Weekly Mishmash: February 21-27
Patti Austin – Gettin’ Away With Murder. A delightful mid-’80s R&B album downloaded off eMusic, this set showcases the impressive pipes of Patti Austin and the nascent style of producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis in total elegance. I was surprised at how good this album was, and it holds up better today than similar R&B albums from the same year (1985) put out by the much famouser likes of Aretha Franklin and Stevie Wonder. I think the key to its success is Austin herself, who approaches this album like a super polished jazz singer trying out a different style on a lark. Her warm singing complements the sparkling Jam/Lewis production style well, highlighted on the semi-hit “The Heat of Heat.” From what I gather, a few other producers worked on this LP but it has a nice, consistent tone despite covering both balladry (”Summer Is The Coldest Time Of Year”) and the dancefloor (”Honey For The Bees,” previously recorded by Alison Moyet). Excellent. Throw in Austin’s perky 1981 single “Every Home Should Have One” and you have a bona fide party.
The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). Thanks to TCM, here’s another film to cross off the “Best Picture winners I haven’t seen” list. This was a very good, compelling widescreen actioner firmly in the tradition of David Lean’s other wide screen o-rama epics (Lawrence of Arabia, and the as yet unseen by yours truly Doctor Zhivago). William Holden, Alec Guinness and Sessue Hayakawa make for a formidable leading trio, the bridge itself is impressive as all get out, and there are many beautiful shots of the Sri Lankan jungles that seem tailor made for the big screen (those bats!). On a sour note I was spoiled ahead of time by the ending — heck, it’s even pictured on the friggin’ DVD box design — but nonetheless I had a good time getting there. In the next few weeks I will be watching another big Best Picture, 1968’s Oliver!, but I have a feeling it won’t be as splendid as this one.
Compulsion (1958). Good, not great, courtroom drama based on the infamous Leopold and Loeb trial of the ’20s. The names are changed and several incidents are made-up, but the film follows the same basic story of two arrogant college students (Dean Stockwell and Bradford Dillman) who become media sensations as they are tried for the cold blooded murder of a child. Orson Welles plays their Clarence Darrow substitute defense lawyer. This is a standard ’50s melodrama made more interesting if one has some background on the real Leopold and Loeb case. The film adds an unnecessary romantic subplot involving classmates of the two men (played by Diane Varsi and Martin Milner) and suffers from Hayes Code restrictions, but otherwise it is a competently made drama. The filmmakers had to make many adjustments so the film wouldn’t be pure docudrama, but the few accurate bits that made it through (recreating a famous courtroom photo of the duo, for example) make it a diverting enough watch for true crime buffs.
Drunken Angel (1948). An early Akira Kurasawa/Toshiro Mifune collaboration (their first, actually), quite satisfying if not in the same league as Stray Dog. In a showy supporting role, Mifune plays a hot-headed Yazuka gangster who unwillingly has to consult with doctor Takashi Shimura when his failing health chips away on the stranglehold he has over the depressing little hamlet he controls. Kurosawa keeps things nicely controlled and effectively gives a sense of the desperation of the varied city dwellers in this film, including several heavy-handed shots of the bubbling, trash-strewn bog that the men pass by on a daily basis. Shimura does a great job as the frustrated doctor, and Mifune is simply amazing to watch as he slowly transforms into a gaunt, crazed mental case. Great ending, too. I was happy to find my fave scene from this film on YouTube, a wacky musical moment starring (apparently) the Japanese equivalent of Betty Hutton:
The Eye (2002). After an operation to restore her sight, a girl (Angelica Lee) can now see the dead. That simple premise forms the backbone for this scary Asian movie, which among scary Asian movies ranks below Ju-On (The Grudge) or Ringu but far above any of the crass American remakes of the same (including this one, which got a re-do in 2008 with Jessica Alba). This one has its share of shudder-inducing moments, and its scares come from nicely low-tech methods — only the climactic scene set on a busy street uses modern CGI. The film gets a bit poky and dialogue-heavy at times, but both of us enjoyed it. I appreciated the fact that the female lead wasn’t as passive as other Asian horror leads which tend toward the hyper-wimpy. An effectively creepy and subdued film, unlike our next selection…
Paranormal Activity (2004). This mico-budgeted scare flick became the surprise hit of 2009 in true Blair Witch fashion, but overall I found it kind of “meh”. This film follows a young woman (Katie Featherson) who is fearful that the mysterious spirit that haunted her in childhood has come back to roost in the San Diego home of her boyfriend (Micah Sloat). The skeptical guy decides to videotape them as they sleep in an effort to catch the punking ghostie on camera. This really amounts to being a glorified home movie with so-so acting and few scares. Most annoying is the fact that the film never leaves the house, an ugly cookie-cutter manse filled with terrible furniture (perhaps the ghost is Sam Walton, thanking the couple for their many Wal-Mart purchases). This is also another one of those movies in which the characters are always doing stupid things for no apparent reason. For example, the girl begs the guy not to get a ouija board, and in the next scene he’s holding a ouija board. Stay away!
