Screening Log: May 1st-14th, 2012 – Films #124-145
15 May 2012 Leave a Comment
in 2012, Uncategorized, Weekly Screening Log Tags: 1940, 1940's, 1940's film, 1941, 1944, 1947, 1948, 1949, 2012, A Canterbury Tale, adaptation, Beauty is Embarrassing, Belgium, Brighton Rock, British, Carol Reed, China, Damsels in Distress, Dardenne Brothers, Documentary, Douglas Sirk, Edward G. Robinson, experimental, Film Noir, France, George Stevens, Iran, Italian neorealism, Italy, Jafar Panahi, Joss Whedon, Lured, Maya Deren, Meshes of the Afternoon, Musical, Nicholas Ray, Night Train to Munich, Odd Man Out, On the Town, Paul Williams Still Alive, Powell/Pressburger, psychological thriller, Robert Wise, Secret Life of Walter Mitty, Shoeshine, short, Spring in a Small Town, Superhero, The Avengers, The Devil and Daniel Webster, The Kid with a Bike, The More the Merrier, The Queen of Versailles, The Red House, The Set-Up, They Live By Night, This is Not a Film, Vittorio De Sica, Whit Stillman
All grades are ultimately arbitrary and representative of ‘gut feeling’ subjective responses.
124. The More the Merrier (1943, Stevens): A-
125. Meshes of the Afternoon (1943, Deren & Hammid): B+
126. Paul Williams Still Alive (2012, Kessler): B-
127. Damsels in Distress (2012, Stillman): C+
128. The Queen of Versailles (2012, Greenfield): B+/B
129. On the Town (1949, Donen & Kelly): B/B-
130. Odd Man Out (1947, Reed): B+
131. The Red House (1947, Daves): B/B-
132. The Avengers (2012, Whedon): B+
133. Night Train to Munich (1940, Reed): B-
134. A Canterbury Tale (1944, Powell & Pressburger): A-/B+
135. The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941, Dieterle): B+
136. Beauty is Embarrassing (2012, Berkeley): B
137. Spring in a Small Town (1948, Fei): B+/B
138. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947, McLeod): C+/C
139. This is Not a Film (2012, Panahi & Mirtahmasb): A
140. The Kid with a Bike (2012, Dardenne Brothers): A
141. The Set-Up (1949, Wise): B+
142. They Live By Night (1949, Ray): B+
143. Shoeshine (1946, De Sica): A
144. Brighton Rock (1948, Boulting): A
145. Lured (1947, Sirk): A-/B+
Screening Log: April 15th-30th, 2012 – Films #104-123
30 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Weekly Screening Log, 2012 Tags: 1940, 1940's, 1942, 1947, 1948, 2 Days in New York, 2 Days in Paris, 2007, 2012, adaptation, Adaptation: Play, Alexander Korda, And Then There Were None, Andrea Arnold, Anthology, British, Carl Dreyer, Crime, Criss Cross, Dark Passage, Day of Wrath, Detective, Documentary, Edward G. Robinson, Film Noir, Fritz Lang, Green for Danger, Horror, Jean Gabin, Joan Bennett, Julie Delpy, Man Hunt, Michael Powell, Moontide, Pursued, Raoul Walsh, Romantic Comedy, Secret Beyond the Door..., Tales of Manhattan, The Imposter, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers, The Theif of Bagdad, The Wolf Man, The Woman in the Window, Western, Wuthering Heights
Note: All grades are entirely subjective.
105. Man Hunt (1941, Lang): B-/C+
106. Dark Passage (1947, Daves): B-
107. The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946, Milestone): B+
108. And Then There Were None (1945, Clair): B+
109. Secret Beyond the Door… (1948, Lang): A-/B+
110. Criss Cross (1947, Siodmak): B
111. The Wolf Man (1941, Waggner): B-
112. The Woman in the Window (1944, Lang): B+/B
113. Green for Danger (1946, Gilliat): A/A-
113. Tales of Manhattan (1942, Duvivier): B
115. Moontide (1942, Mayo): B/B-
116. The Thief of Bagdad (1940, Powell, et al): A
117. Pursued (1947, Walsh): B
118. The Imposter (2012, Layton): A/A-
120. 2 Days in Paris (2007, Delpy): B+/B
121. Day of Wrath (1943, Dreyer): A-/B+
122. 2 Days in New York (2012, Delpy): B+/B
123. Wuthering Heights (2012, Arnold): C+
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List: Film Characters I Have an Irrational Hatred Towards Part 3: Charlie Bucket & Grandpa Joe
11 Apr 2012 13 Comments
in 2012, List Tags: 1971, adaptation, Based on a Book, Charlie Bucket, Fantasy, Film, Gene Wilder, Grandpa Joe, Jack Albertson, List, movies, Peter Ostrum, Roald Dahl, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
An unexpected installment this week. I found myself incapable of summing up my thoughts about these characters in a few paragraphs. So here is a whole host of rambling nonsense that hopefully sums up how I feel about these folks. I am also convinced that this post may prove as evidence of my insanity.
The next installment will cover the 1970′s and 1980′s.
Charlie Bucket, Grandpa Joe and the Entire Bucket Family (yes, even the bedridden grandparents) – Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)
On the surface, Charlie Bucket sounds like a poster child for generosity, innocence and honesty. Sometimes casting and performance can muddle up the transfer from page to screen. This is exactly what happened with Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The Charlie Bucket of the Roald Dahl book and vastly inferior 2005 Tim Burton film convey the proper Dickensian poverty-stricken empathy. This kid deserves the best there is; what a selfless creature! A bad performance has the power to make even the noblest characteristics seem like a pile of overreaching piety and incessant defeatism. Ladies and gentlemen; Peter Ostrum:
It is not a coincidence that Charlie Bucket was Peter Ostrum’s only performance. He left acting at a very early age and rightly so. Nobody can call this performance good. It is a catastrophe. Overly strained and entirely one-note, Ostrum inspires a special kind of irrational hatred. Case in point; the amount of time I have spent rolling my eyes at innocuous lines like “It’s payday Mr. Jopeck” proves Ostrum’s ability to annoy with even the simplest of dialogue. It also proves that I may be a little insane.
Then we have Grandpa Joe; a source of never-give-up enthusiasm. He always believes in Charlie and in his heart knows he will go places and rise above the cards he has been dealt. He is always looking out for his grandson and encouraging him to never give up. An incident of miscasting takes all of these lovely traits and spits them out as across-the-board selfishness. What a flibbertigibbet wackadoo, and I do not mean that as a compliment. At one point he says “If she’s a lady, then I’m a Vermicious Knid”. No Grandpa Joe; that would be an insult to Vermicious Knids. Ladies and gentlemen; Jack Albertson:
Jack Albertson is a fine actor, but his portrayal never roused my sense of spirit. The man stays bedridden for decades, even though Charlie and his mother are left to scramble together any scraps of pittance pay in order to stay in their broken-down abode. Yet when Charlie wins the Golden Ticket, he is suddenly able to stumble out of bed? By the end of “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket”, Grandpa Joe is jumping and springing and leaping around like a total asshole, not to mention showing off way more Grandpa Joe leg than I never needed to see:
Way to prioritize. Apparently a desperately impoverished family is not enough to get your ass out of bed, but a visit to a freaking chocolate factory is? How can I like someone this selfish? Grandpa Joe is clearly supposed to be quite flawed yet ultimately endearing; but he isn’t here. The lyrics to the song do not generate sympathy; he sounds like a person who gave up on life very early on, and is now using Charlie’s ticket to give himself an entirely falsified sense of purpose. But that’s just me.
In case it is not clear at this point, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is completely engrained in me. The thing practically runs through my veins. Some films you see enough times to carve out an individualized connection with it. What makes my relationship with this film so distinctive (in comparison to my relationship with the other films I love), is the dissonance between what I get out of watching it. The second half of this film, which sees Gene Wilder take center stage, is legitimately great. In fact, there is no performance I cherish more than Wilder’s work here. Yet the first half is wildly uneven as it sets up Charlie’s woeful predicament and his unlikely journey to the gates of Willy Wonka’s factory.
