Make no mistake; there are downsides to being a film critic. For example, you have no idea how many ice cube I had to see suffer and vanish in my various gin and tonics while some studio flunky tells me about the next big thing – whether it be a movie or star. Nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of a thousand these guys are nothing but a lot of talk in a bag, but every once in a while…
One early afternoon in late 1947 after suffering through the endless screenings of two movies that hopefully burned in some tragic fire, I decided to ease my pain with a sandwich and several gin-and-tonics at the Brown Derby. Before the glass even hits my lips, I hear “here’s my guy. The world’s greatest film critic.”
I didn’t need to turn around. I knew Freddy Kohlmar’s booming voice anywhere. His actual title was producer, but in actuality, he was just one of Sam Goldwyn’s stooges. I was about to tell him off when I saw he was with someone. He had a young face and a receding blond hairline, which made him look anywhere from 25 to 40. Plus, the skin appeared to be stretched tight across his broad forehead that gave him a slight look of menace despite the forced smile across his face. Freddy had been dragging this poor lad across town.
“Yes, Fred,” I said trying to control my temper with few monosyllabic words.
“Jimmy, my boy,” Freddy said, knowing I hate when people call me Jimmy. “This is the next big star. Right here. Just made his debut. Gonna be real big.”
“What movie?” I asked.
“The new Mature film.”
Victor Mature was a serviceable actor, especially when he was in a supporting role like in My Darling Clementine, but he never did much for me as a leading man. He just lacks a heroic quality that was necessary for leading men of those days. The movie in question was “Kiss of Death,” which I had not scene. I actually wasn’t going to until I saw that Benny Hecht wrote it, so I figured I give it a try.
Little did I know that the movie would actually be quite remarkable and the biggest reason for that would be the odd looking man that Kohlmar introduced me to that early afternoon – Richard Widmark.
In years to come, Dick would make quite a name for himself playing the luckless schnook surviving by the skin of his teeth in a long series of Westerns and Noirs. He also lacked that heroic quality, but he compensated with a marvelous everyman approach that would have made him quite successful today (think Tom Hanks).
I’ve always said that acting is far less important than casting, but there are exceptions to that rule. Kiss of Death would be Exception Number 1. After meeting this quiet young former high school drama teacher, there is no way in God’s Green Earth that I would have guessed that he could pull off the role of Tommy Udo. Up until that time and maybe up until today, Udo might have been the most sadistic and psychopathic character to grace the silver screen. The plot of the movie was about Udo trying to get revenge on a former prison cellmate, but who cares. The fun of this movie is watch Dick storm through around and over the screen, chewing up scenery the whole way.
Over fifty years later, people still talk about the time that Widmark (in character, of course) threw the wheelchair-bound old lady down a flight of steps, cackling while the lady screamed and the metal on the chair banged down each step. That may have been the single most shocking moment I’ve ever seen in a film. And what sold the whole thing was that cackle – that high pitched giggle that Dick perfected as he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes.
Years later, Dick told me that the director, veteran Henry Hathaway, didn’t want to use him, said he didn’t have the right look. Of course, I laughed. How ridiculous is that? I knew he was perfect for the role all the time.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Monday, July 09, 2007
Schindler's List *****
I understand it’s a true story. At the end of the movie, a large, brooding man stands before a crowd of Jews during a ceremony in Jerusalem, honoring him as a “Righteous Person.” Everyone is there to honor him. Before he starts his speech, the man looks at a silver watch on his wrist with the stretched bands. He pulls the watch off and looks at it.
“I could have saved one with this. I could have saved one more.”
As his eyes tear up, he pulls off the golden ring off his left hand – off his ring finger. After staring at it for a couple of second, the tears run down his cheeks and he said to the crowd, but more to himself, “I could have save another with this. I had this then. I could have saved another.”
There’s an old saying in athletics – great teams aren’t always great; they’re just great when they have to be. The line can be used for humanity as well. People aren’t always great; they’re just great when they have to be.
Oskar Schindler wasn’t great before 1939 and he wasn’t great after 1945. He was just great when he had to be.
The chief goal of the human race is perfection. That goal has never been achieved and probably never will. This is a bad thing I guess for our people, but a good thing for literature. Perfect people are boring. Take Shakespeare for example – King Lear was not perfect, Hamlet was not perfect, and Richard III was sure as hell not perfect. Great literature is about people overcoming personnel defects and worldly obstacles. Without that drama, great fiction could not exist.
For many years, certainly when I was alive, this man did not get his due by a long shot, but it appears because of Thomas Keneally majestic book, Steven Zaillian’s beautiful screenplay, Steven Spielberg’s brilliant film and Liam Neeson’s chilling performance, he will not be not be forgotten.
Schindler’s List is about as perfect a movie as there is. The acting is superlative; the camera work is remarkable and you could tell Spielberg was feeling this.
For those who don’t know (and shame on you if you don’t), here’s the story. Oskar Schindler was a member of the Nazi party by convenience only. He didn’t like what they were doing, but he saw a business opportunity here. To borrow Zallian’s line, “I finally figured out what I needed to be a success. War.” Schindler owned an enamel factory that produced pots and pans and others items for the German war machine.
One of the first executives he hired was Itzhak Stern, a Jewish accountant (playing so brilliantly by Ben Kingsley that I didn’t even recognize him; it actually took me two screenings to realize that it was Ghandi). Stern took the opportunity to convince his boss to hire as many of his doomed race as possible to save them from the gas chamber. At great risk to both of them, Jews of various abilities were saved from the gas chamber by these heroic men. I’m not a big fan of the adjective heroic since it is so over used, but in this case it doesn’t say enough. At the end of the way, Schindler save about 1,100 Jews from execution.
