What Matters? – The Death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman and The Ripple Effect

“Acting is so difficult for me that, unless the work is of a certain stature in my mind, unless I reach the expectations I have of myself, I’m unhappy. Then it’s a miserable existence. I’m putting a piece of myself out there. If it doesn’t do anything, I feel so ashamed. I’m afraid I’ll be the kind of actor who thought he would make a difference and didn’t. Right now, though, I feel like I made a little bit of difference.” (Phillip Seymour Hoffman, imdb.com)

Sunday, Jan. 19, 2014 in Park City, Utah. (Photo by Victoria Will/Invision/AP)

I know he’s a celebrity. I know I don’t know him. He might’ve been a good person, or perhaps not. With his death, comes a great sadness, though. The writer and director in me had him on the short list of brilliant actors I dreamed of working with. The film lover in me wishes he’d be around to win just a few more awards — to play the lead in just a few more films. The horrid shock of knowing we’ll never get to see him in a new film ever is devastating. My only consolation is the realization that there are so many of his films I’ve only “meant” to see, and through them he gets a few new roles — at least for a little while.

After several hours of reflection behind me, I realize why this death affects me more than other celebrity deaths have. Yes, he was an amazing actor — the type that makes you see a movie just because he’s in it, but that’s not it. This death brings tears to my eyes, because he mattered to me. He mattered because in my world Capote mattered. It changed me, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman was Truman Capote, and that mattered.

As I pondered why Capote, of all random films, means something to me, I started thinking about other films (not necessarily my favorites) that truly effected me in some way. Why did they stand out amongst so many? When I started thinking about it, it was actually easy to focus on a select few. This list, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, is inspired by you:

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Beginning in the summer of 2004, I worked the overnight shift at a TV station during the week. I watched a lot of movies during that time, often early in the morning, or in the middle of the night on weekends when the world was asleep. My mind shifted and became addled by a reverse sleep cycle, and I only remember that I might have maybe watched this or that during that time. There’s one film I remember vividly, though.

As Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke bantered about in Before Sunrise,  I remember thinking that never before had I seen a film that had so much dialogue. How had this one pulled it off with such great success? They beat into our brains in film school that films should show not tell, that less is more when it comes to dialogue. Yet, here was a film that broke those rules. Nothing really happened, and it was beautiful. It was fascinating. The conversation was brilliant. The characters were real. I loved it. I love it. It has, had, and continues to impact and inspire me. Thank you Richard Linklater. Thank you Julie Delpy. Thank you Ethan Hawke.

Before college I hadn’t been exposed to many silent films. When I saw The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, it enthralled me. The peculiar scenery, the bizarre characterizations — the horror of it all. This film made me love silent films. It made me see that the world didn’t need to look like the world, to feel like the world. It taught me what a somnambulist is for goodness sakes! Caligari has inspired Hitchcock and Tim Burton, and any number of others. I didn’t know any of this when I first saw it, though. All I knew is it was amazing!

In addition to leading me onto the straight and narrow path of being smitten with the music of Johnny Cash, Walk the Line, simply put, made me believe in love again. It had one thing that separated it from every other love story I’d ever seen or read — one detail that made it stand out. It was  true.

Okay, this is a weird one in comparison to the others. Hear me out, though. Before seeing  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone I hadn’t read any of the books. After seeing it, I immediately read every single one that was out at the time. I bought the remaining novels on their opening days year-after-year. I won a 2nd place Colorado Broadcaster’s Association award for a news piece I did on the final book release. This fantasy world matters to me. Watching Harry Potter marked the first time since L. Frank Baum’s Oz books, that I was fully transported into another world — it brought magic to my life. I wanted to be in those books. I wanted that fantasy to be real. Because of all that followed, this first film mattered.

The Sea Inside is about assisted suicide. It should be a depressing film, but it’s not. I left the film feeling more alive. It was an emotional journey, and of course I cried, but it was not sad. I gained a new love for Spanish cinema after seeing this film. My heart grew fond of Javier Bardem long before he joined forces with The Coen Brothers or James Bond. Mostly, though, I was moved in a way I’d never expected or known before. This one sat with me for a long time.

David Strathairn starred in Good Night and Good Luck. In any other year he would have had-an Oscar winning performance. This isn’t about that film, though. About a year later, I went to see a film starring Strathairn at the Starz Denver Film Festival called The Sensation of Sight. I had no idea David would be there, but when the Q&A began, there he was  with Ian Somerhalder from Lost. What? My heart began to race — literally. Standing in this tiny theatre in Denver, and it truly was a tiny theatre, was an actor I had grown to love. Those days when I sat in the audience at Starz were some of the days I felt most alive during my stint working at a news station. I sat there film after film, and I knew I belonged. It was one of the only places that made me feel that way. Seeing David Strathairn there in my world, close enough that I actually could have talked to him had I thought of something to say, gave me more hope than I even realized at the time.

This brings us back around to Capote, which came out the same year as Goodnight and Good Luck. Any other year, Strathairn may have won the Oscar, or perhaps it would’ve been Heath Ledger. It was neither. It was… who?

Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

This was, as it happens, the second year I’d had an Oscar party — the second year in which I made a grand effort to see as many films as possible. This was the year, I opened my mind to movies I wouldn’t normally see. It was one of the most memorable years in film for me to date. Perhaps, it was the impact of the films that year, or maybe it was just that I’d spent so much time in theatres alone in awe. It’s hard to say. In any case, I didn’t know much about Truman Capote. I’d never read In Cold Blood. I still haven’t. The film Capote blew me away, though. I’m sure I’d seen shocking endings before, but something about Hoffman’s performance — something about the way in which that character behaved — something about the cold, heartless ending — it mattered. It shocked me, and it changed the way I looked at film. It changed the way I measured an amazing performance.

You see, Phillip Seymour Hoffman will forever be Capote to me. He will always matter. Mr. Hoffman sir, you did make a difference. You did the only thing you ever set out to do. There is no shame in the roles you played, or the lives you changed. You’ve created a great ripple.

Goodnight Mr. Hoffman, and good luck.

The Magical Magician Méliès

So here’s the skinny on this blog…

Initially, I designed it as a venue to share movie reviews and research. While I enjoyed creating these well researched articles, turning one out every week or two became tedious and, as you can well see, eventually failed to happen at all. On the other hand, when I turned to writing only reviews, I found myself bored. So back to the research it is. This year, I will turn out two long form articles on an aspect of a film, filmmaker, or topic in film history — no deadlines, just the knowledge that there must be at least two. But where to begin?

After contemplating several topics of interest, I reminded myself of two adages, “Write what you know,” and “Talk about what you love.” Thus, I begin with a silent filmmaker who captured my interest even as a teenager. From the moment I saw “A Trip to the Moon” for the first time, to two nights ago when I began watching his complete collection of films, the magnificent Georges Méliès has held my imagination in check. Through my research on Méliès (talk about what you love), I will inspect the rise (and I will argue) fall of special effects in cinema (write what you know). I’ll occasionally post my general impressions about what I’ve watched, read, or thought here, and hopefully share a completed essay sometime in the next 6 months. My topic may change along the way, and that’s okay, but Méliès is the key.

To understand why this silent filmmaker matters to me, you must hear our history. I was a Junior in High School, and somehow convinced my friends that our History Day project should be about film — my obsession, not theirs. Despite our grand efforts to showcase in a video the broad topic, “Lights, Camera, Action: How the Movies Began,” the project was a failure with the judges. There was no research, no focused topic — all we did was regurgitate known facts. I share this, because somewhere between the last-minute dash to finish the video (VHS, by the way), the frowns from the judges, and a lack of research with substance, I found George Méliès’, and I never forgot him. Somehow, this seemingly random High School project actually mattered.

In college we talked more about Méliès, and watched the full version of “A Trip to the Moon.” I remember reading about his glass studio, mechanical devices, and multiple exposures with awe. I watched many of his films after college, and always wanted to know more — more about this strange man with his magic; and it was magic. Think about it, while the Lumière brothers and Edison were showing us things we could see for ourselves — a train, a baby eating, a boxing match, Méliès was creating worlds unknown. Watching a Méliès film must’ve been more like watching a stage play, or better yet a magic act, but on film it must’ve seemed so real. I would love to be one of his original audience members, soaking in the fantasy, and wondering what else might be possible. Was this world Méliès created as real to an audience as the cattle running through Edison’s latest picture? Did anyone wonder if he really visited the moon? Did they simply ask, “How’d he do that?” Did his multiple heads and dancing creatures frighten or amaze? I want to know.

A few years ago, as I cracked open Hugo by Brian Selznick for the first time my heart jumped with nervous joy. Hugo features a fictional account of Méliès in his old age. Could this book due him justice? Part of me was jealous — I wanted to keep my little Méliès secret. The other part of me was thrilled — the world would finally know his name, and watch his films. They’d watch is films! When I first became fascinated with him, our library didn’t even own a copy of his work. This was disappointing, and I hoped Hugo would change this. It did.

Last night, I began a DVD set that contains 173 original films, as well as a “documentary” on Méliès by George Franju, which features re-enactments by Méliès’ son, and cameos by his wife. I’m giddy! 173 short films! Wow!

Did you know Méliès burned most of his original pieces? Can you imagine? Artists have a love/hate relationship with their work, this is true, and there are many projects of mine which I hope I never see again, but to burn them takes a different kind of hatred. The documentary by Franju suggests that because so many people copied and showed Méliès’ work without giving him credit or any profits, eventually the joy he once felt towards film turned to anger. After World War I, he stopped making movies entirely, and that’s when he burned what remained. I’m interested to research this story more fully. Certainly, Hugo also suggests this sad tale. If the criminals who copied his work, and showed it without permission hadn’t done so, there may be even fewer Méliès films around today. Then again, if they hadn’t stolen his films, perhaps he wouldn’t have burned what he had. Perhaps, he would’ve kept making movies and who knows what masterpieces he would’ve created. Life is full of what ifs, though, so for now, I’ll focus on the 173 films that remain and have been put so beautifully to DVD.

Welcome to the world of Méliès and the inner-windings of my own mind.

So an Insurance Guy Walks into a Femme Fatale’s House: Double Indemnity, in review

“Who’d you think I was anyway? The guy that walks into a good-looking dame’s front parlor and says, “Good afternoon, I sell accident insurance on husbands… you got one that’s been around too long?
One you’d like to turn into a little hard cash?” – Walter Neff –

In Summary:

Double Indemnity is a film noir about an insurance man, Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), who falls mistakenly in love with the beautiful Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) while trying to sell her insurance. The two conspire to remove Phyllis’ ill-tempered husband from the picture, so they can be together. In what is almost the perfect murder and insurance fraud scheme, director Billy Wilder places Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) into the position of the voice of reason. The question is, will Keyes figure out what Walter and Phyllis have done before it’s too late.

Why I watched this one:
As it turns out, I’ve watched very few film noir pieces. I’m not sure why. I wanted and needed to watch more, and Double Indemnity has long been on my list.  Also, I enjoy Fred MacMurray, and was interested to see his performance in this particular film.

