Directed by Billy Wilder in 1950, it was daring in its cynical view of Hollywood and the way that the studio system built up stars only to tear them down. In fact, many real-life former superstars came back from the abyss to star in this film: Buster Keaton, Anna Q. Nilsson, and H. B. Warner make surprising cameos as a group of has-beens that the film's narrator refers to as "the waxworks". Erich von Stroheim, whose own rise to fame, infamous suspected orgies and eventual decline can be read about in the pages of Hollywood Babylon, nearly plays himself as a former movie director turned butler.
But it's Gloria Swanson's show as the deluded Norma Desmond, a woman deranged into a monster of sorts after a life of fame and fortune followed by a slow decline into madness and oblivion which she can't comprehend or accept. With her wraith-like claws, wicked teeth, pointy eyebrows, and deranged plans for a comeback, she's surely one of the most intriguing women ever put on film, though she's not the only curious character.
William Holden plays Joe Gillis, a dashing young up-and-coming writer who has a real possible future ahead of him. His career isn't soaring yet, but he's working and he's even met a nice girl he could love (the two of them share one of my favorite romantic scenes ever when he says, "May I say that you smell really special?") Yet through circumstances he ends up in the claws of Miss Desmond and, rather than running the other way, he somewhat happily stays put.
Like many young people before and after him in Hollywood, he decides to take the easy way, in essence working as Desmond's whore rather than struggle through life on his own dime. Ingeniously, he narrates the tale of his ultimate demise posthumously and with a had boiled edge. In the opening scene we see his corpse floating face down in a swanky mansion pool. From the very beginning, we're assured of a very unhappy ending.
I know, I know, we’ve all seen it. I’m not breaking new boundaries or broadening too many minds by recommending Point Break, but have you watched it lately? It not only sits perfectly with this week’s surfer noir novel, Tapping the Source, but it stands as the kind of thrilling, non dark action movie our Summer needs. A bevy of pop culture gems in this thing: “Vaya con Dios”, “I am an FBI agent!”, “Two, Utah, get me two”…
Reeves and Swayze, wet torso fighting, bank robberies, bromances between extreme dudes, exciting foot chases, and angry police chiefs - all the things you want are here. There are also those things you didn’t even know you wanted like Lori Petty as a love interest and two, count them two, sky diving sequences.
Point Break is so much fun to watch and if the fawning documentaries on the DVDs are any indication, it was a blast to make too. Everyone associated with making it has nothing but fond memories for this sleeper hybrid. Originally Johnny Depp (according to the doc) or Matthew Broderick (according to wikipedia) was cast as Johnny Utah and they had even begun shooting when the plug was pulled.
Fortunately the story didn’t end there and Kathryn Bigelow picked up the project and ran with it to great lengths of stupendousness. She’s also the director of the pretty awesome Near Dark, but sadly since James Cameron dumped her, isn’t directing as much despite her formidable talents. What a shame because as silly as it may sound, it takes vision to put such brazen action sequences together. It takes vision to turn a potentially absolutely ridiculous dud into the action packed gem that’s won the hearts of my entire generation male and female (see the tradition carried on Live if you can). In short, I miss her.
This and Tapping the Source have immersed me in surfing this past week, an activity I will never likely part take in, but one that is great to watch and read about. I will skip listening to it though, if it sounds like Point Break’s soundtrack, a mess of b-side Concrete Blonde and embarrassing classic rock covers that fails to have that timeless quality of the movie.
Night Moves is a great crime drama Arthur Penn directed nearly a full decade after the hugely successful Bonnie and Clyde and, despite a similarly realistic tone, it’s a very different piece of work. Penn wisely chose to re-team with master thespian Gene Hackman, casting him as the lead in this unsettlingly honest private eye yarn. Mysteries lead nowhere, predictable deaths go un-prevented; spiritual dissatisfaction ensues.
The scenery and the characters are on display warts and all. The cast delivers complex performances, among the best are two femme fatales one of whom, a former hooker and Key West weirdo, is played to perfection by Jennifer Warren with lightning fast mood swings, hawk eyes, and predatory teeth; the other is a sixteen-year-old Melanie Griffith, not portrayed as a typical Hollywood teen vamp, but as a desperate and lost child who never had a chance thanks to her horrible mother and a parade of rotten men behaving the only way they know how.