On the one hand, the slightly absurdist scenes depicting how far adults will go to find the tickets are one-minute nuggets of darkly comedic gold. The frenzy that the Golden Ticket fiasco ensues is supposed to be funny; except when it comes to Charlie. Charlie and his decrepit bunch of relatives are supposed to be taken seriously. They live in a hole of their own self-perpetuating misery entirely outside the comedy going on around them. Between the sad attempts to play this storyline completely straight, and the bad casting and execution, everything involving the Bucket family becomes unintentionally funny.
Charlie’s mother swishing around nondescript blue sheets in dirty water with a big wooden paddle: hilarious. Charlie being derided by his teacher and classmates because a Wonka-related math problem forces him to announce he has only opened two chocolate bars: hilarious. Charlie silently sobbing in his bed after hearing news of the soon-to-be-revealed fraudulent fifth ticket: hilarious. Remember when Charlie pitifully tricks his family into thinking he got a Golden Ticket in his birthday chocolate bar, only to say – “Fooled you didn’t I? You thought I really had it” (yeah Charlie; you showed them), with that always-present expression of his that suggests his dog was just hit by a car? That scene makes me laugh harder than most comedies.
It would be entirely possible for me to do a list of least favorite Charlie Bucket expressions. They would all be variations of the same thing. I could do this; but even I have my limits. But here’s a sampling:
There are certain lines of dialogue that are so overly saccharine and self-deprecating, how is anyone supposed to do anything but laugh?
Charlie: [to Grandpa Joe, after opening the Wonka bar they think has the last Golden Ticket in it] “You know… I’ll bet those Golden Tickets make the chocolate taste terrible.”
Charlie’s Mom: (about a loaf of bread) “A real banquet”
Grandpa Joe: “When a loaf of bread looks like a banquet, I’ve no right buying tobacco.”
The above is pretty much the representative example of Grandpa Joe’s selfishness. You know what? You are right; you have no right buying tobacco. He is all talk and no action. His words mean nothing.
To this day, I skip the “Cheer Up Charlie” scene. Leave it to Charlie Bucket to be the subject of quite possibly the worst song in a musical.
“You get blue like everyone
But me and Grandpa Joe
Can make your troubles go away
Blow away, there they go…”
Someone get me a paper bag to hurl into.
When they gulp down the Fizzy Lifting Drinks, I always hope the fan annihilates them, but this unsurprisingly never takes place.
As I mentioned earlier, their so-called saintly characteristics have the opposite effect; they are either funny or infuriating or both. Here is an onslaught of examples (I have so many things to say, I have resorted to bullet points):
“The Candy Man” song features Bill freely tossing out candy to a crowd of children. The song ends and the camera cuts to this face:
Seriously? Charlie; he was literally throwing candy to all the children. You could have walked in and joined the party, but no. That would be Un-Bucket-like of him. The film’s first shot of Charlie shows him as he will appear throughout the entire film; with his trademarked sulky ‘my dog just died’ face.
-Grandpa Joe trying to give Charlie supposedly false hope feels needlessly cruel as opposed to well-meaning.
- Why does Charlie choose Grandpa Joe as his guest to the factory? I realize he is the clear favorite of the bunch…but surely Charlie’s long-suffering and hard-working mother deserves it by default.
- Grandpa Joe’s seemingly throwaway line during “I’ve Got a Golden Ticket” in which he exclaims, “It’s ours Charlie” is maddening. Way to steal the thunder Joe. Last time I checked, it was Charlie’s ticket. You’re just along for the ride.
- When Willy Wonka walks out with his slow limp, everyone seems disappointed, including Charlie and Grandpa Joe. Really? He is limping people. Are Charlie and Grandpa Joe really that shallow? Of course they are.
The climactic verbal throwdown that takes place is what takes the cake for me. It is separate from the rest, which I have mostly turned into a mock-fest across time. To this day, the end of the film never fails to piss me off. Charlie and Grandpa Joe are incapable of taking the blame for what they have done. They knowingly broke the rules with the Fizzy-Lifting Drinks and at no point do they apologize for their sorry excuse for a mishap. Wonka understandably yells at them, letting them know that yes, their random absence from the group did not go unnoticed and uninvestigated. That gaping silence where Grandpa Joe’s incessant quips usually are was probably the tip-off.
Grandpa Joe then unleashes an undeservedly moralistic speech about crushing a boy’s dreams and smashing them to pieces. He is really overcompensating for his own fault in the entire situation, but somehow this is supposed to be seen as an old man heroically taking a stand for his grandson. Charlie in the meantime, crushed and oozing ‘my dog just died’ face seems disappointed in Wonka the man. Really? Think this through Charlie. I know you have no brain cells and that all your energy is spent moping, but surely you are capable of seeing the situation for what it is? Grandpa Joe is the one that goaded you into taking a sip. If something had happened, Wonka would be held responsible and his life’s work would be down the drain in an instant. They signed a contract! But no; Charlie only has enough energy to mope on over to return the damn Everlasting Gobstopper, a cheap reverse psychology ploy that Wonka falls for.
My hatred for Charlie, Grandpa Joe and the rest of the Buckets has become a major factor in what I get out of this film. I love hating them. I have seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory so many times that an evolution has taken place over two decades. A comforting familiarity has surrounded the film, and that includes my loathing for half the cast. Making fun of these characters has become almost a pastime over the years. Time and time again watching it with various family members has turned into a collective mocking of line deliveries, gawking at how unbearable these fucking characters really are.
The irrational hatred I have for these characters does not ruin Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; far from it. In fact the opposite is true; it has become entirely essential to my viewing experience.
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List: Film Characters I Have an Irrational Hatred Towards Part 1: The 1930′s
31 Mar 2012 14 Comments
in 2012, List Tags: 1930's Film, 1931, 1932, 1933, 1935, 1936, 1938, A Midsummer Night's Dream, adaptation, Animated Film, Animated Films, Animation, Based on a Novel, Based on a Play, Bringing Up Baby, Characters, Charles Ruggles, City Lights, Disney, Dodsworth, Film, Fredric March, Katharine Hepburn, List, Little Women, Margaret Dumont, Mickey Rooney, movies, Murders in the Zoo, Pre-Code, Ruth Chatterton, Shakespeare, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, The Marx Brothers, The Sign of the Cross, Virginia Cherrill
Have you ever watched a film and found yourself thinking “My God, but that character is getting on my nerves”, when said character is not necessarily meant to? There are plenty of onscreen characters throughout the years who are meant to be vexing or obnoxious. But at what point does that frustration transform into something a little more intense?
What do I mean by intense? Here are two possible definitions. First is that the hatred extends far past what is meant to be felt, becoming a somewhat preposterous fixation. The second is that the ‘irrational hatred’ for the character overflows to the point where you begin feeling adverse effects to the entire film itself.
Of course, these are more extreme side effects of the topic in question. For one thing, there are plenty of characters on this list that get on my nerves, but have never jeopardized my willingness to rewatch the film they are part of. For another thing, some of the characters on this list are supposed to get on your nerves; to a point. When you cannot move past it, when it grates on you beyond normalized reason, then it counts for this list, whether one is supposed to be annoyed by the character or not.
Something else to note; it does not have to be the character. In fact, many of the lists inclusions irritate me because of the performances attached to the character.
This is not the type of list I see around too much and so I thought it would be a fun and harmless road down which to venture. I like these kinds of lists that really have nothing to do with being the end-all be-all of anything, and focus more on ones personalized relationship with a variety of films. And anyone that reads this blog with any regularity knows I favor embracing the subjectivity of lists and somewhat resent (at least for myself) any attempts for a list to speak for anyone but myself.
The idea for this list came about from reminiscing about Apollo 13. In a management class for my graduate school classes for Library Science, we watched a few clips from the film. We had to discuss the various methods of group collaboration taking place and insert all the terminology we had been discussing about teams and groups into examples from the scenes (most featuring Ed Harris). I had been thinking about how much I truly like Apollo 13, and was lamenting about how long it had been since I watched it.