The story itself is dramatic enough, but it is the little touches that Zaillian and Spielberg add that make this film truly great. How better to describe the horrors of the Nazis that to have a bunch of Jewish women in a gas chamber waiting for execution only to have water spill out of the spigots instead of the noxious fumes? How about Neeson sitting on horseback while watching Jews being herded into carts destined for the concentration camps agonizing what his country is doing? There’s also the brutal scene where Amon Goeth, the sadistic Nazi (sorry for the oxymoron) played memorably by Ralph Finnes, stood on his balcony, bare-chested, gut hanging out, with a rifle on his shoulder, picking off people below him.
With all that in mind, my favorite scene was when Oskar met one of Stern’s recent hires for the assembly line and realized that he only had one arm. As you read this dialogue, keep in mind that company’s like Schindler’s were only allowed to hire “useful” Jews, so this man, if caught, might have put the whole operation in jeopardy.
“The man only has one arm,” Schindler told his accountant.
“He’s very useful,” Stern said as he tries to walk away.
“He only has one arm!” Schindler said incredulously as he chases after his assistant.
“Very useful.”
In many films, you can tell who the driving force was, but as I’ve discovered over the decades, with the truly great films, there are many driving performers. In the case of this film, there’s Zaillian’s script, Janusz Kamiński’s haunting black and white photography, the great acting, Michael Kahn’s smooth editing, and so on.
The great directors, like Scorsese, Lubitsch, and many others, can credit to their success the ability to hire good and appropriate people for each job, and then guide them to their vision while mostly staying out of their way. Spielberg has not always been able to do this, but here he did. And it shows.
With all that said, the main reason this movie achieved greatness is the subject matter for whom history finally paid his due. Let me put it this way – I see Oskar up here. I don’t see Amon Goeth.
“I could have saved one with this. I could have saved one more.”
As his eyes tear up, he pulls off the golden ring off his left hand – off his ring finger. After staring at it for a couple of second, the tears run down his cheeks and he said to the crowd, but more to himself, “I could have save another with this. I had this then. I could have saved another.”
There’s an old saying in athletics – great teams aren’t always great; they’re just great when they have to be. The line can be used for humanity as well. People aren’t always great; they’re just great when they have to be.
Oskar Schindler wasn’t great before 1939 and he wasn’t great after 1945. He was just great when he had to be.
The chief goal of the human race is perfection. That goal has never been achieved and probably never will. This is a bad thing I guess for our people, but a good thing for literature. Perfect people are boring. Take Shakespeare for example – King Lear was not perfect, Hamlet was not perfect, and Richard III was sure as hell not perfect. Great literature is about people overcoming personnel defects and worldly obstacles. Without that drama, great fiction could not exist.
For many years, certainly when I was alive, this man did not get his due by a long shot, but it appears because of Thomas Keneally majestic book, Steven Zaillian’s beautiful screenplay, Steven Spielberg’s brilliant film and Liam Neeson’s chilling performance, he will not be not be forgotten.
Schindler’s List is about as perfect a movie as there is. The acting is superlative; the camera work is remarkable and you could tell Spielberg was feeling this.
For those who don’t know (and shame on you if you don’t), here’s the story. Oskar Schindler was a member of the Nazi party by convenience only. He didn’t like what they were doing, but he saw a business opportunity here. To borrow Zallian’s line, “I finally figured out what I needed to be a success. War.” Schindler owned an enamel factory that produced pots and pans and others items for the German war machine.
One of the first executives he hired was Itzhak Stern, a Jewish accountant (playing so brilliantly by Ben Kingsley that I didn’t even recognize him; it actually took me two screenings to realize that it was Ghandi). Stern took the opportunity to convince his boss to hire as many of his doomed race as possible to save them from the gas chamber. At great risk to both of them, Jews of various abilities were saved from the gas chamber by these heroic men. I’m not a big fan of the adjective heroic since it is so over used, but in this case it doesn’t say enough. At the end of the way, Schindler save about 1,100 Jews from execution.
The story itself is dramatic enough, but it is the little touches that Zaillian and Spielberg add that make this film truly great. How better to describe the horrors of the Nazis that to have a bunch of Jewish women in a gas chamber waiting for execution only to have water spill out of the spigots instead of the noxious fumes? How about Neeson sitting on horseback while watching Jews being herded into carts destined for the concentration camps agonizing what his country is doing? There’s also the brutal scene where Amon Goeth, the sadistic Nazi (sorry for the oxymoron) played memorably by Ralph Finnes, stood on his balcony, bare-chested, gut hanging out, with a rifle on his shoulder, picking off people below him.
With all that in mind, my favorite scene was when Oskar met one of Stern’s recent hires for the assembly line and realized that he only had one arm. As you read this dialogue, keep in mind that company’s like Schindler’s were only allowed to hire “useful” Jews, so this man, if caught, might have put the whole operation in jeopardy.
“The man only has one arm,” Schindler told his accountant.
“He’s very useful,” Stern said as he tries to walk away.
“He only has one arm!” Schindler said incredulously as he chases after his assistant.
“Very useful.”
In many films, you can tell who the driving force was, but as I’ve discovered over the decades, with the truly great films, there are many driving performers. In the case of this film, there’s Zaillian’s script, Janusz Kamiński’s haunting black and white photography, the great acting, Michael Kahn’s smooth editing, and so on.
The great directors, like Scorsese, Lubitsch, and many others, can credit to their success the ability to hire good and appropriate people for each job, and then guide them to their vision while mostly staying out of their way. Spielberg has not always been able to do this, but here he did. And it shows.
With all that said, the main reason this movie achieved greatness is the subject matter for whom history finally paid his due. Let me put it this way – I see Oskar up here. I don’t see Amon Goeth.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
The Trial of Billy Jack (- a lot of stars)
During The Trial of Billy Jack, the remake of the sadistically horrible Billy Jack, the title character tells his lawyer that “death” is his constant companion. Apparently, death doesn’t actually do anything, at least not to Billy Jack, it just hangs around. By the third hour of this movie, death was my only hope. I was even open to bribery.
