HE-posted 17 years ago:

I saw Close Encounters of the Third Kinr three times during the initial 1977 run, but when I saw it again on laser disc in the early ’90s I began to realize how consistently irritating and assaultive most of it is from beginning to end.

There are so many moments that are profoundly irritating or stylistically affected or impossible to swallow, I’m starting to conclude that there almost isn’t a single scene in that film that doesn’t offend in some way. The air traffic controller scene is an exception, and by far the best scene in the film. The opening Sonora desert scene is also first-rate; ditto the mother-ship arrival scene near the conclusion.

Othewise I can’t watch CE3K now without gritting my teeth. Almost everything about that film that seemed delightful or stunning or even breathtaking in ’77 (excepting those first few seconds and the mothership arrival at the end) now makes me want to jump out the window.

That stupid mechanical monkey with the cymbals.

Those little toys that suddenly activate and start moving around.

The way those little screws on the floor heating vent unscrew themselves.

The way those Indian guys all point heavenward at the the exact same moment when they’re asked where the sounds came from.

Melinda Dillon going “Bahahahhahhree!”

That idiotic invisible poison gas scare around Devil’s Tower.

That awful actor playing that senior Army officer who denies it’s a charade.

The way the electricity comes back on in Muncie, Indiana, at the same moment that those three small UFOs drones disappear into the heavens.

The shut-down, mule-like resistance of Teri Garr‘s character to believe even a little bit in Richard Dreyfuss‘s sightings.

It’s one unlikely, implausible, baldly manipulative crap move after another.

The worst element of all is the way Spielberg has those guys who are supposed to board the mother ship wearing the same red jumpsuits and sunglasses and acting like total robots. Why? No reason. Spielberg just liked the idea of them looking and acting that way. This is a prime example of why his considerable gifts don’t overcome the fact that he’s a hack. He knows how to get you but there’s never anything under the “get.”

Last night HE correspondent David Chien attended a special 70mm mag-track screening of James Cameron‘s The Abyss (’89). Fox Movie Night, 6:30 pm, Zanuck theatre on the Fox lot. Thanks to Schawn Belston and James Finn for the invite. Here’s David’s report:

“The Zanuck was about half-filled. I haven’t been in this theater in over a decade — last time was for a weekend screening of X-Men: The Last Stand with the screenwriters in attendance. The theater is nice and cozy and state-of-the-art. In particular, its sound system holds up quite well. The space reminds me of the Aero in Santa Monica but with better upholstery and vibe. I have a soft spot for screening venues (such as the Academy Theater) at which food is prohibited.

“As people were filing in, a slideshow/video was projected (digitally) on the screen, featuring details about 35mm-to-70mm conversion on a projector as well as production photos and quotes about The Abyss. One that stood out: Gale Anne Hurd stating that this was the hardest film she ever made (I believe it). One fact that stood out: The Abyss was the first film of its kind to record sync-sound while actors were submerged in water (the weight of this achievement had not occurred to me as deeply until last night during the actual show).

“The screening started on time. Finn nd Belston shared additional details about the screening. The 70mm print used last night is especially rare as Kodak no longer produces this type of acetate film stock. Also, as a 6-track mag print, the analog sound associated with this version of the film is rather unique. For this Fox Movie Night event (something specifically for Fox employees and their friends/family), the planning took months. Apparently, the projectionist spent weeks to adjust picture and sound. On the website, in70mm.com, I located The Abyss projection letter, signed by Cameron and Hurd, on which they explain the importance of brightness and volume. I suspect the projection team at Zanuck studied such notes.

“The 70mm print still had the Cineplex Odeon logos and two Fox trailers attached. First up was War of the Roses. It was immediately apparent how damned loud the presentation would be (for me, a good thing, as I enjoy that kind of immersive volume). Then, there was a largely text-based teaser (one which I had never viewed) for Die Hard 2. Its punchline moment had the theater laughing.

