Oftentimes I'm asked which actors and actresses I enjoy watching in movies. When I answer, most people have no idea about whom I'm speaking because I tend to shy away from the usual suspects and my choices such as Roman Duris, Louis Garrel, Vincent Cassel, Monica Belluci, Romola Garai, etc. usually draw blank stares. Among American performers who fall into this category is Gabriel Macht. I first became aware of him after his guest appearance on "Sex and the City" but I really became a fan of his in earnest in 2001 after seeing him in both American Outlaws and Behind Enemy Lines. Over the next several years, I watched him in supporting roles in great movies (The Good Shepherd), good movies (A Love Song for Bobby Long) and middling ones (The Recruit). He was the best thing in the romantic comedy Because I Said So (which depending on one's point of view is either a good thing or not). So when I read that he finally had landed a leading role in a movie I was excited. Then The Spirit opened, got terrible reviews, and bombed big time at the box office. Still, it was directed by Frank Miller and I had admired his contributions to Sin City, so I kept thinking "how bad could this movie be?" Besides, a lot of the time, I find myself enamored of a movie that other critics have disliked.
So I rented the DVD of The Spirit, popped it in and ... As the film opened, I was admiring of the decor and the look of the movie. But then, well, it became clear that Frank Miller without Robert Rodriguez was like oil without vinegar in a salad dressing.
In the comics created by Will Eisner, the character of Denny Colt becomes the Spirit after being shot and left in a kind of limbo -- not really dead, but not really alive either. The original ran for a dozen years between 1940 and 1952 but in 2007, DC Comics resurrected the character and someone must have hit on the idea that making a movie would be a good thing. Trouble is that Miller's screenplay doesn't exactly contemporize the character or his story. Instead, Miller treats the material like a 1940s melodrama cum film noir. As a director, he's clearly lacking the skill set to deal with actors, while as a visual artist, he crafts some attractive-looking sequences.
The performers are all at sea, performing as if different films. Macht, who can be charming and heroic, comes across as merely dull. Samuel L. Jackson overplays and hams it up as the villain known as the Octopuss -- and his campy performance makes some of the TV actors from the old "Batman" show look as if they were doing Shakespeare. The femme fatales, including Eva Mendes, Scarlett Johansson, and Jamie King, are all defeated by the material.
I went into watching this movie with the expectations that I would find something in it that I could appreciate, but I was wrong. The movie isn't the worst I've ever seen, but it is pretty close.
Rating: D-
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
December 7: Musical Monday
Back in June, I was in Manhattan, just after the Tony Awards, and managed to score a great seat to the award-winning revival of Hair. The show, which is admittedly more of a revue than an actual book musical, was performed by a cast with zeal and an infectious spirit that I don't think anyone left the theater except in a jolly good mood. I had seen the 1979 Milos Forman-directed film when it first was released (and rather enjoyed it then), but a later viewing left me cold. Maybe I was just in a mood that day or something because I happened to catch the film again on the MGMHD channel (had no idea this even existed -- when I upgraded, it was among the listings) the other night and was captivated by it.
Screenwriter Michael Weller takes a lot of liberties with the rather skimpy original plot but much of what he concocted makes sense. He also includes homages to the stage show, including the infamous nude scene that closes the first act (now a skinny dip in a pond in Central Park) and an acid trip that on stage sometimes seems twee and perhaps even a tad tedious -- but here is a reflection of Claude's inner feelings.
In the film's story, Claude (John Savage) is from Oklahoma, has just been drafted and heads to New York City for some fun before shipping out. He encounters a group of hippies, led by George Berger (Treat Williams), and he eventually falls into their "tribe" that includes the pregnant Jeannie (Annie Golden), Woof (Don Dacus) and African American Hud (Dorsey Wright). Along the way they cross paths with society girl Sheila (Beverly D'Angelo) who also abandons the tony suburbs and joins the group.