Splendor in the Grass (1961). Another TCM “31 Days of Oscar” netting, Elia Kazan’s soapy yet engrossing tale of young lust was another one of those films on my to-see list. Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty play teenagers in 1920s Kansas grappling with their feelings for each other amidst leering classmates and judgmental family members. This was a nicely played, interesting film despite feeling like an inferior knockoff of Kazan’s East of Eden. The leads are very attractive and talented, which really helps when the film gets bogged down in soapy theatrics in its second half. Despite all that, it is a very evocative and well-played film right up to the bittersweet finale.
They’re Fantastic, Made ‘o Plastic
Just finished scanning and uploading a bunch of random imagery for my Ephemera, Ads Ads Ads and Cool Vintage Illustration flickr sets. A few came from a Modern Plastics magazine annual from 1966 that C. recently acquired — including this lovely ad for Plexiglas (one ’s’ thank you). These also went into the Vintage Industry flickr group. Ephemeral fun for all!
Special FX (’90s Edition)
Today’s videos are artifacts from the dorky yet lovable early years of Fox’s FX cable channel. These promos date from when the network went under the tagline “TV Made Fresh Daily,” broadcasting a variety of shows from their funky studios in New York City. Although you might recognize a few faces that later went on to better things (Tom Bergeron, Jeff Probst), mostly the channel was a low-key affair staffed by friendly guy- and girl-next-door types. I think Fox meant it to feel like a bunch of your friends got together and put on a show. Sandwiched between reruns of Batman and Mission: Impossible, the channel’s slate of original programs covered a variety of subjects. My own favorite was Personal FX, the antiques and collectibles show. I was a regular viewer despite the fact that it was hosted by a complete airhead (Claire Carter) who knew nothing about antiques and collectibles. At least co-host John Burke brought on the hunk appeal. Burke later hosted on the pre-acronym American Movie Classics, and recently I was surprised to find him in a commercial endorsing some kind of back pain gadget.
Of course, FX is now a powerhouse network with acclaimed series like Damages and Nip/Tuck on their schedule — but guess what? I never watch them. I actually prefer the old, dorky FX. Some things actually work better if they haven’t been mass marketed and focus tested to death.
Bill, When Are You Coming Back?
In Looking for Calvin and Hobbes: The Unconventional Story of Bill Watterson and His Revolutionary Comic Strip, Nevin Martell sets himself up with the impossible task of tracking down someone notorious for being more fame-averse than Greta Garbo and J.D. Salinger combined. I won’t spoil the ending, but I will tell you that I had a fun time reading this book. It’s equal parts memoir, history, and trying to understand an enigma. The tales about Bill Watterson and the genesis of his legendary Calvin and Hobbes comic strip, trying to get his career off the ground after years of frustration, and his love/hate relationship with success are fascinating. Watterson’s well known resistance to any and all merchandising of his characters is also fully explored here, and it adds another dimension to this complex man. It’s a frustrating tact to take, but I can understand it. It called to mind how much I cherished the Peanuts characters as a child, when what I really loved was the ancillary stuff (dolls, TV specials). Indeed, I didn’t fully appreciate Schulz’s comic itself until the Fantagraphics Complete Peanuts volumes came out. The result of Watterson’s stance is letting the comic strip speak for itself, revealing it to be one of the most brilliant explorations of childhood imagination ever committed to ink and paper. Martell shares a similarly glowing view of the strip throughout this book, ruminating in an appealing, leisurely style that oftentimes comes across not so flatteringly like magazine writing. Overall, it’s not a very substantial book (at times I wish Martell didn’t inject so much of himself in the content), but the journey he takes is an enjoyable one to tag along with.
