Uncle Phillip Lays Down Liberal Law

A forerunner of North by Northwest, Alfred Hitchcock‘s Saboteur (’42) is about an innocent man (Robert Cummings‘ “Barry Kane”) suspected of arson, espionage and manslaughter, and is on the run from the bulls as he darts from one location to another.

Early on the handcuffed Kane shows up at a mountain cabin occupied by “Phillip Martin” (Vaughan Glaser), a blind but kindly and obviously wise and well educated older fellow. (Phillip’s distant European cousin was the blind, bearded hermit who showed kindness to Boris Karloff‘s Frankenstein monster in The Bride of Frankenstein.)

Phillip’s niece Pat Martin (Priscilla Lane) shows up, spots Kane’s cuffs and concludes he’s the alleged arsonist the cops are after. She takes Phillip aside and warns him about the “dangerous” Kane.

Phillip patiently explains to Pat that his blindness has left him with heightened perceptions, and not just in terms of touch, hearing and a sensitivity to aromas. He knew Kane was wearing handcuffs from the get-go, he tells her, because he could hear their slight clinking, but more importantly he can sense when a person is innocent or good of heart, and he knows without question that Kane is no saboteur.

In fact, several people whom Barry encounters during the first half of Saboteur not only believe in his innocence but help him to elude capture — the mother of a deceased burn victim, a cheerful truck driver, a troupe of circus performers.

Saboteur was shot between December 1941 and February 1942. Roughly two months after finishing principal photography, the big premiere happened in Washington, D.C. on 4.22.42. It opened in New York City’s Radio City Music Hall on 5.8.42. Here’s Bosley Crowther’s review.

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Mildly Embarassing

After two or three days of radio silence about what actually happened to poor Jeremy Renner during that traumatic accident with his Snowcat, Collider’s Ryan O’Rourke has supplied some details.

What happened then? Renner was run over by the trucksized Snowcat, treds and all, blunt force impact upon one of his legs or his chest or something. Possibly, one suspects, because he failed to secure the vehicle with the emergency brake. Or because the Snowcat had been taken possession of by Christine or HAL 9000.

O’Rourke:

Which Line Isn’t From “Julius Caesar”?

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
but in ourselves, that we are underlings.”
(Cassius, Act 1 Scene 2)

“Would that I find myself in hell with my back broken — a gentler fate than that which confronts me presently.” (Antony, Act 1, Scene 3)

“But for mine own part, it was Greek to me.”
(Casca, Act 1 Scene 2)

“Cowards die many times before their deaths,
The valiant never taste of death but once.”
(Caesar, Act 2 Scene 2)

“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.”
(Antony, Act 3 Scene 1)

“All right, ramblers — let’s get ramblin.” (Cassius, Act 2, scene 2)

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Overpraised Volcano Doc

It was announced a few hours ago that Sara Dosa‘s Fire of Love (Neon/National Geographic) has won the North Carolina Film Critics Association award for 2022’s Best Documentary. The same award was handed out last month by the Chicago Film Critics Association. I respect Dosa’s film as far as it went, but it’s not as good as all that. Here’s my 7.13.22 review:

Fire of Love tells the story of devoted (one could say obsessive) volcanologists Katia and Maurice Krafft, who died in a volcanic explosion atop Japan’s Mount Unzen on 6.3.91 — 31 years ago.

“The married couple — French natives, deep soulmates — had been studying, cataloguing, filming and photo-snapping volcanic eruptions since the early ’70s, and were among the most fearless and exacting in their field.

“Dosa’s 93-minute doc is mostly composed of volcano footage (color, 16mm) that the Kraffts shot over the years, and which apparently was only made accessible to Dosa and her producers somewhat recently. The film also contains a fair amount of footage of the Kraffts themselves.

