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2nd Thots On MAD MAX: FURY ROAD

16/01/2016

Let me explain the circumstances behind my re-watching Mad Max: Fury Road so as to better explain my additional thoughts on the film.

Along the way we will eventually drag in
Stephen King and The Horror Of Party Beach.

Soon-ok is a light sleeper, so if the volume on the TV downstairs is above a whisper — particularly for an action film — I run the risk of waking her when I watch movies late at night.

To compensate for the volume being waaaay down, I turn on the closed caption subtitles. This actually makes it a lot easier to track most modern films.

I re-watched Mad Max: Fury Road the night after the last GOP debate. Reading the dialog as opposed to hearing it thunderously shouted at me on a theater sound system sparked a couple of thoughts.

First off, it’s lousy pretentious dialog. George Miller & co get away with it by keeping the pace and spectacle so huge and over-the-top that you only catch a few phrases and ideas tossed out here and there.

Mad Max: Fury Road doesn’t do a lot to develop those ideas, and a lot of them (like the entire premise of the movie) would collapse under their own weight if examined too closely, but they go ripping by so fast that when you do catch them they sound Really Important and, like much of the rest of the movie, we fill in vast blank spots on the mental canvas with our own imaginations.

Which is okay:
Mad Max: Fury Road is a popcorn movie and is meant to be enjoyed as a visceral experience.

And as a visceral experience, it is enjoyable.

So call this a post-apocalypse motor-fantasy, not an actual bonafide sci-fi movie, and have a good time.

But reading the dialog made me recognize how much the language of the GOP debates parallels it.

I’m not talking about the weasely obfuscation found in standard issue political / diplomatic discourse, but rather the very specific ways the bulk of the GOP candidates use language. [1]

A fast pulp writer could turn this whole election cycle into a Mad Max pastiche with no real difficulty.[2]

In the film, Immortan Joe uses language not so much to convey information as to trigger responses in his followers.

They literally hear what they want to hear, and a catch phrase tossed out at the right moment will trigger a reaction that Immortan Joe can exploit.

The war boys can not explain their reactions, they can not analyze why they do the things they do. They have been conditioned to respond and respond they will, even when it’s painfully obvious it’s against their own self-preservation, much less self-interest.

In fact, only when Nux thinks of himself as cast out of Immortan Joe’s blessed circle does he take even the most rudimentary steps towards analyzing his own personal situation.

So how does this tie in to big Steve King
and The Horror Of Party Beach?

Well, in his book Danse Macabre[3], King writes about how the lowest forms of pop culture can tap into the cultural gestalt at a basic, more intrinsic, more primal level than high brow art.

Case in point:
When the makers of The Horror Of Party Beach wanted to make a movie about hideous monsters attacking slumber parties full of teenage girls, their explanation of where the monsters came from was a short sequence showing leaky drums labeled “Radioactive Waste” being dumped into the ocean.

An A-production from a major studio on the topic of handling nuclear waste would have taken years to get produced; it would have faced both political and business pressure not to denigrate such an important industry so vital to America’s future. It would have required A Major Star or three as well as Some Very Important Writers and it would be all yak-yak-yak and in the end not a single person would have had their mind changed because by the time said film actually reached said eyeballs, their audience would have predetermined if they believed those liberal Hollywood types or not.

But The Horror Of Party Beach just chucks a couple of cans into the water, shows a couple of monsters evolving from the muck, and bingo! – next thing ya know they’re attempting to devour and/or mate with teen girls in negligees.[4]

Stephen King’s point was that instead of rationalizing it, the makers of The Horror Of Party Beach just tapped in on something they instinctively knew everybody else instinctively knew: It was not a good idea to dump radioactive waste into the ocean, yet if there was a buck to be made doing so, somebody or some business would do so.

Mad Max: Fury Road is a film about
the end of civilization as we know it.

And, no, not in the obvious manner you think:
On that level it’s just another mindless action movie, and you could change the costumes and the location and the handwaveum and turn it into a Bond film or a Star Wars movie or a Harry Potter adventure and get pretty much the same superficial story / spectacle.

No, it’s not about blowing things up and then people ride really cool junk cars out in the middle of the desert: It’s about the triumvirate of religion / business / defense finally collapsing. It’s about white boys, the staunchest supporters of that triumvirate, finding themselves replaced and superseded and ultimately ignored by a new non-white boy culture.

“It’s the end of  the
world as we know it,”

sang R.E.M.,
“but I feel fine.”

What Miller & co have done, in their brilliantly brainless fashion, is to cut through all the obfuscating bullshit of talking head TV pundits and show what all of us instinctively know: Established organized religion is empty; big business can not even recognize its own self-interest if it doesn’t mean an immediate profit; defense is never about protecting anyone.

There is, like it or not, a new world being born around us. It is a world that, for ill or for good, is going to be much more responsive to the needs and objectives of the non-whites and the non-boys.

Mad Max: Fury Road calls its white boys “half-lifes”. They are recognized even by themselves as being a dying breed, kept alive only by the machinations of Immortan Joe and The People Eater and The Bullet Farmer; kept alive to serve them in exchange for a promise dangled in front of the white boys, a promise neither Immortan Joe nor his ”brothers”[5] intend to keep — in fact, that none of them are actually capable of keeping.

That’s the old world we have let the greedheads build, the one that can no longer be sustained, the one that’s unraveling and in that process terrifying those who bought into the false promises and now live in abject horror that the powerball lottery will be closed before they have their chance to become multi-millionaires.

