Guest Blogger: Paul Cogley

Musing On the 4th A Star Is Born (2018)

by Paul Cogley

In 2014, I wrote a review on this blog about the 1975 remake of A Star Is Born. Or rather, it was more like a musing on the film, since Azrael had already reviewed it, as well as reviewed the original A Star Is Born (1937) and A Star Is Born (1954). Here again I want to present my musings rather than write a typical film review. However, I recommend you see the film if you enjoy a good musical romance-tear-jerker. On the scale of its predecessors, my rating for this film would be on the upper side between the 1954’s great remake and the 1975’s botched remake.

Previously I wrote of my opinion that Barbra Streisand’s self-indulgence on the classic story spoiled her film version in various ways, which accounted for why filmmakers avoided newer remakes. So this summer I was gratified to hear that finally—after more than 40 years—Hollywood’s banishment of A Star Is Born was finally at an end.

And so, earlier this month, Dyanne and I took our seats at the Del Oro Theater—a historic Art Deco theater in Grass Valley, CA —for the opening night screening.  How lucky we are to have one of the grand vintage film venues in our community to see first-run films!

While we waited for the movie trailers, I looked around and saw a crowd of about 200 with a good cross section of millennials, Xers, and boomers. I asked the young couple near us what brought them to the show and they said they were fans of the two stars. They were referring to Bradley Cooper, 43, who plays the “falling star” and who also directed the film in his directorial debut, and Lady Gaga, 32, who plays the “rising star” in her film acting debut.

Timing can be everything, and I very much approve of these two stars’ decision to make this film now in their respective careers. In my previous review, I discussed the reasons why the ages of the stars of A Star Is Born are so important in the casting of the story, which still holds for this version as well:

“In any version of A Star is Born past or, hopefully, future, the rising female star cannot be an ingénue—she’s done her journeyman work and is now past her 20s—and we absolutely must see the male lead prematurely burn out from the pressures of stardom and his own ego. We could not simply watch his downfall because he’s aging ungracefully. It’s not a story about the young and old, it’s about love and rivalry within the 30s and 40s set. A Star Is Born can be redone for every generation because it is about the select few whose struggles get them to the top and then peers into how badly it can go from there, and therein lies its appeal.”

I have heard of two sources for the inspiration of the original A Star Is Born in 1937. The George Cukor directed What Price Hollywood (1932) is often cited because of its similar storyline.  Recently I heard another theory that the original A Star Is Born was inspired or based on Hollywood gossip of the day about the rocky marriage between superstar Barbara Stanwyck and her husband Frank Fay, a faded star of the New York stage. Fay pushed Stanwyck in her early career while neglecting his own, and by 1937 his career had nosedived and reputation soured from his alcoholism and own misbehavior. I find it interesting that in 1937 Fay was 45 and Stanwyck was 30.

In my previous review, my biggest complaint about the flawed Streisand version was her decision to play up her own role while downplaying Kristofferson’s. She basically played a Streisand-type singing sensation, while Kristofferson was relegated to impersonating a Jim Morrison-type rock god.  That was a shame because he was in top form in the 1970s as a Americana-style singer-songwriter. However, perhaps Kristofferson is having the last laugh. In this version, Bradley Cooper plays a singer whose persona might have been modeled after Kris Kristofferson’s. The songs are in the Americana style and co-written by Lukas Nelson, son of Willie Nelson.  Kristofferson toured with Willie Nelson in the 1970s in the supergroup The Outlaws, with Johnny Cash and Waylon Jennings.

The box office draw for the new A Star is Born has a lot to do with people’s curiosity about Lady Gaga in her debut film. Her fans want to check out if the superstar entertainer will be able to build a second career in Hollywood. Over the decades, many hit-making singing sensations have tried, but few succeeded with that ambition. The winners include Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Doris Day, Elvis Presley, Barbara Streisand, Will Smith, and Justin Timberlake. Oh, and give Kristofferson an honorable mention.

In this film, I feel that Bradley Cooper was charitable to Lady Gaga. For one thing, Lady Gaga gets to play a singer who sings like Lady Gaga. Also, her character’s development is often depicted in easygoing improvised scenes involving her and  Cooper. This doesn’t tax Lady Gaga’s acting ability too much, and she gets to show off her natural charm. As a film star, she has an appealing and interesting face and natural body language, which are both must-haves for any sustainable Hollywood career.