Even the sets have a lived in realism, the boats looks grimy and old, the porches sag under years of heavy burdens as do the shoulders of the mostly broken characters. Gene Hackman is a lovable but damaged private eye, in the business to avoid the problems in his life he can’t solve: a failed football career and a crumbling marriage, for starters.
It’s a forgotten classic worth a look if you love film noir or Gene Hackman–which should pretty much cover everybody because I can't think of anyone that doesn’t love Gene Hackman.
When I was a kid I liked some decidedly non-kid friendly films, lots of oddball lesser known ones like Ruthless People, From the Hip, and this sci fi/action gem, The Hidden. I credit my dad for always keeping an eye out for movies that might not have had the biggest budgets and hype, but are always entertaining.
New daddy and dog bloggerKyle MacLachlan stars as an FBI agent who is not what he appears. A role that a lesser actor might fumble, McLachlan is pretty much a genius at playing gently strange good guys, a talent he just never seems to get enough credit for. Flashdance alumni Michael Nouri stars as the reasonably incredulous partner assigned to to the case–oddly enough, he bears a resemblance to Kyle’s later local police force helper, Sherrif Harry Truman.
Furthering the Twin Peaks connection, you’ll notice Hank Jennings in the first scene playing a mild mannered regular guy who suddenly goes on an unprovoked murderous rampage. And then the same thing happens again and again to other seemingly normal people. Could it be that something supernatural is afoot?
The Hidden is a solid B movie, the kind you wish for when browsing TBS in the in afternoon. It’s got sci fi alien stuff (in the form of a black slimy thing crawling out of peoples' mouths), bloodshed (a statuesque stripper turned mass murderer takes fifteen bullets in a rooftop shootout), a sense of humor, and a brisk pace.
After sitting through so many big “block busters” that just tend to bore, despite all their efforts to wow us, you watch a movie like this one and want to ask whoever is in charge (Michael Bay?), “See, was that so hard?”
While there may be nothing totally extraordinary or artful about this movie, what's extremely impressive is that it’s just so entertaining. Too bad director, Jack Sholder didn't do so well when he butchered my favorite horror franchise with Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy's Revenge.
How do I describe Valerie and Her Week of Wonders? Well, it’s part 70’s art house, part vampire erotica, part surreal fairytale of sexual awakening, and all weird. Which is, of course, the allure. You’re highly unlikely to see anything else quite like it, largely because it only bears a vague resemblance to a typical movie–it's more like a parade of entrancing images that are as easy to look at as they are difficult to make sense out of. This trailer really only hints at what you can expect.
Czech new wave director Jaromil Jires seems to be half pervert–he's got a huge soft spot for young ladies (including thirteen year old star Jaroslava Schallerova) barely contained within their gauzy lace frocks–and half aesthetic genius. No one can compose frames of nudity and nature, blood and wildflowers, lace curtains and breasts, and over-saturated fields of wheat traversed by nuns like this guy can–these are images that could be framed on a wall and this odd and controversial film is at times elevated to high surreal art. I can imagine W Magazine doing an editorial based on this film, if only anyone on staff was film nerdy enough to seek it out.
But what do all the pretty pictures add up to? Well, on one hand, not much more than an oddly paced, head scratching “it was all a dream?” type fantasy; but, on the other, it’s hard to deny that there's some indescribable and creepily intriguing (like an ominous abstract painting) that you can’t quite put your finger on–and you don’t even want to, really, because it's just so profoundly weird that it's pretty much impenetrable to analysis.
Aside from the visuals, the plot too (as much of it as you can piece together), has some neat elements. The cast of characters is pretty wild, there's The Weasel, the town's ghostly and David Lynchian eerie vampire master; Eagle his frequently tortured (both physically and emotionally) son with incestuous longings for Valerie; Granny, who is willing to trade her granddaughter for eternal youth and is always dressed amazingly in white stiff collared dresses, black net fingerless gloves, black jodhopers, and severe complex up-dos; and, of course, there's Valerie, the nubile teen who imagines all this nonsense (which includes a burning at the stakes and a chicken plague) with the aide of a pair of magical earrings.
