By Dennis Hartley
The most consistently entertaining recurring bit on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert is “Big Questions With Even Bigger Stars”. Last night’s installment is the funniest one yet, and an instant classic:
Pity about the censors (network TV), but it still gave me some much needed comic relief from Trump, Terrorists & Tories (oh my).
By Dennis Hartley
So there’s Michelangelo, Rodin…and then there’s this guy:
(from Independent UK)
A statue of Hitler on his knees by Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan has sold at auction for an earth-shattering $17.2 million (£12 million).
Titled Him, the wax sculpture was expected to make between $10million and $15 million at Christie’s auction house in New York.
Having made well over the estimated amount, the sale set a record for the Italian satirical artist, best known for La Nona Ora (The Ninth Hour) – a sculpture of Pope John Paul II having been hit by a meteorite. Cattelan’s previous record was $7.9 million for a statue of himself peeping through a hole in the floor.
Completed in 2001, Him is supposed to disrupt the viewers sense, with the work appearing like a small child from behind, yet with Hitler’s face offering a sinister contrast.
Describing the piece, the 55-year-old artists said: “Hitler is pure fear; it’s an image of terrible pain. It even hurts to pronounce his name. And yet that name has conquered my memory, it lives in my head, even if it remains taboo.
“Hitler is everywhere, haunting the spectre of history; and yet he is unmentionable, irreproducible, wrapped in a blanket of silence.
The work previously caused controversy when it was installed in a former Warsaw Ghetto, a place where thousands of Jews died under Nazi rule.
“I’m not trying to offend anyone,” Cattelan continued. “I don’t want to raise a new conflict or create some publicity; I would just like that image to become a territory for negotiation or a test for our psychoses.”
Fair enough. Although, if your intent is so truly benign (and far be it from me to feel I have any presumptive right to advise you what to do with your own hard-earned money), it would be a nice gesture to donate a portion of that $17 mil to, oh, I don’t know…The Holocaust Museum? Or maybe a human rights organization? So, what’s next?
Earlier this year, the artist revealed he would be returning to the Guggenheim Museum in New York to install a new artwork: a solid gold toilet titled America which patrons of the gallery may use.
Hang on. Crapping on America whilst seated on a solid gold toilet? Hate to break it to you, but Mr. Trump could sue you for plagiarism.
By Dennis Hartley
It was 50 years ago today (or thereabouts)…
(from USA Today)
This year, 400 since the death of Shakespeare and 90 since the birth of Elizabeth II, is also the 50th anniversary of Swinging London, a time and place that produced the British Invasion rock bands, Georgy Girl and Darling, Twiggy and The Shrimp and the miniskirt.
In the 1960s, London — epitome of everything hierarchical, traditional and stodgy — was the site of a revolution in music, fashion and design. Lords partied with bricklayers, rockers with gangsters. Anything seemed possible.
The scene was made famous by an April 1966 Time magazine cover story, titled “The city that swings.’’ It described a place where “ancient elegance and new opulence are all tangled up in a dazzling blur of op and pop.’’
[…]
The 50th anniversary of Swinging London is being marked at a Saatchi Gallery show of Stones memorabilia. Jimi Hendrix’ old flat (once Handel’s attic) has opened to tourists.This summer the Victoria & Albert Museum begins an exhibition, You Say You Want a Revolution?
Yeaahh, baby!
I’m a bit of an Anglophile; I particularly love the British music, films and TV shows of that era. In fact, 1966 was a watershed year for British cinema: Alfie, After the Fox, The Deadly Affair, Fahrenheit 451, Funeral in Berlin, Georgy Girl, A Man For All Seasons, The Wrong Box, and of course, Antonioni’s Blow-Up. Here’s my favorite scene:
As for the most memorable UK TV show of ’66, 2 words: Emma Peel!
And lest we forget the fab UK music of ’66…here are my top picks:
Now if you will excuse me, it’s time for my tea and bickie. Cheers!