Weller manages to work into the script nearly all of the catchy songs that Galt McDermot and James Rado and Gerome Ragni wrote. Forman uses "Aquarius" to frame the film and from the opening shots in Central Park, one immediately wants to go on this ride of a movie. Twyla Tharp did the choreography and there's some terrific staging involving horses in that opening number that still can cause one to stop and go "how did they accomplish that?" She also does terrific work on the numbers "Black Boys" and "White Boys" which inject humor and touch of silliness to the project (and the scenes involving these numbers include Laurie Beechman, Michael Jeter and Nell Carter -- who all left us too soon -- as well as Charlayne Woodard and Ellen Foley).
Forman is to be commended because he hired actors who could sing (several had stage credits) rather than relying on movie star names with questionable abilities. Williams is a charismatic ringleader (see the "I Got Life" number where he disrupts a staid suburban dinner party) and emerges as the genuine star of the movie. He's matched well, though, by Savage, who takes what might have been a cliche and turns him into a real person. D'Angelo is terrific as the not as uptight as you might expect debutante, while Golden invest her character with heart.
But hands down, the most electrifying moments come from Cheryl Barnes when she sings "Easy To Be Hard" as an anthem full of pain and hurt. The woman has amazing screen presence and a voice that is unbelievable. Every time I hear her or see this sequence, I get goosebumps. Even the time I watched the film and wasn't into it, her scene just touched me immeasurably. She's gone on to pursue a singing career, but I wish someone would have cast her in at least another movie. (I can dream.) This song alone elevates the film to a different level.
The film's ending (which I won't detail for anyone unfamiliar with the material) hits a bull's-eye and catches one short. It makes one angry, sad and respectful without succumbing to pathos.
When Hair was first released in 1979, it wasn't a box-office success, perhaps because film audiences were only open to dramatic fare about Vietnam. The previous year, The Deer Hunter and Coming Home had dominated the Academy Awards and Platoon and Full Metal Jacket were yet to be. Musicals weren't in vogue at the time, despite the yeoman work of Forman and his cast and crew. Over time, some have come to appreciate the film as among the director's better efforts. Now, more than 40 years after the original premiered on stage, and 30 years since the movie opened in theaters, it seems ripe for re-exploring. Try to catch it when it runs on cable or rent or buy the DVD. It's worth it.
Rating: B+
Screenwriter Michael Weller takes a lot of liberties with the rather skimpy original plot but much of what he concocted makes sense. He also includes homages to the stage show, including the infamous nude scene that closes the first act (now a skinny dip in a pond in Central Park) and an acid trip that on stage sometimes seems twee and perhaps even a tad tedious -- but here is a reflection of Claude's inner feelings.
In the film's story, Claude (John Savage) is from Oklahoma, has just been drafted and heads to New York City for some fun before shipping out. He encounters a group of hippies, led by George Berger (Treat Williams), and he eventually falls into their "tribe" that includes the pregnant Jeannie (Annie Golden), Woof (Don Dacus) and African American Hud (Dorsey Wright). Along the way they cross paths with society girl Sheila (Beverly D'Angelo) who also abandons the tony suburbs and joins the group.
Weller manages to work into the script nearly all of the catchy songs that Galt McDermot and James Rado and Gerome Ragni wrote. Forman uses "Aquarius" to frame the film and from the opening shots in Central Park, one immediately wants to go on this ride of a movie. Twyla Tharp did the choreography and there's some terrific staging involving horses in that opening number that still can cause one to stop and go "how did they accomplish that?" She also does terrific work on the numbers "Black Boys" and "White Boys" which inject humor and touch of silliness to the project (and the scenes involving these numbers include Laurie Beechman, Michael Jeter and Nell Carter -- who all left us too soon -- as well as Charlayne Woodard and Ellen Foley).