So what is a noir? Variety describes the genre this way:

“Between the Great Depression and the start of the
Cold War, Hollywood went noir, reflecting the worldly, weary, wised-up under
current of mid-century America. In classics such as Laura, Sweet Smell of
Success, and Double Indemnity, where the shadows of L.A. and New York
pulse with killers, corpses, and perilous romance, failure is not only a logical option but a smart-talking seduction.” – Vanity Fair March 2007 –

Who isn’t drawn in by the idea that the shadows of L.A. and New York “pulse” with peril. It’s exciting. It’s dangerous. Honestly, though, if I wasn’t reading this quote as a description of film noir, I might mistake it for that of a mobster movie — Dick Tracy, The Godfather, The Sopranos, and The Departed immediately pop to mind.  Filmnoir.net takes a different approach when describing the film noir.

“The great films noir had both popular appeal and artistic merit because their themes address the human condition and the frailty of normal lives, which at any moment can be plunged into the chasm of chaos,
through chance or individual action – innocent or otherwise.
How moral ambivalence, lust, love and greed can destroy lives was
explored outside the closed romantic realism of mainstream movies.”

I was always taught to believe they required this formula:

1. A femme fatale (always a femme fatale) — which means never trust the women in these films. Never.
2. Someone with some loose morals
3. A detective, or a crime
4. High contrast cinematography and lighting (big shadows, light vs. dark, black blacks and white whites — you get it)

Double Indemnity meets all of these film noir requirements,  so no wonder it’s marked as one of the greats. It was nominated for seven Academy Awards in 1945, including Best Picture, but lost to the Bing Crosby film Going My Way.

My Review & Verdict — in Claps:

“Suddenly it came over me that everything would go wrong.
It sounds crazy, Keyes, but it’s true, so help me.
I couldn’t hear my own footsteps. It was the walk of a dead man.”
– Water Neff –

I enjoyed this film. Why?

Every character with the exception of Barton Keyes was pretty much a scoundrel, a liar, a cheat, or a murderer. Of course, by “every character” I simply mean those played by MacMurray and Stanwyck. Perhaps, it was that bit of redemption at the end as Walter Neff comes clean about his crime that makes me like it. Perhaps, it was the intrigue throughout as I wondered how they’d commit their murder, and if dear Phyllis Dietrichson was really in love with Neff or simply playing him for a fool. Even though I know the woman is always deceptive in the noir, I always want to believe it isn’t true. I want a good guy. I want a happy ending. But then, Wilder began with the end and then had Walter tell the story from the beginning. I knew immediately there was no happy ending to be had, but I still enjoyed this film.

For the third time  Billy Wilder has graced this blog, and he’s definitely becoming one of my favorites. Once more he’s created likeable unlikable characters who represent the good and bad in all of us. This time he did it in the acceptable form of film noir. Every director could learn a thing or two about character development and an interesting plot line from Mr. Wilder.

Thus it is, that you may clap in high contrast, with big scary shadow puppet hands, for Double Indemnity.

“Yes, I killed him. I killed him for money – and a woman –
and I didn’t get the money and I didn’t get the woman. Pretty, isn’t it?”
– Water Neff –

Related Articles:

• Essential Film Noirs ( fimnoir.net)
• Ebert’s Review of Double Indemnity (rogerebert.suntimes.com)
• Double Indemnity: An In Depth Look at the Classic (moderntimes.com)
• Film Noir Studies (filmnoirstudies.com)

“Do NOT call me a Dink.” — This is a bit off topic.

Hey! Alright, so you’re probably wondering where my movie reviews are (or maybe not), but they will rise again. This is for sure. In the meantime, I made a short film called “Dink.” It’s in post-production right now and you can follow it here:

https://www.facebook.com/Dinkmovie

It’s going to be a super fun Facebook site full of exclusive videos, and updates from the P.O.V. of one of the characters. It’d be super cool if you’d like the page. 🙂 There’s a Groucho Marx reference in the film, so it’s still got that old movie shout out.

More old movie blogs soon! 🙂 I have big plans for film noir.

The Claps in Between or What I Did on My Blogging Vacation

I got a little behind with my blog… Okay, a lot behind.

I was hung up waiting for time to do the proper Western film research, then failed to review anything in between. So, in lieu of a true entry this week I offer my thoughts on several more recent films (mostly) that I watched between blogs. My next piece will either be the western analysis OR one on Double Indemnity. In any case, here are some other things to clap about (or not). I will offer no explanation.

The Dark Knight Rises – You may clap, and clap, and clap, and clap, and clap.
Super 8 – You may clap, and dig up your old film camera
The Descendents – You may clap, I did not — what a disappointment
The Artist – You may clap silently
The Philadelphia Story – You will clap, Red
Kung-Fu Hustle – You may do a kung-fu chop
Rango – You might clap
Puss in Boots – You may clap with an accent, or find a kitten to pet
The Star Wars Original Trilogy – I mean duh, clap a lot
Clerks – You may clap, and laugh, and clap
Red State – You’ll clap with trepidation, unless you’re a religious extremist, then I really can’t say what you’ll do
The Game – You may clap, after you figure out what’s going on
Drive – You may clap, but I think it was over-hyped

It’s the Wild West, There’s No Rain — Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, in Review

“You should have let yourself get killed a long time ago when you had the chance. See, you may be the biggest thing that ever hit this area, but you’re still two-bit outlaws. I never met a soul more affable than you, Butch, or faster than the Kid, but you’re still nothing but two-bit outlaws on the dodge. It’s over, don’t you get that? Your time is over and you’re gonna die bloody,  and all you can do is choose where.”
– Sheriff Ray Bledsoe: [to Butch and Sundance] –

In Summary:
As you might deduce from the title, this film is about the legendary outlaws Butch Cassidy (Paul Newman) and The Sundance Kid (Robert Redford). The film follows the two robbers through the latter portion of their “careers” as they terrorize one last train, get tailed by an unknown horse posse, and jump ship for Bolivia with Sundance’s girlfriend Etta (Katherine Ross). This so-called “buddy film” is ultimately more about the friendship between Butch, Sundance, and even to a certain extent Etta, then it is the great escapades in which they partook. It also touches a bit on their efforts to live life on the straight and narrow, which never really seems quite possible for the two outlaws.

The film, directed by George Roy Hill,  brought Redford and Newman together for the first time. They would re-unite in 1973 for Hill’s film, The Sting. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid won Oscars for Best Cinematography, Best Original Score, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Original Song. It was nominated for Best Director, Best Picture, and Best Sound. It was nominated and won a cache of other awards, including several BAFTAS, Golden Globes, and a Grammy for Burt Bacharach‘s original score. You can view the complete list here.

Why I watched this one:
This movie popped to mind, because I’d seen a little part of it once (I was pretty sure anyway)– the part where they jump off the cliff — and I never saw the rest.

Mostly, though, I wanted to see another Paul Newman film (I’ve only seen Cool Hand Luke, and his more recent appearances in Road to Perdition and Empire Falls). I didn’t enjoy Cool Hand Luke, so I was skeptical of this movie. But, I like outlaws as much as the next girl, so why not give it a watch.

I didn’t remember much about Butch Cassidy or The Sundance Kid before watching this. I still don’t know too much about their outlaw career, to be honest, since the film is dated near the end of their heyday.

In doing some research for this review, however, I found this awesome old photo of Butch Cassidy, The Sundance Kid, and the rest of their gang, The Wild Bunch. Interestingly enough, in the film their gang is not the Wild Bunch, but The Hole in the Wall Gang. It’s true, though, that the Wild Bunch would meet quite often at a hideout called Hole in the Wall in Johnson County, Wyoming. As it turns out, the various outlaws that met here were called The Hole in the Wall Gang. This referred to all of the individual gangs that would meet there, making it not just the one group, but several, including The Wild Bunch.

Robert LeRoy Parker, better known as Butch Cassidy, is in the lower right-hand side of the photo with his hand resting on the arm of his chair. I don’t really think Paul Newman looks much like him. The Sundance Kid (Harry Alonzo Longabaugh), seated on the far left, does look a bit like Robert Redford did in the film, though. It’s said that posing for this photo was one of the greatest mistakes Butch Cassidy made, because it allowed the Pinkerton Detective Agency to track them down.

Needless to say, after doing some quick research on Butch Cassidy and his gang, its clear that the film takes some liberties with actual events, and invents others entirely. Yes, they robbed a train called the flyer, and yes a posse did follow them for a while. Yes, they did go to South America with Etta (though they originally aimed for Argentina, not Bolivia), and yes they did supposedly die in a shootout. Everything else, might be a bit embellished. You can read more of the story for yourself here on Wikipedia or on a more legitimate site of your choice.

My Review & Verdict — in Claps:
I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised by this film. It intermixed just enough humor and action to make it extremely enjoyable to watch. Paul Newman was entertaining as Butch Cassidy, but Robert Redford shined as Sundance. There was something quietly clever about his character, even though Butch was supposedly the brains of their gang. The minor characters are also rather ingenious — all endearing in their own right. They include, Woodcock (who guarded the safe on the train), the bicycle salesman, News Carver (of their gang), and poor Percy Garris (who almost helps Butch and Sundance lead a lawful life). Each of them has at least one memorable one-liner, which keeps the film enjoyable and light considering we’re watching a gang of outlaws.

Stylistically, the film is a total trip too. It starts out with an awesome sepia-tone look that, to be honest, I wish had been carried throughout. Then, there’s that wonderful montage of photos as Butch, Sundance, and Etta travel towards Bolivia with still pictures of the cast intermixed with historical photos. I was hoping this was intentional, and not a montage inserted into the DVD master of the film to make up for missing footage. It was intentional.

The only part I disliked about the film, though it seems to have received critical acclaim, was the bicycle scene and use of Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head. The song completely broke from the feel of the film. Why would that song be playing in the old west? It wouldn’t. The bicycle scene itself with Paul Newman and Katherine Ross, may not have bothered me had it only played out under a western-themed tune. My Darlin’ Clementine? ‘Ol Susannah? Anything!

That scene aside,  I came to an obvious decision immediately after watching this film… 

You may clap loudly for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and if you’re like Etta, you might just run off with a gang of outlaws after watching it. Okay, no… too much? Don’t do that… please.

“I’m 26, and I’m single, and a school teacher, and that’s the bottom of the pit. And the only excitement I’ve known is here with me now. I’ll go with you, and I won’t whine, and I’ll sew your socks, and I’ll stitch you when you’re wounded, and I’ll do anything you ask of me except one thing. I won’t watch you die. I’ll miss that scene if you don’t mind.” – Etta Place –

Related Articles:

• Some “facts” about the real Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid
• All about the montage
• A video review of Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kids (it amuses)
• Dust to Dust: The Mythical Graves of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (lightbox.time.com)
• Butch And The Kid (poemsandponderings.wordpress.com)

Whoa, take ‘er easy there, Pilgrim — The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, in Review

 I know those law books mean a lot to you, but not out here. Out here a man settles his own problems.
– Tom Doniphon, as played by John Wayne –

In Summary:
When Senator Ransom Stoddard (Jimmy Stewart) arrives to the town of Shinbone with his wife Hallie (Vera Miles) for a funeral, the townsfolk become curious as to who’s funeral he’s attending and why. Though a few people seem to know the senator well, and it’s established that he spent time there earlier on his life, no one seems to know of the Stoddard’s friend Tom Doniphon (John Wayne). Demanding that they know the truth about the senator’s visit, the local news reporters convince him to tell the tale of his arrival in Shinbone many years ago, his connection to the mysterious Tom Doniphon, and the shooting death of town outlaw Liberty Valance (Lee Marvin). The bulk of this John Ford film is this old west tale. Check out the trailer below.