Music is central to all of the A Star Is Born remakes. The earlier versions did not disappoint musically. Version #2 had Judy Garland singing one of her biggest hits, “The Man Who Got Away,” which still ranks #11 in the American Film Institutes Top 100 Film Songs. Barbra Streisand’s film has her singing one of her biggest hits, “Evergreen,” which ranks #16 on the AFI’s song list. The Bradley Cooper/Lady Gaga duet “Shallow” debuted on the Billboard Top 100 at #23.  It’s a good song, but who knows if it will make the AFI list someday.

One postscript: seeing A Star Is Born on opening night made for a fun evening out. For one thing, it’s always a joy when one’s laughter at comedy bits is joined by that of a couple hundred other people also enjoying themselves in the same theater. That would most likely happen when you’re out to see a star-studded romantic movie on opening night. Not enough films these days fit that bill.

Guest Blogger

Musing On Seeing The Cameraman on the Big Screen

 by Paul Cogley

In the town next to mine is a Lutheran church with an organist on its staff. Nothing unusual about that. However, in this case, the organist is Walt Strony, a well-known musician in silent film society circles. Recently, he joined up his two worlds to host a screening of Buster Keaton’s The Cameraman at the church where he has his day job.

When I saw this event listed in the local paper, all I knew about The Cameraman I got from Azrael’s four-star review in Musings on Movies. I looked forward to checking out this full-length silent comedy on the big screen.

The event took place on a lovely summer evening. I didn’t expect to see much of a crowd, so I was surprised to find the parking lot nearly full; my first thought was that probably another church event was also happening. However, when I got to the hall, it was packed.

The storyline of the film is as simple as can be: Buster is a street photographer trying to break into the MGM newsreel business while also trying to start a romance with the young woman working at the front desk.  The atmosphere of the film is enhanced by on-location Manhattan scenes, such as a double-decker bus, public swimming pool, and Chinatown street. Within this framework the film delivers wave after wave of comedy sequences that build up tsunami-like with perfect timing. Again, I suggest Azrael’s review for his insights on how come the film works so well and why it deserves acclaim and renown.

What is interesting to me is that I saw the film in a manner as closely as possibly to how the filmmaker/artist must have originally envisioned — live audience! live music!  big screen!—and my experience of the film has now been fused with the actual showing that I saw. 

In a real way — or should I say “reel way”? — I felt as if I was attending an evening of live theater. The infectious nature of people’s laughter was a priceless value added to the the film itself. It felt good to join in with the fun; to be surrounded by 200 people reacting uproariously to the cascading humorous predicaments befalling dauntless Buster.

Walt Strony’s pipe organ accompaniment was smoothly arranged and synced perfectly with the film’s scenes and emotions. When it was over, Walt got up from his organ bench to a standing ovation. After all, he had just entertained a packed hall with his nonstop 80-minute performance.

Walt said a few words, that royalties for this public performance of The Cameraman were $250, and folks were reminded this was a fundraiser for a new church organ, so make a donation at the door if you can.

He also announced plans for a follow-up silent film organ performance in October, most likely Charlie Chaplin’s The Gold Rush. I know I won’t want to miss that one.

Guest Blogger: Paul Cogley

 Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)

Reviewed by Paul Cogley

Here is movie star Olivia de Havilland photographed regally in June 2016 wearing a blue dress in a blue room in her Paris apartment on the occasion of her 100th birthday. Also shown here is a publicity photo of De Havilland as Maid Marian with Errol Flynn as Robin Hood, taken when the two were enthralled in an offscreen romance.

 

The screen star has long been known for her intelligence and independence. In a 1944 landmark court case which resulted in what became known as the De Havilland Law, she sued Warner Bros. to reduce the studio’s power and extend creative freedom to performers.

De Havilland still possess her sharp mind and independent streak. For her 100th birthday, she gave several interviews—including with NPR—that are well worth Googling. Reading those interviews led me to seek out “The Adventures of Robin Hood,” from my local library.

Never trying to be an historical account of the late Middle Ages, the Michael Curtiz film presents the legend of Robin Hood redone as Hollywood Movie Magic. It remains one of the greatest family movies of all time. In nearly all aspects, the film feels as fresh today as it was during its successful 1938 release and second go-round as a feature-movie rerelease back in 1948.