Forman is to be commended because he hired actors who could sing (several had stage credits) rather than relying on movie star names with questionable abilities. Williams is a charismatic ringleader (see the "I Got Life" number where he disrupts a staid suburban dinner party) and emerges as the genuine star of the movie. He's matched well, though, by Savage, who takes what might have been a cliche and turns him into a real person. D'Angelo is terrific as the not as uptight as you might expect debutante, while Golden invest her character with heart.
But hands down, the most electrifying moments come from Cheryl Barnes when she sings "Easy To Be Hard" as an anthem full of pain and hurt. The woman has amazing screen presence and a voice that is unbelievable. Every time I hear her or see this sequence, I get goosebumps. Even the time I watched the film and wasn't into it, her scene just touched me immeasurably. She's gone on to pursue a singing career, but I wish someone would have cast her in at least another movie. (I can dream.) This song alone elevates the film to a different level.
The film's ending (which I won't detail for anyone unfamiliar with the material) hits a bull's-eye and catches one short. It makes one angry, sad and respectful without succumbing to pathos.
When Hair was first released in 1979, it wasn't a box-office success, perhaps because film audiences were only open to dramatic fare about Vietnam. The previous year, The Deer Hunter and Coming Home had dominated the Academy Awards and Platoon and Full Metal Jacket were yet to be. Musicals weren't in vogue at the time, despite the yeoman work of Forman and his cast and crew. Over time, some have come to appreciate the film as among the director's better efforts. Now, more than 40 years after the original premiered on stage, and 30 years since the movie opened in theaters, it seems ripe for re-exploring. Try to catch it when it runs on cable or rent or buy the DVD. It's worth it.
Rating: B+
December 6: Golden Oldie
One of my all-time favorite actresses is Bette Davis. I cannot really articulate why, but I find her to be an intriguing and fascinating screen presence. Perhaps because she was willing to take risks and play characters that might be unlikable. Perhaps because she was more versatile than many realize. Perhaps because she just happened to be a damned good actress. I got to work with the producers of one of her TV-movies as they were preparing the opening credits and wanted various photographs of her through the years. And then, I actually got to meet the woman herself -- which remains a very special moment in my life.
So, thanks to the good folks at Green Cine, I scored a copy of Old Acquaintance, a woman's picture from 1943. I had seen the movie a long time ago but I wanted to watch it again.
Old Acquaintance is an adaptation of a play by John Van Druten (who received co-writing credit with Lenore Coffee on the screenplay) and centers on the life-long friendship between Katherine 'Kit' Marlowe (Davis) and Mildred 'Millie' Watson Drake (Miriam Hopkins). When the film opens, it's 1924 and Kit Marlowe has just published her first novel. Millie is to host her visit and has everything all planned out -- and, of course, nothing goes as expected. It becomes clear that Millie is spoiled, petulant and somewhat jealous of Kit's success, while Kit envies Millie's domestic life with her husband Preston (John Loder). Millie shows Kit a manuscript for a novel that she has written and before you know it, the years pass and Mrs. Drake has become a successful writer of pulp romances. Meanwhile, Kit's work comes slowly, wins awards, but sells few copies.
We skip ahead and Kit is trying her hand at playwriting while Millie is spending money wildly, neglecting her daughter and her husband. Preston makes it clear that he cares for Kit who declines his offer so as not to offend her friend.
Another jump in time and the U.S.A. has entered World War II. Kit has acquired a younger lover (Gig Young) who helps her arrange a meeting between Preston (now a major in the army) and his now-grown daughter (Dolores Moran).
Over the course of the film, marriages break up, lovers come and go, but the one constant is the friendship between the two women. Of course, one of the themes of the film is that a woman can have a career or a family but not both. (Something that Davis herself struggled with off-screen.)
Hopkins has the flashier role and her histrionics are mildly amusing. The character is meant to be somewhat annoying and the actress perfectly captures that. Davis has the more subdued role and she excels in the part. Her role allows her to play the martyr and suffer nobly. Much has been written about the women's real-life dislike of one another and there's a famous scene where Davis literally shakes Hopkins in an effort to knock sense into her. It's capped by a clipped and amusing "Sorry!" But while that may be the sequence everyone knows, the overall movie is terrific.