By the way, that wasn’t a typo. Three hours. Three hours! Three God forsaken hours! Three hours of Billy Jack pulling off his shoes and socks off and kicking people. Three hours of Billy Jack whining about how the “system” is out to get him. Three hours. You go to hell, Laughlin. I hope you rocket to hell and burn in molten lava for eternity for inflicting this piece of feces on the world. I can’t believe someone read this script (written by guess who) and pulled out a real check and actually wrote numbers down, then signed it. What the hell is wrong with people?
Dolemite was better than this. At least, Dolemite was so bad it was funny. The only preaching (i.e. whining) in Dolemite was about the…uh…sanitary conditions in regards to some of the working girls.
The Trial in question is referring to the murder at the end of “Billy Jack – The First Abomination”. It was a very controversial case, considering the fact that, you know, he did it. There he goes. The Man’s sticking it to Billy Jack again. How dare they put Billy Jack in jail for killing other people? In all honesty, I was pissed off about the verdict as well. Involuntary manslaughter? I’m assuming this is over the Bernard thing after he raped Jean in “Billy Jack – The First Abomination”. If that’s the case, he wiped Bernard out in cold blood. I’m not saying Bernard wasn’t a swine and deserved to spend some quality time in agonizing pain, but so does Billy Jack as far as I’m concerned. Either way, it was murder. I can’t believe I’m analyzing this
The whole trial sequence lasts about 15 minutes - just enough time for Billy to explain to the court that the government is evil, the Marines are evil and he did the whole thing because of My Lai. You think I’m exaggerating? I’m just stunned that Laughlin, he of the Disraeli-sized monologues, actually kept this within 15 minutes. They probably let him off with involuntary manslaughter just to shut him up. Beside the point, I thought he killed Bernard because the kid raped Jean. How did Lt. Calley get into this? Maybe Bernard is a metaphor for William Calley. Sure.
Okay, so let me get this straight. The movie is called the Trial of Billy Jack, we’re 15 minutes in, the trial is over, and we’ve got 2 hours and 45 minutes to go. 165 minutes. Christ. The Ten Commandments wasn’t this long and that story might have been a little more, you know, significant. Don’t tell Laughlin that though. I really hate Tommy boy.
One hundred and 65 minutes. Gone with the Wind was only 42 minutes longer and that was unbearable. I can’t do this. I’ll be back.
That’s better. Seven old-fashioneds and a pack of cigarettes in a little over an hour and I’m ready to go. Well, the Freedom School, the place on Indian grounds that was the cause of all the problems the first time around, is doing well. They’ve expanded their curriculum to including band marching and belly dancing. Really.
Back when this was made, these Laughlin films were said to be wonderful for showing the plight of the Indians. I don’t get it. At least in Ford’s movies, the Native Americans fought back. Here they get their revenue by belly dancing them into the ground. To think that the incredible resourceful Native Americans would do that is in my mind offensive.
I like the true story better. The Indians take a tiny piece of land and beg for sovereignty from the feds. Once they get that they build the world’s biggest casino and send millions scurrying to Gambler’s Anonymous. When the money started rolling in, Uncle Sam, after damning the evils of gambling, of course, starts looking for his cut and, God bless them, the Indians respond with a short guttural verb followed by “you.” Sovereignty, remember. He he he. That’s how you stick it to the Man. Why doesn’t someone do a movie about this?
Where was I? Oh, so, some rich guy hates this school and does everything he can to polish them off. At least Ben Gazzara in Road House had a motive – greed. Unless the belly dancing industry has skyrocketed since I kicked off, these folks aren’t making any money.
Just when things look worse for the Freedom School, Billy Jack gets released. You’d think if the government is so against him, they would have left him in stir long enough for the Ben Gazzara guy to take over the school, but that’s neither here nor there, I guess. I spoke too soon, the F.B.I. is bugging the school because the kids start a newspaper and expose a scandal connecting American corporations (none specifically) to the energy crisis and the Israeli war. The Times dropped the ball on that one.
Thankfully, the “students” find and destroy the taps. They also invent a thinkymabob that, by analyzing a person's voice, can prove when someone’s lying. The person doesn’t even need to be in the room works just as well though the television screen or radio. Now this almost sounds interesting. Sounds like you could have the F.B.I. try to capture this secret and get thwarted by the very device they are trying to find. Of course, the thinnymabob is never mentioned again.
Now that Laughlin is out of jail, he has something very important to do before saving the little Einstein kids – vision quests. What the hell? Guess I’ve got to look this one up while pouring another drink.
I knew I was going to regret this.
“A vision quest is a rite of passage, similar to an initiation, in some Native American cultures. Vision quest preparations involve a time of fasting, the guidance of a tribal Medicine Man and sometimes ingestion of natural entheogens; this quest is undertaken for the first time in the early teenage years….” Whatever.
You pray to this guy, take mind altering stuff, nearly go insane and it lasts two to three days, just like watching this movie.
A bunch of stuff happens, a bomb goes off and the National Guard is sent in by the governor. In a subtle reference to Kent State, Laughlin has the Guard open fire on the school. After which, Laughlin defends the school against the soldiers (the platoon of soldiers, by the way) in a Mexican Standoff. Fade to Black
Of course, they don’t shoot him, just the kids. On one side you have a bunch of kids who can outsmart the F.B.I. and invent devices that N.A.S.A. couldn’t dream of and on the other side you have a guy who insists on taking off his sock every time he kicks someone.
There’s government efficiency for you.
