tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19676681282640818052024-02-19T14:32:38.749-08:00Musings on Movies5 stars = A Masterpiece / 4 stars = Excellent / 3 stars = Good / 2 stars = Below Average / 1 star = AwfulAzrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.comBlogger945125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-74837796157351228072024-02-11T19:09:00.000-08:002024-02-11T19:09:35.894-08:00Review - The Falls<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">February
12, 2024<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Falls</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – Taiwan, 2021<br /><o:p></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9V1wzqZbDnMj1iE9AQIgEYOYZUHxvVnb4SBOJjD8tUQPu2bycG5Bni0K_GKnf-nsPHluO2FjjZOXIrHUxe86MHygpyB18cxzW6_1Ui9bJWYrCSl-dWFsNb-8LuNJjNSwyzhke-bnL9PVKD1ph93MMkNYcEK0mQxmSXZGdFl9_-UiZ0Jw61Q_T1ASTsA/s267/the%20falls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="189" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9V1wzqZbDnMj1iE9AQIgEYOYZUHxvVnb4SBOJjD8tUQPu2bycG5Bni0K_GKnf-nsPHluO2FjjZOXIrHUxe86MHygpyB18cxzW6_1Ui9bJWYrCSl-dWFsNb-8LuNJjNSwyzhke-bnL9PVKD1ph93MMkNYcEK0mQxmSXZGdFl9_-UiZ0Jw61Q_T1ASTsA/w136-h195/the%20falls.jpg" width="136" /></a></div><br />While
watching Chung Mong-hung’s 2021 film, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Falls</i>, I was reminded of something one of my child development teachers
remarked, that tears and anger are often the result of an accumulation of frustrating
experiences – tough mornings, disagreements with friends, difficulty at work or
school – not just the result of what has recently happened. However, there are
times in history when the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back is so
powerful and unexpected that it has the potential to send people spiraling into
the abyss. For some people, Covid-19 was such an event, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Falls</i> is the first film I’ve seen
that attempts to show the impact of the pandemic on both people’s personal and
psychological states.<br /></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Falls</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> begins with a
scene of dysfunction, one that I’m sure many people are unfortunately familiar
with. It is a school day, and for Lo Pin Wen (Alyssa Chia), just getting her
daughter up and out the door is a momentous task. It should be easier, of
course. Her daughter, Xiao-Jing (Gingle Wang), is 18 and a senior in high
school, yet their morning is filled with a string of unfeeling inquiries and
caustic backtalk. And it only gets worse as the day goes on.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At
work, Pin Wen receives a double whammy. First, there’s a rather heartless email
requesting that all staff members decide how much of a “voluntary” pay cut they
receive. Then, as if that weren’t enough, she is informed that one of her
daughter’s classmates has tested positive for Covid, automatically triggering
home quarantine for the entire class. Pin Wen offers to keep working, but her
boss tells her to take some time off. It’s an understandable decision, but it
deprives Pin Wen of the one thing that she needs to feel in control of the
chaos surrounding her, and without it, her descent is rapid and severe.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Falls </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">could easily have
focused solely on the ensuing two weeks, detailing what quarantine is like and
how these characters deal with their unwanted joint confinement. Instead, it
elects to pivot in a way that allows for Pin Wen and Xiao-Jing to switch roles.
Covid gives way to mental illness, and Xiao-Jing must now effectively become the
head of the household. Unfortunately, the change is too abrupt, and Xiao-Jing’s
sudden maturity seems unexplained. This is a character who, while possibly
infected, was so spiteful as to take off her mask while standing close to her
mother and tell her to keep away, a move that can only be seen as an aggressive
attempt to create both emotional and physical distance. To see her acting kind
and responsible so quickly was more than a bit jarring.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Hurting
the film more is its apparent desire for its characters to resolve problems
with very little effort. Need your mother’s financial information? Just make an
emotional plea to a bank employee. Have money problems? Just sell your house.
Never mind that by your own admission the market is bad. Have low savings? Perhaps
you too can live off of NT $40,000 (about US $1,300) a month. Writers Chung and
Chang Yao-sheng seem to think that there are easy solutions to everything, and
that they can be discovered and dealt with in less than ten minutes of screen
time. The result is less a journey of discovery than a series of simple steps.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Perhaps
the most egregious of these “simple steps” is the notion that people with
mental illness can, with enough introspection and awareness, eventually diagnose
the source of their problems themselves. Twice in the film characters detail
sudden flashes of awareness when developments like those are much more likely
to be the result of therapy and strenuous reflection. It is as if the spectre
of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Beautiful Mind</i> had somehow taken
possession of the writers as they looked for another rapid resolution and made
them make the following erroneous calculation, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well, if worked in A Beautiful Mind, it will work here</i>. Fortunately,
the scenes in which these revelations are divulged are quite moving, and like
Nash, one of the characters has developed a somewhat realistic method of coping
with something that she knows is not really there.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Other
aspects of the film also ring true. Many of the companies most directly
affected by the pandemic did in fact either reduce their staff or ask them to
take pay cuts, despite already having what can only be considered extremely low
salaries, and yes, many workers were indeed asked to choose how much of their
salaries they would lose. Given that they were told that the alternative was
job loss, was it really a choice, though? More importantly, periods of
quarantine were not always times when families came together. Those that were
already dysfunctional did not magically come together – For many people, there
were more arguments, more drinking, more friction, and even suicidal thoughts.
Thus, it is not surprising that Pin Wen and her daughter do not come together
during their quarantine. Realistically, their journey takes much longer. Also,
I admired the way the film slowly puts the pieces of the mother’s condition together.
As a result, we get a remarkable understanding of what leads to Pin Wen’s
decline.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Still,
I can’t help thinking of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Falls </i>as
a compromised film. The idea behind it is a promising one, and the two lead
characters are fascinating to watch. However, the film’s frequent shortcuts
undercut the drama, robbing it of much needed momentum. A better film would
have left difficulties unresolved for a time, adding them to other conflicts and
raising the stakes for its characters. This one does not. A better film would
also not have to rely on a shock ending to make its point, for in a family
drama, what resonates is the final state of the family, and that point had
already been made. In the end, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Falls</i>
is a good film, one about sympathetic characters coping with tragic
circumstances. It had the potential to be great, though; it just lacked to attention
span to pull it off. (on DVD in Region 3; on Netflix)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Falls </i>is in Taiwanese and Chinese
with English subtitles.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Falls </i>won Best Narrative Film at the
58<sup>th</sup> Golden Horse Awards in 2021.</span><br /></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-29201105868585154772023-12-02T21:15:00.000-08:002023-12-02T21:15:12.237-08:00Review - Wild and Woolly <div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">December
3, 2023<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Wild and Woolly</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – U.S., 1917<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8_WgDJ__133EuKMLtOAlXqu2iE6jCotxJK4aGlxjzWdd0VI62o7o0Aug7iFvD5aWdZ9HRfo4L9h7LAV9BUYAEYN2g0AN1cemlvq9j2hATgjJW3zsrgYpUi1FwTWmNit9OtVIM6MEQ3O1vACmKCddnwxcNU68WO1gH_AUuZgkaKBo8eoOM_wKtfLWT9cI" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8_WgDJ__133EuKMLtOAlXqu2iE6jCotxJK4aGlxjzWdd0VI62o7o0Aug7iFvD5aWdZ9HRfo4L9h7LAV9BUYAEYN2g0AN1cemlvq9j2hATgjJW3zsrgYpUi1FwTWmNit9OtVIM6MEQ3O1vACmKCddnwxcNU68WO1gH_AUuZgkaKBo8eoOM_wKtfLWT9cI=w160-h196" width="160" /></a></div><br />It
seems strange to admit this, but for most of my time spent watching movies, the
career of Douglas Fairbanks had been a blind spot. Sure, I had seen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Thief of Bagdad</i>, but that had been
as an avid fan of Anna May Wong, not as one eager to discover one of film’s
first superstars, and subsequently, I did not pursue Fairbanks’ other films. My
curiosity was eventually piqued by a plot summary of his film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Half-Breed</i> and by Bosley Crowther’s
inclusion of Fairbanks’ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Robin Hood</i> in
his 1967 book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Great Films: Fifty
Golden Years of Motion Pictures</i>. While neither of those films earned rave
reviews from me, his performances in them were enough to rope me in.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">John Emerson's <i>Wild and Woolly </i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">was Fairbanks’
seventeenth film, and while already a star, he had yet to make the swashbuckling,
heroic films that would ultimately make him a legend. However, he was well on
his way to establishing himself as a romantic superhero. Just a year earlier, in
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Matrimaniac</i>,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>he (and a reluctant priest) had gone through a series of physical challenges
just to be able to marry the love of his life over the objection of her
traditional father (a common theme in early silents), and his role in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Flirting with Fate</i> had audiences awe-struck
upon seeing his physically challenging attempts to elude a hit man he’d regrettably
hired to whack him. It may not always have made sense that his characters were suddenly
able to do such acrobatic moves, but there’s no denying their impressiveness.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wild and Woolly</i>, he plays Jeff
Hillington, the son of Collis J. Hillington, who, in this film at least, was
responsible for taming the Wild West with the railroad. In fact, the film begins
with a series of comparisons between the West as it was in the olden days –
replete with cowboys, shoot-ups, and wagons - and as it is today – “ruined” by
technology. Jeff, we soon learn, has a massive obsession with the Wild West and
his room is practically a shrine to the days he idolizes. It is here where he
practices the “cowboy” skills he has so often seen romanticized in Hollywood
movies (using real bullets!). At one point, he lassos the family butler and
later offers some modern businessmen some of his tobacco block. He even looks at
an actress on a poster for the latest Hollywood western and proclaims her the
kind of woman he wants to marry. All of this gets him the reputation of being a
nut.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Early
scenes are fun, even though they make Jeff more akin to the kind of man-child that
Harry Langdon played so often in his career than a full-fledged character who
just happens to have an unusual interest. The film further stretches
believability when it shows Jeff playing in his room alone atop a life-size toy
horse with the same amount of energy as a genuine cowboy likely showed during an
actual competition or stampede. As for how he acquired the impressive horseback-riding
skills he later displays, we can only surmise that it has something to do with
the fact that his father is extremely wealthy and that he appears to have a lot
of free time on his hands.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film kicks into high gear upon the introduction of two plot threads. The first
involves a mine in a small Arizonan town that comes to the attention of Jeff’s
father (Walter Bytell) and his decision to send Jeff to investigate it. The
second has to do with the greedy schemes of a Caucasian Indian Agent named
Steve Shelby (Sam De Grasse), whose nefarious activities have made him rich but
wary about hanging around dodge too much longer. When word of Jeff’s impending
arrival and his fascination with the West reaches the mining town, the residents
decide to recreate those special times in an attempt to win his support for the
mine (which, curiously, he never actually visits), while Shelby decides to use
Jeff’s visit to pull off a final heist and then skedaddle out of town with a
young lady named Nell (well played by Eileen Percy) who couldn’t care less
about him, thus setting the stage for an actual western adventure. This part of
the film is highly entertaining, as Jeff is an unsuspecting participant in a
series of staged events right out of a movie screenplay, including a train
robbery and the rescuing of a damsel in distress.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film is of course a product of its time, and some contemporary viewers will
likely object to what could be interpreted as stereotypical portrayals of nameless
antagonistic Native Americans. However, I chose to see their role as the result
of the unique circumstances of this particular tribe. It isn’t a stretch to
conceive of their alcoholism and eagerness to attack the town as being the
results of Shelby’s efforts to enrich himself at all costs, for what better way
to bend people to one’s will than to deprive them of basic necessities and make
them dependent on an addictive substance? Seen in this light, the only real
villains are Shelby and his partner in crime, Pedro (Charles Stevens). Much
less explainable is the exaggerated fractured English in the intertitles, again
an unfortunate and distracting product of their time.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Still,
as with many silent films, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wild and Woolly</i>
remains charming and entertaining, despite such elements. Fairbanks plays naiveté
and innocence rather well, and his stunt work remains impressive. The cast
seems to be having a ball in the scene in which the town stages events from the
past, and Fairbanks and Percy are convincing as a pair of young people falling
in love steadily. It is said that many silent films had musicians near the set
playing music designed to help actors express emotions more clearly. For this
film, I’ll bet it was Elger’s “Salut d’Amour.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(on DVD as part of Flicker Alley’s box set Douglas
Fairbanks: A Modern Musketeer)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
and a half stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wild and Woolly </i>is a silent film.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*Eileen
Percy appeared in 72 films from 1917 – 1943. I look forward to seeing more of
her performances.</span><br /></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-47796477329370062532023-10-16T07:29:00.005-07:002023-10-16T07:29:37.591-07:00In Memorium: Dariush Mehrjui<p> Gone, but Not Forgotten</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkrd47g5NWkIHgqy3KhFvaWTKHNZWQKL6SOoatX2WW8OYSEPcA0PD3-KVZi0KjFLDHncLnKDdb3W1Dv4YiD4aUYMTYD9hOtHA1h2eg8FdVpz5qo3h51SnhgYMnI2K-a6b5lxEdku6Uxd3vXmy0Xyv5WaGzTuoO_Ii61f4W3GMTJ5Iz-NGizVHuIQ_UTiw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="254" data-original-width="199" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkrd47g5NWkIHgqy3KhFvaWTKHNZWQKL6SOoatX2WW8OYSEPcA0PD3-KVZi0KjFLDHncLnKDdb3W1Dv4YiD4aUYMTYD9hOtHA1h2eg8FdVpz5qo3h51SnhgYMnI2K-a6b5lxEdku6Uxd3vXmy0Xyv5WaGzTuoO_Ii61f4W3GMTJ5Iz-NGizVHuIQ_UTiw" width="188" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dariush Mehrjui</div><div style="text-align: center;">December 8, 1939 - October 14, 2023</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>There are days when the world makes little sense. The fourteenth of October was one such day, for that was when someone broke into the home that 83-year old Iranian director Dariush Mehrjui shared with his wife, Vahideh Mohammadifar, and stabbed them both to death. Words seem trivial here, and speaking of movies while their family and friends are grieving feels rather heartless.</div><div><br /></div><div>However, I will be eternally grateful to Mr. Mehrjui for helping to open my eyes to Iranian Cinema, its history, and Iranian culture. I will remember the humanity he gave to the central character of his 1969 film, <i>The Cow</i>, a man struggling to accept both the loss of his pet cow and the status having the only cow in the village afforded him. And I will always be grateful for the chance to see <i>Leila</i>, his 1997 meditation on tradition and its affects on a young woman whose inability to conceive threatens to make her a second-class citizen in her own home. I was both moved and enlightened by these movies, and I offer my sincere condolences to his family. </div><p></p>Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-79292464252747388092023-10-08T23:33:00.005-07:002023-10-08T23:33:42.255-07:00Review - Robin Hood (1922)<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">October
9, 2023<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Robin Hood</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – U.S., 1922<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAveOe7kQxlhHHRA62ryS_8X4aOwX71UT-nwik1Oi26hFCQDX_WXk5KjDV984Qx5Z-Cl8IPKuxHETCQcbsruQw19Gm28Tdy9jdnLX-X0vDMASxRO9Ji-fhJdAhsmx5GCqUXbsDNlhQUjQNlU8SrBBx2XKO3EELmSXRxeVRe1Kz1MVCkQEdsxpokwcy7kc/s264/robin%20hood%201922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="191" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAveOe7kQxlhHHRA62ryS_8X4aOwX71UT-nwik1Oi26hFCQDX_WXk5KjDV984Qx5Z-Cl8IPKuxHETCQcbsruQw19Gm28Tdy9jdnLX-X0vDMASxRO9Ji-fhJdAhsmx5GCqUXbsDNlhQUjQNlU8SrBBx2XKO3EELmSXRxeVRe1Kz1MVCkQEdsxpokwcy7kc/w164-h210/robin%20hood%201922.jpg" width="164" /></a></div><br />It
is said that the script for Douglas Fairbanks’s 1922 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Robin Hood </i>consisted of just a few sentences scribbled on a piece
of scratch paper. While I imagine scenes were more carefully planned out later
on, the lack of foreplaning may account for the jarring sudden shift in tone
midway through the film. After all, this is a film that for more than an hour
seems much more like a drama than a comedy. It’s as if halfway through production
someone ran what they had filmed so far and insisted on the insertion of humor
and tights. So jarring is the switch that it makes you wonder if the man formerly
known as the Earl of Huntingdon had suddenly developed amnesia regarding the
degree of suffering being experienced by the residents of Nottingham.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Robin Hood</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> begins with a
feast celebrating King Richard’s soon-to-be-embarked upon mission into the Holy
Land, more commonly known as the beginning of the Crusades. This is presented
as a cause for pomp and celebration and as the fulfillment a personal mission.