The supporting cast is fine. Young, in one of his first roles, acquits himself well. Moran is fine while character players Anne Revere (as a bitchy journalist) and Esther Dale (as Davis' maid) do sterling work.
The DVD transfer is pristine, maintaining the terrific black and white photography. The extras include commentary by director Vincent Sherman and Davis biographer Boze Hadleigh, a Warner Bros. cartoon, a short Stars on Horseback, and a featurette Old Acquaintance: A Classic Woman's Picture, which has commentary by Jeanine Basinger, Hadleigh, and others.
The movie was remade in 1981 by director George Cukor as Rich and Famous, and at the time of this writing Cameron Diaz is attempting to do a contemporary spin on the material.
Rating: B+
So, thanks to the good folks at Green Cine, I scored a copy of Old Acquaintance, a woman's picture from 1943. I had seen the movie a long time ago but I wanted to watch it again.
Old Acquaintance is an adaptation of a play by John Van Druten (who received co-writing credit with Lenore Coffee on the screenplay) and centers on the life-long friendship between Katherine 'Kit' Marlowe (Davis) and Mildred 'Millie' Watson Drake (Miriam Hopkins). When the film opens, it's 1924 and Kit Marlowe has just published her first novel. Millie is to host her visit and has everything all planned out -- and, of course, nothing goes as expected. It becomes clear that Millie is spoiled, petulant and somewhat jealous of Kit's success, while Kit envies Millie's domestic life with her husband Preston (John Loder). Millie shows Kit a manuscript for a novel that she has written and before you know it, the years pass and Mrs. Drake has become a successful writer of pulp romances. Meanwhile, Kit's work comes slowly, wins awards, but sells few copies.
We skip ahead and Kit is trying her hand at playwriting while Millie is spending money wildly, neglecting her daughter and her husband. Preston makes it clear that he cares for Kit who declines his offer so as not to offend her friend.
Another jump in time and the U.S.A. has entered World War II. Kit has acquired a younger lover (Gig Young) who helps her arrange a meeting between Preston (now a major in the army) and his now-grown daughter (Dolores Moran).
Over the course of the film, marriages break up, lovers come and go, but the one constant is the friendship between the two women. Of course, one of the themes of the film is that a woman can have a career or a family but not both. (Something that Davis herself struggled with off-screen.)
Hopkins has the flashier role and her histrionics are mildly amusing. The character is meant to be somewhat annoying and the actress perfectly captures that. Davis has the more subdued role and she excels in the part. Her role allows her to play the martyr and suffer nobly. Much has been written about the women's real-life dislike of one another and there's a famous scene where Davis literally shakes Hopkins in an effort to knock sense into her. It's capped by a clipped and amusing "Sorry!" But while that may be the sequence everyone knows, the overall movie is terrific.
The supporting cast is fine. Young, in one of his first roles, acquits himself well. Moran is fine while character players Anne Revere (as a bitchy journalist) and Esther Dale (as Davis' maid) do sterling work.
The DVD transfer is pristine, maintaining the terrific black and white photography. The extras include commentary by director Vincent Sherman and Davis biographer Boze Hadleigh, a Warner Bros. cartoon, a short Stars on Horseback, and a featurette Old Acquaintance: A Classic Woman's Picture, which has commentary by Jeanine Basinger, Hadleigh, and others.
The movie was remade in 1981 by director George Cukor as Rich and Famous, and at the time of this writing Cameron Diaz is attempting to do a contemporary spin on the material.
Rating: B+
Saturday, December 5, 2009
December 5: Documentaries: TOOTS, YOU MUST BE THIS TALL, and CHRIS & DON
I like to mix up my viewing between various types of films. Sometimes I get on a kick and check out a few documentaries at a time, as I did recently.
