Child Life, 1959 Style

Here are a few scans of the May 1959 issue of an obscure ’50s kiddie magazine called Child Life. All three are nice examples of stylish child-oriented book illustration of the era, but the magazine didn’t credit any of the artists — so any help on the IDs would be appreciated! This mag was a birthday gift for Christopher, my 1959 baby.

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Weekly Mishmash: July 18-24

The Circus Queen Murder (1933). I gave this Columbia ‘B’ a shot when it received an unusual prime time showing on a recent Turner Classic Movies night devoted to circus movies. Dapper Adolphe Menjou stars as Thatcher Colt, big city detective who takes a vacation in upstate New York. He and his secretary (the strangely alluring Ruthelma Stevens) are there to relax, but instead they find themselves involved in the shady dealings of a traveling circus with quarreling lovers, and a mysterious tribe of cannibals, and (you guessed it) murder. This is an efficiently made, very watchable little flick somewhat spoiled by the lack of mystery throughout. The murder happens too late in the film, and since the killer’s identity is plainly telegraphed early on there isn’t much suspense, either. Despite that, I enjoyed watching this not only for the cast (apparently this was one of two Thatcher Colt/Adolphe Menjou flicks), but for the many similarities between this and Freaks. Although this film is lighthearted mystery and Freaks is terrifying horror, it appears as if Greta Nissen’s trapeze artist is patterned after Olga Baclanova’s character in the earlier film. The filmmakers also included a group of vaguely creepy cannibals which call to mind the assorted Freaks freaks. Coincidence or not, the circus backdrop is vividly portrayed and adds some much needed depth to the film.
poster_castawaysIn Search of the Castaways (1962). Another week, another live action Disney adventure! In Search of the Castaways stars winsome Hayley Mills as a pre-teen who comes across a bottled message sent by her father, a shipping merchant previously thought to be killed at sea. Teaming with her brother, a ship’s captain and his son, and the French fisherman (Maurice Chevalier) who found the bottle, she goes on a journey that takes the troupe through snowy mountains, flash floods, volcanoes and a menacing band of cannibals (two cannibal movies in one week!). Fun in its own way but it does rank as one of the lesser Disney live action flicks, with scenes that stretch the notions of credibility and provoke the image of Jules Verne spinning in his grave. If the idea of watching people maneuver a giant boulder down a snowy canyon like some sort of king-sized toboggan strikes your fancy, this is the flick for you.
Inception (2010). Christopher and I took a day off on Friday to do a double feature at the local cracker box cinema; the trippy Inception was one of them. You oughta know by now it’s about Leo DiCaprio and pals invading another man’s dreams in an Oceans 11 meets Mission: Impossible type scenario. I thought it was a fun way to spend two and a half hours. I found myself lost in the film and admiring (if not exactly being wowed by) Christopher Nolan’s knack for audience-friendly yet cerebral entertainment; a very similar reaction that befell Nolan’s The Dark Knight. The story gets very dense at times, introducing characters whose function I couldn’t figure out (Ken Watanabe?). Although the four dream states never tripped me up, I have to admit to being disappointed that they all have a similar “action movie set piece” look that doesn’t bear any semblance to any dream I’ve ever had. The special effects are very cool, however. Just be prepared for many scenes of people drinking, rain-soaked, underwater, etc. — this is a film that seems specifically engineered for strategically placed bathroom breaks.
