Weekly Mishmash: November 23-29
Blow Out (1981) and Body Double (1984). Chez Scrubbles was abuzz this week with a mini film fest of Brian De Palma thrillers. Although I didn’t find either of these movies particularly great, they do stand as quintessential films of their time in all their lurid, sleazy fun. Dressed to Kill was the standout from this period (still haven’t seen Scarface, natch), but Blow Out was a cheesy blast on its own. John Travolta stars as a movie sound engineer who inadvertently records an auto accident which may have been a case of murder; Nancy Allen is the airhead hooker caught up in the conspiracy. Both actors are amazingly awful to behold, honestly, but it’s fun seeing them slogging through early ’80s Philadelphia and De Palma contributes several chilling, effective scenes. Body Double, from three years later, trods a similar path (De Palma even opens the film with a similar movie-within-a-movie). It’s even sleazier, more violent, and more blatantly a ripoff of earlier, better movies. In a Rear Window/Vertigo pastiche, doofusy Craig Wasson plays a struggling actor who gets sucked into spying on a beautiful woman from inside John Lautner’s Chemosphere in the L.A. hills (hats off to the set designer for making the place look like an ’80s cokehead’s dream palace, missing only a framed Nagel print). Before you can say “totally eighties,” he acts in a porno movie with Melanie Griffith and Frankie Goes To Hollywood, and eventually unravels the mystery. Ridiculously entertaining trash.
Daisy Kenyon (1947). I remember seeing this a long time ago on American Movie Classics, with vague memories that it was a bore and a half that not even La Crawford could save. A recent DVD viewing confirmed my earlier view. Joan couldn’t have been more miscast as a bohemian Greenwich Village artist caught between a slick but married Dana Andrews and a single but wishy-washy Henry Fonda. All the cutesy peter pan collars in the world couldn’t hide the fact that she was too old for the part. I enjoy a good-bad soapy melodrama every once in a while, but this film doesn’t know what it wants to be, with a silly and dull script that takes a lot of unwarranted side detours (look, child abuse!). Oddly this does have the bones of a good film, and you can see the attraction director Otto Preminger had for these admittedly complex characters. It just doesn’t work — at all. For such an ignoble effort, Fox actually supplied the DVD with a couple of good “making of” docs that are more enjoyable than the film itself.
House (1977). Could this possibly be the weirdest movie ever made? This Japanese-schoolgirls-stuck-in-a-haunted-mansion romp plays like a first-season Facts of Life episode on crack. In the beginning it comes across like a frenetic comedy, with awful jokes and shallow characters defined by their English nicknames (Gorgeous, Prof, Melody, Kung Fu, etc.) — then it abruptly turns into a bizarre and gory fright fest. Apparently this was the debut feature for the director, whose background in commercials is readily apparent with all the “throw something onscreen and see if it works” tricks on rapid display here. Gaze in slack jawed wonder at the scene below involving a killer light fixture. I mean, wow. A must-see for weird-ass Asian film fanatics, others beware.
Let Him Have It (1991). A deeply compelling film about one of the most notorious executions in Great Britain. Derek Bentley (nicely portrayed by Christopher Eccleston) is a mentally challenged 19 year-old who falls in with the wrong crowd. In a robbery gone wrong, his friend accidentally shoots and kills a police officer — but it’s Bentley who got the more severe punishment of death by hanging. Not the brightest moment in British history, but this film has an excellent sense of a particularly austere time in the UK (and it’s not quite the overwhelming bummer I’ve made it out to be). Well acted and similar in tone to Dance With A Stranger (which was about the last woman executed in Britain). Christopher picked this from the IFC schedule, an excellent choice.
The Divine Gobbler
James Likeks’ tribute to the oddly named Gobbler Hotel in Wisconsin is a study in contrasts. Compare the space-age renderings (above) with the actual hotel in its prime — and the ’70s era structure with the sad, outdated ghost of a hotel shortly before it got demolished. Thanks to Lileks, now everybody can appreciate the Playboy After Dark grooviness of it all. The Gobbler’s architect, Helmut Ajango, is apparently still living and working in the same state as his own now-defunct creation.
