Yesterday I stumbled across a shot of Deborah Kerr and Donna Reed performing the final scene from Fred Zinneman‘s From Here To Eternity (’53). On a ship departing Honolulu by way of a sound stage. No one is more queer for behind-the-scenes snaps of this 1953 classic than myself, be they color or black-and-white. So I went hunting for all the decent ones I’ve ever seen or previously posted, and here they are. (The sixth from the top was taken by yours truly during the May 2001 Pearl Harbor junket.)
The bright blue sky, rich sandy soil and mostly smog-free vistas remind me of similar capturings in the third act of John Boorman‘s Point Blank. When Lee Marvin and Angie Dickinson meet at the wood-stained hilltop pad owned by Brewster (Carroll O’Connor), the same kind of views lie in the distance. Snapped early this afternoon.
It’s been 30 years since I saw Paul Schrader‘s The Comfort of Strangers (’90), and mostly I remember the tantalizing erotic tease and the spooky Venice atmosphere, and of course Christopher Walken‘s dry and deflecting perversity, a quality that he brings to pretty much every role. But I don’t remember what happens in the second half except that Rupert Everett and Natasha Richardson get more and more entangled in a spider’s web spun by Walken and Helen Mirren. Honestly — my memory is a blank.
I do remember feeling disappointed that a script by Harold Pinter (based on an Ian McEwan short story) didn’t amount to more. It didn’t really pay off, or so I (don’t) recall.
Criterion will release a Strangers Bluray — a “restored 4K digital transfer, supervised by cinematographer Dante Spinotti” — on 8.18.20.
The silky, unctuous tone used by the narrator of this trailer just about ruins the whole thing:
And what an impressive cast for a piece of shit — Anne Bancroft, Raymond Burr, Cameron Mitchell, Lee J. Cobb (who also shot On The Waterfont the same year), Lee Marvin. And a score by Lionel Newman. But what a lame ending — they distract the gorilla with fireworks and then the cops shoot him three or four times, and then he “falls” to the ground.
George Barrows (1914 – 1994) played the titular character. He wore gorilla suits in many films, but “Goliath the gorilla” was his most famous outing. Barrows played his first gorilla in Tarzan and His Mate (’34); his last was playing Monstro the Gorilla in AIP’s The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini (’66). Barrows’ gorilla suit, which he built himself, is currently in the collection of the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County.
I’d love to hit the local drive-in for a showing of Unhinged, Russell Crowe‘s road-rage drama, when it opens on 7.1. But the only half-operating drive-ins in Los Angeles are in the godforsaken burghs of Paramount and Industry. That’s called “a bridge too far.” There isn’t a single drive-in in the entire San Fernando Valley. How about showing Unhinged at the Hollywood Forever cemetery?
Elley excerpt #1: “The legend of Lars Von Trier — part deserved, part self-constructed — comes crashing to the ground with Dancer in the Dark, a 2 1/2-hour demo of auteurist self-importance that’s artistically bankrupt on almost every level.” Elley excerpt #2: “An attempt to feed off the heritage of the traditional Hollywood musical while reinterpreting it for a young, modern audience through the prism of Von Trier’s romantic fatalism.”
HE reply: Besides being emotionally ravishing and technically innovative, Dancer in the Dark is one of the very few form-altering musicals of the last 90 years.
For decades the basic premise of stage & screen musicals was a given — at various moments the characters are so seized with urgent, slap-happy emotion that they break into song. Songs were spirit-lifters, time-out celebrations.
Then came Oklahoma! on the B’way stage in ‘43 — song lyrics and dance or ballet moves were now integrated parts of the narrative, expressions of what characters were going through internally.
Then along came the 1964 musical playbook of A Hard Day’s Night — songs happen among members of a certain British rock band when whimsy or fantasy strike, or when it’s simply time to perform.
And then Cabaret (‘72) — songs not so much about this or that character’s emotional state but which offer ironic or bitter commentary about what an entire culture is going through, and only expressed on-stage in the Kit Kat Club (except for “Tomorrow Belongs To Me”).
And then Dennis Potter‘s 1978 TV drama Pennies From Heaven (followed by Herbert Ross‘s 1981 feature remake), in which Depression-era characters lip-synched popular ’30s tunes as a means of fantasy-escaping from poverty and cruel fates.
Then came Dancer In The Dark (‘00) — a woman is so unable to handle the pain, cruelty and rough & tumble of life that she retreats into song and dance fantasies — without them she can’t continue, can’t cope. And of course this sad but inwardly joyous failing, this neurotic avoidance syndrome leads to tragedy.
How Derek Elley managed to not only miss but dismiss and deplore this simple transcendent concept (not to mention Von Trier’s revolutionary technique of capturing these musical sequences with several strategically mounted vidcams) was, for me, mind-blowing.
It was this review that reminded me all the more that effete, scholarly film dweebs are often (or at the very least sometimes) indifferent or hostile to strongly conveyed, take-it-or-leave-it emotion.