Weekly Mishmash: February 14-20
Julee Cruise — Floating into the Night. An album I’ve been wanting to hear ever since it came out 21 (!) years ago. The 1989 fusion of the scintillating Ms. Cruise, arranger Angelo Badalamenti, and director David Lynch is a spellbinding exercise in dream pop. Much of the album floats by in a dreamlike, eerie atmosphere with the occasional ’50s pop flourish (e.g. the abstract sax solo on “Rockin’ Back Inside My Heart”). “Falling,” a vocal rendition of the Twin Peaks theme, is the best-known tune here, but I like how the album’s second half delves into the darker, sleepier mood of a sustained lullaby. Listening to it from this distance makes me realize how truly one-of-a-kind this collaboration was, although it inspires cravings for cherry pie and damn fine coffee.
49 Up (2006). The most recent chapter in Michael Apted’s astonishing documentary series that profiles several “average” British citizens at seven year intervals from childhood through middle age. At this stage, the subjects are feeling very ambivalent about revisiting Apted and the strange celebrity that comes as a result of these films. It makes for voyeuristic but compelling viewing. Mostly it feels like catching up with old friends that you haven’t seen in a while. I’m always amazed at the editing, which has curious, gawky children gradually morphing into self-aware, pudgy adults. It must be somewhat painful for these people having to re-evaluate their lives every seven years, but I hope they’re aware of the great contributions they’re making to film history.
Hunger (2008). Great film about the brutal treatment of IRA members in the early ’80s British prison system, culminating in the two month hunger strike of resistance leader Bobby Sands (brilliantly played by actor Michael Fassbender). Director Steve McQueen crafted this film into an impressionistic mood piece that gradually draws the viewer in. The approach works infinitely better than it would have been with strict, straightforward storytelling. The film is filled with static shots of things like the prisoners’ feces-smeared cell walls, ugly things that look strangely beautiful in this setting. The gradual deterioration of Fassbender’s body fits into that milieu, as well. I was puzzled as to why McQueen focused on a prison guard, then an average prisoner, then Sands in the course of the film. It may have made more sense to have it centered around a few characters throughout — nonetheless, this film is an uneasy, unforgettable experience.
Orphan (2009). Well-made but far from subtle horror flick about a well-heeled couple (Peter Sarsgaard and Vera Farmiga) who adopt a creepy Russian girl with precocious talents for folksy paintings and quasi-Victorian fashions. After settling in with the couple’s other two children, things start to go very, very wrong and the concerned ma starts to suspect that little Esther (Isabelle Fuhrman) isn’t who she appears to be. This is a pretty stupid, predictable little potboiler, but it’s fun. I was entertained by the way this film so liberally takes cues from other “bad child” movies such as The Bad Seed and The Good Son (the giant treehouse built prohibitively high above ground level in the latter). The cast seems committed — I was particularly impressed with Aryana Engineer as the youngest kid — but this is pure hokum from start to finish. It might even have the makings for the next camp classic.
ABC’s Funshine Saturday
A fun promo film for ABC’s Fall 1974 daytime and Saturday morning lineup includes shows familiar (The Brady Bunch, already a rerun staple mere months after getting cancelled in prime time) and unfamiliar (The Girl in My Life). That animated gumball machine on the ABC Afterschool Special elicits a real deja vu feeling here!
Screen Gems — from Outer Spaaaace
I can’t believe someone made a short film about the traumatizing effects of the animated Screen Gems logo from the ’60s (via The Tin Man). The creepy moog synthesized music really did it for me.
See also: Scrubbles.net: Logos, Logos, Logos.
Weekly Mishmash: February 7-13
Julia (1977). I’ve been wanting to see this one for years — Jane Fonda as Lillian Hellman and Vanessa Redgrave as the title character, Hellman’s childhood friend, who takes a different path that leads both to intrigue in wartime Europe. The film certainly has the polish of an Oscar-winning drama, but all in all I was somewhat disappointed. Redgrave did a great job, but Fonda is too mannered and fussy, and I really don’t know why Jason Robards Jr. netted an Oscar for his few scenes as Hellman’s lover Dashiell Hammett. I also wish the film concentrated more on Hellman’s writing career (we see her busily working on something, but frustratingly don’t know what), and less on the standard WWII spying angle. In her first film, Meryl Streep has an amusing, brief scene here as Fonda’s fair weather friend.
Moonrise (1948). Generally I find much of what TCM offers in its yearly 31 Days of Oscar boring as all get out, but I made an exception for a rare showing Frank Borzage’s moody noir Moonrise (which only got one nomination the year it came out — for sound mixing). This one stars underrated Dane Clark as a young man who is ostracized in his small Southern town for his dad going to the gallows. Convinced he has bad blood, he accidentally kills one of his tormentors (Lloyd Bridges) and takes refuge with a sweet schoolteacher (Gail Russell) who counts among the few who see the good in him. This was a pretty nice film, hokey at times but beautifully acted and photographed. I always liked Dane Clark and his “average joe” appeal, and he’s well matched with the ethereal Russell (contrary to the poster art, the two do not resemble Lawrence Olivier and Vivien Leigh!). At times I felt like Borzage was laying the romantic atmosphere on a bit thick, perhaps to make up for the script’s shortcomings. There are, however, a lot of effective cloaked with Southern gothic atmosphere. Much of the film takes place outdoors, on artfully lit sets that highlight the characters’ unspoken yearnings. Highlight: ferris wheel scene.
9 (2009). A post apocalyptic animated opus that disappeared from theaters faster than Heidi Montag’s barely perceptible crows feet. I found it a moderate success with stunning visuals making up for its myriad shortcomings. With a cast of doll-like creatures trying to save themselves in a battle-scarred landscape full of the machines that destroyed humanity, this premise is bleaker than bleak. Even the hopeful ending isn’t all that hopeful, and the fact that this feels like a short film (over) expanded to feature-length doesn’t help things. Still, I loved the fully realized steampunk/industrial ’40s setting, and the variations between the creatures was fascinating. Although this does bear the imprimatur of co-producer Tim Burton, even Burton himself rarely goes to the bleak places that creator Shane Acker journeys to here — which is somewhat admirable for a kiddie film.
Soul Train: The Hippest Trip in America (VH1). Excellent documentary which almost — almost — makes up for the rest of the crap being played on VH1. Seek it out if you can and get down with yo’ bad self. Or at the very least, check out this clip of the famed Soul Train line dancers in action:
Viva Villa! (1934). Another TCM 31 Days of Oscar viewing, this historical biopic traces the life of Pancho Villa and his conquest of Mexico with an utterly caucasian cast headed by burly Wallace Beery. Yes, Beery seems about as Mexican as a Taco Bell Chalupa, but I’d enjoy him in just about anything and this rip roaring actioner is no exception to the rule. Despite some well-reported behind the scenes turmoil, this is a smooth and nicely paced film that defies its nearly two hour length. I can’t vouch for the historical accuracy on display, but as far as mid-’30s MGM extravaganzas go it holds up pretty well. It kind of makes me wonder what Mexicans think of the film (is it stereotypical or true to life?).
The Wedding Banquet (1993). Uh huh… yet another movie that I’d waited years to see. This one proves that writer-director Ang Lee had the terrific domestic drama thing going on almost right off the bat (I haven’t seen his debut feature, 1992’s Pushing Hands — and from what Lee says apparently he doesn’t want anyone else seeing it, either). About an assimilated Chinese-American who hastily marries to hide his gayness from his traditional parents, this boasts a lot of funny true-to-life scenes and even more warmth and soul. I’d hasten to truly call it a gay film, since the clash of cultures between the traditional and modern Chinese is a bigger theme here than the gay thing. The atmosphere throughout is very early ’90s indie-ish, but all that knowing dialogue (mostly not English) helps make it a timeless film.
Go, Betty, Go!
Maybe it’s the Snickers commercial on the Super Bowl, but it seems like Betty White is everywhere these days. Now she’s the subject of a massive fan campaign on Facebook to get her to host Saturday Night Live (I happily joined this group — invited by, oddly enough, actress June Lockhart). NPR’s Linda Holmes makes a compelling case that it’s in SNL’s best interest to land Betty that hosting gig.
Think Pink!
Today’s video of Kay Thompson’s “Think Pink” number from Funny Face is cheating a bit, since I already posted this on Facebook two weeks ago… but the whole thing is so fabulous it deserves an encore here. The effects with split screens and such were pretty advanced for 1957, and for pure visual flair you can’t beat model Suzy Parker and her animated toothpaste. While viewing just remember, there isn’t the slightest excuse for plum or puce — or chartreuse.
The Geekiest Book on Earth
Chris Strodder’s book The Disneyland Encyclopedia: The Unofficial, Unauthorized, and Unprecedented History of Every Land, Attraction, Restaurant, Shop, and Event in the Original Magic Kingdom (whew) was a holiday gift from my spouse that I just finished reading — cover to cover. What Strodder has done here is compile every attraction, restaurant, and shop that has ever existed within Anaheim Disneyland’s perimeter berm (even the berm itself gets an entry!). Also included are profiles of notable people involved in the park’s history and tantalizing glimpses at lands and attractions that were planned, but never built. This book contained a lot of fascinating info that even a Disneyland History geek like me didn’t know. Stoddard’s writing style is enthusiastic and well-informed, full of delicious factoids — and blessedly different from the upbeat blathering that characterizes most Disney fansites. Just read his little bio of Walt Disney himself to get a feel of the even-handed but fun tone present throughout this book. Want to know more about Aunt Jemima’s Pancake House, the Main Street Electrical Parade, Princess Fantasy Faire, the Monsanto Hall of Chemistry, or even the expertly themed restrooms? It’s all in here.
Funny postscript — one of the first things I checked in this book was the Wizard of Bras shop (did you know one could shop for ladies’ unmentionables on Main Street?). Sure enough, it’s listed in here. I mistakenly thought the shop itself was called Wizard of Bras, but that was actually the name of a display that was housed inside the more humbly monikered Intimate Apparel store which only operated during the first two years of Disneyland’s existence. You learn something new every day.
Weekly Mishmash: January 31-February 6
AKA (2002). Cheap but engaging film about a poor bloke (boyishly handsome Matthew Leitch) who worms his way into British upper crust society by pretending to be someone he isn’t. This gay-themed drama doesn’t do much to hide its meager budget, and straight-to-video camerwork and clumsy direction doesn’t help matters either. Also, given the talent on display (Diana Quick, Bill Nighy), the acting can be startlingly amateurish. I found it interesting despite all that; Christopher liked it much more than I did. Probably the coolest feature of the DVD is the option to watch the film in triptych form, with three takes of the same scenes playing simultaneously. It helped make this unexceptional flick a bit more watchable.
All American Ads 1900-1919, edited by Jim Heimann. Having a bulging shelf full of the other All American Ads books, I jumped at the chance when Taschen recently had this volume on discount. You would think that advertising in these early 20th century years would be visually stuffy and filled with conservative Victorian values, but I was actually disarmed by how subtle and lovely many of these ads were. Since printing methods weren’t yet advanced enough to take advantage of photography, most ads of the era depended heavily on illustration to the point where the entire ad, text and all, were rendered on the artist’s canvas. And what gorgeous illustrations they are! Apparently having little more than a sumptuous rendering of a happy customer was enough of a “hard sell” back then. Some of the best pages here are campaigns by familiar brands like Coca-Cola, Kellogg’s Corn Flakes, Cream of Wheat and Old Dutch Cleanser. I also enjoyed spotting the work of well-known illustrators such as J.C. Leyendecker and Coles Phillips, whose “fade away ladies” were as much an icon of their era as the Gibson Girl (1890s) or the Vargas pinup (1940s) were for theirs. Pretty nifty visual resource, and it’s already given me inspiration for my next (top secret for the moment) project.
Bright Star (2009). Gorgeous to look at but strangely static film, about the brief but passionate romance between penniless poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and his well-dressed lady love, Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish). I though Jane Campion did a pretty good job directing this story, aided by some wonderful cinematography that paints various sparsely decorated interiors with the delicacy of a Vermeer painting. I also liked the historically accurate costume design, which was the only area in which this film was honored with an Oscar nomination (the photography ought to have made the cut as well). Unfortunately, the film is deadly slow at times, and the blandness of the two leads makes it play more like a BBC America time-filler than it needed to be. Normally I don’t favor star power in a film like this, but here I feel like it was desperately needed (as a matter of fact, probably the only cast member I truly liked was the precocious little red haired girl).