By Dennis Hartley
Just because Blockbuster and Hollywood Video are kaput, don’t think that you are off the hook. You scofflaws know who you are:
A North Carolina man faces a court date after a bizarre arrest for not returning a 15-year-old VHS rental, but he may receive a little help from the movie’s star.
James Meyers said he was pulled over on Tuesday morning for a broken taillight, but later learned that there was a warrant out for his arrest because he had not returned a copy of “Freddy Got Fingered” he rented in late 2001.
The 37-year-old single dad told the Daily News that cops allowed him to continue driving his daughter to school, but was later handcuffed and taken into custody when he met up with police that afternoon.
Luckily for him, this lawless ne’er-do-well has a guardian angel:
[Tom] Green, who is currently on a stand-up comedy tour in Australia, told the Daily News that he is happy to support fans of his film, which was the subject of terrible reviews and currently has an 11% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.
The 44-year-old comedian, who said that Rotten Tomatoes is “in the business of hating on art,” said that he could put in a good word with the court or even help out financially as long as the outcome doesn’t involve an outrageous sum.
Goddam movie critics. Always hating on art. Insufferable snobs.
Apparently, this has happened before, back in 2014:
Kayla Finley, 27, had visited a police station to report a crime, only to find a warrant for her arrest had been issued in 2005, when she was 18.
Ms Finley had rented a VHS copy of romantic comedy Monster In Law, starring Jennifer Lopez and Jane Fonda.
According to local television station Fox Carolina, Ms Finley was “shocked and disgusted” at the arrest.
Police said several warning letters about the overdue video were sent to Ms Finley, but she had since changed address.
[…]
Monster In Law, released in 2005 and directed by Robert Luketic, was mostly panned by critics.
So there are 3 lessons we have learned today:
Class dismissed.
By Dennis Hartley
Well, we got through the Oscar telecast last night, and the world is still here. Yes it was awkward (I had to disable my Liberal Guilt Chip before tuning in), but it’s part of my duties as an alleged movie critic.
Thank god for Chris Rock, who found the sweet spot between acknowledging the elephant in the room and keeping everything moving along. He doled out some shaming on the Academy (as there should have been), but Rock is such a pro that everyone was too busy laughing to be taken aback; and when he made a direct statement about affording people of color more opportunities in Hollywood, it was refreshingly devoid of sanctimony or grandstanding.
I dug Leo’s stump on global warming (anything that makes the deniers twitch is OK in my book) but the most eloquent moment of the night was Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy’s acceptance speech for winning Best Documentary Short. Of course, now I’ll have to face my own shaming for admitting that I haven’t had a chance to see any of the Best Documentary Short nominees (bad critic! bad! bad!). However, I did manage to see and review the other shorts nominees.
I don’t normally “root” for one movie or the other, but I have to say that I was pulling for When Marnie Was There (my review), which lost to Pixar’s Inside Out for Best Animated Feature I expected a little love for Studio Ghibli, especially since this wonderful film is purported to be the swan song for anime master Hayao Miyazaki.
But you can’t have everything. Hey…is there a trophy for that?
BTW your thoughts on the Oscars are welcome (be civil)…
By Dennis Hartley
R.I.P. Bob Elliott (on the right) 1923-2016
This blog is starting to look more and more like an obituary column. It’s either that, or I’m getting old (keep your opinions to yourself).
Bob Elliott, the last surviving half of the comedy duo “Bob & Ray”, has “gone dark” (as we say in broadcasting when you sign off for good).
I grew up listening to (and watching) Bob and Ray, from the early 60s through the late 80s. They were one of my main inspirations for going into radio (along with the Firesign Theater, who were surely influenced by them). They invented what I call “stealth comedy”. Their delivery was so low-key, their satire so subtle that many people didn’t realize that they were…comedians (they perfected the “fake news” shtick decades before SNL or The Daily Show). They were also masters of the time-released zinger, as perfectly illustrated in this classic bit:
Another one of my faves-an interview with History’s worst historian:
…and fade to commercial…(cue announcer)…
By Dennis Hartley
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on January 9, 2016)
Years ago, in days of old (when magic filled the air)…before the interwebs (or cable, even), we ancient folk suffered a kind of post-holiday, affective disorder called “mid-season blues”. Granted, one could say the very concept of television “seasons” has become moot, with a growing wave of cable subscribers (350,000 in Q3 of last year), who have “cut the cord” and opted for Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, HBO Now, etc. etc.