Current students of history may watch this and roll their eyes, especially at
the rather positive view of a historical figure who ordered the massacre of 500
unarmed prisoners, yet it’s also easy to believe that at the time many people
considered not only the Crusades to be worth fighting but also the men going off
to fight it to be heroes. King Richard (played by screen legend Wallace Beery)
places Prince John (Sam De Grasse) in charge during his absence, andit is a
mistake of astronomical proportions, as the prince quickly raises taxes, seizes
household possessions when people cannot pay, reinstates execution, and
tortures women who spurn his advances. It’s truly brutal stuff.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
first half of the film also contains the first meeting of Huntingdon (Douglas
Fairbanks) and Lady Marian (Enid Bennett), and this is portrayed much less
romantically as later versions. Instead of linking eyes and feeling the early
pitter-patters of love, Huntingdon spies Prince John stalking Marian as she
flees upstairs to escape his unwanted and potentially violent advances. After
saving her from a potential assault, he is surprised by her humble and
soft-spoken manner, and soon the two are gazing into each other’s eyes, theirs
faces adorned with the kind of expression that enthusiastically whispers, “Can
you believe this is happening to us?” It’s hokey, but it works.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Director
Allan Dwan does an excellent job of building up the tension, cutting between
scenes of Prince John’s increasingly belligerent nature and the men’s blissful
ignorance of what is going on in their absence. Dwan plays up Marian’s
innocence in a series of close-ups that reflect both the hopefulness of a
someone in love for the first time and the naïve practicality of someone who
believes that a few sound words of advice are all a tyrant needs to be able to
change his ways. Dwan also knows how to film Fairbanks, and his camera is frequently
placed at the ideal angle to capture Marian’s and Huntingdon’s torn expressions
and looks of concern. I would also be remiss in my duties if I did not mention
the impressive sets.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">By
the end of the first half of the film, one character is thought dead, while another
is heartbroken and hell-bent of revenge. Perhaps this is why what follows felt
so jarring. We suddenly see that Huntingdon has taken on the name of Robin Hood
and become known for his habit of stealing from the rich and giving to the
poor. Now there are a number of ways one could convey the commitment Robin
feels both to help the people survive and to get revenge on Prince John. Unfortunately,
Fairbanks and Dwan opt to make Robin Hood a character that leaps practically every
other moment, stops and laughs mid-escapade, and grins while engaging in pretty
deadly swordplay. In other words, he’s now a comic character in a swashbuckling
adventure, the kind whose duels inspire both wonder and fun and fill you with
amazement at the skills involved in his physical deeds, such as climbing up a
long castle drape and fighting off gangs of Prince John’s men the way martial
arts heroes do their legions of enemies. It can be argued that, seeing as how
this is a Robin Hood film, the shift was necessary. However, the change in tone
is too jarring, and it hurts the rest of the film.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As
the Earl of Huntingdon, Fairbanks is simple amazing; as Robin Hood, while he
certainly gives it the old college try, he’s less so. Sure, he does some remarkable
stunts and impresses with his physical prowess, yet all of this comes at the
expense of the film’s emotional pull. It is hard to remain concerned about the
lives of a population living under a brutal regime, while simultaneously being
asked to marvel at a character’s acrobatic wonders. Again, this is fault of the
script, not the performers. This is not to say that the second act does not
contain a certain level of charm, but it makes the film escapist rather than dramatic,
something easily forgotten, rather than pondered on and analyzed. In the end, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Robin Hood</i> is two films – one cinematic
and the other pure Hollywood, and I simply preferred the former. (on DVD and
Blu-ray from Cohen Film Collection)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Robin Hood </i>is a silent film.<br /></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Playing Little
John is none other than Alan Hale, better known as the Skipper from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gilligan’s Island</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-22212847321216023392023-08-06T22:53:00.001-07:002023-08-13T01:34:31.223-07:00Review - Saturday Fiction<div class="separator"><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">August 7, 2023<br /><o:p> </o:p><br /><i>Saturday Fiction</i>
– China, 2019</div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKb92vWzgultWmfz_vReq9qPgHcOQaJuSvoDyCV05ngZiWzZoCgBQq1yXWg-4v-Iopre8Dv7e9OV9Ve7Wj7SH-3tR97cbY60j3enrNdfDnWoXZfFNAO1PHmcxfP5FlDb7-yvCCddB0V_AXprVFmFc7CVeMAhc2UHG9ljMZyhICjMJiA2WoNWZCxiCmGM/s270/shangai%20fiction.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="187" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKb92vWzgultWmfz_vReq9qPgHcOQaJuSvoDyCV05ngZiWzZoCgBQq1yXWg-4v-Iopre8Dv7e9OV9Ve7Wj7SH-3tR97cbY60j3enrNdfDnWoXZfFNAO1PHmcxfP5FlDb7-yvCCddB0V_AXprVFmFc7CVeMAhc2UHG9ljMZyhICjMJiA2WoNWZCxiCmGM/w168-h218/shangai%20fiction.jpg" width="168" /></a></div>There was a time when a new Gong Li film was cause for
playing hooky. One year, I even missed the first day of the fall semester
because I simply had to see <i>The Story of
Qiu Ju</i> on its opening day, and it was opening in San Francisco at a time
when I lived in Sacramento. In other words, in my mind, one of her films was
such an important experience that I was willing to pay for two Greyhound bus
tickets, transportation in San Francisco, plus a ticket and snacks at the concession
stand. That’s how big of a fan I was. This was during the first half of Gong Li’s
career, when she worked with Zhang Yimou and Chen Kaige in their prime and when
her choice of roles seemed daring. In those days, a Gong Li movie was as important
as it was entertaining. The same cannot be said of most of her films post-2000.</div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">Lou Ye’s <i>Saturday
Fiction</i> is not a return to form necessarily, but it may be the first movie
in a long time in which the legendary actress gets to really sink her teeth
into a role. In the movie, she plays Jean Yu, a popular actress returning to Shanghai
ostensibly to return to the stage after a three-year absence. To say the timing
is peculiar would be an understatement. Shanghai in 1941 was under Japanese
occupation, home to thousands of Jewish refugees from Germany, and mired in
poverty. It had two areas that were considered safe – the French Concession (now,
the Luwan and Xuhui Districts) and the English Concession. Upon her arrival, Miss
Yu goes from the airport directly to the French Concession, where she checks in
at an upscale hotel operated by an eager fan who has bugged her phone and wants
to be to be told the moment she makes an international call, actions that make
less sense as the film progresses.</div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">The first half of the film is devoted to creating a sense
of mystery regarding Yu’s motives for returning. While she says she has
returned to do a play, there’s talk of the peril her ex-husband is in and
whether Yu has returned to help him flee the country. This is brought up by an
obsessed fan who follows Miss Yu’s car and impresses her by demonstrating her
knowledge of all of her lines from her current stage production, a la <i>All About Eve</i>, as well as hinting that
she knows the whereabouts of her ex. We also learn Yu may be trying to rekindle
her romance with Tan Na, the director of the play, with whom she apparently had
an affair before she disappeared, and then there’s the attention the film gives
to a Japanese official sent to Japan to inform government workers of changes in
the country’s secret codes. Could Yu’s return somehow be connected to him?<br /><o:p> </o:p><br />The problem with such a set-up is obvious. Instead of
characters talking to each other directly, they have to tiptoe around key
topics and words. Say too much and the mystery is revealed. This results in a
series of cryptic scenes that don’t ring as truthful as they need to and
culminate in an outbreak of gunfire and violence that ends with dead bodies
lining a busy street, several people with severe bullet wounds, and a character
incredulously declaring that everything has gone as planned.<br /><o:p> </o:p><br />Fortunately, this scene announces the start of the film’s
second half, which, now able to dispense with cryptic phrases, kicks into gear
and delivers a series of exciting and tense scenes, each with real stakes and a
growing sense of hazard. In these scenes, Yu sheds all pretenses and displays a
ruthlessness that is both shocking and logical. It makes you wonder why Gong Li
has never made a true action film – she clearly has the chops for it. (Full
disclosure: I have not seen <i>Operation Cougar</i>,
an early Zhang Yimou film about an airplane hijacking in which Gong Li plays a
stewardess.) <br /><o:p> </o:p><br />The film is shot in black and white, likely to give it a
noir-like feeling, and for the most part, it works. Scenes of rain-soaked sidewalks
and Shanghai residents huddled around makeshift fires contrast impressively
with the bright and clean atmosphere of the French Concession, establishing the
existence of two Shanghais. There are also quieter moments during which the
connection between Yu and Na is firmly established. You may wonder whether such
strong feelings would still exist after such an extended absence, but the human
heart can confound by suppressing feelings and desires for the one that got
away and then allowing them to rise to the surface so suddenly that not to act
of them seems a sin.<br /><o:p> </o:p><br />Unfortunately, writers Yingli Ma, Hong Ying, and Riichi
Yokomitsu have injected the film with a plot device that is all too common in
film and which never fails to lessen the amount of suspense a film can truly
create. Like James Cagney’s 1945 film <i>Blood
on the Sun </i>and Gong Li’s own 2010 thriller <i>Shanghai</i>, the film uses real historical events to build tension,
but since audience already know how history unfolded, the outcome is never
really in doubt. The question is not <i>Will
they succeed?</i> but rather <i>Will they
get away?</i><br /><o:p> </o:p><br /><i>Saturday Fiction </i>is
therefore a mixed bag. It is well made, has terrific performances from Gong Li,
Mark Chao, and Tom Wlaschiha, and one of the best second halves that I’ve seen
recently. However, it’s first half is clunky and hindered by its own plot
structure. Among Gong Li films, it sits comfortable in the middle – not as good
as some of those masterful early collaborations, yet not nearly as exhausting
as some of her latter productions, such as <i>Miami
Vice</i>, <i>Hannibal Rising</i>, and the
overly long <i>What Women Want</i>. I’m glad
I saw it. (on DVD in Region 1)<br /><o:p> </o:p><br />2 and a half stars <br /><o:p> </o:p><br />*<i>Shanghai Fiction</i>
is in Chinese, Japanese, English, and French.<br /></div></div>Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-89612930360465097262023-06-24T08:55:00.003-07:002023-08-05T22:14:05.158-07:00Review - Dinty<div style="text-align: left;">June 24, 2023<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dinty</i> – U.S.,
1920<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDyR9ChrkRwNtfZyQNtWu1WfmFuEaTlChozAnhkafwlhXk8AwTz1RegT4UUvLvUgvzNTnnH-0nNHM_cxRq_jEqVBSg0f6uf8NN6F1vSl3-HJr1wRPF6Jo7M0a7QqVAG0O8bTmQel-8I6kLZ4KtXD73sFzsbtfardZpF6hfVl5aVD8H8Mcm4hLCgVz1Po/s259/dinty.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="259" data-original-width="195" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDyR9ChrkRwNtfZyQNtWu1WfmFuEaTlChozAnhkafwlhXk8AwTz1RegT4UUvLvUgvzNTnnH-0nNHM_cxRq_jEqVBSg0f6uf8NN6F1vSl3-HJr1wRPF6Jo7M0a7QqVAG0O8bTmQel-8I6kLZ4KtXD73sFzsbtfardZpF6hfVl5aVD8H8Mcm4hLCgVz1Po/w160-h213/dinty.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><br />Dinty</i> is at its
heart a love story – several actually. There’s the opening love shared by a
young Irish man named Danny O’Sullivan (Tom Gallery) and the love of his life,
Doreen (Colleen Moore). Their story resembles that of Romeo and Juliet, for
early on we learn that their families are warring. In an early scene, we watch
as they elope just one week before Danny sets off to make his fortune in
America. This may seem like the set-up for a dramatic story involving separation
and longing, of family conflicts brought on by the young woman’s rebellious nature,
but alas no. In no time at all, Doreen is on an ocean liner destined for the
sunny skies of San Francisco and her disgruntled father is nowhere to be seen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span><o:p> <br /></o:p>Okay. So the family drama does not materialize, but now that
they’re both destined to be together again, we’ll surely have a serious tale
detailing the experiences of Irish immigrants in the United States post-World
War I and how love can help people cope with what history tells us were
extremely challenging times. Regrettably, upon her arrival, Doreen learns that
earlier that day her husband was struck down in an automobile accident.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>Okay. So that love story was a ruse, but there’s still
promise. It seems that Doreen brought with her a young baby named Dinty, and
so, Doreen dedicates her heart and soul to providing for him, even taking him
to work when he should be at home sleeping seeing as how she works late nights
as a cleaning lady. In one scene, we see her scrubbing floors with a rope
around her waist, Dinty being on the other end of the rope in a basket. No
doubt theirs is a tough existence, and one could reasonable surmise that the
film will become about how, for these two characters, life is a daily struggle.
Will Doreen find love again? Will they suffer discrimination and hardship? Clearly,
the storyline has promise, yet once again, the film can’t be tied down, and in
just minutes, twelve years have passed.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>And here is where audiences may find themselves wondering
if they’ve been Rick-rolled, for just as a viewer of Beyonce’s latest video on YouTube
may suddenly find themselves watching Astley swing his arms to his massive hit <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Never Gonna Give You Up</i>, we are suddenly
introduced to the drug-smuggling Triad leader Wong Tai (Noah Beery) and his
far-too-young wife Half Moon, played by Anna May Wong. Their secret lair is
straight out of early Bond film, replete with swinging pendulums, secret rooms,
and walls that slide open with the push of a button. In an early scene, we
watch as Wong Tai’s henchman evade capture and deliver his addictive product
through the use of a sophisticated telegraph machine that can send messages in
Chinese.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Just what this has to do with little Dinty (now played by
Wesley Barry) and his ailing mother is anyone’s guess, but suddenly, Wong Tai
vanishes from the film, and once again we are watching the adventure of Dinty,
now selling newspapers on the street, and his attempts at dealing with the
local newspaper-boy bully, Muggsy.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>But back to the love angles. Soon we meet Ruth (Marjarie
Daw), the young daughter of the powerful, tough as nails Judge Whitely, and her
police officer boyfriend, John North (Pat O’Malley). Actually, the film does
not play this relationship up until the final scene. What’s important is that
it is the judge who has been tasked with bringing down drug smugglers, which
puts him on a collision course with Wong Tai. I know what you are thinking: Just
how does this involve Dinty?<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>The film was directed by John McDermott and Marshall
Neilan, and while credit for the script is given exclusively to Neilan, I can
imagine a scenario in which one of them wanted to make a serious movie about
Irish immigrants and the other an adventure film with a Fu Manchu-like villain.
It’s akin to the mash-up that occurred when Tarentino and Rodriguez decided to combine
two disparate scripts - one about killers on the run and the other about
vampires - and make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">From Dusk Till Dawn</i>.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two plots are incompatible, but at
least the latter two directors had the good sense to exhaust one story before
introducing the other. Here, a scene involving drug smuggling is followed by a
young boy interviewing for a newspaper job by screaming so loud that glass
breaks and birds fly off in fear.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>The film scores some points by making Dinty’s best
friends an African-American boy named Alexander Horatius Jones (Aaron Mitchell) and a boy of
Chinese descent named Sui Lung (Walter Chung). Alas, while Sui Lung plays a big
role in the film’s climax, Jones seems to be there solely for comic relief. Case
in point, when Dinty and his friends scrap with Muggsy and his gang, Jones is
the only one to hide in a trash can. Perhaps more troublesome is the film’s
final shot, in which Jones finally gets something to eat after brooding at the
judge’s dinner table. One guess what he is served.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>At 63 minutes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dinty</i>
does not have much time for character development, and yet it has some rather
wonderful moments. In one, Dinty’s friends decide to form a band and play for
Dinty’s bedridden mother. The instruments they play represent their culture,
with Sui Lung playing a variation of the pipa, yet what makes the scene most memorable
is that when a doctor arrives to check on Dinty’s mother, he is so moved by the
boys’ actions that he joins them in dance. There are also moments when, seeing
all he has done to make his mother comfortable, you marvel at Dinty’s ingenuity.
If only the film were not so disjointed.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>I primarily watched the film for Anna May Wong, having
long been curious about her career and whether her films truly deserve their
reputation. Here, she is not given much to do, but in a key moment toward the end,
she has to register Half Moon’s conflicted feelings about having been betrayed
and yet not fully trusting the authority figures standing in front of her. Even
at the young age of 15, she was able to act such moments, and I’m convinced that
Ms. Wong was a good actress overall, but a truly outstanding silent film
actress. I wouldn’t say the movie is worth watching for her performance alone –
its script is far too problematic - but if you decide to give it a chance, it
would likely be one part you could reflect back fondly upon. The role of Sui Lung
would be the other. As for the rest, it’s fun, eye-roll inducing, and memorable
for both the right and wrong reasons. (on DVD and Blu-ray from Grapevine Video)<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>3 stars <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span><o:p> <br /></o:p>*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dinty</i> is a
silent film.<br />*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dinty</i> was
consider lost until a Dutch print was found. If you pause the film at the right
time, you can still see the Dutch intertitles.<br />*Walter Chung appears to have only appeared in one other
film, 1925’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When the Door Opened</i>. He
passed away at the age of 70 in 1981.<br /></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-25898517804131646832023-04-05T05:04:00.003-07:002023-06-24T19:55:23.000-07:00Miscellaneous Musings: On a Right of Every Generation<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">April 5, 2023<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">On a Right of
Every Generation<br /></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTw--Lc6ugNHjVc_BxXvrh3oUx_KvsqnEWiCyFjQLs6T7RBsg-Maaa9Jw7BoyiB63vl-syRKv_Hb7_t18JfdPQJrnDZkmOhtRY_hM5mcOBM4xv8kfb8X6UgtiK2RcmoXLfjr47oF3FX8xMKvfYGypbTa8epGj7cHf3TdGvTXtspNhQs9CX3DI2tSj/s256/Bosley%20Crowther.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="256" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYTw--Lc6ugNHjVc_BxXvrh3oUx_KvsqnEWiCyFjQLs6T7RBsg-Maaa9Jw7BoyiB63vl-syRKv_Hb7_t18JfdPQJrnDZkmOhtRY_hM5mcOBM4xv8kfb8X6UgtiK2RcmoXLfjr47oF3FX8xMKvfYGypbTa8epGj7cHf3TdGvTXtspNhQs9CX3DI2tSj/s1600/Bosley%20Crowther.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />1967
saw the publication of Bosley Crowther’s book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Great Films: Fifty Golden Years of Motion Pictures</i>. At that
time, movies were entering into what could be considered their fourth
generation, the first three being the Silent Era, the early years of the Sound
Era, and the years in which the Hayes Code was enforced. 1967 was also the year
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bonnie and Clyde </i>was released, and it
is often said that it was Mr. Crowther’s negative review of that film that
ultimately cost him his job. The following years would see movies move in two
telling directions, becoming both more graphic and more commercial, and that
pivot would be rewarded. Gangsters films, as well as an X-Rated film, would go
on to win Best Picture, and stories that had been thought of as B-movie material
would become the savior of Hollywood studios. In other words, change was
afloat, and for a generation of moviegoers and film critics, these would be the
movies that shaped their childhood and became a lens through which later movies
– and perhaps earlier ones, as well – would be judged. Just look at the AFI’s
first list of the Greatest Films of All Time: 40 of them were released post-1966.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
that is how it should be.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Crowther’s
book is a snapshot of one generation’s ideals and preferences, and as such, it
is a valuable document, shining a rather humbling spotlight on the impermanence
of praise and appreciation. The book is divided up into 39 “chapters,” each one
a year in which “great films” were released. It begins in 1915 with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Birth of a Nation</i>, a film that
appeared on the first AFI list, but, interestingly, not the updated one
released a decade later, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Intolerance</i>,
which appeared on the updated list but was omitted from the first. Here are the
films Crowther included that are of the most interest to me: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Covered Wagon </i>(1923), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Thief of Bagdad </i>(1924), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Greed </i>(1924), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Freshman </i>(1925), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
General </i>(1927), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Crowd </i>(1928),
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Public Enemy</i> (1931), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Informer</i> (1935), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Night at the Opera </i>(1935), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Camille </i>(1936), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ninotchka </i>(1939), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In Which We
Serve </i>(1942), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Henry V</i> (1944), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monsieur Verdoux </i>(1947), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tom Jones </i>(1964), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blow-Up </i>(1966), and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ulysses </i>(1967).
What all of these film have in common is that they were excluded from the AFI’s
original list.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">There
may be a variety of reasons for this. Movies like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Greed</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Crowd</i> were
much less available to the public in the years before the advent of home video,
and even then, many of these films were hard to find after the arrival of VHS,
released by specialty labels and priced anywhere between $75 - $100. It is
highly likely that some great films just slipped from public consciousness
during this time. It’s also possible that a particular genre, such as comedy,
began to be seen as lesser than another. The truly important movies, this
thinking goes, are about something and not just entertainment. And then there’s
the matter of relatability. I suspect many moviegoers today don’t recognize the
kind of college life depicted in Harold Lloyd’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Freshman</i> or find it hard to completely get into a film about a
soldier on the wrong side of the Civil War. Or perhaps a film just hasn’t aged
well. Its story simply no longer captivates or reflects values that are a
relic of the past.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">There
have been other <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">best of</i> lists, of
course. The AFI has put out a number of genre-specific lists, Sight & Sound
Magazine continues to publish an annual list of the greatest films of all time,
and magazines like Time and Rolling Stone occasionally release their own (the former
even included <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lord of the Rings </i>trilogy
on theirs). 1988 saw the publication of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">John
Kobal Presents the Top 100 Movies</i>, which, like Crowther’s list, contains
both American and International films.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>Roger
Ebert created a ever-expanding list of Great Movies, a technique that saw
numbers as pointless and great movies as numerous as the stars. Other writers
wrote books claiming to include the 100 or 1,000 movies you simple have to see
before you die.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
problem is that since so many lists have been created, there has come to exist
an expectation of uniformity, that every credible list simply <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">has to include</i> particular films. No <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">2001: A Space Odyssey</i>? Sorry, not
credible. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Citizen Kane</i> isn’t number
one? The writer does not know what he’s talking about. No <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shawshank Redemption</i>? Perish the thought, and cancel the writer.
This is definitely not how it should be.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">It
should be remembered that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Citizen Kane</i>,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Duck Soup</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Monsieur Verdoux</i> were not considered classics until the 1950s, when
a new generation, one living through McCarthyism, the Korean War, the early
days of the Cold War, and dramatic events of the Civil Rights movement, discovered
them and saw in them something their predecessors has either missed or been
unmoved by. They now resonated. I imagine they also saw movies that their
predecessors had praised and wondered what all the fuss was about.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Recently,
there have been a number of articles on movies that have been re-evaluated.