“The dynamic visuals (miles-high clouds of gray ash, thunderous rumbling, pools of intense red-gold lava bubbling over and streaming down mountainsides) are exciting or at least fascinating until they become familiar, at which point you’re left with ‘okay, here are some more lava flows’ and ‘wow, more shots of nuclear blast ash clouds.’

“The problem, for me, is Dosa’s decision to weave it all together with Miranda July‘s whispering, barely enunciated narration. I was on the verge of abandoning the doc because of this aspect. July sounds like a parent quietly reading a Babar the Elephant story to a small child at bedtime.

“The idea, presumably, is to pass along a certain romantic sensibility as well as (I gathered) soft-spoken Katia’s view of volcano worship, marriage, the twists and turns of nature…the whole magilla. But if ever a narration track rubbed me the wrong way, it was this one.
.
“The honest truth is that I found Fire of Love a tad boring at first. If the Kraffts hadn’t been killed there would be no film, just as Werner Herzog‘s Grizzly Man wouldn’t have been a film if Timothy Treadwell hadn’t been eaten by a bear.

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Since Launching HE in August ’04…

WordPress tells me that I’ve written and posted 49,645 items and stories over the last 18 and 1/2 years. 18.5 x 12 = 222 months = 223 posts per month or 7.5 posts per day. This is why I revisit and repost from time to time. Figure half of what I’ve written is better than the other half, so just under 25,000 are possibly worth a revisit or reconsideration. Narrow these down to the real creme de la creme (roughly 20%) and you’re left with 5000 gold-standard riffs, reviews and articles. Well-written articles sometimes spark ideas for fresh takes. Part of the process.

2023 Goodies & Ixnays

Identifying the top ten films of 2023 is fairly easy. I’ve assigned a certain random order, but the directors (in the same order) are Ridley Scott, Alexander Payne, Martin Scorsese, Bradley Cooper, Chris McQuarrie, Chris “infuriating sound mix” Nolan, Luca Guadagnino, David Fincher, Ari Aster and Roman Polanski.

The most likely Best Picture winners (Oscar to be handed out in March of ’24) are obviously Napoleon, Killers of the Flower Moon, The Holdovers, Oppenheimer and Maestro.

What am I missing at far as the likely creme de la creme are concerned? I’ve listed 51 films here — there are several I’ve ignored. A little more comprehensiion is required.

Utterly Safe Bets (10)

Napoleon (Apple, undated)
The Holdovers (Focus, undated)
Killers of the Flower Moon (Apple/Paramount)
Maestro (Netflix, undatedf)
Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One (July 14)
Oppenheimer (July 21)
Challengers (August 11)
The Killer (Fincher/Netflix, undated)
Beau Is Afraid (A24)
The Palace (Roman Polanski)

Respectable Sounding (6)

Megalopolis (if it opens in ’23…who knows?)
Steve McQueen’s Blitz
Asteroid City (Wes Anderson)
Poor Things
How Do You Live?
May / December (Todd Haynes)

Decent Potential (3)

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (June 30)
Barbie (July 21)
The Zone of Interest

Possibles but Cuidado (8)

Magic Mike’s Last Dance (Feb. 10)
Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania (Feb. 17)
Chevalier (Apr. 7)
Renfield (Apr. 14)
No Hard Feelings (June 23)
The Flash (June 23)
Next Goal Wins (Sept. 22)
Dune: Part Two (Nov. 3)

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Hairdressing by Karen Asano-Myers, Roxane Griffin

“Four aging pallie-wallies (played by Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, Rita Moreno and Sally Field) travel to Houston to watch their hero Tom Brady and the New England Patriots play in the 2017 Super Bowl.”

It’s important to understand that 80 for Brady (Paramount, 2.3) was produced by Brady, and that he also costars in it.

Pic was shot by the great (and in this instance slumming) John Toll (Almost Famous, Tropic Thunder, Braveheart, The Thin Red Line, The Last Samurai, Legends of the Fall).

Remember Rod Tidwell?

