ryan says he
assumes screen treatments of the conclave are “working backward from the
document,” referring to On the Vacancy of the Apostolic See and the Election of
the Roman Pontiff.
1968’s The Shoes of the Fisherman, which
chronicles the rise of fictional Pope Kiril I (Anthony Quinn), also benefited
from the technical consulting of Monsignor Adone Terzariol, an unofficial papal
advisor. The film is likely the tastemaking cinematic vision of the conclave,
the blueprint for other films’ depiction of the same.
Anthony Quinn in The Shoes of the Fisherman.
Shoes of the Fisherman – a twice-over
Oscar nominee – presents the pontifical election in fine detail. We see the cardinals
locked in the annex of the Sistine Chapel by the Marshal of the Conclave. Ballots
are cast, placed onto a plate, then dumped into a chalice. Wet straw is burned with
the ballots to produce black smoke, indicating a failure to elect a pontiff on
the first few days of voting. Canopies collapse overhead each cardinal not
elected pope after the new pontiff has accepted.
Shoes of the
uses a TV news journalist (played by David Janssen) as its exposition.
Janssen’s character is stationed outside St. Peter’s, giving very specific
play-by-play analysis. If the dry crime-lab films of the 1950s can be termed
“Police Procedurals,” the mid portion of Fisherman
is truly a Pontifical Procedural.
only does Shoes of the Fisherman
capture the rituals of the election in great detail, its election of a
fictional Russian pope foretells the coronation of Polish pope John Paul II,
the first non-Italian pope in 455 years.
films The Pope Must Diet! and The Godfather Part III (neither of which
credit a religious technical advisor) seem to have borrowed Fisherman’s vision of the election
The Pope Must Diet!, about a schlubby
priest (Robbie Coltrane) who is accidentally coronated as Pope, does serve as a
reminder that the elected Pontiff need not be a cardinal attending the conclave.
could be any baptized male,” says Ryan. Other reports suggest it can be any
adult Roman Catholic.
The Pope Must Diet! covers many of the
rituals surrounding a papal succession – at least those rituals that serve as easy
fodder for cheap jokes. In Diet, the
deceased pope isn’t just tapped on the forehead with the silver papal hammer to
determine death, he’s given a good whack. Papal nominations are struck down on
the grounds of “He’s too fat!” And the cardinals are wanded with metal
detectors before entering the conclave (though this last joke isn’t too far off
the truth; the conclave is reportedly screened for bugging devices).
the 1984 telefilm Pope John Paul II
shows a side of the electoral conclave not covered in Shoes of the Fisherman. The Polish pope-to-be, portrayed by Albert
Finney, is seen in his sparsely furnished conclave quarters between election
days. Apparently, this is an accurate depiction, as each cardinal has a cell furnished
only with a bed, a crucifix, a table and chairs.
even movies that don’t detail the conclave can raise provocative points about
1972 film Pope Joan – about a rumored
female Pope that snuck in around 855 – is one of several films to feature a papal
election but that skips the rituals of the election process (2003’s Luther and 1981’s From a Far Country are others). But when Pope Joan’s infirm pontiff (Trevor Howard) suggests a successor on
his deathbed, it raises the question of whether an outgoing pope has ever tried
to name his replacement.
totally in the realm of speculation or fiction,” says Ryan.
it all might be, considering that only cardinals, sworn to secrecy, have
witnessed a papal election conclave. The closest depiction we may ever see is on
Films Depicting the Papal Enclave
Shoes of the Fisherman” (1968), with Anthony Quinn as fictional Pope Kiril I
John Paul II” (1983), with Albert Finney as Pope John Paul II
Godfather Part III” (1990), with Raf Vallone as Pope John Paul
Pope Must Diet!” (1991), with Robbie Coltrane as a fictional pope
Films Featuring the Election of a New Pope
Joan” (1972), with Liv Ullman as rumored female successor to Pope Leo IV
a Far Country” (1981), with Cezary Morawski as Pope John Paul II
(2003), with Uwe Ochsenknecht as Pope Leo X
The folks at Kindertrauma, a web site dedicated to everthing that scared baby boomers as children, has a good tribute to The Norliss Tapes, the 1970s TV movie starring Roy Thinnes and Angie Dickinson. It's sounds intriguing enough for us to order the DVD. To read the article click here.
To order the DVD from the Cinema Retro Amazon Movie Store, click here.
Director David O. Russell's Silver Linings Playbook deserves praise, if for nothing else, overcoming the seemingly incomprehensible title and becoming a major box-office success. The film is typical of today's "rom-coms" (romantic comedies, for the uninitiated.) Troubled, attractive young guy. Troubled, attractive young woman. Both meet cute. Both have to interact with lovable, eccentric friends and family members before overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles in achieving great goal. Bradley Cooper, progressing very well from low-brow comedies, gives a very fine performance as Pat, a charismatic Philadelphia school teacher who goes bonkers when he discovers his wife getting on in the shower with one of his school colleagues. He goes on a rampage and almost beats the man to death. When we first see him, his mother is checking him out of a psychiatric institution after 8 long months- and against the advice of his doctors. Seems Pat has been bi-polar all along but never knew it, something that strains credibility given the fact that emotionally, he carries more baggage than a cruise ship. (In a completely unbelievable but "cute" plot device, he is sent into a rage every time he hears Steve Wonder singing "My Cherie, Amour"- you know, sort of like that old sketch in which the Three Stooges go ballistic upon hearing "Niagara Falls"). Pat tries to readjust to his dysfunctional family life but it's a rocky road. He is obsessed with winning back his gorgeous wife, who he mistakenly believes is equally determined to revive their marriage. In the process, he has to frequently lock horns with his father (Robert De Niro in very fine form), a reckless gambler and bookmaker who is always only seconds away from financial disaster. The old man is betting the ranch on the outcome of football games in the hopes of fulfilling his dream of opening a small, local restaurant. In the midst of all this chaos, Pat meets Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), a vivacious but equally troubled young widow with a history of mental illness. Before you can say "When Harry Met Sally", the two enter a combative relationship that all -too predictably results in a gradual attraction. All of this leads up to a crisis-filled night in which Pat has promised to be Tiffany's dance partner in a local contest that they have to score well enough on to prevent Pat's dad from losing everything he has and, instead, win the bet that will allow him to open his restaurant.
