Pop Cultures
Mental Floss magazine explores the origins of our favorite Muppets (via Pop Culture Junk Mail). Lots of interesting tidbits that I never knew there.
Also, how happy am I that Pepsi is planning “throwback” versions of Pepsi and Mountain Dew containing genuine sugar sweetening (not icky high fructose corn syrup). This also comes via Pop Culture Junk Mail — Gael is on a roll! More info here; April can’t come fast enough.
Insomniac Theatre
Today’s video comes courtesy of the onetime USA Network staple Night Flight. This, children, was compulsive viewing for people who suddenly realized it’s 1:15 a.m. on a Friday night and you spent the last two hours of your pathetic existence watching Bambi vs. Godzilla and some freaky-ass French movie from the ’70s about space aliens (guilty as charged).
Oscars: 20 for 24
Every year, Christopher and I have our own little Academy Awards predictions contest. Last night’s ceremonies were my own personal best, where I successfully predicted 20 out of 24 winners. The only categories I missed were Foreign Language Film (who saw Japan coming?), Documentary Short (pretty much a crapshoot every year), Sound Mixing (thought The Dark Knight would sweep the sound categories), and Art Direction (went out on a limb and predicted The Duchess). Christopher, who usually beats me at these things, will have to eat humble pie tonight. I voted differently in Kris’ sock monkey contest, where I only got 9 of 12 right.
As for the TV broadcast of the awards: I love the acting nominations being presented by five previous winners. It’s a novel idea that could have been mawkish in execution, but they pulled it off in a heartfelt way. Hugh Jackman was a pretty good host, loved his enthusiasm. But that hyper number with overexposed Beyoncé? Ouch!
Weekly Mishmash: February 15-21
Changeling (2008). Angelina Jolie in the true story of Christine Collins, a single mother who returned from work to find her nine year-old son missing. Collins underwent more indignity when the police tried to replace the abducted boy with an impostor. This was a fascinating film that, although not breaking any new ground, told its story in an absorbing way that recalled L.A. Confidential in my eyes. Clint Eastwood’s direction is crisp and matter-of-fact, and the art direction/costuming is perfectly evocative of 1920s Los Angeles. Jolie approaches the role as a typical, somewhat meek woman thrown into extraordinary circumstances. It’s the kind of thing that Olivia De Haviland would’ve aced in the ’40s, and she’s very good (not Oscar Award-winning good, however) — as were John Malkovich and Amy Ryan in supporting roles. My only complaint is that the acting overall came across as too histrionic, needing some toning down.
The Horse’s Mouth (1958). A lightweight British comedy redeemed by Alec Guiness’ unforgettable performance an irascible, gravelly voiced artist. This is a cute, shrill film bursting with noisiness and slapstick. I enjoyed the timeless angle of the painter who has to deal with silly rich folk to survive, however. For that and Guiness, one paintbrush up.
The Independent Spirit Awards (IFC). The Oscars need to take a page from these awards, which year after year wind up being so much more casual and fun. This year’s host Steve Coogan I could honestly take or leave (I’m Alan Partridge was such a weird, unappealing show). But free-flowing alcohol, unadulterated potty mouths and goofy song parodies do it every time.
Lured (1948). Standard Douglas Sirk-directed melodrama is an mildly entertaining showcase for Lucille Ball, looking fabulous. An American showgirl in London, Ball goes undercover for Scotland Yard after her friend becomes the latest in a string of mysteriously killed women — lured to their deaths by newspaper personals. Could suave George Sanders be the murderer, with Ball in his sights as the next victim? Lucy proved herself quite capable here in strict leading lady mode, with a few offbeat comedic touches for good measure. The film is worth checking out for her alone, and to contemplate where her career might have gone had My Favorite Husband and I Love Lucy not happened. Except for a supremely odd turn by Boris Karloff as a demented dress designer, however, this film is too dull and predictable to completely recommend.
Oldboy (2003). I initially added this wild Korean thriller on my Netflix queue after noticing that a neighbor friend adding it to his. He later rated the film one star out of five. Another Netflix friend rated it five out of five — divisive territory here, folks. After being imprisoned in a badly wallpapered room for fifteen years, a man (excellently played by Min Sik-choi) takes on a twisted revenge scheme, falling for a mysterious girl and eating a live octopus in the process. The story is okay enough, unfolding with a barrage of intriguing twists. The real appeal here is how Chan-wook Park directs with a stunning visual audacity that recalls efforts like Fight Club, Requiem for a Dream and Trainspotting. Even if it doesn’t quite hit the heights of those three films, for sheer balls I award it four stars. Special note: this review is dedicated to the poor octopus who sacrificed itself for filmic immortality. A moment of silence, please.
