Film

THE MISFITS (1962)

April 18, 2021

(hoopla/Pluto/VOD) A few things to know about this film:

  • It was Arthur Miller’s first credited screenplay. He claims he wrote it for Marilyn Monroe, his wife at the time, to star in. She hated her character in the film, and the two of them divorced before the film was finished.
  • It was Marilyn Monroe’s final completed feature before she died.
  • Clark Gable cursed Marilyn for often showing up late (if at all) and, due to time constraints, opted to do many of his own stunts.
  • It was Clark Gable’s final film. He died of a heart attack shortly after filming.

I could summarize it as a film where Clark Gable, Eli Wallach, and a post-car crash Montgomery Ward are all infatuated with a mercurial Marilyn Monroe, and they all head out to a wilderness spot to break a bunch of horses, or you could just watch the ‘paddle ball’ scene:

Or the ‘horse breaking’ scene:

(Or, of course, the trailer below.)

THE MISFITS an oil-and-water mixture of a film featuring actors and a filmmaker (the legendary John Huston) and a writer of wildly differing generations and dispositions grating against each other. While you can feel the tension, the frustration simmering between everyone involved, Miller’s screenplay inadvertently works with it, even fueling the over-stressed feeling of the film.

Miller is clearly working out a lot of personal issues out loud and, by doing so, it becomes a complex tale about men and adapting to change, but Monroe was right to be mad: her character is just a shape in a dress who can’t stand to see hurt in the world. He meant to pen a film for his wife, but only cared to flesh out the men that surrounded her. Good on her to dump the motherfucker.

THE MISFITS’ surprisingly avant-garde trailer:

Lastly, the title sequence is quite remarkable, and it was created by George Nelson and Co. Yes, the industrial designer. You can find more info here.

OSCAR AND LUCINDA (1997)

April 17, 2021

(VOD) My wife recently sent me a link to a gothic test tube greenhouse that immediately prompted a flashback to the glass cathedral featured in Gillian Armstrong’s adaptation of OSCAR AND LUCINDA.

Apart from SID AND NANCY, I recall OSCAR AND LUCINDA as one of the first films I saw where I recognized: ‘Oh, this is a romantic drama about two people that feed their worst impulses and would’ve been better off never meeting each other.’

If you aren’t familiar with the film, it’s the story of Oscar and Lucinda, two gambling addicts in the mid-1800s who find each other and immediately orbit one another. Oscar (Ralph Fiennes) is a priest very adept at gambling but, to ease his guilt, he gives all his winnings — apart from what he needs to live — away. Lucinda (Cate Blanchett) is a forthright woman and adept gambler who has vast resources thanks to inheriting her parents’ glass factory. Oscar is discovered as a gambler while betting on cards with Lucinda and is consequentially ostracized. Lucinda wants to help get him back on his feet by building a giant glass cathedral, which Oscar will then oversee by taking his religion to Africa. (One can’t help but compare this venture to Herzog’s FITZCARRALDO.)

The film has a persistent voice-over (via Geoffrey Rush) that, unlike most voice-overs, has a welcome purpose. Regarding Lucinda, the unseen person states:

“Lucinda’s mother knew she had produced a proud square peg, in the full knowledge that, from coast-to-coast, there were nothing but round holes.” The film doubles back to this description by having Oscar later confess to Lucinda: “I do not fit, I know that.”

The film is chock full of similar callbacks and repeated, often unsubtle, visual symbolism that wouldn’t work if not for the combination of Fiennes and Blanchett’s costume design, brilliant camera and production work — every scene on a boat manages to exceptionally convey both the thrill and anxiety of traveling by water — and Armstrong’s command of tone.

I’ll note that, upon rewatching the film, there’s rape scene that I certainly did not remember. It’s not there to be shocking or exploitative, as it’s in the film for a reason, but I was shocked that I had forgotten about it.

THE THIRD MAN (1949)

April 16, 2021

(Criterion/IndieFlix/VOD) Yes, another film with Orson Welles, albeit directed by Carol Reed (who had previously directed the stellar noir ODD MAN OUT). It’s not just one of my favorite noirs but one of my favorite films period. For example, I snuck in excerpts from the soundtrack it into my wedding playlist. (I’ll note it was the dining playlist, not the dance playlist.)

