Forsaking All Others
Over the weekend, the spouse and I caught Married Life starring Chris Cooper, Pierce Brosnan and the wonderful Patricia Clarkson. While we both enjoyed this neo-Hitchcock period drama very much, I loved the opening credits sequence. This was created by the Venice, California based Prologue studio. Loverly:
Weekly Mishmash: April 18-24
Caprice (1967). I can definitely see why Doris Day and Richard Harris’ mod ’60s spy spoof was a flop in ‘67; it’s unfocused — swerving violently from comedy hijinks to romantic drama — frustrating to follow, badly edited, and suffering from serious lack of chemistry between the leads. As broadly directed by Frank Tashlin, the comedy pushes beyond pointlessness. Doris is game, but she’s miscast as an international spy investigating a cosmetics empire. In a way, this film played like a less bloated, lower wattage Casino Royale. There are a couple of elements that make this worth a peek for those into high ’60s visuals. Day is outfitted in a dated yet stunning wardrobe of Op Art minis and checkerboard sunglasses thanks to designer Ray Aghayan, and Leon Shamroy’s widescreen photography has a breathtaking lushness, even when the set designs are not (I’d describe the interiors as Rococo Puke). The climactic scene, filmed in L.A.’s classic Bradbury Building, gave us a little thrill — as it did when the historic site showed up in a recent FlashForward episode. That elevator, those tiles — we were there!
Marshall Crenshaw – The Best Of Marshall Crenshaw: This Is Easy. Could “Someday Someway” be the coolest pop hit from the ’80s? My first eMusic download of the month was a byproduct of the site’s recent acquisition of the huge Rhino/Warner Bros. catalog. The official download edition of this 2000 CD, unfortunately, is missing a few songs — a fact that Rhino conveniently neglects to mention on the site (gee, and they wonder why illegal downloading is so popular?). That quibble aside, this was an excellent power pop compilation which drives much of its affable energy from a good dosage of Crenshaw’s first two albums (1982’s Marshall Crenshaw and 1983’s Field Day). With ’85’s Downtown, Crenshaw went for a more rootsy sound and kicked off a less accessible but equally worthwhile period. What strikes me about his later stuff is that it sounds nearly identical to mainstream Country music as it became more pop-oriented in the ’00s. “Someplace Where Love Can’t Find Me” would be perfectly at home between Carrie Underwood and Kenny Chesney on any current C&W radio station.
Divorce, Italian Style (1961). Shrill but entertaining Italian sex comedy with mustachioed Marcello Mastroianni as a beleaguered man given to fantasizing about ways to off his pinhead wife so he can take up with his flirty cousin. Briskly paced, creatively made, and Mastroianni is an excellent heel, but did I mention it’s shrill? Everybody talks loudly, the soundtrack is annoying, and after a while it gets to be too much. The first half contains some great comedy, however.
Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009). This one took me by surprise — mostly because it came from Wes Anderson, whose films I absolutely loathe (okay, I’ve only seen The Royal Tennenbaums — but that was such a turd of a movie that I’m too scared to see any of his other efforts). This is an adaptation of a Roald Dahl story about a cunning fox (voiced by a somewhat too recognizable George Clooney) who has to give up his foxy ways to raise a family. When the brood moves back to his old stomping grounds, he can’t resist going back to performing elaborate heists on the three food factories nearby. This was such a sweet, adorable movie with a stunning visual design heavy on the gold tones. I loved the variety used in the character designs, from the elongated foxes to the corpulent factory owner. The animation, which I originally thought looked too jerky in the previews, flows beautifully throughout. I even loved the film’s snarky but not too contemporary sense of humor. Actually, everything about this movie was pitch-perfect; I even enjoyed it more than 2009’s other animated critical darling Up. Wes Anderson outdoing Pixar, who’da thunk it.
It’s a Wonderful World (1939). A movie that I’ve always been curious about; I finally got to catch it on TCM one recent morning. A big budget MGM production starring Claudette Colbert and James Stewart, it’s surprising that this “on the lam” comedy rarely registers with fans of either star. Having seen it, however, I can see why. This is your basic It Happened One Night rehash, only the sparks Colbert had with Clark Gable settles into a mere flicker with Stewart. Both actors give it a valiant try, and they certainly are charming here individually with a script that plays up their respective strengths (befuddlement for Jimmy, determination for Claudette). The plot, about police investigator Stewart trying to nab a criminal while being unlawfully pursued with daffy poetess Colbert in tow, is too lightweight — and the characters spend too much time pointlessly arguing — for me to care.
Official Book Club Selection: A Memoir by Kathy Griffin. An anniversary gift, Christopher enjoyed this one so much he lent it to me with his endorsement — sure enough, it is a dishy and surprisingly candid treat. We’re huge Kathy fans going back before her My Life on the D-List success, and seeing her live (sitting in front of her then-hubby Matt!) was such a blast. This book is pretty much what I expected, with Kathy breezing through her boisterous childhood, her early, lean years in Hollywood, her short-lived marriage, the struggle of being imperfect in a business that only accepts perfect bodies and faces, and finally success on her own fabulous terms. What I like best about her is that she’s a straight talker and totally self-deprecating in an endearing way. This book reads exactly as if Kathy were right there dishing with you, and in that respect she (and/or her ghost-writer?) deserves the celeb memoir A-list award.
