Give a Hoot, Read a Book
Entertainment Weekly continues their hallowed tradition of opening multiple cans of worms with its New Classics issue, subtitled “The 1000 Best Movies, TV Shows, Albums, Books & More of the Last 25 Years.” Equal parts cool and infuriating, EW has taken the “list” concept to its logical conclusion and made up an issue consisting entirely of lists. The movies list is overall pretty good, only hitting the overrated and/or inexplicably popular movies at around #25 (Shrek). The TV list is overrun with lots of superpopular shows that I never “got,” but they’re forgiven since they put The Simpsons on top where it rightfully belongs. Several classic albums appear on the music list, although to be honest music is such a subjective thing that they could’ve had 100 different fans picking 10,000 different albums and they would all have some validity. So, EW, your shit still stinks. Don’t even get me started on the bizarre randomness that is the 50 Pop Culture Moments That Rocked Fashion.
What really got me inspired here is their books list, specifically the top 50. This one seemed a lot more thoughtful than the others, and it covers a wide range of stuff. I’m sure there are a few overrated choices there, too, but what struck me personally is that I’ve only read two books in the entire top 50! Those two (technically three) would be Art Spiegelman’s Maus/Maus 2 (#7) and Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (#16). If I had an endless bank of time, I’d love to read the other 48. Unlike the other lists, most of them actually appear worth looking into. Another time consuming project I’ve been investigating is to check out various novels that have appeared on the year-end best seller lists from throughout the 20th century. Further tempting is the fact that many of those earlier bestsellers are available as free downloads at Project Gutenberg. Unlike EW, apparently, I have a burning desire to know what rocked the average American reader in, say, the year 1902.
Weekly Mishmash: June 22-28
The Apple (1980). Welcome to the future, where society is controlled by one giant record company. Will the earnest lady folksinger and her Will Ferrell-lookalike boyfriend get lured into stardom by the evil Mr. Boogalow? This was as horrible as it sounds, a wannabe Rocky Horror crammed with lots of unmemorable songs and beyond tacky mylar fashions. One thing I can say is that it sure is, um, unique, and lovers of bad cinema would be advised to give it a once-over. Now I can’t wait to check out that Bibi’s Greatest Hits album.
Justice: Crimes, Trials and Punishments by Dominick Dunne. This was an unexpectedly fascinating book lent to me by the s.o. It’s made up of reprinted articles from Vanity Fair, with about a third of the pieces devoted to the unbelievable media circus surrounding the O.J. Simpson trial. Going in I thought I was all over O.J., but Dunne’s perspective is utterly riveting and he uncovered a lot of weird and unsettling details about that whole fiasco. It really was a page turner. Dominick Dunne isn’t so much a traditional journalist as a personal observer — a bit gossipy and name-dropping at times, but never lacking in depth. An uncomfortable highlight came from Dunne’s reflections on the tragic death of his own daughter Dominique, and the subsequent trial of her murderer.
Lady and the Tramp (1955). This was part of an ongoing re-evaluation of the classic Disney animated movies. For some reason, previously I lumped Lady and the Tramp in with plush yet boring efforts of the time such as Alice In Wonderland or Peter Pan. I was wrong. Although the predictability of the story is a handicap, this is a warm and beautifully made film. On the widescreen DVD edition, some of the lushly painted backgrounds left me agasp, and the animation teems with quality and craftsmanship. It’s a nice coincidence that I viewed this in the same week as Persepolis (see below), as both films are fine examples of the artistry that can be found in good hand drawn animation.
The Last Picture Show (1971). Checked out this DVD from the library after realizing that I hadn’t seen this in years (and that my earlier viewing was an edited-for-TV version). I believe it’s actually one of the best films of the ’70s, mostly due to the uniformly excellent cast. I also like the bone dry, straightforward tone that Peter Bogdonavich sets fort. You just know that, had a new young filmmaker tried to adapt this book, the film would take on a sarcastic or belittling tone — but Bogdonavich just tells it like it is with a brilliant cast to flesh it out.
