I didn’t mention this in early May, but the one thing that really leaps put from the Terminator 2 3D trailer is when Arnold puts on the Raybans around the 23-second mark. It’s obviously a 2D capturing of 3D, but it makes you go “aaah.” I’ve mentioned this before but Cameron’s 3D-ing of Titanic“>extremely subtle approach to the 3D conversion of Titanic leads me to presume that T2 will deliver the same. em>Titanic was such an aesthetically subtle thing that after the first 20 or 30 minutes I forgot I was watching 3D — I just sank into the film itself. I had the same reaction four years ago after seeing the 3D conversion of The Wizard of Oz: “The conversion was very nicely done, I felt — tasteful, subtle, in no way bothersome. So subtle, in fact, that after a while I kind of forgot that I was watching 3D. The photoscopic process starts to take a back seat to the content of the film. You get used to it and then you forget about it.” Distrib Films will put Terminator 2 3D into theatres on Friday, 8.25.
What female villains have you completely believed in, and why? I could go on and on about my faves, but the key element is that you believed they weren’t just “playing” villainy but living in caves of their own choosing or creation.
In no particular order: Barbara Stanwyck‘s Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity, Meryl Streep‘s Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, Jane Greer‘s Kathy Moffet in Out of the Past, Margaret Hamilton‘s Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz, Kathy Bates‘ Annie Wilkes in Misery, Louise Fletcher‘s Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, Sharon Stone‘s Catherine Trammell in Basic Instinct, Bette Davis‘s Baby Jane Hudson in Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?, etc.
I didn’t believe in Margot Robbie‘s Harley Quinn (Suicide Squad) at all. Her performance was all about extreme-playdough mannerisms, posturing, makeup and wardrobe. All I believed was that Robbie had been hired because she’s hot.
I’ll tell you who I believed in 110% — Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. The capsule definition of Alex Forrest was that of a manic, lion-haired feminist banshee who tried to leverage a single night of mad, passionate sex with Michael Douglas into a knife or a bomb that would detonate his marriage. But I didn’t really believe in that — that’s what the research-screening audiences saw. What I believed in was Alex’s instability and emotional desperation, and that made her scary. The scariest thing she said was “I won’t be ignored, Dan!”
Hollywood Elsewhere has just contributed $100 to a Vidiots Indiegogo campaign to raise $65K. They need to move things into the 21st Century or words to that effect. Vidiots is basically a place to rent VHS films that haven’t made it to Bluray or streaming. I haven’t owned a VCR player for 15 years and I’m still vaguely irked at Vidiots for telling me I owed them $125 after I returned a lost-and-then-found VHS of The Wizard of Oz back in ’90. The total value of the VHS was maybe $75 — I refused to pay anything more than that. The Vidiots clerk insisted on the higher figure so I told him forget it and refused to pay them anything. I’ve contributed $100 because for all their obstinacy, Vidiots is a store with heart and spirit, and because its existence enhances the cultural character of Santa Monica.
Like many others I’ve been inspired by that much-derided BBC list of the 100 Greatest American Films to assemble my own roster. Except I can’t pare it down to 100 — the best I can do is 160, and even with this number I’ve had to cut dozens and dozens. It’s not a fun thing to do because over and over again you’re saying “no, no, naaah, hasn’t aged well, no longer, naaah, don’t think so.” And every one of the films that’s been “naahed” was pretty good if not great to start with. On its own terms, I mean.
I’ve broken my list into groups of ten. There are several great films I’ve left out because I’ve never liked watching them very much so there. If a film bothers me on some level, it gets tossed — I don’t care how “great” everyone else says it is. I’m not saying there aren’t 200 or 300 more films that could easily be on someone else’s list. I’m saying these are my choices, and it wasn’t easy.
The most daunting part was choosing The Best American Film Of All Time, which it not a rock or a boulder but a dream, a passing fancy, a thought bubble in the mind of God. Or whatever…a film that expresses something vital and enduring about the American experience or character or attitude. But that sounds pretentious and tedious. Every and every greatest film choice on this list is a keeper, but the very best is…oh, the hell with it. I’m choosing The Treasure of The Sierra Madre (’48) but tomorrow I might select Dr. Strangelove or Zero Dark Thirty or 12 Angry Men or Tender Mercies. No guarantees, nothing rock solid. The top tier of any list is always debatable.
The definition of an “American” film is one principally funded by an American company.
HE’s Top Ten Greatest American Films: (1) The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, (2) Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, (3 & 4) The Godfather & The Godfather, Part II (5) The Graduate, (6) Election, (7) Zodiac, (8) Rushmore, (9) Pulp Fiction, (10) Some Like It Hot.
Greatest American Films (11 to 20): (11) North By Northwest, (12) Notorious, (13) On The Waterfront, (14) Groundhog Day, (15) Goodfellas, (16) Out Of The Past, (17) Paths of Glory, (18) Psycho, (19) RagingBull, (20) 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Greatest American Films (21 to 30): (21) Annie Hall, (22) Apocalypse Now, (23) Strangers on a Train, (24) East of Eden, (25) Bringing Up Baby, (26) The African Queen, (27) All About Eve, (28) The Wizard of Oz, (29) Zero Dark Thirty, (30) Only Angels Have Wings.