Why I watched this one:
For the greater majority of my life (meaning the entire portion that I remember), Jimmy Stewart and John Wayne have been larger-than-life acting gods. I suppose this has little to do with their actual skill as actors, but rather their iconic presence on-screen. It’s a Wonderful Life is one of my all-time favorite movies (not just at Christmas), and Rooster Cogburn, McLintock, and In Harms Way — amongst others — seemed to always be playing at my grandfather’s house in my earlier years. That said, when a fellow movie buff recommended a film to me with both Jimmy Stewart and John Wayne in it, I jumped on the opportunity to enjoy both of these iconic actors at the same time.

The film was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Costume Design (Black and White).

My Review & Verdict — in Claps:
I have mixed emotions about this flick for several reasons. On one hand, I’m completely underwhelmed by Jimmy Stewart’s performance. The character of Ransom Stoddard reminded me of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington in the west. He was too preachy with his law-abiding morals, and downright annoying as a schoolteacher. On the flip-side, I thought John Wayne’s performance was excellent. He stood up to my expectations, and even showed a bit of conflicted depth when dealing with his feelings towards Vera Miles’s character, and even his feelings towards coaching Stewart’s character about the ways of the west. The true surprise for me was Lee Marvin as Liberty Valance. I’m not sure I’ve seen Marvin in anything before, and now I’m totally drawn to him. He represented pure evil in this film, and I have to say even I was a bit afraid of him by the end.

In one of my favorite clips from the film, Liberty Valance’s character trips Random Stoddard, causing Tom Doniphon’s steak to fall on the floor. This is the resulting interaction between the three characters. It’s scene’s like this that make the film entertaining and fulfilling as a western. That, and the fact that this is the film where John Wayne coins the word “pilgrim.” He apparently says it 23 times in this movie, and once in McClintock. Here’s a fun little clip someone put together of each occurence of the word in this film.

Right, so enough fooling around… pilgrim. What did I think of the flick? This is a tough call, because honestly I didn’t feel fulfilled at the end of it. The conclusion is somber, to say the least — a real downer for a western. The good guy wins, I suppose, but another good guy sort of lost… a lot. It’s not your typical western in that regard. That said, it has a sort of honesty to it that can’t be ignored. It addresses the ghosts in Senator Stoddard’s past, and how those ghosts (or legends) got him to his place in life. Who can’t relate to that? In the end, though, I have to say I was mildly disappointed in the film overall. I wanted to like it so badly, and perhaps that was my downfall.

You might clap for The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, but I unfortunately can only clap for the satisfaction of finally seeing John Wayne say “pilgrim” multiple times in one movie.

Related Articles:

• An interview with Lee Marvin about working with John Ford (youtube.com)
• The Late, Great John Wayne (socyberty.com)

They’re Never Going to Find that Girl; The Searchers, in Review

In Summary:
Set in Texas 3 years after the end of the Civil War, the Edwards family seems to lead a relatively quiet ranch life until Aaron Edwards’s long-lost brother, Ethan Edwards (John Wayne), rides back into town. Though his nieces and nephews are thrilled to see their confederate rebel-rousing uncle, his sister-in-law conveys an awkward sexual tension that even the casual viewer can’t help but observe with unease. Before we can figure out what’s going on with that, though, Ethan rides off with the Texas Rangers in search of a cattle thief. Upon his return, he finds his family has been attacked by Comanche indians. His nieces are missing, and he’s determined to track them down. Thus, he embarks with his half-nephew, Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter),  his niece’s boyfriend (Harry Carey Jr.), and a posse of men to find the tribe that stole away the girls. As the search party dwindles, we begin to wonder if they really ever will find the girls, and what will happen when they do.

Why I watched this one:
I wanted to watch a John Wayne film that I hadn’t seen. This was my main motivation. I also wanted to watch a John Ford film. I thought I’d seen one. As it turns out, this was my first. This also made two people’s lists of westerns that I should watch.

In doing a little research, I’ve found it was named AFI’s #1 western of all time. You can view the complete list here: http://suite101.com/article/afi-names-top-ten-western-films-of-all-time-a62021

It also made AFI’s top 100 films of all time, landing in spot #96. It wasn’t nominated for any Academy Awards.

My Review & Verdict — in Claps:
I struggled with this one. Even a day after watching this film I’m really not sure how to review it. The peculiarity of the movie is, though it was made in the mid-fifties, it portrays America (Texas specifically) a  few years after the Civil War. In essence, then, it’s a period piece meant to represent a particular time in our history. There’s no denying that the film is horribly racist towards Native Americans, which is extremely difficult to bear throughout. No doubt, there are huge inaccuracies between the way the film portrays life in the late 1860’s and the reality of that time. No doubt, I’ll discuss this further in my later critical examination of westerns.

Racism aside, then, let me point out a few of the things I loved about this movie. The scenery, for one, is amazing. John Ford’s big sweeping open spaces are simply breathtaking. The use of color, contrast, and lighting is also exquisite. I just ate up the dusk scene right before the family was attacked by the Comanche tribe. The orange light used to represent a doom-filled-dusk was Douglas Sirk-esque in it’s over dramatic tone; I savored it. I also have to give props to John Wayne. I grew up watching John Wayne movies with my Grandpa, so I have a personal attachment to him. I see him as this super-sized hero amongst men, who always does what’s right (in the end) — A gruff gunslinger with a heart somewhere down in there. It’s hard to see him otherwise. Somehow, he pulled it off though, because in this film, he portrays a man strongly conflicted by his love of family and his hatred towards Native Americans. Though, in the end he does do the right thing (sort of), his coldness, his bloodthirsty quest for revenge, and his somewhat mixed motives for finding his niece, make him just as much the bad guy as the tribe leader, Scar, that he seeks.

If I throw all analysis aside, though, I have to say I was moved by this film. You can’t help but become invested in Martin Pawley’s character, nor in that of poor Laurie Jorgensen (Vera Miles) who waits for him back in Texas. Thus, because of it’s cinematic excellence, the fact that it is a period piece meant to represent a far-different time in our history, and my attachment to Martin’s character, I have to clap for it. I do this with much trepidation, though. It dances along the same line as Gone with the Wind in that regard. Though the film itself is well done, what it represents is horrifying.

Related Articles:

• The Searchers (1956) Review (oldgamereviewer.com)
• Shall we gather at the river? – (Roger Ebert and John Wayne) (gunnyg.wordpress.com)
• Leading Man Tournament: Week 3 – The 1950s (journeysinclassicfilm.com)
• The Searchers reviewed by Peter Bogdanovich (blogs.indiewire.com/peterbogdanovich)

What Does Spaghetti Have to do with a Western? – Fistful of Dollars, in review

“When I was young, I believed in three things: Marxism, the redemptive power of cinema, and dynamite. Now I just believe in dynamite.”
― Sergio Leone, Conversations Avec Sergio Leone

In Summary
A Fistful of Dollars is not the first, but one of the most well-known of the Spaghetti Westerns. Fistful is the first in director Sergio Leone’s western trilogy featuring Clint Eastwood, culminating in one of the best known westerns, The Good the Bad and the Ugly.

In the film, a poncho-wearing stranger (Eastwood) rolls into town, wasting no time slinging his gun around at the unsuspecting, though probably deserving strangers.  He finds out that the town is run by rival families, the Baxters and the Rojos, who apparently spend most of their time shooting at one another. In a bold move, he wiggles his way into both families trust (if you can call it that). His apparent goal might be no more than playing both sides, earning a pile of cash, shooting a few men, then riding back out of town. Decide that for yourself. As the trailer to the flm so boldly announces, “A Fistful of Dollars is the first motion picture of its kind. It won’t be the last!”

A few things of note about A Fistful of Dollars, are that Clint Eastwood was not Leone’s original choice to play “the stranger,” and that it was in all likelihood a re-made version of the Kurosawa Samurai film, Yojimbo. Though Leone apparently denied the similarities between the two films for some time, a lawsuit eventually said differently, and a percentage of the profits from the film were given to Kurosawa. Incidentally, on the former point, Clint Eastwood’s role in A Fistful of Dollars is what took him from a part on the television show Rawhide to worldwide fame. Who knew that Leone’s last choice for a star would become one of the greatest actors and directors around.

Why I Watched This One
The first time I saw this movie I was a teenager, and I was accustomed to the John Wayne style westerns I’d been exposed to most of my life. I had the grand idea to watch the entire “The Man with No Name” series. I only got through A Fistful of Dollars. Seemingly cold-hearted killings, a machine gun, and a lead character who by the end of the film you still don’t really know anything about; this was not what I’d expected from a western.  As a teen, that didn’t make any sense to me.

My next exposure to the spaghetti western came while reading my film history book in college. That’s when I found out that the Eastwood series along with several other westerns of the time period were actually directed and produced in Italy, falling into the sub-genre of “Spaghetti Westerns.” The name ‘spaghetti western’ originated when in the mid-60’s several Italian (and even German and Spanish) filmmakers began making westerns. The term was originally an insult, given by foreign critics, because they believed these westerns must be inferior to the better known American westerns. Most of the films were low budget, but many were still innovative, artistic, and well-made.  Although some Italians still prefer to call the films western all’italiana (westerns Italian style), the term “Spaghetti Western,” is no longer seen as an insult.

While I found this whole spaghetti western idea interesting, it still didn’t prompt me to re-watch the films. Now, a decade or so later, I believe my taste in movies has become a bit more… refined. It was finally time to give this series another, no pun intended, shot.

My Review & Verdict – in Claps
Yes, it is violent. Yes, Clint Eastwood’s character is a bit mysterious. Was he trying to do good, or just entertaining himself by interfering with the petty squabbles of a small town? It’s really hard to say. I saw a few more sparks of character this second time around, though, that lead me to believe he was trying to do the right thing in his own peculiar way. Eastwood has some great one-liners, and that coffin-maker is hilarious, but what strikes me most about this film is the use of silence. What really distinguishes a great film, from a good film, from an okay film is some mechanism that pushes the story forward in an unusually fitting way. Here, it was Leone’s use of those silent, dramatic moments where Eastwood is just staring someone down. The silence is almost awkward it goes on so long. You’re waiting for something to happen, then when it does…BAM! It’s so worth it. Other cinematic choices, such as the extreme close-ups on the eyes of various characters, and the unforgettable music, make this a great movie. You may clap loudly for A Fistful of Dollars, just don’t laugh at the mule. Seriously, you really don’t want to laugh at the mule.

Related Links:

• Spaghetti Western Database:  Information about films, directors, and actors that fall into the Spaghetti Western category 
• Sergio Leone Web Board: A Discussion Board about Sergio Leone and his Films
• A Comparison of Yojimbo, A Fistful of Dollars, & Last Man Standing

Related articles

• Sergio Leone: Something to Do with Death (Column) (popmatters.com)
• Movie Review: A Fistful Of Dollars (themoviedeedat.wordpress.com)

In Want of the Western — What are your Faves? … And GO!

I’m looking for westerns.

It’s a new year, and with that comes a new game plan… Right so, you’re correct in saying it’s been a new year for the past 5 months. Memo received.