“This was the theatrical cut of The Abyss. Like other films of the era — Aliens, Terminator 2, JFK, The Professional — I usually leaned towards the shorter versions. From a theatrical perspective, the tighter pacing and focused narrative play better for me. I feel the same about Close Encounters, which of course The Abyss owes a great debt. I also noticed this time how much of The Abyss was appropriated by Interstellar. Nolan was there last night, by the way — sitting dead center in the front row, Tarantino-style, for the most immersive journey.

“What can I say about The Abyss? I grew up watching it many times, with my father, via several editions of laserdisc sets. CLV and CAV, theatrical and extended, pan-and-scan (Super 35mm formatted) and letterboxed. It is a technical marvel, Das Boot meets Close Encounters. The last time I watched it — and the only time theatrically — was at the Aero, in fact, back during the summer of 2009. We were promised a 70mm print of both The Abyss and Aliens. If memory serves, that night it was only a 35mm of the former but a beat up 70mm of the latter. And Cameron was there and made an awfully funny joke about Michael Mann being way more of a pain on set than he.

A 30th anniversary, 3-disc, triple-dip Close Encounters of the Third Kind DVD came out on 11.13. It’s a Blade Runner package in that it has the original ’77 version, that awful extra-footage, inside-the-mother-ship version that came out in ’80, and the director’s cut that came out in ’98 or thereabouts. Reading about it reminded me to never, ever see this film again.

I’ll always love the opening seconds of Steven Spielberg‘s once-legendary film, which I saw on opening day at Manhattan’s Zeigfeld theatre on 11.16.77. (I wasn’t a journalist or even a New Yorker at that stage — I took the train in from Connecticut that morning.) I still get chills thinking about that black-screen silence as the main credits fade in and out — plainly but ominously. And then John Williams‘ organish space-music sounding faintly, and then a bit more…slowly building, louder and louder. And then that huge orchestral CRASH! at the exact split second that the screen turns the color of warm desert sand, and we’re in the Sonoran desert looking for those pristine WW II planes without the pilots.

That was probably Spielberg’s finest creative wow-stroke. He never delivered a more thrilling moment after that, and sometimes I think it may have been all downhill from then on, even during the unfolding of Close Encounters itself.

I saw it three times during the initial run, but when I saw it again on laser disc in the early ’90s I began to realize how consistently irritating and assaultive it is from beginning to end. There are so many moments that are either stylistically affected or irritating or impossible to swallow, I’m starting to conclude that there isn’t a single scene in that film that doesn’t offend in some way. I could write 100 pages on all the things that irk me about Close Encounters. I can’t watch it now without gritting my teeth. Everything about that film that seemed delightful or stunning or even breathtaking in ’77 (excepting those first few seconds and the mothership arrival at the end) now makes me want to jump out the window.

That stupid mechanical monkey with the cymbals. The way those little screws on the floor heating vent unscrew themselves. The way those Indian guys all point heavenward at the the exact same moment when they’re asked where the sounds came from. “Bahahahhahhree!” That idiotic invisible poison gas scare around Devil’s Tower. That awful actor playing that senior Army officer who denies it’s a charade. The way the electricity comes back on in Muncie, Indiana, at the same moment that those three small UFOs drones disappear in the heavens. The mule-like resistance of Teri Garr‘s character to believe even a little bit in Richard Dreyfuss‘s sightings. It’s one unlikely, implausible, baldly manipulative crap move after another.

If only Spielberg had the talent to blend his fertile imaginings with a semblance of half-believable realism…but he doesn’t. Or didn’t back then.

The worst element of all is the way Spielberg has those guys who are supposed to board the mother ship wearing the same red jumpsuits and sunglasses and acting like total robots. Why? No reason. Spielberg just liked the idea of them looking and acting that way. This is a prime example of why his considerable gifts don’t overcome the fact that he’s a hack. He knows how to get you but there’s never anything under the “get.”

The ending of No Country for Old Men is obviously irritating to some, but the thematic echoes and undercurrents from the last scene stay with you like some kind of sad back-porch symphony. Spielberg’s films have almost never accomplished anything close to this. I’m not sure they have even once. Has anyone tried watching the “little girl in red” scene in Schindler’s List lately? I love most of that 1993 film, but this scene gets a little bit worse every time.