We found it mind blowing that this oddity was actually based on a novel (written in 1935 by Vitezslav Nezval) and can’t begin to imagine how it could work on the written page. Long lost, the film was finally released by Facets Video in 2004. It has been an inspiration for writer Angela Carter (The Company of Wolves) and its re-release has inspired a new group of artists: a team of Philadelphian musicians called The Valerie Project who play along to the cult classic film at museums and film festivals. Comments: 0
An old friend introduced me to Let’s Scare Jessica to Death a few years back and I'm forever grateful. It’s so hard to sift through the plethora of low budget 70’s and 80’s horror films to find the real gems, and this one is certainly a gem. We re-watched it last night (thank you Netflix) and although (like a lot of horror movies) it had slightly less impact on second viewing, it still stands up as an odd, interesting and… special movie.
A husband, his wife and their good friend are heading north to a new start far away from the city after purchasing “the old Bishop house” . What they’re fleeing seems to be the wife Jessica’s inner demons. There's an implied stay at a hospital, former uncontrollable fears, and possible hallucinations (or are they?!), and all those pesky little voices in her head. Almost a constant in the soundtrack, the whispery voices tell her to look at the “Blood, blood, it’s blood, Jessica!” during a meal or warn her not to tell the men about the visions she’s having, “They’ll think you’re crazy”.
There's a genuine creepiness throughout the movie and, before long, you'll wonder if you’re seeing the world through the eyes or Jessica or if things in this town truly are very, very wrong. For example: the local yokels, all old men covered with suspicious bandages, are more than unfriendly, they harass the newcomers subtly, like a gang of angry teens, messing with their car and refusing to back down from blocking their way. This scene, and many others like it, are what make the film so great.
There's a near constant dread that manifests itself in unusual ways and yet through it all, you’re not sure if Jessica is just insane and none of it is real. Of course, the fear of insanity is just as real as the fear of a local vampire, townie conspiracies, or any of the other visions and stories that Jessica believes. The movie shares that “may or may not be” horror with one of my favorite movies of all time, Martin, where a young man, who is most certainly killing women, may or may not be a vampire.
The center of the movie is the extraordinary performance by Zohra Lampert as Jessica. Never has a frail and possibly insane woman been portrayed better. The performance, which hits pitch perfect notes of eccentricity and vulnerability, made me wonder if director John D. Hancock (Bang the Drum Slowly) just lucked out an exploited a genuinely crazy lady to act like herself (she's not in too much else, though she was nominated for a Tony twice and won an Emmy for an episode of Kojak)
The movie looks great, all haze and saturation and it’s shot more artily than you’d expect, it seems that Rosemary’s Baby had a positive influence. It’s a horror movie on the subtle brink of insanity that takes itself seriously despite a low budget; though some folks may consider it little more than standard issue 70's "cheese". I truly believe that in some alternate world, this could be considered a horror classic great–but I'm also aware that some of you may watch this and think that I'm just as insane as Jessica. (Or am I?!) Comments: 0
In 1962, Roman Polanski made the pessimistic, subtle thriller, Knife in the Water, which earned him an Academy Award nomination and an international name in cinema.
Nearly entirely set on a boat, a wealthy married couple takes a young hitchhiker with them sailing. The music by Krzysztof Komeda is dreamy, jazzy and very of it's time hip and the cinematography is memorable - particularly the shot of the young man asleep on the bow. But, in a way, it's still somewhat surprising that the movie manages to keep your interest. Very little happens, yet it's more compelling than most action films shot today.
The action is in the tension. Tension between youth and age, the sea and land, wealth and poverty, men and women. The two men, Andrzej the wealthy boat owner, and the young man played by acting novice Zygmunt Malanowicz, spend most of the film at odds in a strange newly formed friendship/rivalry. They cock block their way around the claustrophobic boat with the titular knife and many boasts, bets, and snide remarks. Krystyna, however, played by the lovely and curvy Jolanta Umecka (who also had no previous acting experience) is comparatively calm, seemingly the only adult surrounded by machismo boys.