In any case, starting this month I’m going to structure the blog a bit differently. Each month (or so), I’ll pick a GRAND THEME for the movies I’ll watch that month. I’ll do a short review for each film, then at the END of the month (or the start of the next one), I’ll do some cool (perhaps only to me) diatribe about the genre, the filmmaker, the actor/actress, etc. and so forth. It’s going to be great, fabulous, maybe even magnificent!

Right now, I’m looking for your recommendations of the BEST western films ever made, or at least the best ones you’ve seen. I’m kicking off the month with A Fistful of Dollars, because a friend lent it to me months ago, and it’s been waiting impatiently to be watched ever since. After that, the movies are up in the air. I want to watch another John Wayne flick, because it’s been far too long since I’ve seen one of those, but which one is still up for debate.

Hit me with your ideas here, or on my movie recommendation tab. I’m looking forward to what you come up with.

The Wolf Man and The Universal Studios Monster…Mash

Whether we’ve seen them or not, I’m sure most everyone has heard of the classic monster movies produced by Universal Studios in the 1930-s and 40’s. Films like Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy, The Invisible Man (which is next on my list), The Bride of Frankenstein, and of course, The Wolf Man (two words). These well-known flicks stay alive symbolizing the dawn of horror, the popularity of the monster, and as a basis from which these iconic figures are depicted to this day. So what of The Wolf Man, in particular?

Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright. – Jenny Williams –

In Summary & Review
The Wolf Man centers around the story of Larry Talbot (Lon Cheney Jr.) who returns home after 18 years away. We don’t really know why he was gone that long, all we know is that his father Sir John Talbot (Claude Rains) is rich, a bit snobbish, and fairly skeptical of his wayward son. Larry begins his return by stumbling upon his neighbor Gwen (Evelyn Ankers) Rear Window style,while testing out his father’s telescope; endearing him to us immediately (or not). He immediately rushes to her shop to introduce himself, and that’s where his lesson in werewolf lore begins. When a band of gypsies passes through town Larry and Gwen and her friend Jenny go to have their fortunes told, only to cross paths with a murderous wolf. Thus, the terror begins, landing Talbot right in the center of suspicion.

I’m not sure what I was expecting from this movie. I suppose, it being one of the first werewolf films, I expected some sort of grand lore to unfold, and the first gruesome death-by-wolf to induce shock. Having not seen many werewolf movies, The Howling probably being the only one, most of my werewolf knowledge stems from books like Harry Potter and The Dresden Files. I was looking forward to a classic look at these strange and frightening creatures, which are depicted in these books as the deadliest, cruelest, and most devilish of monsters. After watching the film, though, I was left thinking the werewolves of my reading adventures were far more frightening than that of Lon Cheney Jr. as the Wolf Man. Of course, he was one of the first, and that does make him special. Doesn’t it?

I have to say, all-in-all, though I kept watching, I was a little disappointed in this film. It started with grand potential, slowly building up to Cheney’s character, Larry Talbot, becoming the werewolf. Little references to dogs, wolves, and wolfbane crept in weaving suspense. Then, after the transformation, the suspense just sort of dropped and everything from that point forward was both expected and shallow. I will give Universal props for the tragic ending, though. Expected, as it was, it was still…memorable. Until, of course, you find out that Universal went on to resurrect Larry Talbot for three more horror movies, and one Abbott and Costello monster flick.

Recognition & Discussion
It seems as if either the original Dracula, Frankenstein, or Wolf Man appear on many lists people have compiled of their favorite horror films. But why? They aren’t scary… not even close. Years later, I actually can’t even remember what happened in the Dracula or Frankenstein movies, though I obviously know the tales of both monsters as well as anyone. Of course, there are those images that stand out; Bela Lugosi opening up his black cape and grinning freakishly and Boris Karloff first coming to life as Frankenstein’s monster. The same is now true for me of the scenes in which Lon Cheney Jr.’s wolfman stumbles through the foggy woods in search of his next victim. It would seem, then, that the acclaim of these films now is more in respect for their significance in monster history, than in their actual timeless thrill. Unlike the classic comedies or dramas, which have themes, jokes, and characters that still hold relevant, it would seem that our sense of “scary” has changed through time. The twists, the jump-out-of your seat scares, and the gore of modern horror films has left these monsters of yore waddling about in disappointment. What they represent has not changed, but they’re scare-power has greatly decreased. In, my opinion.

I wonder, though, how a film like TheWolf Man was received in 1941. Was it scary? Was it cheesy? What about Frankenstein or Dracula? According to a 1941 movie review from The New York Times, reviewer T.S. (perhaps I should started writing with just my initials for a name) gives less than flattering remarks about the film:

Perhaps in deference to a Grade-B budget it has tried to make a little go a long way, and it has concealed most of that little in a deep layer of fog. And out of that fog, from time to time, Lon Chaney Jr. appears vaguely, bays hungrily, and skips back into mufti. Offhand, though we never did get a really good look, we’d say that most of the budget was spent on Mr. Chaney’s face, which is rather terrifying, resembling as it does a sort of Mr. Hyde badly in need of a shave. Privately, and on the evidence here offered, we still suspect that the werewolf is just a myth.

He goes on to compare the werewolf to Santa Claus, stating that both are in need of a makeover to make their image more convincing. He states:

Without any build-up either by the scriptwriter or director, he is sent onstage, where he, looks a lot less terrifying and not nearly as funny as Mr. Disney’s big, bad wolf. Sharing his embarrassment are Maria Ouspenshaya, Claude Rains, Bela Lugosi, Warren William, Ralph Bellamy and Evelyn Ankers—who under more nonchalant circumstances would be referred to as a “sterling” cast. Most of them look as though they wished they had a wolf-skin to jump into—any old wolf-skin, so long as it was anonymous.

I question his comparison to Santa Claus, though. I’m pretty sure that depiction has lasted throughout time. Also, why would you compare Santa Clause to a werewolf? Regardless, the film, according to The Times’  T.S., does nothing to make the myth of the werewolf believable. Of course, something important to note, is that the screenwriter, Curt Siodmak,  admits to purposely not writing the script based on actual werewolf mythology, but rather he makes up his own werewolf story. He claims to base his monsters on scientific truth rather than mythology. In this case, I’m not really sure where the science was, but Siodmak must’ve thought it was there. Perhaps, he refers more to his later scripts featuring Cheney’s wolf man squaring off with Frankenstein and Dracula.

Frankenstein and Dracula on the other hand roused positive reviews in 1931 when they were released. In the December 5, 1931 issue of the New York Times, reviewer Mordaunt Hall says, “It is naturally a morbid, gruesome affair, but it is something to keep the spectator awake, for during its most spine-chilling periods it exacts attention.” The same reviewer gives praise to Dracula in an article from February 13, 1931, “It is a production that evidently had the desired effect upon many in the audience yesterday afternoon, for there was a general outburst of applause when Dr. Van Helsing produced a little cross that caused the dreaded Dracula to fling his cloak over his head and make himself scarce.”

It would seem, then, that by the time The Wolf Man was released, either Universal was losing it’s flare, or audience tastes were changing. The Wolf Man and it’s sequels (of which most monster movies had in those days), were hailed as the last of the great Universal monster films.

In an article by Eric Hehr titled The Golden Age of Monsters on Chicagoist.com, he discusses this golden age of horror:

Universal’s impact on the horror genre is without a doubt tremendous. They were not only able to brand the genre and coin the term ‘horror’ in a cinematic sense, but they were also able to exploit it in order to bring money into an otherwise suffering studio in a bleak point in America’s economy. Carl Laemmle Junior and Senior fed the public’s craving for these romantically dark, twisted tales, and in the process an incredibly deprived and underprivileged public still managed to feed the Laemmle’s wallets. Junior developed shock value in horror films, set the foundation for the original archetypes, and in the process created stars out of actors playing disgusting, sinister characters.

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
It’s hard to know who to blame for this film falling a bit flat. Lon Cheney Jr. certainly gave his best performance, and for the time, the make-up and costuming by the acclaimed monster maker Jack Pierce (Whose story is both interesting, and tragic) was on par. Curt Siodmak could, perhaps, have written a better story then with better suspense build-up near the end, but then, he too was on beat with the times. Or was he? The New York Times reviewer would say, “No.” I don’t blame anyone, though, for my underwhelming reaction to this movie. It was simply, not what I’d hoped for. I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe one of you can. Maybe you disagree wholeheartedly with me. Heck, maybe I just picked the wrong time to watch an early werewolf film.

Why I watched this film in the first place?
In searching for classic horror films, I found this on many lists. I hadn’t seen it, and I hadn’t seen many werewolf films. It’s as simple as that.

If you liked this, you might also like:
If you liked this, by chance, you’ll like Frankenstein and Dracula even more. You’ll also probably enjoy Abbott and Costello’s monster spoofs, of which, I plan to watch VERY soon. They did one with all of the Universal monsters, and some of them featured multiple monsters in one. I remember watching them as a kid and they were great fun. If you like this, I’ve included a few lists of werewolf movies that others have compiled. I can’t speak for them, so if anyone finds one you really enjoy, I’d love to hear about it.

Final verdict – in claps:
I did not clap. I did not howl. I didn’t boo, though. It was what it was, and I have respect for the era in which it was made. I loved watching the documentary about the Wolf Man that accompanied the film. I particularly enjoyed the section on costume designer Jack Pierce. Yak hair was apparently what was used to make Lon Cheney’s beard. Who’d of guessed? So… clap if you’d like. It’s just a matter of tastes. Clap in respect for an era, or clap because you love werewolves. Clap for Cheney and his depiction of the Wolf Man or clap for the costuming. I wouldn’t fault anyone for liking this film.

Related Links
More on the history of The Wolf Man: http://famousmonstersoffilmland.com/2010/01/07/wolf-men-the-men-who-created-1941s-the-wolf-man/
Other people’s favorite werewolf films:
http://horror.about.com/od/horrortoppicklists/tp/bestwerewolfmovies.htm
http://www.pajiba.com/seriously_random_lists/the-best-werewolf-movies-of-the-last-30-years.php
http://www.top10films.co.uk/archives/5793
http://www.ranker.com/list/the-best-werewolf-movies-ever-made/all-genre-movies-lists

Bette Davis Eyes Gone Bad: What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Twisted Sisterly Macabre and Bitter Rivalry

Bette Davis, easily one of the best-known stars of the 1930’s through 50’s, was only 54 when she made the frightening film What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? which acted to revitalize her career after a short lull. Her transformation from big-eyed beauty to beastly spinster is so terrifying that it really gives a whole new perspective to the phrase “Bette Davis Eyes.” The question I asked myself multiple times during my screening of the movie, though, was, “Is this horror? Or just depressing?” It certainly doesn’t meet the requirements that we normally think of when we think of “scary movies.” There are no monsters (or are there), no gruesome attacks (not exactly), and I certainly never screamed with terror. Upon looking up the definition of horror, though, it’s defined as: an overwhelming and painful feeling caused by something frightfully shocking, terrifying, or revolting; centered upon or depicting terrifying or macabre events. That said, I suppose this does qualify as horror, it certainly was horrific to watch and it absolutely shocked.

Blanche: You wouldn’t be able to do these awful things to me if I weren’t still in this chair.
Jane: But you ARE, Blanche! You ARE in that chair!