I then started to think about the one glaring downside to that film; Kathleen Quinlan. I flat-out do not like Kathleen Quinlan in this film. I realize that she was stuck with the obligatory ‘wife’ role and that it’s a pretty thankless part (although not thankless enough; she was nominated for an Oscar). There are a lot of similar thankless roles that actresses get saddled with, but none really got on my nerves the way she did. My memory recalls one worried facial expression throughout, and distractingly garish late 60’s/early 70’s wardrobe and makeup. At a certain point the negative feelings I have become inexplicable.
And thus the idea for this list was born.
There are some questionable choices here; I realize this. Some of the irrationality can be argued. I have a few characters on here where my reactions could be argued as being completely rational.
There were many that came to my head and I decided not to put them on. I felt either that my feelings were entirely too justified or that too many people hate the character for it to really feel ‘irrational’. How can it feel ‘irrational’ if so many others hate them as well? So no Jar-Jar Binks will be found here.
I am breaking them up into unordered chronological installments. I happened to have a lot from the 1930’s, but the next installment will cover at least two decades.
Examples of characters that did not make this first portion are Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind, Margaret Lockwood as Jenny in The Stars Look Down, Walter Huston as ‘Deadlegs’ Flint in Kongo and Norma Shearer as Mary Haines in The Women.
What characters do you have an irrational hatred towards from this or any decade?
Virginia Cherrill – A Blind Girl – City Lights (1931)
A sweet innocent blind girl just trying to make ends meet; what’s not to like? It should be the easiest grab for audience sympathy ever. The Tramp is head over heels for her, and if he is, we must be; right?
City Lights is one of my absolute favorite films. It is near perfect. The only thing that has never worked for me was Cherrill as ‘A Blind Girl’. My investment stems from my emotional stake in The Tramp’s happiness. I care because he cares. I never care for her predicament at face value. Does this make me a heartless bitch? I think not.
To be unashamedly shallow, she looks like a snot; am I wrong? Her supposed innocence feels transparent. It looks like she constantly smells some indistinguishable stink in the air. I would not have been surprised if the film had ended with the shocking twist that she had been playing him for a fool the entire time. When it comes down to it, I just never bought the act she was selling.
Frederic March – Marcus Superbus – The Sign of the Cross (1932)
Is there a more salacious Pre-Code film than the giant hypocrisy that is Cecil B. Demille’s The Sign of the Cross? A film that wants to have its torture orgy-ridden cake and eat it too; this is a must-watch train-wreck oddity of its time. The sheer unabashed indulgence of splendor (it’s well worth seeing if only for the spectacle and the luscious performances of Charles Laughton and Claudette Colbert) and the gall it has to drown itself in false piety is unbelievable.
This false piety is embodied by the Marcuc Superbus character. Fredric March is sorely miscast and forced into tight curls and a constant display of upper thigh. He is also weighted down with unbearably corny dialogue. But it is his ‘arc’ that is intolerable. He immediately falls for Elissa Landi’s Mercia (a devout Christian in the age of Nero) and becomes insistent on seducing her. He pretends to give a shit about the Christian cause, but really thinks it is all a joke. He unsuccessfully humiliates her as he attempts to subject her to an orgy as everyone laughs at her purity. Then in the final minutes, he joins her in death because he loves her? Huh?
I repeat; huh? It is unbelievably soapy, unearned and outright dull. But somehow through it all, March’s character frustrated me more than the bad writing, dry religious goings-on and hypocrisy. Never for one second does it make sense that he would fall for Mercia when he had Claudette Colbert (and her milk-bath soaked breasts) lusting after him. He is a douchebag cad throughout and March’s performance is just plain bad; as in, one of the worst I have ever seen.
Charles Ruggles – Peter Yates – Murders in the Zoo (1933)
Does anybody really like Charles Ruggles? Has anyone ever uttered the words “I am a Charles Ruggles fan?” I can guarantee you will never hear those words from my lips. Ruggles was a go-to character actor of the time. His general persona was that of a befuddled stuttering man who would often get tangled-up in his own words while transparently putting on airs. He happens to have a supporting role in my favorite film Bringing Up Baby. I can usually tolerate him. Not in Murders in the Zoo, which I watched last year while covering all my bases for my Pre-Code Horror list.
From my write-up on “Pre-Code Horror: The 9 Films that Didn’t Make the Cut”: “Murders in the Zoo is brought down by none other than…Charles Ruggles….lots of Charles Ruggles. Ruggles gets the confounding honor of top-billing instead of Lionel Atwill. He plays a public relations type who gets to do his stuttering imbecilic fool act for what feels like eternity and what is actually a significant chunk of a film with a runtime of just over an hour.”
That pretty much sums it up. It is a performance that an active chore to sit through. While a lot of these performances and characters grate on me in ways far beyond what they should, there are few that reach this level of aggravation.
Katharine Hepburn – Jo March – Little Women (1933)
Don’t get me wrong; I love Katharine Hepburn. Part of me can admit that most of this entry is personal bias. I was born in 1987. In 1994, Gillian Armstrong’s Little Women was released and I distinctly remember seeing it in theaters at age seven. It had a deep and indescribable effect on me and continues to today; it would rank in my top five favorite films of all time. You see, to me, Winona Ryder is Jo March. Her portrayal remains one of my most cherished performances and characters. So to see Hepburn in this role was something that put me immediately on the defensive.
Clearly I realize this is unreasonable behavior. Normally I have no problem accepting the basic fact of life that beloved novels will have multiple adaptations. Different character depictions and interpretations deserve to be taken as separate entities even if (and when) comparisons inevitably come into play. Normally I can realize basic rationalities such as this; but not with Jo March. Winona Ryder is Jo March. I become a petulant child when it comes to my feelings on this.
Katharine Hepburn as Jo March can be a tad grating at times to say the least. It feels too easy, despite being a great idea in theory. They share spunk and drive and an everlasting search for the deeper meanings of life. In practice though, Katharine Hepburn as Jo March feels a bit like Katharine Hepburn as Katharine Hepburn. I said it twice and I will say it one last time; Winona Ryder is and will always be my Jo March.
Margaret Dumont – Various Characters – Any and all Marx Brothers films
Blasphemy you say? Well, I cannot help it. But she is like the fifth Marx Brother! Essential to the ensemble! She had an undervalued and difficult job! All true.
The simple truth of it is that I cannot stand her. Yet my eyes always helplessly drift towards her as the jokes land. Not because I am in Dumont-loving denial; it is merely the masochist in me. Her reactions never fail to have the same effect; I take a deep breath so as to not lose my cool over performances given over 70 years ago.
I realize that there is only so much variety to be had when your job is to be the butt of jokes across several films and to be the reacting party over and over and over again. Here is my problem with Dumont; not only are her reactions all exactly the same, but I have never and will never be able to get past the antiquated theatricality to her. Her acting is unbearably stagey and try though I might, I cannot get past it.
I realize all of the ‘buts’ that could be thrown in here. Though, this is an ‘irrational hatred’ list after all. And that is exactly what I have for Mrs. Margaret Dumont.
Mickey Rooney – Puck – A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935)
I first saw the 1935 film version of Shakespeare’s play (my favorite of his besides Hamlet) about eight years ago on Turner Classic Movies. Generally, I enjoyed it. In particular, James Cagney as Bottom was inspired and unforgettable. But I am unsure whether I could sit through this again. Why? Two words: Mickey Rooney.
That he is playing Puck, marvelous mischievous Puck, only makes his performance all the more depressing to think about. As far as purely obnoxious performances go, this one takes the cake. I mean really. I do not know if there is a more obnoxious performance in the whole of cinema. In his earlier decades, Mickey Rooney had an energy level one could equate with pure adrenaline. As a young teenager here, this is raised to a maximum.