The career of poor Teri Garr, who sadly passed today at age 79, peaked between ’74 and ’85…roughly 11 years. Garr was 30 when it began, 41 when it ended.

The highlight vehicles were Mel Brooks‘ Young Frankenstein (ditzy, good-sport blonde), Steven Spielberg‘s Close Encounters of the Third Kind (the almost villainous, spirit-crushing wife of Richard Dreyfuss), Carl Reiner‘s Oh, God!, Sydney Pollack‘s Tootsie (ditzy actress friend of Dustin Hoffman‘s Michael Dorsey), Francis Coppola‘s One From The Heart (1982), opposite Michael Keaton in Mr. Mom and in Martin Scorsese‘s After Hours. What is that, seven?

Garr’s smallish performance in Tootsie resulted in a nomination for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, but her big signature role…the one we all immediately recall… was the frisky Inga Binga in Young Frankenstein.

Gene Wilder: “What knockers!” Garr: “Oohh, zenk you, doctor!”

Several classic actresses are known for certain signature lines of dialogue. Faye Dunaway…”Christina, get the axe!” or “don’t fuck with me, fellas!” Vivien Leigh…”I’ve always depended upon the kindness of strangers” or “after all, tomorrow is another day!” Ingrid Bergman…”play it, Sam…play ‘As Time Goes By’.” Bette Davis…”what a dump!” Katharine Hepburn…”Mr. Allnut, could you make a torpedo?”

It’s a fact (and certainly not a put-down) that Garr’s signature line is “he would have an enormous schwanzstucker!”** But she had a lot more going on than mere attractiveness and a flair for light, self-deprecating comedy.

** It would have been a funnier line if Garr had said “enormous schtufenhaufer.”

I re-watched my 4K UHD Apocalypse Now Bluray last night, and I wasn’t totally happy. I saw this 1979 classic at the Ziegfeld theatre two or three times in August and September of ’79, and the big-screen presentation (we’re thinking back almost 44 years) blows the 4K disc away. Aurally and visually, but especially in terms of sharp, punctuating fullness of sound.

Apocalypse Now was presented at the Ziegfeld within a 2:1 aspect ratio, which Vittorio Storaro insisted upon through thick and thin. The 4K disc uses what looked to me with a standard Scope a.r. of 2.39:1.

And the general sharpness of the image on that big Ziegfeld screen just isn’t replicated by the 4K. It looks “good”, of course, but not as good as it should.

As we begin to listen to The Doors’ “The End” while staring at that tropical tree line, John Densmore’s high hat could be heard loudly and crisply from a Ziegfeld side speaker. Before that moment I had never heard any high-hat sound so clean and precise. But it doesn’t sound nearly as pronounced on the 4K disc, which I listened to, by the way, with a pricey SONOS external speaker.

Remember that “here’s your mission, Captain” scene with G.D. Spradlin, Harrison Ford and that white-haired guy? When that scene abruptly ends, we’re suddenly flooded with electronic synth organ music…it just fills your soul and your chest cavity. Filled, I should say, 44 years ago. But not that much with the disc.

When Martin Sheen and the PBR guys first spot Robert Duvall and the Air Cav engaged in a surfside battle, Sheen twice says “arclight.” In the Ziegfeld the bass woofer began rumbling so hard and bad that the floor and walls began to vibrate like bombs were exploding on 54th Street…the hum in my rib cage was mesmerizing. Not so much when you’re watching the 4K.

As Duvall’s gunship helicopters take off for the attack on a Vietnamese village (“Vin Din Lop…all these gook names sound the same”), an Army bugler begins playing the cavalry charge. It was clear as a bell in the Ziegfeld — less so last night.

I’m very sorry about the passing of Melinda Dillon, who was quite the vulnerable mainstay in several stand-out films from the ’70s,’80s and ’90s — Slap Shot, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Absence of Malice, Bound for Glory, A Christmas Story, The Prince of Tides. I somehow never read about her having landed a Tony nomination in 1963 (when she was 23 or 24) for her performance in the Sandy Dennis role in the original B’way stage production of Edward Albee‘s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. This isn’t a profound observation, but the way Dillon called out for her young son (Cary Guffey) in CE3K — “Bahhahhhrrreeee!” — has been lodged in my memory ever since.