By the way, that wasn’t a typo. Three hours. Three hours! Three God forsaken hours! Three hours of Billy Jack pulling off his shoes and socks off and kicking people. Three hours of Billy Jack whining about how the “system” is out to get him. Three hours. You go to hell, Laughlin. I hope you rocket to hell and burn in molten lava for eternity for inflicting this piece of feces on the world. I can’t believe someone read this script (written by guess who) and pulled out a real check and actually wrote numbers down, then signed it. What the hell is wrong with people?
Dolemite was better than this. At least, Dolemite was so bad it was funny. The only preaching (i.e. whining) in Dolemite was about the…uh…sanitary conditions in regards to some of the working girls.
The Trial in question is referring to the murder at the end of “Billy Jack – The First Abomination”. It was a very controversial case, considering the fact that, you know, he did it. There he goes. The Man’s sticking it to Billy Jack again. How dare they put Billy Jack in jail for killing other people? In all honesty, I was pissed off about the verdict as well. Involuntary manslaughter? I’m assuming this is over the Bernard thing after he raped Jean in “Billy Jack – The First Abomination”. If that’s the case, he wiped Bernard out in cold blood. I’m not saying Bernard wasn’t a swine and deserved to spend some quality time in agonizing pain, but so does Billy Jack as far as I’m concerned. Either way, it was murder. I can’t believe I’m analyzing this
The whole trial sequence lasts about 15 minutes - just enough time for Billy to explain to the court that the government is evil, the Marines are evil and he did the whole thing because of My Lai. You think I’m exaggerating? I’m just stunned that Laughlin, he of the Disraeli-sized monologues, actually kept this within 15 minutes. They probably let him off with involuntary manslaughter just to shut him up. Beside the point, I thought he killed Bernard because the kid raped Jean. How did Lt. Calley get into this? Maybe Bernard is a metaphor for William Calley. Sure.
Okay, so let me get this straight. The movie is called the Trial of Billy Jack, we’re 15 minutes in, the trial is over, and we’ve got 2 hours and 45 minutes to go. 165 minutes. Christ. The Ten Commandments wasn’t this long and that story might have been a little more, you know, significant. Don’t tell Laughlin that though. I really hate Tommy boy.
One hundred and 65 minutes. Gone with the Wind was only 42 minutes longer and that was unbearable. I can’t do this. I’ll be back.
That’s better. Seven old-fashioneds and a pack of cigarettes in a little over an hour and I’m ready to go. Well, the Freedom School, the place on Indian grounds that was the cause of all the problems the first time around, is doing well. They’ve expanded their curriculum to including band marching and belly dancing. Really.
Back when this was made, these Laughlin films were said to be wonderful for showing the plight of the Indians. I don’t get it. At least in Ford’s movies, the Native Americans fought back. Here they get their revenue by belly dancing them into the ground. To think that the incredible resourceful Native Americans would do that is in my mind offensive.
I like the true story better. The Indians take a tiny piece of land and beg for sovereignty from the feds. Once they get that they build the world’s biggest casino and send millions scurrying to Gambler’s Anonymous. When the money started rolling in, Uncle Sam, after damning the evils of gambling, of course, starts looking for his cut and, God bless them, the Indians respond with a short guttural verb followed by “you.” Sovereignty, remember. He he he. That’s how you stick it to the Man. Why doesn’t someone do a movie about this?
Where was I? Oh, so, some rich guy hates this school and does everything he can to polish them off. At least Ben Gazzara in Road House had a motive – greed. Unless the belly dancing industry has skyrocketed since I kicked off, these folks aren’t making any money.
Just when things look worse for the Freedom School, Billy Jack gets released. You’d think if the government is so against him, they would have left him in stir long enough for the Ben Gazzara guy to take over the school, but that’s neither here nor there, I guess. I spoke too soon, the F.B.I. is bugging the school because the kids start a newspaper and expose a scandal connecting American corporations (none specifically) to the energy crisis and the Israeli war. The Times dropped the ball on that one.
Thankfully, the “students” find and destroy the taps. They also invent a thinkymabob that, by analyzing a person's voice, can prove when someone’s lying. The person doesn’t even need to be in the room works just as well though the television screen or radio. Now this almost sounds interesting. Sounds like you could have the F.B.I. try to capture this secret and get thwarted by the very device they are trying to find. Of course, the thinnymabob is never mentioned again.
Now that Laughlin is out of jail, he has something very important to do before saving the little Einstein kids – vision quests. What the hell? Guess I’ve got to look this one up while pouring another drink.
I knew I was going to regret this.
“A vision quest is a rite of passage, similar to an initiation, in some Native American cultures. Vision quest preparations involve a time of fasting, the guidance of a tribal Medicine Man and sometimes ingestion of natural entheogens; this quest is undertaken for the first time in the early teenage years….” Whatever.
You pray to this guy, take mind altering stuff, nearly go insane and it lasts two to three days, just like watching this movie.
A bunch of stuff happens, a bomb goes off and the National Guard is sent in by the governor. In a subtle reference to Kent State, Laughlin has the Guard open fire on the school. After which, Laughlin defends the school against the soldiers (the platoon of soldiers, by the way) in a Mexican Standoff. Fade to Black
Of course, they don’t shoot him, just the kids. On one side you have a bunch of kids who can outsmart the F.B.I. and invent devices that N.A.S.A. couldn’t dream of and on the other side you have a guy who insists on taking off his sock every time he kicks someone.
There’s government efficiency for you.
Friday, June 22, 2007
AFI Top 100
Two stories from Hollywood lore:
First, years ago a screenwriter got aggravated about the whole damn process, so he took a script and sent it to 100 movie producers. I don't recall the exact numbers, but something like 94 of them hated it, 3 thought it had potential and the other three recognized it as Arthur Miller's classic "Death of a Salesman."
Years later, a screenplay called "The Madness of King George III" was making the rounds and it was universally (and correctly) hailed as a fine piece of writing. One producers was so impressed that he asked for a copy of the original and the sequel. I stop here so you can read that again. Of course, since society is happy to dumb everything down to the lowest common denominator (movie producers), the title was changed to "The Madness of King George."