Pilot Error
Last weekend, I bought something called Unsold TV Pilots at a used book sale — a totally absorbing look at various shows that (as of 1991, when the book came out) were produced but never developed into full-run network series. Paging through this book is like looking into an alternate universe of what TV might have been like in the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s. For those unfamiliar with the concept of TV pilots, a Wikipedia quote sums it up nicely:
A television pilot is a test episode of an intended television series. It is an early step in the development of a television series, much like pilot lights or pilot studies serve as precursors to the start of larger activity, or pilot holes prepare the way for larger holes. Networks use pilots to discover whether an entertaining concept can be successfully realized. After seeing this sample of the proposed product, networks will then determine whether the expense of additional episodes is justified. They are best thought of as prototypes of the show that is to follow, because elements often change from pilot to series. Variety estimates that only a little over a quarter of all pilots made for American television succeed to the series stage, although the figure may be even lower.
In other words, what we’re dealing with here is TV Land’s sloppy seconds. While it’s no surprise why derivative things like Steel Collar Man or Ebony Ivory & Jade never flew, occasionally shows have been done that turn out too costly or conceptually strange to get fleshed out into a full series. Bette Davis’ 1965 sitcom The Decorator fits in this category. The idea of Bette diva-ing it up as an Auntie Mameish interior decorator (with Mary Wickes as her sardonic assistant) sounds too irresistible to believe, but from the clip below the execution is a bit plodding. Still, I would have loved to have seen where this character could have gone had the show been picked up. Parts two and three of the pilot are also on YouTube. Thank goodness for the internet!
Color Me Intrigued
Things I Didn’t Know Dept.: in 1967, animation legends Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera created a pilot for an anthology series called The World-Color It Happy. Check out the opening credits below, and wonder how something with Woody Allen amongst its writers and a nifty theme song written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David never caught on with TV execs. Strangely, Hanna’s autobiography doesn’t say a word about this project. Where’s the rest of it?
Weekly Mishmash: February 8-14
The Eel (1997). Slow moving but thoughtful film from famed Japanese director Shohei Imamura (Vengeance Is Mine). Kôji Yakusho, who memorably starred in the original version of Shall We Dance?, plays a similarly meek fellow here — only this time his character is a criminal who is trying to rebuild his life after stabbing his wife to death. Yakusho creates a nice atmosphere of a small seaside town filled with eccentrics, but the story doesn’t really go anywhere rewarding and the central metaphor of the title creature (which is a cherished pet of Yakusho’s) is too heavy handed. For those willing to overlook those flaws, it’s a semi-rewarding drama peppered with some unexpectedly delightful comic elements.
Marty (1955). Speaking of unexpected pleasures. This was another vintage Best Picture that I’d never seen, so I decided to TiFaux one of TCM’s zillion showings lately. For an Oscar winner this is an awfully small and modest movie, but it’s also so beautifully played that I believe it completely deserved its accolades (strangely enough, this is one of the few films to be awarded both Best Picture and the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival). Paddy Chayefsky’s perceptive script had gotten a prior television production, but this film doesn’t feel like an expanded TV play. Filming on the streets of New York give it a gritty realism, and I loved Ernest Borgnine and Betsy Blair’s understated performances (yeah, Borgnine is actually subtle in this!). Although I wouldn’t say it’s perfect, I’m happy that I finally got to see this one.
No Way Out (1950). A hard-hitting noirish melodrama that hits the mark, despite a script that ventures into smug self-congratulation. A reliably skeevy Richard Widmark plays a bigoted criminal who gets his panties in a bunch when the only doctor who can treat him and his brother is black (Sidney Poitier in his first film role). This is an absorbing story with some great supporting turns, especially Linda Darnell as a woman caught between the two sides. I liked how this film employed a lot of African American actors in blessedly non-demeaning parts. The frequent use of the n-word is jarring even today; and there are a lot of good, tense scenes along the way with a surprisingly assured Poitier. Heavy-handed for sure, but really good “message” cinema all the same.