Just thinking about him is giving me a headache. It is all a blur. All I remember are these horrible guffawing noises he would make. A barrage of screeches, snorts, squeals, bulging eyes and manic energy. Is this an accurate description of his performance? I have no idea; it has been eight years and I sure as hell never intend to watch his performance again to confirm or deny my fuzzy remembrances.
Ruth Chatteron – Fran Dodsworth – Dodsworth (1936)
This is a tricky one; a really truly tricky one. Technically Chatterton should not even count. Her repulsive unappreciative character is an entirely purposeful creation (adapted from the play). Everything I felt towards her is meant. Nobody who has seen the film would ever question why I might feel this way. I can still recall what I felt while watching it in a heartbeat. There was a strong urge, rarely matched, to reach in and shake her, slap her and even shove her off a tall building. I recall heaving and puffing, even yelling at the television set despite being all by me while watching. My frustration with her nearly brought me to tears. It has been too long for me to remember whether we were supposed to feel any sympathy for her at any point, but I never did.
Her placement on this list is due to my uncertainty whether or not I ever want to see Dodsworth again despite liking it very much. I think of all of the heavy and/or disturbing films I have seen multiple times (or films I’ve seen once but would see again eventually) and compare it with my possible unwillingness to sit through Chatterton’s despicable character. I am positive that at some point in my life I will rewatch Inside with no qualms whatsoever. But Dodsworth? I do not know. Because of this, her placement here felt necessary. Even if I would never in a million years call my hatred for her irrational.
Adriana Caselotti (voice) Snow White – Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
There was a time in my life where I had an obsession with Disney films. My love for them has not lessened, but there was a particular time of concentrated obsession. I constantly had all of my Disney DVD’s in rotation, keeping them on while I did homework after school every day all through high school. I made tons of ambitious Disney lists. I got to know all of these films very well through sheer repetition.
When is the last time you sat and watched Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs? Maybe you have forgotten or never noticed, but Snow White is the worst. The film is generally a joy, unarguably important and fantastically creative in its animation. Our first Disney princess however, leaves much to be desired.
She is a concoction of uselessness. This goes beyond the expected levels of non-agency that the Disney princesses (at least in earlier decades), tended not to possess. Snow White is just plain stupid. She really is quite the moron. Sadly, this and helplessness are her only characteristics. Oh, and a natural inclination towards domesticity. None of this is even remotely surprising and it is only part of the reason why I have allowed an animated character to wring my hands up in impatience.
When it comes down to it, the clincher is Adriana Caselotti’s voice work. It sounds like someone took the affected iconic voice of Marilyn Monroe, distilled it to its purest form and turned the dial to eleven. Let us ignore the fact that Monroe was eleven when this was released. The voice is unbearable. It has the potential to evoke involuntary eye twitching.
Virginia Walker – Alice Swallow – Bringing Up Baby (1938)
The anger I carry towards this character does not compare to the other entries in this first set. Yet Alice Swallow still bothers me beyond what is meant. This is a character whom we immediately recognize as being the wrong match for Cary Grant’s David Huxley. She is stuffy, prim and curt. She is a party pooper of the first degree. We are not supposed to like her.
If we are not supposed to like her then why put her on? Because she is a caricature who barely gets any screen time. Alice is not for one moment in danger of keeping David away from what he wants. She is a physical representation of what needs to change in his life. She never feels like a real human being. And she appears in the very beginning and end of the film.
She is on this list because I spend far too much time hating a character that not even the film itself takes with a modicum of seriousness.
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Screening Log: March 1st-14th, 2012 – Films #43-60
15 Mar 2012 2 Comments
in 2012, Weekly Screening Log Tags: 1926, 1930, 1930's, 1930's Film, 1931, 1932, 1934, 1935, 1936, 1937, 1938, 1939, A Page of Madness, adaptation, Adventure, Alexander Korda, avant-garde, Based on a Play, Biopic, Carol Reed, Dead End, Destry Rides Again, England, Ernst Lubitsch, Everything is Terrible!, Faust, France, Fritz Lang, Fury, George Stevens, Germany, Gunga Din, Howard Hawks, Japan, Josef von Sternberg, Leo McCarey, Love Affair, Marlene Dietrich, Michel Carne, Musical, Only Angels Have Wings, People on Sunday, Port of Shadows, Pygmalion, Rembrandt, Shanghai Express, Silent, Sylvia Sidney, The Devil is a Woman, The Gay Divorcee, The Smiling Lieutenant, The Stars Look Down, Western, William Wyler, You Only Live Once
All grades are completely subjective and ultimately arbitrary merely reflecting my own personal interest and engagement with each film. They are more of a record for me than anything else and not a simplified stamp.
43. Dead End (1937, Wyler): C+
44. The Smiling Lieutenant (1931, Lubitsch): A-
35. Shanghai Express (1932, von Sternberg): A-
46. Everything is Terrible! The Movie (2009): A-/B+
47. Fury (1937, Lang): B+
48. Gunga Din (1939, Stevens): A-
49. Port of Shadows (1938, Carne): B-
50. The Devil is a Woman (1935, von Sternberg): B/B-
51. Faust (1926, Murnau): A-/B+
52. Destry Rides Again (1939, Marshall): A/A-
53. The Gay Divorcee (1934, Sandrich): A/A-
54. Love Affair (1939, McCarey): B
55. Only Angels Have Wings (1939, Hawks): A/A-
56. People on Sunday (1930, Siodmak, Ulmer): A
57. You Only Live Once (1937, Lang): A
58. The Stars Look Down (1939, Reed): B
59. Rembrandt (1936, Korda): A
60. A Page of Madness (1926, Kinugasa): A
61. Pygmalion (1938, Asquith & Howard): A/A-
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Blu-Ray Review: Rebecca (1940, Hitchcock)
01 Mar 2012 2 Comments
in 2012, Blu-Ray Review Tags: 1940, adaptation, Alfred Hitchcock, Based on a Novel, Blu-Ray, Daphne du Maurier, David O. Selznick, Film, Gothic, Joan Fontaine, Judith Anderson, Laurence Olivier, movies, Rebecca
Originally posted on Criterion Cast March 1st, 2012
Rebecca represents a major turning point in Alfred Hitchcock’s career. It was his first American-made film, allowing him to capitalize on the hopes and dreams of working with a bigger budget and more equipment, furthering the masterful technical control so central to his style.
Looming large over the entire picture is the involvement of that sleepless memo maniac David O. Selznick. With Gone with the Wind inching towards release, he moved forward on an adaptation, or as he put it ‘picturization’, of Daphne du Maurier’s much-loved classic Rebecca. Selznick was as intrusive as a producer gets, managing to stay on top of the production even through the Gone with the Wind preparation which took up almost all of his time. It is easy to under-appreciate what Selznick contributed to Rebecca, even though Hitchcock purists may see the final product as damaged goods. This new Blu-Ray reminds us of the singular combination of Selznick’s prestige, Hitchcock’s recurring themes and embedded psychology and du Maurier’s sumptuously enticing exploration of the Gothic.
Revisiting the film, in more pristine shape than ever before, allows us to take in Rebecca in all its glory, and even its limitations. Selznick had an unrelenting sense of grandeur and a lavishness with which he strove to do justice to a book he near-worshiped. This comes to serve Rebecca well, most prominently with Manderlay. The mansion is so imposing in its physical representation of the suffocating spirit of the deceased Rebecca that it becomes a central character. The first Mrs. De Winter and Selznick are united in their paralleled enduring influence that seeps into every scene.
As contradictory as Hitchcock and Selznick’s agendas seem, they inadvertently coalesce to create something mostly harmonious. As far as Hitchcock goes, he also had a strong connection to the book, wanting to buy the rights earlier but not having the money to do so. Here, he gets to astonish with his lusciously multi-layered compositions. The lighting in particular is something to behold, alone begging repeat viewings with its majesty.
The mogul’s insistence on a conventionally faithful adaptation provides a basis for Hitchcock to wield his inquiring camera into what is going on underneath it all. Selznick’s top-of-the-line template doesn’t hurt either. He pokes and pries, peeling back the layers as Joan Fontaine treks into the nightmare world of Manderlay. Again, Rebecca solidifies Hitchcock’s unmatched control, all the more impressive for working on a production as big as this.
