Archive for September, 2009

“Sometimes people need a little help. Sometimes people need to be forgiven.
And sometimes they need to go to jail.” – Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999)

For one of my classes the other night, I watched The Tenant for the first time.  It’s really an amazing film.  Polanski (who also directed) plays a mousy little guy who rents a small apartment after the previous tenant kills herself.  Then, like most apartment-dwellers in Polanski films, he descends into madness and comes to believe that the other people in the building are trying manipulate him and do him harm.  Urban paranoia and castration anxiety come together, accented by Polanski’s trademark visual style, to form a perfect storm of psychological horror.  If you’ve never seen it, do.  It’s great.

However (and this should go without saying, but it seems that in some circles it doesn’t), possessing the talent to make a film as good as The Tenant does not give one a free pass to rape a child.

Rosemary’s Baby also happens to be one of my favorite horror movies.  It takes the same “paranoia in an apartment building” idea, puts it in a more supernatural context, and mixes in an apt metaphor about the treatment of women and pregnancy in midcentury America.  Mia Farrow is phenomenal in it, and the imagery (particularly the hallucinatory “congress with Satan” scene) is unforgettable.

Like most film studies types, I also have a special place in my heart for Chinatown.  I hated it the first time I watched it as a teenager, but after rewatching it as an adult, I couldn’t remember why.  I suspect because it was so different from the noirs of the 1940′s (which I was into at the time).  Now I realize that that difference is important to its greatness as a film.  Jack Nicholson and John “my first Gandalf” Huston do amazing work.  It’s not my favorite neo-noir of the 1970′s (as the title of this blog makes clear), but it’s a close second.

But as much as I love those films, and as respected and canonized as they are, they don’t make it okay for Polanski to rape a 13-year-old girl (or anyone else, for that matter).  That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop watching or loving the films, but I’m also not going to defend him either.  His actions take nothing away from his films, but his films take nothing away from his actions.

Also, a lot of apologists want to put forward the idea that he didn’t know how old the girl was, or that it was just some cultural difference (implying that in Europe it’s perfectly acceptable for grown men to have sex with 13-year-olds, which I have my doubts about).  To those people, Kate Harding has something to say:

…let’s take a moment to recall that according to the victim’s grand jury testimony, Roman Polanski instructed her to get into a jacuzzi naked, refused to take her home when she begged to go, began kissing her even though she said no and asked him to stop; performed cunnilingus on her as she said no and asked him to stop; put his penis in her vagina as she said no and asked him to stop; asked if he could penetrate her anally, to which she replied, “No,” then went ahead and did it anyway, until he had an orgasm.

Harding’s whole piece is well worth reading, and contains a lot of stuff to keep in mind if you come up against Polanski defenders.

So, to finally come to the point, I’m really glad that Polanski was arrested in Switzerland, and I hope he gets speedily extradited to California.  I realize it’s been quite a while (my whole life, in fact) since all this happened, and that he’s really old, and that his victim has said she’s forgiven him and wishes it would all just go away.  However, this is one time (and there aren’t all that many, so listen up) that I have to come out in favor of the letter of the law.  He raped a girl, admitted he did it, and then ran away to escape punishment.  If he gets away with that, it sends a message to all of society (including potential predators and their potential targets) that certain conditions (wealth, talent, whiteness, a victim status of one’s own, willingness to leave the US for thirty years) make it okay to rape.  Sadly, many of the world’s film lovers are already doing their best to send that very message, but I like to think most of them just don’t get it.

If Polanski ever does get put in front of an American judge, it’s very likely that it will be decided that sending a 76-year-old man to prison is not the thing to do.  Even if that happens, though, at least he’ll have been made to face the music, instead of living out his life in France like he’s above the law.

Judy Garland as Dorothy has the look of a DW Griffith heroine.  She also has a strikingly adult singing voice considering her age at the time.

I used to think the Professor Marvel scene was boring and pointless and delays getting to Oz unnecessarily.  Now I like how it establishes that we’re in the real world, in which people who claim to do magic are charlatans.  At least he’s using his powers of manipulation for good- getting Dorothy to go back home.

I adore Garland’s performance when she first meets Glinda, from her delivery of “Now I know we’re not in Kansas anymore,” to the way she looks around when Glinda asks what kind of witch she is.

The Lollipop Guild is pretty much the best thing ever put on film.  That weird kick-dance they do, and their facial expressions, and the devil’s haircut.  There’s no way in which it could be better.