But there remain some of us who still subscribe (literally) to the Old Ways. I don’t know, perhaps it’s that tactile sensation of brandishing a remote. Or maybe it’s the warm, special feeling I get when I receive my monthly Xfinity “Triple Play” bill of $244, which not only gives me access to the interwebs and 200 channels (out of which I only watch about 15 with any regularity), but provides me with a good ol’ reliable land line, which keeps me up-to-date on all the latest phone scams (“Hello! I’m calling from Microsoft.”).
If you dig around enough, you can still find some worthwhile teevee for your viewing pleasure. It does take some work, because you have to be willing to hold your nose and sift through a load of offal (read: reality TV programming) to unearth the odd gem. So for anyone who cares, here is my current top 10 list of “must see TV”, in alphabetical order:
Decades (Decades) – Now that the “History” Channel (home to the likes of Pawn Stars, Ancient Aliens, and erm, Swamp People) appears hell bent on covering anything but, history buffs have to do a little detective work in order to get their fix. This daily news magazine, the flagship show for the Decades channel, is right in the wheelhouse. Hosted by Bill Curtis, the show employs the venerable “this day in history” formula, utilizing clips from the news vaults of parent company CBS. “And that’s the way it is…”
The Director’s Chair (El Rey Network) – Robert Rodriguez goes one-on-one with fellow directors, Charlie Rose style. Not unlike David Steinberg’s excellent Showtime series Inside Comedy, the peer-to-peer shop talk approach yields conversations that are candid, insightful, and enlightening. Guests have included John Carpenter, Michael Mann, Francis Ford Coppola, George Miller, and some buddy of his named Quentin something.
Fargo (FX) – I confess being late to this party; I passed on Season 1 because I have a block against shows spun from films (personal problem). I had so many friends lobbying me to check out Season 2 that I finally binge-watched all 13 hours, to get them off my back. Imagine my surprise once I discovered how extraordinarily good the show is. The Coen’s involvement is minimal, but their thumbprints are all over it: arch, darkly funny heartland noir, smartly written, marvelously acted and tightly directed. Kirsten Dunst and Patrick Wilson are both up for possible Golden Globes tomorrow night, and rightfully so.
Humans (AMC) – What this UK-produced sci-fi drama series may lack in originality (it’s the umpteenth riff on Ray Bradbury’s short story, I Sing the Body Electric and/or Philip K. Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?) is more than made up for by its dynamic execution. Currently on hiatus (AMC has confirmed a second season for 2016), the narrative centers on how the addition of a servile “synth” (your basic drop-dead gorgeous android) to the household affects the dynamics of an already dysfunctional upper middle-class family. While the android is allegedly factory fresh, there are hints that “she” may have a complicated past, which introduces conspiracy thriller elements to the tale. Uniformly well-acted, but the most compelling performance is by Gemma Chan as the family’s synth. The series was adapted from the Swedish TV drama Real Humans.
Independent Lens / P.O.V. (PBS) – I’m consolidating this pair of curated series because they are, in a fashion, two parts of a whole. Both provide a fabulous showcase for indie nonfiction films (representing a truly democratic diversity of voices and topics) that may not be otherwise accessible to a broad audience (on “free” TV, no less!). I’ve noticed that many of the better documentaries I’ve covered at the Seattle International Film Festival find their way to PBS (getting distribution for a documentary can be a tough row to hoe).
Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (HBO) – With no disrespect to Trevor Noah, who is doing a bang-up job with The Daily Show, what with Jon Stewart’s retirement and Stephen Colbert’s defection to the straight world, I’ve been going through satirical withdrawal. But thank the gods for HBO, and their wise decision to give John Oliver a platform for his pointed, gloriously demented take downs of hypocrisy in all of its guises.