The performances remain a varied bunch, from Laurence Olivier’s constantly brooding and callous Maxim to the ever-reliable character actors Nigel Bruce, Reginald Denny and Florence Bates. Joan Fontaine is aware of herself every moment in her first starring role and Hitchcock uses that to showcase the character’s vulnerability and at times frustrating naiveté. She is a fragile stranger in a strange land, both on and off screen, and it appropriately looks like she could crumble any minute. All apprehensive eyebrows and second-guessing, Fontaine shines because she natural exudes a quality that she herself seems unaware of.
It is of course Judith Anderson whose performance has more than held up over the decades. Her Mrs. Danvers is one of mostly passive and increasingly apparent insanity. She exists entirely in her own world, a heightened past broken up with patches of lucid denial and resentment. Anderson’s spacy passion makes for a justifiably iconic villain. There is the moment when Rebecca realizes that Mrs. Danvers is not completely sane. The camera stays with the horrified unnamed protagonist as she moves away to deal with said realization, leaving Mrs. Danvers in the background, carrying on in her own world.That scene and moment express all, remaining as creepy as ever.
The final twenty minutes is largely where Rebecca falters. We see the baggage lifted between Maxim and our The Second Mrs. De Winter, and they are allowed to connect freely, banding together against Rebecca’s hold on posthumous hold on them. This is all well and fine, but at this point the story itself becomes laborious. Hitchcock can only do so much to alleviate the shortcomings found here. Thankfully, George Sanders’ slimy presence is always a welcome treat.
The extras on Rebecca carry over from a previous DVD edition and are more than satisfying in their abundant quantity, largely supporting a contextual view of the film via the Hitchcock and Selznick collaboration. Richard Schickel’s commentary is pretty basic and his views of the film appear to be largely lukewarm. ‘The Making of Rebecca’ and ‘The Gothic World of Daphne du Maurier’ further expand on adding contextualization. Also included are radio plays of the story, an isolated music and effects track, interviews with Hitchcock and, my personal favorite, original screen tests with Margaret Sullavan and Vivien Leigh.
Rebecca may not be a ‘pure’ Hitchcock film, lacking in his trademark acidic humor, and balancing out the expectations of another formidable force. Yet it remains one of my favorite Hitchcock films (indeed I far prefer it over Notorious) for its Gothic psychological thriller that seamlessly weaves in and out of an amalgam of other genres; the woman’s picture, melodrama, romance, mystery and horror, to name some. The Blu-Ray offers a stellar picture with very little grain and minimal kinks; it is a more than worthy purchase to make for one of the master’s largely exemplary works.
Screening Log: February 15th-29th, 2012 – Films 35-42
01 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment
in 2012, Weekly Screening Log Tags: 1927, 1928, 1930, 1939, 2012, adaptation, Animal Crackers, Animation, Anime, Argentina, Brazil, Crime, Doggie Woggiez! Poochie Woochiez!, Film, Found Memories, France, Hiromasa Yonebayashi, Jean Gabin, Josef von Sternberg, Julia Murat, Le Jour se Leve, Marcel Carne, movies, Musical, Rene Clair, Screeningn Log, Silent, Studio Ghibli, The Docks of New York, The Marx Brothers, The Secret World of Arietty, Under the Roofs of Paris, Underworld
35. Doggie Woggiez! Poochie Woochiez! (2012, Ghoul Skool and Commodore Gilgamesh): B+
36. Under the Roofs of Paris (1930, Clair): C
37. Le Jour Se Leve (1939, Carne): A-
38. The Secret World of Arrietty (2012, Yonebayashi): A-
39. Found Memories (2012, Murat): B/B-
40. Animal Crackers (1930, Heerman): C+
41. Underworld (1927, von Sternberg): A-
42. The Docks of New York (1928, von Sternberg): B/B-
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List: Top 10 Pre-Code Horror Films
28 Oct 2011 7 Comments
in List Tags: 1930's Film, 1931, 1932, 1933, adaptation, American Film, Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Charles Laughton, Claude Rains, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Fay Wray, Film, Frankenstein, Freaks, Fredric March, Glenda Farrell, Hollywood, Horror, Island of Lost Souls, James Whale, Karl Freund, Kathleen Burke, Lionel Atwill, Michael Curtiz, Miriam Hopkins, movies, Mystery of the Wax Museum, Olga Baclanova, Pre-Code, Production Code, Rouben Mamoulian, sadism, Studio System, The Black Cat, The Invisible Man, The Most Dangerous Game, The Mummy, The Old Dark House, Tod Browning, Zita Johann
Anyone who has experience with Pre-Code films knows how much fun they are. A treasure trove of gems waiting to be discovered with plenty of iconic works to be found, as well as plenty that remain underrated. For anyone who does not know, ‘Pre-Code’ refers to a period in American film starting in 1930 and ending in 1934. While ‘Pre-Code’ suggests a time in film before the Production Code, a set of censorship guidelines created by advocate for morality Will Hays, the title is misleading. The Production Code was created in 1930 but was not enforced until 1934. Once it was, it became nearly impossible to get your film seen without being passed by the Code. But between 1930 and 1934, studios found they could get away with quite a bit, making for an entirely idiosyncratic batch of films that carried an incomparable attitude and swagger that was heavily diluted once the Code kicked in.
A number of different genres found their claim to fame within the studio system. These include but are not limited to the gangster film, female-dominated films (usually focusing in part on women’s freedom to casually sleep around without being criticized or punished for it; something entirely lost come Code enforcement), the musical and of course the horror film. Universal may be the primary studio known for their output in horror during this time, but almost all of the major studios dabbled in the genre. Pre-Code horror has a number of recurring traits; tendency towards novelistic adaptation, spill-over influence of German Expressionism, dependence on showcasing breakout stars by building films around them, streamlined run times, throwaway filler characters, prioritization of visualized atmosphere and most fun of all, a running streak of morbid sadism that prods at Pre-Code boundaries.
Note: I used a very broad use of the horror genre for this list. There are several films on this list that do not fit comfortably in the horror genre, but do contain horror in some fashion. Also, these are not in order and, as with every list I make and post, a declaration of subjectivity. I do not like claiming ‘best’; I can only account for what I personally find to be good or bad, interesting or uninteresting.
All summaries taken from Internet Movie Database.
10. Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933, Curtiz)
Studio: Warner Brothers
Summary: In London, sculptor Ivan Igor struggles in vain to prevent his partner Worth from burning his wax museum…and his ‘children.’ Years later, Igor starts a new museum in New York, but his maimed hands confine him to directing lesser artists. People begin disappearing (including a corpse from the morgue); Igor takes a sinister interest in Charlotte Duncan, fiancée of his assistant Ralph, but arouses the suspicions of Charlotte’s roommate, wisecracking reporter Florence.
When it came down to picking between this and Svengali, I realized either film could have been in this number 10 spot. What made me choose ‘Mystery’, the second Curtiz-directed two-toned Technicolor (Doctor X being the first), is that it’s a surprisingly fun ride…so much so that it sets itself apart from the other films on this list (except for number 5 but they are both such different beasts). It retains just enough for it to pass the horror test, but more importantly, it plays out like a light female-fronted detective film. Front and center is Glenda Farrell as Florence Dempsey, a firecracker of a reporter, who presents herself as a hardworking ace and a casual party-goer with zingers to spare (and she can run circles around her male coworkers to boot). She may get a tad annoying from time to time, but I was impressed by how refreshing her character is even now, in that her agency drives the entire picture.
The highlights of ‘Mystery’ come from the non-horror elements; the audience is tricked into buying into one love interest, before it throws an entirely different and successful match at us in its final 30 seconds! A scene between Farrell and roommate (and catalyst for Lionel Atwill’s nefarious deeds) Fay Wray shows a casual air between two female friends that, even in its touch-and-go sparring, feels like it captures something authentic about two young women rooming together in a city. Between all this, there’s Lionel Atwill, who gets a much better chance to shine here than he did in Doctor X or Murders in the Zoo.