Most of these have been movies that were panned by critics or ignored by audiences
upon their initial release, movies like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Event
Horizon</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star Wars: The Phantom
Menace</i>, and a new generation of viewers is giving them a second chance. Rotten
Tomatoes routinely asks its readers “Were critics wrong about…” a particular movie,
and websites such as Buzzfeed occasionally publish lists of movies that viewers
think are undeserving of their stellar reputation.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Again,
this is the way it should be, a series of evaluations followed by
re-assessments and adjustments. The worst thing about lists is that the more of
them there are, the more uniform and codified they become, leading to the believe
that a certain group is truly the greatest ever made and that anyone who
disagrees is either misguided or incapable of judging true quality. This has
led to accusations of elitism and snobbery on both sides. Of course, this is
not the way it should be.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Every
generation has the right to look back and decide what speaks to them and what
they see value in. Sure, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Star Wars </i>was
groundbreaking in 1977, but it is perfectly reasonable to ask whether its
reputation has been diminished by its multiple prequels and sequels and its
seemingly endless stream of television shows, the quality of which has varied
immensely? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Citizen Kane</i> introduced a
new language in filmmaking, but 84 years after its release, it seems natural to
wonder whether it still speaks to moviegoers that way it did to viewers living
through the Vietnam War and the Nixon Administration. And it seems justified to
wonder just how much contemporary reviews of classic films like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Midnight Cowboy</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid</i> have been influenced by the
previous generation’s insistence that there is greatness in them.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">We
have demoted movies before, relegating them to honorable mention. For his part,
Mr. Crowther included a Supplemental List of 100 Distinguished Films. In other
words, of films that were great, but not great enough. He could have included
thousands more. To the best of my knowledge, no current list of the Top 100
includes <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Covered Wagon</i>, Douglas
Fairbanks’ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Robin Hood</i>, or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Informer</i>, and no one accuses the
writers of lists excluding them of being ignorant of film history. Values just
changed, and those and many other excellent films found themselves on the outside
looking in. Why shouldn’t young critics and moviegoers today be allowed the
same freedom?</span><br /></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-21492162331496895872023-01-23T20:43:00.009-08:002023-01-26T19:15:33.124-08:00Review - Last Film Show<p> January 24, 2022</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Film Show </i>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chhello Show</i>) – India, 2021</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilQjlaSTKo3aNZ-mMkr5RK5eA58yxoIHzk4HOkxM4onS99G_QNuBCa_-lwuPQU61fj91CsheBjvn1lFkdFN1VPjChIEA7rbnDLvOWqXGsJ6Vy4dMkPUeP1UBh3YbIxPaLchVTOdB-LajeSVTdLeWh-LgsJwu8ZXGKJb9qlbiU73Kmj-bx61yiIt3as" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilQjlaSTKo3aNZ-mMkr5RK5eA58yxoIHzk4HOkxM4onS99G_QNuBCa_-lwuPQU61fj91CsheBjvn1lFkdFN1VPjChIEA7rbnDLvOWqXGsJ6Vy4dMkPUeP1UBh3YbIxPaLchVTOdB-LajeSVTdLeWh-LgsJwu8ZXGKJb9qlbiU73Kmj-bx61yiIt3as=w162-h213" width="162" /></a></div><br />Early on, in Pan Nalin’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Film Show</i>, a father informs his son, Samay (Bhavin Rabari),
that he and his family are going to the movies. He adds, however, “For you, it’s
the first and the last.” Good luck with that. Soon, we see the family at a sold
out showing of a religious film, a term that for some people likely conjures up
images of priests or the converted giving long fiery speeches and glowing
figures signaling the arrival of miracles. Yet the film is from India, and so,
in addition to the aforementioned qualities, it also contains colorful dance numbers,
songs with catchy lyrics, artistic close-ups, and, apparently, captivating action
scenes. The boy is hooked. When he gets home, he tells his father, “I want to
make movies.” His father’s response: “Shut up.”<p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">The boy’s family is from Chalala, a small northwestern town
in India whose population in 2011 was just under 17,000. If a town’s significance
can be gaged by the size of its Wikipedia page, then take this into account:
Chalala’s has nine sentences, covering geography, demographics (mostly the
literacy rate), notable people (there’s 1), and transportation. The latter
section is a one-sentence description of where the nearest airports are. In other
words, this is not a place of economic prosperity, bustling night life, or
world-renowned universities. Ironically, that would likely make it one of the
final (and perhaps permanent) destinations for old-fashioned motion picture
reels.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Samay begins ditching classes and sneaking (often
unsuccessfully) into what looks to be the areas only movie theater, the Galaxy.
The theater has a ground floor and a balcony. Its screen is wide, like the ones
found in the singleplexes of the past. Most importantly, it has a projectionist
named Fazal (Bhavesh Shrimali), who agrees to let Samay into the projection
booth in exchange for his mother’s delectable lunches. In this way, Samay is
exposed to every genre of film and the directors whose artistic visions made
the films possible.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">If this sounds familiar, it should, for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cinema Paradiso </i>had a similar storyline.
What separates these two films is the environments in which they take place. While
Guiseppe Tornatore’s film dealt with such issues as censorship under fascism
and young love, Nalin’s characters cope with less political issues, chief among
them poverty. This is a family that earns just enough to survive by selling tea
to train passengers during brief stops. They live in an undeveloped part of the
town, and their home is hardly what you’d call modern. It’s no wonder then that
the advice of Samay’s teacher is for him to “learn [English] and leave." </p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">And yet Samay’s storyline does not show him attending
extra English classes or studying for the kind of exam that would have helped
him punch his ticket out of his hometown. Rather, he embarks on a journey that
reflects the history of film itself. Having experienced his first film and felt
the warm glow of its projector reflecting on to his hand, he is filled with
existential questions, such as just how as image can be captured and projected
in the first place, and, with his friends, embarks on a quest for answers. Admittedly,
this is not always the most exciting adventure for viewers, and you can see the
timely revelations coming a mile away. What makes it special, though, are Samay’s
wide-eyed, enthusiastic reactions to his discoveries. Here is a boy discovering
the way to create his own form of miracles. Later in the film, in a scene that
is masterfully shot, Samay adds another innovation which harkens all the way
back to the Japanese <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">benshi</i> and the
pianists and organists that used to play along with silent movies. In that
moment, we realize that Samay has created his own version of film history,
proving to himself that it can be done and reinforcing his feeling that he
simply must do it.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Most movies would end here or jump forward in time to
show Samay as a successful director, a la <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cinema
Paradiso</i>. However, Nalin shuns this predictable route, instead choosing to
move the film in a direction that is so unexpected that it shocks the senses
and produces feelingss of both numbness and loss. I won’t reveal it here, other
than to say that the film is set in 2010, a year that marked the arrival of
something that has permanently changed cinema and the way we value it.</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I found myself reminiscing on the fate of most of Melies’s
film and on the number of films lost in Japan’s cinematic purge in the early
1950s. I couldn’t help wondering whether a physical copy of Kamal Tabrizi’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Lizard</i> even exists today and if the
same fate had been met by other films that fell afoul of oppressive government
censors. Are old, worn-down VHS tapes all that remain of these films?</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">I do not know how successive generations will discover
films in the future, yet one of the things that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Film Show</i> makes clear is the power of their discovery –
the memories they create, the imagination they inspire, the communities they
form, and the fun and excitement that comes as that exploration continues. Can
this experience be duplicated at home on a widescreen television or in your
room on an even smaller screen? Time will tell. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Film Show</i>, though, is a reminder of the power of the
flickering lights, the hum of the projector, and the experience of the big screen.
And it is a reminder of the impermanence of this experience and of just how
easy it is to reduce a dream to dust. (on DVD in Region 3)</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">3 and a half stars</p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Last Film Show
</i>is in Gujarati with English subtitles.<o:p></o:p></p>Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-8323152178962728642022-12-05T06:45:00.001-08:002022-12-05T06:45:22.395-08:00Review - Brad's Status<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">December
4, 2022</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Brad’s Status</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> – U.S., 2017</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIz9YcudcVfceGtkYzCYCW-SlqdQvkDjxXx0-At1LjKcVLG2otZWSG3x8fgv2pgmWgPPxgRrcfm8I_DejCZEXsWJF2ZbuNKPJXPedmz41JH-25wD5E6SeoCltdr8yS_YeC-2XSByGF3sUdHKDvhqL6hPD6UbTszIvVNevrtwSeUQtxDptnZsL3T3C/s275/brad's%20status.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIz9YcudcVfceGtkYzCYCW-SlqdQvkDjxXx0-At1LjKcVLG2otZWSG3x8fgv2pgmWgPPxgRrcfm8I_DejCZEXsWJF2ZbuNKPJXPedmz41JH-25wD5E6SeoCltdr8yS_YeC-2XSByGF3sUdHKDvhqL6hPD6UbTszIvVNevrtwSeUQtxDptnZsL3T3C/w183-h324/brad's%20status.jpg" width="183" /></a></div>Mike
White’s </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Brad’s Status</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> is like the
younger brother who, no matter how much he tries, simply can’t measure up to
his smarter and more successful elder sibling. This is not necessarily a
put-down, just a reflection of how difficult it is for modern movies to match
the honesty and focus of predecessors like King Vidor’s </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Crowd</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> or Chaplin’s </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">City
Lights</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">. These films were not afraid to leave their central characters
ordinary, much to the chagrin of studio executives - and many critics - who felt
that audiences preferred escapism and cheerful finales over reality.
(Apparently, Vidor begrudgingly filmed a rosier, less realistic ending in which
the lead characters were now wealthy). So, it’s not surprising that </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Brad’s Status</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> takes a safer route than its
predecessors. Its protagonist, Brad Sloan, is middle class rather than poor,
his family has a nice house rather than the cramped quarters seen in earlier
films, he’s happily married. Did I mention he has his own small business? In
other words, </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Brad’s Status</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> is not
about a struggle against poverty and normalcy, but like those earlier films, it
is about someone looking at his life and not exactly being content with what he
sees.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Brad
is played by Ben Stiller, one of the few actors to truly embrace the passage of
time and to explore the struggles that people can have with aging. In the film,
his character is 47, meaning he was born in the mid-1970s and had the advantage
of graduating from college just as globalization, the internet, and
deregulation were proliferating. In flashbacks, we see Brad with his college
buddies, all of whom we learn have gone on to become either famous, rich, or
both. And then there’s the glamour of the lives they lead – the mansions, the
stunningly beautiful women that surround them, the private jets, the ability to
say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">don’t worry about the cost</i> and
mean it. It’s no wonder he asks himself where he went wrong. I suspect most of
us have asked such questions at one time or another.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Brad’s
mid-life crisis coincides with one of those rituals that comes with having a
child who is approaching graduation - the road trip (here, it’s by air) to
potential universities. I took one of these myself, and as the movie
progressed, I was suddenly struck by the fact that my trip was really one of
the last times my father and I spent a significant amount of time together.
Sure, there have been holidays and family gatherings since then, but college is
often the start of one’s adult life, and family time is inevitably one of the
casualties of entering this stage of life, especially if one later settles down
in another city or – in my case – country. And so, as I watched it, I became
aware that what I was seeing was not just a father questioning his place in
life, but also one of the last chances he will have to strengthen his bond with
his son (well-played by Austin Abrams). Looking back, it is an opportunity I
did not take full advantage of.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Brad’s Status</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> resonates in a
number of ways. For many of us, his quest for status will reverberate at a time
when, thanks to social media, one can easily find oneself comparing lives with
friends, former co-workers, and peers with relative ease - and being
disappointed at the results. Especially when one of them posts photos of dinner
at a five-star restaurant the same night that you’ve eaten fast food. (My
experience, not Brad’s.) Yet there’s more to Brad’s sudden discontent. I
suspect that much of it stems from his distance from his college friends – both
physical and emotional. He is the odd-man-out, the guy making five figures when
everyone else has at least seven. In truth, how many friendships survive such
differences? To them, Brad’s become the kind of person you inquire about at a
party, but never actually call to check in on – despite having their phone
number or Facebook page. Is it any wonder that there’s a tinge of anger mixed
in with his envy?<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
then there’s Brad’s struggle to find the right words with his son. Just what do
you do when your son tells you he wants to go to an Ivy League school and the
first thing that pops into your head is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How
am I going to afford that? </i>How is a son to react when, despite your best
intentions, what comes out of your mouth sounds astonishingly like discouragement
at a time when you mean to be at your most positive? What Brad desperately
needs is a chance to play hero, and here, fortune smiles on him (while frowning
on his son). When his son misses the day of his interview with Yale, Dad springs
into action because, as luck would have it, one of his estranged college buddies
just happens to lecture there on occasion. The look on Stiller’s face is
perfect.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Were
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brad’s Status </i>content with simply
showing Brad’s last opportunity to be a hero in his son’s eyes and the power of
such an experience to reaffirm his status in life, I can well imagine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brad’s Status </i>being one of the great
films of the decade. However, it errs when it seeks to elevate Brad at the expense
of his former friends. In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brad’s Status</i>,
friends cannot simply drift apart or be pulled apart by success. No, wealth and
accomplishment have to be shown to be the moral ruin of those that achieve them,
making Brad the sole attainer of that elusive thing called happiness. Is the
message here that Brad should be glad he didn’t make it? If so, it’s a hard
sell. It would have been better – and truer to real life – if Brad’s estrangement
from his former friends were just one of those unfortunate things that happens
as people age. We don’t always make it, but we shouldn’t need others to fail to
be able to find contentment.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Despite
this, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brad’s Status </i>resonates in a
way that few films do nowadays. Brad seems real, and his thoughts and worries
are easily recognizable – or at least they will be one day. Most of us struggle
from time to time with who we are and who we might have become had we played
our cards just a little differently. I have no doubt that one day I too will
experience these thoughts as I explore college campuses with my own daughter. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How will I pay for this? Why didn’t I amount
to more? What happened to my idealism?</i> And I’m pretty sure that, like Brad,
at some point my daughter will look at me with a look that will make it all
worth it. I can’t wait. (on DVD and Blu-ray)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
and a half stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*I
would be remiss if I didn’t mention how impressive Ben Stiller is in this role.
It makes me wish he’d done more dramas throughout his career.</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-87897139561251191652022-10-21T23:26:00.001-07:002022-10-21T23:26:39.269-07:00Miscellaneous Musings<div style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">October
22, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">On a Cliché Awfully
Hard to Make Convincing<br /></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAlsETsqUfbTZbn3ZoFV3VoGCUvAASMFsJIt8eRv6ItX5ILrWCWVhal_oXAGWUxVGyDmYpCexK2haRer1P4o_9IScD-eX4t15Dq_H8UTwgTpaYekiM7RvTpUiVHUwybAQvMs3CbpL4qQN7X4qQhoI7dTljmC7ow2OJX7stgQfmTLZKFTDSmS2jhdR/s276/the%20heiress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="183" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheAlsETsqUfbTZbn3ZoFV3VoGCUvAASMFsJIt8eRv6ItX5ILrWCWVhal_oXAGWUxVGyDmYpCexK2haRer1P4o_9IScD-eX4t15Dq_H8UTwgTpaYekiM7RvTpUiVHUwybAQvMs3CbpL4qQN7X4qQhoI7dTljmC7ow2OJX7stgQfmTLZKFTDSmS2jhdR/w191-h159/the%20heiress.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><br />It
is one of the most romantic moments in a movie. You know the moment when one
character spots another for the first time and is immediately transfixed. Time
seems to move slower as the character’s jaw dangles slightly and the eyes
remain frozen on the figure some distance away. Later, this moment will be
described in a number of clichéd ways – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
world was standing still</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I felt an
instant connection</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was like magic</i>,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I knew I’d met my soul mate</i>. Sound familiar?<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Who
invented this? Was it the writers of the Bible who first conceived of a world
in which the first man laid eyes on the first woman and was instantly enthralled
by her? Was it Shakespeare, who – with only two acts to play with – couldn’t afford
to spend much time describing a long courtship? Was it those early dime novels
that told the kinds of stories that got books and their authors banned? Whoever
it was, they did movies a real disservice.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At
least, Shakespeare could rely on fairies and magic. If two characters needed to
suddenly be in love, he could simply have Puck cause a little mischief and - <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Voila!</i> – instant love. For Romeo and
Juliet, it was harder. Without the existence of magic in their tale, the
audience had to rely on the skills of the performers playing those parts, yet even
here they were aided by a degree of latitude. Romeo and Juliet are, after all,
teenagers, and audiences can more easily believe that two teenagers would instantly
be swept away by the sudden intensity of their emotions. Perhaps this is why
tales of love-at-first-sight are slightly more successful when they appear in
teen comedies and dramas. Would it be believable if Romeo were, say, a thirty-five-year-old
man who spied a twenty-five-year-old Juliet, or would we immediately assume <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">early mid-lift crisis</i>? Or how about this
– a widowed sixty-year-old Juliet and a single sixty-five-year-old Romeo? Would
we see this as true love or the result of years of loneliness? One more – a thirty-year-old
Romeo and a thirty-year-old Juliet? Would the similarity in their age make us
more accepting of their instant love, or would we automatically suspect the real
cause of their instant attraction was lust? And yes, there is a difference.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Would
it make a difference when they met? Are we more accepting of instant love when
the story is set in an earlier, “more innocent” time, one when women were given
dance cards and gentlemen would politely ask if they could reserve the seventh
dance of the evening. or when women were expected to wait for an admired gentleman
to come a-courting? Does love at first sight seem more believable under these circumstances?
If two travelers meet in Italy or France, are we more willing to believe that
true love can blossom in days than we would be if the story took place in
Russia or Greenland? And does the origin of the one they meet matter? Is a man
with a European accent more easily accepted as a producer of instant love than
a character with a southern accent? What about income? I imagine we’re more
likely to accept a woman falling in love with a man who can take them around
the world than one who is struggling to pay the rent. Just look at the ending
of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">City Lights</i>.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
recently sat down to watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Summertime</i>,
David Lean’s 1955 movie about an older woman who journeys to Italy and falls in
love with an Italian business owner who just happens to be unhappily married.
Their courtship happens at lightning speed. Consider this – they meet as
customer and salesman, meet again briefly at an outdoor dining area, meet again
when he delivers her purchase and has to fend off charges of having mislead her
to get a sale, and then just like that, they’re in each other’s arms,
proclaiming not interest or physical longing, but true love. Is it believable?