The script of Silver Linings Playbook contains every cliche except, "Hey kids, we can put the show on in a barn!" Yet, it's a feel-good, crowd-pleaser that is just off-beat enough to rise above the level of most romantic comedies. The scene-stealer is Jennifer Lawrence, who fully deserves her Oscar nomination as the bitchy-but-lovable head case whose emotions run up and down like a roller-coaster. She and Cooper make for a fine on-screen couple and watching them deal with their respective eccentricities is one of the film's delights. Director Russell also makes good use of the suburban Philly locations and the cast (particularly De Niro) is especially convincing at making you believe you are intruding on an actual middle-class family's intimate moments. Still, as the movie nears its climactic dance competition sequence, I found myself praying that the script would refreshingly forgo what was shaping up to the be most predictable of endings. Sadly, Russell (who also wrote the screenplay) goes for the low-hanging fruit and employs every mothballed romantic cliche imaginable, complete with love-crazed young guy running after heartbroken girlfriend down a city street adorned with Christmas decorations. There's enough moss on these story elements to make penicillin.
The film is refreshing in the sense that it's one of the few youth-oriented comedies that doesn't rely on vulgarity and gross-out humor. It's definitely a good date movie, but certainly undeserving of a Best Picture Oscar.
Ernest Borgnine's final film, The Man Who Shook the Hand of Vincente Fernandez, opens theatrically with a one-week run at the Laemmle Encino Town Center Theater beginning today. The independent production is a modestly-budgeted family comedy/drama that presents the legendary Oscar-winner with the kind of showcase role that actors in their nineties almost never have. Borgnine makes the most of it, too, giving a terrific and moving performance that earned him the Best Actor award at this year's Newport Film Festival. Written and produced by Elia Petridis, Fernandez centers on Rex Page (Borgnine), a cantankerous old coot given to griping about every aspect of life. He seems oblivious to the fact that he has an adoring wife (June Squibb), a devoted middle-aged daughter (Dale Dickey) and and a worshipful granddaughter (Audrey P. Scott). Rex is frustrated by his failure to fulfill his dream of becoming a big time actor on the silver screen. He once came close to landing the leading role in a spaghetti Western, but lost out to a competing actor. He's spent a lifetime in self-imposed hell, obsessed with watching this B movie and learning every line of dialogue, which he repeats to anyone in his presence. When a health crisis sees the fiercely independent Rex move into a nursing home, a series of incidents motivate him to reevaluate his life. The nursing home is a money mill for corrupt bureaucrats who use the patients as cash cows. It doesn't take Rex long to figure this out and he quickly wears out his welcome by insulting and chastising fellow elderly patients who are part of a click belonging to the corrupt family that owns the facility. He also is abrasive towards the largely Hispanic staff of nurses and orderlies, often referring to them in unflattering racial insults.
The relationship between Rex and his caregivers gradually softens, however, when the young staff members learn that Rex, a former popular DJ, once briefly met and shook the hand of the film's titular character, Vincente Fernandez, a "Mexican Frank Sinatra" who enjoys mythic stature in the Hispanic community. Rex transfixes the staff by telling and retelling his account of this brief meeting in the 1970s. This common bond allows Rex and the staffers to form a mutually respectful relationship that grows stronger by the day. Rex particularly takes a shine to his nurse Solena (stunningly beautiful Carla Ortiz)- and he comes to her defense, saving her from the clutches of would-be molester Dr. Dominguez (Tony Plana), the chief administrator. In a scenario that is a clearly geriatric version of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, Rex inspires his young friends to stand up for their rights and take on the oppressive bureaucrats who exploit them. He must also deal with challenges in his own life when his family feels he's been alienating them in favor of his adopted family at the nursing home.
The film contains more than its share of sugary scenes and corny cliches. (The villains are so lacking in any redeeming qualities that they practically twirl their mustaches.) Nevertheless, director Petridis offers Borgnine the finest role he's had in more years than I can remember. He dominates every scene and, ironically for his final film, looks like the picture of good health. Petridis, who must clearly be obsessive about spaghetti westerns himself, cleverly manages to intertwine many aspects of Western movie lore into this contemporary story so that even a card game between Borgnine and a nursing home nemesis is drenched in Leone-like imagery and music. This homage extends to the brilliant title credits which are cleverly derived from the Sergio Leone/Clint Eastwood "Dollars" trilogy. This is a feel good family film that is marred by one easily correctable misjudgment: the insertion of a completely unnecessary expletive said from a mother to her young child. It's wildly out of place in an otherwise uplifting tale for all ages. If director Petridis is wise, he'll exclude this from the video and pay-per-view versions of the film.