Little Lord Fauntleroy (1921). Usually I’m not too hot on earlier silent films (they tend to be static and stodgy), but this Mary Pickford vehicle was nicely made and completely charming from beginning to end. Here Miss Pickford plays the duo roles of the titular street kid turned English Lord and his own mother. The film uses a lot of then-innovative camera trickery with Pickford playing against herself, in addition to making the already petite actress look even smaller as a young boy. Even if I could never fully accept her as a boy, Pickford is plucky and winning as usual. I could totally buy that she was the most famous and beloved woman on earth in the teens and ’20s.
Persepolis (2007). Like many, Persepolis first caught my eye after it garnered an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Film. In the end I actually enjoyed this slightly more than the eventual winner, Ratatouille, simply because it’s more ambitious and different. This was great exercise in exploring the human side of political upheaval, and I found myself identifying with the everyday struggles of central character Marjane more often than not. It’s also an impressively creative effort from a stylistic point of view. I loved how the filmmakers used various subtle shifts in visuals, like using color in the contemporary scenes or having the story of Iran’s past dictatorships told in shadow puppet style. It’s kind of sad that it takes a scrappy little French studio to make something so provocative and dazzling, but maybe it’ll serve as a signal for big time U.S. animation to get its collective butts in gear.
Bunnies, Comic #11
A new Two Bunnies and a Duck was posted today that deals somewhat with boredom. Although the comic is coming along nicely, I’m just not feeling terribly creative lately. I can’t even think of anything interesting to post about on Scrubbles. It’s probably a weather thing. I can’t think straight when it’s hot. It’ll probably subside soon.
Pretty Stuff to Look At
I’m at awe of the intricate paper cutouts of British illustrator Rob Ryan. Via Drawn!, where it was posted last March. Yeah, I’m that far behind on my blog reading.
Weekly Mishmash: June 15-21
The Adventurers (1970). Sitting through three hours of this Harold Robbins adaptation give me the burning need to have an “I survived The Adventurers” t-shirt made up. I was expecting something of a campy romp, but in actuality this movie is a fairly straight-faced chronicle of a young man (played by the obscure and charmless Bekim Fehmiu) as he criss crosses between battle-scarred South America and the poshest enclaves of Europe. The filmmakers were going for a sense of serious epic storytelling, but the script is so hackneyed and dull that one just sits there waiting for something, anything to happen. Things do perk up a bit when Candice Bergen shows up as Fehmiu’s bride, and there are a couple of cringe-inducing fashion shows to gape at. Other than that, this movie is all battles, straight sex, and endless conversations. And Ernest Borgnine.
The Deadly Mantis (1957). As far as giant insect movies go, The Deadly Mantis falls right around the middle. It’s no Them!, but it sufficed for our Saturday night viewing. Competently produced by a big studio, the thrills build up nicely and the cast does a decent enough job. By the end, I was actually feeling sorry for the poor giant praying mantis getting firebombed in the Manhattan Tunnel. All it probably wanted were a few massive aphids to eat.
Kites Are Fun – The Free Design. I love the Free Design, and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to download their signature album despite already owning the songs on various old compilations. Kites Are Fun was their first effort from 1967, and right away they have that super-sugary blend of lite pop, jazz and folk down pat. The title track and “My Brother Woody” are not recommended for the diabetic, and ballads like “Don’t Turn Away” are quietly compelling. The anti-materialist screen “The Proper Ornaments” is one of my very favorite tracks of theirs. They rock the harpsichords and quasi-medieval touches on that cut, and the fact that they use the same approach on their cover of the Beatles’ “Michelle” slays me. The album is oddly dated yet timeless at the same time, and listening to it makes me wonder how something as unique as the Free Design ever existed in the first place.
The Last Emperor (1987). This is one of the few Best Picture Oscar winners that I can remember seeing in a theater when it originally came out. Criterion’s recent DVD is a great way to revisit the movie. The sumptuousness of the Chinese court and the Forbidden City scenes look as breath-taking as ever, although if I have a tiny complaint it’s that the second, less sumptuous half doesn’t quite live up to the first. Great direction from Bernardo Bertolucci.