Greatest American Films (31 to 40): (31) Repo Man, (32) Heat, (33) Red River, (34) Drums Along the Mohawk, (35) Gone With The Wind, (36) Rebel Without a Cause, (37) Ben-Hur (38) The Best Years of Our Lives, (39) The Big Sleep, (40) Shane.
Greatest American Films (41 to 50): (41) Rear Window, (42) Bonnie And Clyde, (43) The Bridge On The River Kwai, (44) Casablanca, (45) Chinatown, (46) Citizen Kane (47) Marnie…kidding! I really mean Duck Soup, (48) King Kong, (49) 12 Angry Men (50) The Informer.
Three days ago BBC Culture posted the results of a poll of 62 international film critics who’d been asked to name the 100 Greatest American Films of all time. The BBC’s description of this group (a) doesn’t mention online voices and (b) explains that “some of the critics we invited to participate are film reviewers at newspapers or magazines, others are broadcasters and some write books.” Esteemed, knowledgable fuddy-duds, in other words. Scholastically correct fashionistas and a smattering of old-schoolers who know their stuff but — important trait to keep in mind — are also careful to limit their favorites to films that are currently approved of by the fine and fanciful “they.”
The BBC could have mentioned that this group, not atypically, is basically bending and blowing with the current cultural winds. Hence Gone With The Wind has barely made the cut at #$97 (a satisfying moment for GWTW basher Lou Lumenick) and — this pisses me off — Rio Bravo is listed at #41 but no High Noon at all. And Marnie at #47? Mainly because a small, tightly-knit fraternity of hardcore Marnie dweebs (Richard Brody, Glenn Kenny, Dave Kehr, et. al.) have been beating the drum for years. Last April I voiced strong disgreement with the Marnie cult and yet here it is, sitting on a Greatest American Films list…my spirit wilts. And where’s One-Eyed Jacks? And where’s Shane?
Scott Feinberg’s blunt-spoken Academy member from the publicist branch says the following about Birdman: “[It’s] a weird, quirky movie that Fox Searchlight did a really good job of selling. I never thought that it would make it all the way to the finish line like it has, but then I remember that it’s about a tortured actor, and when you think about who is doing the voting, at SAG and the Academy, it’s a lot of other tortured actors. I just don’t know how much it’s resonating out in the world. I mean, American Sniper made more in its third weekend in wide release than Birdman has made in its entirety.”
The long-adored Bringing Up Baby was not an out-and-out flop in 1938, but it sure as hell wasn’t a hit either. Joe and Jane Popcorn pretty much shrugged it to death.
Wells response: In other words, Joe and Jane Popcorn related more to the “veteran kicks ass in the Middle East but pays the emotional price when he returns to the heartland” narrative than the big-city tale about a neurotic actor trying to get beyond a ’90s superhero identity by redefining himself with a Raymond Carver play. Okay, understood. But Joe and Jane Popcorn caring less about Birdman and more about American Sniper doesn’t mean squat in the long run. Joe and Jane have never been and never will be at the forefront of perception and recognizing the finest and most lasting creations…ever. They like popular entertainments. When it comes to recognizing and celebrating films are up to something new and provocative, Joe and Jane are always lagging and more often than not at the rear of the herd.
I absolutely agree that video stores, which are all but dead these days, improve a neighborhood’s atmosphere. An organic video store is as beneficial to an urban culture as an opera house, a nursery school, a storied cafe or hardware store. And so Annapurna producer Megan Ellison has therefore done a wonderful thing in helping to save Vidiots, the Pico Blvd. video store that’s been running since the mid ’80s. It was announced yesterday that Ellison has come to the assistance of co-owner Cathy Tauber, who had announced that Vidiots would close in April. That aside, I’ve had an attitude about Vidiots since something that happened in the late ’80s or early ’90s. I had rented a VHS of The Wizard of Oz and then lost the tape. Vidiots had sent me notices but I could’t find it. When it finally turned up weeks later they said I needed to pay them almost $200 in back rental fees. I thought it would be fair to charge me for the cost of the tape itself, which back then was in the neighborhood of $75 bills. (Less?) But no way was I going to pay them $190-something dollars. So we parted company and that was that. I’ve wandered into Vidiots five or six times since, but the vibe always seemed stuck in the ’80s with all those VHS tapes sitting on those highly-stacked shelves. The #1 rule applying to each and every business: “Adapt or die.”
Interstellar is one of those big, rib-rattling, epic-sprawl movies that you only get from determined, well-funded visionaries like…well, like Chris Nolan. And this, make no mistake, is a super-charged time-travel flick that is also very personal. It’s basically about Nolan saying “there’s no place like home, like family, like love”…probably due to a suspicion that he works too obsessively and is missing out on his children’s lives or something along those lines. Sounds like The Wizard of Oz in Space, right? Without the jokes and the songs and the fancifulness, of course. And without, I regret to say, any way to believe in other-wordly realms. Interstellar is quite the wowser throttle ride — you have to see it, of course — but for me it didn’t hang together in a way that felt right or rooted or satisfying. It “played” but it didn’t sink in.