The story begins some time after King Richard has ridden off from Merry Olde England and gotten himself jailed after fighting a Crusade. The king’s mean, hedonistic brother Prince John has taken full advantage of the situation to raise taxes and in all ways ruin the lives of the peasants. Eventually, his life of debauchery will be foiled by the eagle-eyed archer and good-natured forest dweller Robin Hood, with the help of his motley band of income-inequality warriors. Also, Maid Marian, who lives in the court, will fall for the charms of Robin and have a change of heart about her royal privileges when she considers the injustice its cost has on the commoners.

This is a movie with many elements, all of them working in-synch together. It is a Technicolor production, which until then was still a mediocre technology. Due to the new breakthrough in color processing introduced in this film, the costumes and scenery were brilliantly toned to dazzle the audience, similarly to what would be seen again in “The Wizard of Oz” (1939). 

The Oscar-winning film score was composed and arranged by the Austrian opera composer Erick Wolfgang Korngold. His music superbly pushes the battle action and fits the film’s many moods, such as the lighthearted times in Sherwood Forest and the romantic interludes between Marian and Robin.

The film was a milestone in action choreography. Our modern standards for adventure film battles - featuring clashing swords, whizzing arrows, etc.- began with the sophisticated realistic action that was carefully plotted in this movie. At times I thought I was seeing bits of action that would be actually referenced by George Lucas four decades later in his Star Wars trilogy.

Finally, the film has a wonderful cast. In the 1930s, in his earlier films, Errol Flynn had reinvented the role of the irreverent swordsman and rakish man of action using the template of the silent era’s Douglas Fairbanks Sr. Flynn was charming, young, and athletically gifted, and a wonderful fit for the role of Robin Hood.

Regarding Olivia De Havilland’s performance, in this modern era we tend to more fully appreciate an interpretation such as her Maid Marian, who is a strong and thoughtful woman. Nothing is played saccharine sweet with this Maid Marian.

Prince John is nicely played by Claude Rains, who would later again work with director Curtiz as the French inspector in “Casablanca” (1943). Also notable in the cast is Prince John’s very intelligent aide, Sir Guy, played by Basil Rathbone. Poor Sir Guy, almost every bit as intelligent as Robin Hood, hatches one doomed scheme after another to defeat his nemesis, and eventually faces off with him for one final sword duel.

“The Adventures of Robin Hood” is a movie that is fun for the whole family. However, battle scene are often intense and may not be appropriate for children under six.  

Guest Reviews: Paul Cogley

BITTER RICE (1948)

Reviewed by Paul Cogley

The opening scene of Bitter Rice (1948) seems like a documentary. A narrator speaks of the plight of migrant women, known as mondine, who arrive yearly in northern Italy’s Po Valley for the 40-day rice harvest season. The camera pans over scores of women packed in rows of Fiat trucks, cheering and waving to onlookers. But we soon see that our narrator is a character within this film, a news reporter telling the story of the day for his radio audience. He will disappear from view as we continue to follow the women to the rice fields where the film’s real story unfolds.

The opening documentary approach becomes the first of several genre twists that director Guiseppi De Santes embeds into this golden age neorealistic film masterpiece. The film is so rich in details that they are difficult to sort out. Even when a scene fails in its intent, it nevertheless manages to succeed in unintentional ways. For example, over-choreographed scenes of the mondine singing in the fields still manage to work as Greek chorus-like interludes pushing forward the sense of fatalism of the main characters.

The story is about two couples whose lives interlock during the rice harvest. Francesca, is with the thief Walter. She sneaks on the train with the mondine and meets Sylvania, who gets her work as a clandestina, an uncontracted worker. Sylvania avidly reads photo-romance magazines and is enthralled that Francesca may be involved in a jewelry heist reported in the daily papers. As things proceed, Walter will jilt Francesca for Sylvania while planning another heist, this time to steal the season’s rice harvest. In the meantime Francesca will gain the affections of Sylvania’s spurned boyfriend Marco, an upstanding career army sergeant. The final confrontation takes place in a grizzly slaughterhouse. 

Silvana Mangano plays the role of Sylvania and gives an exceptional performance. She acts sensuous and innocent yet also seasoned, torn between facing her future as either a rice worker or a thief’s accomplice. In the New York Times’ 1949 review, Bowsley Crawford compared the 19-year old actress to Anna Magnani, Ingrid Bergman, and Rita Hayworth. In two scenes she simply dances while crowds of onlookers cheer; like everything else in this film, these scenes fit in perfectly.