Yes, folks, these are the voters for the American Film Institute list of the Top 100 Movies of All Time. With that in perspective, my expectations ended at the hope that "Billy Jack" was not included.
In all, the list is not the total horror show I was expecting. "Citizen Kane's" at one, which is where it has to be. I don't have a vast passion for the film, but there is no question that between the camera work, the screenplay, the acting and the editing, that it was revolutionary. Every movie that's worth a damn out there today and stolen from Orson Welles's classic. The two and three spots are taken by the Godfather and Casablanca respectively. I prefer Casablanca, but I can at least see the point of view of the hound here.
After that the moron contingent raises their voice. Raging Bull at Number 4? Raging Bull is a fine movie, but to put it ahead of at least 30 others on that list is laughable. Vertigo at Number 9? Hitchcock himself has made seven better movies. "Oh, honey, what was that movie where Jimmy Stewart played the necrophiliac? Come on, it's right on the tip of my tongue." The template for every feature-length movie ever made is "Birth of a Nation." I don't care what you think of the despicable content matter, this is a top ten film without question.
Overall, there was nothing completely offensive aside of the ubiquitous presence of Titanic (I keep having the dream about DiCaprio falling over and getting hit by the boat during the stupid "King of the World" scene). Some films are way too low (Maltese Falcon, Double Indemnity) and some are way to high (if you trimmed about three hours off of Gone with the Wind then maybe) and at least one is a little strange (Toy Story?), but nothing is worth wishing locusts on anyone's houses or anything like that.
But even if there was something offensive about this list, I still would still cede it merit if just one teen who just watched Scary Movie Part 42 looked at the list then asked about Treasure of the Sierra Madre.
Maybe because of this list someone will go out and rent City Lights or Chinatown or something that doesn't look like a chimp just threw someone of his own excrement against celluloid. Maybe someone young writer will be inspired by Doctor Strangelove instead of something by Ernest Going somewhere.
Do I really think this can help stem the tide of crap one person at a time?
Absolutely not. It's hopeless, but I'm completely loaded and I tend to get sentimental when I get loaded. Martguerita's anyone.
First, years ago a screenwriter got aggravated about the whole damn process, so he took a script and sent it to 100 movie producers. I don't recall the exact numbers, but something like 94 of them hated it, 3 thought it had potential and the other three recognized it as Arthur Miller's classic "Death of a Salesman."
Years later, a screenplay called "The Madness of King George III" was making the rounds and it was universally (and correctly) hailed as a fine piece of writing. One producers was so impressed that he asked for a copy of the original and the sequel. I stop here so you can read that again. Of course, since society is happy to dumb everything down to the lowest common denominator (movie producers), the title was changed to "The Madness of King George."
Yes, folks, these are the voters for the American Film Institute list of the Top 100 Movies of All Time. With that in perspective, my expectations ended at the hope that "Billy Jack" was not included.
In all, the list is not the total horror show I was expecting. "Citizen Kane's" at one, which is where it has to be. I don't have a vast passion for the film, but there is no question that between the camera work, the screenplay, the acting and the editing, that it was revolutionary. Every movie that's worth a damn out there today and stolen from Orson Welles's classic. The two and three spots are taken by the Godfather and Casablanca respectively. I prefer Casablanca, but I can at least see the point of view of the hound here.
After that the moron contingent raises their voice. Raging Bull at Number 4? Raging Bull is a fine movie, but to put it ahead of at least 30 others on that list is laughable. Vertigo at Number 9? Hitchcock himself has made seven better movies. "Oh, honey, what was that movie where Jimmy Stewart played the necrophiliac? Come on, it's right on the tip of my tongue." The template for every feature-length movie ever made is "Birth of a Nation." I don't care what you think of the despicable content matter, this is a top ten film without question.
Overall, there was nothing completely offensive aside of the ubiquitous presence of Titanic (I keep having the dream about DiCaprio falling over and getting hit by the boat during the stupid "King of the World" scene). Some films are way too low (Maltese Falcon, Double Indemnity) and some are way to high (if you trimmed about three hours off of Gone with the Wind then maybe) and at least one is a little strange (Toy Story?), but nothing is worth wishing locusts on anyone's houses or anything like that.
But even if there was something offensive about this list, I still would still cede it merit if just one teen who just watched Scary Movie Part 42 looked at the list then asked about Treasure of the Sierra Madre.
Maybe because of this list someone will go out and rent City Lights or Chinatown or something that doesn't look like a chimp just threw someone of his own excrement against celluloid. Maybe someone young writer will be inspired by Doctor Strangelove instead of something by Ernest Going somewhere.
Do I really think this can help stem the tide of crap one person at a time?
Absolutely not. It's hopeless, but I'm completely loaded and I tend to get sentimental when I get loaded. Martguerita's anyone.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Apocalypse Now ****
Well, the great journalist, author and gadfly David Halberstam just arrived about 10 years too soon and to celebrate my gain and your loss, I’ll break custom. I’ll take a request.
Dave would like me to look at his favorite movie about Vietnam, “Apocalypse Now.” No Martini’s for this one. Mai Tai’s all the way, baby. I’m on my forth as we speak.
Is Apocalypse the perfect movie? Absolutely not. Brando almost single handedly took care of that. But you just have to sit back and appreciate a director who wants it this bad. This may be the single most ambitious movie ever made. You’re talking big time when even Orson Welles has to give up on a project. And God Bless Him, Coppola nearly pulled it off.
If you want to know why I complain about guys like James Cameron and soulless movies like Titanic, check this one out. If you’re going to shoot the moon and try to make the greatest movie ever, this is how you do it, sacrificing your bankroll and sanity at the same time.