I’m going to come out and say it: I think Margaret Hamilton was pretty damn hot in her day.  Granted, the fake nose and chin don’t do much for her, but her energetic performance and mindblowing voice work make up for it in my book.  She’s definitely a sexier witch than Billie Burke.

The physicality of Ray Bolger’s performance is really something to behold.  Even before we meet the Scarecrow, he has a great moment as a Kansas farmhand, hitting his finger with a hammer and spinning around.  I want to see this guy in more stuff.

Could the Tin Man possibly seem any gayer?  I don’t think that reading was intended, and Jack Haley was straight in real life, but it is kind of amazing how much his every line, gesture, and facial expression gives off a queer vibe.

The Emerald City’s look is much more sci fi than fantasy, as are the costumes of most of its inhabitants (except for the Coachman, who looks like a leprechaun).  There’s a very Flash Gordon aesthetic at play.

I always forget how many characters Frank Morgan plays in this movie (five, for the record).  I’ve never been sure if we’re meant to read the Gatekeeper, the Coachman, and the Guard as actually being the Wizard in disguise.

It’s always seemed strange to me how the Lion gets his own song (“If I Were King of the Forest”) and the Tin Man and Scarecrow don’t.  The stuff Bert Lahr does with his voice is pretty fantastic, though.

The Guard just totally vanishes when he lets them in to the Wizard’s chamber.  That does point to him being the Wizard.

Beloved quotes aside, the best line in the movie has to be, “Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness?”

What is the deal with the Wizard’s cheeks?  Are they stuffed with something?  They freak me out.

As a kid I wondered if the Tin Man and Lion were jealous about Dorothy’s attraction to the Scarecrow.  Now I realize they were probably more interested in each other.

When Professor Marvel shows up at Dorothy’s window at the end of the movie, it’s a very “for no reason, here’s Apu” moment.  Also, the whole thing where Margaret Hamilton wants to give Toto to the sheriff is never resolved even a little bit.

I said in my last entry that I wasn’t planning a memorial post about Larry Gelbart (writer of some of the 20th Century’s funniest stuff), but I did want to let you know that my film guru mentor Dr. Jay Malarcher, who was Gelbart’s friend and biographer, has written a wonderful tribute to the comedy legend over at Zagreblog.

Since I don’t really have anything to add to his words, I’ll leave you with a funny scene from one of Gelbart’s most celebrated works, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum:

I thought about doing memorial posts about Larry Gelbart and Patrick Swayze.  The thing is, though, it would have been mainly out of a sense of obligation because this is (primarily) a film blog and they’re reasonably important figures in film history.  When I heard about Henry Gibson, on the other hand, I actually had an emotional reaction.  Gibson was a character actor who appeared in some of my favorite films, and was fantastic in everything he ever did.

I was hoping to find a YouTube clip of Henry Gibson from Nashville or Magnolia, but if there are any they’re buried under old floor wax ads, Laugh-In blooper reels, and creepy Right Wing presentations of the song “200 Years” that completely miss that it’s a parody.  Fortunately, I did find this great scene of him as a rather flamboyant Wonder Woman villain:

This is the sort of character that Gibson was great at.  He was a small man, and not conventionally masculine, but his characters frequently dominated everyone around him.  In The Long Goodbye, he exerts control over the bearlike Sterling Hayden through sheer force of will.  In Nashville, he rules the town with an iron fist camouflaged by a glittering Nudie suit.  In P. T. Anderson’s Magnolia, he can be read as a godlike figure- an omniscient but indifferent Olympian embodied as a bitchy old queen.  It’s that tension- that culturally constructed disconnect between nelly and dom, between tiny and loud, that makes his performances so interesting.

Admittedly, in these first few months of Fleischer Fridays, I’ve been staying away from Popeye.  That’s because when I was a kid I hated Popeye cartoons, regarding them as universally boring.  What I’ve since learned is that the boring cartoons I remember (and they really are mind-numbing) were made by Famous Studios, who got the rights to the characters after Fleischer folded.  They made some cruddy Superman cartoons as well, actually.  Fortunately, Betty and friends never had to suffer this fate, because they’d long since ceased production.

So it turns out the early Popeyes made at Fleischer are actually pretty funny.  They’re still not as good as the early Betty and Bimbo cartoons, but they’re way better than that crap that came later.  Mostly they revolve around fight scenes.  Bluto (or some similar character) spends long enough acting like a jerk that you really want to watch Popeye kick his ass, and then Popeye kicks his ass.  Along the way, Wimpy eats hamburgers and Olive Oyl acts whiny and fickle.