In Summary & Review
The film is about two aged Hollywood sisters who live alone in their equally aged house. One sister, movie star Blanche Hudson (Joan Crawford), is confined to a wheel chair from an infamous and somewhat mysterious car accident that we see early in the film. The other sister, Jane “Baby Jane” Hudson (Bette Davis) is her eccentric caregiver. Poor Jane was a child vaudeville star who never found her footing in the movies when she grew older. It’s a sad picture before Jane goes bonkers. It’s a horrifying picture once she does. While both sisters battled severe jealousy towards one another at various points in their lives, it seems Jane’s fall from stardom effected her more than Blanche’s. She’s trapped in the child-like world of Baby Jane, certain that one day she’ll regain her star status; that is, after she’s rid of her beautiful, annoying, and crippled sister. However, a spoiled child grown into a spoiled and mentally disturbed woman isn’t a charming thing to watch, but rather a frightening one. How can we feel sorry for her psychosis, when she’s raging twisted attack after twisted attack upon poor, helpless Blanche? No, Jane seems beyond help, and Blanche is but the helpless victim. It’s a frigthful depiction of childhood rivalry, turned adult rivalry, turned insanity. You can watch the trailer at the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAcf9QqXprc

Marked with all of the elements of a psychological thriller with doses of the macabre, I was actually on the edge of my couch rooting for Blanche to break free of her sister’s lunacy. I was shocked, appalled, and yes, rather disturbed by the pathetic place where these two sisters found themselves. I was hoping for Jane to trip up, perhaps even up the stairs while carrying one of those grotesque meals she brought Blanche. Of course, that’s not the formula of horror films, and sadly this one was no different. Bette Davis and Joan Crawford shine as eccentric, loony, bitter, creepy, and altogether cooky fallen stars. I couldn’t help but think of Grey Gardens gone bad. Thank goodness little Edie wasn’t that kind of crazy.

Bette Davis’ remarkable performance as Baby Jane reminds us once more of how completely devoted she was to every role she encountered. Practiced in playing the strong-willed beauty, how different it must’ve been for her to play the psychotic old lady, hell-bent on torturing her paralyzed sister. It’s remarkable the way in which Davis flits back and forth between the evil and innocence brought on by whatever personality disorder Baby Jane was experiencing. That moment when we first see her in the oversized Baby Jane costume that matches that of her Baby Jane doll perfectly, is perhaps the most terrifying and telling of all. Can you imagine some of our most recognizable recent child stars jumping into grown-up sized versions of their character’s best-known outfits at age 50? Somehow I picture a grown Urkel running about saying, “Did I do that?” It’s deranged. It’s probably not an uncommon effect of child stardom, though. What make the film most horrific, however, is that for some reason Bette Davis’ Baby Jane character takes out all of her twisted regrets on her sister, who’s trapped in an upstairs room with no hope of getting out. This is the part that puts What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?, right on par with any other creepy kidnapper, torture, or serial killer film of today. It takes light, fun places like the beach, and turns them into terrifying reminisces about a childhood long-gone and two sisters on the edge of destroying one another. It makes the viewer go, “Oh God! What can she possibly do to that poor woman now! Make it stop!” It certainly made me do that.

“Blanche, you aren’t ever gonna sell this house…and you aren’t ever gonna leave it…either.” – Jane

Reaction and Recognition
According to Tim Dirks on the AMC Filmsite, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? is, “A great psychological thriller, black comedy, and over-the-top camp classic… It features the bizarre (and sole) pairing of two legendary — and rival — screen legends in a gothic, macabre.” He goes on to describe the original theatrical posters for the film as having the following five points or things you should know before buying a ticket:

1. If you’re long-standing fans of Miss Davis and Miss Crawford, we warn you this is quite unlike anything they’ve ever done.
2. You are urged to see it from the beginning.
3. Be prepared for the macabre and the terrifying.
4. We ask your pledge to keep the shocking climax a secret.
5. When the tension begins to build, remember it’s just a movie.

Here, we get a sense of just how terrifying it must’ve been to see this film in 1962 when it was released, particularly, if you were already a fan of Bette Davis or Joan Crawford. I know it bothered me seeing Davis in such a strange, new light. It was, perhaps, this strange, new light, however, that earned Davis an Oscar nomination for her role as Baby Jane, which she lost to Anne Bancroft for The Miracle Worker. Sadly, had Bette won this award she would’ve made Academy Award history as the first actress to receive three best actress Oscars. According to IMDb, “It was the general feeling among Academy voters that while Davis was superb, the movie itself was little better than a potboiler exploitation film, the kind that doesn’t deserve the recognition that an Oscar would give it.” The film, however, earned four other nominations. Newcomer Victor Buono was nominated in the supporting actor category for his role as Edwin, and the film was nominated for it’s cinematography, costume design, and sound. The only category it won was costume design. A fair win, because as previously stated, some of Bette Davis’ childlike costumes were terrifying! In the photo below you can see her as child standing next to her grown-up self. It gives me the creeps just looking at it.

The film was also listed as #63 on AFI’s list of 100 Years…100 Thrills, and Baby Jane Hudson was #44 on the list of AFI’s 100 Years…100 Heroes & Villains.

Bette & Joan: Rivals on and Off the Screen

“You mean all this time we could have been friends?” – Jane –

Something interesting to note about this film is the way in which the real off-screen rivalry between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford must’ve played into the perfection of their twisted sisterly rivalry on screen. I didn’t know this before watching the film, but the two supposedly hated one another. If you visit Bette Davis’ IMDb page, you’ll find quote after quote about her dislike of Joan. According to the site:

“Joan Crawford and Davis had feuded for years. During the making of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962), Bette had a Coca-Cola machine installed on the set due to Crawford’s affiliation with Pepsi (she was the widow of Pepsi’s CEO). Joan got her revenge by putting weights in her pockets when Davis had to drag her across the floor during certain scenes.”

In a quote from Bette about working with Joan on the film she says:

“We were polite to each other – all the social amenities, ‘Good morning, Joan’ and ‘Good Morning, Bette’ crap – and thank God we weren’t playing roles where we had to like each other. But people forget that our big scenes were alone – just the camera was on me or her. No actresses on earth are as different as we are, all the way down the line. Yet what we do works. It’s so strange, this acting business. It comes from inside. She was always so damn proper. She sent thank you notes for thank you notes. I screamed when I found out she signed autographs: ‘Bless you, Joan Crawford.’”

Why did Bette hate Joan, though? From what I read it sounds as if her dislike stemmed from Joan’s constant need to be in character. Bette claims that off-screen she was herself, while on-screen she became whatever the character required. Whereas, Joan was always playing up what Bette regarded as the character of Joan Crawford. Was this true, or not? Hard to say. Odds are that Bette and Joan hated one another (if they did hate one another) because they were just too darn similar. For instance, after Joan’s daughter wrote the deprecating book about her mother titled, Mommy Dearest, Bette’s daughter went on to write a similar book. Both daughters apparently found something in their mothers to detest. Perhaps it was also a bit of jealousy that caused the stars to feud, or at least caused rumors of the feud. While both carried equal amounts of star power, Bette was a trained actress dedicated to her roles, while Joan was the beautiful actress who played into her image as a “star.” They made films for rival studios MGM and Warner Brothers for years, then Joan jumped over to Warner Brothers where Bette was. In an interview from 1987, which you can watch at the link below, Bette claims the two women got along just fine. Whether that’s true or not is another question, but in 1987 all seemed to have been well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4Y9B9PJnW8

In another interview, Joan Crawford talks about her time working on What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? She talks briefly about her feud with Bette, and gives a few more interesting insights into the making of the film.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1QmhRRcT64&feature=related

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
This was an all-around group effort of awesomeness. Bette Davis giving an amazing performance is a no-brainer. Joan Crawford’s performance, though, is not to be ignored. If we hadn’t believed 100% in her fear, then the film would’ve been cheesier than it was terrifying. No, she deserves a fair amount of credit for her fabulous performance as well. Director Robert Aldrich was spot-on in the way in which he builds up the horror and the characters. He’s definitely a director I want to look into now. Here’s a nice behind-the-scenes gem I found about him and the making of the film.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nY5hCBb48O8

Why I watched this film in the first place?
Believe it or not, my mom actually recommended this to me when I mentioned I was planning on watching scary movies this month. It was the first thing she thought of. I guess it scared her so much as a young teenager, that she wanted to share in the terror. Thanks Mom.

If you liked this, you might also like:
Okay, so this falls into that weird niche of horror like Psycho or The Orphanage (which isn’t an old movie, but one that I’d highly recommend) where it’s the freaky images that stick with you more than anything else. It holds up its end of suspense as well just like Rear Window or the original House of Wax. If you liked Bette Davis in this and aren’t familiar with her, please find a copy of All About Eve to watch right now, then watch anything else by her and enjoy. If you like the idea of fallen celebrities, then Hollywood has no shortage of great films about that. Amongst those I’ve seen Sunset Boulevard and Grey Gardens are the best. All About Eve dances around that same topic as well.

Final verdict – in claps
You may clap as Baby Jane dances around in circles at the beach, perhaps for the last time. She’ll think you’re clapping for her, when in reality you’re clapping at the sheer genius behind making this film seem so darn creepy and real.

Related articles

• A Look Back at Bette Davis’s Beauty Evolution (bellasugar.com)
• Multiple Academy Award Best Actress Winners – Part I (cinemaroll.com)

Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Pod People, Pop Culture, and The Cold War

For the month of October I plan on joining the masses who are celebrating Halloween by watching a few great horror films. I suppose, then, it’s intriguing that I chose Invasion of the Body Snatchers as my first October movie. Am I becoming a pod person by celebrating with such conformity? I’ll never tell. What I will tell is that this month I’ll be reviewing “horror” films of yore, which let’s be honest is probably more my pace than horror films of…now. 

“At first glance, everything looked the same. It wasn’t.
Something evil had taken possession of the town.” – Dr. Miles Bennell –

In Invasion of the Body Snatchers, a small-town doctor, Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy), returns home to find people behaving extremely strange. On the surface everyone looks normal, but patients are making appointments with the doctor only to cancel or not show up at all. The people he does talk with claim their family members aren’t their family members, and as much as some of us (not me) might want that to be the case with some of our own family members, in this town it just might be true. Something altogether creepy is taking over, and Bennell and his old “friend” Becky Driscoll (Dana Wynter) are the only two left to fight off the invasion of well…the body snatchers.

You can watch the trailer here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFnSxeDfENk

Based on the novel The Body Snatchers by Jack Finney, this Sci Fi/horror classic ranked number nine on AFI’s list of best science fiction films as well as making number 47 on their 100 Years…100 Thrills list. The film was also ranked on lists by Time magazine, The Chicago Film Critics Association, and on Bravo’s 100 Scariest Movie Moments. Do I agree that it deserves these listings? Why yes, I do.

What first  struck me was the formality of it all; the doctor and his nurse casually remarking on the strangeness of the town, and Becky in her polka-dot skirt, full of hope, and the promise of a new beginning. Of course, that only lasts so long. Once the doctor’s friend Jack finds a mysterious body in his house, it goes from psychological thrill to full-on freaky pretty quickly. Yet, there’s still this fifties normalcy about it. It’s not a gruesome film by any means, nor is it violent, or even that scary. What is scary is the entire concept of the film. Having your body taken over by an alien look-alike growing in a giant pod — that’s terrifying. Good gracious is that terrifying! Whether by aliens, brainwashing, or some other means, the idea that someone could take you over at any moment is downright creepy.