When I covered most film festivals, there were times I'd get frustrated because several films would be playing at the same time that I wanted to check out -- while other times I was scrambling to find something -- anything -- to see. Such was the case when I covered Tribeca a couple of years ago and the documentary Toots was playing. I had an interest in this film for a couple of reasons. I'm fascinated by the nightlife of the 1940s and 50s and had enjoyed reading books about that period (including James Gavin's INTIMATE NIGHTS) and I recall stories of Shor and his legendary nightspot from my youth. His was a "saloon" that attracted celebrities ranging from comedian Jackie Gleason to actor John Wayne to newsman Mike Wallace. This film, a portrait crafted from interviews with the man (conducted a couple of years before his death in 1977) intercut with stock footage and fresh reminiscences by Wallace, author Pete Hamill, baseball player turned sportscaster Joe Garagiola, and others, was directed by Shor's granddaughter Kristi Jacobson.
Unlike some family projects, Jacobson takes a warts-and-all approach to the man. With the benefit of those tapes, we hear Shor tell parts of his life story in his own voice. The interviewees provide additional color and Jacobson doesn't whitewash her grandfather's faults and failings. What emerges is a wonderful portrait of a lost era, when the common man could mingle with the celebrity. Although it took me a couple of years to finally see the movie, I was very glad I had and would highly recommend it.
Rating: A -
Having grown up in Rhode Island, I spent some of my time at the amusement parks in the state. When I was a kid, there were two main ones: Crescent Park and Rocky Point. Unfortunately, both have gone the way of the dinosaur. As far as I know, no one has made a film about Crescent Park, but David Bettencourt, in his feature directorial debut, has documented the story of its rival in You Must Be This Tall: The Story of Rocky Point. Now, honestly, I'm not sure just how widespread an interest there might be for this film, beyond Rhode Islanders (or former Rhode Islanders) and aficianados of theme parks, but I can say that I was immediately transported back to my childhood. Watching this well-made film awakened long dormant memories. The movie also taught me about the history of the place. And I actually knew one of the interviewees, a former employee of Rocky Point, who had been a couple of years ahead of me in high school. This is a specialized movie but one that was close to my heart. If you enjoy amusement parks or New England history, it's worth a look.
Rating: B
The last of the documentaries I recently watched was Chris & Don. A Love Story. A couple of years ago, I was working with a regarded writer who had some correspondence from Don Bachardy. The name sounded vaguely familiar but I could not place it. I was told he was Christopher Isherwood's lover and that he was also an artist of some repute. So when I learned that someone had documented the couple's relationship, I figured I might check it out and hopefully learn something. Of course, I knew of Isherwood; he was the author of the THE BERLIN STORIES which were the basis for the play I Am a Camera and later the musical Cabaret (both of which were filmed). Watching this documentary, directed by Tina Mascara and Guido Santi, I had some mixed feelings.
Isherwood was an established writer who had settled in the United States in 1939 (becoming a citizen in 1946). In the early 1950s, while living in Southern California, he made the acquaintance of young Don Bachardy. With almost a 30-year gap between them, the pair embarked on a love affair that lasted -- not without its bumps -- until Isherwood's death in January 1986. A cynic might claim that Bachardy has wrapped himself in the mantle of the "Widow Isherwood". While he is a portaitist of some regard, he main claim to fame is that he was Isherwood's lover. It's clear that the writer wielded a lot of influence over the painter -- as some have pointed out, Bachardy adopted the clipped intonations of Isherwood and despite being raised in Southern California, he sounds like he hails from Great Britain. But there are some red flags about this relationship.
First of all, there's the age gap. Yes, from photographs and home movies of the period, Bachardy was clearly a handsome youth. But the fact that Isherwood enjoyed a liaison with Bachardy's older brother Ted, who later suffered a breakdown, underwent shock therapy and has battled mental illness is presented in an offhand manner. It raises some questions that are not answered or addressed: Did Isherwood romance the older boy to get to the youth? Or did he transfer his regard for the older boy to the younger after the older became ill? Or was it just happenstance?