Pet Shop Boys — Bilingual: Further Listening 1995-1997. This is my music purchase for the week, which was fetched on eBay for only a dollar. While this 1996 release pales in comparison to its predecessor Very, I found it enjoyable with only a few missteps (”Electricity” among them). Dancey and Latin-influenced, this is probably their gayest outing ever — which likely accounts for why it didn’t sell as well in the U.S. and elsewhere. The album gets off to a great start with the percussive one-two punch of “Discotecha” and “Single.” Supported with a fun Bruce Weber-directed video, “Se A Vida E” was the duo’s last stab at the kind of classic hook-filled pop tune they did best. “To Step Aside” is another good one, helped along by exotic handclaps and a mysterious sample of children chanting. The second disc is padded out with remixes and such, but PSB is one of the few artists to have worthwhile b-sides to go with their topline material — so I’d say this was a dollar well spent!
So Dear To My Heart (1948). Like Song of the South, this is one of those lesser-known but totally charming older efforts that Disney doesn’t seem very interested in promoting. Luckily I was able to obtain this DVD through Disney’s Movie Rewards program, so at least it’s not totally unavailable like the controversial SotS. Think of this as SotS without the racial business — it even has the same star (Bobby Driscoll), the same corny nostalgia, the same midwestern earnestness that Walt Disney himself loved. The movie opens with an impressive animated sequence where ornate turn-of-the-century postcards morph into each other. After that, we get the predictable tale of farm boy Driscoll raising a black sheep with Beulah Bondi as his disapproving granny. Burl Ives is around, too, but strangely the kid’s parents are nowhere to be found (so much for family values). This film also has a more religious slant than what’s usually found in Disney fare, which might be why it’s not as heavily promoted, but the message is so sweet and underplayed that even I was won over. This was one adorable little movie, perfect for the whole family, which is more than I can say for …
Won Ton Ton, The Dog Who Saved Hollywood (1976). I’ve been curious about this for at least twenty years now, mostly because it contains cameos from a bevy of “old school” movie stars (many of whom made their ignominious final bows here). Well, now my curiosity is satisfied — and I’m glad I don’t have to see that again. This is one slop pile of a movie, choppily directed with Madeleine Kahn and Bruce Dern completely wasted in the leads. What’s supposed to be nostalgic and evocative of ’20s Hollywood winds so shoddy looking it appears to have been filmed in a dusty antique shop — with actors to match. Morbidly fascinating to be sure, but p.u.! Even the dog sucked.
Ifs, Ands or Buttons
I’m kinda slow on this one, but wanted to write about it here just the same. The marketing team behind Coraline sent 50 unique boxes to 50 fortunate bloggers as a genius promotional gambit. Here’s a roundup (via Ironic Sans, who received box #40). The boxes appear lovingly assembled and have the same creepy/cool aesthetic as the film (which I haven’t seen yet). Needless to say, I’m jealous!
Oh, and have you seen the limited edition Nike Coraline Dunk?
P.S. — Another roundup.
Tomato Dish
Here’s Veronica Lake auditioning for sleazy Laird Cregor in This Gun’s For Hire (1942). The first two minutes of this clip comprise one of those “what the fuck?” moments that made me fall in love with classic moviedom. Lake’s singing voice is obviously dubbed and the tune is a campy throwaway (Lauren Bacall had a similar bit in To Have And Have Not; lip-syncing must have been a job requirement for saucy young actresses back then). By the end, however, I’m totally charmed. Film noir needed more cute and inappropriate musical numbers, don’t you agree?
Got You Covered
A weblog of artists redrawing old comic book covers (via Drawn! of course). Interesting how many of the artists choose not to significantly alter the originals.
Weekly Mishmash: February 1-7
Artists & Models (1937). One of those “only in the thirties” movies in which grandiose and bizarre musical numbers are hung on a thread of a plot. The charms of Jack Benny as an ad man and Ida Lupino (still a few years from her “tough dame” persona) as his model friend are often enough to overcome the disjointed silliness of this film. Although TCM’s showing blacked out the first ten minutes, there was plenty else to enjoy — I loved the sequence with various famous illustrators of the day such as Peter Arno and Rube Goldberg. There’s also a strange marionette dance with the Esquire magazine mascot, and a slow number in which singer Connee Boswell’s face is unaccountably shrouded in darkness. I haven’t mentioned that hick comedienne Judy Canova lends comedic support, or the fact that Martha Raye performs in tan makeup alongside Louis Armstrong. Too fun.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains (1981). Fascinating but ineptly made rock ‘n roll pic about a girl group’s rise to fame. Nubile Diane Lane leads The Stains, a trio whose raggedy music sounds like the halfway point between The Runaways and The Shaggs. On tour, they spout off anarchist messages while gaining a following of young ladies who ironically make over themselves to look like clones of their idols. A cool concept, sure, but it’s marred by an awful script and shoddy direction. Seriously, there are too many “huh?” moments to count here, which probably account for this film’s cult following. It is worth a peek, however for the many cast members who went on to bigger and better things (Laura Dern, Christine Lahti and a baby-faced Ray Winstone are all very good; Lane is merely okay). The final sequence, in which the (implicitly successful) Stains make an MTV-style video, almost makes up for the shortcomings of the preceding 80 minutes.