Pacing issues prevail throughout mainly because the scenes with Farrell are jarring in their rapidity when placed against anything else. But this took me by surprise; it’s underrated and more than deserves a look, and not just because this is where the origins of House of Wax lay.
9. The Most Dangerous Game (1932, Pichel)
Studio: RKO
Summary: An insane hunter arranges for a ship to be wrecked on an island where he can indulge in some sort of hunting and killing of the passengers.
A pre-cursor to King Kong if you will, with RKO, Fay Wray and an island setting all in test-drive mode. The earliest filmed incarnation of a Battle Royale-esque concept I can think of, this is based on a 1924 short story where the humans become the hunted. As its placement here indicates, I prefer this to King Kong. Seeing the cast of characters slowly realize their predicament is well-executed. The existence of a 1932 film with this plot makes for an automatic treat. The dialogue is solid and Fay Wray is, again, divine. My big problem is that Leslie Banks as Count Zaroff does not work. He is far too artificial and hammy in his performance (even by early talkies standard) to register and this hinders the entire film.
8. Frankenstein (1931, Whale)
Studio: Universal
Summary: Horror classic in which an obsessed scientist assembles a living being from parts of exhumed corpses.
It could definitely be said that Frankenstein is a better film than a few of my higher choices. I used to place this in the same overrated pile as Dracula, but over the years I have come around on it. This is one of my favorite books and while the themes are truncated to the point of near evaporation (outside of the critical element of Karloff’s yearning which allows the film to ultimately work), the poor script is overcome by Whale’s glorious direction and Karloff’s magnificent performance. It says a lot that Karloff’s work makes up for the disappointing removal of his character’s ability to speak (my favorite aspect and section of the novel). How great would that have been to see with his glorious voice?
In a Gothic Literature class I wrote a response paper on the decision to change his character’s name from ‘The Creature’ as it is in the book, to ‘The Monster’ as he is represented in the film, and what it says about the thematic prioritization in each. That essential element of yearning on the part of Karloff is retained, allowing the entire film to pay-off beautifully. The famous scene in which Karloff murders the young girl is a milestone scene in Pre-Code cinema. Truncated as the film may be, it keeps the all-too important question ‘what does it mean to be human?’ and, taken as on its own terms, the film works even today.
7. The Black Cat (1934, Ulmer)
Studio: Universal
Summary: American honeymooners in Hungary are trapped in the home of a Satan- worshiping priest when the bride is taken there for medical help following a road accident.
If you need any further incentive to see this, just know that Karloff and Lugosi’s characters are named Hjalmar Poelzig and Dr. Vitus Werdegast, which serves as a hint for what you are in for. The Black Cat is a thoroughly bizarre and nonsensical trip featuring the first Karloff/Lugosi onscreen pairing and boy oh boy do they get to face-off. Their dialogue exchanges drip like a poison-tipped pen as they out-act each other. There is even a chess game with sky-high stakes. Classical music plays over almost every scene, an unheard of gesture at this point. The setting is an art director’s wet dream; an art-deco haven complete with digital clocks! And the title? The Black Cat has nothing to do with Poe; Lugosi’s character just happens to be deathly afraid of cats! Seriously; this film makes next to no sense, which is why a bit of surrender to it is necessary to appreciate it. For every bit of confusion and/or scene with the dull as doornails central couple, we are given highlights like the memorable trip into Karloff’s mausoleum containing the suspended body of Lugosi’s long-dead wife. This is one of the more twisted titles on either list.
Pre-Code Goodies: Lots. Karloff shown sleeping in the same bed as another woman (breaking the absolutely forbidden one-bed rule) and who can forget that flaying?
6. The Mummy (1932, Freund)
Studio: Universal
Summary: In 1921 a field expedition in Egypt discovers the mummy of ancient Egyptian prince Im-Ho-Tep, who was condemned and buried alive for sacrilege. Also found in the tomb is the Scroll of Thoth, which can bring the dead back to life. One night a young member of the expedition reads the Scroll out loud, and then goes insane, realizing that he has brought Im-Ho-Tep back to life. Ten years later, disguised as a modern Egyptian, the mummy attempts to reunite with his lost love, an ancient princess who has been reincarnated into a beautiful young woman.
If it isn’t clear by this point; I am a *huge* Boris Karloff fan. He was a master at his craft and one of the few actors who I would gladly watch in absolutely anything and everything he has done. He instantly elevates anything he appears in. My favorite performance of his is in 1945’s The Body Snatcher, a vastly underrated film (one that I rank up there with Cat People and The Leopard Man as far as Val Lewton produced fare goes). Just like Lon Chaney, his work goes so far beyond the makeup. That voice alone.
Getting back on track, The Mummy satisfies on every level. It has shivery moments, such as that prologue with the man-gone-mad pay-off. Karloff is all over this film barely concealing his character’s ulterior motives with a transparent soft kindliness. Then we have director Karl Freund who, in all honesty, is one of my favorite people ever to exist in the film industry. You know how some people have their favorite historical figures? Well, in the world of film history, Karl Freund is one of mine. The film moves along at a click and is consistent throughout (not something I can say for a lot of the films seen for this list, even some of the ones I really like). The leading lady here often gets overlooked but Zita Johann is a strong in both performance and character. Considering the number of other films with insufferable female leads (Mask of Fu Manchu, The Black Cat, White Zombie, Dracula, Murders in the Rue Morgue), this is a major plus. Finally, we get a short silent film within a film as a special treat.
Pre-Code Goodies: Zita Johann’s wardrobe for the climax is quite revealing.
5. The Old Dark House (1932, Whale)
Studio: Universal
Summary: Seeking shelter from a pounding rainstorm in a remote region of Wales, several travelers are admitted to a gloomy, foreboding mansion belonging to the extremely strange Femm family.
The Old Dark House is Karloff’s follow-up role to Frankenstein with both films directed by James Whale. Funnily enough, Karloff does not get much to do here. Despite top billing, he is a mute butler who I recall mainly lumbering in and out of the frame. Yet the film starts out with this little ditty written onscreen:
Producer’s Note: Karloff, the mad butler in this production, is the same Karloff who created the part of the mechanical monster in Frankenstein. We explain this to settle all disputes in advance, even though such disputes are a tribute to his great versatility.
Despite the hubbub surrounding Karloff here, and given how much of a fan of his I am, he does not factor into why this shows up on this list. What does account for its placement is that it stands out from the pack as a witty little oddity that crackles with personality and humor, while still being eerie. Whale’s atmospheric ‘old dark house’ uses creaking windows, barren hallways and dimly lit surroundings and allows it to work in tandem with the comedic elements. Our ‘ordinary’ characters find themselves at the house and are surrounded by a peculiar smorgasbord of a family. This collision between ordinary and peculiar characters makes for interactions throughout the film that are consistently weird, and that is where the humor comes into play. It’s almost like a warped sitcom at times and it’s a lot of fun. And that cast; while Karloff skulks in the background just enjoy seeing Charles Laughton, Gloria Stuart, Melvyn Douglas and Raymond Massey onscreen together. For a Pre-Code Horror film to have a cast filled to the brim with legitimately talented people is a one-time thing. Savor it.
4. The Invisible Man (1933, Whale)
Studio: Universal
Summary: A scientist finds a way of becoming invisible, but in doing so, he becomes murderously insane.
I will not have much to say about The Invisible Man because it has been about seven years since I’ve seen it. That I remember my reaction to the film, proclaiming it to be one of my favorites immediately upon finishing is a strong indicator for its high spot. It is the film that made me fall in love with Claude Rains, an actor who I rank among Lon Chaney, Charles Laughton, Conrad Veidt and Boris Karloff on a list of favorite classic actors. He only has his voice to get characterization across (and what a voice it is).