That is what Mad Max: Fury Road is all about.

It’s not a hopeless message, and it does show a way out for those who have invested heavily in the old system (such as Nux): White boys can recognize that change is upon them and help birth that new world, but instead of trying to dominate it, be prepared to step back and serve it.[6]

So in retrospect, I have somewhat modified
my opinion of Mad Max: Fury Road.

It’s a good movie,
but not a great film.[7]

And that’s a good thing, because if it had been any better, if it had been any smarter, it could have never said what needed to be said.

The Faces Of

MMFR Mad-Max-Fury-02

 Religion

MMFR People-eater-3

Business

MMFR Bullet_farmer03

Defense

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[1] And I’m focusing very specifically on language use as opposed to the topics purportedly being talked about.

[2] Anybody out there who wants to take that idea and run with it, be my guest.

[3]  Highly recommended, BTW.

[4] The teen (ha! Twenty-somethings!) girls are in the negligees, not the monsters; we had to wait for The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the latter.

[5] Literally? Figuratively?

[6] A lesson audiences seem more than willing to embrace; viz. Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

[7] However, it would make one helluva double-feature with The Hateful Eight.

 

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Compare And Contrast: TARANTULA vs THE SPIDER

7/01/2016

I’ve been asked about a phrase I used in an earlier post re one motion picture being a better film while another was a better movie.

This kind of distinction can be made in any art form, any media, but for English speakers “film” and “movie” describe two ways of enjoying a motion picture.

I could blather on, but rather than discuss the matter in abstract terms, I’ll use two perfect examples to illustrate my point: The giant monster movies Tarantula (Universal 1955) and Earth Vs. The Spider (AIP 1958) a.k.a. The Spider.

CnC TvS a2

They’re similar enough yet different enough to demonstrate my thesis. Both hinge on the same basic plot: Giant arachnid threatens remote community.

But each is significantly different.

Tarantula is a Universal production directed by Jack Arnold, Universal’s go-to guy for 1950s sci-fi. It’s well written, well produced (a B-picture from a major studio), well cast[1], and with good make-up and special effects[2].  The Spider, on the other hand, was a Bert I. Gordon production for AIP. Story is minimal bordering dumb, cast (aside from a pair of stalwart minor supporting characters) is merely adequate, and the effects are not-so-special.

Of course, it’s tons o’fun and far more
entertaining than the Universal film.

Now, it’s fair to point out much of The Spider’s entertainment value comes from its campiness (such as twentysomethings playing high school students), but the truth is it’s a much faster paced and exciting movie.

Tarantula offers some handwaveum explanation for its big arachnid[3], The Spider skips all that: Their audience just shelled out sixty-five cents to see a movie about a giant spider so there’s no need to waste time with explanations where it came from.

For that same reason, there’s no futzing around by the characters, wondering if there’s a giant monster on the loose or not: The teen heroes convince their high school science teacher and the local sheriff with remarkable ease and they all go to confront the beast in her cave with a tanker truck full of DDT.[4]

This refreshing head-on approach is what gives The Spider its goofy charm: Twenty minutes into the film and they’re already at a point it takes Tarantula the better part of an hour to reach.

Once they think they’ve killed the damn thing, they drag it to the local high school gym[5]. Of course the monster revives midway through an impromptu sock hop and goes on a low budget rampage through town.[6]

The quality of The Spider’s effects are pretty minimal — mostly a real spider walking in front of a still photo of the live action location — but there’s a lot more of ‘em and they show her doing a lot more than Tarantula ever did.[7]

The Spider’s rampage is a remarkably effective piece of low budget film making and includes one of the really great iconic moments in 1950s sci-fi: A woman gets her dress caught in her car door as the spider bears down on her and in her very realistic hysterical panic doesn’t think to open the door so she can escape.

Gordon also stretched his budget by showing more of the aftermath of the giant spider’s rampage (i.e., junk and bodies strewn in the streets) before moving on to his climax in which the heroes electrocute the big bug (sic!) in her cave.[8]

Tarantula’s characters (an admittedly higher caliber cast) are adults with boring grown up concerns; they never really connect with the audience. The Spider’s central characters are the teens, and everything in the movie orbits back to their teenage concerns in some fashion. Because of that, they and their problems are much easier to identify with.  Tarantula may do a better job of explaining where its big spider came from, but The Spider sucks us along for the ride.

So, in the end, which is the “better” motion picture?

Oh, c’mon, get serious:
They’re both giant spider movies, and the difference between a really good giant spider movie and a really bad giant spider movie is negligible.

You make movies with your head, and you make movies with your heart, same as any other creative expression. Use both, but if ya gotta go with one over the other, go with your heart.

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[1] Clint Eastwood shows up unannounced at the end as the jet pilot who saves the day.

[2] Arnold and his crew recreated the film’s live action landscapes on a sandbox covered with white cloth then guided a real tarantula’s performance by squirting air at it from a rubber bulb. Not only did their tarantula create its own traveling matte, but it threw a realistic shadow when superimposed on the live action footage. Arnold was ingenious in this manner: To simulate water drops hitting The Incredible Shrinking Man’s match box house, he had technicians drop water filled condoms on the set. When asked by Universal’s accounting department why he had purchased one gross of condoms, Arnold’s straight faced reply was “I throw a hell of a cast party.”