This cartoon is no exception to that formula.  Sinbad (or Sindbad, if you prefer) is clearly just Bluto in a costume, and the whole first act is just him bragging about what an utter badass he is, and how he can never be bested in a fight.  Obviously, any kid watching this (in 1936 or today) is thinking, “Man, I can’t wait for Popeye to show up, eat some spinach, and kick the snot out of this fool,” and Popeye cartoons are not about thwarting expectations.

Given its formulaic plot, the primary appeal of this cartoon is its spectacle.  It was the first color Popeye short, and only the second color Fleischer cartoon (the first was Betty Boop’s Poor Cinderella which we’ll get to one of these days).  It makes extensive use of the three-dimensional backgrounds that Fleischer Studios was experimenting with at the time.  Out of these real looking caves comes an impressive menagerie of creatures, who have the classic Fleischer look but translated into technicolor.  The roc is an especially nice one, taking off like an airplane while still looking like a living creature.  Its fate at Popeye’s hands is also something to see, and even a little shocking to today’s more sensitive audiences.

One of my favorite things about Popeye as a character is his mumbling, which occasionally veers off into a strange sort of scat.  Bimbo was already doing this earlier in the 30′s, but Jack Mercer’s Popeye raises it to an art form.  He even scats as he swims!  Mae Questel, who we’ve already discussed as the voice of Betty Boop, also portrayed Olive Oyl.  Olive is unappealing in all the ways Betty is appealing, and yet there are decades of cartoons where the sole plot is two guys fighting over her.  Questel’s high-pitched squeak (less sultry and more whiny as Olive) is perfect for the part.

I definitely have mixed feelings about the trailer for the new version of The Wolfman.

First off, I think Benicio del Toro is the perfect choice to play the Lon Chaney, Jr. role.  He has a similar “lumpy but handsome” look, and he can pull off that constant expression of worry that Chaney did so well.  I’m much less excited about Anthony Hopkins replacing Claude Rains as the father.  Rains was an amazing actor who delighted in every role, giving it his best regardless of the quality of the production.  Hopkins, especially in the last few years, seems to get by mostly on just the perception that he’s a great actor, rarely putting too much effort into anything.  The old Gypsy woman who was so important in the original, and played beautifully by Maria Ouspenskaya, is barely in the trailer (but she is played by Altman alum Geraldine Chaplin).  Instead, we get a lot of Emily Blunt in the Evelyn Ankers role (although in this version she seems to actually like Larry, instead of just putting up with him) and a newly added Scotland Yard detective played by Hugo Weaving.

As good an actor as Weaving is, his presence and other additions to the story make me worry a bit.  I’m not the sort who thinks you should never change anything when you remake an old film.  The 1941 Wolfman is pretty dated, and changing the setting to Victorian times will probably make a lot of the elements work better.  However, there are so many different things going on in this trailer that I’m worried the film is going to be as bloated as Peter Jackson’s King Kong.  All the stuff with the mental institution, the ice bath, Larry tied to a chair in some kind of auditorium… Let’s just say I have my doubts.  One of the strengths of the original is what a tight little story it is.  The image of the Wolfman bounding across the rooftops of London is an appealing one, but I dread the long progression of tedius scenes it may take to get him there.

Visually, though, the film and its title creature look great.  I’m extremely happy they kept the werewolf makeup pretty similar to the classic version, with a little bit of Oliver Reed’s Curse of the Werewolf mixed in.  We’ve seen so many long-snouted CGI behemoths in the last few years that it’s nice to see they didn’t forget that this is the Wolfman.  There are also plenty of shots of the sort of misty fairy tale forest that gave the original its atmosphere.  It’s just sharing screen time with a rather clichéd Victorian asylum.

Dear Mr. Lasseter,

As the head of animation for Disney/Pixar, I’m sure you know all about your parent company buying Marvel Comics.  You may have even known before it became public, although it’s also possible that the suits kept that to themselves until the last possible moment.

One of the effects of this acquisition, of course, is that Disney will have access to all of Marvel’s characters, to do with as they please.  In interviews, the Disney people have promised a hands-off  approach, but nobody who knows Disney thinks that sounds very likely.  Probably such claims are just to reassure the comic book fans, who fear change more than most.  So you and your people at Pixar must surely be taking a long look at all the diverse titles and characters Marvel owns, thinking about what would work well as a gorgeously realized CGI family film.