Former N.Y. Daily News film critic and GoldDerby prognosticator Jack Mathews has died. Gold Derby‘s Tom O’Neillreports that he passed last night from pancreatic cancer, which Mathews only learned about a week ago.
Jack (whose last name is spelled with one “t”) began his career as a regular reporter for the Detroit Free-Press in the ’60s, and then moved into the movie realm, eventually becoming an interviewer, columnist and critic with the LA Times, Newsday, USA Today and the NY Daily News. He retired in ’08.
In a 2.12.08 interview with Jen Yamato, Matthews said that his favorite films were “My Darling Clementine, Some Like it Hot, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jaws, Casablanca, The Deer Hunter, Singin’ in the Rain, The Godfather I and II…if I have to pick just one: Some Like it Hot.”
He said that the worst movies he’d ever seen, “considering its level of pandering manipulation,” was TheColorPurple (yes!), and that the ’80s had been the worst decade for filmgoing.
Asked whether critics are in touch with the hoi polloi, Mathews said that “most of us know what the public likes but we generally don’t like what they like. So, if being in touch means sharing their tastes, we’re definitely out of touch.”
Yamato asked Mathews who his favorite film critics/bloggers/entertainment journalists were. Answer: Critics: Tony Scott (NY Times), David Denby (New Yorker), Todd McCarthy (Variety). Bloggers: David Poland, Jeffrey Wells, Lou Lumenick, Stu Van Airsdale. Entertainment journalists: Anne Thompson (Variety), Michael Cieply (NY Times).
Thanks, Jack. Knowing you somewhat was an honor and a pleasure.
First in a series of Cannes Film Festival memories, posted at random: 20 years ago the first-anywhere screening of Lars von Trier‘s Dancer in the Dark happened in the Grand Lumiere. The date was 5.17.00. I was sitting in the balcony. The lights went down about halfway, and Bjork’s overture began to play. The music and the moment — I knew something exceptional was about to happen. I could feel it.
I saw Dancer two or three times in the States a few months later, but the overture was either ignored or the effect wasn’t the same. You had to be there. I’ll never forget that feeling, that vibe, that premonition. A slight lump in my throat. Honestly? I just choked up as I listened for the second time.
For years I dearly loved the ending of Killing Them Softly: “This guy wants to tell me we’re living in a community? Don’t make me laugh. I’m living in America, and in America you’re on your own. America’s not a country — it’s a business. Now fuckin’ pay me.”
But I began to feel differently when the feds and the state of California coughed up some dough to help me out. I’m sorry but I was affected by this, and almost moved.
If I was the actual Jeff Goldblum as opposed to the doppelganger in this Richmond street fight, I would be on the phone to my agent right now.
“Whatever the next role is,” I would say, “the producers have to agree to include a scene in which my character gets into an argument with some bare-chested asshole and does exactly this when push comes to shove.
“I don’t care if it’s a Wes Anderson film or Jurassic Park VII or whatever…we have to build on the lore of this thing. It’s trending all over and I need to be this guy. Kids all over the world are going ‘whoo-whoo!’…this kind of thing happens very rarely.”
Agent to Goldblum: “Wait…you could be the next Liam ‘Paycheck’ Neeson!”
I don’t turn on but Tatyana does, and so a couple of days ago I brought home three store-bought joints. Three flavors, horn-shaped, about $15 bills each. Plus a tin of cannabis-infused gummies.
She began with the strawberry-flavored one, and the aroma was wonderful. It smelled so good I was almost tempted, but I can’t. But what a business, what a brand, what a profit margin. When I was spry and bushy-tailed an ounce would run $20, and if you were busted for dealing bricks you could do serious time.
I was always somewhat attracted to the idea of buying this or that Twilight Time Bluray, but I rarely did because they charged too much. Their brand exuded a touch of class but they weren’t Criterion — they never did the heavy restoration lifting. (On the other hand their color Blurays were never teal-tinted.) I want my Blurays to cost $20 bills or thereabouts, and Twilight Time always charged closer to $30 and sometimes higher.
And now they’ve gone belly-up. I’m sorry — I don’t like to see any outfit devoted to distributing HD cinema go under. Then again on 5.11 (tomorrow) I’ll be able to buy some of their titles at bargain basement prices.
Posted today (5.10) by Twilight Time management: “After nine years of successful operations in which 380 motion pictures from the 1930s to the 2010s have been released on DVD and Bluray disc, the home video label Twilight Time — founded by veteran Hollywood studio executives and filmmakers Brian Jamieson and the late, dearly celebrated Nick Redman — will not release any further titles and we will be winding down operations this summer. A changing market, the rising costs of title acquisitions and Redman’s passing are key reasons for the closure.
“As part of our winding-down process, there will be a one-time reduction in prices to $3.95, $4.45, $6.95 and $11.95 as of Monday, May 11th at www.TwilightTimeMovies.com.
“Cinemagistics/TwilightTimeMovies.com will continue to sell titles while available through June 30th, at which time they and Twilight Time will cease operations. Remaining inventory will be acquired and distributed exclusively by Screen Archives — effective July 1st 2020.”