Due to Ted Bachardy's illness, we may never know.
In the 1950s, the relationship raised eyebrows, as much for the age difference as for the transparency of it. Neither man felt the need to "pass" as heterosexual and they went everywhere together as a couple. It was Isherwood who encouraged the youth to pursue art, resulting in Bachardy's career as a portrait painter.
We hear snippets of Isherwood's thoughts read from his diaries by actor Michael York (who played the Isherwood character in the film Cabaret) and Bachardy speaks of the times when the couple pursued other lovers -- including a time when it appeared they might leave one another. Clearly, this is an unconventional love story, but one that I felt wasn't completely explored. We get a mostly one-sided view and I was left wanting something more.
Rating: B-
When I covered most film festivals, there were times I'd get frustrated because several films would be playing at the same time that I wanted to check out -- while other times I was scrambling to find something -- anything -- to see. Such was the case when I covered Tribeca a couple of years ago and the documentary Toots was playing. I had an interest in this film for a couple of reasons. I'm fascinated by the nightlife of the 1940s and 50s and had enjoyed reading books about that period (including James Gavin's INTIMATE NIGHTS) and I recall stories of Shor and his legendary nightspot from my youth. His was a "saloon" that attracted celebrities ranging from comedian Jackie Gleason to actor John Wayne to newsman Mike Wallace. This film, a portrait crafted from interviews with the man (conducted a couple of years before his death in 1977) intercut with stock footage and fresh reminiscences by Wallace, author Pete Hamill, baseball player turned sportscaster Joe Garagiola, and others, was directed by Shor's granddaughter Kristi Jacobson.
Unlike some family projects, Jacobson takes a warts-and-all approach to the man. With the benefit of those tapes, we hear Shor tell parts of his life story in his own voice. The interviewees provide additional color and Jacobson doesn't whitewash her grandfather's faults and failings. What emerges is a wonderful portrait of a lost era, when the common man could mingle with the celebrity. Although it took me a couple of years to finally see the movie, I was very glad I had and would highly recommend it.
Rating: A -
Having grown up in Rhode Island, I spent some of my time at the amusement parks in the state. When I was a kid, there were two main ones: Crescent Park and Rocky Point. Unfortunately, both have gone the way of the dinosaur. As far as I know, no one has made a film about Crescent Park, but David Bettencourt, in his feature directorial debut, has documented the story of its rival in You Must Be This Tall: The Story of Rocky Point. Now, honestly, I'm not sure just how widespread an interest there might be for this film, beyond Rhode Islanders (or former Rhode Islanders) and aficianados of theme parks, but I can say that I was immediately transported back to my childhood. Watching this well-made film awakened long dormant memories. The movie also taught me about the history of the place. And I actually knew one of the interviewees, a former employee of Rocky Point, who had been a couple of years ahead of me in high school. This is a specialized movie but one that was close to my heart. If you enjoy amusement parks or New England history, it's worth a look.
Rating: B
The last of the documentaries I recently watched was Chris & Don. A Love Story. A couple of years ago, I was working with a regarded writer who had some correspondence from Don Bachardy. The name sounded vaguely familiar but I could not place it. I was told he was Christopher Isherwood's lover and that he was also an artist of some repute. So when I learned that someone had documented the couple's relationship, I figured I might check it out and hopefully learn something. Of course, I knew of Isherwood; he was the author of the THE BERLIN STORIES which were the basis for the play I Am a Camera and later the musical Cabaret (both of which were filmed). Watching this documentary, directed by Tina Mascara and Guido Santi, I had some mixed feelings.