I only had the pleasure of meeting Ernest Borgnine once several years ago for an interview for Cinema Retro magazine. He struck me as a warm, honest and kind individual. Thus, perhaps I had a bit more of a personal outlook when viewing Borgnine's final sequence in this film, which Elia Petridis handles brilliantly. It's so touchingly filmed and directed that I was moved to watch it again on the DVD screener. Not since John Wayne's final scene in The Shootist has a legendary actor had a more appropriate on-screen send off.
The Man Who Shook the Hand of Vicente Fernandez is not high art, nor does it pretend to be. However, it is an enjoyable film that refreshingly extolls family values. The supporting cast members are all very talented and a pleasure to watch, but is Ernie Borgnine who justifiably dominates the movie and your memories of it.
Many people remember the portly actor William Conrad for playing the role of detective Cannon in the popular 1970s CBS TV series. However, his long career extended back to playing Marshall Matt Dillon on the radio version of Gunsmoke. There is another often neglected side to his career: his long association with horror films. TCM's Movie Morlock web site examines these films. Click here to read
The new romantic comedy ("romcom" for you hipsters) Excuse Me for Living represents the first feature film by Ric Klass, at least in terms of getting any meaningful distribution. (His prior excursion into filmmaking was the little-seen Elliott Fauman, PhD. back in 1990.) The indie movie goes into theatrical release in select theaters nationwide this week. The film traces the tangled relationships between young New Yorkers, with the emphasis focusing on Dan (Tom Pelphrey), a privileged Gen X'er who nonetheless suffers from severe depression and a penchant for self-destructive behavior. When the film opens, we find him about to leap to his death from a bridge. Saved by a cop, he is "sentenced" to a rehab clinic run by a strict, but compassionate psychiatrist (Robert Vaughn), who attempts to form a personal bond with the troubled young man. Dan agrees to join a therapy group comprised entirely of elderly men, each of whom reveals their own personal demons. Dan is accepted by the group, but his rebellious nature gets the better of him. Before long, he's being lured back to his old ways. He sneaks out to attend wild parties at the home of a snobby friend and even starts an affair with his own psychiatrist's daughter. The episodic nature of the film provides both strengths and weaknesses. On the plus side, we're introduced to some interesting characters, well played by a talented cast of largely unknown actors and actresses. Pelphrey is especially good in the lead role, but he gets able assistance from Melissa Archer and Ewa Da Cruz as the femme fatales who wreak havoc on his his troubled mind by offering a continuous string of sexual temptations. On the other hand, Klass, who also wrote the screenplay, introduces so many characters and relationships that the viewer sometimes can't follow who is doing what with whom. Klass doesn't strive for belly laughs, instead concentrates on amusing situations and poignant and often moving dramatic aspects to the storyline. Best of all, he brings together some terrific veteran actors, all seen in their largest big screen roles in years. Vaughn, in particular, makes the most of his considerable screen time, bringing grace and dignity to a complex role. It's great to see him in a lead role on the big screen again. Seinfeld almuni Jerry Stiller (playing a relatively subdued and realistic character) and Wayne Knight are also on hand, along with Christopher Lloyd, whose usual crazy guy shtick is quite amusing. There is also enough mildly kinky sex and scantily-clad women to appeal to guys who might otherwise think this is a chick flick. In fact, it's a smart, witty comedy that should have special appeal to young, urban audiences. The movie also has a rich look to the production design and is crisply photographed and impressively edited.
Excuse Me For Living makes for a fine directorial debut for Klass. Here's hoping he has a second act in the works.
Click here to visit the official web site for the film
1959-60, the distinguished Quebec actor Gilles Pelletier (who had earlier
appeared in Otto Preminger’s The 13th
Letter and in Alfred Hitchcock’s I
Confess) came to Ottawa to shoot 39 episodes of the R.C.M.P. television series, coproduced by Crawley Films, the
Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and the British Broadcasting Corporation.
producer F.R. “Budge” Crawley cast Pelletier as Corporal Jacques Gagnier, a
Mountie working at a detachment in rural northern Saskatchewan. Interiors were
shot on a brand-new soundstage near Ottawa at Old Chelsea, Quebec. Exteriors
were filmed in nearby Aylmer, Quebec, and in Outlook, Saskatchewan, which stood
in for the fictional western town of Shamattawa, the center of the action of
this contemporary adventure series.
a Québécois in the lead role was considered a gutsy move at the time, but
Crawley was ahead of the curve in acknowledging the “French fact” on Canadian television,
according to Pelletier. (Crawley went on to produce the Oscar-winning 1975 documentary
The Man Who Skied Down Everest.)
Co-starring in R.C.M.P. as Gagnier’s
sidekick Constable Bill Mitchell was Don Francks, later a series regular on La Femme Nikita and co-star in Todd
Haynes’ Bob Dylan “biography” I’m Not
all that talent on board, why did R.C.M.P.
only last one season? The show was well produced. Crawley partnered with
the CBC, the BBC, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and figured it would
be a snap to break into international TV markets, especially in the United
States. R.C.M.P. was a
crisply-shot, realistic and sometimes extremely violent crime drama which stood
in stark contrast to the usual stagebound and fusty Canadian television
programming of the time. Influenced by the
European neorealist school of filmmaking, the show
had the look and feel of a documentary, very convincingly conveying the dismal
Canadian ambience (especially in wintertime) and the homegrown criminal element
of small-town Canada. R.C.M.P. more
than held its own against similar U.S. TV fare.
to Pelletier, what was overlooked was the fact that the American TV networks,
distributors and producers operated like a closed circuit. They weren’t interested
in buying a foreign TV series unless they had a hand in its production from the
word “go”, and Crawley wouldn’t allow that. He said if they had that kind of
control, R.C.M.P. would lose its
distinctively Canadian cachet and be like any other American-style series.