The effects are still impressive today as they harken back to a time where effects inspired less reactions like ‘how did they do that?’ and more reactions like ‘oh my Lord, Claude Rains is invisible!’. Rains gets himself into pretty muddy waters as he slips further and further from sanity; the joy comes from getting the progressive sense of characterization through only voice and dialogue and not sight. Just writing about what I can recall is making me realize just how badly I need to see this again.
3. Freaks (1932, Browning)
Studio: MGM
Summary: A circus’ beautiful trapeze artist agrees to marry the leader of side-show performers, but his deformed friends discover she is only marrying him for his inheritance.
What hasn’t been said about Freaks, the film that ruined director Tod Browning’s career and is now hailed by many as a masterpiece. This is a one-of-a-kind to be sure and thankfully, due to a rampant following that began many decades ago, no longer an unfairly maligned diamond in the rough. The message here is that monstrosity exists on the inside, not the outside. And in this case, the ‘freaks’ in question are kind-hearted and well-meaning souls, who have learned to take their outcast status and transform it into communal pride. The real ‘freak’ in question is the outwardly beautiful Cleopatra, played by the awesome Olga Baclanova, who manipulates, cheats and attempts murder in order to get rich from Hans (Harry Earles), a sideshow dwarf. Her fate is legendary in film history, a reveal that remains unsurpassed in its effect.
The use of people with various extreme deformities seems exploitative, and on some level of course it is. But on another more important level, Browning treats his characters with empathy and care, making their appearance something that serves as shock value only when it needs to.
2. Island of Lost Souls (1932, Kenton)
Studio: Paramount
Summary: An obsessed scientist conducts profane experiments in evolution, eventually establishing himself as the self-styled demigod to a race of mutated, half-human abominations.
If you haven’t seen Island of Lost Souls, this is the perfect time as the film was just released on Criterion Collection. I have sadly been unable to purchase it due to monetary constraints, but believe it is at the top of my to-buy list.
An adaptation of The Island of Dr. Moreau, ‘Lost Souls’ is drenched in sadistic perversity and who better to headline such a sentiment than Charles Laughton? There are so many reasons why this film is brilliant; not least that it balances questions of deeper meaning with schlocky goodness. On the one hand there are questions about the line between men and animal, does that line even exist and should we even be so bold as to test it? On the other hand there’s Kathleen Burke as ‘The Panther Woman’, a role cast in a publicized nation-wide search and man-animal amalgams on display as Moreau’s slaves are revealed to our hero Ed Parker (Richard Arlen).
The entire film is unsettling and this is exuded through Charles Laughton whose performance cannot be praised enough. He transcends the early talkie stigma and is transfixing in every shot and with every line of dialogue. Take his cruel plan to get the ‘Panther Woman’ to mate with Ed, in the hopes of breeding between one of his creations and a human. He tells her to go speak with him and as she does he watches, his eyes intent with sick voracity. It is sublimely troubling, even as a viewer, to see Laughton so desperate for control that he must be onsite at every possible moment, subtlety be damned.
Moreau’s desperate thirst for god-like control straddles his very real genius and his equally real sadistic nature. Whip-in-hand. his creations become his slaves where he rules his own world, king of his own self-built island of ‘lost souls’. Bela Lugosi has a small but pivotal role as the Sayer of the Law, leader of the animal-men. He asks the others, and the audience “Are we not men?” Devo’s answer to that is “We are Devo”. What’s yours?
1. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1932, Mamoulian)
Studio: Paramount
Summary: Dr. Jekyll faces horrible consequences when he lets his dark side run wild with a potion that changes him into the animalistic Mr. Hyde.
It is necessary to appreciate how much Rouban Mamoulian was doing to experiment with the visual language of narrative film in a time where a primary concern was just getting the sound to come out right. Mamoulian, lucky enough to find a studio that encouraged his inventiveness (instead of requiring that he blend in as was done in the studio era), throws everything at the wall to see what sticks. We open with a 5 minute point-of-view shot that must have been hell to get right and stuns in technical achievement alone. Throughout, we also get innovative use of sound, following up on what he accomplished with 1929’s Applause. This goes so far beyond the limits of what could be considered stylized in a 1932 Hollywood film. But I’ll let you discover that on your own.
A really insightful scene-by-scene write-up of the film exists on a blog called And You Call Yourself a Scientist! I suggest you check it out; I read it immediately after seeing the film. I have never read the book, but there is so much that can be discussed from the adaptation choices (that I’ve read about without having read the source material), to how the visuals support the film’s deeper meanings and what those deeper meanings are. The seedy underground of London provides the backdrop as well as a contrast to decadent upper-class London. Hyde is a brute who gives into his violent urges at the expense of poor poor Miriam Hopkins who really kills it as prostitute Ivy Pearson. Her downfall is not easy to watch, especially by Pre-Code standards, because we actually feel like she has been through something severely traumatic. It may not be seen, but everything that is implied suggests humiliation, torture and rape, and it’s tragic once those implications hit the audience in the face.
The film is ambiguous as to just how much Jekyll remembers of his time as Hyde and it makes for a really active viewing from the audience. Our feelings towards him are being yanked in every direction.
What’s more is that the film uses the Pre-Code freedom in a way that revolves everything around sexual urges. In fact, its message implies that letting oneself go sexually is important. Hyde’s emergence is a result of his repression from Muriel (Rose Hobart), both of whom want to push their wedding date up assumedly so they can get at it (let’s also applaud the film’s matter-of-fact acknowledgement of female sexual urges through Muriel). The film’s ‘sexual repression isn’t good’ streak combats with the other side of the extreme; Hyde’s maniacal which clearly isn’t good either. The villains in most of these other films have other motivations of some kind, but Hyde is just pure cruelty. And what makes him so troubling is that he isn’t unhinged to the point of animal. He is calculating and brutal, and giddy about it. He is a creature operating on sadism; that this is his primary function is what makes him stand out from the crowd.
I chose this as my number one because it knocked me on my feet visually and thematically. It is filled with riches that will undoubtedly continue to reward upon repeat viewings and fantastic work from Fredric March and Miriam Hopkins.
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Review: Drive (2011, Refn)
21 Sep 2011 5 Comments
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, 2011 film, adaptation, Albert Brooks, American genre film, Based on a Novel, blog review, Drive, film review, Genre Filmmaking, homage, influence, James Sallis, Nicolas Winding Refn, Noir, Ryan Gosling
Originally posted on Criterion Cast: September 21st, 2011
Drive (2011, Refn)
It is an all too uncommon feeling when a film ends and you realize you are not yet ready to leave its world. This is the feeling I had when Drive ended, Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest film (and his first American one). It is a slick retro ride, filled with homage and influence, operating as a nostalgic demonstration of American genre filmmaking and oozing European sensibilities, complete with existentialist sleaze and minimalist touches. It is a hybrid creature that dabbles in a number of genres that are all in harmony through Refn’s infectious appreciation for using cinema to create mood and atmosphere.
Ryan Gosling plays The Driver, part of the class of ‘strong silent type’ who has popped up in many films as varied as The Man with No Name Trilogy, Le Samourai and Taxi Driver, to name a few. Through a newly found connection with neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) and a series of unfortunate circumstances, The Driver gets himself caught up in a sticky situation which he ultimately takes control of via the unwavering conviction he displays once he has made the decision to protect.
Since the characters and story of Drive take a backseat to presentation, the film is told with simple efficiency. Drive is working in full-on archetypal territory and it is a clear purposeful choice. As much as Refn creates something evocative from a directorial point of view, I would argue that Gosling’s anchoring of the material provides an almost equally satisfying and necessary contribution. The Driver may belong to an archetype, but like many of his previous incarnations, Gosling (with the help of Refn and screenwriter Hossein Amini) makes his version singular. His ability to emote layers through silence is not only impressive but transfixing. Gone is the hard masculinity one expects to find with this type of role. Even when taking into account the brutal acts of violence he commits, in large part he is seen as a child. This is clear through The Driver’s scenes with Irene’s son Benicio (Kaden Leos). The Driver is referred to as ‘Kid’ by several other characters. In one scene where he and Benicio are talking, another character shouts for ‘Kid’ to come over. Both man and child shuffle over in response.