It's recently been released by those dear people at Criterion and the print looks great.
Even though Harper is considered by many critics to be the most mature detective story until Chinatown came along, it's not nearly as well known. I hadn't really heard much about it and I only decided to record it because of its two stars: Paul Newman and Lauren Bacall, the undeclared winners of the superlative "Best Eyes" category in Hollywood's yearbook, 1960s edition.
Both are in top form. Bacall as a wicked step mother who hires P. I. Lew Harper to find her husband and whoever he might be sleeping with, not to gather information for a divorce (she doesn't want a divorce, she just wants to out live him), but to make sure his estate remains intact. Newman, playing the detective, just wants his wife (played by an oddly old looking Janet Leigh) back.
But he's just too committed to the case, and he solves it almost too well using a combination of handsome charisma, Tennessee Williams accents, a cool and collected temper, and brown suits.
Harper is full of the clever, quippy dialog and colorful oddball characters that make up any respectable noir; only instead of traditional stark black and whites, the zany '60s sets (often of divey bars, mansion halls, and one weirdo temple) are gloriously of their time–there are also a number of lovely dresses and a perfect trench coat to keep an eye out for.
It's a detective story with a sly sense of humor and a classic cast to play those weirdo characters. Shelly Winters, who I always love, is the former movie star whose become an overweight booze hound, Robert Wagner smacks brilliantly of gosh darn good looking lay aboutism, and Arthur Hill is pretty awesome as Newman's best friend.
It does slow down at times. I'm no fan of chase scenes in general, but when they're either slow moving car chases inter-cut with green screen close ups, or foot chases through alleys too dark to see anything, I'd just rather go to sleep. Still, chase scenes aside, this is a solid picture with great performances; definitely one worth discovering.
I thought I knew what to expect from Easy Rider, the ultimate iconic American freedom movie, but I was surprised not only by how the movie itself unfolded, but by how effected by it I was. That might sound silly coming from someone practically chained to her computer, fully entrenched in all the comforts of modern life, but there's something really appealing about the message of freedom and the pull of a seemingly simpler life–to be someone who can throw off her watch and to "...do your own thing in your own time".
When the film was released in 1969 many people felt the same way, it became a phenomenon and ushered in a whole new generation of independent filmmaking. Directed by Dennis Hopper with an eye for the awesome American landscape, it's as beautiful as it is far out, man.
Still, these guys are real anti heroes, two dudes on the fringes of society who are rarely accepted by the rest of their fellow men; a danger that is made abundantly clear by certain dramatic events and the shocking and abrupt ending that I somehow got through my whole life without knowing about–which I'm still thankful for because it packs so much more impact when it's undiminished by spoilers.
Speaking of Nicholson: I think his portrayal of a drunk southern lawyer might just be my favorite of his career. His introduction is unexpected and his performance adds a whole new dimension to the film with his varsity sweater, football helmet, and crazy drinking noises.
Hopper too is excellent as an almost too realistically caustic outsider who is tempered by the beautiful ocean of calm that is Peter Fonda... If you don’t get excited when Fonda goes skinny dipping, you may not be a woman…
Viewers are welcomed into the subculture with open arms by the most charming and candid characters. Many of these people had lost their way then found themselves again in this complex world–an absorbing subculture focused on "Realness": the ability to look as closely as possible as your straight counter part; "Houses": gay groups headed by a "mother" that compete and, as one man says in the film, are basically "gay street gangs" that fight not through violence but dancing; "Voguing": which at the time was not a household word and idea but a form of competitive dancing; and "Reading and Shade": the art forms of spoken and physical insult.
There are drag queens and trans-genders, prostitutes and tons of sass, but there's also real gravity and sadness; the tragic end of Viva Extravaganza will make you want to cry. Still, the world is changing, and it was changing even as the film was being shot. Some of the men featured did end up enjoying success as the world at large grew more accepting of homosexuality–or, at the very least, more aware. Comments: 0