Sean Connery in Zardoz: looking like a pitch man for adult incontinence products!
The pop culture web site Detour has a brief homage to director John Boorman's ill-fated 1973 sci-fi epic Zardoz (referred to by many as Zardoze) The bizarre futuristic tale involved immortality, slavery, sex-obsessed women and The Wizard of Oz. It's the kind of movie that should alarm you if it starts making sense to you. Nevertheless, we have affection for the film and are among those who consider "Boorman's Folly" to be an intriguing, thought-provoking gem. Where else can you see Sean Connery (who replaced Burt Reynolds in the leading role) strutting his stuff in what looks like a red Depends diaper, while Charlotte Rampling runs amok starkers. For more click here
Click here to order Zardoz from the Cinema Retro Amazon Movie Store- only $9.98!
Vincent Price (see here in the 1964 adaptation of The Tomb of Ligeia) collaborated with producer Roger Corman on several successful cinematic translations of Poe's work.
John Cusack's new movie -a fictionalized look at the life of Edgar Allan Poe that presents the famed writer chasing a serial killer- has brought about renewed interest in seeing how the master of the macabre's stories have translated on to cinema screens over the decades (for better or worse). Click here to read New York Times analysis.
With The Iron Lady opening in the UK, Daily Mail writer Chris Tookey acknowledges Meryl Streep's acclaimed performance as Margaret Thatcher. However, he says the film suffers from a simplified look at her actual career and accomplishments. Tookey says her most notable achievements are given brief mention while speculative or rather inconsequential aspects of her life are given prominence in the script. Tookey seems to be writing from a distinctly Tory point of view ("She
deserves to be studied because she was right about so many things, and
carried out her public duties despite hysterical abuse from most of the
political and media establishment"), so your own political leanings may influence whether you agree or disagree with his assessment. Click here to read
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM CINEMA RETRO'S ARCHIVES
(This article originally ran in October 2008)
In the wake
of Paul Newman’s death I’ve been watching a few of his movies over again, and
in some cases, watching some of his films for the first time.
avowed admirer of 60s and 70s films, and thrillers especially, I was surprised
that I had never seen The Mackintosh Man
(1973) before. I was very familiar with it in the context of Newman’s canon,
and films in general, and I remember it opening, but for some reason it had
passed me by until today.
be told, there’s good reasons for that. It’s not a bad film per se, but you can
see why its not part of the common cultural currency of 70s movies.
involves a British Intelligence spy working deep undercover and known only to
his chief – Mr Mackintosh – hence being a Mackintosh man - and attempting to
bring to book a corrupt MP. The means by
which he does this (faking a diamond robbery in order to go to jail, so as
to attract the attention of a mysterious firm who can spring him and a high
level prisoner with links to the said MP) are contrived the point of hilarity.
pedigree is good, great even. Directed by John Huston, with a script co-written
by Walter Hill from a novel by Desmond Bagely one could reasonably expect a
memorable and exciting yarn. With a supporting cast to die for including James
Mason, Harry Andrews, Ian Bannen, Nigel Patrick, Peter Vaughan and Michael
Horden, its always interesting , but only from a social and culturally historic
perspective. If you ever wanted to see Paul Newman wander round early 70s London,
hopping on tube trains and round Leather Lane market (with actual market goers
trying very hard and failing to stop and gawk at the Hollywood royalty walking
amongst them), or even slopping out in Liverpool with John Bindon from Get Carter, then this is the film for
you. What 1973 audiences would have made of it is anyone’s guess. The
convoluted plot and intentionally slow pace would have left the most hardened
thriller fan napping. There are practically no markers that this is directed by
the same man that gave us The Maltese
Falcon, The Asphalt Jungle and Chinatown; its so pedestrian as to
resemble an episode of The Saint,
which apparently, according to IMDB, this film is almost a carbon-copy ofone such episode.
The Mackintosh Man is the dictionary definition of a film which
survives on star power alone. On paper this could quite easily have been filler
on the bottom half of a double bill, and had starred someone like Ian McShane
or Bradford Dillman without changing anything in the script. As it is, Newman
brings effortless professionalism to the proceedings, and even manages to
adapt, chameleon-like to his drab and everyday surroundings, a little like Sean
Connery in The Offence.
never seen it, the tone in the first half of the film veers between Frenzy, The Ipcress File and Porridge.
But after the jailbreak the tone shifts into almost Bondian territory, or at
the very least an episode of The Avengers
with the introduction of Jenny Runacre’s Gerda, a kind of taller version of
OHMSS’s Irma Bunt with her mute henchman (I kid ye not)Taafe played by Percy
Herbert. This scenario is almost played for laughs and culminates with perhaps
cinema's only onscreen kick in the female crotch by a male character.
Sanda glides through the film with a single blank expression her face from
start to finish, which doesn’t help in a scene where James mason spikes her
drink. It took quite few moments to spot that she was trying to act like someone
who’ s lost most of her higher motor functions.
any enjoyment one can derive from this film is in watching a mid-career Newman
in a film featuring authentic locations with a sterling, if underused cast.