Three Husbands (1951). This was a nice gem hidden in our “50 cheap old comedies” DVD set — a sex-inversed Letter to Three Wives tribute with a bit of All About Eve sophistication thrown in. Though it doesn’t approach the artistry of either, it’s still an intriguing look at the mores of 1950s marriage with a decent cast including the marvelous Eve Arden, Howard da Silva, Emlyn Williams and Ruth Warrick. Like Letter, this is told mostly in flashback with Williams posthumously informing his three best friends that he cheated with all of their wives. Interesting film, mostly for the way it treats male/female roles in the context of the early ’50s, but entertaining as well.
Weekly Mishmash: October 11-17
Day for Night (1973). I saw this François Truffaut film a long, long time ago, but didn’t remember much about it except for the precarious balcony set used in one of the filming-within-a-film scenes. A re-viewing reveals that while there’s a lot about this film that is dated and clumsy, it’s actually compelling and truly a love letter to how film captivates us. Truffaut does double duty as he directs and plays a director making a fictional film. The fact that the film they’re working on is a mediocre romantic drama is beside the point as the viewer follows the various overlapping stories of those both in front and behind the camera. It reminded me of what Robert Altman was doing at the same time. Truffaut has a gift for conveying depth-filled characters in not much screen time. I enjoyed it.
Doris Day: Her Own Story by A.E. Hotchner. I was somewhat leery about this autobiography. It seemed too bland and Pollyannaish, but now that I’ve finished it I can understand why it was a best seller upon its publication in 1975. Doris Day writes about her life, films, marriages and affairs with a candidness that helped dispel her virgin-next-door image, but it’s her engaging optimism and good cheer in facing life’s problems that comes to the fore throughout these pages. She does dwell too much on her religious beliefs and the bankruptcy court case following the death of third husband Marty Melcher (who comes across as a complete user and a slimebag). I like her earthy attitude towards working and movie stardom, and her love of animals is something to admire. Even the housewifey tips on beauty and fashion she includes in the book’s coda are fun.
Every Little Step (2008), Herb & Dorothy (2008) and Inventing L.A.: The Chandlers and Their Times (2009). A good week for documentaries! Every Little Step chronicles the audition process for the recent revival of A Chorus Line, drawing parallels between the actors and the characters they’re vying for. Along the way, we hear about the original Chorus Line and Michael Bennett’s efforts to get it onstage. I wish the film had focused more on the original and not the remake, but overall it was very good. Mostly what stood out here is that young performers of today are more polished and hard-bodied, but no less enthusiastic, than their counterparts in the mid-’70s. Don’t know if that’s a bad thing or not. Herb & Dorothy was an installment of PBS’s Independent Lens about a couple who, despite limited means, became a powerhouse in the art collecting world. They hobnob with minimalist and conceptual artists, piling up pieces of art in their shoebox-sized apartment in scenes that are both touching and a little scary. Luckily their collection found a good home in Washington D.C.’s National Gallery. From a personal standpoint, watching Inventing L.A.: The Chandlers and Their Times proved fascinating because we were just in Los Angeles and had a good look at many places seen there. This doc basically follows the explosive growth of L.A. in the 20th century through the family that arguably was most responsible for those changes. The angles covering the Los Angeles Times and its varying editorial viewpoints over the decades were so neat and slickly told. The film also uses a lot of great vintage footage of downtown L.A. and landmarks such as Angels Point and City Hall. Perfect.
Girls of the Road (1940). Grimy b-movie from Columbia studios is surprisingly brisk and fun. The luminous Ann Dvorak headlines as a governor’s daughter who decides to investigate her state’s problem with female hoboes by becoming one herself. Dvorak befriends a hardened traveler (Helen Mack, wonderful), gets involved in a police roundup, and discovers a secret all-female hideout in the woods. Nothing earth shattering here, but I enjoyed the interplay between the mostly female cast. There’s a lot of quasi-lesbian subtext here, especially with the tough, uninhibited performance of Lola Lane as the self appointed leader of a gang of women. I had previously known Lane in nothing roles alongside her sisters Rosemary and Priscilla; here she’s a revelation and totally fascinating to watch.
Home from the Hill (1960). Overlong manly melodrama oddly directed by Vincente Minnelli. This is a long-winded tale of a dysfunctional Texas family consisting of parents Robert Mitchum and Eleanor Parker and their tormented wimp of a son, George Hamilton. A hunky George Peppard is also on hand as Mitchum’s illegitimate son. The film had a few interesting scenes, and I love the woodsy look of Mitchum’s hunting lair (it reminded me of the basement in my grandparents’ house). Mostly, however, the film was beyond dull. I actually got more entertainment out of reading about this film’s production in Stephen Harvey’s Directed by Vincente Minnelli book (Harvey seems to have liked it better than me).