De Santes began his film career as a scriptwriter for Vincente Visconti’s Ossesione (1942), the important precurser of the neorealistic film movement. Much like Ossessione, Bitter Rice is a hybrid film, weaving together Hollywood-style suspense and pure melodrama, not to mention cinematically beautiful wetlands scenery of sun reflections on the water. 

Reintroducing Hollywood elements into neorealistic filmmaking was De Santes’ contribution to the evolution of the movement. Until De Santes, the overtly theoretically based neorealistic films tended to take their social messages a bit too seriously. De Santes showed a way to stay true to the movement’s mission and principles while more fully entertaining audiences. For example, even as we see women workers donning straw hats to begin a hard day bent over knee-deep in water, the camera turns to show us lush panoramas of gushing water spilling over the dykes

As with any other neorealistic film of the era—including De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves, also made in 1948—Bitter Rice refuses to end with a wrapped up resolution. A mark of a true neorealistic film was not to deliver a happy ending but, rather, to emphasize that the struggles of the proletariat always face another day. As the word FIN fills the screen of Bitter Rice, we are left to understand that the mondine will return to the Po Valley again next year to live new stories filled with passion and injustice.

Guest Review: Paul Cogley

I KNEW HER WELL (Italy, 1965)

Review by Paul Cogley

Adriana is young and fresh from the country. In Rome, she is easily lured into the hedonistic, fast life, where she will meet many men who are eager to show her a good time, make promises they will not keep, and inevitably discard her.

At one point Adriana happily takes care of a baby boy while her neighbor runs an errand.  She gives up an opportunity to audition for a film in order to have this one afternoon of babysitting. Precious few moments like this allow her to express her inner life. Over time we see her ever-ready smile become not so ready. Sooner than anyone could have expected, Adriana must face up to the lonely fate of so-called party girls.

Antonio Pietrangeli’s “I Knew Her Well” (1965) fits in the genre of Italian modernist movies that includes Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” (1960) and Antonioni’s “L’Eclisse” (1962).  These filmmakers sought to uncover the malaise of post-war 20th century materialism and explore the harm to the soul that comes with unreflective relationships. Their films took place in Rome’s fashionable but ultimately empty, fast-paced world. All feature Rome’s night scenes and use black-and-white cinematography to convey a darkness of mood.

In “La Dolce Vita” American style rock is featured in just one scene. By Pietrangeli’s film—made five years later—rock has become the pervasive soundtrack. The early British Invasion style rock it features seems, in retrospect, to innocently foreshadow the excessive drug subculture that will pervade the youth culture by the end of the 1960s. 

Most strikingly, these films are modernist in their experimental, un-narrative approaches to storytelling. The filmmakers wanted viewers to spend some effort to discern clues about the unseen, interior lives of their characters. Thus, “I Knew Her Well” begins with a series of vignettes featuring Adriana. With frequent and abrupt segues, the film’s vignettes don’t start to add up as a unified story until we catch on that Adrilana’s self-realization is beginning to awaken. 

A turning point occurs in a bedroom scene, when Adriana—draped only in a sheet—recognizes herself in a character description that her novelist lover has left in his typewriter. From there, Pietrangeli’s storytelling technique works better since we are no longer left to wonder about the overall point for the vignettes.

Unlike Fellini and Antonioni, in his lifetime Pietrangeli never achieved high critical regard, nor did his films receive the notoriety that they deserved. He died in 1968 from an accident and for many years was virtually unmentioned in Italian film histories. Then, in the early 2000s, film academics began a reappraisal of his work. Screenings took place at the Museum of Modern Art and elsewhere. Critical and popular acclaim increased. 

In 2013, his reputation was further restored when “I Knew Her Well” was listed among the Venice Film Festivals “100 Most Important Italian Films to Preserve 1942-1978.” (It is #75). In February 2016, “I Knew Her Well” finally became widely available with English subtitles in the Criterion DVD Collection. 

The film is also well served by the natural performance of Stefania Sandrelli as Adrana. Sandelli was 19 in this film but seems to be a few years older. Already a seasoned film star, she had key supportive roles in Pietro Germi’s dark comedies “Divorce Italian Style” (1961) and “Seduced and Abandoned” (1963). Today Sandrelli still works in film; according to IMBD, she is featured in a new film to be released in 2016, “Il Crimine Non Va In Pensione.”