 “Sick people who couldn’t wait to see me, then suddenly were perfectly all right. A boy who said his mother wasn’t his mother. A woman who said her uncle wasn’t her uncle.” – Dr. Miles Bennell

No wonder, then, that this film lives on and on… and on through the many pop culture references it’s acquired over the years. TV episode titles like“Invasion of the Mork Snatchers” from Mork and Mindy and “Invasion of the Psychologist Snatchers” from Family Ties pay obvious homage to the film. Heck, even the Muppet Babies cartoon referenced the movie with season four’s  episode, “Invasion of the Muppet Snackers.” However, clever titles aren’t the only way in which the film is referenced. I was first drawn to the movie based on an allusion made in my all-time favorite show Gilmore Girls. In this reference one of the main characters, Lorelai, calls her father “Pod Grandpa” because he’s in an unusually good mood. As it turns out, there was an earlier reference to the film in which Luke tells an annoying town member, “Guess my pod is defective.” In looking for these references I found a decent list of other pop culture shout-outs to the movie that spanned from Cheers to Seinfeld and Dharma and Greg to Golden Girls. Even recent episodes of The Big Bang Theory have alluded to the movie. In one scene Sheldon notes “the Body Snatchers Clause” of his friendship with Leonard. You can check out the full list of pop culture references here. I’m certain it’s not complete, but it’s definitely entertaining.

Why all of the references you might wonder? I mean as far as iconic pop culture films, only a few people I know have even seen it. Yet, there they are; allusion after allusion to pods, body snatching, and worst of all…the pod people themselves! I’d suggest that it’s partly tongue-in-cheek and partly based on a real fear of conformity, whether by mysterious soul-sucker, peer pressure, or some other means. I mean, is there any greater insult than being accused of being a pod person? I suppose amongst the artistic community, from which these references stem (not pod stems, mind you), then this really would be the worst thing to be called. Sound the alarms! I’ve turned into everyone else! The pod people must be to blame!
 

Ah yes, that fear of conformity. The fear of someone or something draining away all of our original thought, emotion, and belief and leaving a shell of something that cares for little beyond survival. Now what on earth would cause such a fear in 1956?

“Look, you fools, you’re in danger! Can’t you see? They’re after you! They’re after all of us! Our wives, our children, everyone! They’re here already! You’re next!” – Dr. Miles Bennell

Sound like anyone you know? I sure hope not. Does it sound like Senator McCarthy, though? I’d say so. Perhaps, it was the Cold War film history course I took in college that caused my brain to automatically ding “Red Scare” when it heard the above quote. Perhaps, it was the documentary I watched with Forbidden Planet about early Sci Fi and the Cold War. Perhaps, I too am a pod person, who can no longer separate what I’ve been told from what I believe. Let’s toss out that last option for now, and contemplate the first two.

I was pleased that with a quick Google search I found others who’d written, often passionately, about the cold war and McCarthy references in the film. Look Mom, I did learn something in school! What’s interesting is there seems to be some debate as to whether the body snatchers represent the communists or McCarthy. Was the film telling us to be scared of those evil commies who’re coming to snatch our souls away and make us just like everyone else, or were we to be scared of McCarthy and the government who were filling us with the fear to conform or be accused of being a communist? The debate rolls on with that one. Of course, according to the director and writers, they weren’t making a statement at all.

In the film’s Wikipedia entry (I know, I’m quoting Wikipedia), the writer references an interview with actor Kevin McCarthy (no connection to the senator – I don’t think). McCarthy claims to have seen no political references in the film at all. McCarthy’s interviewer also claimed to have spoken with the original author Jack Finney, who also denied any political undertones. Riiiight…

In the article “Invasion of the Body Snatchers: A Tale of Our Times” by John W. Whitehead, director Don Siegel is also said to have denied the political undertones of the films. He sees the story more as a battle against technological advances that are leading people to become “pods”, then as a statement about McCarthyism. In a quote from the article he says:

People are pods. Many of my associates are certainly pods. They have no feelings. They exist, breathe, sleep. To be a pod means that you have no passion, no anger, the spark has left you..of course, there’s a very strong case for being a pod. These pods, who get rid of pain, ill-health and mental disturbances are, in a sense, doing good. It happens to leave you in a very dull world but that, by the way, is the world that most of us live in…People are becoming vegetables. I don’t know what the answer is except an awareness of it. That’s what makes a picture like Invasion of the Body Snatchers important.

Yes, and that is what keeps it important, is it not? McCarthyism or not, the film has a very clear theme about holding tight to your individualism. Perhaps, we should be careful. We’ve already become iPod people, how much longer until we turn full-on pod? Don’t fall asleep dear reader, or you just might wake up devoid of all emotion, and thought. You just might wake up and no longer wish to read my blog, and then what would I do? It’s not really that simple, though, is it? Fall asleep and become someone else? I suppose only if your town is invaded by alien pods. I think I’ll dress as a pod person for Halloween. It’s a great costume. I get to be myself, and act like someone else. No one will suspect a thing. Or…not.

“In my practice, I’ve seen how people have allowed their humanity to drain away. Only it happened slowly instead of all at once. They didn’t seem to mind… All of us – a little bit – we harden our hearts, grow callous. Only when we have to fight to stay human do we realize how precious it is to us, how dear.” – Dr. Miles Bennell –

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
I think the relatively unknown actors really helped bring out the greatness in this film. Because we didn’t know them, they seemed like ordinary people, which helped us believe that they were. For the most part, they did a great job. The voiceover strung throughout by Dr. Bennell moves the story forward, and really creates a sympathy for his plight. It works.

Why I watched this film in the first place?
My reason is three-fold. 1. I found it on the shelf at the library and that reminded me of… 2. I’d heard so many pop culture references to it that I decided it was time to see what it was all about. Finally: 3. I decided to review horror movies for the month of October, thus, it fit the bill…at least mostly.

If you liked this, you might also like:
The cool thing about this flick is that it’s just as much horror as it is Sci Fi. If you liked the style of this, and can bear a bit of a more disturbing horror film, then check out the original Night of the Living Dead...so creepy! If that seems like a bit much, and perhaps it will be, then stick to Hitchcock for horror. He has the same polite, slowly building, and obviously brilliant mannerism to his films. For a lesser known Hitchcock thrill I’d check out Shadow of a Doubt. If you haven’t seen Psycho, though, start there. I’m sure there are some other great Sci Fi films from this era as well, but I’m still finding them.

Final verdict – in claps
You may clap, then be thankful that you can still show your opinion through clapping. Thus, have not been transformed into a pod person…yet.

Related articles and a few lists of other people’s favorite classic horror films

• ArtsBeat: Critics’ Picks Video: ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ (artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com)
• Scariest Black and White Horror Films
• Classic Movies for Halloween
• Classic Horror Movies
  

“Alright, so it’s impossible. How long will it take?” – Forbidden Planet, Robby the Robot, and 98 Questionable Minutes in Film History

Five years after The Day the Earth Stood Still, and four years before The Time Machine, MGM Studios took on their first Sci Fi film, Forbidden Planet. Initially conceived as a low-budget B-movie, producers Allen Adler and Irving Block decided their idea was bigger than the two of them and pitched it to MGM. Oddly enough, MGM accepted their pitch. I say oddly enough, because I can’t for the life of me figure out this film’s appeal. A thousand geeks and nerds across the nation probably just gasped in disgust at me. Wait, I take it back; I don’t have nearly that many readers… yet.

 “There’s something funny down there Skipper!” – Jerry –

What starts out as a jaunt through space for Commander John J. Adams (Leslie Nielsen) and his crew, ends with monstrous results. Their mission is to check on the status of a research team sent to the planet Altair-4 twenty years ago. Why it took twenty years to check on the group of scientists is beyond me. In any case, upon landing Adams and his team quickly discover Edward Morbius P.H.D. (Walter Pidgeon) and his daughter Altaira (Anne Francis) to be the sole survivors of the team. Aside from their servant, Robby the Robot (who was supposedly built by Morbius), there doesn’t seem to be much sign of civilization. It seems a dark presence killed off Morbius’ team long ago, but where is it now? Will it come back? How does Morbius have a daughter? Why can she tame tigers? What is Morbius hiding? And who are the Krell? Some of these questions will be answered in the film, others will never make sense; watcher beware. If you’re still interested, though, here’s the trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEj8bZo9IGA

Ultimately, I found this film to be more than a little cheesy, and far from entertaining. In a text message to my cousin I said, “It’s like Lost in Space, only not funny.” I had such high expectations for Robby the Robot too. What with the flat, unlikable characters, and the confounding and unlikely mysteries revealed by Morbius, you can’t help but wonder if the film would’ve been better had the film been all about Robby. He was, by far, the most interesting member of the cast. I particularly enjoyed when he told the spoiled, clueless, and slightly suspicious Altaira that it would take him a week to grow the “star sapphires” that she wanted on her dress that she’d asked him to create by morning. Suck it Altaira!

What else can I possibly say beyond: This time you really can read a movie by it’s cover. It looks just as ridiculous as it really ends up being. There’s word that it’s based loosely on Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Perhaps, this would be a better film if I knew The Tempest. Perhaps we will never know.

Looking at IMDB, however, I see that many people who remember seeing it as a kid absolutely loved it. One viewer from 1956 said simply. “I was 9…it scared the crap out of me… I LOVED it.” Another film buff said, “I saw it in 1956 at age 7 as well. Scared me to death. Somewhere I read that the story was based on Shakespeare’s “The Tempest.” The memory of that movie has stayed with me a long time!” I guess it all depends on your point of view. It seems that most of the people who saw the film when they were young were extremely frightened, entertained, and impressed by the movie. Who amongst us can’t relate? When I was a kid I thought The Neverending Storywas the best thing since fresh-off-the fryer doughnuts. I watched it a few years ago, and it really wasn’t as deep as it seemed then. At the time, though, the “Nothing” scared me just as much as the monster in Forbidden Planet scared these viewers. 