Coppola’s made better movies (The Godfather) and worse movies (One from the Heart), but nothing is as explosive and enthralling as this. Even the bad moments are thrilling.
The best way to describe Francis Ford Coppola here is to take a young Orson Welles and inject him with the DNA of Che Guevera, Pablo Picasso and Joseph Stalin.
Let me get the weak points out of the way early because I don’t want to dwell on them. First, the screenplay is all over the place. Coppola is a fine writer when he has a steadying influence with him like he did in the first two Godfathers and Patton. John Milius is many things in the world, but a steadying influence is not one of them.
Second, he used a lot of young actors and their inexperience shows in their inconsistency.
Third, Brando. What the hell. The character from Heart of Darkness is a lean hungry type. Brando got the hungry part down. He’s about the size of a Ford Caravan here and despite the fact that’s he’s about the only one not to get malaria from the cast, he’s sweating like he has the illness. On top of all that, there is a difference between adlibbing and not knowing your damn lines.
Aside of that, it’s just amazing.
The basic story, if I can try to sum it up (not an easy task here), is that Coppola wanted to try and do what many (including Welles) have failed to accomplish – make a film version of Joseph Conrad’s epic novel “Heart of Darkness.” Coppola’s take here is to transport the setting from the Congo to the jungles of Vietnam. Aside of that the story is basically the same, a soldier sent to take out this maniac hiding in the jungle, trying to start his own tribe, placing himself as a god.
Take that starting point and add the jungle, people going insane, natives, sea creatures, nude playmates, a great soundtrack, guerrilla war, exploding sets and anything else you could possible want for a Saturday night.
Plus, and this is the beautiful part, the film has a point. Through the insanity, Coppola tries and damn near succeeds in capturing the madness of Vietnam – the war that broke all conventions. I asked Dave about it’s accuracy in theme and he said it wasn’t far off.
If you’re up for a double feature, check out the documentary about the making of the movie. It’s almost better than the movie itself. How Coppola let his wife conduct all these interviews and shoot all this inside film is beyond me?
Overall, the film is not as muscular and faultless as, say, Lawrence of Arabia, but after finishing this, I don’t think you’ll care. Another Mai Tai?
Dave would like me to look at his favorite movie about Vietnam, “Apocalypse Now.” No Martini’s for this one. Mai Tai’s all the way, baby. I’m on my forth as we speak.
Is Apocalypse the perfect movie? Absolutely not. Brando almost single handedly took care of that. But you just have to sit back and appreciate a director who wants it this bad. This may be the single most ambitious movie ever made. You’re talking big time when even Orson Welles has to give up on a project. And God Bless Him, Coppola nearly pulled it off.
If you want to know why I complain about guys like James Cameron and soulless movies like Titanic, check this one out. If you’re going to shoot the moon and try to make the greatest movie ever, this is how you do it, sacrificing your bankroll and sanity at the same time.
Coppola’s made better movies (The Godfather) and worse movies (One from the Heart), but nothing is as explosive and enthralling as this. Even the bad moments are thrilling.
The best way to describe Francis Ford Coppola here is to take a young Orson Welles and inject him with the DNA of Che Guevera, Pablo Picasso and Joseph Stalin.
Let me get the weak points out of the way early because I don’t want to dwell on them. First, the screenplay is all over the place. Coppola is a fine writer when he has a steadying influence with him like he did in the first two Godfathers and Patton. John Milius is many things in the world, but a steadying influence is not one of them.
Second, he used a lot of young actors and their inexperience shows in their inconsistency.
Third, Brando. What the hell. The character from Heart of Darkness is a lean hungry type. Brando got the hungry part down. He’s about the size of a Ford Caravan here and despite the fact that’s he’s about the only one not to get malaria from the cast, he’s sweating like he has the illness. On top of all that, there is a difference between adlibbing and not knowing your damn lines.
Aside of that, it’s just amazing.
The basic story, if I can try to sum it up (not an easy task here), is that Coppola wanted to try and do what many (including Welles) have failed to accomplish – make a film version of Joseph Conrad’s epic novel “Heart of Darkness.” Coppola’s take here is to transport the setting from the Congo to the jungles of Vietnam. Aside of that the story is basically the same, a soldier sent to take out this maniac hiding in the jungle, trying to start his own tribe, placing himself as a god.
Take that starting point and add the jungle, people going insane, natives, sea creatures, nude playmates, a great soundtrack, guerrilla war, exploding sets and anything else you could possible want for a Saturday night.
Plus, and this is the beautiful part, the film has a point. Through the insanity, Coppola tries and damn near succeeds in capturing the madness of Vietnam – the war that broke all conventions. I asked Dave about it’s accuracy in theme and he said it wasn’t far off.
If you’re up for a double feature, check out the documentary about the making of the movie. It’s almost better than the movie itself. How Coppola let his wife conduct all these interviews and shoot all this inside film is beyond me?
Overall, the film is not as muscular and faultless as, say, Lawrence of Arabia, but after finishing this, I don’t think you’ll care. Another Mai Tai?
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
The Moon Is Blue -***
There is nothing more insignificant than a revolutionary bad film. It’s like if a hermit up in the Himalayas sets himself on fire to protest world hunger. The goat smelling your demise might care, but aside of that what point did you make?
You can make a movie containing the cure for cancer and if it was starring Steve Guttenberg it wouldn’t matter because no one would see it.
I understand that guys like Otto Preminger and Stanley Kramer like to buck convention and stick it to Hollywood’s self-appointed Naughty Police (The Breen Office), but if you want to make a farce about how stupid the NPs are, than why not make a good movie at the same time.
For example, a popular misconception is that the shower scene in Psycho is one of the most violent in film history and many were at the time surprised it got past the censors. Well, it got past the censors because the blood was actually chocolate syrup and the knife never made contact with the skin. The power of that scene is in the editing and the music. Period. Hitchcock made his point in a witty and powerful way.