Live from Daryl’s House (Palladia) – Daryl Hall has had an eclectic career, stretching himself as an artist in ways that may surprise casual music fans who only think of him as one-half of one of the most successful pop music duos in chart history. His musical flexibility comes in handy in this multiple platform cable show (since 2011) and webcast (since 2007). It’s a simple concept; a guest artist joins Hall and his band at his rustic home/private studio in upstate New York for food, conversation and (of course) lots of jamming. What makes it fun is the vibe of intimacy and spontaneity (although you can tell from the incredible tightness of the arrangements that they’ve rehearsed all the numbers). Still, it gives you an enjoyable illusion of being a “fly on the wall” at the session. The guest roster has been quite varied, ranging from established classic rockers, soul, R&B, blues and pop artists to up and coming acts. Some personal favorite sessions: Todd Rundgren, Joe Walsh, Nick Lowe, Ben Folds, Rumer, Allen Stone, Grace Potter, Dave Stewart, Smokey Robinson, Toots & the Maytals…hell-(as they say) it’s all good!
Maron (IFC) – Following in the footsteps of Seinfeld and Louis, comedian/podcast host Marc Maron plays a theatrically embroidered version of “himself” in this acerbically amusing look at what comedians “do” those remaining 23 hours a day when they are not on stage. Yes, it’s another show about “nothing”…but darker and more angst-ridden than the aforementioned, with a Saul Bellow vibe. But still funny. Very, very funny. Trust me.
Ray Donovan (Showtime) – If you miss The Sopranos, Breaking Bad, or Sons of Anarchy, this series should more than adequately fill that void in your life that cries out for a weekly “criminal thug as harried family guy” drama to really sink your teeth into. The Donovans are a clan of Boston Southies who have transplanted to sunny L.A. Liev Schreiber leads a fine cast as Ray, a Hollywood “fixer” (think George Clooney’s eponymous character in Michael Clayton, or Harvey Keitel’s “Mr. Wolf” in Pulp Fiction). Ray’s methods for making his wealthy clients’ problems “disappear” are discreet, but hardly legal. Of course, he does it all to support his family, who are dysfunctional at best. In fact, he spends just as much time making his own family’s problems disappear; especially those of his two brothers, and his father (Jon Voight, rarely better, as one of the most odious “bad dads” of all time). Can’t wait for Season 4.
Star Talk (National Geographic Channel) – Astrophysicist/head cheerleader for science Neil deGrasse Tyson continues his crusade against ignorance and superstition in America (yes, it’s still rampant…have you been following this election cycle?) with this lively, brain-stimulating talk show, which just wrapped up its second season. Far from a dry science lecture, Tyson infuses pop culture and humor into the mix; inviting a scientist and a standup comic to share the stage with him each week. In turn, this panel parses and adds color to Tyson’s in-depth, pre-taped interview with whoever that week’s special guest is. The guests hail from a wide spectrum of professions: actors, musicians, authors, entrepreneurs, politicians, film directors, astronauts. What I love about the show is how the conversation expands into all directions (art, music, religion, politics, history, philosophy, economics, etc.) yet always loops back to science, and the joy of discovery.
By Dennis Hartley
Apropos to the opening weekend of The Force Awakens, Chaz Ebert unearthed a fabulously entertaining vintage Nightline clip over at her blog that features a three way dust-up (quite civil, actually) between her late husband Roger, Gene Siskel and venerable New York-based critic John Simon. The year was 1983, the subject at hand was the original Star Wars trilogy. Return of the Jedi had recently opened, apparently prompting Simon to go on a tear reiterating his disdain for the franchise. He had famously lambasted the 1977 original, writing:
Strip Star Wars of its often striking images and its highfalutin scientific jargon, and you get a story, characters, and dialogue of overwhelming banality, without even a “future” cast to them: Human beings, anthropoids, or robots, you could probably find them all, more or less like that, in downtown Los Angeles today. Certainly the mentality and values of the movie can be duplicated in third-rate non-science of any place or period.
I sense hostility.