It’s a sombre film in tone, with only a few flashes of action, notably a very
realistic motor chase along bleak Irish roads, and a foot chase across moors
which resembles Newman’s flight from the prison guards and dogs in Cool Hand Luke. The film reeks of
“contractural obligation”, but at the end of the day I’m glad I’ve finally seen
it, and will probably revisit again. Maybe.
moment its only available as part of a Warner Region 1 Newman Box set, but its
worth getting as it includes Harper, The Drowning Pool, Pocket Money, The Young
Philadelphians and The Left-Handed
Gun, all under-appreciated films. - Steve Saragossi
CLICK HERE TO ORDER THE PAUL NEWMAN COLLECTION BOXED DVD SET
Hughes makes the case that the restored version of Sergio Leone's classic The Good, the Bad and the Ugly is inferior to the original theatrical release.
Cinema Retro columnist and film book author Howard Hughes vents on his blog about misconstrued extended cuts of films that failed to improve on the originals. Among those in his sites: Star Wars and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Click here to read
Cinema Retro is proud to present a major article by author and film historian Collin Stutz
“Contrast, Counterpoint, and Patience:The Vanishing Penultimate Moment in Film” by
In Daniel Raim’s Academy-Award nominated 2001
documentary The Man On Lincoln’s Nose,
the film’s subject, legendary film production designer Robert F. Boyle (North By Northwest, The Birds, The Thomas
Crown Affair - 1968, Fiddler On The Roof), profoundly states, “One of the
problems with a lot of films now is that we’re dealing with climaxes rather
than the penultimate moments which are more interesting.”Boyle defines the penultimate moment as the
moment before something actually happens.It is the scene before the climax (Scene 12).In the DVD audio commentary to their 2004
Pixar film The Incredibles, director
Brad Bird and producer John Walker discuss how “movies don’t have people
sneaking around anymore.I want some
sneaking around in my movie!People are
in such a rush to get the action sequences going fast that they forget there’s
pleasure to be had in the sneaking around part, taking a look at where you
are.So I have a few sneaking around
sequences in here, and I don’t think they’re a waste of time” (Scene 9).Whether one artist refers to it as “the
penultimate moment” or another calls it “sneaking around” is irrelevant; they
are both discussing the same thing.The
penultimate moment can be one of the most rewarding experiences for a cinema
audience, and there are three elements – contrast, counterpoint, and time
investment – that go into its creation.Unfortunately, the penultimate moment and its components are becoming a
lost art in today’s world of instant gratification.
Boyle uses Michelangelo’s Renaissance sculpture
masterpiece David as an example to
further illustrate his belief in the penultimate moment.He states that the sculpture of the Biblical
hero is “a young man standing, thinking.He’s got the sling over his shoulder and he has a frown on his face and
he’s obviously concerned.He’s concerned
about the coming conflict.The stone
that hits Goliath is momentarily interesting but only for that second.What went on before David meets
Goliath…that’s what’s interesting”(The Man OnLincoln’s Nose, Scene 12).
As the five minute, thirty second sequence where Mr.
Incredible sneaks around the island trying to discover Syndrome’s evil plan
plays, director Bird, in his Incredibles
audio commentary, goes on to say, “The filmmakers I most admire recognize the
value of “teasing” moments and “milking” moments.You think about a good storyteller or someone
who tells good stories in a bar.They
don’t blast through a story.They stop
and they savor certain moments.And they
know which moments they can milk.And
all of my favorite filmmakers have the confidence to slow down.Versus, I won’t name names, but a lot of
successful hacks, who, by having rapid-fire editing all the way through, never
have to deal with the issue of “Is anybody paying attention?” because they keep
throwing stuff at you.To me, there’s an
edge of desperation about that.The kind
of filmmaking I most admire takes a moment to savor things, because there are
so many things a movie can offer, particularly when you have a really talented
crew that works on getting sets to look great and is putting things up
there.You want a moment to take them
in.Like a good comic pauses, I think a
good filmmaker slows down”(Scene 15).Incidentally, five minutes of that Incredibles sequence is nothing but
sneaking around.The final thirty
seconds is the action climax where Mr. Incredible is attacked by goo balls and
captured.John Fawell, author of Rear Window:The Well-Made Film, elaborates on Bird’s thoughts in his DVD
commentary of the film, “People sometimes ask, ‘Why do we make such a deal of
these old films?’ Part of it is the professionalism on the smallest level.Even your most unimportant moment should have
a nice composition to it”(Scene 12).