“Others. But there are no others, Commander. Before the first year was out, they had all, every man and woman succumbed to a sort of planetary force here. Some dark, terrible, incomprehensible force.”- Morbius –

Though this was by all (or at least most) accounts a campy B-movie even against it’s best intentions, I can’t disregard the heroics in special effects and sound design that must’ve been top-notch at the time. According to a write-up by Turner Classic Movies, the film had a budget that started out at $1 million and eventually rose to almost double that amount. MGM studios used a 10,000 foot circular painting as a backdrop for the film, and a beautiful backdrop at that. One can’t help but be awe-stricken by the detailed painting that went into such backdrops of the time. Equally as intricate was Robby the Robot, who at 6 ft. 11 inches required a person inside manning the controls as well as outside controls. Apparently this didn’t keep Robby from toppling over on several occasions, though, leading to the joke that Robby was a drunk. According to a documentary about Robby the Robot from the DVD’s bonus material, MGM actually promoted Robby as a “real” robot. Many people didn’t know until much later that there was actually a man inside running the controls. That said, Robby still cost the studio around $100,000 and used airplane parts put together by some of Lockheed’s most talented machinists. Though he was large and loud, he was still unlike any other robot created at the time, and went on to gain celebrity status. He even got his own second movie, The Invisible Boy, and several cameos years later in other films (i.e. Gremlins). In another documentary about early Sci Fi that came with the DVD, Steven Spielberg is certain in an interview that George Lucas must’ve been inspired by Robby the Robot to create C3P0’s character. Lucas however claims that he was influenced more by Metropolis for 3P0’s character, than by Robby. Of course that doesn’t explain why both robot’s deliver a similar line about speaking many languages. I’m just saying…

“If you do not speak English, I am at your disposal with 187 other languages along with their various dialects and sub-tongues.” – Robby the Robot

Also notable effects-wise is the murderous monster, which appears as a creepy outline of a terrible creature. The monster was actually created by Disney animators who specialized in such effects, and were allowed to temporarily work on the MGM film. Another IMDB viewer said, “I saw it in 1956, at the Fox Theater in Redondo Beach, CA. I’ll never forget the effect of the Id monster breaking into the camp.”

All of these powers combined with the spaceship and underground city designs led to the film’s nomination for Best special effects in the 1956 Academy Awards. In the same DVD documentary that featured Lucas and Spielberg, Ridley Scott claims that the spaceship set, “Could’ve been Frank Sinatra’s living room.” The film didn’t win the award for best special effects; it lost to The Ten Commandments.

The score for the film is also quite interesting. Today we hear the cheesy theremin soundtrack and sound effects and giggle, or as the case may be, cringe. I mean it’s the kind of noise that frightens cats…mine included. At the time, however, creating an entire film score with purely electronic music was relatively unheard of. Composers Louis and Bebe Barron used only electronically generated sounds to make the eerie soundtrack, which paved the way for new ways of looking at film scoring. According to the TCM write-up on Forbidden Planet executives at MGM were nervous about the strange score, and decided to present a sneak preview of the unfinished film to see how the audience would react to this bizarre new style. The response was so positive, that MGM didn’t even allow the composers or editors to polish off the film.

“Guilty! Guilty! My evil self is at that door, and I have no power to stop it!” – Morbius –

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
Well, we can’t blame the robot. He did his best. I blame the writers and the producers for coming up with something so silly.

Is it re-watchable?
Simply stated; no. I would probably find some Lost in Space re-runs instead.

Why I watched this film in the first place?
I was looking for an old Sci Fi film to check out, namely because I don’t think I’ve seen many. I loved The Day the Earth Stood Still, so I thought surely there’d be other early Sci Fi films that were just as good. SOMEONE recommended this one to me.

If you liked this, you might also like:
Okay, so this is going to sound strange, but if you liked this I’d actually “recommend” The Brain that Wouldn’t Die. It was equally bizarre, but actually more entertaining, if you ask me. I’d also recommend, if this isn’t obvious, The Day the Earth Stood Still, because once you’ve seen Robby the Robot, you probably need to make sure you see Gort. Also, it’s a far better movie. I guess if you liked this, though, there are lots of other B-movies that you’ll really enjoy. I couldn’t say.

Final verdict – in claps
You may not clap, but you might cringe, roll your eyes, or simply stare in disbelief wondering what crazy thing the characters could possibly say next.

Related articles

• ‘Forbidden Planet’ artists talk sci-fi classic and the sounds of space (herocomplex.latimes.com)
• A Night at the Opera, the Marx Brothers, and Two Hard-boiled Eggs *Honk*… Make that Three Hard-boiled Eggs (youmayclap.wordpress.com)

A Night at the Opera, the Marx Brothers, and Two Hard-boiled Eggs *Honk*… Make that Three Hard-boiled Eggs

The best part about great comedy is that it lasts, and lasts…and lasts. Good comedy holds up over time; it makes a viewer today laugh just as much as it made someone laugh in say, 1935. It forces laughter at the same old jokes days, weeks, months and years later. Sometimes it’s even funnier days, weeks, months, or years later. Growing up in the 80’s, I saw very few of the 80’s comedies that everyone else saw 10 times before they turned 12. Seeing them for the first time twenty years after their release just isn’t the same. Some of them don’t hold up. I doubt some of today’s movies will hold up. The Marx Brothers hold up.
 

“Of course, that’s why I’m sitting here with you. Because you remind me of you. Your eyes, your throat, your lips! Everything about you reminds me of you. Except you.” – Otis B. Driftwood 

Otis B. Driftwood (Grouch Marx) is hoping to make money from the perfect business deal with the rich Mrs. Claypool (Margaret Dumont). Rosa (Kitty Carlisle) and Ricardo (Allan Jones) are opera singers in love; the only problem is that Rosa is a star, and Ricardo is still an unknown talent. Lassparri (Walter Woolf King) is a snobbish tenor, attempting to claim Rosa for his own. Fiorello (Chico Marx) is a piano player, and friend of Ricardo. Tomasso (Harpo Marx) is the mute who’s just sort of always around. Herman Gottlieb (Sig Ruman) is the manager of the New York Opera Company who signs Lassparri for his first American opera. Naturally, Lassparri brings Rosa along, leaving her lovesick for Ricardo who’s been left behind…or so we think. Meanwhile, thinking Ricardo is the best opera singer in the world (no thanks to Chico Marx’s character Fiorello) Groucho er Otis B. Driftwood has “signed” him to become an opera singer in America. Driftwood and Gottlieb battle for Mrs. Claypool’s money and attention by setting sail with their respective talents for New York. There is baffling banter, happenstantial humor, and gags aplenty both aboard the ship and on the opera stage as Groucho, Chico, and Harpo cause their traditional chaos. This time, though, they’re doing it for their friend Ricardo to ensure that he gets to steal the show, and the girl.

Otis B. Driftwood: All right, I’ll read it to you. Can you hear?
Fiorello: I haven’t heard anything yet. Did you say anything?
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, I haven’t said anything worth hearing
Fiorello: That’s why I didn’t hear anything
Otis B. Driftwood: Well, that’s why I didn’t say anything.

It has come to my attention that I’ve rambled on quite a bit in my last several blogs, so I’m going to work on brevity this time. I could sit here and write all about vaudeville comedians, or how humor has changed over the years, or question whether it has. Then again, I could just let this film stand on its own. After all, what are moves if not entertainment? They make us think sometimes, they make us sit on the edges of our seats other times, and sometimes they just make us laugh. This made me laugh. It will probably make you laugh too. There is little reason, in this case, for me to dwell on why. What I will do is give a bit of insight into The Marx Brothers themselves.

This film featured Groucho, Harpo, and Chico Marx. In this day and age, I don’t think it’s beyond reason to assume that almost everyone knows who Groucho is, and very few would really recognize the others if he weren’t also present. Is that fair? There were two other Marx brothers; and they were in fact brothers. Zeppo Marx starred in several earlier Marx Brothers films, but unlike his brothers he always played the role of the dramatic character. He dropped out of the comedy team, because he got tired of playing roles he believed to be beneath his talent; he wanted to be funny too. There was also Gummo Marx, who was never in a Marx Brothers movie, but was a part of their vaudeville team. According to a documentary that came as a special feature on the DVD of A Night at the Opera, the brothers nicknames all had an “o” at the end, because in the nineteen teens nicknames that ended in “o” were popular. Thus, Adolph Marx became Harpo Marx, because he played the harp beautifully. Yes, that was really him playing the harp and piano in the movie. Leonard Marx became Chico Marx, because he was a girl chaser; he chased the chicks. Julius Marx became Groucho Marx either because he was a grouch or because he was often seen carrying a grouch bag, which was a small bag you wore around your neck to carry money. According to a Wikipedia entry that quotes Groucho live at Carnegie Hall, when asked to discuss the origin of his brothers names he got to his own and said,”My name, of course, I never did understand.”

Each brother had his own distinct character that was carried throughout all of the Marx Brothers films. Chico talked with an accent that wasn’t quite Italian and played dumb. Harpo never spoke and often used clown and pantomime acts. He usually played the harp at some point in the films as well. Groucho, of course, wore the famed mustache and eyebrows, wiggled his cigar, walked with a stoops, and offered up rapid-fire dialogue of the sort you’ll see in A Night at the Opera. According to the documentary on the DVD, The Marx Brothers launched a new style of comedy for the time. Comedy pre-Marx was full of crazy antics, but it was motivated craziness. The Marx, on the other hand, just did amusing things for the sake of amusement. There a scene in A Night at the Opera, for instance, when the orchestra begins playing “Take me Out to the Ball Game” and Groucho starts to sell peanuts in the aisle. Then, Chico pitches a ball to Harpo, who hits it with a violin. It’s ridiculous; it’s unmotivated, and it’s fantastic! You can watch it here if you’d like:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCgaZnnHB1I

In the earlier part of their career the Marx adapted many of their vaudeville stage routines to film. It’s my understanding that these films were funny, but lacked the dramatic storyline of their later films such as A Night at the Opera. Because of this, one of their now best-known works, Duck Soup, initially failed at the box office. This is almost impossible for me to imagine. As the only other Marx Brothers film I’ve seen, I can say with all certainty that it’s hilarious. We watched it as part of a black and white movie night in college, and everyone in the room was rolling with laughter the entire time. It’s number five on AFI’s list of 100 Years…100 Laughs. A Night at the Opera, by the way, is listed as number 12. I absolutely agree that Duck Soup is funnier, though sitting here now a few days after watching A Night at the Opera, I think I’m laughing more at the humorous moments than I was at the time. Yes, they’re just that memorable. But wait…what were we talking about. Oh yes, so after Duck Soup initially failed at the box office, the Marx switched to MGM studios under the guidance of producer Irving Thalberg. It was Thalberg that introduced The Marx Brothers to the idea of adding a dramatic storyline to their humorous style. He gave them original stories, and worked their antics into a more structured plotline. This combination of drama and silliness, according to the documentary, was more in line with the tastes of the time than the Marx’s former style.

Another addition that Thalberg made to the Marx’s normal film structure was to add impressive and sweeping musical numbers. This was MGM’s style at the time, and it shows in scenes like the one where Chico and Harpo are involved in a huge song and dance party after their last dinner on the ship. There was something about this scene that reminded me exactly of the scene from Titanic with the singing and dancing in the ship’s lower quarters. Of course, Harpo wasn’t there playing his harp; that was something truly unique. In any case, A Night at the Opera, became a huge success, and according to the DVD case: “Many say this is the best Marx Brothers movie.” You can judge that one for yourself.

Otis B. Driftwood: You didn’t happen to see my suit in there, did you?
Fiorello: Yeah. It was taking up too much room, so we sold it.
Otis B. Driftwood: Did you get anything for it?
Fiorello: Uh…dollar forty.
Otis B. Driftwood: That’s my suit all right

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
I think this is obvious. The film is funny, because The Marx Brothers are hilarious. The film was a success because MGM took a simple dramatic story based around the very serious opera, and added Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and all of the hijinks they brought along for the ride…literally.

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
I think this is obvious. The film is funny, because The Marx Brothers are hilarious. The film was a success because MGM took a simple dramatic story based around the very serious opera, and added Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and all of the hijinks they brought along for the ride…literally.

