Weekly Mishmash: June 27-July 3
Boy 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.
Saludos 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.
Weekly Mishmash: May 16-22
Code Two (1953). Fun, documentary style flick about L.A.’s motorcycle cops. This film follows three men (Ralph Meeker, Robert Horton and Jeff Richards) as they go through arduous boot camp at the police academy (look fast for the same roadway from the Charlie’s Angels opening credits), make their way through office gruntwork, and finally earn their badges as motorcycle patrolmen. This film is awfully backward in its portrayal of manly men and their worried wives and girlfriends, and the many straightforward shots of people driving hogs around might make you reach for the nearest gun. It’s still fascinating from a historical point of view, however, with plenty of gritty footage straight out of an industrial training short. The film picks up a bit once the dramatic stuff gets under way, with rogue cop Meeker chasing down an underground cattle thieving ring. There’s also a scene where the hunky leads relax in bathing wear — nice!
Dead Again (1991). This is the third time I’ve seen this Kenneth Branagh/Emma Thompson thriller (it’s one of Christopher’s all time faves). It is one of those films that people either love or hate. Despite the film’s ludicrousness, I always fall for it, even to the point of not seeing the many “twist” plot points that get thrown at you like so many ham-handed scissor references. I think it’s because Branagh and Thompson are so committed to their characters, and they seem to be having a grand time playing both 1940s lovers and a contemporary pair who are not at all freaked that they physically resemble said 1940s couple.
Niagara Falls (1941). This breezy Hal Roach production was the latest offering in our cheap-o public domain comedy film fest. The print on our DVD was surprisingly crisp and clean looking, matched by comedy that was actually quite enjoyable on its own modest terms. The plot concerns a pair of young strangers (Marjorie Woodworth and Tom Brown) thrown together under unpleasant circumstances. When the two seek lodging at a Niagra Falls hotel, they are mistaken for newlyweds and booked in the same room. Although the two seem to have an easy way out (why don’t they just say they’re not married?), they are forced together via a zealous country hick (Slim Summerville) — much to the dismay of his long-suffering bride (ZaSu Pitts in full-on “oh dear” mode). A short, silly farce made watchable by a pleasant cast and slick production which could almost be mistaken for an MGM b-movie. The falls themselves appear through the magic of rear screen projection, by the way.
Night of the Comet (1984). I rented this expecting some good ’80s cheese; well, it’s cheesy alright but not so good. A comet hits earth, turning most of humanity to rust colored dust save for two vapid L.A. teens. The girls (Catherine Mary Stewart and Kelli Maroney) make their way to a neon-lit radio station, where they and a handsome stranger (Robert Beltran of Star Trek: Voyager) must elude zombies and mysterious agents who are coldly monitoring the trio. Interesting concept, but the production’s cheapness and plodding pace are a huge bummer. The film couldn’t decide whether the comet made people into dust or zombies, so they went with both and apparently hoped no one would notice. On the plus side I dug the ’80s shopping montage and the many shots of an empty downtown L.A. (shot at 5 a.m., perhaps?), and Stewart made for a nice, level-headed heroine.
The One and Only, Genuine, Original Family Band (1968). Another relic of Disney live action musical cheeriness from the ’60s. I find these flicks fascinating, but this 1880s-set opus left me puzzled. For one, the movie doesn’t really revolve much around the title band, preferring to stick with crusty grampa Walter Brennan’s political convictions (he’s a Democrat and Grover Cleveland supporter; son Buddy Ebsen is a Republican). Much time is also devoted to a romantic subplot with Lesley Ann Warren and John Davidson serenading each other to indistinct Sherman brothers songs. The family itself has too many kids who don’t have enough screen time to make an impression (even 14 year-old Kurt Russel gets lost in the shuffle) — a symbol of this pleasant yet overlong production. The one thing I did enjoy was the crafty “Ten Feet Off The Ground,” which can be better heard here on the great Café Apres Midi Meets Disney compilation.