Anyhoo…Ted Koppel was the moderator, John Simon played Darth Vader, and Roger and Gene stood in for Luke and Han. Check it out:
God, I miss Siskel & Ebert (I wrote a tribute a few years back). They may have not have always seen eye to eye, but as evidenced in the clip they could be a formidable tag team. I love the part where Simon champions Tender Mercies over Return of the Jedi as a film he would take his (hypothetical) children to see. Tender Mercies is a great film, but if I wanted to treat my (hypothetical) kids to a Saturday matinee, I’d probably opt for the fun space western with the cute robots over the painterly character study about the, erm… recovering alcoholic .
But that’s just me.
By Dennis Hartley
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 28, 2015)
In my review of J.J. Abrams’ 2009 reboot of the Star Trek movie franchise, I wrote:
Gene Roddenberry’s universally beloved creation has become so ingrained into our pop culture and the collective subconscious of Boomers […] that the producers of the latest installment didn’t have to entitle it with a qualifier. It’s not Star Trek: Origins, or Star Trek: 2009. It’s just Star Trek. They could have just as well called it Free Beer, judging from the $80,000,000 it has rung up at the box office already.
This likely explains the prodigious outpouring of sentiment regarding Leonard Nimoy’s passing. And this is not emanating solely from the geekier sectors of the blogosphere, but from such bastions of traditional journalism as The New York Times, which duly noted:
His artistic pursuits — poetry, photography and music in addition to acting — ranged far beyond the United Federation of Planets, but it was as Mr. Spock that Mr. Nimoy became a folk hero, bringing to life one of the most indelible characters of the last half century: a cerebral, unflappable, pointy-eared Vulcan with a signature salute and blessing: “Live long and prosper”.
Of course, my “logical” half is well aware that this “unflappable, pointy-eared Vulcan” was a fictional creation, in reality a nice Jewish boy from Boston (“Lenny” to his friends) who was only playing a half-human, half-alien science officer on a silly sci-fi TV show.
By all accounts, Nimoy was an engaging and generous human being, who devoted off-screen time to various progressive political and social causes. Fellow Star Trek alumnus George Takei offered touching insight on this aspect in an MSNBC interview earlier this week.
But back to the pointy-eared gentleman, an early and critical role model for me as a child. Keep in mind, at the time of the TV show’s initial run (1966), I was all of 10 years old. Also, note that I was kind of a weird 10 year-old. I wasn’t that keen on hanging out with kids my age; I always had an easier time relating to elders (my best friend at the time was 13).
To me, children were silly, immature creatures; I generally found their behavior to be quite “illogical” (believe me…it took years to de-evolve into the silly man-child I am today; to quote Bob Dylan, “ I was much older then, I’m younger than that now”).
While many of my little friends thought he was the shit, cocky Captain Kirk never did it for me (I’ve always had an issue with authority figures, not to mention that whole alpha male thing).
But I could relate to Mr. Spock. I think he appealed to my own sense of “otherness”. Also, like Mr. Spock, I’m a “halfsie” (my parents might as well have been from different planets-a Jewish girl from Brooklyn and a Protestant farm boy from Ohio).
But that’s my personal take. I think Spock’s mass appeal stems from a universal recognition of the inherent duality within us all. When it comes to love and war, the constant vacillation between our logical and emotional selves is the very definition of human nature, nest’-ce pas?
This is best demonstrated by the very human Mr. Nimoy himself, who once decried “I am not Spock” in his eponymous 1975 autobiography, only to recant that, oh, wait… “I am Spock” with his follow-up memoir 20 years on.
Perhaps he’d had time to ponder something his own character once said: “Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end.” And, as it does to us all, this one particular epiphany came tagging along with age, finally presenting itself in the fullness of time: We are all Spock.
By Dennis Hartley
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on November 22, 2014)
1931-2014
Mike Nichols passed away earlier this week. Perhaps more than any other film director I can think of, his catalog (stretching from 1966 to 2007) encapsulates the crucial paradigm shifts in America’s social mores (and to some extent, changes in the political landscape) over the past 50 years.
I also consider him one of the progenitors of the modern “dramedy”, enriched by his background in comedy improv (he was a key player in an early 60s troupe that would morph into Second City) and in his experience as a theater director. He was, in every sense of the term, an “actor’s director”, clearly evident from the iconic performances that he coaxed from the likes of Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Dustin Hoffman, Anne Bancroft, Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson. I don’t think he ever made a “bad” film, which makes it difficult to narrow down favorites…but I’ll spotlight my top three choices:
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – If words were needles, university history professor George (Richard Burton) and his wife Martha (Elizabeth Taylor) would look like a pair of porcupines, because after years of shrill, shrieking matrimony, these two have become maestros of the barbed insult, and the poster children for the old axiom, “you only hurt the one you love”. Mike Nichols’ 1966 directing debut (adapted by Ernest Lehman from Edward Albee’s Tony-winning stage play) gives us a peek into one night in the life of this battle-scarred middle-aged couple.
After a faculty party, George and Martha invite a young newlywed couple (George Segal and Sandy Dennis) over for a nightcap. As the ever-flowing alcohol kicks in, the evening becomes a veritable primer in bad human behavior. It’s basically a four-person play, but these are all fine actors, and the writing is the real star of this piece.
Everyone in the cast is fabulous, but Taylor is the particular standout; this was a breakthrough performance for her in the sense that she proved beyond a doubt that she was more than just a pretty face. Don’t forget, the actress behind this blowsy, 50-ish character was only 34 (and, of course, a genuine stunner). When “Martha” says “Look, sweetheart. I can drink you under any goddam table you want…so don’t worry about me,” you don’t doubt that she really can.
The Graduate- “Aw gee, Mrs. Robinson.” It could be argued that those were the four words in this 1967 Mike Nichols film that made Dustin Hoffman a star. With hindsight being 20/20, it’s impossible to imagine any other actor in the role of hapless college grad Benjamin Braddock…even if Hoffman (30 at the time) was a bit long in the tooth to be playing a 21 year-old character. Poor Benjamin just wants to take a nice summer breather before facing adult responsibilities, but his pushy parents would rather he focus on career advancement immediately, if not sooner.
Little do his parents realize that in their enthusiasm, they’ve inadvertently pushed their son right into the sack with randy Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), wife of his Dad’s business partner (the original cougar?). Things get more complicated after Benjamin meets his lover’s daughter (Katharine Ross). This is one of those “perfect storm” creative collaborations: Nichols’ skilled direction, Calder Willingham and Buck Henry’s witty screenplay, fantastic performances from the entire cast, and one of the best soundtracks ever (by Simon and Garfunkel). Some of the 60s trappings haven’t dated well, but the incisive social satire has retained its sharp teeth.
Silkwood– The tagline for this 1983 film was intriguing: “On November 13th, 1974, Karen Silkwood, an employee of a nuclear facility, left to meet with a reporter from the New York Times. She never got there.” One might expect a riveting conspiracy thriller to ensue; however what director Nichols and screenwriters Nora Ephron and Alice Arden do deliver is an absorbing character study of an ordinary working-class woman who performed an act of extraordinary courage which may have led to her untimely demise.
Meryl Streep delivers a typically masterful performance as Silkwood, who worked as a chemical tech at an Oklahoma facility that manufactured plutonium pellets for nuclear reactor fuel rods. On behalf of her union (and based on her own observations) Silkwood testified before the AEC in 1974, blowing the whistle on health and safety issues at her plant. Shortly afterwards, she tested positive for an unusually high level of plutonium contamination. Silkwood alleged malicious payback from her employers, while they countered that she had engineered the scenario herself.
Later that year, on the last night of her life, she was in fact on her way to meeting with a Times reporter, armed with documentation to back her claims, when she was killed after her car ran off the road. Nichols stays neutral on the conspiratorial whispers; but still delivers the goods, thanks in no small part to his exemplary cast, including Kurt Russell (as Silkwood’s husband), and Cher (who garnered critical raves and a Golden Globe) as their housemate.
Also recommended: Catch-22, Carnal Knowledge, The Day of the Dolphin, Working Girl, Primary Colors, Angels in America, Charlie Wilson’s War (my review).