While I love everything about it — the zither-centric soundtrack, the clever use of post-wartime occupied space, the amazing chiaroscuro work and canted angles supplied by Reed’s go-to cinematographer Robert Krasker, Holly Martins’ (Joseph Cotton) writerly self-deprecation, and obviously Welles as Harry Lime and the marvelous scene construction of the cuckoo clock scene — I came to it far later in life than I should have. While other films have liberally borrowed from it — notably BRAZIL with its zither use and own Harry Lime — and while it’s widely considered one of the greatest British films ever made, I have the impression that it’s a film that is rarely watched by anyone apart from cinephiles and noir nerds like myself. It’s not a film you hear friends say ‘Oh, I saw that with my mom (or dad)! They absolutely loved that film. Let’s watch it again!’ Casual filmgoers don’t seem to speak of it with the reverence they would of, say, CHINATOWN.

Perhaps it’s because Cotton lacks the enigmatic charisma of Bogart, even though I can’t see Bogart as Holly Martins. Perhaps most people hate zither music. Perhaps I’m wrong, and youths organize weekly watch parties for it. Regardless, it is rich and substantial, and a film that folks should see far earlier in life. It captures a very specific time in a way that few movies do, and the fact that it has a complicated male relationship, an exceptional villain, and a thrillingly extraordinary chase scene, should be more than enough to merit anyone’s attention.

Or, perhaps I’m entirely wrong about all of the above and maybe it has aged terribly, now considered to be completely overrated. Watch and see for yourself. All I know is that I’ll never stop loving it.

AD ASTRA (2019)

April 15, 2021

(VOD) AD ASTRA is another dude with daddy issues film from James Gray (LOST CITY OF Z) that tries to be a lot of things: action-packed space-faring spectacle, colonialism, existential horror, and a meditation on journeymen, to name a few, and while it doesn’t quite succeed at any of them, it’s certainly the sort of big swing I appreciate.

However, I’m mentioning AD ASTRA to reflect on my initial viewing experience. You may have heard that all Pacific and ArcLight theaters are going to be shuttered permanently, including the previously mentioned Cinerama Dome in L.A. as well as the Chicago ArcLight location.

If a film wasn’t playing at one of the indie theaters in Chicago — such as the Davis Theater, The New 400, The Music Box, or the Siskel Film Center — I’d normally head north to Evanston’s Century 12 (which has also permanently closed, but will almost certainly re-open as a new theater) or head south to the ArcLight. In the case of AD ASTRA, I ventured to the ArcLight for a weekday double-feature of Sad Son in Space and the Chicago premiere of PARASITE.

When I walked into the ArcLight that afternoon, there wasn’t a single employee in sight. No one helming the bar, no one doling out popcorn, no one taking tickets. It was eerily silent, especially as I meandered down the halls to locate the screen, which felt like a perfect prelude to a film in which Brad Pitt spends a fair amount of time alone.

It’s worth noting that the evening screening of PARASITE was a sold-out delight. Seeing that film for the first time with an energetic crowd prone to gasping and belly-laughing was incredible. We figured we were in for something special, but we were not fully prepared for it.

There’s one more screening I’d like to mention, which could have happened in any other theater, but happened to occur at the ArcLight: I was attending a late-night screening of BLACK CHRISTMAS (2019), populated by a handful of bored teens and two older goths. I kept hearing a chain rattling, and I couldn’t quite figure out whether it was a diegetic sound or what, but it kept occurring throughout the film. Turns out, it was the leash and collar of a very large, very well-behaved dog keeping the goths company. Simply put, that’s not a sound you expect to hear in a theater!

I don’t want to oversell the Chicago ArcLight. It’s hardly the Austin Alamo Drafthouse (RIP, even though the Alamo Drafthouse certainly has issues), but it was a fine theater that was nicely kept, comfortable, and you could grab some above-average food and a local draft beer before your film, and I will miss it.

NETWORK (1976)

April 14, 2021

(VOD) This fucking script. Paddy Chayefsky was in his fifties when he wrote this — he died six years later. You could rewrite this script word-for-word today and it’d still work.

Unfortunately, it’s hampered by a terrible sexual subplot which basically inserts Chayefsky as Dunaway’s lover, and has him repeating why she’s doomed to fail, so uh, ignore all of that, please?