I have two words for you, Mr. Lasseter: Devil Dinosaur.  You’re obviously a lifelong geek, so it’s possible you’re already familiar with this particular masterwork, but I’ll explain just in case.  Devil Dinosaur is the creation of the greatest comic book artist of all time, Jack Kirby.  The title character is an intelligent, friendly tyrannosaurus rex who was permanently turned bright red by a fire.  A misfit amongst the other dinosaurs, he wanders the prehistoric countryside with his constant companion, Moon Boy, a fur-covered ancestor of humanity.  Together, they fight aliens.  Seriously.

Can you imagine a better Pixar movie than this?  Because I can’t.  A bright red dinosaur.  A talking monkey.  Aliens.  A story about an unlikely friendship (I know how much you like those).  I know there might be some concern that the dino-befriending-missing-link plotline is a little too similar to Disney’s Dinosaur.  That would be a horrible excuse not to make this movie, though, because nobody (and I mean nobody) saw Disney’s Dinosaur.  I know I didn’t.  Pixar’s Devil Dinosaur, on the other hand, I’d see five or six times.

If you’re still unsure, check out this post from comic book historian Chris Sims, in which he shares five panels that embody the greatness that is Devil Dinosaur.  “Bonk bonk bonk” indeed.

Sure, Marvel owns plenty of characters that are far more famous than DD and Moon Boy.  However, adapting a property that everyone is familiar with creates a whole new set of problems when it comes to expectations.  On the other hand, how can you go wrong adapting something nobody’s heard of, especially when it’s made of pure awesome?  Also, since I’m sure you’re already wondering, there is a crusty old caveman character who’ll be a perfect part for John Ratzenberger.  I know you already have the next three or four Pixar movies in preproduction, but just add this one to the queue.  There’s no hurry; unlike pirates and vampires, dinosaurs and aliens will never stop being cool.

Thank you for your time, sir.  I’m looking forward to Toy Story 3, despite my discomfort with a recasting of Slinky Dog.  But that’s an issue for another day.

Sincerely, Dustin

Prior to this film, I admit I’ve stayed away from the Mumblecore movement.  Not that there was anything I objected to about it, just that I’ve been otherwise occupied.  So I can’t really comment on how Lynn Shelton’s Humpday fits into that context.  On its own merits, though, it definitely lives up to the positive buzz it’s received.

This is a pretty simple movie about two straight guys who decide to have sex and film it.  Having been aware of this premise going in, I was really impressed with how believable it was.  Thanks to a fully realized dynamic between the characters and an escalating sense of pressure, I was ready to buy that these were two genuinely heterosexual men who were seriously planning to sleep together.  Andrew (Josh Leonard) is a globetrotting Bohemian who calls himself an artist but has a problem finishing actual projects.  Ben  (Mark Duplass) is his best friend from college, who has settled down with a wife and an office job.  When the idea of them screwing on film comes up at a party, neither of them is willing to be the sort of person who can’t do something like this.  Andrew knows he’s 100% straight, and feels on some level that being thus limited is a betrayal of his values.  Ben loves his wife and the life he’s built with her, but feels like he might have settled down before he really figured himself out.

The acting is what really makes this film work, and it is stellar.  The naturalistic dialogue is believable enough, but the facial expressions of the actors, particularly in the many moments of awkward silence, approach the sublime.  Leonard, Duplass, and Alicia Delmore as Ben’s wife Anne are all so exceptional I’m not sure I could even pick a favorite.  Although sex is central to the plot, Humpday is all about intercourse in the other sense of the word.  The joy of the movie is in watching these three people pair off in every possible combination for intense, awkward, and funny one-on-one conversations.

The view of masculinity presented in the film is extremely refreshing.  In fact, it makes the stuff that passes for groundbreaking in Hollywood (the emotions expressed between men in Judd Apatow films, for example) seem absurdly limited.  There’s also a lot of truth expressed in the argument between Ben and Andrew about whether or not there’s an uncrossable line between their lifestyles.  It turns out that Andrew, who’s supposedly the open-minded one, has a more black and white view of things than Ben.  Ben’s frustration at this rings true for anyone who’s ever gotten trapped in the role of the square in a group of artists.

As the big event draws closer, it remains impossible to predict whether or not the guys will go through with the deed.  Once the question is answered, though, it seems impossible that it could have gone any other way.  My one complaint about the film is that aspects of the ending seem slightly by-the-book for an indie film, but every previous moment is so perfect that I’m more than willing to overlook that minor problem.

YouTube was having troubles last night that precluded the preparation of a new Fleischer Friday, so I posted an overdue Character Spotlight instead.  Fleischer should return next week, but in the meantime, here’s a picture I made of what I would look like as a Fleischer Studios character:

You’ll note that this Fleischerized version of me is lecturing about a Fleischer cartoon (specifically “Bimbo’s Initiation“), which only seems right and natural.