I had this argument with Otto around 1950 something-or-other while shoveling down drinks at the Copacabana in New York. Otto said he had a great idea to tweak the code by adapting the hit Broadway play A Moon Is Blue with Bill Holden and David Niven. See, the Moon Is Blue used words like “Virgin” and “Pregnant” and other such thing that lead to the end of Western Civilization as we know it.
Intrigued by this I decided to take in the play, and Otto was right. The actors did say those words. After watching the play, my discussion with Otto went something like:
“Were you offended?” Otto said grinning.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Really? You never seemed like the squeamish type on issues like this. Which words bothered you?”
“Everything between Act 1 and The End. You’re seriously going to waste Niven and Holden on that piece of garbage?”
The whole production was on the cusp of horrible. Screw the words; the whole play was offensively bad.
It wasn’t just the writing, the acting, the directing, the set design, the music, but the concept as a whole. Here’s the pitch – a girl meets an architect on the Empire State Building and turns his live upside down eventually involving him in a love triangle. It’s basically a weaker episode of “That Girl” expanded to two painful hours. I mean I’d go into more detail, but that’s about it and if you can’t figure out the ending on your own please close this web page and don’t come back.
At least Otto had the decency to shorten the movie to 90 minutes, but the film was just as bad despite having Holden and Niven in it. I refused to watch the talented Maggie McNamara for years because I always associated her with this. You’d wish you were that hermit in the Himalayas by the time this film’s over.
To this day and I don’t know why, but I’m just absolutely positive that the movie had a laugh track. I’m not saying it actually had one, but I just seem to remember it. Not a normal laugh track either, but like the one that DeNiro had on in the background while he was doing his bits in his mother’s basement during the “King of Comedy.”
I told Otto at the time that he might take some grief for it for a little while, but don’t worry about it. In 20 years everyone would forget this movie had ever been made. I was wrong. It was forgotten
If you want to make a statement or you want to change the world, you better be good and articulate, because if you can’t keep Sam Goldwyn’s ass from itching for two hours, then it doesn’t matter what you say. You’ll be forgotten.
You can make a movie containing the cure for cancer and if it was starring Steve Guttenberg it wouldn’t matter because no one would see it.
I understand that guys like Otto Preminger and Stanley Kramer like to buck convention and stick it to Hollywood’s self-appointed Naughty Police (The Breen Office), but if you want to make a farce about how stupid the NPs are, than why not make a good movie at the same time.
For example, a popular misconception is that the shower scene in Psycho is one of the most violent in film history and many were at the time surprised it got past the censors. Well, it got past the censors because the blood was actually chocolate syrup and the knife never made contact with the skin. The power of that scene is in the editing and the music. Period. Hitchcock made his point in a witty and powerful way.
I had this argument with Otto around 1950 something-or-other while shoveling down drinks at the Copacabana in New York. Otto said he had a great idea to tweak the code by adapting the hit Broadway play A Moon Is Blue with Bill Holden and David Niven. See, the Moon Is Blue used words like “Virgin” and “Pregnant” and other such thing that lead to the end of Western Civilization as we know it.
Intrigued by this I decided to take in the play, and Otto was right. The actors did say those words. After watching the play, my discussion with Otto went something like:
“Were you offended?” Otto said grinning.
“Yes,” I responded.
“Really? You never seemed like the squeamish type on issues like this. Which words bothered you?”
“Everything between Act 1 and The End. You’re seriously going to waste Niven and Holden on that piece of garbage?”
The whole production was on the cusp of horrible. Screw the words; the whole play was offensively bad.
It wasn’t just the writing, the acting, the directing, the set design, the music, but the concept as a whole. Here’s the pitch – a girl meets an architect on the Empire State Building and turns his live upside down eventually involving him in a love triangle. It’s basically a weaker episode of “That Girl” expanded to two painful hours. I mean I’d go into more detail, but that’s about it and if you can’t figure out the ending on your own please close this web page and don’t come back.
At least Otto had the decency to shorten the movie to 90 minutes, but the film was just as bad despite having Holden and Niven in it. I refused to watch the talented Maggie McNamara for years because I always associated her with this. You’d wish you were that hermit in the Himalayas by the time this film’s over.
To this day and I don’t know why, but I’m just absolutely positive that the movie had a laugh track. I’m not saying it actually had one, but I just seem to remember it. Not a normal laugh track either, but like the one that DeNiro had on in the background while he was doing his bits in his mother’s basement during the “King of Comedy.”
I told Otto at the time that he might take some grief for it for a little while, but don’t worry about it. In 20 years everyone would forget this movie had ever been made. I was wrong. It was forgotten
If you want to make a statement or you want to change the world, you better be good and articulate, because if you can’t keep Sam Goldwyn’s ass from itching for two hours, then it doesn’t matter what you say. You’ll be forgotten.
Monday, April 23, 2007
To Be or Not to Be ****
I was never a big television fan, especially after the shows went to tapes, but a couple of decades after my demise, I discovered the Dean Martin roasts.
Considering my undying love of Dino, I decided to mix myself a very dry martini in his honor and check them out. Within minutes, I felt ancient because there on stage are my contemporaries Red Skelton, Bob Hope and Milton Berle looking like they all just got back from the taxidermists.
In the middle of the show, the marvelous Don Rickles starts to get heckled and he snaps back at the crowd that “one more outburst and he’s going to let Bob come up and do his jokes.” Of course, everyone laughed. It was a funny line. I didn’t laugh. I just thought, “I didn’t heckle you, Don. Why do I deserve this?”
It was depressing enough seeing these guys looking one step from the grave (with that one step being on a banana peel), but it’s even worse thinking that those three clowns would be joining me soon. When I died, I didn’t see too many benefits to it, but, in time, I noticed the bright spots – my hangovers weren’t that bad and I never had to watch those above referenced jackasses again.
Well, now they’re here, and headlining all the hot spots. Huzza. Before I got to change the channel in a fit of rage and sadness, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. At the end of the stage sat the man, the king, the funniest man of all time – Jack Benny.
This is proof positive that I only love old movies or performers because they’re old. I just love the one’s that are good. My opinion on drama is more set in stone because making a dramatic movie can be taught. No one can teach comedy. You’re either funny or you’re not, and Jack, Red and Uncle Miltie, aren’t.
Do you’re eyes need some exercising? Maybe you can roll them here with some of Miltie’s bon mots.
“The company accountant is shy and retiring. He's shy a quarter of a million dollars. That's why he's retiring.”
“We owe a lot to Thomas Edison - if it wasn't for him, we'd be watching television by candlelight.”
How about a couple from Bob Hope?
“Middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle.”
“You know you are getting old when the candles cost more than the cake.”
Those all got big laughs during Reconstruction. I can’t even be bothered to deal with Skelton. Just his face will give me another heart attack.
The lines are bad enough, but the brilliance of Jack is the fact that he could probably say the same lines and they’d be hysterical. The quality of the line didn’t matter to Jack because his timing was so perfect.
One of his most famous gags was during his show when he was the victim of a hold up. The robber stuck a gun in his face and said, “Your money or your life.” Jack paused for what seemed like forever until the robber said, “So what’ll it be?”
“I’m thinking it over,” Benny said.
The line doesn’t look funny in print, but it was Jack’s expression and timing that sold it.
To prove my point about comic timing being a natural instinct I could either review one of Hope or Skelton’s movies, but I’m not where near drunk enough for that or I could watch Benny’s classic, “To Be or Not to Be.”
It was a strange idea. Benny and the wonderful Carole Lombard were members of a theatre group in Poland at the time of the Nazi occupation. Benny disguised himself as a Nazi officer to filter information to the underground. Not exactly what you would call prime comic material and there were more than anyone’s share of tasteless jokes. (“We do the concentrating and the Poles do the camping,” the pseudo-Nazi Benny said.) But Benny made them work.
How? I couldn’t tell you. To show the man’s brilliance, Mel Brooks remade the movie. I like some of Mel’s stuff, but to say he lacks Benny’s timing and understatement would be like saying – I don’t know – there’s nothing to compare.
I usually like to try and teach something in these little reviews, but the only lesson here is that a great comedian is like a great wife, cherish them, because they don’t come around too often.
Take Bob Hope – please.
Considering my undying love of Dino, I decided to mix myself a very dry martini in his honor and check them out. Within minutes, I felt ancient because there on stage are my contemporaries Red Skelton, Bob Hope and Milton Berle looking like they all just got back from the taxidermists.
In the middle of the show, the marvelous Don Rickles starts to get heckled and he snaps back at the crowd that “one more outburst and he’s going to let Bob come up and do his jokes.” Of course, everyone laughed. It was a funny line. I didn’t laugh. I just thought, “I didn’t heckle you, Don. Why do I deserve this?”
It was depressing enough seeing these guys looking one step from the grave (with that one step being on a banana peel), but it’s even worse thinking that those three clowns would be joining me soon. When I died, I didn’t see too many benefits to it, but, in time, I noticed the bright spots – my hangovers weren’t that bad and I never had to watch those above referenced jackasses again.
Well, now they’re here, and headlining all the hot spots. Huzza. Before I got to change the channel in a fit of rage and sadness, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. At the end of the stage sat the man, the king, the funniest man of all time – Jack Benny.
This is proof positive that I only love old movies or performers because they’re old. I just love the one’s that are good. My opinion on drama is more set in stone because making a dramatic movie can be taught. No one can teach comedy. You’re either funny or you’re not, and Jack, Red and Uncle Miltie, aren’t.
Do you’re eyes need some exercising? Maybe you can roll them here with some of Miltie’s bon mots.
“The company accountant is shy and retiring. He's shy a quarter of a million dollars. That's why he's retiring.”
“We owe a lot to Thomas Edison - if it wasn't for him, we'd be watching television by candlelight.”
How about a couple from Bob Hope?
“Middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle.”
“You know you are getting old when the candles cost more than the cake.”
Those all got big laughs during Reconstruction. I can’t even be bothered to deal with Skelton. Just his face will give me another heart attack.
The lines are bad enough, but the brilliance of Jack is the fact that he could probably say the same lines and they’d be hysterical. The quality of the line didn’t matter to Jack because his timing was so perfect.
One of his most famous gags was during his show when he was the victim of a hold up. The robber stuck a gun in his face and said, “Your money or your life.” Jack paused for what seemed like forever until the robber said, “So what’ll it be?”
“I’m thinking it over,” Benny said.
The line doesn’t look funny in print, but it was Jack’s expression and timing that sold it.
To prove my point about comic timing being a natural instinct I could either review one of Hope or Skelton’s movies, but I’m not where near drunk enough for that or I could watch Benny’s classic, “To Be or Not to Be.”
It was a strange idea. Benny and the wonderful Carole Lombard were members of a theatre group in Poland at the time of the Nazi occupation. Benny disguised himself as a Nazi officer to filter information to the underground. Not exactly what you would call prime comic material and there were more than anyone’s share of tasteless jokes. (“We do the concentrating and the Poles do the camping,” the pseudo-Nazi Benny said.) But Benny made them work.
How? I couldn’t tell you. To show the man’s brilliance, Mel Brooks remade the movie. I like some of Mel’s stuff, but to say he lacks Benny’s timing and understatement would be like saying – I don’t know – there’s nothing to compare.
I usually like to try and teach something in these little reviews, but the only lesson here is that a great comedian is like a great wife, cherish them, because they don’t come around too often.
Take Bob Hope – please.
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