Barbra Streisand — The Essential Barbra Streisand. Being a proper music loving queer, I decided to explore the rich catalog of Barbra Streisand on eMusic. At first I only wanted to get her first two “Greatest Hits” albums from 1970 and ‘78, but then I realized that the same credits could be used on this 2002 compilation with twice as many tracks. This set covers her first forty years in the biz in an even-handed fashion. Babs’ earliest stuff is the highlight, of course. From the opener “A Sleepin’ Bee” one can tell what a breath of fresh air she was, and old style singer’s singer with uniqueness and vitality. I’m delighted they put in the wonderfully sung “Don’t Rain On My Parade” and “On A Clear Day You Can See Forever,” but my favorite tune of hers is the rendition of Laura Nyro’s “Stoney End” — a song that by all rights could have been a hippie-dippy mistake, but Barbra’s enthusiasm makes it a joyous romp. From there on out, her music got more formulaic and overproduced as ironically her singing improved. I can admire the virtuosity in a “Papa Can You Hear Me?” from Yentl, but it’s missing the spark of something like “Lover, Come Back to Me” from 1963. Whoever compiled this tended to pick vocal virtuosity over hits (a nice tactic), which means entire albums are sometimes omitted. For example, I kinda wish they included something off 1984’s pop-oriented Emotion, but then again it would have destroyed the flow between the Yentl and Broadway Album selections. And there’s also the matter of everything post-’85 being such a crashing bore. It really says something that even when doing a snoozy ballad, though, the woman is like buttah.
Weekly Mishmash: May 2-8
Enchanted (2007). Disney’s self-mocking princess story was pretty much what I expected — entertaining and clever in spots, but too toothless to be truly effective satire. Amy Adams is perfectly cast as Giselle, a princess from a mythical animated kingdom who is banished by her jealous queen (Susan Sarandon) to the unforgivable streets of a live action New York City. Adams’ guileless performance, seemingly influenced by Snow White, is delightful and totally spot-on. I also enjoyed the meticulously crafted animated segments early on, but as the movie progressed the letdowns accumulated. For one, I thought there were too many characters. Having Giselle meet cute with McDreamy widower Patrick Dempsey was the first of many pat and predictable twists to come. By the arrival of a chaotic climax underscored with a friggin’ Carrie Underwood tune, I tuned out. Final verdict: too Disney, too Rom Com, too mainstream. The film would have been so much more effective had it stuck with a simple “princess in another world” theme.
The House Across the Bay (1940). Turner Classic Movies recently did a night full of films starring the impenetrable George Raft, including this San Francisco-set drama co-starring Joan Bennett. Raft plays a gangster (of course) who falls for and marries nightclub singer Bennett. He is shipped to Alcatraz and Bennett plays the faithful wife until Walter Pidgeon enters the picture. Decent stuff, nothing spectacular. This was an independent production by Bennett’s then-husband Walter Wanger, a fact that becomes evident once the impeccably lit, made up and gowned Bennett walks into the camera frame (the lady even looks elegant while serenading a chihuahua!). The film unravels somewhat predictably until the always watchable Gladys George comes in as a peppery prison wife.
Tokyo Sonata (2008). Interesting at times, mostly preposterous Japanese family drama about a man who deals with his sudden unemployment by pretending he was never laid off. To keep up appearances with his unsuspecting family, he spends his days at a downtown Tokyo park amongst the homeless and other men in the same situation. This has some effective scenes (mostly involving the family’s youngest son and his fascination with a pretty piano teacher), but as it slowly moves along it becomes progressively more strange. I know the Japanese are well known for emotional restraint and preserving honor amongst blood relatives, but this movie takes that concept to such extremes I almost wonder if it’s supposed to be a parody.
The Unknown Woman (2006). Fun, over-the-top foreign suspenser about a Ukranian woman (Xenia Rappoport) who moves to Italy to escape her sordid past as a prostitute. She worms her way into the lives of an affluent family by becoming the nanny to a young girl with whom she has vague ties, a setup that starts working in her favor until her nasty-ass pimp shows up. This movie was so overproduced and unsubtle (in an entertaining way) that it’s hard to believe it comes from the same guy who directed Cinema Paradiso. It plays like a Euro-centric spin on all those Brian De Palma guilty pleasure thrillers from the ’80s, complete with overly dramatic acting, camerawork and score (from Ennio Morricone, of all people). Recommended if you like that sort of thing.
Book Review: Designing Disney
Reading John Hench’s Designing Disney: Imagineering and the Art of the Show reminded me a bit of my trip to Las Vegas last December. Although we usually think of Imagineering in terms of Disney theme parks, the core ideas of the job apply to most anywhere people gather to relax and have fun. In that respect, Vegas must be the biggest example of Imagineering on Earth. While exploring the various casinos, I was very aware of how everything was designed in a way to create a world away from the world, preferably to get patrons plopped down at the slots. While some casinos treat this idea as an afterthought, the immersive themeing of places like New York New York or Paris, Las Vegas (where even the men’s bathrooms have a quaint “Paris in 1900″ aura) never failed to impress. It made me wish that everything in my life was Imagineered.