Steven Spielberg‘s Close Encounters of the Third Kind opened in New York City on Wednesday, 11.16.77. That very day I caught an afternoon show at Manhattan’s Ziegfeld theatre, and the instant that John Williams‘ music delivered the big crashing crescendo, concurrent with the appearance of the faded-yellow sandstorm vista in the Sonoran desert, the Ziegfeld’s massive sub-woofer speakers delivered a rib-vibrating whomp. Actually a combination of a whomp and a whoom. It was wonderful.

The over-praising of The Fabelmans among mainstream media types…what is there to say except “what else is new”? We’re all familiar with the industry-wide instinct to kowtow to the lore of Steven Spielberg-directed films…a syndrome that’s been locked into the psychological Hollywood bloodstream for several decades, as natural and inevitable as a mountain stream or even the weather.

It’s not that The Fabelmans is a bad film — of course not! It’s a fairly good one in several respects, but you also have to qualify this with a sensible “yes, okay but calm down.” I’ve said this two or three times, but a truly fair-minded, non-obsequious opinion would have to acknowledge that the saga of Spielberg’s teenage years (mostly Phoenix, some Saratoga) is neither boring nor hugely interesting. It’s diverting in an on-the-nose, broadly performed way, but it mainly boils down to “decent with three pop-throughs — the Judd Hirsch rant, filming the Nazi war flick in the Arizona desert, and John Ford lecturing 17-year-old Steven about horizon lines.”

Face it — that’s what The Fabelmans is. It’s not a put-down to call it “good enough” or “reasonably decent.” And Matt Patches is correct — the major roles (including Ford at the end) could have been eccentrically performed by Eddie Murphy in white-person makeup.

Chris Evangelista is also spot-on about The Fabelmans 2. I would truly love to see Spielberg’s struggling years at Universal dramatized — Amblin, directing that Night Gallery episode with Joan Crawford, SS bonding with his “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls” colleagues, filming Duel and then The Sugarland Express.

This would have to be followed, of course, by The Fabelmans 3, which would cover the glory years of ’74 through ’82 — the making of Jaws, Close Encounters, 1941, Raiders of the Lost Ark and E.T..

Steven Spielberg discusses his new film, The Fabelmans, with fellow director Paul Thomas Anderson in a Q&A at the DGA theater in Los Angeles.https://t.co/cVXYZxSizi

— Cinephilia & Beyond (@CCinephilia) November 25, 2022

On the evening of Thursday, March 3rd, the Santa Barbara Film Festival will present an on-stage interview with the five 2022 nominees for the 2022 Best Director Oscar — The Power of the Dog‘s Jane Campion, Drive My Car‘s Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Licorice Pizza‘s Paul Thomas Anderson, Belfast‘s Kenneth Branagh and West Side Story‘s Steven Spielberg.

The Hollywood Reporter‘s Scott Feinberg, always the gentle diplomat, will moderate the group interview on the stage of Santa Barbara’s Arlington Theatre. Here are some suggested questions that Feinberg might want to consider asking….hah!

Spielberg question #1: Leaving aside the Covid diminishment factor, what were your commercial expectations or hopes for West Side Story before it opened? Did you think it might appeal to Millennials and Zoomers and GenXers, or just boomers? Put another way, what led you to remake a famous 1961 musical that everyone’s seen and which won a ton of Oscars 60 years ago? You obviously did a beautiful job of re-energizing the material and all the critics loved it, but younger audiences totally blew it off. Thoughts?

Spielberg question #2: You’ve been working fairly steadily with cinematographer Janusz Kaminski for a quarter century now — The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Saving Private Ryan, A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Minority Report, Catch Me If You Can, The Terminal, War of the Worlds, The Adventures of Tintin, Lincoln, Bridge of Spies, The Post, Ready Player One, West Side Story and the upcoming The Fabelmans. And a majority of these films bear Kaminski’s famous visual trademark — subdued, grayish colors with a milky, semi-hazy lighting scheme. If you could be magically transported back to the ’70s and early ’80s and had the chance to re-shoot your classic films from that era — Duel, Jaws, Close Encounters, Raiders of the Lost Ark, E.T. — would you bring Janusz along so he could give the subdued grayish-milky treatment to those films also?