"I was born in Harlem... I weighed a pound and a quarter and the doctor said
'If he survives, he'll be a genius,' but, he said, 'Don't count on
it'." Thus begins Irwin Hasen's narration of his life in "Irwin
- A New York Story" by painter, and first-time filmmaker Dan Makara. The
short film was presented at the famous Players club in Manhattan on November
30, 2011. In it Mr. Hasen speaks candidly and openly about his career, work and
especially his personal life. The documentary short takes you back and forth
through Hasen's miserable childhood, first "paying" job, schooling, being
in on the ground floor of the burgeoning comic book industry, army stint and
most importantly the creation for which he's most famous, "Dondi", the newspaper comic strip he drew for over 30
years. Hasen, at age 92, is also one of the few surviving comic book artists of the Golden Age period, having worked on Superman, Green Lantern and many other classic titles. Many of his friends, also legends in comic industry also appear in the
film to reminisce. Coming in at almost 55 minutes, "Irwin" is a bit
long for a short; not unlike the man himself. At times funny (Mr. Hasen is
often self-deprecating), moving, nostalgic and cartoonish (as it should be),
"Irwin - A New York Story" is a colorful and honest look at a true
New York and comic book art legend. He also tells you how to make a great
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM CINEMA RETRO'S ARCHIVES
Donald Hamilton’s Serious Spy Becomes a Bond Parody By Matthew
When JFK revealed his fondness for the James Bond books by Ian Fleming, and 007—ably embodied by Sean Connery—struck box-office gold with Dr. No (1962) and its sequels, the resultant “Bondmania” set off a spy craze manifested in everything from atmospheric adaptations of Len Deighton and John le Carré to tongue-in-cheek secret agents on screens small and large. Perhaps the most successful of the latter was Matt Helm, a singing and swinging spy played in four films for Columbia Pictures by Rat Pack member Dean Martin, who unlike Connery shared in the profits from the outset via his own company, Meadway-Claude Productions. The former partner of Bond producer Albert R. “Cubby” Broccoli - Irving Allen - was playing catch-up after deeming Fleming’s work unworthy of filming, which speeded his breakup with Broccoli. But ironically, his quartet of quintessential spy spoofs was actually based on a series of gritty Gold Medal paperback originals by Donald Hamilton that had been launched by Fawcett before Kennedy was even in office, or Connery started shaking his martinis.
STELLA STEVENS IN SEXY PUBLICITY POSE FOR "THE SILENCERS"
I very rarely rave about new films. Some
puzzle me, others annoy me and many are plain incoherent when it comes to
dialogue vs special effects soundtracks. But more than anything, jerky camera
work does nothing to excite nor, in my opinion, does it "add"
anything to a movie.
How refreshing therefore it is for a misery
guts like me to see a film that bowls me over and one which flies in the face
of expected convention.
I first saw THE ARTIST in Cannes back in
May - at I think its fourth screening, as the other three were totally
over-subscribed. It is a black and white, silent movie shot in a 4:3 ratio.
Yes, that's correct: not widescreen, not 3D, not cluttered with sound effects
and not in colour. Furthermore its star is a Frenchman - Jean Dujardin. His
name might not mean much, but he is already one of France's highest paid actors
and is set for huge glory in Hollywood.
THE ARTIST is a beautifully crafted film,
exquisitely shot and brilliantly cast. It centres on silent movie star George
Valentin (Dujardin) and his fall from favour when 'talkies' come in.
Valentin is a hugely charismatic, charming
and likeable character. With his four legged Jack Russell, Uggy (who almost
steals the film), he stars in a vast number of silent movies from action-adventures
to romance and spy thrillers. However, his aversion to talking on film results
in a sudden fall from stardom, and coupled with the 1931 stock market crash, he
finds himself loveless, penniless and homeless.
A young extra, Peppy Miller (Berenice
Bejo), who was given a leg up in the industry by Valentinmeanwhile captures the hearts of audiences,
and soon becomes the doyen of the talkies. As Valentin's star fades, Peppy's
The sizzling chemistry between the two
characters leads Peppy to help her now suicidal friend and bring him back to
movies. "No one wants to pay to hear my speak" argues Valentin, in
one of the frequent subtitle cards. Instead they choreograph an amazing dance
routine, which reignites Valentin's star.
With guest turns from John Goodman,
Penelope Ann Miller, James Cromwell and Malcolm McDowell it is a film which
will capture your heart, and demonstrates that just because something is in
B&W and silent, it doesn't mean the power of storytelling is null and void
in this multiplex world.
(Gareth Owen writes the Pinewood Past column, covering the history of Pinewood Studios, in every issue of Cinema Retro)
With Halloween fast approaching I thought I
might recommend some films that seem to have found themselves, bar one or two,
languishing in DVD dungeons like forgotten prisoners.
There are many recognized classics of the
genre from The Omen and The Exorcist to The Haunting, as well as the Universal
classics such as Frankenstein, Dracula and The Mummy but some of what I humbly
call classics seldom, if ever, get a chance to shine. To try and set this
straight before the witching hour strikes, I like to recommend a few films, 13
to be precise, that you may have missed or could perhaps re visit during this
spookiest time of year.
13) Night Of The Eagle:
This superb British Witchcraft tale (known
under the more lurid title Burn Witch Burn in the U.S.) is a minor monsterpiece.
Starring Jason King himself Peter Wyngard it shows the consequences of marrying a witch in a way
that Darren and Samantha never had to deal with on Bewitched. Taking its subject matter very seriously, this
is a superbly acted little film with a, quite literally, killer climax. A Stone
Cold Classic you could say.
12) Night Of The Demon.
This genre classic would make a superb
“Night” time double bill with its predecessor in this list. Based on the short
story Casting Of The Runes by M.R. James (and known as Curse Of The Demon In
The States) this is a terrifying film whose dark atmosphere is backed up by superb
and believable performances and a classic storyline. Dana Andrews was never
better but the star of the show is Niall MacGinnis as Dr. Julian Karswell who
can switch from children’s entertainer to demon conjurer quicker than the extinguishing
of a flickering candle flame. The chase through the forest by the unseen demon
is a masterpiece of subtly which is disregarded in the climax for the full on
view of the film’s title creature. Many say this spoils the Val Lewtonesque
feel of the film but I rather like it.