Number 1’s – Stevie Wonder. Amazon’s mp3 store has gotten more interesting since they’ve been running daily specials on certain albums, where customers can download something very cheaply but only for a short time. I nabbed this Stevie Wonder compilation for $2.99 before the price was jacked back up the next day. I have a small issue with the title — since it omits a couple of #1 R&B hits and substitutes other tunes which didn’t hit the top spot on any charts — but it’s classic Stevie and I couldn’t resist at that price.
The Oscar (1966). Oh my. This one really does live up to its camp classic reputation and plays sort of like a male-centric Valley of the Dolls. Where to begin? The balls-out hamminess of Stephen Boyd? The fact that slump-shouldered Tony Bennett flashes back to scenes that his character doesn’t even appear in? The headache-inducing interiors, heavy on gilt-framed French Impressionist prints? Or maybe it’s the odd assortment of celebrity cameos in which they’re placed in the background like props (look, it’s Edith Head!)? All that and Ernest Borgnine, too.
The Threepenny Opera (1931). One of those films that Christopher decided he didn’t want to watch (and he sat through The Adventurers with me!), so I had to view it in tiny chunks over the course of about 10 days. This was a pretty good film, beautifully restored, although in general it didn’t bowl me over. I guess it’s more interesting as a period piece for director G.W. Pabst and early sound German cinema than as an accurate version of the stage piece it’s based upon.
Friday Challenge
“Hi, I’m Troy McClure. You might remember me from such films as Today We Kill, Tomorrow We Die and Gladys, the Groovy Mule.” Know the work of everyone’s favorite animated has-been actor? Mental Floss invites you to take the quiz — Troy McClure film or actual terrible movie? (thanks to Max). I ended up getting 14 out of 15 correct. Curse you, Catalina Caper.
Puppet Organization
What’s happening today? Gay and lesbian couples got married in California and the world didn’t stop turning. Cyd Charisse died. After a week of knob turning and button pushing, I’m still trying to figure out Super Smash Bros. Brawl.
What else? I’m bored. How about amusing ourselves with the opening credits from Madame’s Place? This was a fitfully funny sitcom starring a scary marionette and the bustier of the Landers sisters. Cory Feldman was also in it, but I don’t remember him as the kid next door:
Ear Candy
Spent part of my sweltering Monday updating the musical selections at scrubbles.muxtape.com. This time I’ve got a dozen lesser-heard bubblegum tunes from 1968-72, including a quartet of songs at the end which can be classified as “bubblegum soul” (whoda thunk that Marcia Brady could sound so funky?). Break out your mint condition Partridge Family lunch box and enjoy.
Weekly Mishmash: June 8-14
Warning — obtuse pontificating on obscure old Asian movies to follow:
Daughter of the Dragon (1931) and A Study In Scarlet (1933). Two films that show Asian American actress Anna May Wong’s uneasy transition to early sound. These are both clunky and formulaic programmers in which Miss Wong plays a supporting role to two legendary characters. Daughter of the Dragon finds her doing an okay job playing the offspring of the murderous Fu Manchu (Warner Oland). Truthfully it’s a deadly dull slog and Wong is about the only interesting thing here, but the effort may have been worth it just for the awesome publicity photo below. Wong fares even worse in the cheap-o Arthur Conan Doyle adaptation A Study In Scarlet from two years later. As a murder suspect, she’s lousy and can barely summon up enough energy to bother — our reaction exactly!
The Goddess (1934). Our second vehicle for Chinese star Ruan Lingyu, following The Peach Girl from last week. This one is also silent, but in every respect it’s miles better than that earlier, more primitive film. In the kind of role that Irene Dunne might have done in the U.S., Lingyu plays a prostitute who tries to overcome social stigmas and raise her son to be a respectable, educated person. Knowing that she committed suicide shortly after this film was made brings a lot of depth to her performance.
Mr. Wu (1927). An occasionally goofy but wholeheartedly entertaining and polished silent starring the great Lon Chaney. Sure, the storyline is silly and dated — Chaney plays a member of Chinese royalty who goes ballistic when his daughter falls for a white man — but I enjoyed the lead performers and the photography/sets/costumes were stunning. Even René Adorée, not looking the least bit Chinese as the daughter, excels in several scens. Poor Anna May Wong essays the tiny role of Adorée’s confidant.