Not in the slightest. For despite the romantic setting, the presence of
musicians at the most opportune moments, the romantic feelings brought on by a
gondola ride along the Grand Canal, and the always impressive blue skies, there
is nothing in the script or the performances that suggests that the two of them
have been brought together by a power so overwhelming that resistance is both
futile and unwise. What seems more likely is that we have two lonely
individuals. One has been in few if any relationships, and her experiences have
been anything but positive; the other is pleasant and congenial, yet we
recognize in him the kind of person who derives pleasure from work because so
little else in his life is fully fulfilling. After all, a happily married man
does not usually walk along the cafes of Italy alone, looking for an empty
table to sit at. She allows herself a measure of happiness for once, and he
spies a woman who just might be receptive to his advances. In other words, a
relationship of convenience, the kind that – if we’re honest with ourselves –
most foreign-soil, short-term relationships are – with the possible exception
of Jessie and Celine from the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Before</i>
trilogy.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Love
is more believable in films in which the majority of the screen time is devoted
to showing that love grow in strength. Films such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When Harry Met Sally</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Before
Sunrise</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crazy/Beautiful</i> get
this right, and by the end of the film, few people in the audience doubt what
has developed in front of their very eyes. Films also excel at presenting us
couples that are already in love – married couples such as Al and Millie
Stephenson in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Best Years of Our Lives</i>
– marriages in which one person has fallen out of love, such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blue Valentine</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Revolutionary Road</i>, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Boyhood</i>,
and situations in which former flames meet years after their break-up and are
surprised how strongly they still feel for each other, such as Bogart and Bergman
in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Casablanca</i> and Jack and Ennis in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brokeback Mountain</i>.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Contrast
those with these relationships, and ask yourself whether you truly believed
they were in love.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Catherine and Nick in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Basic Instinct<br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ben and Fiona in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Intern<br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thor and Jane in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thor<br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Catherine and Dr. Cukrowitz in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Suddenly, Last Summer<br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Lelaina and Troy in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Reality Bites<br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
never did.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
can think of two movies that got it right. In addition to John Huston’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Misfits</i>, made in 1961,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>there’s William Wyler 1949 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Heiress</i>. The protagonist is Catherine
Sloper, a plain-looking, socially-awkward young woman who seems destined to be
single forever. She’s the kind of person whose dance card remains empty despite
numerous men being told that she is present at the party. At one such social
engagement, she happens to meet Morris Townsend, a young man whose dance card
is equally blank, and the two of them strike up a pleasant, yet awkward
conversation. Soon, and I mean soon, he’s proclaiming his affection, and she’s
head over heels in love, even declaring her desire to marry him over the wishes
of her father. It all sounds so romantic, yet it isn’t. In fact, it is not
supposed to. We are meant to see the relationship exactly as Catherine’s father
sees it, and to be utterly perplexed by the sheer enthusiasm that Catherine’s
aunt, Lavinia, has for their engagement. And this time, our suspicions are
proven correct.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Love
is tricky. As a youth, I thought love was easy to fall in, and I guess I was
right. I must have been in love with (and turned down by) someone new every
other week. Fortunately, it was also easy to fall out of love that formed so
quickly. True love, often the byproduct of an initial attraction not based on
inner beauty, took time to develop, and while I never had a moment of
realization that led me to run to a New Year’s party because I wanted the rest
of my life to begin as soon as possible, I wrote my fair share of midnight notes
proclaiming my recently-discovered love to someone I’d known for a while.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In
movies, relationships often start quickly and then slow down. However, I’ve
always found it to be the opposite, that the faster a relationship starts, the
more likely it is to flame out just as quickly. Rarely is the reflected in
movies, though, and I understand why. In movies, speed is a blessing. We can
skip all the messiness of an initial courtship, ignore the months two people would
normally spend getting to know each other, and focus on what really matters –you
know, stopping the alien invasion.</span><br /></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-86759467340466038242022-08-13T09:06:00.002-07:002022-08-13T09:06:28.259-07:00Review - Zenobia<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">August
12, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Zenobia</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – U.S., 1939<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonRjGRJrgeLu2AFA3jpnQQG1tN-NkSjZ4DgYORkgGX-fnMLeYdPBYR40ziMxEAkF-EV2ZOSN0bSZbBWUbkcdihv0SkIz_7-bvKD3VR7xH8zXxhKDRIv-CekagpV6xoNHVXVBKolkwCSljyM5HQq2tzgR0GAkumISBwA6IJCIhJJA8eYgY3MfGZSLx/s275/zenobia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjonRjGRJrgeLu2AFA3jpnQQG1tN-NkSjZ4DgYORkgGX-fnMLeYdPBYR40ziMxEAkF-EV2ZOSN0bSZbBWUbkcdihv0SkIz_7-bvKD3VR7xH8zXxhKDRIv-CekagpV6xoNHVXVBKolkwCSljyM5HQq2tzgR0GAkumISBwA6IJCIhJJA8eYgY3MfGZSLx/s1600/zenobia.jpg" width="183" /></a></div>There
ought to be a law that a legendary comedy team cannot be broken up unless the
pairing that inevitably follows puts the previous one to shame, and such was
definitely not the case with Oliver Hardy’s 1939 film with Harry Langdon, Gordon
Douglas’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zenobia</i>. A little backstory
here: Back in the late 1930’s, Stan Laurel, apparently yearning for the kind of
deal that contemporaries like Chaplin had – creative control, ownership of his
films, a pretty impressive paycheck, attempted to take Laurel and Hardy to a
rival studio. There was only one problem: his partner in comedy, who was still
under contract, got cold feet. Hal Roach then began to craft an Oliver Hardy
brand centering on Hardy’s merry adventures as an unfortunate father and
husband. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zenobia </i>was part of this
effort, and its failure at the box office is likely what brought Hardy’s solo
career to a screeching halt and necessitated a mad scramble to bring Stan back
into the fold. According to 2018’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Stan
& Ollie</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zenobia</i>, referred to
as the “elephant movie” throughout the picture, remained a source of tension
for years.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In
Laurel’s place, Roach inserted Harry Langdon, who got his start playing the
kind of man-child that it’s hard to fathom any single woman giving the time of
day. To be fair, there were aspects of this type of character in Stan Laurel’s go-to
persona, but Laurel’s character was all heart and sweetness. There was an
authentic bond between him and the people in his life that Langdon’s immature characters
for the most part lacked. Fortunately, Langdon is not playing a version of this
earlier role; alas, he is unfortunately tasked with playing a truly undefined
character, one that morphs into whatever the script requires at any given
moment, including both protagonist and antagonist.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Zenobia </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">takes place in
Mississippi in 1870, and the state is in remarkably excellent shape despite the
fact that it was the scene of over 26 major battles and lost at least 15,000 of
its residents during the Civil War. Indeed, this is a Mississippi where most of
the white residents, both rich and poor, dress like aristocrats and reside in
the some of the most lavish homes you’ll ever see. And yet underneath the
gentlemanly pleasantries and exquisite attire lies a deep undercurrent of
classism; here, the upper class are expected to mingle with and cater to the
whims of their fellow upperclassmen almost exclusively.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It
is under these circumstances that we meet doctor Emory Tibbett (Oliver Hardy),
who we learn early on has incurred the wrath of the upper class for having the
audacity to believe that it is more important to help those who really do need
medical help than to respond every time a wealthy person sneezes. And for his
part, he seems fine with the exclusion. The problem is that in the film’s
opening scene, his daughter, Mary (Jean Parker), becomes engaged to Jeffrey
Carter (James Ellison), the son of one of those wealthy patrons, and there’s a
strong suggestion that Jeffrey’s mother (Alice Brady) would not be too keen to
be connected by marriage to a mere “country doctor.”<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What’s
needed, therefore, is to make a good impression and not to have any incidents
that would give anyone a further reason to cast aspersions upon the family. You
know, something like being discovered to be treating a 6,000-pound elephant
named Zenobia, who just happens to be owned by a traveling salesman, tonic con
man, and jealous elephant owner named Throndyke McCrackle (Langdon). Pretty
soon the elephant is wreaking havoc at a ball and Hardy finds himself being
sued for stealing the affection of an elephant. Really.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Zenobia</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> is a good example
of a studio not recognizing the good things standing in front of them. They
had, first of all, a charismatic leading man who was more than capable of
playing both comedy and drama. They had a story with tons of potential to
produce laughs and cause audience members to reflect on the current state of
affairs. And they had a dynamic comedy team who could have soared if just given
a decent chance. I’m speaking here of Oliver Hardy and Billy Burke, who plays
Hardy’s sweet and cheerfully dense wife, Bessie. The two are the kind of
pairing that Burns and Allen would later make a staple of television. Here’s a
sample of their dialogue:<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hardy: “I’m the happiest man in the
state of Mississippi.”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Burke: “So am I.”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Hardy: “I’m not an elephant!”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Burke: ‘Well, not exactly.”<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">While
their delivery of such banter is perfect, what stands out is their chemistry.
The way they look at each other makes you believe that time has had no impact
of the depths of their love for each other, regardless of any frustrations that
Bessie’s quirks may cause. It made me wish they’d made more films together or,
at the very least, that this one had turned out better.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">One
of the problems with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zenobia</i> is,
curiously, Zenobia herself, for once she is introduced, her storyline dominates
the film, yet there isn’t much drama or comedy to be found in her storyline. We
might marvel of some of her choreography, but soon she’s stealing precious
screen time from the film’s original conflict. As a result, both Mary and
Jeffrey remain one-dimensional characters; the same is true of a family friend
named Virginia (June Lang). It’s clear that she has her eyes set on Jeffrey
(with his mother’s approval), but it is never clear who she is and why she
thinks Jeffrey would agree to marry her once she breaks up his engagement.
Instead, we get a courtroom scene and a series of those false moments in which
a character says something wise and a supporting character has a sudden change
of heart. It’s storytelling at its laziest.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film’s other hiccup involves the Tibbett family’s domestic help. While Hattie
McDaniels does the best she can with the only kind of role that Hollywood seems
to have ever cast her in, her character’s husband is played by Stepin Fetchit,
and to say that his stereotypical role has not aged well would be putting it mildly.
Lazy, easily confused, scared by the smallest thing, and hard to understand on
account of his tendency to mumble, the role is essentially a caricature, a
collection of stereotypes begun and perfected in minstrel shows. We know better
now, and lines like “I know what’s wrong, but I can’t remember” land with a
jaw-dropping thud now. To make matters worse, his character’s name is Zero.
Such were the times.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Zenobia</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> is never
unwatchable – Hardy never is, after all - yet it is hard not to ponder what
could have been had Roach and company trusted Hardy and Burke to carry the
film, had they expanded the elements involving class warfare, and had they
given more screen time to the supporting characters. The pairing of Hardy and
Langdon doesn’t work because there was little thought given to their pairing. They
have decent rapport, but they are failed by a script that is trying too hard to
replicate the zaniness of a Laurel and Hardy picture. At one point, Hardy
strains himself to utter what Roach obviously intended as Hardy’s new catchphrase,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This is a fine state of affairs</i>, and
you can almost hear the collective silence of the audience in 1939. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Burke’s
career would survive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Zenobia</i>. That same
year, she played Glinda in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wizard of
Oz</i>, and she continued acting until 1960. Langdon, on the other hand, made
mostly short films for the remainder of his career before dying of a cerebral hemorrhage
in 1944. Hardy would reunite with Laurel, and the two continued to make films
together until 1950. The prevailing wisdom is that they should never have been
broken up in the first place, and yet what I wouldn’t give for another
Hardy-Burke picture. (on DVD)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">2
and a half stars</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-7082577989822371772022-07-19T20:04:00.000-07:002022-07-19T20:04:13.746-07:00Review - A Man Vanishes<div style="text-align: left;"> July 20, 2022<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Man Vanishes</i> –
Japan, 1967<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMxpx_6cAme46WlNQFKY1rIJDaf9lIgTpYnbdn5-5znZPRbQ_0toZCZZmJe_se9ByPgpRjlarlKWyljVN-VU_lxrqLjYuq4Gw00odEfImBX_JoPj4_m8fC6vSHrsZYUPkZ-B-WxdW1Sn1W36O7G9cb63DekQDvYiSZtlXd6gYfINTtzt80htaA9yaL/s268/a%20man%20vanishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="188" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMxpx_6cAme46WlNQFKY1rIJDaf9lIgTpYnbdn5-5znZPRbQ_0toZCZZmJe_se9ByPgpRjlarlKWyljVN-VU_lxrqLjYuq4Gw00odEfImBX_JoPj4_m8fC6vSHrsZYUPkZ-B-WxdW1Sn1W36O7G9cb63DekQDvYiSZtlXd6gYfINTtzt80htaA9yaL/w188-h253/a%20man%20vanishes.jpg" width="188" /></a></div><br />Shohei Imamura’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A
Man Vanishes</i> begins with a police report detailing the disappearance of a
32-year-old Japanese man named Tadashi Oshima. From the report, we learn the
barest information about him – his height, his job, the city he disappeared from,
his engagement; and for all intents and purposes, he seems like an average man,
certainly not the kind that would up and vanish suddenly. Perhaps it is this
everyday disposition that draws Imamura (here playing himself) to the case. In
any event, when the report concludes we learn that Imamura and his crew are on
the move, determined to learn more about the missing man and possibly bring him
home. It’s a noble cause, but it also puts Imamura (the character) in an unenviable
position, for if he fails in this endeavor, he will only really have succeeded
in memorializing his own naiveté.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>And so the investigation begins. Interesting, two hours
later, Imamura is no closer to ascertaining the whereabouts of Mr. Oshima, yet
he has succeeded in destroying the reputation of several people involved in the
investigation. One of these ruined characters is Oshima himself, who we learn
early on embezzled money from his employer twice. The first time, he seems to
have regretted his actions and over time paid the company back. The second
time, well, you know what he did after that. We also learn that Oshima was a bit
of a ladies man and may not have had a faithful bone in his body. In other
words, he was no saint. This leads to a series of interviews with a woman named
Kimiko, all seemingly intended to get the juiciest details possible. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A love triangle. A dominating woman. A
possible abortion.</i> You can practically hear producers salivating. No wonder
Kimiko’s face is partially covered – another reputation in tatters. Can you
blame her for refusing to be interviewed further?<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Having lost his sympathetic lead and been unable to coax more
of the kind of details one often finds on daytime TV from the missing man’s
lover, Imamura turns his attention to Oshima’s fiancé, Yoshie Hayakawa, who
initially fits traditional notions of the innocent, sweet, and faithful damsel
in distress. After all, who other than a lovely human being would put their
lives on hold to search for the man who jilted her? Yet is that really a worthy
subject for a movie? Where’s the plot? What’s the desired ending? And so in a
quest to find something worth filming, Imamura and his interviewer, Shigeru Tsuyuguchi,
begin to question her motives. To them, Yoshie seems too comfortable in front
of the camera, too polished. They also suspect that she has fallen for Tsuyuguchi.
And thus the film has a new subject for examination and potential humiliation,
and, really, it is just getting started. By the end of the film, two additional
characters will have their lives upended, with previously stable relationships
perhaps permanently severed.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>In other words, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A
Man Vanishes </i>is not really about the vanished man or the 91,000 people that
the film states go missing in Japan every year. Perhaps it was in 1967 before
the advent of reality TV or the push for television ratings and box office
results, but I suspect that modern audiences will see in the film a commentary
on the media’s and film industry’s reliance of the sensational to get audiences
into theaters. A film, this thinking goes, cannot be about a character who is
never seen, and it cannot be about a character who the audience loses sympathy
for. It must have drama, even if that drama has to be manufactured and never
quite feels a hundred per cent authentic.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Man Vanishes</i>
ends with two scenes that raise the curtain on the notion that the film was an
actual documentary, yet they are a mistake. First, they cast Imamura as a
creative wiz who must be looked to for guidance and explanation, as if he is a
master-explainer of all things theoretical, but it also strips the film of some
of its relevance and strengths. After you invest your emotions and energy in
these characters for two hours, being told it was all a ruse can be more than
frustrating. Would <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Silence of the
Lambs </i>have the same impact if it ended with a scene in which<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>Anthony Hopkins (not Hannibal Lector)
and director Jonathon Demy talked about how movies can shape the audience’s
perception of time? I doubt it.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Man Vanishes</i> has
divided critics since its release. According to Wikipedia, director Nagisa Oshima
criticized the film for using documentary techniques without having a theme, arguing
that documentaries most often start with themes and central figures instead of discovering
them as the film proceeds. I agree with that sentiment. Other critics have
called it “explosively provocative” and “increasingly complex.” Here, I find
myself torn, for while the film is well acted and visually intriguing due to its
superb editing and excellent use of live action shots, archive footage, and
photos, its ability to be provocative comes from its sensational aspects rather
than actual drama. Characters sit around and cast aspersions on one another,
yet there’s little in the way of payoff. True, life does not always have tidy
resolutions, but they do have something resembling them. No so with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Man Vanishes</i>. It just ends with
arguing and a clapperboard. As the credits rolled, I didn’t marvel at Imamura’s
ability to tell a story; rather, I questioned his ability to end one. After
all, isn’t it a desperate writer that inserts himself into his own story? (on
DVD)<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>3 stars<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">*<i>A Man Vanishes </i>is in Japanese with English subtitles.</div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-46496531671424326892022-06-04T09:48:00.004-07:002022-06-23T02:15:01.507-07:00Miscellaneous Musings<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">June
4, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">On <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun: Maverick</i></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">and the Problem of Serving Two Audiences<br /><o:p></o:p></b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfu5H1t46LrnKEqIR-Qyv5ITc6OTp261OPKLRNnvDZyJwFnLkhhAFdhn2MY9ZOjAd-nYa5XdpLUemUqHd0Z8Ypf8xpvBJI_FF2gdSb7VMlJvuzdtlwyAaLPKVtB_dlgFCSOJBeVnBPnFUpWnTZac9_9M95TvuyIvZp1d-vfxz1rJhxzYAy_ejsckh/s273/top%20gun%20maverick.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="184" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfu5H1t46LrnKEqIR-Qyv5ITc6OTp261OPKLRNnvDZyJwFnLkhhAFdhn2MY9ZOjAd-nYa5XdpLUemUqHd0Z8Ypf8xpvBJI_FF2gdSb7VMlJvuzdtlwyAaLPKVtB_dlgFCSOJBeVnBPnFUpWnTZac9_9M95TvuyIvZp1d-vfxz1rJhxzYAy_ejsckh/w184-h322/top%20gun%20maverick.jpg" width="184" /></a></div>Stop
me if you’ve heard this one: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We didn’t
want to do a sequel until we had a great story.</i> This line – or a variation
of it – is becoming a standard whenever someone is promoting what promises to
be the next great chapter in a series that more than likely no one had thought
needed a follow-up. Think of how perfectly some of the “final” movies ended –
Luke, Leia, and Han celebrating after the destruction of the second Death Star,
the Ghostbusters once again victorious over evil, Rick and Rachel riding off
into the sunset and an uncertain future. Fade to black for the last time. Well,
at least until someone in a studio gets the bright idea that what audiences
really want – in lieu of a new creative venture - is to catch up with their
favorite characters from their childhood. And so the Dark Side reawakens,
ghosts once again threaten to make the earth an oasis for creatures from the
underworld, and we learn that Rick is living in an abandoned hotel in a radioactive
city all by his lonesome because the romantic inside him does not allow him to
find joy even so many years after the death of his android wife. So much for
happy endings.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
now, we get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun: Maverick</i>. Now,
in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit to having been a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun </i>enthusiast, so much so that for
about a month and a half, my best friend and I had a habit of rushing home from
school and popping in his VHS copy of the film. It got so we could recite the
film as we watched it, and on more than one occasion, our playground
conversations would suddenly become re-enactment of our favorite moments. I had
the soundtrack on cassette tape and pretty much wore it out by rocking out to
either “Danger Zone” or doing a slow groove to Harold Faltermeyer’s
patriotism-inducing theme. My friend went further. He got the sunglasses and
the flight jacket, and for a little while had visions of becoming a fighter
pilot and having an inverted adventure like his cinematic idol.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
have never owned a copy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun</i>,
though. By the time, I began collecting movies, my excitement for the film had
waned considerably. I still enjoyed much of it, but there was something about
the last half hour that annoyed me the more I thought of it. I mean, there’s an
incident an ocean away and instead of sending pilots that are already in that
part of the world, they interrupt a graduation ceremony to send a bunch of
recent grads halfway across the world, just for a few of them to be shot down
in mere seconds so that Maverick can be sent in to save the day. One particularly
head-scratching moment: when Maverick tells a pilot to break right at three and
then says, “Three!” This is followed by hugging and forgiveness, before
Maverick, stoic as usual, hurls his late friend’s dog tags into the Pacific
Ocean. I remember it bringing a tear to more than a few of seventh grade
classmate’s eyes during an unexpected in-class screening. Oh, and then Maverick
says he wants to come back as an instructor because I guess you qualify to be
one after you’ve successfully survived one dogfight and buzzed a number of
towers.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Now,
answer this question truthfully. When was the last time you asked yourself, “Hey,
what’s “Maverick” up to these days?” Anyone? I didn’t think so, and yet, here,
thirty-six years later, comes the answer to that question.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
should say here that overall, I enjoyed the film. Cruise immerses himself in
the role, as he always does, and because he insists on doing his own stunts
(and I imagine his own flying), the film’s biggest scenes resonate more than
they would if he had simple sat in a plane on a Hollywood studio and pretended
to be in the air. Maverick’s post-dogfight story feels real, especially for a
character who has such a hard time with authority, (He doesn’t even wear a
helmet when he rides a motorcycle – that’s how much of a rebel he is!) Also,
there’s Maverick’s continued grief over Goose’s death, and if you’ve seen
Cruise’s previous, you know he excels at playing characters suffering from
trauma.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Soon,
Maverick’s called back to Top Gun to prepare some of its elite graduates for a
top secret and rather perilous mission. And it is here the movie begins to make
some of the same errors as so many of its contemporary legacy sequels: it tries
to please two competing audiences. For fans of the first film, it keeps its
focus on Maverick – his name is in the title after all - but for the new
generation of audience members, it goes younger and in many cases hotter, once
again presenting Top Gun as the place to find not only elite fighter pilots but
the latest pin-ups as well. There would be nothing wrong with this were it not
for the fact that the film begins to feel very familiar very quickly. There’s a
scene in a bar which ends in a chorus of young people screaming, “Great Balls
of Fire!” There an arrogant young pilot who cares only about his own
achievements and another who puts safety first, there’s a love interest who isn’t
sure getting involved with you-know-who is such a good idea, and there’s the
tried-and-true storyline involving Maverick and one of the pilots who bears a
striking resemblance to his former flying buddy. Of the new characters, only
Jennifer Connolly as Patty is given enough screen time for her personality to
be fleshed out fully. The rest remain clichéd enigmas. By the time Maverick
picked his elite team, I had no idea whether any of them had the right stuff
for the mission, but at least they all got to shine in a game of beach
football.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Top Gun: Maverick</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> culminates in the
kind of high-flying action scene audience expects and will be pleased with, and
yet as the end credits rolled, I found myself looking forward in time to the
fateful day when someone decides to watch the two films back-to-back, for
without the thirty-six-year delay between them, much of what now seems fresh
and exciting may seem detrimentally familiar, and instead of marveling at the
technical wonders on a screen, we may sigh at the film’s habit of returning to
the well far too often. Another scene of pilots acting cocky, another turn on
the piano, another group of pilots embarrassed upon realizing their commanding
officer is someone they weren’t exactly respectful to the night before, another
set of officers explaining why they wish they could ground Maverick. It all
seemed so familiar. Imagine how you’d feel during a binge-watching session.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">And
therein lies the problem with so many of today’s sequels. They are serving two
masters, and when your loyalty is divided, the results usually aren’t pleasing
to either side. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun: Maverick</i> is certainly
impressive from a technological standpoint, and the acting is generally superb,
yet the appreciation you experience while watching it may fade upon reflection.
The mind looks for connections, and inevitably it will find them in the basic
storylines of the two <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun </i>films.
Sure, the film will still amaze audiences, but will it have the same appeal if
just two hours earlier you saw similar characters do pretty much the exact same thing? I doubt it.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Sadly,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Top Gun: Maverick</i> could have charted
a different course. It could still have told a tale of missed opportunities and
dreams that were not completely fulfilled, yet it could have soared to new
cinematic heights by making one gutsy creative decision. It could have truly
been about passing the torch. All it had to do was turn the action over to the
next generation of pilots. Give them the glory and the heartbreak. Let
Maverick, proud father figure that he is, watch the fruits of his extensive
labor from the sidelines. He’s done his part. Let him pass the torch. That would really have made
him a Hollywood maverick. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-77124747054905997172022-05-20T19:05:00.001-07:002022-05-20T19:05:24.241-07:00Review - Make Way for Tomorrow<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">May
20, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Make Way for
Tomorrow</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
– U.S., 1937<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV8vew3nQ-lQR5SatO2QEb_P9QIE51__PFxtZaskK49lN5HoTzpqd6-175yxT45FrplMXytQx5FAGJQ2-cIuuxUujA_bxttq7q4tREd-uAnM4YmzJPaWZzv-RSgthwdn_GdcLhVher_SNnADntykOhQY8aia-y6THCmheMEQz-YPCTgrtjOGuuLvBV/s276/make%20way%20for%20tomorrow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="182" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV8vew3nQ-lQR5SatO2QEb_P9QIE51__PFxtZaskK49lN5HoTzpqd6-175yxT45FrplMXytQx5FAGJQ2-cIuuxUujA_bxttq7q4tREd-uAnM4YmzJPaWZzv-RSgthwdn_GdcLhVher_SNnADntykOhQY8aia-y6THCmheMEQz-YPCTgrtjOGuuLvBV/w182-h231/make%20way%20for%20tomorrow.jpg" width="182" /></a></div><br />There
are stories that transcend time, that tell such universal truths that, despite
clear indicators that they are from a specific time and place, they have a
resonance that a more recent film replete with the latest technological
advances and starring members of the current A-list simply may not. Sometimes they
are mirrors providing a physical image to things that many of us often would
prefer not to have running around in our heads, harsh truths about the kind of
people we either are or are susceptible to becoming in just the right (or wrong
in this case) circumstance. Ang Lee touched on this in his debut film, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pushing Hands</i>, Ira Sachs explored a
variation of it in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love Is Strange</i>, Barry
Levinson in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Avalon</i>, Yasujiro Ozu in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tokyo Story</i>, Edward Yang in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yi Yi</i>. And one such truth is this: We
can be quite awful to the people who raised us.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Leo
McCarey begins his 1937 masterpiece, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make
Way for Tomorrow</i>. with an acknowledgement of that sad fact through a scroll
that ends with an impassioned plea to heed those immortal words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Honor thy mother and father</i>, and frankly
speaking, this is the only part of the movie I wish I could apply editor’s
scissors to. After all, who needs to be “told” when what follows “shows” in
such devastating detail?<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
then drop in on a family gathering of sorts, and it is soon clear that these do
not occur all that often. After some pleasant (and a few unpleasant)
pleasantries, the patriarch of the family, Barkley Cooper (Victor Moore) delivers
quite a shock: He and his wife, Lucy (Beulah Bondi), both in their seventies,
are only a few days away from homelessness, and there’s nothing to be done
about it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, in the fairy tale version
of this story, the Coopers’ adult children all band together and find an
idyllic spot for them to spend their remaining years together. Here, that
notion is fractured almost immediately.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There
are concerns about space, distance, timing, financing, and – sadly, perhaps most
obstructionist of all – family. Some of these concerns indeed have merit, for
few people, especially those living in the big city, buy a bigger (and more
expensive) house on the off-chance that their parents need a place to stay
later. Soon, the children reach a decision – to split the couple up. Mr. Cooper
will stay with the eldest daughter, Cora (Elisabeth Risdon), and Mrs. Copper will live with the
eldest son, George (Thomas Mitchell), in his big apartment, currently
co-occupied by George, his wife, Anita (Fay Bainter), and their teenage
daughter, Rhoda (Barbara Read). Temporarily, their children assure them, and
Mrs. Cooper is willing to believe these optimistic sentiments. Mr. Cooper, much
less so. Why would it work, he reasons, when it hasn’t worked for anyone else?<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Thus,
two people who have spent the previous fifty years together are separated in
the vein hope that their children, into whose hands they’ve just placed their
well-being, will do right by them. It’s telling then that Robert Cooper (Ray
Meyer), the youngest son, who bursts into a jazzy homage to his mother upon
entering the Cooper’s home, and their younger daughter, Nellie (Minna Gombell),
practically disappear from the film.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film adopts an episodic formula that works impressively. McCarey first shows us
Mrs. Cooper’s experience, which sees George’s wife and daughter adopt that
ever-positive message <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it’s only three
months</i> – only for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">three months</i> to
seem much more permanent with each passing day. Traditions are disrupted,
private space is lost, and friends stop calling on Rhoda. In one scene, Mrs.
Cooper (the wife) tries to explain to Mrs. Cooper (the mother) that she too is
Mrs. Cooper, and that only one Mrs. Cooper should be running the house and
taking care of Mr. Cooper (the son and husband). It doesn’t solve anything. In
another, Mrs. Cooper (the wife) is holding a bridge class in her home, and the evening
is going splendidly until the Cooper’s maid (Louise Beavers) enters carrying the
elder Mrs. Cooper’s rocking chair. The “invasion” practically unnerves Anita. The
scene culminates with an emotional phone call between the elder Coopers, one
which occurs in full-view of the bridge class and its instructor. The room is
dead silent, stunned out of their annoyance by the sheer heartbreak of the
situation, and yet not a single person offers a word of comfort. In truth, what
can they say? Could anything make the situation better?<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">McCarey
then transports us a few states over to update us on Mr. Cooper’s status before
finishing the film by bringing these two characters back together, but not for
the reasons you’d hope. The finale is pure cinematic magic. I was struck as I
watched this part of the film by two sets of characters. There were the Cooper children
and their families, of course, and then there were the people Mr. Cooper
encountered in his new home and those he and his wife meet during their reunion
in the big city. In fairness to the former group, most of them try. It’s just
that human nature is not on their side. You can have all of the best of intentions
only to see those sentiments dwarfed and ultimately defeated by instinctive tendencies
toward self-preservation. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Get things back
to normal. Preserve your space, your routine, your social network. </i>I
recently read an essay by a college student whose family experienced bouts of
homelessness. In one passage, he recounts having to continually move from home
to home because of his relatives’ “one-night only” policy. My immediate
reaction was that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I </i>would never do
that, and yet years ago, when my half-sister called out of the blue and asked
if she and her boyfriend could stay with us while they explored a possible move
to California, I blinked, and the visit never came to pass. So, I get the
children. They’re not horrible people; they’re just been put in a horrible
situation, and like so many of us, they are unable to rise to the occasion.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But
then there are the people the Cooper’s meet along the way: the owner of a
corner store who engages with Mr. Cooper in long, meaningful chats whenever he
frequents his shop, the manager of the hotel who treats them like royalty when
he learns that they spent their honeymoon in his hotel fifty years earlier, the
band leader who spies them in the crowd and changes melodies to give them more
time to dance the waltz. There’s even a car salesman who becomes so affected by
them that he practically becomes their chauffer for the evening. In these and
many other characters, we see the humanity and goodness that stress and
self-protective tendencies have severely weakened in the Connor children and
their families.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
then there’s the ending, which is one of the most poignant in cinematic
history.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
are guided along this journey by two extremely capable lead actors and a host
of equally impressive supporting actors. We sense the down-home nature of the
Moore’s and Bondi’s independently minded-characters. These are people who would
shed far fewer tears over the loss of a house than they would the loss of time
with each other. They seem less out of place than out of time. Their children
turn to other people for advice, and while they may get along with their
grandchildren’s generation in small doses, there’s a sense that there will
always be a gap between them, as if time, as if is prone to do, has made their
experiences and views, irrelevant. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make Way
for Tomorrow</i> shows the error in this way of thinking. In the Cooper’s, we
see two people we should emulate instead of looking past. We should want what
they have and seek them out for advice of how to achieve it. Of course, that
conflicts with the understandable focus on the present and the belief that
previous generations couldn’t possible comprehend today’s. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Step aside</i>, we seem to say. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make
way for tomorrow</i>. We never suspect that one day they’ll be saying that
about us or that they’ll be as wrong as we were. (on DVD and Blu-ray from the Criterion
Collection)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">5
stars</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-36968678677453470942022-04-19T07:02:00.002-07:002022-04-19T07:02:31.878-07:00Review - The Strong Man<div style="text-align: left;"> April 18, 2022<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Strong Man</i>
– U.S., 1924<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTNNrz7epILBHfuekcyv2HMVk8jhhIypeqepX3NLXjC4T5aNtE4uW-s26z6yU8F1rd1D_2G4qlihfq6UPjljyFuf7BRWS0r1EqQkbB8ZLEztbO_q5IsR2V6CbwdvRAbbVwlHyr3fW-lk6F8Ca6M0fbEqs2TFrgKVJo3evtwtXEZyRo0zIzKdqSdTi/s249/the%20strong%20man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="203" data-original-width="249" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTNNrz7epILBHfuekcyv2HMVk8jhhIypeqepX3NLXjC4T5aNtE4uW-s26z6yU8F1rd1D_2G4qlihfq6UPjljyFuf7BRWS0r1EqQkbB8ZLEztbO_q5IsR2V6CbwdvRAbbVwlHyr3fW-lk6F8Ca6M0fbEqs2TFrgKVJo3evtwtXEZyRo0zIzKdqSdTi/w249-h231/the%20strong%20man.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><br />Legend has it that Charlie Chaplin shut down production
of his 1931 film, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">City Lights</i>, for a
year due to a terrible case of creator’s block; see, he just couldn’t explain
why a blind woman would mistake the Tramp for a wealthy patron. While that
length of time might seem excessive, I can understand Chaplin’s desire to get
it right, and perhaps part of his obsession with finding the right rationale
was due to a film released just five years earlier that must have driven coherency-focused
writers like Chaplin absolutely nuts. That film was Frank Capra’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Strong Man</i>, starring former circus,
medicine show, and Vaudeville performer, Harry Langdon.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Strong Man</i>,
Langdon plays Paul Bergot, a Belgian World War I soldier stationed in No Man’s
Land. When Bergot isn’t firing at unseen German soldiers, he’s gazing longingly
at the picture of Mary Brown, a young woman who has confessed her love for him
in a letter he must have read a million times. When he lets his guard down and
resumes gazing at her picture, he is captured by a rather large strong German
soldier who whisks him away presumably to a POW camp. I say presumably because
the very next time we see him, he’s the assistant of this very same German
soldier and traveling around the U.S. as the marquee member of a strong man
act. I imagine the story of their pairing would have made for quite an
interesting film.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>Slapstick is sometimes described as a collection of
humorous scenes loosely connected to a romantic subplot that hardly seems to
have been given the time needed for it to blossom and engage, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Strong Man</i> fits this description for
the most part. In addition to the scene in No Man’s Land, in which German
bullets actually do Bergot a favor by exterminating the cooties crawling over
him, there’s a humorous bit involving Bergot, the strong man, and some rather
large luggage, a clever bit in which Bergot unsuccessfully tries to get away
from a woman who hid a wad of stolen money in his coat pocket (she initially claims
to be “Little Mary”), Bergot’s attempts at putting on a strong man act solo,
and finally a long scene in which he defends Mary’s honor against a scoundrel
intent on making Mary one of his “attractions” as punishment for her preacher
father’s campaign against sin and vice. In other words, the film has enough
creative elements to work wonders. There’s even an extremely clever bit in
which Bergot is tossed from a wagon only to tumble down a hill and crash into
the very same wagon as it continues its way down a hill.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>My favorite of these bits is the one involving the femme
fatale (Gertrude Astor) because of its extraordinary choreography. In one
clever bit, the woman keeps trying to reach into Bergot’s pocket only for him
to turn at the most inopportune moment. There’s also a clever moment in which
Bergot has realized the woman is not Mary (for rather old-fashioned reasons)
and begun to walk away after she feigns passing out (really, that happens). The
only problem is that a good Samaritan just happens to be nearby and calls out
that he can’t just leave her like that, which in reality, he can’t and doesn’t.
The scene culminates in Bergot carrying the woman up the stairs leading to her
apartment and mistaking a number of things for steps. This part of the film is
comic perfection.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>And yet the rest of film does not work nearly as well as
it should, primarily because the romantic angle is a headscratcher. So, here
are two characters established in early scenes as being in love, and yet
apparently they’ve never met. Perhaps there was a pen pal program during the
First World War that I’m unware of, but it is hard to imagine how true love
could flourish under such circumstances, especially 80 years before the idea of
social media existed (and I’m still not entirely sold on the idea that it can
flourish there). In fact, much of what passes as narrative in the film involves
Bergot searching for Mary and knowing her so poorly that he runs in the
direction of anyone whose names just happens to resemble hers.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>And then we meet her, and the romantic pairing makes even
less sense. See, Mary Brown (Priscilla Bonner), like the little flower girl in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">City Lights </i>is blind, which begs more
than a few questions, not the least of which is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Who wrote the letters?</i> I’ll add a few more. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">How did they start corresponding? Who took the picture? </i>And
finally, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What was her plan for their
eventual meeting?</i> Again, the film has no answers. It seems more content to
make Bergot her knight in shining armor, which is fine, yet its disinterest in
justifying its characters’ deep feelings, reminiscent of the way it avoids
explaining how two soldiers on the opposite side of a war could end up a
Vaudeville team, hurts the film, for why should viewers invest in a couple or
partnership if the makers of the film had no interest in rewarding that
investment?<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Sure, the two characters share a sweetness after they
actually meet, and the film’s closing moments evoke the kind of warmth and
contentment that accompanies most happy endings. However, here those feelings
feel unearned, a bi-product of our natural disposition to smile whenever a
princess gets her Prince Charming, even as we sense how ludicrous their pairing
actually is.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Still, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Strong
Man </i>remains a decent film. Perhaps my misgivings have more to do with the
curse of looking back, for seeing things in reverse order can make progress
look like reversion, stripping a film of its rightful role as a necessary step
in the development of cinema. One would hope story rises above aesthetics, but sometimes
it does not, and having seen an idea done better can make another rendition of
it less impressive regardless of whether one can mentally put the two films in
chronological order. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">City Lights</i>
spoiled us, and its greatness makes similar movies – whether predecessors or
successors – pale in comparison. It’s unfair, but…really, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">who wrote the darn letter?</i> (on DVD as part of Kino’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Harry Langdon… the Forgotten Clown</i>)<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>3 stars</div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-38599232107338137662022-04-04T08:45:00.006-07:002022-06-04T10:00:26.533-07:00Review - The Mikado (1960)<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">April
4, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Mikado</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> – 1960, US<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsdubkKcSCSSwOZhUokRE7OAt1-WDDUkhEfbvwQP_70FSAk9X64rB4gLZD3arlGOiLGdFJPkjh0PVQEc2HWLCzFkfXmBuiZsCAJ2H8_V3_Y9g-7n-ZIOs3RYTgoGM24zumKBBGh4ABDtpTAV8REFlgLYUkgJCwQcMOr5VWRRTj5sZcpqGLBCUnfEl/s225/the%20mikado.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAsdubkKcSCSSwOZhUokRE7OAt1-WDDUkhEfbvwQP_70FSAk9X64rB4gLZD3arlGOiLGdFJPkjh0PVQEc2HWLCzFkfXmBuiZsCAJ2H8_V3_Y9g-7n-ZIOs3RYTgoGM24zumKBBGh4ABDtpTAV8REFlgLYUkgJCwQcMOr5VWRRTj5sZcpqGLBCUnfEl/w225-h211/the%20mikado.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><br />You
never really get over your first love, especially if what are you most known
for later in life is not it. In the case of Grouch Marx, he was known for his absurdity,
wit, and whimsical musings onscreen, and yet, Marx started out a singer. He had
a beautiful voice, and when desperate economic times came, he was pulled out of
school and sent on the road as part of a traveling musical act. To say it did
not go well would be an understatement, though this was no fault of his own; he
just happened to have hitched his fortunes to two unscrupulous performers, both
of whom ran off with his earnings, leaving him penniless and alone in cities he
hardly knew.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Fame
came later, first from his years with his brothers in Vaudeville and on
Broadway, and later from his slapstick antics in a series of wacky films, also
with his brothers. He would sing in many of these film, yet his numbers were
known more for their puns and absurdity than musical complexity (think “I’m
Against It” from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Horse Feathers</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lydia the Tattooed Lady</i> from 1939’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">At the Circus</i>). Did audiences look
forward to his musical numbers the way later ones kept their eyes peeled for Hitchcock’s
brief appearances? It’s hard to say. However, I can imagine audiences being
amazed by the sheer number of witticisms flying by them at break-neck speed and
being perhaps a bit frustrated when some of them didn’t have the decency to
stay long enough to be properly understood. By the time he made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mikado</i>, which aired on television as
part of the Bell Telephone Hour, he was 70 years old and wealthy. He could have
been easing into retirement. And yet…<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
following quote is attributed to Marx’s daughter, Melinda Marx Leung: “It was
my father’s lifelong dream to play the role of Ko-Ko in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mikado</i>.” Thank goodness he got his wish then – or at least part
of it. After all, when an opera clocks in at two hours and forty minutes and
your production of it lasts just 52 minutes, it is really accurate to say that
you have done the musical? It’s a bit like saying that you played Ahab in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Moby Dick </i>when all you really did was a
two-person scene during a night of amateur theater. On the other hand, can you
conceive of anyone in today’s Hollywood who would perform in an opera? Jennifer
Hudson perhaps, but that’s where my list pretty much ends.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">So,
just what is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mikado</i>, and why
would Marx have been so drawn to it? Well, for one, despite its name and
setting, it is not an opera about Japan. In truth, nothing in it - neither the
characters nor the setting – bares any resemblance to Japan. Instead, it is a
satire on British society and institutions that just happens to use Japan as a
stand-in for the British Empire. The characters’ names, far from being
representative of the Japanese culture, are examples of English baby-talk. For
example, the lead character is named Nanki-Poo, a fun riff on the word <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">handkerchief</i>. And Nanki-Poo’s love
interest? She goes by the name of Yum Yum.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">In
the opening scene, we learn that the leader of Japan, the Mikado (Dennis King),
has made flirting a capital crime, an act that is intended to mock British
regulations far more than Japanese society, which I’m not sure either Gilbert
or Sullivan knew much about. I believe it is this aspect of the opera that drew
Marx to it, for he must have been deeply appreciative of Gilbert and Sullivan’s
ability to use art to poke fun at authority and convention. After all, he and
his brothers had practically made a career out of it.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">But
I digress. This is a review, after all, and as such, the central question I
should be answering is this one: Is it any good? The short answer, thankfully, is
yes, and much of its success is due to the fact that Gilbert and Sullivan saw <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mikado</i> as a comedy, and comedy –
especially when it involved poking fun at authority - was Groucho’s bread and
butter. As Ko-Ko, he seems aware of the absurdity even when curveballs are
lobbed his way. In the film’s opening moments, we learn that Ko-Ko, a former
tailor, was convicted of flirting and thus sentenced to death. However,
authorities, no fan of the Mikado’s edicts and reliance of capital punishment,
decide to make the next man scheduled for execution the new High Executioner,
reasoning quite logically that one cannot execute himself. (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s dangerous</i>, we later learn from
Ko-Ko, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and besides suicide is a capital
offense</i>.) One guess who the new executioner turns out to be.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">For
some unexplained reason, Ko-Ko is also scheduled to marry Yum-Yum (Barbara Meister),
which comes as a shock to Nanki-Poo, who upon arrival, thinking that her
guardian (oh, that’s Ko-Ko also) has already been executed, quickly announces
his intentions to pursue her hand in marriage. Hearing of his feelings, as well
as his later intention to commit suicide due to his dashed dreams, Nanki-Poo
(Robert Rounseville) makes a deal with Ko-ko. Seeing as the Mikado has just
threatened to eliminate the position of High Executioner if no execution takes
place within a month (in the opera, he threatens to reduce the city of Titipu
to the status of a village), Ko-Ko agrees to let Nanki-Poo marry Yum-Yum,
provided that he agrees to be the one executed, after which Ko-Ko promises to
do the honorable thing and marry the recently widowed Yum-Yum. (Yes, this is
really the plot.) Suffice to say, nothing goes right with the plan. And did I
mention that Nanki-Poo is really the son of the Mikado and is fleeing an
arranged marriage? Believe it or not, this is all revealed in the first 19 minutes.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ko-Ko
is always close enough to break in with a witty comment or a life-saving idea. Characters
break the fourth wall, and lines such as “You can see how being buried alive
puts a damper on things” are said with deadpan seriousness, much like Leslie
Nielson and company would later do to great effect in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Naked Gun</i> movies. Only Ko-Ko seems aware of the ludicrousness of it
all, and this may be why his songs differ so greatly from those of the other
characters. I cannot say with any certainty that Marx improvised any of his
lines, but if he didn’t, it’s amazing how well the role suited his brand of
humor and established personality.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">We
no longer have anything resembling The Bell Telephone Hour, and that’s a shame,
for television can be so much more than 30-seconds of mindless distraction.
Today, we have shows like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Masked
Singer</i>, in which celebrities don costumes and dance and sing. These shows
may be entertaining, but are they inspirational? Will audiences walk away from
them wondering what else a writing team created, or decide to give a form of
music that had previously not been on their radar a chance? Groucho knew and
appreciated Gilbert and Sullivan, and he used his star power to bring them to a
medium that they likely couldn’t have contemplated the existence of. In doing
so, he brought them to a whole new audience, an accomplishment that continues
today whenever a fan of the Marx Brothers decides to watch <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mikado</i> because it stars Groucho. I<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>know this because he’s the reason I watched
it, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful. (on DVD from VAI)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">3
and a half stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mikado </i>was originally broadcast in
color, but sadly, no color copies exist today. There are also times,
particularly during a few musical numbers, when the audio is not clear. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-50443278613014364092022-03-13T08:15:00.002-07:002022-03-13T08:15:20.042-07:00Miscellaneous Musings<div style="text-align: left;"><o:p>March 13, 2022</o:p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><o:p><br /></o:p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">On a Short Cut Too
Often Taken</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br /></b><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLPL3__FK_Fc1Hk5r-Hc8gcl3H64zBy7WQEyioQDSSTyGuDoxFGgDRC9vOewWiq0-Ol2_PQIRNITjwsdk3_vcno38_nnJ8VW8bJs_CCr1_b3ahpcQzKUY8Man1CNOFL2Dp6H9s5vSAPcG414uV_oA5pDBFRT69LYspdCJZnaVapXB9QjGSN7RucY9t=s273" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="184" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLPL3__FK_Fc1Hk5r-Hc8gcl3H64zBy7WQEyioQDSSTyGuDoxFGgDRC9vOewWiq0-Ol2_PQIRNITjwsdk3_vcno38_nnJ8VW8bJs_CCr1_b3ahpcQzKUY8Man1CNOFL2Dp6H9s5vSAPcG414uV_oA5pDBFRT69LYspdCJZnaVapXB9QjGSN7RucY9t=w184-h284" width="184" /></a></div></span>I have a hunch that at some point during a professional
screenwriting seminar, the host gives aspiring screenwriters the following tip:
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Make one of your characters rich</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Or, at the very least,</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">make your protagonist come in contact with
someone rich</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Otherwise, you’ll have
a hard time convincing the audience that he can dash off to the airport on a
whim and pay full price for a plane ticket to Paris</i>, a la Jack Nicolson’s
character in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Something’s Gotta Give</i>. And
if such a character doesn’t fit the narrative, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just make a hefty expenditure a symbol of the character’s devotion to
his profession</i>. This explains why a high school teacher can have 30 copies
of a $25 book sitting in his car just waiting for a physical confrontation to
justify his extravagant purchase or why a member of a CSI team can suddenly announce
that he not only ordered and personally paid for a forensic device only available
in the U.K. (imagine the shipping and handling on that!) but also just happens
to have it on hand when only it can solve a crime. Heroes, you see, don’t let a
little thing like money or debt stand in their way.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>And speaking of heroes, it’s a good thing that Tony Stark
is a billionaire because otherwise we’d watch the Iron Man and Avengers films
and wonder just how one person was funding the whole operation. After all, the
Avengers need a not-so-secret headquarters, advanced aerial transportation, state
of the art costumes, devices that create an unlimited supply of arrows (until
the plot calls for them to run out, that is), a constant supply of impenetrable
shields, high-tech motor vehicles that can withstand falls from planes, nifty utility
belts, and communication devices so small that it looks as if the Avengers are talking
to themselves. Oh, and an army of remote-controlled Iron Man suits that Stark
has no “financial” problem blowing up as a gesture of his love for Pepper Pott.
I mean, really, that’s one rich dude. And yet, according to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Falcon and the Winter Soldier</i>, he
didn’t pay Sam a monthly salary. Go figure.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>But let us leave the magical realms of comic book
universes and return to depictions of life that are meant to better reflect the
world in which we live, and by this I mean that emotion-filled world inhabited
by Charlie and Nicole Barber. Charlie, for those of you who haven’t seen Noah
Baumbach’s<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Marriage Story</i>, is a
genius theatrical director, and Nicole, his theatrical muse and wife. In the
film’s opening scene, we learn the two are in counseling ostensibly to save
their marriage, yet it is soon abundantly clear that the best they can hope for
is a cordial dissolution and a nice distance from each other. The two live in
New York and have a son together, and yes, he will soon become the catalyst for
a rather bitter custody battle.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>Now if you’ve ever gone through a divorce – and I have -
you know how painful and ugly one can become, especially when property, money,
and children are involved. Many couples start off thinking they can keep things
civil, and a few manage to. For others, divorce and custody battles carry with
them the specter of financial ruin, especially if lawyers become involved, and there
are countless examples of women and single mothers whose standard of living
fell considerably after a separation. In fact, Hollywood used to tell their
stories. Silent films, as well as films from late 1920’s and 1930’s, told tales
of wronged women, of children abandoned or orphaned, of characters so poor that
they became victims of a society eager to take advantage of the downtrodden. It
hardly does anymore.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>More often than not, Hollywood gives us films like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Marriage Story</i>, stories in which money
is just a minor inconvenience and large expenses turn out not to be so
burdensome after all. For much of the first half of the film, Charlie is aghast
at just how expensive it is to fly to Los Angeles and back after Nicole moves
there to shoot a television pilot. (She gets the part, of course, thereby
removing any thoughts you might have about just how expensive it would be to
live there.) He even remarks to a lawyer that he can’t afford his services. Ah,
but before you start worrying that he’ll lose custody of his son, know this.
Charlie has been awarded over $600,000 because of his artistic intellect. Now,
the film goes through the motions of having him declare his intention to use
the money to support his Broadway-bound production, but when you have half a
million dollars at your disposal, you sort of lose the argument that you can’t
afford airfare, especially if you purchase tickets well in advance.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>The film introduces a “cheaper” lawyer, only for Charlie
to cut him a check for $25,000 and fire him for being “too nice.” We hear that
his Broadway show closed and that with his hectic travel schedule, he “had” to
accept a job directing a few local productions. He clearly feels this is
beneath him, but for most people in his situation, a job is a necessity, not a
luxury that they can badmouth. And then he hires the high-priced lawyer he earlier
deemed too expensive, rents a house in Los Angeles, and directs a local
production and that’s the last we ever hear of money being an issue. As for
Nicole, her repertoire expands to directing, and as her fame grows, all talk of
how she’ll pay for her own high-priced attorney evaporates. In the end, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Marriage Story</i> is a movie about two
financially-secure people engaged in a custody fight, and, as ugly as that
fight becomes, the kid will be fine regardless of which of his parents he ends
up living with.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>In other words, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Marriage
Story </i>pays lip service to the real-world effects that its subject matter
has on average folks. Tell the average person that he’ll have to fly to the
other end of the country to see his son, and witness the panic that creates.
Tell the average person that decent legal representation will set her back $100,000,
and take a guess whether she’ll return later to hire his services. How many
average people have the luxury of a television salary or monetary award to fall
back upon? I’m guessing not many. I get it, though. Screenwriters write about
what they know, and successful directors know successful actors, some of whom
go through divorces. With <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Marriage Story</i>,
Baumbach has told one of their stories, and in truth, he’s told it well. It
just isn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">our </i>story, and the sad
thing is that this is likely by design. Even sadder, it’s not likely to change.
After all, which would you rather see, Nicolson and Keaton kissing in front of
the Eiffel Tower, destined for happily ever after, or Nicolson sitting alone
lamenting, “If only I’d had the money!” For Hollywood, it’s a no-brainer.<br /></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing" style="tab-stops: 425.35pt;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-30917100479739649942022-02-04T08:13:00.004-08:002022-02-04T08:13:55.139-08:00Review - The Young Lions<div style="text-align: left;">February 4, 2022<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Young Lions</i>
– U.S., 1958<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAw8DpkXBfFyEVh9nwZYtL8paRCS-k1Ly0b3JMAREn7oM2aZ5RjpHuE-tcxPDCK6USdO7zsVf9sTGbueztODISUamNKSmaCXq6OwbOX5xX41Ac7VS5vM0hADQwle4uK0H6IttDGVyIeG15YbUmt2uUNIlN782bF-YYztwGMb35yUW0xMwNOFONDyig=s278" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="181" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhAw8DpkXBfFyEVh9nwZYtL8paRCS-k1Ly0b3JMAREn7oM2aZ5RjpHuE-tcxPDCK6USdO7zsVf9sTGbueztODISUamNKSmaCXq6OwbOX5xX41Ac7VS5vM0hADQwle4uK0H6IttDGVyIeG15YbUmt2uUNIlN782bF-YYztwGMb35yUW0xMwNOFONDyig=w181-h316" width="181" /></a></div><br />I’ve seen two versions of Edward Dmytryk’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Young Lions</i> in the last two days. Now,
those of you who know the film may find yourself puzzled by the existence of a
second version, and, in truth, I found myself pondering this same question. But
then again, it also made perfect sense. After all, I had prepared myself for a
film of epic length, but the end came after just 102 minutes. Perhaps more
telling was the rather clumsy way in which the film had been edited. Scenes had
concluded even though it seemed characters had more they were going to say, and
on occasion characters referred to events that had supposedly happened earlier
in the film, but which I was hearing about for the first time. And then there’s
this: with the exception of a half-second view of the survivors of a Nazi
Concentration Camp, there were no clearly distinguishable references to the
Holocaust. Rather strange for a film that is partially about a German soldier
becoming disillusioned with Hitler and his justifications for war. Had I
reviewed the film immediately after seeing this version, it would likely have
received a star and a half. Thank goodness for those extra sixty minutes.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Young Lions</i>
tells the story of three men: Christian Diestl (Marlon Brando), a young man
rather fed up with a social system that places limits on him simply because of
the class he was born into; Noah Ackerman (Montgomery Clift), a shy young Jewish
man who, like Christian, is poor and faces discrimination; and finally Michael
Whiteacre (Dean Martin), a Broadway entertainer trying his best to avoid being
anywhere remote close to the fighting in Europe. The film intersperses Christian’s
and Noah’s stories, giving viewers a rather moving view of the changes that war
can force upon individuals and, in the process, reminding us that wars can make
and break people simultaneously.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>The film is at its best when it focuses on the characters’
emotional journeys. In Christian, we get a picture of an idealistic young man
clinging to principles during a war in which few people at the top had any. In
an early scene, we see him take prisoners without once firing his gun, and when
he tells a French mother whose teenage son has just been arrested that nothing
bad will happen to him, we believe that he believes<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>that. As for Noah, his path is not nearly as smooth. After a very awkward
introduction, which depicts him as being unaware of the opposite sex and utterly
aloof at a party, he proceeds to belittle New York (as a way of impressing a
young lady), sit in almost complete silence on a subway, say the bare minimum
to the woman he’s seeing home, and then confess his love for the young lady
even though he just met her a few hours earlier. (Yes, it’s that odd.)<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>Thankfully, his storyline picks up after he and Michael
start boot camp. There, we begin to see the characteristics that will serve
Noah well – determination, diligence, and fearlessness, even when the odds are
stacked against him. Later events only serve to strengthen his resolve to stand
up against bullies. At the same time, Christian is learning some hard lessons
of his own. Not everyone, it appears, is interested in fighting a war in a
dignified fashion, and that includes his commanding officer, played with fire
and fury by future Oscar-winner Maximilian Schnell.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Sadly, one of the main weaknesses of the script is the
character of Michael, for what often happens when a film has too many
characters is that the one that receives less screen time seems superfluous. And
that is indeed what happens with Michael. The character is relegated to a few
scenes in which he and his girlfriend argue over the war and Michael’s
disinterest in fighting it. However, we never get a sense of where his
hesitancy comes from or just how deeply it affects him. Of course, cinematic
cowards don’t often stay that way, and this is understandable. Audiences want
to cheer a character’s discovery of their courage. However, unlike Christian
and Noah, Michael gets little time to convey his turnaround. He literally goes
from saying, “I am a coward” to running toward gunfire, and to make matters
even worse, we don’t even see Michael’s expression when he decides to risk it
all. It cheapens what should be a pivotal moment in the film.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>And then there’s the matter of age. Brando was 34 when he
made the film, but his mature, yet youthful look makes his character’s naïve
and optimistic view of Hitler and the Nazi Party believable. In an early scene,
he relates his reasons for supporting the present government, and they are less
about hatred and greed than economics and opportunity. Clift, on the other
hand, was 38 and looked older, a fact that makes Noah’s strange comments and
awkward mannerisms more off-putting than romantic. I found it hard to believe
that his love interest, Hope Lang (well-played by Hope Plowman), would have given him a second
date, much less married him in what seems like a month or two. Ms. Plowman’s
age only adds to the discomfort - she was just 24 in 1958, and when she stands
next to Clift, you can’t help thinking that one of their characters should have
been played by someone closer to the other’s age. Then there’s Martin, a
tremendously gifted performer and actor, but one who was 41 when the film was
released. Truthfully, he looked a bit older, and I couldn’t help wondering if
the army would really have drafted someone in his situation.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>In the end, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Young Lions</i> is only moderately successful. It has two terrific stories, yet
saddles one of them with a terrible introduction, while containing a third that
never feels complete. It also has too many instances of female characters whose
sole purpose seems to be to put an idea into Christian’s head and then to wait
around for him to return and resume a romance based on a single encounter. One
of these characters is a French woman who confesses a concern about having her
head shaved for cavorting with a German. Well, she cavorts, but all of her
concerns – based on real incidents, by the way – are never mentioned again. And
then there’s the ending, which involves a speech about how the future belongs
to good, decent people, a shooting of a good, decent person, and a quick cut to
one character returning home triumphantly. It all happens so suddenly that it
is not clear whether we are supposed to cheer the safe return of the soldier or
reflect that the world is worse off for the loss. (on DVD and Blu-ray)<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">3 stars</div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-48639549520722716102022-01-28T07:08:00.000-08:002022-01-28T07:08:25.111-08:00Review - Dragon Seed<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">January
28, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dragon Seed</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – U.S., 1944<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEhpB43cK7BOCf7stR-IFW4G2x_L2NgfYpk5QHfN1nSFGvD1mAZRDxzpXRvN-JOc2xJFZSoyR_knypYbgBszC7JpDy_TfVCRwr0SGLEEaA5y5IucdNsGYb7SYzHYnhXWZZwsp886_KbhBAE30AqGy7QEwKQ9eI4LcaBNvR0G5FjbaNsmufsEVsC0At=s255" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="255" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEhpB43cK7BOCf7stR-IFW4G2x_L2NgfYpk5QHfN1nSFGvD1mAZRDxzpXRvN-JOc2xJFZSoyR_knypYbgBszC7JpDy_TfVCRwr0SGLEEaA5y5IucdNsGYb7SYzHYnhXWZZwsp886_KbhBAE30AqGy7QEwKQ9eI4LcaBNvR0G5FjbaNsmufsEVsC0At=w188-h247" width="188" /></a></div><br />Let’s
be honest. There was absolutely no possibility that Harold C. Bacquet and Jack
Conway’s 1944 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i> was
ever going to have a more authentic cast. World War II was in its third year,
the Japanese Internment Camps were in operation, and there was a belief that
audiences simply would not go to see a movie starring Asian-American actors and
actresses. We’ll never know if this was accurate. However, we do know that
there was an interest in films about Asian characters. Seven years earlier, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Good Earth</i> had won awards, and in
the years that followed, audiences would flock to films such as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sayonara</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love Is a Many Splendid Thing</i>, the Charlie Chan movies, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">China Doll</i> and a bit later the films of
Bruce Lee. Many of these films even had Asian and Asian-American actresses in
lead and supporting roles. So, there has been some progress at least.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">However,
in 1944, what we were likely to get was a film about Asians that starred
Caucasians or “exotic-looking” actors and actresses, and that is what we get in
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i>. Make no mistake about it
- the film has an impressive cast. In the lead roles, we have Walter Huston
(Caucasian Canadian), Aline MacMahon (Scottish-Irish and Russian-Jewish), and Katherine
Hepburn (Caucasian American). The supporting roles are played by Akim Tamiroff
(Armenian) and Turhan Bey (Turkish and Czechoslovakian-Jewish), as well as Hurd
Hatfield, Agnes Moorehead, Frances Rafferty, and Jacqueline deWit. All in all,
a pretty inauthentic cast, if you ask me.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
yet, here’s the thing. If you can look past the fact that few members of the
cast look or sound the part (some even resort to slowing down their speech to
sound “Chinese”) and instead focus on what the characters are actually saying
and doing, I think you’ll be in for a surprise. It turns out that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i> is a pretty gripping film.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like
many great American films, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i>
is about a family dealing with changing times. The film is set in 1937, and
this is significant, for it means that the family’s four children – 3 boys and
a girl – were likely born in the aftermath of the Chinese Revolution of 1911. This
is significant because revolutions tend to bring about both social change, as
well as changes in the mindset of youngsters, especially women. This is
certainly evidence in the film. In addition, 1937 brings the looming threat of
a Japanese invasion. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At
the heart of the film are Ling Tan (Huston) and his wife (MacMahon), and one of
the beautiful aspects of the film is their relationship. While we are never
told whether theirs was an arranged marriage (I suspect it was), we quickly see
that there is a deep connection between them. In an early scene, Ling Tan is
working in the field when his wife calls his name. He utters something about
not listening to women until after sundown, yet soon drops what he is doing and
goes to her. After explaining that she is worried about his health, she
suggests that he help her pluck some chickens instead. With a mixture of
frustration and playfulness, he responds, “That is woman’s work,” but then
assist her anyway. And there, in a nutshell, is their relationship – still
rooted in old-fashioned beliefs about the roles of men and women, but also
caring and tender. Throughout the film, they talk to each other truthfully and with
their hearts, and one of them usually ends up in the other’s arms.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">They
own a sizable farm, which they run with the help of their three sons and one of
their daughters-in-law. I say one because the other, Jade (Hepburn), always
seems to be absent and distant emotionally. In one scene, her husband, Lao Er
(Bey) describes her as “mine, and yet… not mine,” and her non-conformity to traditional
norms is viewed as something hideous that must be stamped out. To this end, the
family offers some rather telling solutions. Make her wait, one brother says.
Another member advises what can only be described as physical violence, and
while this advice is never acted upon, the suggestion is nevertheless alarming.
So too are several other comments in which domestic violence is presented as
both a kind of necessary evil.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">One
day, Lao Er cannot find Jade, so he goes to center of town, half expecting to find
her in the arms of the man she could have married. Instead, she is listening to
a speech detailing the need to stand up to Japanese aggression. It is a call to
arms that only she appears willing to answer. In a later scene, her
father-in-law insists there’s no need for alarm. Peace, he reasons, has always
been present in the land, and it will continue to reign. If only history had
heeded his words.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
movie follows these two parallel tracks – modernity on the one hand and war on
the other. Scenes in which Lao Er and Jade seek to further develop their
relationship are followed by ones in which the war intrudes. For example, in
one rather sweet scene, Jade expresses her desire for a book, and Lao Er,
though unsure he can truly be progressive, readily agrees to get one for her.
Soon afterwards, we witness Lao Er’s uncle’s shop being looted and his products
thrown into a raging bonfire. His crime: selling Japanese goods. These two
storylines eventually converge in a scene that starts with Jade announcing her
pregnancy moments before Japanese planes appear in the sky and start dropping
bombs. The war has come, and with it undeniable cruelty.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
question <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i> ultimately asks
is whether goodness can survive such adversity, whether we can preserve our
values and hopes while witnessing a string of shocking atrocities. The answer
comes in the form of a patriotic and slightly propagandist monologue that is
simultaneously inspiring and naïve. It is delivered by Jade and reflects the long-held
hope that war can be so horrifying that it snaps society out of its propensity
to hate and brutalize those we either fear or loathe for having the audacity to
be different from us. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If only we defeat
this enemy or that enemy, then all will be right again</i>. It is a lie we tell
ourselves to preserve our own sanity, for believing otherwise would mean
accepting the unacceptable.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dragon Seed </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">was written by
Pearl S. Buck, and unlike <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Good Earth</i>,
it is completely fictional. Buck left China in 1934 and appears not to have
returned. I suspect that her books are not very well read these days, but they
were incredibly influential at the time, introducing Western audiences to
sympathetic Chinese characters and demonstrating that they weren’t all that
different from themselves. This translated into increased public support for
China during the war and likely led to more understanding of the
Chinese-American community, as well as refugees from China, some of whom
eventually settled in the United States. The movie adaptations of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Good Earth</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i> can only have contributed to this development.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">These
days, the film is viewed as “problematic” due to its cast, its references to
abuse, and its rather one-note Japanese characters. This is a shame, for this
is not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Breakfast at Tiffany’s </i>or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sixteen Candles</i>, movies whose
Asian-American characters were created solely for the purpose of being comic
fodder. This is a serious, sweet, and tragic film about a horrendous time in
history. Its characters are complex with each having a realistic arc and each
committing believable actions. Jade and Lao Er’s romance rings true despite the
studio’s apparent unwillingness to allow their characters’ lips to actually
touch, and there is both a bond and a complexity to each of the other
relationships. These indeed were times that tested men’s souls, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i> doesn’t shy away from that.
I can only hope that we don’t shy away from films like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dragon Seed</i> simply because of what we wish they had been. (on DVD)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">4
stars</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-863232711807818872022-01-08T09:20:00.000-08:002022-01-08T09:20:00.595-08:00Review - The Story of Temple Drake <div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">January
8, 2022<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Story of
Temple Drake</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
– U.S., 1933<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjibF21xxnYFCnu8GXK93UHKCqUBDgStJJLZndVAanWW0KrU-76KmjXQR0dRWfOspstvg4FkdyTyNaL1zLAZfnclQOFhhtzsAUcf3fop1x4qsag8dVTr7C0Qqx7toU2MZiOtDkljVe_DIy4i6lgeAwkSz3kYtXH6RTStILz7FEj4OGpXKCIquq7KY82=s251" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="200" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjibF21xxnYFCnu8GXK93UHKCqUBDgStJJLZndVAanWW0KrU-76KmjXQR0dRWfOspstvg4FkdyTyNaL1zLAZfnclQOFhhtzsAUcf3fop1x4qsag8dVTr7C0Qqx7toU2MZiOtDkljVe_DIy4i6lgeAwkSz3kYtXH6RTStILz7FEj4OGpXKCIquq7KY82=w168-h247" width="168" /></a></div><br />I
have read William Faulkner’s 1931 novel <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sanctuary</i>,
and, if you’ll pardon my frankness, Stephen Roberts’s 1933 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Story of Temple Drake</i> is not it. In
fairness, how could it be? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sanctuary</i>
is replete with truly sadistic behavior and moral depravity and features a villain
so hideous that few modern directors not named David Lynch would even dream of
putting him up on the silver screen. Interestingly, Faulkner needed 336 pages
to tell his story; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Story of Temple
Drake</i> clocks in at just over 72 minutes. Suffice to say, much of what
rightly made the novel controversial remained unfilmed. In fact, gone are much
of the details that elevated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sanctuary</i>
to the thrillingly wicked experience it is, transforming it into a relatively decent
yarn about a young independent woman growing up in a time of great social
change and ultimately finding her voice. The film works, even if it never
completely sheds its watered-down impression.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Like
many films during what it now referred to as the Pre-code Hollywood era, a term
that was invented after the fact, its protagonist is a young woman coming into
her own. This includes adopting a rather liberal attitude toward dating and
physical affection, yet still adhering to the social norms of the time, meaning
that the date next extends beyond the front door. In keeping with the modern
spirit, Temple (Miriam Hopkins) has no interest in getting married, this
despite the frequent proposals she receives from a young lawyer named Stephen
Benbow (William Gargan). The two of them have an interesting exchange about
this. She reasons that she likes him too much; his response: “And love me too
little.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Too little</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to give up your youthful ways</i>, perhaps?<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">At
a party, Temple runs off with one of her suitors, and since he’s driving completely
plastered, the two of them end up lying on a dirt road, having been thrown from
her now overturned car. And who should come to her aid? Trigger (Jack La Rue), a
tall menacing bootlegger with a cigarette constantly dangling from his lips and
a look on his face that never lets you relax for even a minute. (His name is
Popeye in Faulkner’s novel) It’s wonder Temple initially refuses his offer for
shelter.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film offers a rather discomforting contrast in two sets of characters. First,
there are the characters from the city – well-dressed, well-spoken, and
generally polite - and then there’s the group that hangs around Trigger. They
are clearly from the countryside, and the film depicts them as either cold,
simple-minded, or predatory. Two of them even advance toward Temple with
obvious forced physical contact in mind. Even the character who offers Temple
what she believes is protection is more than a little suspicious of her and
even warns her to stay away from her husband. Unfortunately, there’s no real
protection from a man like Trigger.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Following
Temple’s assault, Faulkner’s novel becomes more complicated, culminating in more
sadistic events and a clear case of Stockholm Syndrome. And I’ll be honest. I
was riveted throughout. The problem with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Story of Temple Drake</i> is that, by jettisoning the book’s most salacious
details and changing a key aspect of a court scene, there’s not much there.
Perhaps that’s why the final half an hour feels so rushed. Earlier characters
are forgotten or marginalized, and as the film approaches its inevitable
courtroom conclusion, it acquires a predictable feel partly because we already
know everything that is going to be said by that final witness. The scene is
still powerful, but since the end result is exactly what we expected it to be, it
is a lesser power, the kind you experience because of the work of the
performers, but one also that fades quickly because…well, you saw it coming a
mile away.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">There’s
a tendency to give a film like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Story
of Temple Drake</i> more credit than it deserves simple because of the time in
which it was made. We seem to think that old movies were depictions of good men
and traditional women, innocent pictures made during innocent times. In truth,
there were no purely innocent times, and many of the movies made before 1935,
when the Hayes Code began to be enforced, pushed boundaries with their
depictions of a society that were closer to reality than many people cared to
admit. It was easier to blame movies for setting the example, rather than
seeing them as a response to changes already underway. The fact that Roberts’s
film completely disappeared for more than twenty years only increases our
desire to praise it.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">However,
time also has a way of making blemishes more apparent, and there’s no question
that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Story of Temple Drake</i> has a
problematic set of characters and a message that could be interpreted as
reinforcing the need for marriage and moral behavior if for no other reason
than to save women from the consequences that can come from adopting a modern
lifestyle. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but it is at odds with
Temple Drake’s story, causing it to seem that she is at fault for her own
misery. And maybe this was the intent. After all, the original title of the
movie was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Shame of Temple Drake</i>.
(on DVD and Blu-ray from Criterion Collection)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
stars </span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-52832704755784362652021-12-17T20:27:00.001-08:002021-12-17T20:27:39.966-08:00Review - Tomorrow's Children<div style="text-align: left;"> <br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">December
18, 2021<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tomorrow’s
Children</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
– U.S., 1934<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiu2kv_E1lMnpWXgGdEFeymRo5U_R0ImUgvGJDGClRFF2A9VZEUHAY353zKQJC9DOSXFF2-pRTBYeJLjrsVP6z7VW40gvIqNLFVBPTMznvjoclIAIZnz5VxuPmGVLKvD88GUhtl14ixGaMTjsvWXZV0h8KvOGyIacx8s_YJQKqfvhrteLA4uV_ZsIrK=s306" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="165" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiu2kv_E1lMnpWXgGdEFeymRo5U_R0ImUgvGJDGClRFF2A9VZEUHAY353zKQJC9DOSXFF2-pRTBYeJLjrsVP6z7VW40gvIqNLFVBPTMznvjoclIAIZnz5VxuPmGVLKvD88GUhtl14ixGaMTjsvWXZV0h8KvOGyIacx8s_YJQKqfvhrteLA4uV_ZsIrK=w187-h211" width="187" /></a></div><br />Wallace
Thurman’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tomorrow’s Children</i> is a
movie without a spine. It is a film that purports to be an exploration of the
morality of sterilization, and, to its credit, there are a number of
impassioned debates about the practice. However, images always trump emotional appeal,
and it seems awfully hard to make the case that you’re against something when
your visuals depict the worst possible examples as its supposed victims. Even Dr.
Brooks (nicely played by Donald Douglas), the hero of the film, says the death
of a newborn is a blessing in disguise. The deceased’s mother, you see, would
have been poor, and her siblings would have been “feeble-minded” and physically
challenged. You know what they say about friends like these.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film begins with a newspaper headline heralding Hitler’s endorsement of
sterilization for the “unfit.” Around 400,000 “undesirables” would go on to be
sterilized from 1933 – 1945, an act now recognized as a form of genocide. However,
before you say the film is putting American supporters of eugenics and
sterilization in the same camp as a mass murderer, remember that the film was
made in 1934, and it is doubtful that its creators had any hint of the horror that
Hitler and negative eugenics would inflict. And eugenics has plenty of
supporters on this side of the Atlantic. The newspaper could just as easily
have been referencing a quote by Theodore Roosevelt, Alexander Graham Bell, or John
D. Rockefeller Jr.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We’re
then privy to the rather forced conversations of three diverse groups on – you
guessed it – sterilization. First, two government officials seem open to the
practice, then a women’s group seems to be opposed, but admits the need for
more information. Only an Irish-American priest stands firmly in opposition,
arguing that it is an affront to religion, a sentiment that matches the imagery
used in the film’s opening credits - sunlight breaking through a series of dark
clouds. We are then transported into a hospital where, once again,
sterilization is the topic of the day. Interestingly, most of the voices from
the medical profession are in favor of the practice, partly due to their
apparent disgust of their less economically advantaged patients. Again, with
friends like these…<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Consider
this. The film’s idea of an unbiased look at the topic is to focus viewers on a
poor family with children either in jail, infirmed, or mentally-challenged. This
is the family whose dead newborn is spoken of so callously, and the deceased’s parents
are either too greedy or indifferent to care about her. Later, we see a parade
of those the state intends to put under the knife, and there’re hardly people
designed to sway public opinion against the procedure. There’s a criminal who’s
offered a shorter sentence in exchange for consenting to the operation; a violent,
lecherous young man who, just before his court hearing, rips off the clothes of
his nurse; and a man who stares into space and appears to not know what planet
he’s on. Hardly anyone raises an objection to their sterilization, but mention
it in relation to a healthy, hard-working seventeen-year-old girl, and that’s
another situation entirely.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
young lady in question is Alice Mason (Diane Sinclair), daughter of the
aforementioned couple with the “problematic” genes. She is presented as the
outlier, the good apple in a batch of otherwise bad ones. She supports the
family financially, has a decent hardworking boyfriend (Carlyle Moore Jr.) who
wants to marry her, and is genuinely sweet. She returns home one night to find
two strangers in her home, both government employees, and is informed that her
parents have given their consent for the entire family to be sterilized. Alice quietly
gives them the slip and goes on the lam. Eventually, she’ll turn to Dr. Brooks
for assistance.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film has a number of interesting moments. A scene in which a pro-sterilization
judge callously denies the appeals of patient after patient is well done, showing
how stacked the deck is against those who cannot afford the best legal
representation. There’s also a pleasant scene in which Dr. Brooks visits the
Mason family, and the way he speaks establishes the care and concern he has for
children whose only fault is that they inherited defective genes. Also, the
scenes involving Alice and her boyfriend successfully establish how deeply
their bond goes and draw us to their side. There are also a number of scenes in
which we get a good sense of the coldness with which those enforcing
sterilization laws interact with those whose hopes of a family they wish to
squash.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Had
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tomorrow’s Children</i> focused
exclusively on Ms. Mason’s plight, it would have been a much stronger film,
addressing questions of whether someone entirely healthy on the outside should
be punished for what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">may</i> exist on the
inside. Instead, it tries to play both sides, showing the “problems” that
sterilization can solve, while seeming arguing that it is only really a crime
when someone nice and attractive becomes its target. Dr. Brooks, the supposed
voice of enlightenment, goes from staunchly opposing sterilization to only
really put up a fight when Alice is at risk, a fact that makes his stance
against the practice one of convenience rather than true conviction. After all,
if something is morally and ethically wrong, it is wrong in all cases, not just
the ones that can easily elicit sympathy.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead,
we get a cop-out final act that removes all pretense of the filmmaker’s intent.
This is not a film about the consequences of sterilization or a serious
exploration of the pros and cons of its implementation. Instead, it is a film
that uses the topic to punch down at a population unable to fight back, and its
hero, despite his sermonizing and his action-film inspired mad dash to save
Alice’s womanhood, is ultimately a champion of one. In the end, we are meant to
rejoice: the pretty girl can have her baby, and society is rid of tomorrow’s
problems. We can go home happy, right? (on DVD and Blu-ray from Kino)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">2
and a half stars</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-41186447426291195172021-12-11T07:40:00.006-08:002021-12-11T07:40:42.929-08:00Review - The City Without Jews<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">December
10, 2021<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The City Without
Jews</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
– Austria, 1924<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZy490JAFnoV1APWzGAWm6cFSx_x8GLUFlOTwbHLuIAY559tM3w35S7o340AWMjnOBmeEh9INjoHr5Dq3qPJuOhpricajyWLRZMEchjgITNdpeVfZ2HdZR2ZEIAqbhYS_loKLRv25qJOnO6LELvAmZ5_4m_8a5VZlfQT5THM1veVQ9Tj-wBmghQ9-j=s273" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="273" data-original-width="185" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZy490JAFnoV1APWzGAWm6cFSx_x8GLUFlOTwbHLuIAY559tM3w35S7o340AWMjnOBmeEh9INjoHr5Dq3qPJuOhpricajyWLRZMEchjgITNdpeVfZ2HdZR2ZEIAqbhYS_loKLRv25qJOnO6LELvAmZ5_4m_8a5VZlfQT5THM1veVQ9Tj-wBmghQ9-j=w162-h226" width="162" /></a></div><br />It
is nearly impossible to watch H.K. Breslauer’s 1924 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The City Without Jews</i> without seeing it as prophetic, and yet,
perhaps the best way to view it is as a lens into the minds of Austrians circa
1920. The First World War had economically devastated Austria-Hungary and left
it in a state of disarray. While the economy improved in the early 1920s,
partly due to economic aid from Western nations, inflation brought the real threat
of economic collapse. Society was fractured, and there were even fears of a civil
war. It is not uncommon in situations such as this for some people to look for
a scapegoat for their woes, and sadly it is usually foreigners that are cast in
that role. In fact, it had already happened in Austria – in 1669, Austria had
expelled all Jews. Amazingly, this policy lasted for almost 200 years.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Breslauer
and author Maximillian Hugo Bettauer must have sensed something was in the air,
something that was separating society into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">us
</i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> them</i>, and been alarmed by it.
Their film, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The City Without Jews</i>,
was a warning of the direction society was heading in and a desperate plea for
an immediate reversal. It is telling, then, that it was the last film Breslauer
ever direction. Far more foreboding was the fate of Bettauer. In March 1925, he
was murdered by a Nazi sympathizer named Otto Rothstock. Rothstock was ultimately
found guilty, but it was by reason of insanity, and he was incarcerated for just
eighteen months. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to have done him any good. According to
his Wikipedia page, in a 1977 interview on Austrian TV, he actually boasted of
Bettauer’s “extinction.”<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The City Without
Jews</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
cuts right to the chase. It begins with picket signs and demonstrations and
soon jumps to a series of disparate scenes in which we get a good sense of the
desperation experienced by working class and of the utter indifference of the
upper class. Scenes of social revelry are interspersed with ones in which
shoppers are shocked at how much more basic necessities cost today than
yesterday. The crowds swell so much that a handful of protesters breach the
building and march into the chamber where their elected leaders are meeting.
Their message: “It’s the Jews who are stealing our jobs.” The comment does not
go unnoticed by the Chancellor. Soon we see him standing in front of the
members of the government and proposing that all people of Jewish faith, including
baptized Jews and children of mixed marriages, be expelled. The proposal is met
with thunderous applause.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">What
follows are rather stunning images, as families take what little they can carry
and leave their lives behind. Trains filled with Jewish refugees leave the
station, refugees walk on foot along long dusty roads, their destination hardly
within walking distance. A family being separated by the law expresses their
farewells at a train station, and weary faces hint at the challenges and
uncertainty that lies ahead. It’s all very moving.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
yet at the same time, there is never a real sense of imminent danger. In fact,
these may be the politest anti-Semites you’ll ever see. The authorities never
physically mistreat or abuse anyone, and no one engages in xenophobic rhetoric
after they’re gone. As for the journey, it could have been worse. We don’t
witness anyone die from exhaustion or starvation along the way, and none of the
characters speak of mass casualties. When those that remain talk of the changed
atmosphere, their comments are mainly about the job opportunities and better
futures that will now be theirs. Understandable, especially given the thrust of
the film’s final act, but it undercuts the notion that those exiled were
targeted solely on the basis of their religion and perceived hoarding of wealth.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film does an excellent job of detailing the political calculations of many of
those in power, as well as the immediate ramifications of their actions,
including some who vote for the expulsion despite being in opposition to it.