11) The Devil Rides Out:
Quite simply one of the best Hammer films
ever made, with Christopher Lee acting against type, very successfully, as the
hero rather than the monster. Based on the novel by Dennis Wheatly and brought
to the screen by the superb Richard Matheson, this is Hammer firing on all four
cylinders and has some of the most memorable set pieces of the studio’s superb
output. Future Blofeld Charles Gray is excellent as Macata. One of Terence
Fishers best, a director who was to Hammer what Terence Young was to the Bond
10) The Wicker Man:
One of the key films to watch over the
period is Robin Hardy’s cult classic about a cult. Is it a musical? Is it a
horror film? Is it really a classic? Well it’s a simple yes to all of them.
When I talked to producer Michael Deeley
about this he still seemed a bit bemused about this film’s well documented past
and pointed out that the only way it could be released at the time was for it
to be trimmed and released as a double bill. Many films have had that happen over the years
(Ray Harryhausen’s Valley Of Gwangi coupled with Marianne Faithfull in Girl on
a Motorcycle (a.k.a Naked Under Leather ) but few films who’s trims ended up as
motorway landfill have such a following. The ending is still up there with that
of Planet of the Apes for those who have yet to see it. Unlike The Sixth Sense,
I had no idea of the “twist” until the shocking climax. It remains a unique
cinematic experience. The soundtrack by Paul Giovanni is as unforgettable as
the naked dance of Britt Ekland’s character Willow in the film.
Click here to view New York Times critic A.O. Scott's video tribute to Elia Kazan's 1957 classic A Face in the Crowd, in which Andy Griffith ignites the screen with one of the most dynamic performances of the decade. The film is a cautionary tale about how fame can corrupt and destroy and features superb supporting performances by Patricia Neal and Walter Matthau.
Peckinpah discusses a scene with star Dustin Hoffman.
With the pending release of the Americanized remake of Sam Peckinpah's 1971 classic Straw Dogs, writer Terrence Rafferty of the New York Times looks back at the original film and reopens the reasons why it still remains one of the most controversial movies of all time. Click here to read
Clint Eastwood's 1975 thriller The Eiger Sanction was generally dissed by critics in its day. However, as writer Jason Ivey points out, in today's climate of dumbed-down action movies, it seems like a work of art, specifically for the incredible mountain climbing sequences which Eastwood did himself, while directing! Click here to read and to view the original trailer.
Click here to order the DVD discounted from Amazon
Woody Allen's charming and intelligent comedy Midnight in Paris ranks among his best work in many years. I found the film to be an intoxicating blend of humor and sentimental homages to a lost era and the titanic talents that inhabited it. Writer Rob Kirkpatrick seems to have caught the spirit of the film and writers extensively about its merits.
Don't count New York Times film critic A.O.Scott among those who may be toasting the just-released remake of Arthur. Scott is so singularly depressed by the Russell Brand remake about a lovable alcoholic that he says it's driving him to drink. Click here to read.
In his review in the CNN, critic Tom Charity rightly calls out Hollywood for shamefully ignoring the Western film genre. He says the situation has at least momentarily been corrected with the release of True Grit. While Charity sells short the immense qualities of Henry Hathaway's original version of the film, he does say that the remake returns the genre to its former glory and ranks the film among the best of the year. Click here to read
Beneath the Dark is an ambitious new chiller that has been relegated to "premiering" on the Independent Film Channel this month. The movie falls short of its ambitions but still has enough strong points to have merited a theatrical release. Jamie-Lynn Sigler and Josh Stewart are an attractive couple driving across the Mojave Desert at night, en route to a wedding in California. A near fatal crash convinces them they should stay overnight at the first motel they come across. It will surprise no one to learn that the chosen place is run by a creepy eccentric and is virtually bereft of any other occupants. (Honestly, night clerks of motels across America should unionize to demand a better image on-screen.) The two hunker down in bed but Stewart begins acting strangely (how else can you describe behavior that finds him disinterested in sexual favors offered by Sigler?). The two begin to bicker and Stewart storms out to the deserted cafe, where he encounters a strange, almost mystical man (Afemo Omilami) who seems to inexplicably know a great deal about humiliating aspects of Stewart's past. This is coupled with him seeing strange messages and apparitions that are invisible to Sigler. The story is entertwined with the troubled life of the night clerk (Chris Browning), who is a perpetual loser, constantly humilated by his wife (Angela Featherstone) who has had to turn to stripping and bedding strangers in order to pay the rent.
Hollywood Reporter critic Todd McCarthy's take on the Coen Brothers' new version of True Grit is that it's impressively cast and enacted but lacks the humor of the source novel and John Wayne screen version. Click here to read
In his review of Tron:Legacy, Disney's sequel to its 1982 sci-fi film that introduced the CGI era, Variety critic Todd McCarthy says the movie is better than the lame original- hardly the type of praise the studio would put into ads. To read click here
New York Times film critic A.O. Scott is not an easy man to impress, but he's given an unqualified rave to Clint Eastwood's Hereafter, saying the veteran filmmaker continues to explore new territory in exciting ways- in this case, the realm of the supernatural. Click here to read
As I've often said, there are some excellent films being made nowadays - but most of them don't involve invading aliens, serial murderers or tortured teenagers. The independent film market is booming and there are some real gems currently in release- though you may have to have the skills of Sherlock Holmes to track them down. One such film is Cairo Time, a charming and intriguing love story that finds Patricia Clarkson as Juliette Grant, the middle-aged wife of a United Nations diplomat who flies to Cairo to meet him for what should be an enjoyable business conference at a swank hotel. When she gets there, she learns he has been indefinitely delayed due to a crisis in Gaza. He asks his old friend and colleague Tareq (Alexander Siddig) to show her the local sites and try to entertain her. Initially, Juliet feels awkward and attempts to go it alone - only to find herself the unwanted center of advances from the male locals. Over the course of several days, she and Tareq form a bond that is becoming uncomfortably close to crossing the line into romance.