Greetings from Termite Terrace
Even if it’s not strictly a Thanksgiving cartoon, I always associate Friz Freleng’s 1940 Merrie Melodie The Hardship of Miles Standish with the holiday. An overlooked fave in the Warner Bros. canon, maybe because I just can’t resist a good Edna May Oliver impersonation. Keep an eye out for the cursing Indian:
Like many others, we at scrubbles.net are taking a little break during the holiday. Have a great weekend, people!
Weekly Mishmash: November 16-22
Bully: Scholarship Edition. I’ve rented and enjoyed this game before, but as an anniversary gift from Christopher it got added to the Wii library this week. Gamers play teenaged Jimmy Hopkins, a little hellion who gets sent to a dismal private school by his uncaring mom. As the school year proceeds, you help Jimmy advance in his classes, beat up the meanies, kiss the girls (and some of the guys, too), and perform various tasks for money, new clothes, better weapons and other stuff. I’m a particular fan of these unstructured “explore” games, and with that in mind Bully is one of my favorites. Try sending Jimmy to school wearing only a wife beater and tighty whities, heh.
Belinda Carlisle — Heaven On Earth. The kind of album that I wouldn’t pay five bucks for, but for 99 cents bring it on! This slick el-lay pop wasn’t the kind of stuff I was into back in ‘87, but now it plays like cheesy but impeccably produced fun. Belinda can sing the heck out of even the most mediocre of songs. Circle in the sand, round and round …
Children of Paradise (1945). One of those films that is regarded as a masterpiece, year in and year out. The layman’s description of this as a French Gone With The Wind is surprisingly accurate — like GWTW, it deals with human relations on a grand scale, with a huge cast of characters and a sweeping milieu. Instead of the Civil War, what we have is a troupe of 1830s French theatrical performers whose distinctly fatalistic point of view mirror that of the 1940s French. I found it fascinating and lovely, but the extreme length and frou-frou flavor were like nails on a chalkboard for the s.o. Personally, just watching the subtle expressions on actor Jean-Louis Barrault’s face was enough for me.
The Simpsons: The Complete Ninth Season. Although I swore I’d stop buying the Simpsons DVDs after season 8 (heck, I swore to stop at season 7), I couldn’t resist when a used copy popped up at a good price on a recent shopping trip. This season contains a handful of still hilarious episodes, but it’s clear that 1997-98 was the year the show downshifted from classic sitcom to pedestrian Fox franchise. The revelation that Skinner was a fake in The Principal and the Pauper signaled a harbinger for the show’s current, desperate form — and listening to the ultra-smug commentary for that episode makes it clear that the writers have their collective heads up their own asses. On a different note: I absolutely love the package design on this volume, with each DVD designed to look like a cheeky vintage record label. Real classy.
Something To Sing About (1937). This fluffy and forgettable low budget musical would have vanished into thin air were it not for the magnetic James Cagney in the lead. As a bandleader turned movie star, he’s a joy to watch. Because he didn’t get to do many of the musicals he so craved, Cagney tears into this role with invigorating gusto. As for the rest, from shrill and boring Evelyn Daw as Cagney’s wife to a strange little shipboard catfight scene … well, it made for a pleasant diversion while attempting to wake up last weekend.
The Young In Heart (1938). I think it’s pretty cool that Turner Classic Movies did a prime time night dedicated to Janet Gaynor last week, don’t you? This one, a lush David O. Selznick production, served as Miss Gaynor’s last starring role before going into an early retirement. This is more accurately an ensemble piece, with attractive cast making up for the film’s ho-hum script. Gaynor plays the daughter in a family of con artists headed by Roland Young and the priceless Billie Burke as the parents and Douglas Fairbanks Jr. as the brother. Salty Paulette Goddard and a gorgeous young Richard Carlson play love interests; stage actress Minnie Dupree is really good as the family’s victim, Miss Fortune. That cast and the wonderful production design by William Cameron Menzies almost make up for the predictable to the extreme story. Love that streamline moderne car.
Happy Anniversary
The new Two Bunnies and a Duck posted today is dedicated to my loving partner. For it was fourteen years ago tomorrow that we first met. Thank you for entering my life, Christopher!