[3] Leo G. Carroll was experimenting with making big critters small and small critters big because, hey, science!

[4] The Spider may be dumb but it sure ain’t stoopid.

[5] Because, hey, science!

[6] Which is a hell of a lot more than Tarantula ever accomplished: A few stray cattle and cow boys, a mid-century modern ranch house, and that’s it. She’s a mile or more out of town when Clint finally fricassees her.

[7] Bert I. Gordon — affectionately known as “Mr. BIG” by B-movie fans — is Arnold’s chief rival among sci-fi directors of the 1950s, at least in terms of the number of films he made. Like Arnold, Gordon was a clever innovator of special effects, and while his films may fail due to lack of time, talent, and taste, there’s nothing in the raw materials that prevented them from rising higher. Indeed, when finally afforded an adequate budget and schedule, Gordon produced the entertaining children’s fantasy The Magic Sword. An extra week spent on any of his other films would have made all the difference.

[8] This is an example of the rule of three in low budget film making: Always try to get a minimum of three key scenes out of each major location; this stretches the budget and shortens shooting time.

 

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I Luvz Me Some HATEFUL EIGHT

30/12/2015

Hateful Eight poster 2

Here’s the conundrum that will prove the make-it-or-break-it for many film goers:
This movie is so far over the fncking top in terms of violence / gore / rape / language / race that many in the audience will throw up their deflector shields and refuse / be unable to see what Quentin Tarantino is doing with the material.

‘Cuz boy howdy, has he got one really major significant-to-our times theme here, and his refusal to pull any punches is 100% germane to getting his point across.

You may not like what you see but
dadgumbit, you gotta see this!!!

Our boy Quentin is tackling the issue of race in America in The Hateful Eight, and he’s doing it in a classic context: The American Western.

Or more specifically: The Episodic American TV Western Bottle Show.[1]

If I wanted to be clever, I could work out an elaborate allegory in which So-and-so represents such-and-such element of modern American society but Tarantino is too good a writer / director / film maker for any simplistic analysis that.

There are no good guy heroes in this movie.

The closest to virtuous characters are a handful of extraneous supporting players who simply aren’t onscreen long enough to show if they have any negative qualities.[2]

Everybody else has character flaws that would
fuel a dozen Shakespearean pastiches.[3]

It’s some time after the Civil War.[4] Ex-Union calvary officer Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson) strikes an uneasy alliance with rival bounty hunter John Ruth (Kurt Russell) to deliver outlaw Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh) to the ex-Confederate sheriff of Red Rock (Walton Goggins) for hanging, only they’re snowed in at a way station with Mexican Bob (Demian Bichir), English hangman Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth), cowboy Joe Gage (Michael Madsen), and ex-Confederate General Sandy Smithers.

Murder / mayhem / horrendous violence ensues.[5]

And while the above mentioned cast constitutes our Hateful Eight, there are also nine more characters (plus three corpses) who round out the story.[6]

Even the best characters have woeful flaws,
and even the worse have some redeeming feature.

And as was true re McClintock!, The Hateful Eight is a contemporary story set in the Old West, and as such it offers a contemporary view on contemporary society filtered through the lens of the past.[7]

Tarantino the writer drops more N-bombs in this movie than any other he’s made, but in the context of the story and characters (at least two ex-Confederates and several overt white racists) they do not seem to be gratuitous.[8]

And, man, does he ever tackle the issue of race head on. Bounty hunter Warren is at best tolerated by Ruth, Mobray, and stagecoach driver O.B. (James Parks), Sherriff Mannix despises him but will obey the law, Gage pretty much ignores him, but Domergue and Smithers shower him with almost non-stop abuse.

Which is fine, because Warren certainly holds them in equal contempt.

But Warren is no turn-the-other-cheek type; as the story unfolds he’s depicted unflinchingly as a non-heroic (as opposed to being an anti-hero) thug different from Domergue and others only because he is clever enough to stay just inside the boundaries of the law.

Mannix comes across as an idiot and a bigot, and while his racial bias never entirely vanishes, he does manage to (painfully; very painfully) acquire some belated smarts by the end of the movie and an appreciation for what others may have gone through.

Ruth is the closest thing to a hero among the Eight, but he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.

And he is brutal — gawd, is he brutal! — to Daisy Domergue.

I honestly don’t know how to react
to her treatment in the film.

On the one hand, the physical abuse ladled on her would be appalling even if applied to a man; on the other, if any character is so irredeemably evil as to deserve such abuse, she’s the one.

Tarantino avoids plot asides that a lesser writer would waste spend time on; instead of teasing out several small plot reveals, he just drops them full out in plain view.[9]

I keep coming back to the race theme, because that’s pretty much what this movie is about. Even the semi-Pollyanna-ish flashback of a seemingly racially enlightened group is marred by the later revealed fact that one of them, despite their jolly good nature, is just as terrible a bigot in their own way as Mannix, Smithers, and Domergue.

And that, in an oddly perverse way, is the common unifying humanizing feature of all the characters, even — or rather, especially! — the very worse.[10]

These are not hagiographic heroes
ala Roy Rogers and Gene Autry or
even John Wayne or Clint Eastwood.

Hell, Eli Wallach as Tuco would be a step above them in terms of basic human decency / compassion / virtue!

But that is Tarantino’s point: Who are we to judge?