“Television will never be the same.”

I’LL CRY TOMORROW (1955)

April 13, 2021

(VOD) Admittedly, I’LL CRY TOMORROW is not a great film; it’s high camp masquerading as a cautionary tale about addiction with the sizzle of a true life autobiography. Lead actor Susan Hayward chews up the scenery with her drinking and her D.T.s, and the film vastly overstays its welcome. (It’s worth noting that Hayward would be knowingly cast in another camp/addiction adaptation: THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS.) However, I’LL CRY TOMORROW does pre-date the fictitious but similarly overwrought DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES, and it’s a damn good looking film; its Oscar nomination for cinematography was well-deserved. Additionally, it certainly helped to educate folks about Alcoholics Anonymous so it’s not totally without merit.

None of that’s why I’m mentioning I’LL CRY TOMORROW, though. MY LIFE WITH THE THRILL KILL KULT are an electro-industrial band that specialize in sampling camp films and performances, one I grew up listening to and, while there are sample databases out there, I always glean so much more pleasure from accidentally stumbling over a sample source rather than actively seeking them out. That’s exactly what occurred while lounging on the couch, half-listening to TCM play I’LL CRY TOMORROW a few days ago.

The moment I heard and recognized someone say “Honey, sing us a song,” I knew it’d be a rich vein for MY LIFE WITH THE THRILL KILL KULT to mine, and they drilled deep for -The Devil Does Drugs- and the reworked version -…And This Is What The Devil Does-, as well as -A Girl Doesn’t Get Killed by a Make-Believe Killer… ‘Cuz It’s Hot- and -Kooler Than Jesus-. There’s one scene about two-thirds through the film between Lillian Roth (Susan Hayward) and her mother (Jo Van Fleet) that they practically sampled in its entirety, including the following bits of dialogue:

“Oh, look what you did! And you did it on purpose!”

“You’re still trying to make me do what you want, to be what you want! I can’t be anything except what I am!”

“What are you trying to do, drive me crazy?!”

“GET IT NOW!”

“All right. All right! EVERYTHING!”

“Look at me. I said look at me! Don’t turn your face away! I’m the looking glass you created to see yourself in.”

They sampled those lines over thirty years ago, and now one more sample source mystery from my youth has been solved.

-…And This Is What The Devil Does- video:

-Kooler Than Jesus- video:

-A Girl Doesn’t Get Killed by a Make-Believe Killer… ‘Cuz It’s Hot-:

-The Devil Does Drugs-:

I’LL CRY TOMORROW trailer:

KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE (2016)

April 12, 2021

(hoopla/kanopy/VOD) Coincidentally, this was released in the same year as CHRISTINE, but by the radical documentarian Robert Greene, again about Christine Chubbuck.

While I dodged Christine’s life events in yesterday’s recommendation of CHRISTINE, I can’t do so here because it’s the crux of this documentary. So, if you’d planned on watching CHRISTINE, go ahead and do so before reading further.

I’ll wait.

Still waiting.

Pad, pad, padding the post.

Okay, ready?

While giving a news report on the local news network she worked for, Christine diverged from the report and said: “In keeping with Channel 40’s policy of bringing you the latest in ‘blood and guts’ and in living color, you are going to see another first—an on-the-air suicide.” She then shot herself in the head, and died shortly after.

While CHRISTINE is a fictionalized exploration of Chubbuck’s psyche, KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE sees Kate Lyn Sheil (previously mentioned: the STRANGE WEATHER music video, also of YOU’RE NEXT and SHE DIES TOMORROW, as well as previously recommended director Sophia Takal’s debut GREEN) doing research for the role of playing Christine Chubbuck.

If you aren’t familiar withe Robert Greene’s work, he plays with the nature of recreation in documentaries. His follow-up, BISBEE ’17, explicitly explores that as he enlists an entire town to recreate what becomes a xenophobic, union-busting exiling of denizens. As a fan of documentaries, I believe this sort of meta-exploration of the inherent exploitation of documentaries is important, but also potentially fraught with their own sort of problems.