Campion question: We all know that you’re locked to win the Best Director Oscar. The message has gone out that it’s your time, and that we need another woman to win, and that Netflix will finally have a major Oscar to its credit. And there’s no question that The Power of the Dog is very well made and exquisitely finessed. But these two factors aside, what was it that convinced you that a grim story about a toxic closet case and a belligerent asshole in 1920s Montana…a story of this macho dickhead making life miserable for his brother’s wife and how her gay son has his revenge…what was it about this story that told you “this…this is a story about closeted sexuality that needs to be told…this is a story that 2021 audiences are hungry to see!”

Branagh question: You’ve made a film about the struggles of a Protestant Belfast family during “the troubles”, but without really explaining what the troubles were about or indicating what your personal views are (or were) about the occupation of northern Ireland by British troops, and what the Catholics were fighting for, and whether or not the whole Protestant, anti-Catholic thing had merit or not. Since you didn’t get into it in your film, would you care to discuss it now?

All hail director, special-effects wizard and high-frame-rate advocate Douglas Trumbull, who has passed at age 79. His SFX bona fides include 2001: A Space Odyssey, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, Blade Runner and The Tree of Life; he directed Silent Running and Brainstorm. I remember the 60 fps Showscan process….first saw it in ’83!

“Visit to Trumbull Village,”‘ posted on 8.10.18: “Restoration guru Robert Harris and I spent most of today (Friday, 8.10) visiting the legendary Douglas Trumbull — special-effects designer and innovator (Close Encounters, Blade Runner, Tree of Life), director of Brainstorm and Silent Running, the Thomas A. Edison of knockout movie concepts and visuals — on his sprawling estate in Southfield, Mass.

“The highlight was experiencing (watching sounds too bland) Trumbull’s Magi, a mindblowing digital 3D projection system that delivers images at 120 frames per second and hefty woofer shake under your seat, and which turns you around in a way that feels pretty damn unique.

Douglas Trumbull, Robert Harris outside Magi projection facility.

“Harris picked me up this morning at the new Danbury train station. (The old train station, located 150 feet to the east, is where Robert Walker‘s Bruno Antony disembarked in “Metcalf” in Alfred Hitchcock‘s Strangers on a Train.) We drove up interstate 84, over to Route 8, northwest on 44 and then due north on 272.

“We pulled into Southfield a little after noon. We stopped at the Southfield Store for a rest and a light lunch, and arrived at the huge Trumbull compound (four or five large residences, a “mad genius” workshed, a couple of soundstages, a projection facility, a couple of garages, meadows with grazing donkeys and goats and towering trees all around) at 12:45 pm, give or take.

“The Trumbull compound seemed larger than George Lucas‘s Skywalker Sound facility in northern Marin County. Try 50 acres. It’s homey and at the same time a kind of high-tech village. You need to drive to get from one end to the other.

“Full of energy and sharp as a tack, Trumbull led us over to a “Magi pod” theatre, which seats 60 and uses a large, curved concave screen. He explained that Magi integrates virtual reality and augmented reality (seat rumblings), and that it’s the kind of thing that could re-energize moviegoing in an era of fading cinema attendance.

Boilerplate: Magi captures and projects images in 3D, 4K HD and 120 frames per second. Trumbull has developed a prefabricated “Magi Pod” theater, as most theatres are incapable of delivering the right stuff. Magi Pods can be shipped and assembled in a week. Each seat faces the center of a 36-foot-wide by 17-foot-tall screen. A 32-channel, surround-sound system provides strong, needle-sharp audio. The system produces a picture that’s way more immersive than regular 3D or IMAX.

“Trumbull and a collaborator are writing a script called Lightship. I didn’t grill him on the specifics, but it’s some kind of high-tech, high-dynamic, eyeball-popping hair-raiser. Trumbull intends to direct Lightship with most of the principal photography to be captured in the compound.

“Harris and I pushed on a little after 3 pm, and were both back at our respective homes less than three hours later.