Interstellar is basically a grim story about love, loss, heroism…a down-the-rabbit-hole tale about seeking and adventuring and returning, Odysseus-style. It’s riveting at times. Now and then it’s breathtaking. And at times it is speechy and banal. At times it’s one of those “wait..give me that again?” movies. I just didn’t believe or understand a lot of it. And it has one scene that, no lie, is comically awful. Beware the killer colonist who once dropped in on Che Guevara!
That was my reaction, for the most part. I was “impressed” by it as far as the chops and the eye-filling scenery, both local and cosmic, were concerned and I generally liked the rumble-in-space stuff, but I couldn’t buy into it, man…not really. (Does this mean I’ll lose out on Paramount award-season ads? I’m weeping over this but I gotta be me.) But a friend tells me that Emile Hirsch and Chris Rock and Adrien Brody and a lot of other celebrities who saw it last Wednesday night were really blown away so…you know, don’t let me stop you. (Rock told my friend that he “doesn’t think any film can possibly match it.”) It’ll be Best Picture nominated, I suppose, because the community wants to kiss Nolan’s ass for the same reason it has smooched Spielberg’s ass for the last 39 years. And it’ll probably win two or three tech Oscars. And it’ll make loads of money.
For many years I’ve been lamenting the “CinemaScope mumps” distortion syndrome, or that face-broadening, weight-adding effect that resulted from the use of anamorphic CinemaScope lenses from ’53 through ’60. It would be heaven if someone could figure a way to horizontally compress these films so that the unnaturally widened effect would look right. Every mumped-up movie gives you a fundamental feeling of being cheated out of God’s natural proportions. I’m therefore interested in Criterion’s recently-announced Bluray of Jack Clayton‘s The Innocents (9.23.14), which has always been mumps-afflicted since its initial release in 1961 and has definitely looked this way on home video presentations.
And yet, as the Disney guys reportedly showed three years ago in their restoration of Richard Fleischer‘s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, fixing the “mumps” distortion is technologically achievable. A Criterion summary of the contents of the Innocents Bluray mentions a “new interview with cinematographer John Bailey on director of photography Freddie Francis and the look of the film,” but there’s no mention of any “mumps” correction. I’m presuming that a decision was made to keep the mumps, but maybe not.
I’ve seen and reviewed four of the 18 films that opened two days ago — Rush (positive as far as it goes), Prisoners (mixed positive), Haute Cuisine (positive) and The Wizard of Oz 3D (mostly positive). I walked into a Toronto Film Festival screening of The Art of The Steal and walked right out again 20 to 25 minutes later because it seemed too genre-ish. I haven’t seen A Single Shot, After Tiller, Battle of the Year 3D, C.O.G., The Colony, Generation Iron, IP Man: The Final Fight, Jerusalem, My Lucky Star, Plus One, The Short Game, Thanks for Sharing and Zaytoun. This is the way of the movie world these days. I should have seen one of two more openers, I suppose, but a one-man band can’t keep up and write this kind of column (six or seven stories per day).
I saw an IMAX 3D version of Victor Fleming‘s The Wizard of Oz at 10 am this morning at Leows’ Kips Bay. The screen was fairly small so I wouldn’t call it a genuine IMAX presentation, but the 3D was real enough. I have to be honest and say that while it felt interesting to watch this 1939 classic in 3D, the experience didn’t floor me. The conversion was very nicely done, I felt — tasteful, subtle, unintrusive. So subtle, in fact, that after a while I kind of forgot that I was watching 3D. The same thing happened when I watched the 3D-converted Titanic. The 3D process just starts to take a back seat to the content of the film. You get used to it and then you start to forget about it.
The about-to-happen screening I’m most interested in catching is the IMAX 3D version of Victor Fleming‘s The Wizard Of Oz, which is showing on Sunday morning at 10 am in Manhattan. I’m naturally presuming that the Warner Bros. technicians made extra-double-sure that this 1939 classic was converted with the utmost care and exactitude. This will be the first time in my life seeing a major-studio golden-age film from the 1930s in 3D, or any venerated classic from any era in this format. Would I like to see Howard Hawks‘ Only Angels Have Wings in 3D? Or Red River or White Heat or Young Mr. Lincoln or The Big Sleep? Nobody needs to see 3D versions of any of these films but I would be genuinely interested and beat a path if the conversions were done right.
Incidentally: During last spring’s 1.37-vs.-1.66 Shane brouhaha Warner Home Video’s Vice President of remastering Ned Price (i.e., one of the guys talking about the Oz 3D conversion in the above video) told me in an email that “I for one, don’t think you are worthy of anyone’s time.” I hereby forgive Price for saying this. It is always a good thing for the victor to be magnanimous.