Through careful observance, we get to know The Driver as he interacts with others. What gets him to lift his head, to verbally respond, intervene or snap at someone? Since Gosling keeps you watching with intent, we in turn care about the answers to these ‘what gets him to’ queries. The audience barely knows him but through his first interactions with Irene, it is easy to tell this is a situation outside of his comfort zone as he responds with passive hesitancy.
The scenes between The Driver and Irene are largely silent. Drive dips into heist territory at its start but primarily begins as a romance in its first third. Their scenes are unspoken and pure. And in a conscious choice to emphasis the silence over dialogue between the two, when they do speak, their communication lacks comparatively.
It is clear that Refn has been influenced at every turn. But it is not a hollow experience; far from it. Perhaps what impressed me the most about Drive is the smoothness with which Refn blends what is a clear unabashed love for both high and low art. He lets them bleed together in what can be succinctly described as effortless cool. There is a stable assuredness in every shot, every movement and every creative choice made here. One cannot help but want to revisit Drive and explore those choices, the motivations behind them and why they work as well as they do. This is confident filmmaking on display. The mere construction of it is something to behold.
Topping off this retro vision is Cliff Martinez’s score which is very clearly tipping its hat to 80’s synth Euro-pop, particularly Tangerine Dream with a delicate touch of Kraftwerk. At the point where the opening credits sequence enter with its splayed cursive hot pink font accompanied by Kavinsky’s ‘Nightcall’, it is practically begging for cinephiles to drool all over it with worship; Drive knows how cool it is and it is not afraid to show off. The lyrics of Martinez’s songs are just overt enough, amusingly walking a fine line between kitsch and corny.
Violence is used to great effect both in how much is shown and exactly when Refn and editor Mat Newman decide to show it. It has an unexpected jolt because it brings the mood-setting to a halt. Instead of making the violence part of the film’s identity like so many do (to wildly varying degrees of success), here violence is used to interrupt the film’s sense of self, existing as a combative force.
There are two characters that make Drive rewarding as a piece of storytelling. One is the Driver and the other is Bernie as played by Albert Brooks. Bernie is in many ways The Driver’s opposite; he largely communicates by telling stories; by speaking. What makes Bernie startling is that the film first humanizes him and then shows us what he is capable of. Brooks has been given a juicy part and he really makes the most of it; it is a terrific performance.
If I have one problem with Drive it is that with archetypes come thankless female characters, and as a result, thankless roles for its actresses. Where Gosling and Brooks (and to a lesser degree Ron Perlman, Bryan Cranston and particularly Oscar Issac) make something of their character types, Carey Mulligan and Christina Hendricks are basically pretty chess pieces within the story. Unfortunately archetypes mean traditional and thus archaic parts for women as Mulligan is there to be protected and Hendricks is there to be a conniving moll.
Style over substance is worth it when there is substance within the style; and that is what Drive has. It tells a simple story with easily identifiable characters, functioning primarily as an exercise in ‘coolness’. But it creates its own world through a mish-mash of influences, thereby forming its own recognizable identity that becomes addictive. With Drive, Refn represents cinema at its most assured, plowing directly into the heart of genre filmmaking.
Review: Submarine (2011, Ayoade) [IFFBoston2011]
03 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in 2011, Film Review Tags: 2011, adaptation, Based on a Book, blog, blog review, Cinema Enthusiast, cinenthusiast, Craig Roberts, Erik Wilson, film review, IFFBoston, IFFBoston2011, Noah Taylor, Paddy Considine, Richard Ayoade, Sally Hawkins, Submarine, Yasmin Paige
Originally posted on Criterion Cast on April 30th, 2011: http://criterioncast.com/2011/04/30/catherine-reviews-richard-ayoades-submarine-iffboston-2011-review/
By the end of Submarine, the audience will have spent ninety minutes in the head of Oliver Tate. It is an inventive mind, one full of hypothetical situations, observations and the typical self-absorption maintained by all teenagers. Richard Ayoade’s film, adapted by Joe Dunthorne’s novel, may not be quite the new classic it is likely destined to become, but it surely deserves its praise for expressing one character’s perspective with humor and insight, using a visual approach that is sure to impress.
Oliver Tate (Craig Roberts) is a fifteen-year old growing up in Swansea. His mother Jill (Sally Hawkins) and father Lloyd (Noah Taylor) are going through a rough patch. Their neighbor Graham (Paddy Considine) is a mullet-wearing guru who claims to see the colors within people. He was Jill’s first love and she seems to be considering an affair with him, much to the chagrin of Oliver who is anxiously keeping track of these developments. In the meantime, he and fellow classmate Jordana (Yasmin Paige), a hardened girl with a bright red coat who moderately enjoys bullying and detests anything romantic, fall into a relationship. His efforts to be a great boyfriend are called into question when he learns that Jordana’s mother is dying of cancer. Oliver juggles this revelation with his efforts to save his parent’s marriage.
The style of the film reflects Oliver and the way he sees life. Unsurprisingly, Submarine pops visually, with sharp editing used to depict a highly subjective viewpoint. Voice-over narration is also used extensively and very successfully to show Oliver’s thought-process. Oliver tends to be overly dramatic, and thus, so is the film. Something that really works in Submarine is how Oliver’s self-absorption is handled. It is the reason for all the stylistic choices made and a lot of his thoughts support just how much of a teenager Oliver really is. His confident ability to sum up his parents in a few short sentences and the way he internally reacts to Jordana’s news are both examples of how Oliver’s self-absorption is realized. This trait of his is confronted head-on towards the end. The entire feel of the film ties in with the very characteristic that has become a problem for Oliver and his dilemma. It is a smart move and one that cannot be praised enough.
The casting and ensemble work of Submarine are a specific highlight. All five main cast members are perfect in their roles. Craig Roberts and Yasmin Paige shine as Oliver and Jordana. Roberts lends an appropriately earnest air while Paige gives Jordana a moody unpredictability that is vital to her character. As the adults, Sally Hawkins, Noah Taylor and Paddy Considine, all incredible actors, are even more entertaining to watch. All three show off their comedic timing as well as pulling off a tough job by portraying their characters as Oliver sees them, but allowing them to exist outside of their perceived caricatures.
Erik Wilson’s cinematography is breathtaking. Every color stands out and the look of the film is rich beyond words. There are many scenes of the coast that radiate artistic beauty. The entire film has a wonderful glow to it and his work here is entirely assured and accomplished. Ayoade is a real talent who goes against the grain in relation to most other youth-based films from the U.K. Some people will see this and categorize it as a Rushmore knock-off. Admittedly I take issue with a few too overt stylistic choices as well as the use of spying and sabotage that harks back too much to the aforementioned film. While this is nowhere near the innovation of Rushmore, it is almost entirely its own work. Thinking about youth-based films from the U.K as usually being very serious pieces about class, gangs or the nature of boarding schools, Submarine emerges as original in its country and it certainly will make its mark in the U.S.
Something that does stick out is that Oliver and Jordana never feel quite genuine enough as a couple. The film gets very close to capitalizing on what is there. The material between them is strong. Both actors are more than excellent in their roles and have a lot of chemistry together. Oliver and Jordana are sufficiently interesting and Jordana adds a panache not often seen in teen romances. As the film goes on though, one starts to think; why should they be together? It feels much more like a legitimate but ultimately passing relationship that is only meaningful in its existing time. At a certain point, it could be said that the audience sees their relationship as Oliver does. However, it still does not account for the unconvincingly placed substantiality between the two. This could be said about the vast majority of romances; the reason I complain about it here is because they were very close to reaching their goal, but came up ever-so-slightly empty.
Submarine is inventive, funny, insightful and honest. It stays true to its protagonist and never betrays him. Oliver makes many matter-of-fact statements that relay extremity, making it easy for the film to look at him as a ridiculous figure; but it never does. This wonderful coming-of-age film throws itself into this self-conscious era of cinema we are in without shame and, despite its occasional misgivings, is all the better for it.