Count Dracula has become such a deeply ingrained part of our culture that at first glance he looks more like a cliché than a character.  He appears in pop songs, candy commercials, and newspaper comics.  Variations adorn cereal boxes and teach children math.  According to IMDb, he’s been portrayed in 217 movies and television series, starting with 1922′s Nosferatu.  He’s so ubiquitous that it’s easy not to think about him at all.  Recently, though, I’ve been thinking about him a lot.

The catalyst was a viewing of Guy Maddin’s Dracula: Pages from a Virgin’s Diary.  Maddin’s collaboration with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet is a totally unique film, despite tackling such a well worn story.  It’s not the usual sort of recording of a staged ballet; it’s a silent film in which dance is used in place of conventional acting.  That’s not to say that no acting goes on.  The dancers excel at capturing emotion in their faces, it’s just that they also express themselves through their bodies in ways no non-dancing actor could.  Zhang Wei-Qiang is a fantastic dancing Dracula, and Tara Birtwhistle is probably the most memorable Lucy I’ve ever seen.  Refreshingly, the film takes for granted that the audience knows the basic story by now, which enables the action to dig deeper into imagery and symbolism than would be possible while making room for exposition.

In his DVD commentary, Maddin says, “I don’t think Dracula really exists.  He’s just an embodiment of female lust and male jealousy.”  It’s a hard theory to disagree with.  Count Dracula is a Victorian English nightmare of a dangerous foreigner whose unwelcome presence lures formerly chaste women away from their respectable English husbands.  He’s simultaneously cultured and animalistic, irresistable and yet tainted with ill-defined disease.  Of course, it’s not just women who are drawn to him.  In some takes on the story, Dracula only seduces Jonathan Harker to get to his fiancé Mina, and in other versions it’s the other way around.  Regardless, he clearly has his way with both of them, not to mention Renfield and Lucy along the way.  He keeps a harem of three beautiful female vampires, but seems to use them mostly to lure in male guests, like the stereotypical gay predator with a stack of playboys in his drawer.  He’s not bisexual so much as haemosexual- if there’s blood in your veins, that’s enough to get Dracula going.

There’s a vulnerable side to Dracula too, although Maddin chooses not to explore that.  In Bram Stoker’s novel, though, there are hints of it.  Count Dracula is a relic of time long gone, who finds himself in a world that’s changing at an ever-increasing rate.  After centuries in his castle in the undeveloped East, he moves to England because that’s where things are happening.  In the Dark Ages, an established vampire could stay in one place indefinitely, picking off untraceable travelers and uneducated peasants who would never dare come after him with torches and stakes.  After all, as a member of the nobility, the Count had the authority to take whatever he wanted from his subjects, even their blood.  With the spread of industrialization, everything begins to change.  Dracula’s doing his best to adjust, to keep up, to try new things, but change isn’t easy for a man whose heart stopped beating centuries ago.

In Bela Lugosi’s legendary performance in Tod Browning’s Dracula, we see a count who is imposing while still seeming immaterial.  He moves and speaks at a different speed and rhythm from those around him, as though living partly in a different dimension.  Some of this is certainly just Lugosi being an oddball and not too good at English, but that’s why he’s synonymous with the part.  He’s sad and angry and lustful all at the same time, but beneath these recognizable emotions lurk more primal and unfathomable motivations.  He’s part ghost and part animal, and still working on teaching himself to act like a man.

Of course, there have been plenty of other interesting Counts between Lugosi and Zhang.  Christopher Lee was the reigning cinematic Dracula for nearly two decades, and he brought a masculine ferocity to the role, but all of the movies were sadly lacking.  Jack Palance, Louis Jourdan, and Frank Langella all did Draculas that are worth checking out, although none of them stand up to the classics.  Gary Oldman is quite good in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, despite being hampered by too many make-up changes and a miscast Jonathan and Mina.  The first Dracula I have memories of was Duncan Regehr in The Monster Squad, who does a great job embodying the composite Dracula who exists in the imagination of every American child.

As many cinematic Draculas as there have been in the past eight decades, there will certainly be many more in the future.  It’s doubtful any will make the same kind of impression as Browning and Lugosi, but hopefully a few will offer a variation as unique as Maddin and Zhang.  After all, the greatest thing about characters who penetrate the cultural consciousness and stick around forever is that once we’ve learned who they are, we get to see how many different ways we can look at them.