Which brings me to this book! Amongst Disney Imagineers, John Hench had the most durability (having served at Disney for an astonishing 65 years) and was the one whose ambition and scope most resembled Walt Disney’s own. He’s the one responsible for conceptualizing much of Disneyland’s Tomorrowland (original and 1967 remodel), the Enchanted Tiki Room and Main Street U.S.A. Beautiful achievements all, and all the more impressive when one realizes the work encompasses architecture, signage, interior design, costumes and even the floors below guests’ feet. The proof of this is displayed throughout the book in fabulous renderings that called to mind the work of Syd Mead. Check out the costume designs below — wonderful!
The renderings are really what makes this book special. Unfortunately the great imagery is offset with lousy, unprofessional looking fonts. Hench’s text itself (co-authored with Peggy Van Pelt) is rather rudimentary and textbook-like; I would picture the ideal audience for this book as young would-be Imagineers in their teens. Despite those disappointments, there are a lot of great anecdotes in here. I was especially fascinated with how Hench and his fellow Imagineers explored color possibilities for a hotel exterior in Disneyland Paris by factoring in the area’s climate and lack of sunlight at various times of the day. Tiny details like that are something that an ordinary theme park guest would never consider, but added together they complete the immersive experience. All in a day’s work for Mr. Hench.
Weekly Mishmash: April 11-17
Cradle Will Rock (1999). Tim Robbins’ chaotic yet timely film chronicles the staging of the most notorious play produced by the WPA in the 1930s, Marc Blitzstein’s union-friendly musical Cradle Will Rock. We saw this in the theater when it was originally released and it still holds up. It’s interesting to revisit it during this quasi-Depression time and note how familiar the anti-socialist hysteria portrayed here is. I don’t think this is a perfect film; it’s too wide-ranging in scope and Robbins succumbs all too often to the “keep the camera moving” bug that also afflicted Stephen Fry when he did Bright Young Things. Some scenes are excellently staged and acted, while others are done in an offhand, parodic manner which makes me wonder how historically accurate everything is. Among the huge cast, the only true villains are Bill Murray’s cracked vaudevillian and the uppity case worker played by Joan Cusack. Generally I liked the cast, except perhaps Susan Sarandon hamming it up as a flamboyant Italian diplomat. My favorite was Cherry Jones as Hallie Flanagan, the headstrong manager of the WPA’s theatre division. She completely rocks, and has a beautiful speaking voice to boot (I kept thinking she’d be so much better than Oprah at narrating the nature documentary series Life).
Hollywood and Vine (1945). Another offering in our “cheapie public domain comedies of yore” series! Hollywood and Vine was another cruddy yet genial and fast-paced production from P.R.C. In it, aspiring actress Wanda McKay meets screenwriter James Ellison on her way to Hollywood. She brushes the amorous gent off, but eventually relents when the two end up rooming in the same apartment complex. The pair also become parents to a talented mutt (Daisy, best known as the family pup from the Blondie movies) who becomes a canine movie star. Yep, this movie doesn’t make a lick of sense, and the best celebrity cameo they could come up with was the fake Russian prince who ran Hollywood eatery Romanoff’s. McKay and Ellison are both unbelievably bland actors with zero screen presence, but at least we have the reliable Franklin Pangborn on hand as a soda jerk. Typical of this film’s flights of fancy is the scene where Ellison persuades McKay’s character from dismissive to “I’m giving it all up to marry you and have lotsa babies” in thirty seconds flat.
The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977). I know I must have seen this movie when it originally came out, but even so this compilation of the first three Disney Winnie the Pooh shorts is so awash in lyrical, pastel-colored charm that one can’t help but feel a nostalgic pang with it. These films date from 1966-74, the last gasp of classic old guard Disney animation. The stories are silly, leisurely paced and Disneyfied to a fault, but I love the way they incorporated the A. A. Milne book itself into the action, such as when a rush of water washes the words off the page. This DVD included a bonus Pooh short from 1983, which was as plodding and charmless as the trio in this film were magical. It just goes to prove that when they had it, they really had it.
Michael Clayton (2007). I had to chuckle when I read the Netflix reviews on this complaining that it was too talky and boring. Fact is, this was an excellent legal thriller with an absorbing story played by a cast at the top of their game (including Tilda Swinton, somewhat Jodie Fosterish as a dangerously ambitious careerist). The hard to please Christopher actually ranks this and Departures as the two best movies we’ve seen this year.