That’s why, with KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE, Greene’s smartly — and just as potentially problematically — documentary puts it entirely on Shell’s shoulders, and — if what we’re shown is to be believed — really puts her through the wringer. Shell is recreating Christine, physically and mentally, and it takes its toll.

It’s worth nothing that KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE is partially constructed around the urban legend that Paddy Chayefsky’s NETWORK was inspired by Christine’s on-air suicide, which is complete and utter bullshit — Chayefsky had been workshopping NETWORK well before her suicide — but something Greene defends as “being not quite true seems completely appropriate.”

It’s also worth noting that the dramatic re-enactments are terribly scripted, feel stilted and, apart from a few scenes, probably should’ve been excised completely, even if they were intentionally mawkish. That seemingly undercuts all of the work that everyone — especially Sheil — has done, but I get the feeling Greene doesn’t care.

Before writing these two recommendations, I’d felt that KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE was the ‘better’ film versus CHRISTINE; it conceptually tackles more; it’s more artfully, abstractly constructed; the intent is to take a magnifying lens to why we want to examine this story. Today, I’m not so sure.

At the end of the day, it’s still just a bunch of dudes reappropriating Christine’s story for their own reasons, for reasons she Christine herself probably wouldn’t agree with, which seems like the biggest sin here. Fundamentally, this is a story about a woman trying to live the life she’d set out for herself. The fact that she lived in a masculine world of journalism, or that she killed herself in what would be considered a masculine way, shouldn’t require a masculine retelling, but instead we received two re-appropriations of the tale.

“You have to tell me why you want to see it. … Are you happy now?”

THE MUSIC MAN (1962)

April 9, 2021

(VOD) Lest my prior JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR recommendation confuse matters, I was a reluctant musical fan. It wasn’t until I saw the film adaptation of THE MUSIC MAN that musicals really struck me, partially because I suddenly realized: ‘Oh, that’s what Conan O’Brien was riffing on in the monorail episode of THE SIMPSONS! You mean I can have both thieving, scheming hucksters and quippy, clever songs?!’

If you aren’t familiar with THE MUSIC MAN, I’ll briefly summarize: Harold Hill (Robert Preston) is a con-artist who frequents towns to sell musical instruments and lessons to all of the children, then plans to leave said town after receiving the cash but before the town realizes they have instruments but no instructor. However, this time he falls in love with Marian (Shirley Jones), the local librarian, as well as the town.

In case you doubt my love for the source material, my wife bought tickets to see a live production of it at the Goodman Theater for my birthday two years ago. We even trekked to downtown Chicago to join in a 76 Trombone march as part of the premiere festivities. (I still have my hand flag!) We had plans to see the perfectly cast Broadway revival with Hugh Jackman as Harold Hill and Sutton Foster as Marian last year, but …COVID. Fingers crossed for, uh, 2022?

I’ve watched Morton DaCosta’s adaptation of THE MUSIC MAN too many time to count. Whenever I see it in passing on Turner Classic Movies, I always take a moment to enjoy it. Sometimes two or even three moments.

I’ll freely admit this is a film that coasts by on its songs, Meredith Willson’s love of language, Robert Preston’s charm, and a cast chock-full of amazing character actors (including Buddy Hackett!). While DaCosta’s film adaptation of his production of AUNTIE MAME hits the spot, I can’t quite say the same for THE MUSIC MAN, even though I love it so. It feels rather slapdash at times and, while that may be due to the film needing a bit of a restorative love, I tend to doubt it as the props often look hastily cobbled together, plus the poor sound mixing, lazy framing and staging, and dull colors. That said, it succeeds as an enthralling musical adaptation despite all of those marks against it.

On the other hand, there’s a 2003 TV adaptation of THE MUSIC MAN which was part of THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY and, while it has a similarly stellar (but woefully miscast) Broadway line-up including Matthew Broderick as Harold Hil, Kristen Chenoweth as Marian the Librarian, and Victor Garber as The Mayor, it’s sadly over-produced. While it looks more expensive than DaCosta’s adaptation, it’s poorly paced due to over-zealous editing and over-cramped camerawork (which feels like it might be the result of cropping it down to a 1.33 aspect for TV, but I could be wrong), resulting in the best numbers limping along without any charisma — partially because Broderick’s performance is too slight and tempered for Harold Hill, and THE MUSIC MAN without charisma is an empty rig.