Guest Blogger: Paul Cogley - A Star is Born (1976)

More Musings on A Star is Born (1976)

By Paul Cogley

Streisand’s A Star Is Born (1976) was an entertainment about celebrity dreams, angst, and hell, and was over-the-top and cliché-ridden. Nevertheless, for me, in its hippie-kitchie rock-god kind of way, it had its moments that keep it from being a big bore when watching it today.

The movie was so self indulgent that 20 years later—late 1990s-early 2000s—nobody would step forward for another try at another remake. Too bad, because an update with Whitney Houston or Gwyneth Paltrow—they were in their 30s then—might’ve worked well.  

In 1976, Streisand was 34 and just the right age to play an Esther Blodget character —renamed  in this third movie version as Esther Hoffman.  The previous Esthers were Janet Gaynor, who was 31 in the 1937 version, and Judy Garland , who was 32 in the 1954 remake. 

Version #3 has a back-story more interesting than the movie itself.  In the planning stages of the movie, Streisand asked Elvis Presley, who was 41, to play the Norman Maine role—now known as John Norman Howard.

Elvis’ movie career went into a tailspin in the late ‘60’s. But he was willing to try Hollywood again after doing plenty of TV specials, concert tours, Las Vegas engagements, and a steady run of hit record releases.  Elvis told Streisand he was interested. But the idea of Elvis playing an over the hill faded star? You can almost hear his manager Colonel Parker’s response to the idea: “You are kidding, right?” The idea was nixed. Elvis died in 1977, a year after the movie’s release.

So the role went to the rugged singer-songwriter and box office star Kris Kristofferson, age 40. Unfortunately, I believe Streisand modeled the Norman character Kristofferson played after Jim Morrison, lead singer of the Doors, who died about four years earlier. Playing that kind of rock god didn’t fit well with the country vibe of Kristofferson. Too bad. I think he might’ve been a natural for this role if the character was based loosely on a Hank Williams crossed with Johnny Cash burned-out star. But A Star Is Born was designed to be a Streisand vehicle all the way, so probably not much thought was put into the Norman role.

By the way, Frederick March was 40 as Norman Maine and James Mason was 45.

I’ve brought up the ages of all the actors playing Esther and Norman roles because their ages are one of the most important elements to the story’s dynamic. A Star is Born is all about making it to the heights and taking the big downfall with celebritydom. 

In any version of A Star is Born past or, hopefully, future, the rising female star cannot be an ingénue—she’s done her journeyman work and is now past her 20s—and we absolutely must see the male lead prematurely burn out from the pressures of stardom and his own ego. We could not simply watch his downfall because he’s aging ungracefully. It’s not a story about the young and old, it’s about love and rivalry within the 30s and 40s set. A Star Is Born can be redone for every generation because it is about the select few whose struggles get them to the top and then peers into how badly it can go from there, and therein lies its appeal.

Guest Blogger: Paul Cogley - Ordinary People

Ordinary People (1980)

Reviewed by Paul Cogley

Subtle and profound, Ordinary People is a movie about a family in the aftermath of a calamity.

Before we know what has happened to this family, we see them carrying on as if nothing in life is out of the ordinary. When the teenage boy Conrad talks to his doctor, he says “I want to be more in control so people stop worrying about me.”

“Well, I’m not big on control,” the doctor replies.

The next scene is at Conrad’s home. We linger a moment at a row of rolled linen napkins in gleaming silver napkin holders, tended to by his mother. “Isn’t it time we get back to normal?” she asks her husband.

As I watched, I was drawn to the idea that the inner turmoil beneath the surface of this family was strongly referenced in these two simple scenes. As the story moved along, I increasingly saw that each relationship in the family was different in its own way, between that of father and son, son and mother, and husband and wife.

At the time of its release, Ordinary People was a big success both at the box office and critically, winning Best Picture and Best Director at the Academy Awards. Yet it is remarkable to learn just how unlikely it was that Ordinary People came together as a movie project in the way that it did.

A few short years earlier, an ex-teacher without a literary agent sent her first novel to Viking Press. Surprisingly, an editor bought the rights to publish it. Judith Guest’s Ordinary People was the first unsolicited manuscript that the company had bought in 26 years.

A short time later, before the novel was even published, Guest received an unexpected visitor at her suburban Minnesota home. Robert Redford—the ruggedly handsome Hollywood star—had come calling to acquire her novel’s movie rights.

Redford was well regarded as a lead actor at that time, although never nominated for prestigious acting awards - a slight very recently reiterated by the Academy when it did not nominate him for his incredible portrayal of a lone sailor in All Is Lost. In the late 1970s, Redford surely knew he was well suited to play the part of father and husband Calvin Jarrett in Ordinary People, a role that might have given him a shot to deliver an Oscar-level performance. However, for this project Redford focused his intentions on trying his hand as a first-time movie director.

The Calvin role would go to Donald Sutherland, best known then as the original Hawkeye in the movie MASH, at the time a TV hit staring Alan Alda. The other two major adult roles went to a couple of TV sitcom stars. The part of Beth Jarrett went to Mary Tyler Moore, easily the most popular female comedian on TV since Lucille Ball. Judd Hirsch from the sitcom Taxi would play psychiatrist Dr. Berger, a role that in today’s world we would associate as a family or cognitive therapist. The two major teenager roles went to Timothy Hutton and Elizabeth McGovern.

It was an unlikely group of creative talent that came together as cast and crew of Ordinary People. Interestingly, the stars’ background work tilted towards lighter fare and comedy, while the underlying storyline theme in this story—in the words of author Judith Guest—was “about the anatomy of depression.”  

A major contribution also came from screenwriter Alvin Sargent. His beautiful work won a clean sweep of awards including Academy Award, Golden Globe, and Writers Guild of America awards for Best Adapted Screenplay.

Hutton won the Best Supporting Actor Academy Award for his role as Conrad Jarrett. It was a role so important to the movie that they easily might have given him the award for Best Actor instead.

One more thought: as the story unfolded, I came to believe that viewing the teenage Conrad come to grips with depression would be most powerfully experienced by a teenaged audience. I think teenagers today would still get a lot from this movie. But it’s not only for them; for the rest of us as well, Ordinary People remains one of the great family dramas in film history.

Guest Review: Paul Cogley - Hideout (1934)

Hideout (1934)

Reviewed by Paul Cogley

Hideout is not well known, but it is an utterly delightful Depression-era movie directed by W. S. Van Dyke and starring a superb cast of players in all of its leading and supporting roles. It is well-paced and funny, and has a clever story about a hardcore criminal who becomes reformed because he hides out with good people.

We are introduced to Lucky Wilson, played by Robert Montgomery, a racketeer with a roving eye for pretty blondes that is revealed to us in a film montage sequence of his female conquests. We are taken to a particular evening where we find him flirting with a nightclub dancer. But as it so happens, Lucky is being tailed by the police and a gun-firing chase ensues. Wounded while fleeing, he is found on the road by a Good Samaritan Connecticut farmer and brought to his home to recuperate. Thus ends the seamy side of Lucky’s life, and for the rest of the movie we will see him change gradually as the values of the farmer’s family rub off on him.

The farmer has a daughter named Pauline, played by a sunny Margaret O'Sullivan, whose naturalness contrasts with the glamorous women we saw with Lucky in the city.  Pauline has a younger brother, Willie, who takes a liking to him.  The young actor playing Willie was my favorite among the excellent supporting cast: Mickey Rooney. The young Rooney was 13 years old but looked younger here. His acting is natural and amazingly feels fully actualized. Rooney’s rapport with Montgomery is especially well done.

A running gag has Lucky attempting to spend time alone with Pauline, but some mishap always foils him up. Finally, caught in a rainstorm, they take shelter in a cabin near the farm and sit in front of the fire, alone together at last. Of course, by now our incorrigible lady’s man has fallen in love with the wholesome, beautiful farmer’s daughter.

This is a heart-warming, family-friendly film with a lot of laughs. Made eighty years ago, it holds up very well. Anyone at any age would enjoy it. 

Guest Blogger: Paul Cogley - Eccentricities of a Blonde-haired Girl

Eccentricities of a Blonde-haired Girl (2009)

Reviewed by Paul Cogley

Portuguese movie director Manoel de Oliveira was born on December 11, 1908. According to his Wikipedia page, he is currently in pre-production on a movie called The Old Restelo.

Back when de Olieveira was only 101 years old, he made a spare, dreamy elegant movie “Singularidades de Uma Rapariga Loura,” the Portuguese title of Eccentricities of a Blonde-haired Girl. It is an adaptation of a short story by Eca de Queiroz, Portugal’s great 19^th century writer, and it retains the feeling of a tautly told story in every gesture and spoken line.

The movie opens on a train. A narrator states that sometimes the things you can’t tell your family you can tell a stranger. A young man —clearly in duress—then proceeds to tell his story to a fellow passenger, a middle-aged woman who listens with curiosity.

While the story is shown in flashback, the movie returns on occasion to these two on the train, as if we need reminding that the story remains an unresolved chapter in the life of the young man. In the course of the story, the young man, whose name is Macário, is told that he is foolish. Certainly he is foolish as only a romantic young man can be, although, in his case, somewhat more so. 

One day, while he is working at his desk, a young woman appears at the balcony across from him. She is a real beauty, and Macário is instantly infatuated. On the night they finally meet, they sit in at a poker game. A poker chip falls to the floor. The dealer searches, but the poker chip is not found. Is the movie moving into shades of magical realism with a vaguely paranormal event? No, only dropping a clue that will only be understood when Macário completes his tale. 

The two decide to marry. But things start to go wrong.  And, since we know this will end with Macário traveling alone on the train, we are drawn into the tension of what happened.

After seeing two of his movies, I notice a delicacy to the atmosphere of de Oliveira’s direction that I haven’t seen anywhere else. 

Often, de Oliveira does not allow his cameras to move, but has his actors play into the frame, a technique that goes back to the earliest days of filmmaking. The furniture, wall fixtures, and rooms match the eras they were built in, late 19^th and early 20^th-century Lisbon. People wear the dresses and suits that hark back to the sartorially sophisticated first decades of the 20^th century. We might spend a moment at a harp recital of a Debussy song, another moment with a poem by a Portuguese poet. 

In one scene, Macário kisses the hand of his uncle in homage to him, perhaps as was the custom when Eça de Queiros wrote this story in the 19^th century. Nevertheless, when we see Macário at his desk, he works in front of a laptop computer.

When Macário brings his story to the present—the trip on the train—I wanted to hear from the woman passenger. Surely, she would have something to say from which Macário might learn a thing or two. But, de Oliviera doesn’t give much voice for the one character that might just have a bit of wisdom to share, since she is in a later stage of life.  She was placed there on the train by de Oliviera as a stand-in, so-to-speak, so that we might listen along with her as we watch this movie.  In the end, we are left to rely on our own experiences to reflect on what we’ve seen and heard from the young and foolish Macário.

Guest Blogger: Paul Cogley - The Last Rites of Joe May

The Last Rites of Joe May (2011)

By Paul Cogley

We meet Joe May as he is being released from a stay at Cook County Hospital after a bout of pneumonia. Once outside, Joe learns that life in his small corner of the West Side of Chicago has gone right on without him. Wherever he goes, he hears the same thing:  “Joe May! I thought you were dead!”

In a very short time, Joe finds himself without an apartment or a car. Or, for that matter, a best friend, since his buddy Billy (Chelcie Ross) entered a senior home and wants nothing to do with life on the outside. Joe becomes another of the aging homeless men spending nights on a bus bench.

Dennis Farina gives a stunning performance as the sixty-something Joe May, a washed-up, smalltime hustler who will get one last chance to make something of his life.

That last chance comes from Jenny Rapp (Jamie Anne Allman) and her seven-year-old daughter, Angelina (Meredith Droeger). They have recently moved into the apartment that was Joe’s home for 40 years. Finding Joe on a bench on a cold winter night, Jenny takes pity on him and invites him to stay the night.

While I was watching that scene I thought how unlikely it was for a single woman in her position to take such a risk with a virtual stranger. However, as the movie later reveals, Jenny has a pattern of putting herself in risky situations with men without learning the lessons she needs to learn.

Joe and Jenny become friends. No romance develops. In fact, when Jenny asks Joe for a hug in a crisis moment, Joe simply says, “That wouldn’t be a good idea.” End of subject.

Joe’s relationship with the seven-year-old daughter Angelina grows significantly. Joe’s most endearing trait is keeping pigeon coops on the roof of the apartment building. The care of the pigeons becomes a natural bonding activity for an old man and young girl.

Joe Maggio, who wrote and directed The Last Rite of Joe May layered symbolism and metaphors throughout the film’s screenplay. One would be the girl’s name, Angelina. She is indeed like an angel who Joe can share his passion for pigeons with and learn to become her protector.

Another metaphor would be Joe’s pigeons, which are meaningful to Joe in a way similar to the pigeons that Marlon Brando tended as the longshoreman Terry Malloy in On the Waterfront. Both stories are in essence stories about redemption and justice. In Waterfront Terry was a confused hustler who was transformed into a self-sacrificing protector champion. In The Last Rites of Joe May, we will see Joe transform from a confused hustler as he faces a similar challenge.

That challenge comes from the presence of Stanley Buczkowski (Ian Barford), Jenny’s stalking, abusive boyfriend, who is also a bad cop.

The movie relies a bit too much on overly-familiar cinematic techniques in order to build up the sense of tension needed for the finale. Nevertheless, I was satisfied it lived up to its title. The Last Rite of Joe May is, on many levels, a deeply moving movie. 

*The Last Rites of Joe May has adult content, including strong language and violence.

Review – Pink Cloud Black Cloud

September 27, 2007

Pink Cloud Black Cloud - U.S., 2006

Four anti-depressants, one mood stabilizer, six anti-psychotics, two PSNs, four times a day - this was the daily cocktail taken by Dyanne Drummonds, the subject of a short documentary called Pink Cloud Black Cloud. On July 14, 2005, Dyanne made the decision to stop taking this medication cocktail, for it had caused her to lose what she calls her “mental agility.” Because of this, she is sometimes unable to find the words to describe things and finds herself lacking passion and strong feelings. The documentary shows the viewer the four months of Dyanne's life following her decision, and in the process, it takes the audience on a rather extraordinary journey.

As Dyanne explains it, she has three conditions: borderline personality disorder, bipolar disorder, and social anxiety disorder, each of which requires its own prescription. For five years, doctors have been adding and making changes to her cocktail, but her problems have persisted. To her, not taking her prescription is a way of taking back control. And in the beginning, her decision pays off.

Dyanne's story is told in three parts. First, there is August, which initially brings positive feeling. Dyanne describes herself as feeling alive and starting to sprout. However, later that month, Dyanne, unable to rid herself of the worry that she will decline and fearing that her positive feelings will end, checks herself into a hospital, which she describes as a very painful place. When she gets out, she tells us that the doctors have prescribed a new anti-depressant for her. In September, Dyanne once again feels positive about life, referring to the person she is now as "confident Dyanne" and "non-prescription Dyanne." She goes to a street fair, where she exhibits what has to be one of the most genuine smiles you'll ever see. Dyanne is seen volunteering for the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill because, as she says, it's important for people to know that they are not alone. October brings Diane's 50th birthday and with it a flood of emotions that Dyanne cannot trace the source of. Is it the normal feelings that go along with a birthday? Is it the medication? Is it her condition? She has no answers and fears that her depression is returning.

Several moments in the film stand out. Early in the film, there is a shot of Dyanne's medication that will shock people. In another scene, Dyanne is seen looking at a beautiful river, and yet she explains that she keeps wondering if Spalding Gray's body will float by. Perhaps most memorable are the scenes of Dyanne after she has checked herself into the hospital. In them, she sits on a hospital bed in a depressed state and relates her feeling of being substandard. It is truly heartbreaking. The film also shows Dyanne in the opposite state. At times in the film, she is positive and cheerful. In one scene, she goes to a museum and explains the significance of a statue of a woman. Her explanation of both the history behind the statue and its significance to her are inspiring.

At one point, Dyanne asks why the answer to a problem is always a pill, and she wonders if she can change without medication. Pink Cloud Black Cloud does not claim to have the answers to these questions. Perhaps the film's greatest revelation is that we know very little about curing the mind of anxieties and emotional difficulties. If we did, Dyanne's treatment would have ceased by now. Instead, a patient is asked to rely on a pill for each condition, which as Dyanne tells us has left her unaccustomed to controlling herself, unable to say where the medication stopped and she began. This is a lesson that everyone should take to heart. (available on DVD at http://www.pinkcloudblackcloud.com/; also can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/)

3 and a half stars

*Pink Cloud Black Cloud is grainy at times. There are also a few moments during which Dyanne is hard to hear. However, these moments are short-lived and do not take away from the film's power.

**In the interest of full disclosure, it should be mentioned that the director of the film, Paul Cogley, is the reviewer's stepfather.