Nine Queens (2000). An exciting Argentinean heist film; I kept thinking this would benefit from a well-made American remake. Lo and behold, it was remade — although “well-made” might be generous based on the reviews I read. The ending reveals a plot hole to rival the Grand Canyon (something Christopher noticed as well), but that didn’t diminish my enjoyment of this briskly paced treat.
19 — Adele. Adele is an emerging soulful British singer-songwriter in the Amy Winehouse mold, and already she’s had several hit singles in the UK. I chanced upon this album at eMusic, which is strange since this type of music’s a bit too mainstream for that site. No matter, it’s an excellent album. Sometimes she can get too navel-gazey and her cockney affectations are hard to adjust to, but like Winehouse she’s a gutsy talent to be reckoned with. The three hits are the highlights — “Chasing Pavements” (on which she sounds bizarrely like Dusty Springfield), “Cold Shoulder” (helmed by Winehouse’s producer, Mark Ronson), and “Hometown Glory” (despite the fact that it was used in a Grey’s Anatomy episode, puke). I also adored her cover of Bob Dylan’s “Make You Feel My Love”.
Pride and Prejudice (2005). Going in I actually had pretty low expectations for this one (perhaps due to Keira Knightly’s Oscar nomination?), but it was great. Maybe I was used to the airy confection that is the 1940 Greer Garson version, but this film seemed more gritty and realistic and possibly truer to Jane Austen (which I’ve never read). I still don’t think Keira deserved the nom, but she was good — along with Brenda Blethyn and Donald Sutherland as the parents.
Bad Movie Alert
It is my civic duty to inform everybody of two intriguing bad movies coming up on Turner Classic Movies. Sure, you can always catch a screening of Lawrence of Arabia or the umpteenth showing of Father of the Bride, but how often does one get to see The Oscar (1966)? TCM will be showing it this Monday at 11 p.m. EST, introduced by Bill Maher. I can remember seeing bits of this Hollywood potboiler on the TNT channel way back in the day, and I can’t wait to check out the whole enchilada. This one begins with an actor (Stephen Boyd) at an Oscars ceremony, reflecting on his past as he awaits whether or not he’ll win the Best Actor award. It also stars Elke Sommer, Milton Berle and Tony Bennett (one can picture Bennett’s agent saying something along the lines of “Trust me, Tony, this’ll make ya a big time movie star!”). At least seeing it will at last illuminate SCTV’s parody The Nobel, with Catherine O’Hara doing a perfect, cross-eyed Elke imitation.
As if that weren’t enough, TCM will also have the notorious 1980 musical The Apple on their schedule later this month. Probably hoping nobody will notice, they have it set for a 2:00 a.m. EST showing on the morning of Saturday the 21st. Personally I can’t vouch for the quality on this one, about an international music making competition set in the far-off futuristic era of 1994. It could either be fabulously awful like Xanadu or painfully awful like Can’t Stop the Music.
Oh, and another reason to live — a new Two Bunnies and a Duck! Click on the TWC button on the right to vote for my little baby.
Book Review: Leisurama Now
Doesn’t everyone yearn for a special little place that they can get away to, especially this time of year? With Leisurama Now: The Beach House for Everyone, writer/designer Paul Sahre explores a short-lived product of early ’60s consumer optimism which ties into that basic need — the affordable middle-class summer beach house.
Specifically, this book chronicles a tract of 250 homes built under the promise-filled name of Leisurama. For a minimal down payment, ordinary New Yorkers could buy their very own beach bungalow which came fully furnished right down to the toothbrushes in the bathroom, located a short drive away on Montauk, Long Island. This was a big deal at the time — promotional models of the basic “Convertible” Leisurama model were built on the 9th floor of Macy’s and at the 1964 New York World’s Fair — and many a starry-eyed young family wanting a no-fuss summer getaway ate it up. Unfortunately, the costly program proved unprofitable and so the program was discontinued after a few years.
Sahre has catalogued and organized everything about this modest outcropping of homes with an admirable anal retentiveness. In the chapter titled “Inventory,” black and white photos of Leisurama’s original furniture, melmac dinnerware, flatware, lighting fixtures and even heating vent grates are obsessively annotated. Another section collects images of the Leisurama homes as they currently stand. Although this part takes up too many pages and the photos aren’t all that exceptional, it is interesting to see how various owners over the years have individualized the spare, modern original designs into something more homey (not to mention often overgrown with shrubbery). Starting with the kitschy clear plastic jacket, this book is full of quirky design touches. I’d even recommend the book more for designers than for architecture buffs or retro-living fans — although those would enjoy it, too.
If anything, the book is less about the properties themselves than about fundamentally what people want from a home and the expectations that are tied within those needs. A neat chapter on architect Andrew Geller contains a remarkable early rendering of a typical Leisurama model in which the design was much more daring and original than the boxy final product. The “illustion vs. reality” subtext continues in a revealing chapter interviewing a couple who have held onto their Leisurama home since 1965. Not only does it deal with the hassles of constructing the home in the ’60s, it also outlines how the neighborhood has changed since then — with many owners converting the homes into year-round residences currently worth many times more than their original investments. The neighborhood in and around Montauk may be radically different today (for an example, check out the galling photos on page 222 of a charming old Leisurama razed and replaced with a horrid contemporary McBeach House), but the basic need for a place to call “home” remains timeless.
Leisurama Now: The Beach House for Everyone was recently published by Princeton Architectural Press. Buy at Amazon.com here.
Step, Pivot, Step
Remember the super-groovy title sequence to the 1972 TV movie Probe that I posted on YouTube last year? Just today some creative person took Dominic Frontiere’s evocative music from that sequence and synced it up with a Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers dance number. Too weird, but it actually matches up pretty well! I only hope that this inspires more remixes.
Weekly Mishmash: June 1-7
The Dragon Painter (1919). We recorded and watched a lot of offerings from TCM’s Asian film fest this week — including this early silent with the first Asian-American movie idol, Sessue Hayakawa. In this brief melodrama, Hayakawa plays an artist/wild man who is crazed with visions of a phantom princess. The local master painter, aging and not having a male heir to pass his knowledge on to, offers the wild man his own daughter (played by Hayakawa’s wife, Tsuru Aoki) in exchange for keeping his own legacy alive. Meanwhile Hayakawa believes the daughter is his lost princess and goes even crazier. Despite being old, creaky and glacially paced, Hayakawa’s uninhibited but never overstated performance almost, almost saves the film.
The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters (2007). Good documentary about the efforts of decent unemployed shlub Steve Weibe to overtake the record Donkey Kong high score long held by arrogant, patriotic tie-lovin’ Billy Mitchell. This is an unmitigated “good vs. evil” tale, but it did have me spellbound the entire time (not so much with Christopher, however). It’s amazing that people in this day and age are so invested in some archaic old videogame, but that makes the subject matter even more compelling. The principals involved are so geeky and strange (could Mitchell have been any more smarmy and evil, without twirling his mustache even?) that it’s hard to believe it’s real and not some fictionalized event.
Kurt Weill On Stage: From Berlin to Broadway by Foster Hirsch. This book reminded me of Neal Gabler’s Walt Disney bio in that it’s an impeccably researched, wide-ranging and sympathetic book that never really gets to the meat of what made its subject tick. Although Kurt Weill is best known for subversive German musicals like The Threepenny Opera, I actually found the part of the book on his reinvention in America much more interesting. Foster Hirsch goes through everything Weill touched with a fine toothed comb, even giving fair assessments to lost and forgotten works like the 1939 Worlds Fair production Railroads on Parade. Unfortunately I wasn’t very familiar with Weill’s oevure before reading this, and that might have stifled my enjoyment of the book. Some writers know how to illuminate unfamiliar music and make it seem as if you’re in the room listening with them (Ethan Mordden comes to mind); Foster Hirsch, skilled as he is, doesn’t have that quality. In sum: I liked it, it could’ve been better.
