(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 18, 2020)
Atlantic City – Paramount
Burt Lancaster and Susan Sarandon deliver outstanding lead performances in this 1980 neo-noir/character study from Louis Malle. Lancaster plays a fading, low-level gangster eking out a living as a bookie. He is also the weary caretaker (and occasional lover) of his former boss’s ailing widow (Kate Reid), who lives in the apartment directly below (whenever she needs him, she comically yanks on an old-fashioned room-to-room bell…making him appear more like an indentured servant).
The biggest thrill in the aging hood’s life derives from an occasional peep at his sexy neighbor (Susan Sarandon), whose kitchen window directly faces his across the courtyard of their apartment building. She conducts a nightly cleaning ritual involving fresh lemons over her kitchen sink-topless (I love the soliloquy Lancaster delivers about “the lemons” after she asks him what he does when he watches her…it is a scene that in the hands of two lesser actors would play more lasciviously than so sweetly). Fate and circumstance tosses them together and puts them on the run from murderous gangsters looking to recover some stolen drugs.
John Guare’s screenplay is rich in characterization, bolstered by a marvelous cast (right down to the bit parts). Atlantic City itself becomes a key character, thanks to Richard Ciupka’s cinematography and Malle’s skillful direction. Malle chose an interesting time to film there; many old hotels and casinos were in the process of being demolished in order to make way for new construction, which adds to the overall elegiac tone.
Paramount’s Blu-ray does show a fair amount of grain and is obviously “not restored” (to which some visible debris and scratches attest), but the picture is still a vast improvement over the DVD. No extras, but I am happy to see this gem finally get a decent hi-def release (a previous Blu-ray by Gaumont, which I have not viewed, was reportedly less-than-stellar).
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 11, 2020)
Salesman– Criterion Collection
Anyone can aim a camera, ”capture” a moment, and move on…but there is an art to capturing the truth of that moment; not only knowing when to take the shot, but knowing precisely how long to hold it lest you begin to impose enough to undermine the objectivity.
For my money, there are very few documentary filmmakers of the “direct cinema” school who approach the artistry of David Maysles, Albert Maysles and Charlotte Zwerin. Collectively (if not collaboratively in every case) the trio’s resume includes Monterey Pop, Gimme Shelter, The Grey Gardens, When WeWereKings, and Thelonius Monk: Straight, No Chaser.
In their 1969 documentary Salesman, Zwerin and the brothers Maysles tag along with four door-to-door Bible salesmen as they slog their way up and down the eastern seaboard, from snowy Boston to sunny Florida. It is much more involving than you might surmise from a synopsis. One of the most trenchant, moving portraits of shattered dreams and quiet desperation ever put on film; a real-life Willy Loman tale infused with characters who bring more pathos to the screen than any actor could.
Criterion has done their usual bang-up job here, starting with a new restored 4K digital transfer. There is a commentary track by Albert Maysles and Charlotte Zwerin (from 2001). Extras include an archival 1968 TV interview with both Maysles brothers (sadly, all three directors are no longer with us).
The inclusion of “Globesman”, a spot-on 2016 parody of Salesman from the “mockumentary” IFC series Documentary Now! was a nice surprise (there’s also a short appreciation of Salesman by Documentary Now! co-creator Bill Hader).
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 11, 2020)
Mystery of the Wax Museum – Warner Archive Collection
“Images of wax that throbbed with human passion!” Get your mind out of the gutter…I’m merely quoting the purple prose that graced the original posters for this 1933 horror thriller, directed by the eclectic Michael Curtiz (Adventures of Robin Hood, The Sea Hawk, Yankee Doodle Dandy, Casablanca, Mildred Pierce, King Creole, et.al.).
Beautiful (and busy) Fay Wray (who starred in King Kong the same year) captures the eye of a disturbed wax sculptor (a hammy Lionel Atwill) for reasons that are ah…more “professional” than personal. Wray is great eye candy, but it is her co-star Glenda Farrell who steals the show as a wisecracking reporter (are there any other kind of reporters in 30s films?). Farrell’s comedy chops add just the right amount of levity to this genuinely creepy tale. A classic.
The film was considered “lost” until a lone, worn out print was discovered around 1970. It was originally filmed in the long-defunct Two-Color Technicolor process, adding to the challenge of an accurate restoration. Thank the gods for the UCLA Film and Television Archive and the Film Foundation, who tackled the project with their usual aplomb (with a little sugar from the George Lucas Family Foundation). The result is a glorious print that will make buffs wax poetic (sorry). Extras include the documentary Remembering FayWray.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 11, 2020)
Criss-Cross– Eureka Masters of Cinema (Region “B” locked)
Film noir aficionados are sure to rejoice once they see this gorgeous 4K digital restoration of the 1949 classic from revered genre director Robert Siodmak (Phantom Lady, The Suspect, The Killers, The Cry of the City, et.al.).