Word Jong Party. We’re not huge gamers around here, unless you count the pre-Facebook edition of Scrabble. We do, however, enjoy some of the less threatening stuff on the Wii — such as the farming sim Harvest Moon: Tree Of Tranquility. In that game, the most harmful thing you can do is piss somebody off by gifting them with a stinky hunk of algae fished out of the ocean. Lately we’ve been enjoying Word Jong Party, which is basically maj-jongg played with lettered tiles. You advance through the game by making words, the longer the better. Completely harmless and fun, and a bit easy for us Scrabble vets, but the graphics are cute and each day brings a brand new puzzle to enjoy.
It Blowed Up Real Good
I want to have something different to share today, video-wise. How about Disney animator Ward Kimball’s very un-Disney 1968 short, Escalation?
Monday: Downtown Trudgery
Our Los Angeles trip report continues.
- Monday — We set aside an entire today to do an architectural walking tour of downtown. Lots of research online and through Charles Moore’s wonderful book Los Angeles: The City Observed taught me that there’s an overabundance of great buildings around here, from the public library to Frank Gehry’s Disney Concert Hall. We wanted to see it all, and so we got an early start. Our first stop was the furthest away — the Eastern Columbia Building, tucked away several blocks to the south. I was a bit leery about walking that far on an empty stomach first thing in the morning, but it was totally worth it. This building is a total Art Deco vision in shades of periwinkle and teal. I would have loved to have seen the giant clock all lit up at night. We walked down Broadway towards breakfast, checking out the mixture of fellow walkers along the way. This area used to be a swanky destination; now it’s a mixture of the homeless, Hispanic shops and upscale condos. There’s also a lot of old theaters in various states of disrepair. We arrived at our next site, and breakfast at the famed Clifton’s Cafeteria. This eatery used to be a chain; the Broadway location is the last remaining one. I took a ton of pictures in this kitschy delight, starting with the delightful terrazzo tilework in front. The woodsy-themed dining room was a bit worn down, but totally charming. We got our trays, filled with run of the mill but tasty food, and settled down upstairs (I wonder if they have a lot of stair-related accidents there?). After finishing, we noticed a third floor, closed off to diners. Being the braver one of the two, Christopher decided to venture up there despite the floor being completely dark. We found a great little museum of Clifton’s memorabilia. An employee found us looking around. Instead of getting angry and kicking us out, he offered to turn the lights on for us! At least it gave us an opportunity to see things better. Bellies filled, we continued walking Northward towards the Little Tokyo district. There were a few independent bookstores I wanted to check out, but it was still early and they were closed. In Little Tokyo, there was a Japanese bookstore called Kunokuniya that looked intriguing. Luckily once we got there they were open for business. What a place! Shelves of manga, books on every kind of Japanese subject imaginable, and tons of beyond cute stationery, craft supplies and (my favorite) toys. We spent 80 bucks there. From here we walked towards City Hall and took more photos. This was the tallest building in L.A. when it was erected in 1928, and even today it impresses. Strangely, it never occurred to us that you could tour the building until a gentleman seeing us staring brought it up with Christopher. We got our passes and took a succession of elevators all the way to the top, where open balconies allow you to see the city vistas from all four sides. It was wonderful, and we had that whole top floor to ourselves! The building contains a lot of neat Deco-era details everywhere, making it the highlight of the day. Out of City Hall, we were getting ready to head back to the hotel when we suddenly remembered two other L.A. landmarks that still needed seeing — the Bradbury Building and Angels Flight. The Bradbury isn’t much to look at from the outside, but the interior central court is justifiably famous for its beauty. I’ve dug this building ever since seeing it in Blade Runner, and experiencing it for real was a genuine pleasure (as seen in the photo above). Angels Flight came next. Unfortunately, this famous hillside trolley is closed indefinitely — but that didn’t stop us from snapping a few pics of the bright red boxcar. By this time, it was mid-afternoon and our feet were getting tired. We went back to the hotel for a rest and change of clothes. Not for long however, since our next stop was Disney Concert Hall. This place was gorgeous, especially with a second floor garden winding around the back. I loved how the interior was such a complete design, right down to the custom font used on the lobby’s donor wall. We took the hour long audio tour, which was apparently popular since there were lots of other tourists wandering around the place carrying those unique audio wands that day. I took several shots of Gehry’s famous undulating walls on that perfectly sunny afternoon. Our final stop that day was the Los Angeles Public Library, thankfully located close to the Westin. This is another gorgeous Art Deco structure, although by this time we were too tired to fully appreciate it. The library happened to be hosting a show of drawings and sketches by the architect Richard Neutra, so we spent a good 45 minutes or so looking at that. Anyone in the area should check that out. Feet and backs aching, we trudged back to our hotel — tired but happy that we had such an eventful day.