album_parissistersThe Paris Sisters — Sing Everything Under the Sun!!!. The Paris Sisters were a girl trio best known for the moony 1961 hit “I Love How You Love Me.” Despite its having four flop singles, their 1967 LP Sing Everything Under the Sun!!! was considered a sought-after cult item for Girl Group collectors until it finally got a CD reissue in the mid-2000s; I got to check it out on eMusic. This short, sweet gem of an album is a good showcase for the sultry voice of Priscilla Paris (who also wrote four of its ten tracks). Producers Jack Nitzsche and Jimmy Bowen built a consistent sound for the album that lies halfway between Phil Spector and easygoing mid-’60s “beach” music, a mood that sometimes detours in a nicely atmospheric direction (a dirge-like take on “It’s My Party,” for example) which likely influenced David Lynch and Julee Cruise some 20 years later. Priscilla Paris has an interesting, somewhat sleepy sounding voice, but the true highlight of this album comes when she pulls out an unexpectedly emotional performance on “See That Boy.” In just under 2-1/2 minutes, here is the epitome of why I dig obscure ’60s music. I’m positive that in an alternate universe somewhere it’s a huge, huge hit.
They Drive By Night (1940). Re-watched this after adding the DVD to my efforts to collect the films of Joyce Compton. Joyce appears briefly in the film’s second half as the ditsy girlfriend of one of the film’s supporting characters; in my totally biased opinion she holds her own opposite George Raft, Ann Sheridan and Humphrey Bogart. Actually, the first (non-Joyce) half of this film is the kind of cracklin’ working class drama that Warner Bros. did impeccably during this time. It follows truckers Raft and Bogart as they deal with punishing hours and low pay hauling produce on all-night drives, with Sheridan adding a salty cynicism as a waitress whom Raft takes a shine to. It’s such a cool, supremely exciting movie (even the normally cardboard Raft does a great job), that it’s a bit of a disappointment when the film shifts gears to shrill murder melodrama with a hysterically overacting Ida Lupino. That plot development is still interesting in a campy way, but it detracts from what would have otherwise been a perfect, gritty film. Although I normally adore Ida Lupino (see The Hard Way or The Man I Love), she’s too much here; it’s hard to believe that critics of the day heaped praise on her performance.
A Town Called Panic (2009) and Toy Story 3 (2010). Animated films which both deal, directly or not, with our relationship with toys and play objects. A Town Called Panic is an inventive, generally successful French-Belgian stop motion film that weaves a wacky story out of cheap plastic playthings a la army men, farm sets, and cowboys and indians. The cowboy and indian in this instance are two boys who live in a house under the parentage of a stern horse. Although I won’t go into the plot details, it involves an underwater city, a giant mechanical penguin, and lots of weirdly mismatched farm animals. The absurdist humor throughout actually reflects the way real children play with toys, independent of what they were made for (I don’t know about you, but I certainly didn’t use army men to do army battles). This film is too long by a good half hour, but I found it totally charming and bizarre in ways that market-tested Hollywood flicks could never touch. Hollywood flicks excepting those from the mighty Pixar, which brings me to Toy Story 3. What a fabulous way to close out the tale of Andy, Woody, Buzz and the rest of the gang! This film was much more emotionally resonant — and darker — than I ever expected. I appreciated the level of detail that they put in every scene, and the additional characters were so wonderful it almost made me forget the regrettable absence of Bo Peep and that penguin squeaky toy. Probably the most poignant addition is the creep inducing lazy-eyed baby, a character that is set up as a villain but somehow ends up being more sympathetic than the nominal leads. I think it’s because the baby is presented as a realistic child with adorable cooing sounds and infantile reactions, giving the viewer the uncomfortable notion that abandoned baby doll = real abandoned baby. Speaking of which, the film’s climax goes to intense, emotional places even previous Pixar efforts like Up didn’t venture. The much spoken-of final scene was a beautifully done and affecting bit of closure, even though it failed to bring a single tear in me (just raised a lump in my throat) — probably since it went on too long. Yeah, I’m a scrooge. Despite that minor disappointment, this gets a solid ‘A’.