Love Has Many Faces (1965) and The Big Cube (1969). As a faithful good-bad movie aficionado (who is still waiting for DVDs of the Jacqueline Susann adaptations The Love Machine and Once Is Not Enough to show up!), I had the distinct pleasure of viewing two later, overstuffed Lana Turner vehicles in one week. Both are turgid soapers which are more about Miss Turner’s fabulous wardrobes than anything that happens onscreen. In Love Has Many Faces, Turner plays a haughty heiress who gets in hot water when the body of one of her ex-boy toys washes up on the Acapulco beach where she whiles away the days sunning on her yacht. Although the supporting cast includes Cliff Robertson, Hugh O’Brian, Stefanie Powers and Ruth Roman (really good as a vacationing sexpot), the boring script leaves them with little to do. Mostly it’s about Lana’s unintentionally funny stabs at “acting” while looking swank in an endless parade of luxe Edith Head ensembles. Four years later, she’d be at it again in the LSD tripsploitation flick The Big Cube, playing an aging actress hounded by a spiteful Swedish-accented stepdaughter and her sleazy boyfriend (a gaydar-inducing George Chakiris). This one’s actually pretty fun at times, but once again the cast is let down with a dumb and painfully slangy script (”I belong to the Now Generation!”). Interesting that it has the polish of a major studio production, yet the subject matter is pure exploitation sleaze. Travilla designed the wardrobe for Turner and Karin Mossberg as the stepdaughter, and they both have this fabulously baroque late ’60s thing going on with lots of ruffles and hideous colors. I also liked the film’s occasional peeks at various chichi midcentury modern buildings (like Love, this one was also filmed in Mexico bizarrely enough), both of which made up for the film’s dull histrionics. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls this ain’t.
The Peach Girl (1931). This showcase for the ’20s-’30s star Ruan Lingyu was an interesting watch. How often does one get to see a Chinese silent, anyway? It’s slow-moving and the main characters’ passivity drove me up a wall, but I can see why Lingyu had such a Valentino-esque mystique for Chinese filmgoers. She’s awfully cute and comes across like an Asian Jennifer Love Hewett (I mean that as a compliment).
200 American (2003). A gay-themed drama that appears to have been made for about 25 cents with a stack of VHS tapes, this was a Christopher rental. Although the directing was clumsy and stilted and the acting ranges from adequate to crappy, the script was actually somewhat sharp. Which is better than nothing, I suppose.
Summer Lovin’
Don’t know about you, but I associate summer with maneuvering into furnace-like cars, dealing with an AC that never makes the home truly comfortable, and mainlining cans of Diet Coke like there’s no tomorrow. Oh, and great music! Which brings me to the latest Scrubbles.net mix, creatively titled What I Found. The contents of this mix don’t have much in common, except that they were all available on eMusic.com at some point (in the case of the Rolling Stones’ “2,000 Light Years From Home,” for about five minutes last April). Herein you’ll find ace examples of retro-styled indie pop, dance, bubblegum, e-z listening, ’60s soundtracks, ’80s kitsch and more. It’s a crazy quilt of different stuff, but it all flows together evenly and I’m finding that the music holds up quite well to repeated listenings. Download the continuous mix version below and see for yourselves.
Download What I Found: Scrubbles.net Summer 2008 Mix (65.9 MB mp3)
The fun doesn’t end there! Here are some accompanying YouTube clips to enjoy:
- Stacey Q’s “Two of Hearts” music video. Sample YouTuber comment: “She looks like my mom in the ’80s.”
- Lio and Jacky play patty cake in their “Teteou” music video. Weird in a way that only the French can do.
- Andy and David Williams perform “Say It Again” on The Partridge Family. Sooo kitschy, but I love the transition from studio to stage.
- The Magnetic Fields’ “All My Little Words,” a nicer than usual fan-made video.
- Patrick Cleandenim’s “Days Without Rain” music video (uploaded by Patrick himself!).
Yves So Fine
There have been a lot of high profile deaths in the news lately, but the passing of Yves Saint Laurent at 71 resonates the most in these quarters. Although he had a long and varied career, I always associate him with clean, crisp ’60s styles such as his iconic Mondrian print miniskirt. One of my other favorites is the whimsical floor-length number he did that looked like a football jersey festooned with hundreds of sequins (no photo link; Google, ya let me down again). Take a look at the mod ensembles he designed for Catherine Deneuve in Belle de Jour for YSL at his best — classic and wearable with a bit of sass.