Otis B. Driftwood: It’s all right, that’s in every contract. That’s what they call a sanity clause
Fiorello: You can’t fool me! There ain’t no Sanity Claus!

Is it re-watchable?
No, no, don’t watch this again, unless you want to laugh even harder the second time. I mean it might be a health risk…

 “Last night, I counted five thousand sheep in those three beds, so I had to have another bed to sleep in. You wouldn’t want me to sleep with the sheep, would you?”

Why I watched this film in the first place?
Once again I was browsing the library shelves, and picked up a random pile of old movies. Knowing that I’d only seen one other Marx Brothers film, I picked this one up. Knowing I was in more of a comedy mood, than an Invasion of the Body Snatchers mood, I went with the Marx Brothers.

If you liked this, you might also like:
As previously mentioned, Duck Soup was hilarious. My guess is that most Marx Brothers movies are darn funny and worth watching, though. My grandpa had almost all of them, which is good enough for me. If you like The Marx Brothers  you might like some films by the other great comedy teams too, such as oh I dunno…Abbott & Costello. If I’m remembering correctly, I found every Abbott & Costello movie with the words “meet the” in the title to be particularly funny. It occurs to me that I was about to say that you might also like Laurel & Hardy films, and while that is probably true, looking at the titles I don’t know which if any I’ve actually seen. This is bothersome. I suppose Babes in Toyland both counts, and doesn’t count. Huh.

Final verdict – in claps
Why clap when you can start swinging from the rafters at an opera? Go all out on this one. Okay, maybe you shouldn’t actually try that, so… You most definitely may clap, but put on your Groucho mustache glasses first. It’ll be great!

Otis B. Driftwood: It’s all right, that’s in every contract. That’s what they call a sanity clause
Fiorello: You can’t fool me! There ain’t no Sanity Claus!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum: Why it’s a funnier phrase than a film. Buster Keaton’s last Hurrah!

At 33 minutes in, my notes say quite simply, “This is HORRIBLE!” I suppose that just about sums up my disappointment with A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Had I not already committed myself to writing this review, than I may not have seen it all way through. It quite nearly made the VERY short list of films I could not finish, which includes Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Romance and Cigarettes. It absolutely makes the list of the films I wish I hadn’t finished; Happy-Go-Lucky, The Squid and the Whale, Blue, Kiss Me Kate, Burn After Reading, etc.

Things I found more entertaining than giving this film my full attention:

• Words with Friends
• Sudoku
• Looking up photos for this blog entry
• Making a bowl of ice cream (almond slivers make a surprisingly great topping)
• Contemplating my next film choice
• Doodling
• Watching the cat sleep

There’s something for everyone on comedy tonight, except for me, I suppose. But, the blog must go on.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum stars Zero Mostel as Pseudolus. He also played this role in the Broadway version of the film, winning a Tony for his efforts. Set in ancient Rome, Pseudolus (borrowed from a Roman play by the same name) is the slave of the Roman senator, Senex (Michael Hordern) and his wife Domina (Patricia Jessel). Pseudolus is known for his witty, lying, cheating, and all-around sneaky antics. Senex and Domina leave their grown son, Hero (Michael Crawford), alone and in the care of their trusted slave Hysterium (Jack Gilford). However, in an effort to win his own freedom, Pseudolus decides to help Hero buy the “girl next door” (whom he adores) from the “dealer of flesh,” Marcus Lycus (Phil Silvers). Meanwhile, Lycus has already promised her to the evil Captain Miles Gloriosus (Leon Greene), who is on the rampage when he cannot find his bride. Then there is the old, half-blind man Erronius (Buster Keaton) who has just returned home after a long and fruitless search for his lost children, who were kidnapped by pirates when they were young. Of course, amidst the cluster, Hero’s parents return home (separately) adding to the comedic cover-up of Hero’s love for the slave girl. If this doesn’t sound like chaos, I’m not sure what chaos is. Who knew ancient Rome could be so ridiculous. If the sexual objectification of women and the dumbification of society is your cup of tea, then this is the film for you. Oh? Did I actually just type that?

Pseudolus: I don’t want to spoil your day
Hysterium: How can you spoil a disaster?

Alright, alright, so even though I hated this movie I’m going to give it at least a few props. First off, the character names are hilarious. Some of them are obvious like Hero, Hysterium, and Erronius (latin for wrong). Then there are the names Senex (old man or senile), Domina (mistress), and Gloriosus (braggart). One can’t help but chuckle at these names, even if that’s where the laughter stops. True, the chariot chase at the end was probably a slapstick-lovers delight, but I was so bored by the time the chariots started tearing across the screen that I was barely watching anymore. So what is it about this play, turned film, that had audiences laughing through it’s original 964 Broadway performances, additional runs, and a movie? I pulled a few old reviews to find out, because obviously I’ve missed something.

According to the New York Times Review from 1966, Vincent Canby states simply at the end of his first paragraph, “Here, at last, is a motion-picture spectacle for old men of all ages.” He goes on with mixed feelings about the film’s execution by Director Richard Lester (who directed two Beatles films, and went on to direct Superman II and III).

It is hard to decide whether Mr. Lester has gone too far, or not far enough, in translating into film terms the carefully calculated nonsense originally conceived for the theater. He’s done a lot of tricky things — with his penchant for quick cutting and juxtaposition of absurd images — but there are times when this style seems oddly at variance with the basic material, which is roughly 2,000 years older than the motion-picture camera.

I’m gathering from Canby’s review that he had mixed emotions towards the film. It sounded as if he wanted to enjoy it based on the theatrical success of the play, but the film fell short of his hopes.

Of the play itself, an article in the Winnipeg Free Press (of all papers)  from July 13, 1963 by Christopher Dafoe describes the spectacle.

 A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum asks no more of the beholder (or the reader) than a broad mind, an easy nature and the sort of deep, rolling laughter that comes from the belly…The play is like a beloved old scrapbook containing the remembered jokes and pratfalls of a thousand drunken years of theatre. All the old favorites are here: the dirty old men, the sleeping potion that turns out to be a love philtre…the long lost children, the case of mistaken identity in which an old man attempts to have a last fling with a young virgin who turns out to be a man in disguise…The play, of course, has its wild chase and the stage is full of nearly naked courtesans, puffing soldiers and giggling eunuchs. Nothing, as you can imagine, has been left to the imagination. Nobody asks you to think. You just sit there like Gargantua (the giant not the ape) and laugh. And there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?

It seems, then, that the appeal of the play, according to Dafoe, was not to think. Here, I believe we’ve reached my problem with this type of comedy. I enjoy thinking. Comedy that makes me think is much funnier to me, than comedy that doesn’t. Okay, okay, there’s always room for slapstick, but slapstick with heart. The type of slapstick farcetastic foolery presented in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum is merely as the New York Times reviewer so lightly put, “A motion-picture spectacle for old men of all ages.”

 Even today, though, 74% of people on Rotten Tomatoes liked it, with reviews ranging from, “This is freakin’ hilarious,” to “Humorous to an extent, but lacking the bang you might expect from a big screen musical.” I say, decide for yourself. Your sense of humor might differ from mine. In fact, it probably does. Though if you’ve latched on to my particular type of reviews, maybe it doesn’t, and we will glide happily through the same pages of film interests and disinterests. It’s really hard to say.

Pseudolus/Soothsayer: How many geese in a gaggle?
Erronius: At least seven
Pseudolus/Soothsayer: Seven! Before I say this sooth again, you must run seven times around the seven hills of Rome.

Regardless of what other reviewers may have said, I still didn’t enjoy this movie. The only discernible haha moment for me was the arrival of the late great Buster Keaton on set as Erronius. This was Keaton’s last appearance on film. As I understand it, he was already quite ill with the same lung cancer that ultimately took his life. Because of this, he had a stunt double that did most of the running scenes for him in the film. Keaton, the slapstick star of the silent era, wrote, directed, and starred in some of the most fun, imaginative, and well-crafted films of the silent age. His expressiveness, fantastical stunts, and all-around likeability on film has left an incredible mark on the history of the craft. It was both remarkable, and saddening to see him romp about in his final role. As the New York Times Reviewer states:

A funny but inevitably sad note is struck by the appearance of the late Buster Keaton, as a myopic old man searching for his children, stolen years ago by pirates. He literally runs through the film as a sight gag. “A Funny Thing,” however, is a fitting vehicle for the departure of a fine old clown.

Why did it have to be this film, though? The way he acted out this role reminded me of Barney Fife from The Andy Griffith Show for some reason. Perhaps, there was just something about his voice that made me think of Don Knotts. Come to think of it, though, I’ve never heard him talk before. The only other time I’ve seen Keaton out of the silent era was in an episode of The Twilight Zone, but even then the part I saw was silent. In any case, Keaton lives up to the high standards of comedy that he’d long ago set. I love when he’s running about during the chariot chase at the end, and accidentally crashes into a tree. There’s word that it might actually have been an unintentional act of comedic genius on Keaton’s part — one final nod, if you will, to the pure, calculated, and honest humor that he brought with him through decades of stage and film history. Though the rest of the cast must’ve pulled off their roles in an equally amusing manner to win over audiences that aren’t me, in my opinion his was the only character of interest. But then, maybe it was just the fact that he was searching for infants stolen by pirates…in ancient Rome!  You can enjoy the longest of the Buster Keaton scenes, and perhaps the best scene from the entire film, here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPds0-hZ1tM

Who’s to blame/thank for the film’s greatness or lack there of?
I will arguably agree that there was some fine acting in the film, and Zero Mostel has all of the makings of a great comedian. The other actors and actresses in the film also performed their roles quite well, and I don’t fault any of them for this movie being a stinker.  I think I just hated the all-around script, concept, and type of humor. It didn’t appeal to me; pure and simple. There are all types of humor, and this wasn’t my type. I blame the type of humor for my dislike; nothing more.

Is it re-watchable?
I won’t be re-watching it; no. If you happen to find it amusing, however, I can see why you’d want to watch it again. Amusing things are always worth watching over and over to the viewer who finds them to be humorous. If you like it, who am I to tell you not to re-watch it? If you don’t like it, throw it in the junker list like me.

Why I watched this film in the first place?
I’d seen this film title in my grandpa’s collection many, many years ago, and the amusing title stuck with me. Often, I find myself wanting to say things like, “A funny thing happened on the way to the fall,” or “A funny thing happened on the way to the freeway,” but I never used it out loud. It didn’t seem right without having seen the film or the play. That said, I suppose I watched it based on it’s funny title alone. The good news is that in my research I discovered that the play’s title was not the origin of the phrase. A funny thing happned on the way to the theatre, was a common phrase used by vaudville actors. I suppose that means I can go ahead and use the phrase now if I’d like.

If you liked this, you might also like:
I have no idea what you’d like if you liked this, because I don’t like anything like this. I suppose I would put the fast-paced, slapstick, period-set type of comedy to battle with any number of Mel Brooks‘ films. You might also like Monty Python films. Those are my best comparisons, though, most of these films are actually funny — at least those I’ve seen. You could also try one of my favorite slapstick comedy jaunts, The Great Race. I don’t know if you’d like The Great Race if you liked this, but I know you’ll like The Great Race if you didn’t like this.

Final verdict – in claps
You may clap, but I did not. Thank goodness that I don’t have to waste money on the play EVER.