Oh the Humanity
I’m thinking about starting a regular video post here every Wednesday — sort of like what Mark Evanier does, only with 1/100th of his audience. It makes sense, since I come across so much intriguing stuff on YouTube and elsewhere. Today we have a clip from what many believe is the nadir of Peanuts specials, It’s Flashbeagle, Charlie Brown. Somebody thought it would be a good idea having a breakdancing Franklin and Snoopy outfitted in headband and leg warmers trolling the disco like sleazy Euro-gigolos. A thumping, generic song plays on the soundtrack, but I believe buried in the mix you can hear the sound of Charles M. Schulz turning in his grave … which is amazing considering he wouldn’t die for another sixteen years. Check it out.
Weekly Mishmash: November 9-15
The Bigamist (1953). I had modest expectations for this melodrama, among the earliest of Ida Lupino’s directorial efforts. Ida also stars, alongside Joan Fontaine and a solid Edmund O’Brien as the title character. The bigamy situation is actually handled with a lot of sensitivity, with good and sympathetic performances all around. If only O’Brien’s bigamy wasn’t revealed so early (and the movie had a different title), the film would have had much more effective dramatic thrust. I wonder how the Production Code handled this — adultery is a no-no, but apparently bigamy is okay? Hmmm.
Blow-Up (1966). I think this is the second or third viewing for me; the first for Christopher. One of my favorite movies from the ’60s. Antonioni’s exuberant stylishness makes up for the fact that the film doesn’t really go anywhere for long stretches at a time. Furthermore, every scene involving mimes is so embarrassing that it makes me wince just writing about them (I don’t know if they’re true mimes, since true mimes don’t talk. Discuss this important topic at your own leisure.). Despite that, this is a quintessentially sixties experience that everyone should have at least once. Let’s give it up for the scene where David Hemmings bullies around a bunch of fashion models:
Cagney by John McCabe. A book that I’ve had for a good ten years or so, but never got around to reading until now. Why? This is a definitive bio of one of my faves. McCabe does a good job of both illuminating Cagney’s onscreen performances and explaining all the complexities of his personality (if only he didn’t rely so much on long, long quotes). Cagney was a street kid who aspired to be a song and dance man like Fred Astaire, a faithful and loving husband who sequestered his two children in their own separate living quarters, and a famous actor who found his deepest fulfillment in farming. A very interesting man, I’d say.
The End of Suburbia (2004). Although scattershot and cheaply produced, this was a pretty good documentary on how American’s addiction to fossil fuels and the outdated concept of suburban living is slowly destroying our society. Although I enjoyed it, at times the film verged into territory of stereotypically liberal hysteria — which damaged its credibility. Even so, I couldn’t shake the central message that Americans will have to make some hard lifestyle sacrifices to even survive another 50 or 100 years. Uplifting, eh?
Janet Jackson — Control. Like Thriller, another classic goodie that I snagged on Amazon for a song (sorry, couldn’t resist). This album sits right where R&B music sounded appealingly ’80s without getting too obnoxious and New Jack Swingy. To be honest, I’m more interested in further exploring Miss Jackson’s obscure first two albums (1982’s Janet Jackson and 1984’s Dream Street) than any of the slick and mega successful stuff that followed.
The Visitor (2008). Absorbing film about an economics professor (Richard Jenkins) whose dull life is turned around by a young couple who are unknowingly squatting in his NYC apartment. I wasn’t surprised to find that Thomas McCartney wrote the screenplay and directed, since it shares a lyrical quality with his previous film, The Station Agent. What drives this film is a fantastically compelling story (we watched it in one sitting, rare for us) in which even the smallest characters resonate vividly. Richard Jenkins deserves an Oscar nomination, and I loved the attractive Haaz Sleiman as the Syrian musician who teaches Jenkins to loosen up.
Sanka Very Much
Recently I was delighted to get an email from one of my illustration heroes, José Cruz. It turns out that he runs an excellent blog, X-FACTOR-E, and is still doing artwork in that uniquely geometric style that first wowed me back in the in the ’80s. Check out his flickr photostream for examples. And, oh yeah, I want this print!
Here’s the 1972 Sanka coffee ad that Mr. Cruz inquired about. Thanks to him, I now know it’s the work of Charles E. White III. I just love this retro cartoony style.