Even the best can be pretty despicable, but even at their most detestable worst we can say, “I can understand why you’d think / say / do that” without actually agreeing to their POV.

And the worst of the lot can be seen as genuine psychopaths, greedily sucking up all life around them, spitting (literally!) on everything others hold near and dear.[11]

As Ruth says roughly midway through the movie:
“You only need to hang the mean bastards,
but the mean bastards need to be hanged.”

In the end, the film’s point is that for all the friction generated between / amongst the protagonists, they are ultimately on the same side, fighting for the same cause, and being oh so subtly manipulated by antagonists who hate for no other reason than it feels so damn good.

Highly recommended, but when you go see it, go prepared. The last part is Quentin Tarantino’s most gruesome grand guignol finale ever.

Oh, and by the way,
it’s a Christmas movie.

Hateful Eight animated

[1] Tarantino explains the origins of The Hateful Eight was his fascination in old TV Westerns in which an outlaw would take the cast hostage in one of the established interior locations, and the next 30-60 minutes would be spent engaged in psychodrama until the heroes finally turn the table on the baddie/s. Shows like that are referred to as “bottle shows” in TV parlance because they use mostly series regulars and existing sets instead of spending money on anything new. Producers frequently turn to bottle shows when schedules and budgets grow tight.

[2] And at least one of their number is an out & out bigot.

[3] And forgive me if this veers into spoiler territory, but the only major Hollywood production with a more nihilistic ending involved an army of apes invading a city of mutants in a futile attempt to stop Charlton Heston from blowing up the whole fncking planet.

[4] And the film occupies that weird alternate history / reality of all of Tarantino’s other movies, including Inglorious Basterds. Lincoln may not have been assassinated, John Wilkes Booth may have been chased down by bounty hunters, the South may have unconditionally surrendered yet not gone through Reconstruction, but the Red Apple tobacco brand is available for public consumption.

[5] I’m going to strive to be as spoiler free as possible, so that means pretty much all of act two (i.e., after the intermission in the road show presentation) is off limits. Lemme just say (a) holy crud, nobody dies easy and (b) at least three chimpanzees survived for Escape From The Planet Of The Apes.

[6] And Tarantino hizzownsef as the uncredited narrator of part two.

[7] Does that mean The Hateful Eight may not age gracefully? It’s possible, though I hope that’s not the case and as with McClintock! it will be viewed as both a product and a commentary of its times.

[8] Though if that’s the sort of thing that can annoy you, it will annoy the livin’ fnck out of you during the course of the picture.

[9] Which paradoxically turns out to be the freshest thing he could do with them. We expect a character to hide the fact they’ve been lying about an important letter; we do not expect him to confess to it almost immediately upon being questioned, or for another character to read the letter as true even when they know it to be a fake!

[10] And if you think Daisy Domergue is the worse, you’ve got another think coming.

[11] Even, ironically, when those near and dear things are proven to be false.

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Spoilericious THE FORCE AWAKENS Review / Speculation

21/12/2015

The Force Awakens is the first
cringe-free Star Wars movie
since The Empire Strikes Back.

tfa_poster_wide_header-1536x864-959818851016

SEMI-SPOILER
“The Force awakens” can mean
“the Force itself wakes up” or
“the Force wakes up others.”

SPOILERICIOUS AFTER THE JUMP

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B-Western Round-Up

15/12/2015

Western Classics 50 Films

Like many others in my generation, I grew up watching old B-Westerns on TV.  Hopalong Cassidy was my favorite, narrowly beating out the Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers (though I loved them as well).

When a friend informed me he’d purchased Classic Westerns: 50 Films, I felt I had to give it a try, too.  What follows are the films as I viewed them in the order they play on the DVDs.  Although I’m calling this a B-Western Round-up, there are some Italian Westerns and a few Hollywood A-Westerns than fell into public domain included as well.

The round-up starts after the jump.

(Will I do this next year with other megapacks?  Maybe, I dunno…)

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I Luvz Me Some TANGERINE

10/12/2015

tangerine poster

Tangerine is this year’s I-can’t-believe-that’s-a-Christmas-movie.

A story of two Hollywood street hustlers on Christmas Eve, it has everything you could want in a holiday film: Inventively obscene language, rampant prostitution, startling displays of nudity, and horrifying-yet-hilarious street violence.

And compassion.

And loyalty.

And love.

Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) is barely out of jail when friend & fellow street hustler Alexandra (Mya Taylor) informs her that her fiancé / pimp Chester (James Ransone) has been cheating on her with Dinah (Mickey O’Hagan).

tangerine 0 0Alexandra (Mya Taylor, left) dropping her 
bombshell on Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez).  
All hell breaking loose in 5…4…3…2…1…

This sets off the erratically bi-polar Sin-Dee on a one-transgender woman mission of vengeance to track down Mickey and confront Chester with her. Alexandra tags along, first trying to calm Sin-Dee down, but also trying to promote her own one-person show at a local bar later that night.

Add to this basic Frankie & Johnny mix –

  • (a) Razmik (Karren Karagulian), a roving cabbie who pines for Sin-Dee and hopes to keep his wife from finding out,
  • (b) Ashken (Alla Tumanian), his vengeful mother-in-law who has found out about his dalliances with transgender hustlers, and
  • (c) a third complication which we’ll refrain from mentioning as it’s a spoiler

– and Tangerine rockets off on a howling funny erratic roller coaster ride which, like all good roller coasters, convinces us at times it’s about to fly off the tracks but in reality is always skillfully and deliberately operating exactly as intended.