Forest for the Trees

This drawing was made while looking out the window at my parents’ cabin in Northern Arizona, using Autodesk SketchbookPro for the iPad. It’s a fun program to use; they just need to make it easier to save files while you’re working on them. I’ve had a couple of times (including on this drawing) where the drawing was almost finished, then somehow I got out of SketchbookPro and all the latest work was never saved. I also have an annoying habit of getting into the section where you can rotate or move the drawing, then it ends up getting saved that way. Cool program, needs some fine tuning.

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Where Have You Been Hiding Out Lately, Honey

I barely remember watching this clip from Marie Osmond’s short lived solo variety series, Marie, when it was originally on circa 1981. This is Marie performing Billy Joel’s “It’s Still Rock ‘n Roll to Me” as a campy duet with herself — what a hoot! Two things I notice now: the costumes have all the hallmarks of the legendary Bob Mackie, and Marie was a talented performer for being only about 21 years old. Enjoy.

Weekly Mishmash: July 11-17

poster_coltisA Colt Is My Passport (1967). Part of Criterion Eclipse’s acclaimed “Nikkatsu Noir,” a DVD set exploring director Takashi Nomura’s low budget action thrillers from the ’60s. A Colt Is My Passport stars the reliable, chipmunk cheeked actor Jo Shishido as a hit man who kills a mob boss. With his partner, the man hides out in a sleepy shipping port in order to make a hasty escape. Stung by the tragedy, the son of the victim comes to Shishido’s boss and makes a cash offer to have the man killed. With men coming after him, Shishido then plots an elaborate revenge. All told, not the greatest or most original story, but there are enough interesting elements to recommend it. First off is the strange score, seemingly inspired by spaghetti Westerns and Herb Alpert-ish American pop music. In the beginning there are a lot of cool camera angles involving the modern architecture’s boxy, harsh lines — then the film moves to the seedy hotel locale and gets somewhat dull. The film’s exciting climax, staged in a dusty field, redeems things somewhat. Worth a peek if you like unconventional ’60s Japanese movies (and really, who doesn’t?).
Criss Cross (1949). Another noir, closer to home but no less odd. The virile Burt Lancaster heads up Criss Cross as a man harboring an obsession with ex-wife Yvonne De Carlo, now linked with sleazeball gangster Dan Duryea. Told mostly in flashback, the film details Lancaster’s and De Carlo’s attempts to rekindle their flame on the sly as Duryea executes a tricky bank truck heist. A rather standard story gets illuminated by great casting (especially Duryea, doing the kind of reprehensible men he does best) and some excellently photographed shots of 1949 Los Angeles (Angels Flight! Bunker Hill! Union Station!). Yvonne De Carlo was really fascinating to watch — I don’t think she’s the greatest actress, but there’s something watchable about her here and apparently the director agrees, lavishing long takes on her while the actress is dancing in a seedy joint with an uncredited Tony Curtis. She’s one hot tomato, that Yvonne De Carlo.
Eurythmics — Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This). I originally signed up on eMusic to get the 2005 reissues of the (personal fave band of the ’80s) Eurythmics’ catalog. The CD editions of these albums are so neatly packaged, however, that I decided to go with the tried and true plastic disc format. The liner notes for Sweet Dreams reveals an interesting story — by the time the LP came out in January 1983, Dave Stewart and Annie Lennox already released a flop album (In the Garden) and two underperforming singles (”This Is The House” and “The Walk”) to an indifferent world. It doesn’t surprise me at all that this album has an overall tone of resignation and icy reserve. In the Garden was a muddled, vaguely psychedelic mess with Lennox’s vocals buried too deep in the mix; with Sweet Dreams one could sense that they hit upon the simple equation of Soulful Diva Vocals + Chilly Electronics as the definitive Eurythmics sound. It’s a beautifully produced, hypnotic record, a bit repetitive at times, but sustaining a wonderful Euro-sleazy mood. The bonus tracks, mostly b-sides of the era, are lots of fun. I especially liked the 1991 remixes of “Sweet Dreams” and “Love Is A Stranger” and a brilliant cover of Lou Reed’s “Satellite of Love” which sounds more like a Be Yourself Tonight-era outtake.
Four Jacks and a Jill (1943). Wartime musical trifle was the last viewing from my personal Anne Shirley film fest. Honestly, I saw this five days ago and barely remember it; the plot revolves around Shirley as a waif who is somehow adopted by a quartet of musicians led by rubber-limbed Ray Bolger. I vaguely recall gangsters and a prince disguised as a taxi driver (played by a young Desi Arnaz) running around, too. Your enjoyment of this film probably depends on how much you can accept forgettable tunes and the goofy Bolger as a leading man. Shirley is cute as always, and seeing Arnaz as a capable comic actor so early in his career was a nice surprise.
dvd_thirty1stthirtysomething: The Complete First Season. I was excited to see thirtysomething finally arrive on DVD. Although I was eighteen-something and working a night job when it premiered in 1987, I would try and watch the show whenever possible (especially the later seasons with Miles Drentell, Melissa’s gay friend, Nancy’s cancer, etc). Something about the way the characters naturally interacted with each other struck a chord; the characters tended towards the whiny and self-centered, sure, but aren’t we all somewhat like that? Watching this first season was an interesting experience. I don’t remember the show being so strongly centered on its “perfect” couple Michael (Ken Olin) and Hope (Mel Harris) at the beginning. These early episodes epitomize what the haters disliked about the show, with the characters less developed and at their most ’80s yuppie-ish. It quickly hits a stride by the time Elliot (Timothy Busfield) and Nancy (Patricia Wettig) separate at mid-season, however. It’s a hoot revisiting characters and episodes I barely remember. One of my favorite scenes here is the one in the pilot episode where Hope and Polly Draper’s Ellyn meet for lunch in a restaurant, only to have it cut short by Hope’s screaming baby. The two women have this implicit realization that a part of their friendship was severed because one married and had a kid, something that happens with every thirtysomething. I also identified with terminally single Melissa (Melanie Mayron) and her status as the group’s artsy pal; in one of the later seasons she said something to the effect of “being single means learning how to go to the movies alone and not feeling like a leper.” Totally, Melissa, totally. Going back to seasons 2-4 oughta be a blast.
This Above All (1942). Stirring romance with a WWII British backdrop plays like 20th Century Fox’s own Mrs. Miniver. Christopher found it hokey and stupid, I enjoyed it. Lovely Joan Fontaine plays a British blue-blood who upsets her family by joining the UK version of the WACs; she meets cute with Tyrone Power as a morose soldier on the run for desertion. The two take refuge in various inns while discussing their lives and the war in florid, important sounding language that could only have come from a best selling novel of the era. Excellent performances from both leads, as well as Thomas Mitchell as Power’s affable best bud. As an actor Fontaine tends to be either touching and meek or annoyingly prissy; here she’s a little bit of both (one can safely take a bathroom break during her “we must preserve England” speech). Power is surprisingly good despite having no trace of a British accent. Both work splendidly together and I completely believed in the couple’s starry-eyed sincerity amongst the bomb blasts.