Baby Baby, Ooh Baby Baby
The December Vanity Fair contains a fascinating oral history of Motown records — a good read for casual fans. It’s a bit sketchy for someone like me, but I did enjoy Annie Leibovitz’s accompanying photos of various Motown greats looking happy and relaxed. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, a fulfilling way to get into the pioneering label’s history would be to listen to everything they released chronologically on Hip-O Select’s Complete Motown Singles box sets. I just loaded up iTunes with all six discs from the 1965 volume, and hearing the big hits next to unfamiliar obscurities and weird forays into Country and Easy Listening really paints a vivid picture of where this one-of-a-kind company was at that particular time (Smokey Robinson was the man in ‘65).
Soda Review: Kickapoo Joy Juice
Manufactured by California-based Real Soda, Kickapoo Joy Juice is a citrusy concoction named after the potent brew from Al Capp’s classic Lil Abner comic strip. I was hoping that this would taste like a primitive version of Mountain Dew, a soda originally marketed with a similar hillbilly theme. In that respect, it didn’t disappoint. Although grapefruit juice numbers among this soda’s ingredients, the insanely sweet flavor ought to be classified more by color than by whatever food it resembles. Drinking it brought on a nostalgic memory of sipping acid green Mister Misty slushes at the local Dairy Queen. Yeah, they called the flavor “lime” but we all knew that the proper name for it was “green” and nothing else!
Weekly Mishmash: November 2-8
All the President’s Men (1976). Great movie that I’d never seen before. This was a remarkable view of the Watergate scandal from the media coverage side — which doesn’t tell the definitive story, but it is an illuminating angle nonetheless. Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford truly drive the film as Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward. Aspiring journalists should check this out right away, and people who dig the look of 1970s office furniture (possibly only myself) will have a field day.
House by the River (1950). Dull Fritz Lang film about an aspiring writer from the early 1900s, played by Louis Hayward, who kills a household servant in a fit of passion. Hayward and his brother (Lee Bowman) spend the rest of the film trying to cover up the crime with middling results. Despite Lang’s directing credit, there was really nothing interesting or unusual about this movie — it plods along like a glorified TV drama, and Hayward is too over-the-top to make any lasting impact.
Point Blank (1967). One wild ride. I can see why this John Boorman-directed crime thriller is a bit of a cult item. The dazzling visuals and editing are ahead of their time, and Lee Marvin delivers a meaty performance as a stone-faced hit man driven to get his share of an unpaid debt. One thing that really popped about this film is the striking use of color, especially scenes where the set is mostly variants on one color. The apartment of Marvin’s ex-wife is nothing but white and silver, Angie Dickinson’s place is awash in yellow, while the office of the evil boss is nearly all olive green. At its core, this is a stylish but incomprehensible b-movie — but I’d have to agree with the IMDb reviewer who headlined his piece “Kind of confusing but exciting.”
Rick and Steve – The Complete First Season. This show, described as a gay South Park, was a pleasant surprise. It combines appealing, lego-like stop motion animation with primary colors and a smutty sense of humor. Episodes vary, but the scripts all have the know-how for mocking the stereotypes of LGBT life without wallowing in them. The second season premiere airs this week on the Logo channel. I wish I had the Logo channel.
Rollercoaster (1977). Somewhat fun, somewhat overlong thriller notable for being one of the few films (besides Earthquake) to use the very of-its-time gimmick of Sensurround. This movie is decidedly more low-key than the other ’70s disaster flicks, at times gaining a nice intensity missing from its campier brethren. Early on, there’s one good set piece with a coaster accident sending bloody dummies flying everywhere — after that it settles into a tired cat-and-mouse game with George Segal pursuing psycho bomber Timothy Bottoms. Scenes with the two tramping through Virginia’s Kings Dominion theme park play like a kinky version of that one Brady Bunch episode. The one where Mike’s architectural drawings got mixed up with Jan’s Yogi Bear poster, remember? I kept hoping one of the Bradys would pop up in the background somewhere.
Goldie, Liza and Matt — Together Again!
Okay, now that the election is over we have to go back to the really important issue at hand — namely, sharing goofy old TV clips. Today’s offering is the intro from 1980’s Goldie and Liza Together. I have dim memories of watching this at my aunt and uncle’s house, while the adults were outside having a patio party (I’m sure the parents would have had a conniption if they found out). Re-viewing the entire thing on YouTube makes me realize how nicely produced this particular special was. Goldie Hawn has a surprisingly good singing voice, and Liza Minnelli is her own fabulous self — two things that are very evident in the opening number alone:
Travel A Go-Go
Dive into the world of David Klein, illustrator of classic ’60s TWA travel posters and many other things (via Quartz City). Although Klein never settled on a particular style, it looks like he excelled at whatever look he wanted.