In a harsh review, New York Times film critic Joe Nocera takes on director Oliver Stone for bunting when he could have swung for a home run with Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. Nocera says the mercurial director missed an opporunity to take on the financial crisis head-on and instead concentrated on personal dramas with the crisis only serving as a backdrop. Stone says he had to compromise or else alienate his audience by making the film too tecnhical for mass audiences. Click here to read
The web site Bachelor's Degree Blog has a good article detailing their choices for 15 of the best "Coming-of-Age" movies. In addition to insightful analysis, they provide clips from the films to bolster their arguments. Click here to read
Sylvester Stallone's reunion of 80s action stars in The Expendables has failed to impress USA Today critic Claudia Puig, though maybe a female writer isn't the intended audience Stallone had in mind. Puig gives the film the kind of unreservedly awful review that you seldom come across, calling it "... truly a movie that nobody needs — gratuitously savage, implausible and sometimes incoherent." Click here to read
Director Richard Lester's post-apocalyptic satire The Bed Sitting Room enlisted the talents of many notable British actors including Dudley Moore, Peter Cook, Ralph Richardson, Spike Milligan, and others. The film was released in 1969 and generally won respectable reviews, but died at the box-office, helping to end Lester's reputation as a new generation director who had his finger on the pulse of what young audiences wanted to see. The film has never been released on home video in the USA but last year Turner Classic Movies presented a rare showing. With great expectations, I began to watch ...but could not get past the first half hour. It was truly one of the worst movies I have ever seen, and - mind you- I'm a man who has found kind things to say about Ishtar and Heaven's Gate. Because I could not endure the entire film, I'm unqualified to make a complete judgment about it. I suppose it's possible that the movie became enchanting exactly at the point at which I turned it off - or it could be that the praise the movie has gained over the decades could be a cinematic case of The Emperor's New Clothes. Perhaps some people want to say they see subtle, hip qualities the average viewer doesn't perceive - even though the movie may just be an unintelligible mess. Writer Mike Watt, who runs the entertaining Movie Outlaw web blog, has a different take and defends the film's qualities. In the interest of being fair and balanced, click here to read his views.Click here to view trailer
Kung Phooey: The New York Times blasts The Last Airbender
By Lee Pfeiffer
Remember when a new film by director M. Night Shyamalan was perceived as an actual event? Films like The Sixth Sense, Signs and The Village gave his movies the aura of something special - and audiences anticipated being brought in unpredictable directions by the compelling storylines. Nowadays, Shyamalan is content to take the Nicholas Cage career path and trash his talents in return for a sizable paycheck. Shyamalan is now down to adapting cartoon series to the big screen with The Last Airbender, an effects-filled extravaganza designed to appeal to audiences who are glued to the fare on Saturday morning kid's TV stations. The New York Times critic A.O. Scott blasts the film in his review, saying "It’s all pretty silly, and handled with unrelenting solemnity. But
that in itself is neither unusual nor fatal. The problem — the
catastrophe — of “The Last Airbender” is not in the conception but the
execution. The long-winded explanations and clumsy performances are made
worse by graceless effects and a last-minute 3-D conversion that wrecks
whatever visual grace or beauty might have been there. The movie is so dim and fuzzy that you might mistake your
disposable 3-D glasses for someone else’s prescription shades. And Mr.
Shyamalan’s fondness for shallow-focus techniques, with a figure in the
foreground presented with sharp clarity against a blurred background, is
completely out of place in the deep-focus world of modern 3-D. The
format also has no place for one of this director’s major gifts, which
is his ability to use the implications of what is off camera to create a
mood of intrigue and suspense." For full review click here
Studios should stay away from certain titles. Back in 1946 Cary Grant starred in a widely-disdained, watered down version of Cole Porter's life titled Night and Day. Half a century later, with only the slightest variation, Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz star in the action flick Knight and Day. It's obviously geared for audiences dumb enough to consider The A-Team too Bergmanesque - and New York Times critic A.O. Scott lets loose, blasting the film as a brainless, incoherent excuse to waste money on CGI effects. To read click here
RETRO-ACTIVE: THE BEST FROM CINEMA RETRO'S ARCHIVES.
(The following piece was the first film review posted on Cinema Retro on February 25, 2007)
"Bus Riley" and William Inge: or When Playwrights Are
By Joel Shatzky
Bus Riley's Back in Town is a
1965 Universal production that is vaguely based on a play written by William Inge (1913-1973) in the
early1950's bearing the same title. Because of the rewriting of the script and plot by the studio so
that the story could be more of a vehicle for Ann-Margaret, Inge removed his name from the credits and
not even the fact that the title was from an Inge play was mentioned. It is one of the few times, I
believe, that a prominent playwright
had his credits removed from a script that was based on his own
play. Even Tennessee Williams, who had every good reason to remove his name from the credits of A
Streetcar Named Desire due to the distorted ending, abstained from such a temptation.