Pretty Sneaky, Sis

No comment needed.

It’s Like Quicksand, Quicksand (Yeah)

album_tcms3It’s that time of year again, when I splurge on one of Hip-O Select’s “Complete Motown Singles” CD packages. I recently had a cartooning job that paid off, so some of the newfound booty went toward The Complete Motown Singles, Vol. 3: 1963. Some background: I already own the peak volumes in this series, covering the years 1964-70. Now I’m in the process of hopscotching back and forth in time to get the last remaining sets, covering 1959-63 and 1971-72 (the final two volumes in the series covering 1972 haven’t yet been released, despite promises they’d be out in time for Motown’s 50th anniversary — in 2009).

Coming off the wild ‘n groovy 1970 volume, to be immersed in the comparatively quaint atmosphere of 1963 comes as something of a shock. Listening to the 119 single a- and b-sides included on these five discs, I get the impression that Motown was still your basic local R&B label at this point — albeit a label whose energy and ambition speak of being on the verge of greatness. Berry Gordy had his fingers in several pots at once, with subsidiary labels delving into Jazz (Workshop Jazz), Gospel (Divinity) and Country/Novelty music (Mel-o-dy). These off singles, while interesting, make the volume less essential than the others. On the plus side, having the songs presented in strict chronological order gives a clear picture of how Motown was developing, constantly releasing and reissuing stuff until the right formula translates into bona fide hits. A case in point is Little Stevie Wonder’s “Fingertips.” Stevie’s exciting live performance, split in two on the vinyl single, originally had “Part 1″ on the a-side for its May 1963 debut. Deejays quickly found, however, that the “Part 2″ flip with its “what key, what key?” musician’s ad lib was the more memorable side, so weeks later the single was remixed and re-released to chart topping success.

For me, the biggest development of 1963 Motown was the arrival of the dynamic team of Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier, and Eddie Holland. The first disc in this set contains the first two a-sides written and produced by the trio — The Marvelettes’ “Locking Up My Heart” and Martha & The Vandellas’ “Come And Get These Memories.” Right away, you get the feeling that with these two tunes they hit upon something special. Their tight rhythms and sing-songy melodies sound especially great surrounded by relatively dull sides from Mary Wells, Kim Weston and The Supremes. Indeed, the paucity of HDH sides seems to hurt the set’s misfire and obscurity (good and bad) heavy first half – until they struck gold again with Martha & The Vandellas’ tremendous “Heat Wave” in July. After that, the jumpy, gospel-inspired sound characteristic of early HDH gets the full treatment with hits from The Miracles (”Mickey’s Monkey”), Marvin Gaye (”Can I Get A Witness”), Mary Wells (”You Lost The Sweetest Boy”), The Supremes (”When The Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes,” the tune that broke the girls’ “no hit” curse), and – again – Martha & The Vandellas (”Quicksand”). This is early, exciting Motown at its best, and that alone makes me happy I got this.

Weekly Mishmash: July 4-10

Belle Epoque (1992). An enjoyable if very slight comedy from Spain: on the eve of the Spanish Civil War, an AWOL soldier (Jorge Sanz) takes refuge in the home of a man with four beautiful daughters. As the film progresses, each daughter experiences a brief infatuation with the nonplussed man. This is a breezy, wistful film with an attractive cast and some gorgeous scenery. Although there are some deep scenes involving religion and war, mostly it serves as a nostalgic travelogue. The characters exist in a turbulent time and place, but one never fears for their safety or well being. Not bad, but I can’t believe it won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar. Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet was also nominated that year, and it’s a superior film in every way. Penelope Cruz plays the family’s youngest daughter here, winsome if not yet a fully developed actor at this point.
Brainstorm (1983). As an avid watcher of Entertainment Tonight during its early years, I remember being glued to the TV set whenever Mary Hart or whoever reported on Brainstorm’s troubled production after the death of its star, Natalie Wood. Since then I always wanted to catch that movie (out of curiosity more than anything else), and so it got recorded during Turner Classic Movies’ Wood tribute last month. This is quite an interesting movie, but I can see why it flopped after finally getting released two years after cameras stopped rolling. Douglas Trumbull’s film has an intriguing sci-fi-cum-domestic drama angle, but in the end it’s too dreary and heavy handed. Wood plays the estranged wife of scientist Christopher Walken, who is developing a machine that can record and play back human thoughts and experiences. The helmet-like computer is hastily rushed into production, causing myriad problems. The government intervenes when they see its value as a torture device — which is strange since when I saw the gaudy gold tape they used, I saw its value as Christmas gift wrapping. I loved the outdated technology on display here, which must have looked out of place even in 1983 (really — things changed so much, one can tell the film was made circa 1980-81). Another neat angle lies in the photography trick Trumbull uses: the film takes on squarish and TV-like proportions most of the time, going into dazzling widescreen whenever the rapturous device is being used. As for the acting, Walken and Louise Fletcher as a fellow scientist are both very good; Wood is somewhat wasted in a nothing role (although she does play a product designer; how often does one see product designers on film?).
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008). Period comedy of Britain in the ’30s, fizzy and nicely designed but in the end not very absorbing. Based on a novel of the era, the film follows a plain, recently unemployed woman (Frances McDormand) who takes an uncharacteristic leap of faith when she wrangles herself into the household of a dizzy American actress (Amy Adams) — and in a single day, her life is transformed. This had the makings of a cute, inoffensive comedy, but mostly I didn’t understand why this film came to be. The source material seems too slight to resonate with a modern audience (adding the spectre of WWII approaching doesn’t help), and I never once cared for Adams’ plight with three different men vying for her attention. And what is Adams’ ditsy and moderately talented character doing living in a huge, fabulously furnished apartment, anyhow? I loved Adams here, but McDormand seems largely miscast (I could never buy her as a reserved British lady). The project tries so awfully hard to entertain, only to ultimately get buried by its own forcefulness.
A Single Man (2009). Tom Ford’s lusciously photographed meditation on love and loss was a critical hit last year; I can understand the heaps of praise. Although Ford’s almost fetishistic love of early ’60s design seems to get in the way of the story, he does manage to get some terrific performances from Colin Firth and Julianne Moore. It’s actually quite an accomplishment for a first time filmmaker (not to mention first time screenwriter, as well). Firth is flawless as a British academic transplanted to a circa 1961 Los Angeles, dealing with the shattering loss of his lover while attempting to move on with his life as a literary professor. My favorite scenes are the ones with Firth and Julianne Moore as an old friend, a fellow Brit who is having abandonment issues of her own. They’re great together, easily making up for the somewhat affected, TV commercial-like techniques Ford uses throughout the film. Presenting Firth in his orderly Midcentury Modern home with oh-so-perfect minimalistic decor, it’s as if Ford wants the character so hemmed in that suicide is the only solution to his plight. The film also takes on an interesting element with the color changing saturation whenever Firth feels happy, nostalgic or lustful, especially noticeable whenever a curious student played by Nicholas Hoult enters the scene. Good film, and as a designer I can appreciate Ford’s object lust — even a common pencil sharpener becomes an item of beauty here. (p.s. with his squinty eyes and haughty demeanor, I can only surmise that Ford’s next project will somehow involve Renee Zelwegger).

Ten Years a Scrubbling Fool

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A milestone: this week marks the tenth anniversary that I’ve been doing this weblog. It’s hard to believe a whole decade has passed since setting up a Blogger account so I could have a more dynamic element on my little site — complete with impenetrable web address containing a tilde (the scrubbles.net domain name would come a few months later). Although as of summer 2000 I had already been doing a monthly music review site (coded by hand!), this new venture opened up a completely new world. Before, the web felt one dimensional; after, it was a veritable lovefest of sharing, discussing, giving and receiving. All these years later, it still astonishes me that anyone would be interested in my ramblings on whatever crappy movie/book/album comes my way.

So, here’s to ten years of the bl*g! To celebrate, here are some links to other bloggers’ tenth birthday posts:

Related: Eight Years of Scrubbles.net (highlights reel); Seven Years of Unpigeonholable Tomfoolery (a look at the Scrubbles logos from 2000-07).

California Déjà Vu

From this video of TV show opening credits of 1979, a long forgotten one — California Fever. I used to watch this every week, but I honestly don’t remember a thing about it except the theme song (sung by actor Jimmy MacNichol) and that pulsating red circle in the opening. The montage also includes Real People, a show I watched zealously week after week. I had a little boy crush on Sarah Purcell.

Alice in Wonderland, and at LitKids

I’ve been working on getting a swell Alice In Wonderland print up at LitKids. This is a tough one — out of the 30 prints I’ve tried so far, only about eight are good quality and sellable. The combination of a complex illustration and our dry weather means that my silk screen is getting clogged earlier and the images are coming out faint. I might have to put LitKids on hold until our weather gets moister.

The ones that did come out are really nice, however. I love the interplay between my design and the tinted John Tenniel illustrations from the 1946 edition of Through the Looking Glass I used. Next step: getting it on the Etsy front page!

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Weekly Mishmash: June 27-July 3

poster_boyslavesBoy Slaves (1939). Did you notice? TCM last week did a morning-long salute to Anne Shirley with several lesser-seen programmers that the pert actress appeared in — including this child labor exploitation flick. Shirley is glammed down and plays a rather low key supporting role in this one. The story revolves around a a group of Depression-era kiddie hoods who find themselves trapped at an unforgiving turpentine farm run by weaselly Charles Lane. As much as this tries to be a hard hitting exposé a la William Wellman’s Wild Boys of the Road, the film stumbles with a half baked plot and predictable casting straight from the Dead End Kids playbook (alpha male, funny black guy, pipsqueak, etc.). Shirley has a few good moments as the one girl at the otherwise male-dominated farm (what’s up with that?). Some good scenes and an interesting idea, but mostly flat and boring.
Meet the Missus (1937). The other Anne Shirley/TCM opus we watched this week is an affable RKO programmer about contest-crazy housewife Helen Broderick, who drags henpecked husband Victor Moore to a Miss America-like pageant in which she’s a front runner. This is one of those movies that is, while pretty forgettable in the grand scheme of things, enjoyable enough entertainment. The movie lampoons the ’30s contest craze and beauty pageants in an interesting way. As for the cast, the rubber limbed Broderick is a fair comedienne, and Moore (whom I’ve never seen before) ably does the flustered husband bit. Shirley has a thankless, miniscule role as the couple’s daughter; her scenes are worth watching only for being paired with the dreamy, unknown Alan Bruce (who might as well be Brad Pitt’s grandpa).
Pinocchio (1940). “When you wish upon a star…” Since we had some extra time this holiday weekend, we took in a few old Disney animated features recently purchased on DVD. Pinocchio is the studio at its grandest. This was a transitional work, especially with the character designs; Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket both have the round curves and oversized heads of classic Disney characters, while others like the fox and cat who lure Pinocchio into debauchery have a more rudimentary Silly Symphonies look. The background paintings are some of the lushest ever, especially the detailed rendering of Geppetto’s village in day and night. This film, literally and figuratively, also gets into some of the darkest territory Disney ever ventured to. Today’s namby pamby Disney corporation would never attempt scenes with trapped boys helplessly turning into donkeys, and it’s executed beautifully here. One clever detail I never noticed before: the gigantic eight ball and cue that forms the entrance to Pleasure Island’s pool hall is evocative of the trylon and perisphere at the 1939 New York Worlds Fair. That couldn’t have been a coincidence.

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poster_saludosSaludos Amigos (1942) and The Three Caballeros (1944). This south-of-the-border double feature was the viewing fare at our stay in my parents’ cabin in Northern Arizona. These were interesting to watch, knowing their historical significance as World War II propaganda pieces. The quaint Saludos Amigos is a pleasant if disjointed little travelogue, with Donald Duck guiding viewers through live action footage of South America and some forgettable shorts set in the region. It’s cute, but nothing compared to the quasi-psychedelic follow-up, The Three Caballeros. That film has not only a stronger concept (Donald opening gifts representing the varied cultures of South and Central America), but it also boasts some of the craziest visuals the Disney animators ever attempted. One has to wonder what they were smoking during Donald’s colorful freakout at the end (also the fact that Donald constantly lusts after human women is a bit … odd). The innovative Technicolor live action/animation mashups are a marvel to behold, and the music (particularly the Brazilian “Baía” segment) is divine. In my book, it’s one of the more underrated Disney animated ventures.
The White Ribbon (2009). Just before World War I, the children in a tiny German village come under suspicion for a series of tragic mishaps. The film presents the pure evilness of the crimes committed, and the childrens’ blasé attitudes towards what they did, as the basis for Germany’s developing fascism. Although the film sets up a lot of stories which are never adequately resolved, for the most part I was spellbound. This was mostly due to the film’s gorgeous black and white cinematography, replete with carefully composed, beautifully framed shots. That, paired with a talented cast of unknowns apparently straight out of the 1910s, makes this one of the rare films that presents a fully realized other world. Complaints about the inconclusive ending are duly noted, but I was too wrapped up in all the sharply defined characters in this Children of the Damned/rural Germany universe to care.

A Pinch of Basil

Today’s video is another forgotten ’80s tune I just discovered this week — Toni Basil’s “Over My Head.” I think this song actually betters “Mickey;” too bad it barely made it onto the Billboard Hot 100. The video has a terrific concept with multi-talented Toni dancing in and out of vintage pulp book covers with various “outrageous” looks. She’s a helluva dancer, of course, and the theatricality she used on her image is very prescient. The Lady GaGa of 1983?

Living with the iPad

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About a month ago, Christopher came to me with a surprise announcement: he was ordering a new Apple iPad. He was thinking about getting something similar to replace our old Dell laptop computer as a simple internet connection for us while going on long trips. As the Apple person in the family, I was delighted with this development — it certainly was going to get more use from me than that crappy Dell.

Now, I’m no early adopter when it comes to new technology, but the iPad really epitomizes what I’d want from a techno-gadget. When the iPhone first came out, I thought “this would be nice without the phone.” Then Apple released the iPod Touch, and I thought “this would be great if it was bigger, so you could read e-books and browse the internet.” Voilà, the iPad! The first generation iPad isn’t perfect; it’s still a bit bulky and the screen could use a few more square inches. However, even after a few weeks I can tell it will be a useful part of our household. We’ve already had a few times while watching a movie when C. will whip out the thing to check on an actor in the Internet Movie Database, a move that would have been not worth the extra work using the laptop.

The first thing I noticed on the iPad is how intuitive the interface is. You move around with the brush of a finger, like on the iPhone but more natural. Typing is accomplished with a small pop-up keyboard. Sure, typing with one hand takes getting used to, but I was able to adapt to it startlingly fast.

The first thing we did was to synched it up to my Mac’s iTunes. I downloaded several free apps, including some news feeds from NPR, the BBC and USA Today. While one could access all three via Safari, I kind of enjoy having them in their own uncluttered state. Browsing on Safari is nice, but the type is a bit too small and I had more than one instance of accidentally tapping the wrong link. As for the controversial lack of Flash, I’ve barely noticed it. Strangely enough, the best app I’ve seen has been MultiPong, a beautifully rendered simple pong game. Speaking of simplicity, there’s also a virtual koi pond app that Christopher immediately gravitated to. I bought SketchBook Pro, which packs an impressive array of features into a measly $7.99 app. At this point I’m just fooling around with it, somewhat frustrated at how I keep accidentally using my fingers to resize my sketches (hmm).

I’ve also explored e-books a little bit with Apple’s iBooks and Amazon’s Kindle app. First off, I think it’s totally cool that Amazon even has a Kindle iPad app. With it, you can see books in color and set the type at a comfortable size, even having pages displayed in brown on sepia (my favorite). I downloaded a cheap copy of Treasure Island with nice color illustrations by N.C. Wyeth; hopefully it’s a sign of things to come that more illustrated ebooks will come along. Although I haven’t explored Apple’s reader, I can already tell that the Kindle has an edge for being able to bookmark pages (if iBooks have bookmarks, I haven’t seen it (note: iBooks does have a bookmark, I now see)). One enormous downside of both is that the type is completely forced justified and not ragged right like in most paper books (remember those?). The font choices aren’t too thrilling, either. Hopefully future updates will remedy that.

Perhaps the most ringing endorsement I have for the iPad is that writing about it here makes me want to fire the thing up and explore more — off I go!

Weekly Mishmash: June 20-26

poster_animalkingThe Animal Kingdom (1932). I caught this early talkie on my Comedy Kings 50 Movie Pack DVD set, which is odd since it’s more a melodrama with comedic elements than anything else. I remember seeing this about fifteen years ago while exchanging VHS tapes with a fellow vintage movie fan. At the time I found it dull and talky. The film still seems dull and talky, a straightforward adaptation of Philip Barry’s stage hit, but now I can better appreciate the unusually frank themes and understated performances from the leads. Leslie Howard plays Tom Collier, an aspiring writer who chooses duty over happiness when he decides to wed a stuffy society gal (Myrna Loy) over his true love, a bohemian artist (Ann Harding). A rather typical plot of its time, in other words, but three leads are all great (I especially enjoyed seeing the underrated Harding being her radiant self in another great role) with staging refreshingly naturalistic and not at all the hokum you often see in early ’30s melodramas. Loy, who hadn’t yet settled into wifey domestic roles at this point, is so alluring and fantastically begowned that I don’t blame Howard for his dilemma. Actually, I was struck by how nicely un-stereotypical the characters were. As Barry adaptations go, this isn’t nearly as fun as Holiday or The Philadelphia Story, but it’s worth a peek if only for the sophisticated dialogue and acting.
The Furies (1950). This wild ‘n wooly Anthony Mann Western/Melodrama is considered in some circles to be an overlooked masterpiece. I found it too hokey and overdone to be really worth more than one viewing, but the strong presence of Barbara Stanwyck as one of her usual fiery, headstrong gals put this into the (slight) winner category for me. In 1870s New Mexico, Stanwyck’s Vance Jeffords tries to wrest away control of the sprawling Furies cattle ranch from her equally headstrong father (Walter Huston in his final screen role). Adding to the boiling cauldron are Mexican squatters, a manipulative saloon keeper (Wendell Corey), and dad’s chiseling new bride (Judith Anderson). This is one weird, overheated movie, an odd combo of Western, film noir, and melodrama amped up to a Shakespearean degree. Stanwyck seems to be playing an exaggerated version of the kind of hard bitten dames she’s known for (even sporting bangs a la Double Indemnity’s Phyllis Dietrichson). Huston is even more overbearing; at times his loudmouthed character got so obnoxious I was idly thinking of creative ways to off him. Everything about this film is bombastic, even the score. I was expecting this to be subversive and fun like Johnny Guitar, but mostly it’s hokey and overworked. There are some unusual elements to recommend it, however, such as Stanwyck’s romance with a handsome Mexican played by Gilbert Roland. That was certainly an eye-opener; the film’s snappy dialogue and interesting cast helps.
poster_truestoryThe True Story of Lynn Stuart (1959). I DVR’d this off the Turner Classic Movies simply because I’d never heard of it and out of curiosity to see likable actress Betsy Palmer in something besides old episodes of I’ve Got A Secret. The True Story of Lynn Stuart is the tawdry tale of Palmer’s average California housewife who, incensed by drug activity in her neighborhood, becomes an undercover police agent attempting to break up the drug ring led by oily Jack Lord. Did I mention, it’s a true story? This low budget effort veers into somewhat campy territory when Palmer makes herself over into a tough ex-con to win Lord’s affections, an unconvincing ploy for both character and actress. The rest of the film is pretty standard true crime stuff. Palmer is awfully cute, however. It’s a shame that her lasting cinematic impression came as Jason’s loopy ma in the original Friday the 13th. At least she’s still with us — rock on, Betsy.
Visual Acoustics: The Modernism of Julius Shulman (2008). This recent documentary was the first movie we saw streamed on our Nintendo Wii via Netflix — a good watch for lovers of Midcentury Modern architecture and 20th century California style. The film follows the life and career of Julius Shulman, who made a name of himself photographing the iconic works of Richard Neutra, Frank Lloyd Wright, Rudolph Schindler, Albert Frey and others. His look was clean, casual and angular, as epitomized by his famous photo of Pierre Koenig’s Case Study House jutting out over the L.A. landscape. The film opens with Shulman in his nineties, admiring the random, overgrown beauty of his backyard garden. We then follow the still spry and talkative Shulman as he revisits some of the homes he photographed (including that Case Study House, still magnificent). If only for the fantastic photos and architecture, this is a worthwhile film. Shulman, who died in 2009, became an environmentalist and advocate for smart city planning later in his life. Which is odd, since the aesthetic of his best known photos extol the kind of personal paradise that suburban sprawl eventually helped to destroy. The film falls apart in its rambling last half hour, with Shulman and assistants attempting to organize the voluminous files in his office. Until then, however, the film is like a luxe architecture book come to life — all shiny planes and dreamy designer furniture.
Word Is Out (1977). This gay documentary was an intriguing addition to the TCM schedule. I’ve actually never heard of this supposedly important film before this month, and found it a very low key and enjoyable window into ’70s gay life (despite Christopher’s grumblings that we were somehow “ghettoizing” ourselves by watching it). This film is simply a string of interviews with several gays and lesbians, regular folk of varying races and economic strata speaking candidly about growing up, falling in love, and grappling with how the world perceives them. There’s a lot of fascinating talk about living underground in the ’40s and ’50s, being excommunicated from their families, etc. Some were even institutionalized and given horrific shock treatments, but despite all that most of the participants have an inner comfort that is inspirational to watch. The film is very ’70s granola, coming across like a wobbly, ultra-earnest PBS production (and musical segments of a serious womyn folkie and a male a cappella group doing “campy” oldies would make anyone cringe). Despite its flaws, the film should be required viewing for all LGBTs just to see where we came from — and straights could use the history lesson, as well. I wonder what the participants are doing now?

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