City of God (2002). Rented this Brazilian drug running epic after noticing that it placed in the IMDb top 250. For a film that I’d never heard of, I was surprised to see it ranked up in the top twenty. This is an audaciously filmed, fast paced romp that fits squarely within the tastes of IMDb voters (which don’t necessarily overlap with mine, but that’s a different entry). Described as a Brazilian Goodfellas, this film tracks the fortunes of a group of young men who turn to drug dealing, gangs and hoodlumlike behavior as a way to escape the Cidade de Deus (City of God), a stifling 1960s housing project for the poor. Moving into the ’70s, the film focuses on two young products of that desperate environment who took on different paths — one as a photographer and the other as the kingpin of a drug dealing network. At times I felt like this film was too ambitious and I wish it had been reigned in a bit, perhaps by ditching the ’60s prologue. The story is also somewhat “been there, done that” in the way it unfurls, but there are so many outstanding sequences along the way that the average viewer is likely to forget that stuff. If at least a few scenes don’t elicit a “wow,” then … you must be dead. If anything, the film is very evocative of its place/time and the wild allure of Rio and Brazilian culture in general.
Erasure – Total Pop! Deluxe Box. A lesson in the dangers of letting nostalgia affect one’s purchases, I downloaded this box set despite already owning half the tracks on it. But I didn’t mind because I love Erasure, a group that has had a surprisingly longevity for the kind of sweet synth pop they purvey (only the Pet Shop Boys can match them). This set supplements their 1992 best-of Pop! The First 20 Hits with 20 more tracks covering Vince Clarke and Andy Bell’s underappreciated 1994-2007 work, along with 14 okay live recordings covering their entire career. If anything, this set proves the duo’s solid commitment to melodic synth-based dance pop — regardless of whether the genre is trendy or not (anyone remember how weird “Chorus” sounded coming out amidst the grunge explosion of 1991?). The big surprise for me was their more recent stuff, such as several charming cuts from their covers album Other People’s Songs (2003). Selections from 2007’s Light at the End of the World trend toward distressingly boring dance music, but the beauty of Erasure is that they will always have something new and intriguing to show for their next venture.
Mayor of the Sunset Strip (2004). I caught this documentary about Los Angeles quasi-celebrity Rodney Bingenheimer on the Fuse network. Totally fascinating! This film follows the impish but strangely sad Bingenheimer, famous more for befriending various musicians and promoting the L.A. music scene than for any inherent talent the guy himself possesses. The filmmakers use Rodney’s story to explore fame and the hollow pursuit of it. I still don’t know if that was a genius move or not (for all I know Rodney is truly a happy fellow and not the sad, vacant soul who comes across here), but this aspect makes for absorbing viewing. Best part: the montage of Rodney bopping away in the background of various vintage performance clips (Mamas & the Papas, Beach Boys, etc.).
Hey There, Georgy Girl
Mitzi Gaynor made a splash at the 1967 Academy Awards doing a dazzling, orange and pink-hued production number to “Georgy Girl.” Now that a YouTube user has posted it, we can all delight in its ’60s deliciousness (thanks to Lady Bunny). This number was so popular that it led Mitzi into a series of successful TV specials for the next ten years, covered in her DVD Razzle Dazzle! The Special Years.
See also — Scrubbles.net: The Lady with the Gorgeous Gams.
1939, Via 1987
Today’s video is part one of the “making of Gone with the Wind” installment of ABC’s short-lived newsmagazine, Our World. Man, I loved this show. Anchored by Linda Ellerbee and Ray Gandolf, each episode examined the events of a single year in American history. I recall that the show was critically acclaimed, but ABC gave it a death sentence by scheduling it opposite mega-hit The Cosby Show. It limped along through the 1986-87 season before getting the axe. Stupid ABC.
Somebody on YouTube posted the entire 1939/Gone with the Wind show, so at least we have that to be thankful for.
Creepy Cookbook Kids
It’s been a while since I’ve shared some weird ephemera from the past. The illustration below comes from the back cover of Ground Beef Cookbook, published by Favorite Recipes Press in 1967. An enterprising indie band ought to make these two their mascots.