New Day
Wow, history in the making. Arianna Huffington’s election postmortem sums up how I feel right now. Elated, relieved, full of pride yet cautiously optimistic. Watching Obama’s victory speech last night was a truly moving experience. Very inclusive, but what impressed me most was his acknowledgment that it takes work — on everyone’s part — to have effective and long lasting change for the better. As it ended, I heard Christopher say with a choke in his voice that Michelle will make a great First Lady. He had tears in his eyes. That made up for the small disappointments on the Arizona side that our electoral college unsurprisingly picked McCain (albeit by a smallish margin), and the discriminatory Prop 102 passed.
So now what? I think I’m just gonna relax and follow some of Slate’s suggestions on how to kill time now that the election’s over.
Weekly Mishmash: October 26 – November 1
Chicago 10 (Independent Lens, PBS). Provocative 2007 documentary uses animation and newsreel footage to reconstruct the trial of the Chicago Seven, “Yippies” accused of inciting riots outside the 1968 Democratic National Convention. Except for the clumsy animation and obtrusive soundtrack, this was a well done film overall. I was amazed at how much news footage and/or home movies of the events the filmmakers found and weaved throughout the film. The scenes with self-absorbed lead Yippie Abbie Hoffman calling a radio deejay were a nice bonus.
Cop Hater (1958). Guess I was in a tawdry, low budget cop movie mood when this one showed up on Turner Classic Movies. Robert Loggia stars as a guy’s guy detective assigned to investigate a series of police slayings during New York City’s hottest summer. A standard plotline directed with all the panache of a live TV production, sure, but this movie has enough unusual elements to recommend it. For one, the hero’s girlfriend is a deaf mute, the serial killer aspect dates back early enough to be a novelty, and the heatwave setting requires most of the cast to lounge around in their skivvies. Real seedy (dig that poster!). The unfamiliarity of the cast is another real asset. A young and unknown Jerry Orbach just radiates grit as a teenage hood, for instance.
Michael Jackson — Thriller and Curtis Mayfield — Roots. Good week to take advantage of competing mp3 download services — iTunes proffered Thriller for only $4.98, while the 99 cent Roots was worth taking a chance over at Amazon. I’ve never heard Thriller before, since the album’s still jaw-dropping seven hit singles had already burned on my brain for a good 25 years. It’s a solid piece; even the two lesser known LP cuts (”Lady In My Life” and “Baby Be Mine”) are competent bits of early ’80s smooth R&B. But it’s the magnificently claustrophobic “Billie Jean,” the rockin’ “Beat It,” the smooth “Human Nature,” the funky “P.Y.T.” and the epic title tune that make it an album for the ages (”The Girl Is Mine” I can take or leave). Curtis Mayfield’s second album, 1971’s Roots, was another delight. Although the tracks tend to run a bit long, the entire album is suffused with a warm and cautiously optimistic “black is beautiful” spirit.
The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll (1960) and Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964). Two Hammer horror films from the early ’60s, both filled with gorgeous color photography and horrid acting, made for our Halloween entertainment. Two Faces was the slightly better of the two, with a barely adequate Paul Massie doing an unusual take on Jekyll/Hyde (Dr. Jekyll is a hiristute dullard, while Mr. Hyde is a clean-shaven and magnetic stud). Faring better were Dawn Addams as a fetching Mrs. Jekyll and a surprisingly sexy Christopher Lee as her wastrel paramour. Lots of dull padding weighs down this movie, but I was transfixed by the totally artificial Victorian London revealed in the film’s wild photography, costumes and sets. The hokey Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb had nothing at all to recommend it.
Vigil in the Night (1940). The one with Carole Lombard as a nurse trying to make do in a horrible British hospital. She comes across moderately well, often succumbing to the same Excess Nobility Disease that afflicted Norma Shearer in The Women. Character actress Ethel Griffies, strong as Lombard’s nurse matron, wound up making a memorable appearance as a bird expert in Hitchcock’s The Birds 23 years later.
