I believe in forgiveness and offering second chances, but a lot of industry people reportedly don’t feel that way about director Randall Miller, whose apparent negligence and/or recklessness while shooting Midnight Rider on February 20th led to the train-trestle death of Sarah Elizabeth Jones. After dragging ass for too many months, prosecutors in Georgia’s Wayne County yesterday charged Miller, his producer wife Jody Savin and unit production manager Jay Sedrish with involuntary manslaughter and criminal trespass. They’re all looking at prison time above and beyond what they’re facing in civil court, including a wrongful-death lawsuit filed by Jones’ parents. I’m sure the defendants will mount a vigorous defense but the best thing for Miller and Savin, image- and industry-wise, is to cut a deal with prosecutors in which they’ll do time for a year or so. Then the yoke will be lifted and they’ll be looking at a clean slate. People will feel sympathy (“Who hasn’t made a mistake or two?”) and give them another shot. Robert Mitchum was in a dicey career position when he was busted for pot in 1948, but his image was almost enhanced after he manned up and did 48 days in a minimum-security facility. Bonus: Miller and Savin could then make a documentary or even a feature about the Midnight Rider tragedy as a way of atoning and offering tribute to Jones.
Fucking HMO Bastard Pieces of Shit
I was already sorry about the passing of Harold Ramis last February. I didn’t need any help in that regard. But after watching this just now I’m a little more sorry. Sorry. I know this scene is just a calculated James L. Brooks massage but it gets me anyway. I didn’t know Ramis at all (spoke to him maybe two or three times) but the gentle vibe was real.
The Wild Boxy One
Aspect-ratio scholar Bob Furmanek, the man most responsible for persuading distributors to cleaver various 1950s films on Bluray over the last four or five years, explained today why a 1.37:1 aspect ratio is correct for Laslo Benedek‘s The Wild One (12.30.53). “When determining whether or not a film was composed for widescreen,” Furmanek reminded, “the dates of production must be determined.” The Marlon Brando motorcycle drama was filmed between 2.12.53 to 3.17.53, or a little before Columbia’s 1.85 mandate went into effect in March/April of that year. A high-def 1.37 version is viewable on Vudu, and a new 1.37 German Bluray has been reviewed on DVD Beaver.
Return of Snarly Softie
Last night and for no particular reason I re-watched Peter Bogdanovich‘s Directed by John Ford, which came out on DVD in ’09. It’s a valentine, a journey, a meditation. Eight years ago I did a phoner with Bogdanovich about the doc. I gave it a fresh listen this morning, and I was moderately impressed. It’s a reasonably decent discussion as these things tend to go.
Here’s a portion of the 11.6.06 article that contained the mp3: “I’ve tried and it’s impossible — there’s no feeling just one way about John Ford. His movies have been wowing and infuriating me all my life, and after seeing Peter Bogdanovich‘s Directed by John Ford — an expanded, unexpectedly touching documentary about the legendary helmer that will show twice on Turner Classic Movies Tuesday evening — the muddle is still there.
Thomson Endurance Scale
The sixth edition of David Thomson‘s New Biographical Dictionary of Film arrived yesterday on my doorstep. I’ll now regard it as the Marilyn Monroe version. It’s the best all-time reference book about films in the world. It simply has to be on one’s living-room bookshelf or at least on your iPad or Kindle…no arguments. I’ve owned every edition since…when did it begin, the mid ’80s? The book never loses its pungency. I can pick it up any old time and get lost in seconds flat. Some of Thomson’s appraisals are more than brilliant — I could go on for hours but try “bitter”, “hilarious”, “cruel”, “pithy”, “devastating”, “delicious”, “serene”, etc. I know I’m supposed to acknowledge the new arrivals and the new focus on cable stars (Gandolfini, Cranston), etc. Read the following excerpts from Thomson’s profiles of Fred MacMurray and Madonna after the jump. If they don’t persuade, you’ll never be persuaded.
Yellow Bikini
I don’t know who “Soapbxprod” is but some time ago he/she posted (a) color footage taken by Roddy McDowall of a 1965 Labor Day gathering at Rock Hudson‘s Malibu home (Jane Fonda, Julie Andrews, etc.) and (b) fascinating silent footage of the shooting of From Here to Eternity [after jump] at Oahu’s Scofield Barracks in late ’52 or early ’53 — Fred Zinneman, Burt Lancaster, Frank Sinatra, Deborah Kerr. “Found in National Archives, lost and forgotten…original 16mm was telecined to Digital Betacam in 1998, a U-Matic dub with visible time code was made for editing,” etc.
Not Love Of Power But The Other Thing
Last September I saw half of John Ridley‘s Jimi — All Is By My Side at the Toronto Film Festival and was immediately impressed. I finally saw all of it at last month’s Los Angeles Film Festival. I was convinced all the more that Andre Benjamin‘s performance as the late Jimi Hendrix is one of the year’s stand-outs. The role is more about layers than revelations. The film doesn’t deliver conventional dramatic moments as much as a low-key immersion into a guy who lived deep within his soul but wildly and exuberantly transformed when he performed. Benjamin (i.e., Andrew 3000) totally captures Hendrix’s manner, vibe, voice…that gentleness, that ambivalent but spiritually directed mood-trip thing. XLrator Media will be releasing Jimi: All Is By My Side theatrically on 9.26.14.
Zamperini’s Brave Life and What It Amounted To
Condolences to the family and friends of the late Louis Zamperini, the former Olympic athlete and World War II survivor of a Pacific Ocean plane crash and Japanese prisoner-of-war camp who went to become an inspirational speaker and lived to the ripe old age of 97. Ditto his legions of admirers. Zamperini passed yesterday in Los Angeles. Sorry. Hats off.
Zamperini’s life was turned into a book by Laura Hillenbrand and then adapted into a forthcoming Oscar-bait film, Unbroken (Universal, 12.25), by director Angelina Jolie and screenwriters Joel and Ethan Coen, Richard LaGravenese and William Nicholson. Jack O’Connell (whom I admired in ’71 after catching it at the Berlinale last February) portrays Zamperini in the film.
All along the word about Jolie’s Unbroken has been that it’s not so much another survival-at-sea film (a la Life of Pi and All Is Lost) as an inspirational piece about a man’s indomitable spirit. I haven’t read any of the drafts, much less Hillenbrand’s book, but the film may contain a thematic undercurrent that I haven’t paid attention to until now.
Taking Shape
We’ve been assuming all along that Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu‘s Birdman would debut stateside at Telluride but now I’ve heard it really is happening — no ifs, ands or maybes. Another confirmed Telluride “get “, I’m hearing, is Werner Herzog‘s Queen of the Desert, a dramatic biopic about “British traveller, writer, archaeologist, explorer, cartographer and political officer” Gertrude Bell (Nicole Kidman).
There’s also convincing chatter about Paul Thomas Anderson‘s Inherent Vice, David Fincher‘s Gone Girl and Chris Nolan‘s Interstellar debuting at the New York Film Festival, although the most recent buzz says that Interstellar could play Telluride first. But the other two are thought to be NYFF exclusives.
Tragedy of One-Eyed Jacks
I wasn’t paying attention when the celebrated One-Eyed Jacks, the only film Marlon Brando ever directed, played at the New Beverly on April 2nd and 3rd. What was I thinking? I blew a chance to see an allegedly first-rate 35mm print (provided by Quentin Tarantino), which was a rare opportunity indeed. There’s no way to see a decent version of this 1961 VistaVision-shot western as the rights fell into public domain a few years ago and the market has since been flooded with abysmal-looking DVDs. Paramount has the elements in a vault but they’ll almost certainly never pay for a restoration effort, which would probably cost between $90K and $100K all in.
Let’s face it — I’m never again going to see this film in any kind of decent shape (vibrant VistaVision color, crisp focus, 1.66 or 1.85 aspect ratio) unless I attend a theatrical showing here or at MOMA or someplace like that. The chances of a handsome-looking DVD or Bluray being created are probably close to non-existent. Jacks is dead and gone unless Paramount decides to license it to a company that will to spend the money to assemble a first-rate remastering. In a pig’s eye!
The only way to bask in this landmark film right now is to beg Tarantino to offer his print for a special Hollywood Elsewhere theatre or screening-room showing. Maybe at the New Beverly or Cinefamily or Aidikoff or the Wilshire Screening Room. I’ll cough up for the rental fees. How about it, Quentin? For the sake of solemn Brando worship?