Ladies of Leisure (1930). This quaint antique would likely be forgotten if it weren’t for a spunky Barbara Stanwyck in the lead. In this, she plays a tough cookie who becomes a model for a rich playboy artist (Ralph Graves). Predictable as all get out and Frank Capra’s direction is surprisingly clunky; but this film proves that Stanwyck had a winning charisma about her almost right from the very beginning (this was only her third film). I also enjoyed Marie Prevost, an actress best known for meeting an untimely end, as Stanwyck’s plump pal.
The Prisoner of Shark Island (1936). Pretty good but not exceptional film about Samuel Mudd, the doctor who treated John Wilkes Booth the night he assassinated Abraham Lincoln. Warner Baxter plays Mudd with a scenery-chewing gusto which likely should have netted him an Oscar nomination. In a hasty and panicked sentencing, Mudd is sent to the unforgiving Dry Tortugas prison off Key West, Florida — a place where he’d have no chance to appeal his conviction. A historically iffy but interesting story.
Skipping Towards Gomorrah: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Pursuit of Happiness in America by Dan Savage. Being a rabid fan of his weekly sex advice column and podcast, I checked this one out from the library as a diversion between more weighty books. Savage’s examination of current American mores, organized by way of the classic seven deadly sins, brims with the same offbeat humor as his other work. Although this was first published in 2002, giving it the whiff of Bush-era indignation, a lot of the book seemed pretty timely even today. Given Michael Phelps’ recent troubles, Savage’s even-handed look at current marijuana laws was fascinating. I also found myself agreeing way too many times at Savage’s “gay pride” chapter (really, why make a huge deal out of something that we’re born with?), and the opening rant on holier-than-thou conservative pundits was priceless. While it’s true that some chapters were more succinct than others, the entire book never fails to be breezy and thought-provoking.
Soda Review: Jarritos Jamaica
Nestled in the Hispanic foods section, my local Safeway stocks a tasty little display of Mexican bottled sodas made by a company called Jarritos. As soon as I spotted these popular drinks sitting there with their rainbow colors, I knew I had to try a couple. Already familiar with the Mexican preference for hyper-sweet everything, I knew that the strawberry variety would be delicious and I wasn’t let down. For my second bottle, I decided to go more exotic and try the jamaica flavor. How can you resist a soda named after a country? This jamaica, it turns out, is an indigenous Mexican plant. The soda derives its flavor from a hibiscus-like flower known elsewhere as Roselle. Right away I was attracted to the pleasing cranberry red of this soda. Flavor-wise, what it most tastes like is — wait for it — prune juice, with a little bit of a tea-like earthiness. The sweetness of pure cane sugar overwhelms the flavor a bit, leaving a lingering aftertaste. Overall, I actually enjoyed it. As an occasional sweet treat, this soda was muy bueno in my book.
Double Vision
Did you know that Henry Fonda did View-Master commercials? Neither did I until I saw a link to this 1971 ad on the Television Without Pity forums. Watch and wonder a) why GAF picked Fonda as a family-friendly pitchman so soon after he played an evil gunslinger in Once Upon a Time in the West, b) how Jodie Foster was so freakin’ precocious back then, and c) is that Peter Brady?
Another one… apparently in addition to making ViewMaster reels, GAF also produced vinyl flooring. Brady Bunch fans might recognize the actress playing opposite Fonda — she’s the same lady who played flaky “cousin Myrna” in the episode where the Bradys appear in a soap commercial!
See the Movie, Read the Book
I can’t help but be impressed by the person who designed and illustrated “I Can Read Movies”, which visualizes what some movies would look like if they were tie-in paperbacks published in the ’60s. Complete with geometric graphics, spot color, and cover wear, they’re all spot-on and funny. (thanks Nick!)
Animals, Animals, Everywhere
Okay, remember the original David Klein artwork that we purchased at auction last year? I’ve finally managed to assemble scans of everything we got into a groovy little flickr set. In the late ’60s, Klein created the art for an advertising campaign by First National City Bank of New York (later Citibank). The set contains some pencil and cut acetate studies for the campaign, along with three examples of final art from the ads themselves. Christopher spent a pretty penny for these, but it was totally worth it — especially the cut acetate studies pictured below. Just look at how those colors pop!