In short, I’ll take a hastily assembled adaptation with the proper talent over an expensive, well-meaning but poorly cast adaptation any day of the week.

THE MUSIC MAN (1962) trailer:

Rock Island Opening (1962), just for fun:

Rock Island Opening (2003), just to be cruel:

THE SIMPSONS: Monorail (A far shorter song than I recall):

Ya Got Trouble (1962):

THE MUSIC MAN (2003):

THE LAST LAUGH/DER LETZTE MANN (1924)

April 8, 2021

(kanopy/VOD/YouTube) Sure, F.W. Murnau directed NOSFERATU, FAUST, as well as one of the greatest melodramas ever with SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS, but my favorite film of his is THE LAST LAUGH.

THE LAST LAUGH is an extraordinarily depressing story of a hotel porter’s fall from grace starring Emil Jannings, an actor exceptional at portraying broken characters. While the tale is simple, it’s not simply told, as Murnau puts forward all of his talents with his ‘untethered camera’ as possible. Briefly put: the aging hotel porter (Emil Jannings) loves his job, loves the limelight of the front door and accommodating the hotel’s guests. However, his boss deems him too old and re-assigns him to be a washroom attendent. Despite the very slight story, it’s an expressionistic marvel, pure cinema, with Murnau’s camera visually and emotionally gesticulating all over the place, eschewing title cards except for one which is displayed upon Jannings falling asleep in his newly anointed washroom attendent’s chair. (Yes, yes, one might construe the following as a spoiler):

“Here our story should really end, for in actual life the forlorn old man would have little to look forward to but death. The author took pity on him, however, and provided quite an improbable epilogue.”

The last fifteen minutes of the film consists of an orgy of food, montage, and lower-class well-wishing. Talk about having your cake and eating it too.

A clip:

The full film via YouTube (it’s in public domain, but there are restored editions out there that are worth your hard-earned cash):

THE DIVORCEE (1930)

April 7, 2021

(VOD) When most folks hear Norma Shearer these days, they probably think of THE WOMEN (if they recollect her at all), but while she was a star well before THE DIVORCEE, it’s THE DIVORCEE that turned her from a conventional leading lady into an unconventional one, one proudly willing to tackle sensitive material. (It helps that she won an Oscar for her role.)

THE DIVORCEE is based on a Ursula Parrott’s novel EX-WIFE — it shouldn’t be confused with the lost 1919 silent film THE DIVORCEE, which was based on the 1903 play LADY FREDERICK — and centers around a love triangle between Jerry (Norma Shearer), Ted (Chester Morris), and Paul (Conrad Nagel). Paul loves Jerry, but Jerry marries Ted. Paul gets drunk and, while driving a party of their friends home, gets into an accident, viciously scarring friend Dorothy’s (Helen Johnson) face. Paul feels terrible guilt and marries Dorothy. Ted cheats on Jerry, so Jerry returns the favor by sleeping with Ted’s best friend Don, and informs Ted that they’re even now. Ted becomes outraged and divorces her.

Jerry moves on, living her best life by traveling and partying, while Ted becomes an alcoholic, and Paul re-enters her orbit, still married to Dorothy. Lessons are then learned by all, roll credits.

If it sounds like I’m dismissive about the end of the film, it’s because it’s meant to be dismissed. THE DIVORCEE is a pre-code film, which means that it didn’t have to adhere to the increasingly strict Hays Code of on-screen moral representation that penalized, well, practically every Hollywood production from the mid-1930s into the 1960s. While it’s possible THE DIVORCEE could have been made under early Hays Code regulations, it certainly wouldn’t be so frank about infidelity. That said, the closing is laughably moralistic, and undoes all of the fine progressive groundwork of the prior 80 minutes, but I find it hard to believe audiences of the time would have been fooled by it.

While the film has some clunky visual exposition — specifically the opening shot that looks like they opted to film a high school theater rendition of the novel — a fair amount of Robert Z. Leonard’s work is stellar, especially whenever Jerry and Ted are in a tight two-shot. (The moment when she plots her next step after confronting him about his infidelity, the smoke in the party room rolling behind her head simulating angry steam, is pitch-perfect.)

Not a trailer, but an excerpt: