Flick Clique: December 4-10
Buffering (2011). A gay sex comedy from Britain that I’m reviewing for DVD Talk. Buffering follows a gay couple, Seb and Aaron (appealingly played by Alex Anthony and Conner McKenzy) as one partner decides to upload secret recordings of the couple having sex to the internet in order to make some extra cash on the side. The secret is eventually revealed to the other guy. Instead of stopping the enterprise dead in its tracks, they end up raking in more bucks as their popularity spreads. A female ex-roomie (Jessica Matthews) catches on and encourages the men to take on a new recruit, including the hunky guy (Oliver Park) who lives next door. Lots of promise here, but the already lightweight concept is stretched to its limit and the micro-budget lets it down. The guys are cute (especially Park), but I’ve seen better sexy gay comedies. A longer review will be posted at DVD Talk soon.
The Other Love (1947). I found this otherwise unavailable Barbara Stanwyck flick on Netflix streaming a few months ago and have been dying to see it ever since. This is a standard romantic melodrama about a concert pianist (Stanwyck) who goes to a sanitarium to overcome tuberculosis. David Niven as her doctor tries to keep her on the path to health, but she’s tempted by the outside world when meeting a fellow patient (the terrific Joan Lorring) who teaches her how to duck out of the place at night, when no one is watching. Niven finds himself falling for Stanwyck, but she’s lured away to Monaco by flashy race car driver Richard Conte. Will she come to her senses, or die a glamorous young high roller? A silly story is given depth by a luminous Stanwyck. I was pretty impressed by the glossy photography and production values (this was produced by James Whale’s longtime lover at an independent studio by the name of Anglo American Films). Stanwyck also looks great decked out in several glam outfits designed by Edith Head. Not an essential film, but enjoyable all the same.
Portrait in Black (1960). I have a strong weakness for campy ’60s melodrama, especially if it stars a fading glamour queen like Lana Turner and is produced by a kitschmeister like Ross Hunter. Portrait in Black is a veritable jackpot of overheated, so bad but soooo good theatrics — I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one before! Lana plays a San Francisco socialite married to abusive shipping magnate Lloyd Nolan. She and the husband’s doctor, Anthony Quinn, are secret lovers who arrange to off the poor guy in a discreet way. Although their plan is pulled off successfully, a whole host of suspicious supporting players threaten to blow their cover. Among them are Sandra Dee as Lana’s stepdaughter, Richard Basehart as Nolan’s greedy business associate (who’s also in love with Lana), Ray Walston as the family chauffer, and Anna May Wong as the imperious head maid (you can tell she’s evil because sinister “Asian” music plays whenever she’s onscreen). The ending is a riot, strangely abrupt and just dying for a sequel which never came to be, alas.
The Leopard (1963). This acclaimed Italian historical drama is directed by Luchino Visconti and features Burt Lancaster as a gruff prince who is desperately trying to preserve his family’s integrity amidst the political upheaval of 1860s Sicily. A lushly photographed, wonderful to look at, weirdly plodding and alienating film. I suppose I’d glean more on it if I knew more about Italian political history from that time, but I found it overlong and (regrettably) dull. Lancaster does well with acting outside his native tongue, however, and I found a lot to enjoy in Alain Delon and Claudia Cardinale simply because they were two gorgeous people — and their characters are earthy and real in a welcome way. A lot of this film plays like a little historical documentary, and I dug how the background villagers and such are just seen going about their lives in a startlingly natural way. Overall, I just couldn’t get into it, however.
The Vampire’s Ghost (1945). Last weekend, I ended up catching a bug and getting sick. I was bored and had nothing else to watch, so I dialed up this 59 minute long b-thriller on Netflix instant. The film follows a group of American explorers as they settle in an African outpost. The sinister looking white guy who runs the outpost (John Abbott) is pleasant enough at first, but soon the explorers find that he’s a hundreds-year old vampire — and he wants to recruit the explorers into the bloodsucking life! The film is underwhelming for the most part, but there are some decent (for 1945) special effects shots and campy moments to keep it a watchable little horror flick.
WALL•E (2008). I’ve owned this on DVD for almost two years; finally we got to re-watch it this past week. It’s still a wonderful film (particularly the first half), although the second at-home viewing is not quite as magical as viewing it in the theater.
Women’s Prison (1955). This fun prison melodrama came out a few years ago as part of a Bad Girls of Film Noir DVD box set. It’s not really Noir, but the film stands on its own as an absorbing, often times over-the-top drama that comes off like a cousin to the superior Caged (1950). Set in a facility that houses female and male prisoners in separate quarters, the film begins with two new inmates getting booked — jaded but sympathetic Brenda (Jan Sterling) and shrinking violet Helene (Phyllis Thaxter). We then get introduced to several prisoners, including a phalanx of African-American women headed by kindly Juanita Moore, who reveal that they’re being abused daily by the staff overseen by hard-bitten Ida Lupino. Thaxter eventually goes nuts, and Audrey Totter as another inmate eventually finds she’s in a family way with her husband, an inmate in the men’s quarters. It isn’t top-notch drama, but I found it fast paced and quite enjoyable with a lot of vividly drawn characters. Strangely enough, the prison itself doesn’t seem too bad! Sterling was my favorite, followed by Lupino and Totter. Lupino’s real-life husband Howard Duff appears as the prison’s doctor, an ally for the inmates and harsh critic of the policies held by the ice-veined Lupino.
Flick Clique: May 29-June 4
Good Hair (2009). Fun, if somewhat frustrating, Chris Rock-directed documentary on black women’s hair and the lengths they go to straighten and style it. Rock interviews a not-too-diverse group of subjects (mostly models and actresses) who opine on why the caucasian ideal of straight, “perfect” hair has such a pull on the African-American community. He also examines the phenomenon of women getting costly weave treatments and having disgusting, goopy chemicals slathered on their heads, all in the name of beauty. His message doesn’t go any deeper than “Can you believe what these crazy bitches are doing to themselves?” but it’s an okay doc with a few funny moments. Most of the absurdity comes from an annual hair care convention and a competition in which some stylists compete to see who could mount the most flashy ‘do cutting production number.
The Last Days of Disco (1999). An oddity of a film which forms the final chapter in writer-director Whit Stillman’s trilogy on witty Manhattanites (Metropolitan and Barcelona were the first two). Period piece Last Days takes place mostly in the confines of a chic disco as sexy assistant book editors Kate Beckinsale and Chloe Sevigny deal with men and the search for fulfillment as their favorite music genre and lifestyle fades into the yuppie ’80s. The film is beautifully scripted but all over the place, story-wise, and suffering from a crucial lack of fidelity to the period it takes place in (Beckinsale’s ’90s bob being the main offender). I actually enjoyed this a lot more than the often dry Metropolitan, however, and I think it’s due to the appealing leads, that fabulous soundtrack, and above all the witty script. I also thought the club itself was a wonderful setting, even if as veteran clubgoer Christopher notes, no real disco would have had plush conversation pits — much less a place where people could actually hear each other talk. One has to wonder if Stillman already had his script prepared before the studio imposed a nostalgic, glittering disco theme over it. The disco/club setting is almost incidental to the characters’ musings, some of which are gold (the conversation on Lady and the Tramp and what it symbolizes is a highlight). Strange, like I said, but worthwhile all the same. Now I’m really curious about Barcelona — and Stillman’s forthcoming Damsels in Distress.
The Purchase Price (1932). Another hard-hitting William Wellman melodrama from the Forbidden Hollywood, Vol. 3 DVD set. This one stars Barbara Stanwyck, doing one of her usual hard-bitten dames. She’s a torch singer who, fleeing some New York baddies, decides to take another woman’s place as the mail-order bride of a lonely farmer (miscast George Brent). Most of the film consists of Stanwyck trying her best to ingratiate herself with befuddled Brent and his rowdy, uncouth neighbors. I remember not being too impressed with this when I first saw it, but now I find it enjoyable, if far from prime Pre-Code Stanwyck. The stars are attractive together and Wellman keeps things moving with several offbeat supporting characters (the shy farm girl played by pre-fame Anne Shirley, for instance). This set was a great gift that helps satisfy the lack of TCM in my life!
The Sandpiper (1965). Another Elizabeth Taylor movie I put on my queue. This time Taylor plays a free-spirited Big Sur artist and proto-home schooler whose son is forced to attend a parochial school overseen by Richard Burton. Faster than you can say “Liz and Dick,” the two embark on a torrid affair in between heavy conversations on the nature of love and ownership. I knew this Vincente Minnelli romp was pretty bad going in, but I was hoping it would be campier than the plodding end result proved to be. Most of the film’s misguidedness comes from its treatment of Taylor and her quasi-hippie friends, which are about as wild and threatening as a bunch of Hulaballoo dancers. Taylor and Burton get a lot of meaty dialogue to chew on, but it’s ponderous stuff. What little I dug here came from Taylor’s wardrobe (it couldn’t have been easy costuming the lady, entering her blowsy stage at this point) and the fabulous from the outside, stagy from the inside “shack” that her character resides in. Many IMDb reviewers praised Johnny Mandel’s score (which includes the inescapable EZ-listening classic “Shadow of Your Smile”), but I found it as dull and TV movie-ish as the rest of the film.
Sitting on the Moon (1936). Brief, airy musical that has found its way onto many a public domain DVD set (viewable online here, as well). Sitting served as a vehicle for pretty actress Grace Bradley, who married Western star William Boyd shortly after this film came to be. Bradley plays a singer whose career is on the outs when her songwriter boyfriend pens a jaunty melody for her (the title tune, repeated ad nauseam) which lands the woman a featured singer gig on a top radio hour. She becomes a star while he lands in obscurity, until another song and complications involving a gold-digging hussy (Joyce Compton!) change things around for the hapless guy. Pretty forgettable fluff — this is a musical built around two songs, remember — but it does have a cute lead and the title tune is quite a charmer. See for yourself:
Weekly Mishmash: June 20-26
The 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.
The 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?