Burt Lancaster stars as an underpaid and over-worked armored car driver who still has the hots for his troublesome ex-wife (Yvonne De Carlo). Chagrined over her new marriage to a local mobster (veteran noir heavy Dan Duryea), he makes an ill-advised decision to ingratiate himself back into her life, leading to his half-hearted involvement in an armored car heist as the “inside man”.
Great script by Daniel Fuchs (adapted from Don Tracy’s novel; Steven Soderbergh adapted his 1995 thriller The Underneath from the same). Artful, highly atmospheric cinematography by Franz Planer.
The 1080p transfer of the 4K restoration is luminous; one of the best I have seen in a while for a classic period film noir. There are two audio commentary tracks; I have only listened to the one by film scholar Adrian Martin, who is quite enlightening. Among the extras: 31-page collector’s booklet and the Screen Director’s radio adaptation from 1949.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 11, 2020)
Britannia Hospital– Indicator Limited Edition (Region “B” locked)
This 1982 satire (a wild mashup of The Hospital,The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Magic Christian) was the final third of iconoclastic UK writer-director Lindsay Anderson’s loosely-linked “Mick Travis” trilogy. Malcolm McDowell reprises his role as Travis, the protagonist of If…. (1968) and O Lucky Man! (1973).
Anderson’s satirical targets are less defined than in the previous two films, resulting in a broad take-down of everything from the U.K.’s National Health system to corporate culture, royalty, classism and ineffectual politicos. Still, it succeeds as a two-fingered salute to Thatcherism (considering the year it came out). Huge cast; many returning from the previous films. Weirdest casting: Mark Hamill!
Indicator’s Blu-ray is a limited edition (3,000 copies) and Region “B” locked (requires a region-free player). The high-definition remastering is pristine. I have not had a chance to plow through all the extras yet, but they are plentiful. There are newly produced interviews with several participants in the production, as well as a 117-minute 1991 interview with the late director (audio only) produced as part of The British History Project.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 11, 2020)
All Night Long– Kino-Lorber
This quirky, underrated romantic comedy from Belgian director Jean-Claude Tramont has been a personal favorite of mine since I first stumbled across it on late-night TV back in the mid-80s (with a million commercials).
Reminiscent of Michael Winner’s 1967 social satire I’ll Never Forget What’s ‘is Name, the film opens with a disenchanted executive (Gene Hackman) telling his boss to shove it, which sets the tone for the mid-life crisis that ensues.
Along the way, Hackman accepts a demotion offered by upper management in lieu of termination (night manager at one of the company’s drug stores), has an affair with his neighbor’s eccentric wife (an uncharacteristically low-key Barbra Streisand) who has been fooling around with his teenage son (Dennis Quaid), says yes to a divorce from his wife (Dianne Ladd) and decides to become an inventor (I told you it was quirky).
Marred slightly by some incongruous slapstick, but well-salvaged by W.D. Richter’s drolly amusing screenplay. Hackman is wonderful as always, and I think the scene where Streisand sings a song horrendously off-key (while accompanying herself on the organ) is the funniest thing she’s ever done in a film. Despite Hackman and Streisand’s star power, the movie was curiously ignored when it was initially released. Maybe this reissue will help it find new fans.
Even though the film does not necessarily appear to have been restored, the 1080p presentation is sharp, with decent color saturation. The sole extra is a new interview with screenwriter Richter, who (to my surprise) is cantankerous about how the film turned out!
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 6, 2020)
I often use the same harmonies as pop music because the complexity of what I do is elsewhere.
— Ennio Morricone
Well, this is embarrassing. When I heard the news this morning that film composer Ennio Morricone had passed away, my initial thought was “Wait…isn’t he already gone?” I quickly came to my senses and realized I was conflating him with film director Sergio Leone, who passed away in 1989. That gaffe either demonstrates that a). I’m a tad slow on the uptake, or b). The names “Leone” and “Morricone” are forever enmeshed in the film buff zeitgeist.
Of course, if I’d really been paying attention I would have noticed that his score for Quentin Tarantino’s 2015 western The Hateful Eight was an original one; perhaps I could be allowed some leeway of willful ignorance, based on Tarantino’s history of “re-appropriating” some of Morricone’s music that was originally composed for Leone’s films back in the 60s and 70s.
While he was unarguably most recognized for collaborating with fellow countryman Leone on genre classics like A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly, Once Upon a Time in the West, and A Fistful of Dynamite (aka Duck, You Sucker!) that is not to imply that spaghetti westerns were Morricone’s raison d’etre.
Indeed, he worked with a bevy of notable film directors, like Bernardo Bertolucci (1900, Luna), Roman Polanski (Frantic), Terrence Malick (Days of Heaven), Pedro Almodovar (Tie Me Up! Tie MeDown!), Brian De Palma (The Untouchables, Casualties of War), Samuel Fuller (White Dog), even John Carpenter…a director known for also taking on the scoring duties for his films, didn’t pass up a chance to work with the maestro (The Thing).
Morricone’s music was burned into my neurons before I had even seen any of the films he scored. When I was a kid, my parents had one of those massive, wood-finished stereo consoles with built-in AM-FM tuner, turntable and speakers. One of my favorite albums in my parents’ collection was this one, by Hugo Montenegro and his Orchestra:
I remember strategically planting myself dead center (for that maximum “360 Stereo” effect). “Hut, two, three, fo! Hut, two, three, fo!Ah-ah-ah-ah-aaah, wah-wah-waaah…” I was riveted.
Something about Morricone’s music captured my imagination. I guess it was…cinematic.
That’s the beauty of Morricone’s art; you can appreciate it as a film buff, as a music fan-or both. That was evident from reactions on social media, like Yo-Yo Ma’s lovely tribute:
I'll never forget the way Ennio Morricone described music as “energy, space, and time.” It is, perhaps, the most concise and accurate description I’ve ever heard. We'll truly miss him. This is the Love Theme from "Cinema Paradiso." #EnnioMorriconepic.twitter.com/kpbkodhHrh
With an embarrassment of riches to pick from (60 years of score credits to his name), this may be a fool’s errand, but here are 10 of my favorite Morricone soundtrack compositions:
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on June 20, 2020)
The artist is the medium between his fantasies and the rest of the world.
— Federico Fellini
There are few tougher sells to moviegoers than a film that simmers in the navel-gazing angst of a creatively blocked filmmaker. Yet it has become a venerable sub-genre you can trace at least as far back as Preston Sturges’ 1941 satire Sullivan’s Travels. Joel McCrea plays a director of populist comedies who yearns to make a “meaningful” film. Racked with guilt about the comfortable bubble that his Hollywood success has afforded him and determined to learn firsthand how the other half lives, he hits the road masquerading as a penniless railroad tramp. His crash-course in “social realism” becomes more than he bargained for. What did he expect? I mean, talk about “bitching in Paradise”…am I right?
As I noted in my 2013 review of Paolo Sorrentino’s La grande bellezza (aka The Great Beauty), a drama regarding an acclaimed novelist who is weathering an existential crisis:
Sorrentino’s film left me ambivalent. Interestingly, it was very similar to the way I felt in the wake of Eat Pray Love. In my review of that film, I relayed my inability to empathize with what I referred to as the “Pottery Barn angst” on display. It’s that plaintive wail of the 1%: “I’ve got it all, and I’ve done it all and seen it all, but something’s missing…oh, the humanity!” It’s not that I don’t understand our protagonist’s belated pursuit of truth and beauty; it’s just that Sorrentino fails to make me care enough to make me want to tag long on this noble quest for 2 hours, 22 minutes.
While The Great Beauty is not about a film maker, it is nonetheless a direct descendant of Federico Fellini’s 8½. Fellini’s 1963 drama about a creatively blocked director stewing over his next project offered a groundbreaking take on the “blocked artist” trope. With a non-linear narrative and flights of fantasy, it injected the “metaphysical” into the “meta”.
It was outrageously over-the-top and completely self-indulgent (especially for 1963), but Fellini’s film managed to strike a chord with audiences and critics. That is not an easy trick to pull off. In a 2000 retrospective on the film, Roger Ebert offered this explanation:
Fellini is a magician who discusses, reveals, explains and deconstructs his tricks, while still fooling us with them. He claims he doesn’t know what he wants or how to achieve it, and the film proves he knows exactly, and rejoices in his knowledge.
It also was (and remains) a hugely influential work. Films like Paul Mazursky’s Alex in Wonderland (1970), Francois Truffaut’s Day for Night (1973), and Woody Allen’s Stardust Memories (1980) are a few of the more notable works with strong echoes of 8½.
Writer-director Abel Ferrara’s Tommaso [now playing nationally in virtual cinemas via Kino Marquee] is the latest descendant of 8½; although it offers a less fanciful and decidedly more fulminating portrait of a creative artist in crisis. The film’s star (and frequent Ferrara collaborator) Willem Dafoe is certainly no stranger to inhabiting deeply troubled characters; and his “Tommaso” is (to say the least) a troubled, troubled man.
Tommaso is a 60-something American ex-pat film maker who lives in Rome with his 29 year-old Italian wife Nikki (Cristina Chiriac) and 3 year-old daughter Dee Dee (Anna Ferrara). At first glance, Tommaso leads an idyllic life; he has ingratiated himself by taking Italian lessons from a private tutor and appears to be a fixture in his neighborhood, cheerfully going about his daily errands with the unhurried countenance of a native local.
However, as we are given more time to observe Tommaso’s home life, there is increasing evidence of trouble in Paradise. Aside from the classic schisms that tend to occur in May-December relationships, Tommaso and Nikki obviously struggle with some cultural differences. Tommaso is also on edge because he is working on a storyboard for his next film (with elements that recall The Revenant) but can’t decide what he wants it to “say”.
The angst really kicks in when Tommaso attends an AA meeting. And then another, and another. While these scenes (i.e. monologues) are somewhat static and are potential deal-breakers for some viewers, they are key in communicating Tommaso’s inner turmoil.
Of course, the question becomes…do you care? Is this all just more of that “Pottery Barn angst” that I mentioned earlier? Dude…you have a beautiful young wife and an adorable little girl, you’re slumming in Rome, you’re an artist who makes his own schedule…and all you do is whinge and moan about how your life sucks, meow-meow woof-woof. Oh, please!
On the other hand, keep in mind this is an Abel Ferrara film. Historically, Ferrara does not churn out “light” fare. If you have seen China Girl, Ms .45, Bad Lieutenant, King of New York, The Addiction, The Funeral, 4:44 Last Day on Earth, et.al.-you know he is a visceral and uncompromising filmmaker. What I’m suggesting is, don’t give up on this too early; stay with it, give it some time to stew (I confess- it took me two viewings to “get there”).
The main impetus for sticking with the film (which ultimately shares more commonalities with Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris and Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Lifethan with 8½) is to savor Dafoe’s carefully constructed performance. Handed the right material, he can be a force of nature; and here, Ferrara hands Dafoe precisely the right material.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on June 13, 2020)
Hey you know something people
I’m not black
But there’s a whole lots a times
I wish I could say I’m not white
— Frank Zappa, “Trouble Every Day”
It has been an interesting week here in Mayberry (the one with the Space Needle).
As the Seattle Police Department works to broker a deal with protesters occupying an autonomous zone in the heart of Capitol Hill, a Seattle City Council member said the area known as “CHAZ” should remain in community control permanently.
The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, known as “CHAZ,” has been in community control since Tuesday when Seattle Police Chief Carmen Best decreased the officers’ presence in the East Precinct to allow for peaceful protests.
Seattle Councilwoman Kshama Sawant called the “CHAZ” movement a major victory. She said the area should be turned over permanently into community control, instead of back in the hands of the Seattle Police Department.
Sawant said she plans to create legislation to turn the East Precinct into a community center for restorative justice. The councilwoman wants to discuss the legislation with people involved in CHAZ, black community organizations, restorative justice, faith, anti-racist, renter organizations, land trusts, groups, labor unions that have a proven record of fighting racism.
Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps
Sample a look back you look and find
Nothing but rednecks for four hundred years if you check
Don’t worry be happy
Was a number one jam
Damn if I say it you can slap me right here
(Get it) let’s get this party started right
Right on, c’mon
What we got to say (yeah)
Power to the people no delay
Make everybody see
In order to fight the powers that be
— Public Enemy, “Fight the Power”
Yes, I live in a blue city chock full of Marxists and dirty Hippies. Few cities are “bluer” than Seattle. We have have a weed shop on every corner. We have public statues of Jimi Hendrix and V.I. Lenin. We have a progressive, openly gay female mayor. We have a female African American police chief. We have a high-profile female city council member who is a Socialist Alternative. As Merlin once foretold-a dream for some…a nightmare for others:
Seattle Mayor says, about the anarchists takeover of her city, “it is a Summer of Love”. These Liberal Dems don’t have a clue. The terrorists burn and pillage our cities, and they think it is just wonderful, even the death. Must end this Seattle takeover now!
Oh, dear. Let’s take a peek at the terrorist-fueled burning and pillaging that has been raging in Seattle’s Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone for the past week (sensitive viewers be warned):
The humanity. Not quite as harrowing as a Burning Man festival…but in the ballpark.