There’s also mention of foreign influence, reminding viewers of some people’s
willingness to back other countries’ inhumane proposals. And then there are the
warnings, that those who cause inhumanity are rarely remembered fondly in
history. All of this works.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Where
the film slightly falters is in its third act. In reality, the Jewish
population eventually returned to Australia, so much so that by the time the
1930s rolled around, there were over 300,000 people of Jewish descent living
there. This fact is likely what drives the events of the film’s final act, and
in truth, it likely played well in 1924. After all, there’s nothing like a
happy ending. However, seen in light of the events of the Second World War, the
final act comes across as the naïve musings of two people who saw the signs,
but not the level of hatred that motivated them. This is not the fault of Breslauer
or Bettauer, of course, just as Chaplin is not to blame for the relatively
light treatment of the Nazi-inspired characters in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Great Dictator</i>. None of them knew how bad it would get. Still,
the traumatic experience of the Jewish characters in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The City Without Jews</i> is somewhat trivialized by the presence of
cheering crowds as the first Jewish resident returns.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In
the end, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The City Without Jews</i> was a
warning unheeded, yet it remains a powerful film. It sheds light on the
conditions that can lead people to turn against their friends and neighbors,
and it realistically depicts the international reaction to such acts and the
isolation they can bring. Sure, its finale is more reminiscent of a spy film
than a drama, but its action is at least in service of a noble cause. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The City Without Jews</i> is therefore a
form of agenda filmmaking, and the world would be a better place if we’d heeded
its warnings. (on DVD and Blu-ray from Flicker Alley)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
and a half stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The City Without Jews</i> is a silent film.</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-83683911376620513192021-11-19T08:44:00.000-08:002021-11-19T08:44:48.998-08:00Review - Black River<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">November
19, 2021<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Black River</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> – Japan, 1956<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFfYxZzqie0SLUElWac-7zQvm8ATbfrP-H9lEXyFPcc1I4KTfZTFpHpvRIZFxCMO-ED_CPMjFdQZ9vErhoeLHy7nSMV-lhJAnLxasbJz_zKmqq4wc83SSGx0HDnYYGb4Fb5ydfCeQPAk/s267/black+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="189" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAFfYxZzqie0SLUElWac-7zQvm8ATbfrP-H9lEXyFPcc1I4KTfZTFpHpvRIZFxCMO-ED_CPMjFdQZ9vErhoeLHy7nSMV-lhJAnLxasbJz_zKmqq4wc83SSGx0HDnYYGb4Fb5ydfCeQPAk/w129-h248/black+river.jpg" width="129" /></a></div><br />The
lively fast-paced sounds of jazz that greet the audience during the opening
credits of Masaki Kobayashi’s 1956 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black
River</i> are in sharp contrast to the oddly-shaped snippets of newspaper
articles that accompany it. Jazz is, after all, improvisational, an expression
of the here and now, while censorship is the result of a concerted effort by
the powerful to prevent the awareness of events occurring in real time. And
that may have been the point. Jazz had been introduced to Japan in the early
twentieth century during overseas trips to the United States and the
Philippines, then a U.S. territory, and in the 1920’s, jazz clubs could be
found in several of Japan’s biggest cities, a development that was not viewed
positively by the Japanese government. Nevertheless, it was really the arrival
of U.S. troops, with their appetite for entertainment and night life, that caused
jazz to flourish in Japan. Thus, jazz represented a double-edged sword, both
freedom of expression and a loss of sovereignty.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Black River</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> is set in a neglected
section of a Japan seemingly still reeling from the effects of World War II.
Its roads remain unpaved, and economic opportunities are sparse for anyone not
a gangster, pimp, or prostitute. We don’t see much of the U.S. forces, yet they
hang over every aspect of the film, not because they are furtively pulling the
strings, but because the motivation of so many people is the direct result of
their presence.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Into
this demoralized world steps a young university student named Nishida (Fumio
Watanabe). Early in the film, he rents a room in a run-down apartment operated
by a landlady who quite obviously has not spent a cent on repairs. (There is even
a hole in one of the walls of Nishida’s apartment, through which his neighbor’s
curious children occasionally peek through.) We meet the residents and watch as
they scatter to avoid paying rent, and even when confronted, each of them finds
a reason for not having the funds. It should be humorous, yet it isn’t.
Something about it seems ominous, as if portending an even darker truth.<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
also meet a young waitress named Shizuko (Inuko Arikma). She notices Nishida one
day when he is hauling a rather large cart of books, and the two strike up a
friendship that seems absolutely destined to become much more than that. I say
this because of two items: Nishida’s hat and Shizuko’s parasol. Such items are
usually innocuous, yet a close observation of the characters in the film
reveals just how rare these items are. The gangsters in the area have donned
western clothes, and judging from the appearance of the residents, many of them
have spent long grueling hours without any form of protection from the sun. If
that celestial body is meant to represent life, it has certainly taken its toll
on those it beats down on, the most noticeable casualty being their humanity.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Yet
there is Nishida donning a white bucket hat, symbolically dragging books into
post-World War II Japan even as few, if any, of his neighbors will ever read
them. And there’s Shizuko, the lone young woman walking under a parasol, metaphorically
shielding herself from the filth of corruption and the threat of violence. It
is telling that by the end of the film the hat is gone and the parasol abandoned.
Perhaps it is more significant that both items are casualties of the same
person, the head of a local gang known as “Joe the Killer” (Tatsuya Nakadai).<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
film does an excellent job of building Joe up as the embodiment of evil and
destructive impulses, yet it also makes clear the hypnotic hold he has on those
he encounters, in particular, Shizuko. What the film does not spend enough time
developing is the relationship between Nishida and Shizuko. They have just a
few scenes together before Joe comes between them, and while it is refreshing
to see the honesty with which these characters speak to each other and Arima
and Watanabe are skilled enough to make us believe these two characters are so
strongly connected, the power of these moments still feels somewhat unearned.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Prior
to making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black River</i>, Kobayashi had
tackled the fate of B and C-level criminals post-WW II in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Thick-Walled Room</i> and corruption in baseball in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Will Buy You</i>. Like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black River</i>,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>both of these film depict characters trying to maintain their morality
in an increasingly compromised world, and tellingly, none of them ends with
characters walking triumphantly into the sunset. In fact, of these three films,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black River </i>is the bleakest. In the
end, no one escapes either financial or personal ruin. Perhaps they never stood
a chance.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Movies
like this can be challenging because they require a knowledge of both culture
and history. They are easy to appreciate, but rather hard to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like</i>. I can imagine the ending credits
producing a sigh of relief, rather than applause or a feeling of good will, and
recommending the film feels a bit like advising people to have a root canal just
for the experience. However, films like these, as challenging as they are, are
the kind more people should watch. They resonate. They are both protests and
calls to arms. They are laments of a time that for too many remains a distant
memory. And, yes, they are prayers, meant for a public that may not have the time
or inclination to respond. Let’s change that. (on DVD as part of Eclipse’s box
set Masaki Kobayashi Against the System)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">3
and a half stars<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Red River </i>is in Japanese and English
with English subtitles.</span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-31731610408922655862021-10-30T10:03:00.005-07:002021-10-30T10:03:54.132-07:00Review - Brother Wang and Brother Liu Tour Taiwan <div style="text-align: left;">October 30, 2021<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brother Wang and
Brother Liu Tour Taiwan</i> – Taiwan, 1959<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp63wpLdvxMs3Cf4ISkCGnBtofz3CJh0IIClCqvCZBz81Kv9nnB_Q0Do1riMnujjGVc-ilaKOBWrRXTFoXiiW1wA3fKwRJjcvnblRvy9WItLBdxClefSSHFwpJ1gVyxaHIDLQgDDToto/s275/brother+wang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBp63wpLdvxMs3Cf4ISkCGnBtofz3CJh0IIClCqvCZBz81Kv9nnB_Q0Do1riMnujjGVc-ilaKOBWrRXTFoXiiW1wA3fKwRJjcvnblRvy9WItLBdxClefSSHFwpJ1gVyxaHIDLQgDDToto/w155-h181/brother+wang.jpg" width="155" /></a></div><br />I have seen a number of images of long lines snaking
around movies theaters in Taiwan during the 1950’s and 60’s, of stars walking
the proverbial red carpet as adoring fans make their feelings about their idols
perfectly clear, and of hundreds of joyful faces as the magic of film washes
over them. These are images of what many have said were the golden years of
Taiwanese cinema.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>However, never have
I seen any evidence that these audiences were for a film starring either Laurel
and Hardy or Abbott and Costello, yet the influence of these two comic pairings
on Lee Hsing’s 1959 film <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brother Wang and
Brother Liu Tour Taiwan</i> seems unmistakable.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>The names in the film’s moniker refer to a rather
heavy-set poor young man named Wang (Li Guan-chang) and his equally poor, much thinner
pedicab-driving roommate and best friend, Liu (Chang Fu-cai). Out of necessity,
the two share a bed in a dinky one-bedroom shack that likely doesn’t have a
kitchen or anything resembling indoor plumbing. It is in this setting that the
two of them discuss their plights and, in one humorous scene, continually utter
the only word that comes to mind, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alas</i>.
The beginning of the film clearly establishes their characters. Liu is the
harder working of the two, yet his efforts are often for naught. As for Wang,
he can never seem to get enough sleep. In an early scene, Liu drives him to the
spot where he shines shoes, only for him to plant his head against a column and
fall asleep standing up. His eyes don’t stay open for long at work either.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>These early moments contain attempts at comedy that were
not entirely fresh even in 1959. In one, Liu unsuccessfully attempts to transport
two overweight passengers; in another, Wang’s fellow shoeshines take advantage of
his narcoleptic tendencies and use shoe polish to make him look foolish. There’s
also a gag involving just how many plates of rice the two starving young men can
eat. Some of these hit just enough to be entertaining; some of them, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alas</i>, are well past their expiration
date.<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p>The film is more successful – at least initially – during
scenes in which Liu interacts with her girlfriend, Ah-Hua. In these scenes, Liu
moves beyond the stereotypical role of the lovable loser and acquires a certain
level of depth, and it shows during a tender scene in which Liu shows his
appreciation by purchasing Ah-Hua a pair of shoes. Ah-Hua is bubbly played by
Ke Yuxia, and her scenes with Liu have a tenderness to them that the film has a
hard time recreating when she is not on screen, which, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">alas</i>, occurs far too often. Fortunately, Li and Chang have a good
rapport onscreen, and when the material they’re given is halfway decent, as it
is in those early scenes, they are quite entertaining.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>One day, Wang and Liu meet a fortune teller who looks at
Wang through a rather large magnifying glass, a la Sherlock Holmes, and
proclaims that he’ll strike it rich in three days. To Liu, though, he delivers
more somber news – he only has 44 days to live. Incredulous laughter follows
these predictions, of course, but there’s Wang, three days later, suddenly rich
after winning the lottery. You can probably guess what Liu’s reaction is. The
solution, you ask? Well, let’s just say the title isn’t a red herring.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Thus begins a series of misadventures that more closely
resemble disparate half-hour television episodes than a continuous narrative.
There’s a running gag involving a briefcase that Liu carries everywhere and
which contains all of Wang’s money. It soon catches the eye of a mysterious
traveler. Later, in a much more problematic scene, the two are captured by a
group of Taiwanese aborigines and brought into separate huts, where two female tribal
leaders attempt to get our heroes to sleep with them – something you certainly
never saw in a Laurel and Hardy short. And then there are the gangsters Wang
and Liu encounter, a meeting which culminates in the two friends dressed in
drag and leading the gangsters on. To say the two men make unconvincing females
would be an understatement.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>Bookending these scenes are brief glimpses of some of Taiwan’s
tourist hot spots – destinations like Zhinan Temple, New Beitou, Fort Zeelandia,
and Sun Moon Lake – and when I say brief, I mean seconds long. In most of these
snippets, we don’t even see Wang and Liu, leaving the impression that the
director simply used stock images. Even more problematic is the fact that Wang
and Liu never discuss the places they visit or seem particularly affected by anything
they see. They don’t even have a reaction to a sign on a trail in Pingtung
instructing visitors to speak only Mandarin Chinese. Politically, this is
understandable, as Taiwan was in its first decade of martial law. Narratively,
though, it stretches credibility.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>I mentioned earlier the impact that teams like Laurel and
Hardy appear to have had on the film. However, it does not appear that Lee
Hsing and screenwriter Tung Hsiao truly understood what made many of those
early comedy teams so great. First, Laurel and Hardy were never slackers – they
had dreams and worked hard, even if they were rarely successful. Then there’s
the innocent, boyish excitement they exhibited when a young lady looked in
their direction – that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aw shucks</i>
smile that came across Laurel’s face and the way Hardy shyly fumbled with his
tie. While Liu has some of Laurel’s charm, little of Hardy’s innocence comes
through in Wang’s mannerisms. And then there are the character’s steady personalities.
Laurel was always Laurel, and Hardy was always Hardy. However, in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brother Wang and Brother Liu Tour Taiwan</i>,
Wang starts out Hardy and ends up becoming Abbott; Liu starts out Laurel and transforms
into Costello. Seriously, can you imagine Laurel ever paying a woman to be able
to kiss her cheek, especially if he was engaged, and then getting the girl?<br /> <o:p> <br /></o:p><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brother Wang and Brother
Liu Tour Taiwan</i> is therefore a truly mixed bag. It does an ample job of
establishing its lead characters and putting them in situations that have both
dramatic and comic potential. However, it does not appear that anyone involved
in the film had any idea what to do with them, and so these initially likeable
characters inconsistently fumble from one “adventure” to another without ever
evolving or acknowledging the reason they took the trip in the first place. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Alas</i>,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
</i>they deserved better. (on DVD in Region 3)<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>2 stars<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>*<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brother Wang and Brother
Liu Tour Taiwan</i> is in Taiwanese with English subtitles.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>*I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brother Wang and Brother Liu Tour Taiwan</i>
has two parts. The first one ends rather abruptly (in the middle of a chase
scene, no less) when Liu and Wang appear onscreen and actually utter those
famous words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">to be continued</i>. According
to Wikipedia, the second part came out two weeks after the first.<br /><o:p> <br /></o:p>*The film also apparently spawned seven sequels. Go
figure.<br /></div><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNoSpacing"><o:p></o:p></p>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1967668128264081805.post-41216419855967435512021-10-18T07:25:00.002-07:002021-10-18T07:25:20.847-07:00Miscellaneous Musings<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">October 17, 2021<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">On a Misguided Debate with Troubling Implications<br /></span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84zZDQbc2QqqUO1q8ERFl4JV_nr3KvZAvHhdGSjg4CYyuN7Oppj28UVuNGN_OuiwhT3oI1X5WxWSpQTsOvwxDwLvf7tjRMnCO9Ae5Wg3ZuvpQ5IRerIJyBvjwO559i2duMyPi9vIggBE/s259/black+widow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84zZDQbc2QqqUO1q8ERFl4JV_nr3KvZAvHhdGSjg4CYyuN7Oppj28UVuNGN_OuiwhT3oI1X5WxWSpQTsOvwxDwLvf7tjRMnCO9Ae5Wg3ZuvpQ5IRerIJyBvjwO559i2duMyPi9vIggBE/w190-h211/black+widow.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><br />There have been worse
lines in the history of cinema, lines that simply don’t trickle off the tongue
as their creators envisioned them doing. For every remark that produces
spontaneous<i> aww</i>’s – think <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You complete me</i>
or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was like… magic</i> - there’s one
that elicits the sounds of crickets – erroneously intended moneymakers like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’ve been cancelled</i>. Most from the
latter category are quickly forgotten, as they should be, but every now and
then a line is disliked for entirely different reasons. Perhaps the critiquer
cannot fathom the line being said by that particular character or – as is the
case with some older youth-oriented movies – what was once a hip way of
speaking now seems absolutely antiquated.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The line making headlines
last month was from a less-than stellar sequel to a surprisingly (at the time
at least) popular film, and among the sentiments expressed in quotes that found
traction on the internet was this: that Natasha Romanoff is not a commodity.
This, I’m sure, produced no argument from any of the viewers of the Avengers
films, for having seen Ms. Romanoff single-handedly take out an armed security
detail, demonstrate her mastery of sophisticated computer programming, and
instinctively race toward danger with only her wits and combat skills to aid
her, it’s pretty clear that she’s nobody’s fool.<br /> </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The line is spoken by a
character who is hardly a champion of women’s rights, at least not at that
particular point in his evolution. This is a character after all that drives a
reporter from Las Vegas to Los Angeles, sleeps with her, and then has his
personal secretary throw her out. The flight attendants on his private jet pole
dance, and he has no qualms about flirting with his personal secretary despite
the utter inappropriateness of such remarks and the legal vulnerability it puts
him in. Sure, he eventually commits to her and the two of them ultimately have
a rather adorable daughter, but before all that, he takes one look at an
attractive new employee and controversially utters, “I want one.”<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">It should be noted that Tony
Stark is hardly the first character to express unpopular or neandrathal
sentiments. TV has had Fred Flintstone, Archie Bunker, Al Bundy, Andy Sipowitz,
Arnie Becker, and Vic Mackie; movies have bought us Melvin Udall, Jack Sparrow,
Borat, Nick Curran, and Stanley White among others. Few, if any, of these
characters have maintained their views for long, for sooner or later, someone –
a co-worker, fellow inmate, or love interest perhaps - comes along to steer
them in the right direction, and this is the case with Mr. Stark. Just compare
the man we see in the opening scenes of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Avengers:
Endgame </i>to the one we meet in the first Iron Man film. It’s night and day,
as if the way he reacts to Ms. Romanoff as the series progresses.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Those now proclaiming
their dismay about “I want one” know this. They’ve seen the movies – in some
cases, they’ve even helped write the scripts. So, why all the fuss? Part of it
likely stemmed from years of frustrating spent watching millions of dollars be
spent to create movies about male characters and wondering when Black Widow
would get her due. Another part is the real frustration some people feel about
the way female characters continue to be portrayed – from the existence of
“Bond girls” and the damsel in distress to the unfortunately standard action scene
in which a male character mocks the notion of a female character teaching him
how to defend himself, versions of which can be found in both <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ant-Man </i>and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Iron Man 2</i>. And then there were the demeaning comments made by a
few of the stars of the Avengers films at the height of the “Me Too” and Times
Up” movements, remarks which reminded people of a long-held double-standard in
both movies and society. After all, male characters have been switching
romantic partners regularly for decades, and rarely have they ever been called
out for it or referred to in derogatory terms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br />
</span></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">What surprises me most about
the controversy over “the line” is that few of the voices expressing outrage seem
to be disturbed by the most sexist moment in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Iron Man 2</i>. That occurs when Ms. Potts and Ms. Romanoff ascend the
stairs of the convention center where Justin Hammer is set to unveil his latest
military innovations. They should be suspicious about his motives and making
variations of the proverbial “keep your eyes open.” Instead, as they make their
journey up the stairs, we don’t hear them strategizing. No, instead the camera
fixates on their hips, as they sway from side to side, perfectly in synch. The
scene is nothing short of a voyeur’s delight, and to say that it serves
absolutely no narrative purpose would be an understatement. If anything made an
object out of Ms. Romanoff, it was that.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Instead, the focus was on
“I want one,” and there are disquieting implications to the controversy. It is
as if we are saying that it is wrong to create a politically incorrect or
immature character, that every male protagonist has to be Steve Rogers –
polite, decent, and chivalrous – even though gallantry has never been a genetic
trait. If you’re lucky, someone in your childhood demonstrates what it means to
be a gentleman; if you’re unfortunate, which young Tony Stark certainly is, you
grow up without this moral guidance. Throw money into the mix, and it is highly
likely you get a pampered adult who has never felt the need to re-evaluate the
inner voice that tells him how great he is and how privileged other people are
to be in his presence. Is it really surprising then that he would look at an
attractive woman and say what he says? I’d argue that it’s perfectly in
character. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
Azrael Biglerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12535444913912947290noreply@blogger.com0