Big kudos to writer / director / photographer Sean S. Baker, co-writer Chris Bergoch, co-photographer Radium Cheung, their production team, and the remarkable cast, especially Rodriguez and Taylor who brought a lot of their own real life experience and insight to the production. The sassy but savvy minority sexual nonconformist is a well established trope in films and drama now, threatening to become a full fledged stereotype. Rodriguez and Taylor occasionally get close enough to that trope to wave and yell hello from the other side of the street, but they never actually embrace it.

The relationship between Sin-Dee and Alexandra shows how diametrically opposite personalities can find solace and companionship in one another. Alexandra, for all her street cred, at heart harbors a bittersweet yet very conventional ambition, and despite her failure to gain traction towards her ultimate goal she never seems foolish in her pursuit.

She wants a very conventional form of success and acceptance, and one senses she would cheerfully leave the street far behind if she could find even a modicum of success as a performer.

Sin-Dee, on the other hand, is the most outrageous street hustler since Pam Grier’s Charlotte, the gold standard of psychotic street hustlers from 1981’s Fort Apache: The Bronx. If Rodriguez was not able to lace Sin-Dee’s anger and hurt with inventive humor, she would have been as terrifying as Grier was.

But despite her intense emotional pain, Sin-Dee will not abandon a friend, and even though she’s kidnapped Dinah and is en route to confront Chester (via public transit!), she nonetheless finds time to drag her hostage into the bar where Alexandra is singing so as to support her friend’s performance to a room full of barflies.

Tangerine“Hi, I’m kidnapping you to force a
possibly violent confrontation with
my boyfriend, but first let’s stop and
watch my girlfriend’s set at this bar.”
Sin-Dee with Dinah (Mickey O’Hagan.)

Indeed, not only has Sin-Dee compassion for her friend, but she even shows compassion to Dinah, helping her clean up a bit and become more presentable for their inevitable confrontation with Chester.

And in the end, when she is feeling at her worse — abandoned, shamed, betrayed, friendless — she finds Alexandra genuinely cares about her, and is literally willing to give her the shirt off her back (or rather, the wig off her own head) to comfort her.

The film intercuts between that and Razmik sitting in his brightly lit apartment, his life and marriage not exactly destroyed but certainly irreparably damaged, and Dinah facing one of the emotionally coldest and bleakest Christmas Eve’s imaginable, and let’s us know what is truly important in our lives. It strips away all the surface distinctions that we get hung up on and let’s us see people relating to others as people, not objects to be used.

Merry Christmas indeed.

Now, some will wonder why I’m celebrating a grim & gritty / down & dirty film about low lifes instead of more upbeat / happy / zesty holiday fare ala White Christmas.

And I love White Christmas.
It’s a family favorite we
watch every year.

But the big difference between White Christmas (specifically) and other films like it is that they very rarely touch on real life.

White Christmas is a good counterpoint to Tangerine: It also deals with betrayal and trust and compassion, and like Tangerine ends up with an affirmative scene.

But it’s also a fantasy, wholly unrealistic, a lifeless product of the studio system that, while absolutely entertaining on the surface, really doesn’t carry a very deeply resonating meaning.

Yeah, it turns out Rosemary Clooney
could trust Bing Crosby after all,
huzzah huzzah,

But there was nothing real about their on-screen personas, nothing real about the characters they played.

They were perfect happy characters with perfect happy lives that had Some Whacky Complications but in the end everything turned out even more perfectly happier than everything that had happened before.

And that’s fine in a film that is just light entertainment; we certainly don’t need to be stretching our intellectual muscles over a movie designed to shoehorn as many Irving Berlin songs as possible into a single production.

But while the characters’ conflicts symbolized similar problems audiences might face, there is precious little in White Christmas itself that people then or now could recognize in their own lives.

It’s like a Saturday Evening Post illustration come to life: It pretends to depict reality but in actuality it’s a highly stylized interpretation of same.

Tangerine, on the other hand, may exaggerate reality by cramming so many wild incidents into a single night, but it never depicts anything, no matter how outre’, that doesn’t seem to be 100% authentic.

Which is what makes the reconciliation and forgiveness and compassion at the end so refreshing and — heaven help us — heartwarming.

It doesn’t ring of triteness,
but of real, genuine feeling.

A further word on Tangerine, this wholly unrelated to the dramatic aspect of the picture.

tangerine behind the scenes shot

O’Hagan and Rodriguez preparing to shoot
a scene with photographer Radium Cheung and
writer / director / photographer Sean S. Baker (right).  
[photo by Shih-Ching Tsou]

Tangerine was shot entirely on iPhone 5s Smartphones* and that should have traditional production companies and major studios defecating cinderblocks. It gets in and among its characters with astounding ease, and people familiar with the Hollywood / Highland / Santa Monica Blvd area where the film was shot will be amazed at the versatility of the production.

Seriously, you’ve got a film that looks as good as any other low budget feature, and accomplished entirely on a device you are probably already carrying in your pocket. Tangerine had a $100,000 budget, but in a big part that’s because they were filming with permits in Hollywood; I can imagine a production with less scruples and / or shot in a less media savvy area costing but a tiny fraction of that.

What in means in terms of film & media production is that there’s now literally no bar to entry except the imagination and ability of the film maker/s & casts.

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* Wikipedia notes “They used the FiLMIC Pro app, a video app (to control focus, aperture and color temperature, as well as capture video clips at higher bit-rates) and an anamorphic adapter from Moondog Labs (to capture widescreen). They also used Tiffen’s Steadicam Smoothee to capture smooth moving shots.)”

 

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I Luvz Me Some MUSTY SUFFER

10/06/2015

As Walter Kerr pointed out in his great book on The Silent Clowns, we may never know, much less appreciate, the full loss of film culture from the silent and early sound era.

Hampered by both a physical medium that was simultaneously explosive and corrosive, and by an attitude towards the intellectual property as an ephemeral quantity, little effort was made to preserve films from the first half century of movies, and in particular once sound came in, from the silent era.[1]

As a result, we have entire oeuvres of work of performers / directors / writers / studios that are lost forever to the mists of time. People whom we know existed from press clippings and movie magazine articles and the stray lobby card or film still, but of whom we have no examples of their work.[2]

One such oeuvre, thought lost but now happily restored, are the Musty Suffer films of Harry Watson Jr.

Musty-lobby-website

Watson was part of the comedy team of Bickel and Watson, but before he began treading the vaudeville and burlesque boards he was a clown for Ringling Brothers.

Like many early vaudeville comics[3], he became involved in the burgeoning movie industry in the early nineteen-teens.

His first turn as perennial put-upon Musty Suffer was Keep Moving in 1915; by the time the series ended he had done thirty short films as that character and seven non-Musty one-reelers as well as supporting roles in 4 feature films. He alternated between knockabout screen comedies and the Broadway stage, apparently retiring from show biz in 1930 at age 54. He lived another 35 years, dying in Canada in 1965 at age 89.

The Musty Suffer series are referred to as “forgotten but not lost”. As Library Of Congress blogger Mike Mashon reports:

In 1947 the Library of Congress acquired the George Kleine collection of 456 film titles as well as stills and correspondence. Kleine was a pioneer motion picture producer and distributor who’s not well known today but was an important part of the early American film industry. He was the “K” in Kalem [one of the early film distribution companies and] produced and released his own independent productions, a mix of dramas and comedies made primarily in the northeast (his offices were in New York City), and many of which utilized performers from the “legitimate” and vaudeville stages.

The film elements and stills in the Kleine Collection are held at here at the Packard Campus. Some of the motion picture holdings are in 35mm, but most of them are 16mm reduction master positives derived from the original 35mm nitrate elements acquired in 1947….

… film historians Steve Massa and Ben Model, one of our silent film organists at the Packard Campus Theatre, took an interest in a series of oddball comedy shorts produced by Kleine called “The Mishaps of Musty Suffer…”

Ben produces DVDs of rare silent comedies from his own 16mm collection. The Library recently signed an agreement to co-brand a series of DVD releases with him, the first of which is The Mishaps of Musty Suffer, now available…

While the best of the series are available on two delicious DVDs from Model and Massa’s Undercrank Productions, there are also three Musty shorts[4] available for perusal on YouTube:

Musty-Suffer-in-Out-Of-Order-1916-silent-film-score-by-Ben-Model-YouTube-Google-Chrome-592015-80639-PMMusty Suffer 6

The restorations are scrumptious and the look of the films is so modern I thought at first they were an elaborate present day hoax.

Nope, they’re for real — or perhaps I should say, “for surreal”.

Musty-still

Because the great appeal of the Musty Suffer series is the bizarre, virtual live action cartoon sensibility it brings to the screen. The gags are funny, fast paced, well timed, inventive, and flawlessly executed. Produced by George Kleine and directed by Louis Myll, the films have a very contemporary look to them compared to other films made between 1915 and 1917.

There are subtle camera moves to emphasize gags, dynamic angular staging as opposed to the usual “proscenium arch” head on / right angle approach, an astonishingly sophisticated bag of optical tricks for the era, and far more use of close ups than was common at the time.

The reason for the latter can be attributed to Watson’s astonishing capacity for gurning (i.e., the art of mugging by distorting one’s face to comical extremes).

To make sure audiences got their money’s worth, the producers of the Musty Suffer series made sure Harry Watson’s rubbery face was seen closely as he milked his reaction to each gag.

musty maxresdefault

And in a way, that may have ended up
working against the series’ long term success.

Other silent comedians — notably Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd, and Buster Keaton (a.k.a. The Great Stone Face) — famously underplayed their reactions, inviting the audience to project more of their own emotions onto their characters and, as a result, enticing them to invest more closely in their on screen personas.

Watson’s reaction shots as Musty are
worthy of a Tex Avery or John Krisfaluci cartoon:
They are about as subtle as a hand grenade in a cloister.

Musty Suffer Harry_Watson,_Jr

And while they’re fun and get a good laugh from the audience, they also put some distance between the viewer and the character.[6]

Luckily, Watson remains engaging enough as a performer to overcome this, and his extreme reactions are in perfect balance with the extreme situations Musty Suffer finds himself in.

Musty Suffer 15

There were three series of Musty Suffer short subjects, each featuring ten one-reel episodes. While they didn’t rely on cliff hangers, they could be regarded as a serial insofar as one episode would frequently pick up where the previous one had left off.

According to film historian Anthony Balducci:

Responding to a special invitation from the Kleine company, exhibitors and reviewers arrived at Broadway’s Candler Theatre on November 14, 1915 for a trade showing of a five-reel comedy called Keep Moving… Those who attended the event became the first members of the public to be introduced to a foolish tramp named Musty Suffer. It must be clarified, though, that the tramp doesn’t begin Keep Moving as a tramp and he isn’t even called Musty Suffer at first. He is a prince in the wacky land of Blunderland (we know the place is wacky because the king and queen travel around the throne room on roller skates). The prince has a fateful encounter with a fairy tramp… The fairy agrees to transform the prince into a humble tramp so that he will be free to explore the wide world. It is now that he adopts the name Musty Suffer and he finds that, as his new name suggests, he must perpetually suffer while learning the harsh ways of the world.

The Mishaps Of Musty Suffer and The Mishaps Of Musty Suffer 2 are available thru Amazon.

…and a tip of the hat to
Jessica Amanda Salmonson
for hipping me to this fabulous series.

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[1] Kerr observes that ironically the older silent era films are more likely to be preserved than the latter ones, as some studios tended to feel they should make some effort to preserve the earliest examples of the medium.

[2] And because of the incessant ballyhoo nature of movie press releases in those days, no objective way of judging the quality or import of one artist against another. To paraphrase The Incredibles, if everybody is the greatest star in the celluloid firmament, then nobody is the greatest star in the celluloid firmament.

[3] i.e., lacking all shame and pride.

[4] Yikes! There are two words that should not go together!

[5] A hobo clown wearing a tutu. Ya gotta see it to believe it.

musty and tramp fairy 1431638335_1

[6] A similar criticism has been leveled against Jerry Lewis’ style of comedy.

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I Luvz Me Some RADIO FREE ALBEMUTH

5/12/2014

PKDRadio_free_albemuth

It’s widely accepted that (a) Philip K. Dick was the greatest novelist to work in the science fiction genre[1] (b) wrote five of the best sci-fi novels ever but (c) nobody can agree which five of his 40+ books those are and (d) was a bugfuck crazy paranoiac and (e) a doper and (f) experienced profound religious visions of a degree that would leave Billy Graham weeping with envy.

Are ya with me so far?

None of which is to say any of that is true or for that matter than any of it is false — or rather, any of that is factual or any of that is fantasy — because the mind and/or universe that PKD inhabited does not seem constrained by simply binary yes/no true/false constructs.

It’s entirely possible they’re all true or none of them are true or they are true and un-true simultaneously or even that they are all true and un-true simultaneously but in a manner we can not comprehend.

Still with me?

PKD may have been crazy but he sure wasn’t stupid and he realized telling too many people outside the circle of sci-fi fandom that he was experiencing intense religious revelations from an entity he sometimes referred to as God but more often as VALIS (Vast Active Living Intelligence System) was a surefire way to get himself even more good & ignored that he already was in his lowly status as sci-fi writer to he turned his experiences into an autobiographical sci-fi trilogy in which he was no the recipient of these visions but rather just a supporting character in another protagonist’s story.

Are ya still with me?

Dick’s work always touches in some form or another on the quest for ultimate Truth, to know what really is is, to tear away the veils & masks around us and truly know our place in the universe.

It is, by its very nature, a religious quest as well as a psychological and philosophical one.  Dick and his characters are seeking operating instructions from on high, something that will give them sense in what appears to be a senseless universe, something that makes the pain and suffering of everyday existence meaningful and worthwhile.

Radio Free Albemuth is a tangential part of Dick’s unfinished VALIS trilogy (the trilogy consisting of VALIS, The Divine Invasion, and the unfinished book The Owl In Daylight).  Essentially a first draft of VALIS, it also differs considerably from the latter book although remaining a fragmentary part of that “universe”.

You see what I’m getting at re not being able to easily categorize PDK’s work?

The variant of Radio Free Albemuth / VALIS that I’d like to draw your attention to, however, is the long-in-production / finally-released feature film, Radio Free Albemuth, currently available on Netflix.

PKDRadio_Free_Albemuth_FilmPoster

Radio Free Albemuth is everything I look for, everything I hope for in not just a sci-fi film but any sort of movie.  It’s actually about something as opposed to senseless / pointless chasing / fighting over a macguffin.

Radio Free Albemuth follows music mogul Nick Brady (Jonathan Scarfe) as he becomes aware of VALIS attempt to communicate with him through an alien[2] satellite orbiting Earth.[3]

PKDphpThumb_generated_thumbnail

The problem — or perhaps it would be better to say the reason – is that Radio Free Albemuth doesn’t take place in this reality but in an alternate one, where President Ferris F. Fremont[4] rules the US of A with an iron fist, sweeping aside Constitutional limitations and fighting a never ending war against a terrorist organization known as Cobra Aramchek, which apparently exists only in his mind.

Fremont and his Gestapo-like thugs, the Friends of the American People (derisively referred to as FAP in a delicious piece of unintentional irony), fear the message coming from VALIS via the satellite, a message that basically pulls back the curtain and reveals that Fremont’s power and authority comes from a false fear, that all people are capable of living in peace with one another, and that wars and hatred are foisted on us by those seeking power for their own ends.

PKDphpThumb_generated_thumbnail2

Brady and his muse / co-conspirator Sylvia (Alanis Morissette) are tracked down and killed by FAP, and Brady’s friend Philip K. Dick (Shea Whigham) is imprisoned as an enemy of the people.  In prison he learns from a fellow inmate, a former pastor now held for subversive ideas, that the ideas Brady and Sylvia received and tried to spread were identical with those of Jesus and the early Christian church, and that while VALIS and the Truth may have suffered a set back, other followers have gotten the message out and the seeds of a rebellion against the authoritarians is starting to grow.

If this sounds like a too-spot-on transliteration of contemporary US politics, guess again; Radio Free Albemuth was written in 1976 and only published posthumously in 1985.  Dick was long gone from the scene before the country was stampeded off in a panic for a war on terror.

The film is well made; inexpensive, but wisely focusing its attention less on spectacle and more on the attempts of human beings to come to terms with an idea that will transform their world…if they can live long enough to implement it.  It’s well cast, and while production and post-production were strung out for nearly a decade, it looks and feels the right scale for the story.

Highly recommended,
no matter what your
level of reality.

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[1]  Acknowledging that greatest novelist doesn’t mean wrote the best science fiction novel or best writer of science fiction or even best writer of science fiction novels but rather was the best master at the specific art & craft of writing 50-80,000 word stories that we refer to as novel-length format.  Because there’s a lot of truly exception writers vying in this field and although PKD was among the very best, we can’t put him at the absolute pinnacle, so instead we give him a slot near the apex and a qualifier that honors his skill & talent without painting us into a corner quality wise.  ‘Cuz Bradbury and Ellison are duking it out on the short story side and Bester has a lock on the best sci-fi novel ever although his output pales in comparison with Dick’s.

[2]  Implied angelic beings tho never clearly identified as such in the film.

[3]  Dick, in the novel, shifted much of his own experiences away from his character and onto Brady.

[4]  “Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast.” — Revelation 13:18 (MEV)

 

 

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I Luvz Me Some BIG PICTURE APPLES TO APPLES

12/11/2014

There are a lot of games out there that tout themselves as “fun for the whole family” or “for ages seven to seventy” but holy shamolley, Big Picture Apples To Apples actually delivers!

Big Picture Apples To Apples

Based on the popular 12+ version, Big Picture Apples To Apples is a great way to stretch your imagination and improve your vocabulary while having tons o’fun.

Basic game play is this:

A judge deals out five red apple picture cards each to the players (stock photos of people & places, animals & activities) then turns up a green apple word card; the word is defined with three synonyms for younger players or those for whom English is a second language.

Players then select a red apple picture card from their hand that they feel best depicts the word on the green apple word card.  The judge decides which is best and hands that player a token.  The played cards go into their respective discard piles (picture or word), a new word card is dealt, and the next hand is played.

Play continues until one player has accumulated 5 tokens.  If no one accumulates 5 tokens in five hands, the judge deals out five more picture cards to each player (or, alternately, refreshes each player’s hand with a new picture card every turn) and play continues until someone wins.

The great thing about the game is it’s a fast play (30 minutes for a game with 4 – 6 players) that allows even the youngest players to compete on an equal basis with older ones by combining random distribution with visual playing pieces.

And while one can argue that it requires subjective judgment, in truth there’s usually an obvious best choice winner for every hand.

But wait!  There’s more!

Creative minds can hack this game like nobody’s business, playing variants of Five Card Nancy or Creation Myth* with the stock photos.  One can play a game where each player creates their own five card narrative or one where a group narrative is created by alternating images with story points.

If playing with an even number of players, deal each player five picture cards, then turn a card face up.  The first player adds a story point then plays one of their picture cards; the opposing player responds in kind.  Game continues until one player uses all five cards; if stuck, they draw from the picture card deck.

If playing with an odd number, Player One lays down a card, Player Two provides a story point, Player Three then lays down a card, Player One then provides a story point, Player Two then lays down a card, etc., etc., and of course, etc.

Game play continues until you run out of cards or the story reaches a satisfactory conclusion.  Game story can be free form or assigned a specific genre.

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*  Creation Myth was described many years ago in the Whole Earth Review.  Using images culled from magazines and glued to index cards, the deck is shuffled and five cards are dealt out to each player who must then construct a creation myth based on all five cards arranged in however sequence they desire; the players then vote on who came up with the best myth.  Once again, it sounds (and technically is) very subjective but in actual play the winner is typically obvious to everyone.

 

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I Luvz Me Some Heinrich Kley

27/10/2014

Heinrich Kley (1863 – 1945 or 1952; your guess is as good as anybody’s) was a German artist / cartoonist for such avant-garde magazines as Jugend and Simplicissimus.  Now virtually forgotten by the public, he’s best remembered for being ripped off by the inspiration for Disney’s “Dance Of The Hours” in Fantastia.

Heinrich Kley - steal a little

Heinrich Kley - elehants drinking

Heinrich Kley - hero

Heinrich Kley - hey ho lets go

Heinrich Kley - parlor game

Heinrich Kley - elephants bathing

Heinrich Kley - bacchus

Heinrich Kley - fighting for bread

Heinrich Kley - elephant plays piccolo

Heinrich Kley - red cross

Heinrich Kley - elephants on a train

Heinrich Kley - they party while below

Heinrich Kley - monkey on her back

Heinrich Kley - disarming justice

Heinrich Kley - dancing elephants 3

Heinrich Kley - crucifixion picnic

Heinrich Kley - dancing elephants 1

Heinrich Kley - harpies

Heinrich Kley - dancing elephants 2

Heinrich Kley - guillotine

political agenda?
I have no idea what
you’re talking about…

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