My insufferable facetiousness aside, there is in fact a “revolution” happening in Seattle right now; and on streets all over America. “Revolution” doesn’t always equate “burning and pillaging”. Granted, some of that did occur when the protests started two weeks ago.
There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
— The Buffalo Springfield, “For What It’s Worth”
But there is something happening here; something percolating worldwide that goes deeper than that initial visceral expression of outrage over the injustice of George Floyd’s senseless death; it feels like change may be in the offing. It will still take some…nudging. And I fear some feathers may get ruffled.
It isn’t nice to block the doorway, It isn’t nice to go to jail, There are nicer ways to do it But the nice ways always fail.
— Malvina Reynolds, “It Isn’t Nice”
So it is in that spirit that I say come gather ’round, people-wherever you roam, and give a listen to my mixtape of 15 protest songs…some old, some newer, but all as timely as ever.
Alphabetically…
Green Day – “American Idiot”
The Temptations – “Ball of Confusion”
Public Enemy – “Fight the Power”
The Buffalo Springfield – “For What It’s Worth”
The Wailers – “Get Up, Stand Up”
The Specials – “Ghost Town”
Malvina Reynolds – “It Isn’t Nice”
Stevie Wonder – “Living For the City”
Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – “Ohio”
The Beatles– “Revolution”
Gil Scott-Heron – “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”
Bob Dylan – “The Times They Are A-Changin’”
Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention – “Trouble Every Day”
I hadn’t thought about The Grey Fox in years; it’s one of my favorite 80s sleepers. Something about Senator Kaine’s “gentleman bandit” couture made the film suddenly pop into my head.
Flash-forward one week: I receive an email alerting me that Philip Borsos’ 1982 gem has undergone a 4K restoration and was premiering May 29th for a limited run via Kino-Lorber’s “Kino Marquee” platform (small world!) The studio distributes to a network of select cinemas nationwide, giving movie fans a chance to buy “tickets” and support their shuttered local art house venue by streaming through that venue’s website. Here in Seattle, the film is playing via the Grand Illusion theater’s virtual screening room; for other cities / venues click here.
Filmed on location in Washington State and British Columbia, Borso’s biopic is a naturalistic “Northwestern” in the vein of Robert Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller. The film is based on the real-life exploits of “gentleman robber” Bill Miner (who may or may not have been the progenitor of the venerable felonious command: “Hands up!”).
The Kentucky native was a career criminal who spent about half his life as a guest of the State of California. First incarcerated in his early 20s, he was released in 1880 and resumed his former activities (robbing stagecoaches). The law caught up with him and he did a long stretch in San Quentin. When he got out of stir in 1901, he was in his mid-50s.
The Grey Fox picks up Miner’s story at this point, just as he is being “released into the 20th-Century” from San Quentin. Miner is wonderfully portrayed by then 60-year-old Richard Farnsworth. Farnsworth (who died in 2000 at 80) brings an uncanny authenticity to the role; not only because of age-appropriate casting, but thanks to his rugged countenance (undoubtedly stemming from his previous three decades as a stuntman). Farnsworth literally looks like he stepped directly out of the 19th-Century and walked right into this film.
John Hunter’s screenplay weaves an episodic narrative as spare and understated as its laconic and soft-spoken protagonist. Miner gets out of prison and heads north to Washington state, where he lodges with his sister and her husband and finds work. The straight and narrow wears thin on the restless ex-con. He talks a dim-witted fellow worker (Wayne Robson) into traveling with him up to Canada to be his partner-in crime. As stagecoaches are a thing of the past, Miner (not unlike Butch Cassidy) intuits a bright future in robbing trains.
Eventually Miner has to cool his heels, as a dogged Pinkerton man (Gary Reineke) is hot on his trail (he’s noticed that the perpetrator of a string of train robberies in Canada has a suspiciously similar M.O. to Miner’s past stagecoach robberies in California). He and his cohort settle in a small town in British Columbia, where Miner (now living under an alias) meets and develops a relationship with a feminist photographer (Jackie Burroughs). Do Miner’s bad, bad ways catch up with him again? That would be telling.
Borso paints an elegiac portrait of a turn-of-the century “west” that is making an uneasy transition into modernity (along the lines of Peckinpah’s Ride the High Country or Richard Brooks’ Bite the Bullet). The 4k restoration is gorgeous, highlighting DP Frank Tidy’s fabulous cinematography (he also shot Ridley Scott’s debut 1977 feature film The Duellists, one of the most beautiful-looking films this side of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon). This is a film well-worth your time, whether this is your first time viewing or you are up for a revisit.