There was only one acceptable reaction to the traumatic, life-threatening injury suffered last night by Damar Hamlin. Everything had to stop in terms of the game. Football and “the game must go on” stopped mattering. Anyone who so much as mentioned the concurrent question of whether the game would be replayed or forgotten about was all but beaten senseless by Twitter gorillas. The biggest such episode was triggered by a single tweet by veteran sportscaster Skip Bayless). It was unanimously suggested that Bayless needed to be cancelled, stomped upon, drawn and quartered, tarred and feathered, etc.

Hamlin is reportedly okay or at least stable, but when things appeared to be touch and go, his Buffalo Bill teammates were visibly distraught. I saw some weeping. Except — hello? — this mishap was a result of the normal playing of a football game. Football is intended to be the most violent professional sport of all, a game that routinely calls for brutal tackling, bruising, body-slamming. Players occasionally get hurt or even knocked unconscious, and nobody bats an eye when they do.

Hamlin suffered a cardiac arrest (it was a freak occurence) and was a heartbeat or two away from death, and was saved on the field by fast-acting medics. Thank God he survived, but the expectation of violence and the threat of serious injury…well, isn’t that partly why people pay to see football games?

Remember that climactic scene in Jerry Maguire when Cuba Gooding, Jr.‘s Rod Tidwell was knocked unconscious during a Monday Night Football game between the Cardinals and the Dallas Cowboys? Everyone was extremely anxious and concerned for Rod, and thank God he came to. But what if he hadn’t recovered and had slipped into some kind of coma? Would the game have been forgotten about out of respect for poor Rod and his wife and kids? Put it this way: If you were the screenwriter and Rod slipping into a coma was an irreversible plot point, would you have cancelled the game out of compassion for the poor guy? I honestly don’t think that would or could have happened in the world of 1996 and Jerry Maguire.

Hamlin’s physical survival is obviously the most important issue, but at the same time no one is allowed to even mention other aspects of this situation…no other considerations. Last night’s Twitter mood was unmistakable. If you stepped out of line and talked about anything else besides the paramount issue of Hamlin’s health, you were vermin and deserved to die.

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No Way, Sneider!

I’m okay with Los Angeles magazine’s Jeff Sneider calling Bros the third best ’22 flick of the year (it was #29 on my own list). But he’s not allowed to put My Policeman in second place, or right after his #1 pick, Top Gun: Maverick. He can’t do that! My Policeman occasionally really blows, and yes, I’m aware of the redundancy.

[Posted on 10.29.22] “My Policeman (Amazon Prime, 11.4) is a tepid and morose gay tragedy, set in late 1950s England. And Harry Styles‘ rote performance as Tom Burgess, a sexually repressed gay policeman, is not a burnisher. Ditto David Dawson‘s as Patrick Hazlewood, a museum curator who becomes Tom’s lover and a rival for his affections in the matter of Emma Corrin‘s prim and proper Marion, who Tom marries because he needs a beard, which is a shitty thing to do.

“But Marion evens the score down the road. Shittily, I mean.

“Give Styles credit for bravely and energetically committing to some fairly graphic sex scenes with Hazlewood (kiss-slurping, panting, blowing, ass-fucking) but as I said in an earlier post, Styles is hot but Hazlewood isn’t, or at least not hot enough for me.

“There are some pretty guys whom straight guys can at least imagine having some kind of vague intimate contact with. Mick Jagger in Performance was one. In True Romance Christian Slater‘s Clarence Worley says that he could’ve fucked the young Elvis Presley. But one look at Hazlewood and I went “nope.” Cold eyes, dorky haircut, emotionally needy and greedy.

“I had a good laugh, however, when Dawson/Hazlewood hooks up with some anonymous guy and they decide to get down in an alleyway. They’re busted by a pair of bobbies before anything happens, but just before Dawson is about to drop to his knees the recipient drops a magazine on the damp pavement so Dawson won’t chafe his knees and his trousers won’t get wet. Thoughtful.

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