Isherwood was an established writer who had settled in the United States in 1939 (becoming a citizen in 1946). In the early 1950s, while living in Southern California, he made the acquaintance of young Don Bachardy. With almost a 30-year gap between them, the pair embarked on a love affair that lasted -- not without its bumps -- until Isherwood's death in January 1986. A cynic might claim that Bachardy has wrapped himself in the mantle of the "Widow Isherwood". While he is a portaitist of some regard, he main claim to fame is that he was Isherwood's lover. It's clear that the writer wielded a lot of influence over the painter -- as some have pointed out, Bachardy adopted the clipped intonations of Isherwood and despite being raised in Southern California, he sounds like he hails from Great Britain. But there are some red flags about this relationship.
First of all, there's the age gap. Yes, from photographs and home movies of the period, Bachardy was clearly a handsome youth. But the fact that Isherwood enjoyed a liaison with Bachardy's older brother Ted, who later suffered a breakdown, underwent shock therapy and has battled mental illness is presented in an offhand manner. It raises some questions that are not answered or addressed: Did Isherwood romance the older boy to get to the youth? Or did he transfer his regard for the older boy to the younger after the older became ill? Or was it just happenstance?
Due to Ted Bachardy's illness, we may never know.
In the 1950s, the relationship raised eyebrows, as much for the age difference as for the transparency of it. Neither man felt the need to "pass" as heterosexual and they went everywhere together as a couple. It was Isherwood who encouraged the youth to pursue art, resulting in Bachardy's career as a portrait painter.
We hear snippets of Isherwood's thoughts read from his diaries by actor Michael York (who played the Isherwood character in the film Cabaret) and Bachardy speaks of the times when the couple pursued other lovers -- including a time when it appeared they might leave one another. Clearly, this is an unconventional love story, but one that I felt wasn't completely explored. We get a mostly one-sided view and I was left wanting something more.
Rating: B-
Friday, December 4, 2009
December 4: The Living End
Back in the heady days of the early 1990s when New Queer Cinema was at its nascent best, Gregg Araki broke through at Sundance with his anarchic road movie The Living End. I managed to catch the original showings back in 1992 in New York and came away somewhat impressed by the director's freewheeling style. He went on to craft similarly loosely plotted films including his "Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy" (Totally Fucked Up, 1993; The Doom Generation, 1995; and Nowhere, 1997) before turning to slightly more mature themes in the romantic comedy Splendor. He displayed a newfound maturity with the poignant Mysterious Skin (2005). I haven't yet seen Smiley Face (2007), his last released film to date.
Since I upgraded my cable system, I'm now able to stream films over the Internet and so I took advantage of my Netflix subscription to watch The Living End. I can't say exactly why I chose this one to watch except that it had a shorter running time than most of the films in my queue, it was World AIDS Day and perhaps I was just in the mood for a rollicking road movie about two HIV-positive gay men acting like Thelma and Louise.
Araki's plots are loose and leave a lot of open-ended issues. Some of his characterizations are broad, like the lesbians who give a ride to Luke (Mike Dytri), the studly hitchhiking drfter who turns out to be one of the film's heroes. Our other hero is movie critic Jon (Craig Gillmore) who, as the film opens, is told he is HIV-positive. Now remember, this was in the early 1990s when there were fewer drugs available and a diagnosis more or less meant a death sentence. Jon doesn't quite know how to react and while driving around, he crosses paths with Luke -- who has just fended off some over-the-top gay bashers, possibly having killed one or all of them.
Jon is a bit of a naif, so he takes Luke in, and the sexual tension gives way to real sex. The more they hang out together, the more Jon comes to realize that Luke is a loose cannon, releasing his anger at the world through violence. Jon breaks it off, but Luke worms his way back in one night when he confesses he may have killed a policemen. The pair go on the run up the California coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco. For the first time in his life, Jon is liberated while Luke begins to develop actual feelings.
And then ... well, the film sort of peters out. The denouement is meant to signify something grander than it conjures. The two leads are pleasant to look at and share a comfortable chemistry. Araki takes the cliche of the good girl falling for the bad boy and adds a same-sex spin to it. The film's ending leaves the viewer pondering about this couple's fate -- and whether they deserve each other or not.
While watching the movie, I had a vague recollection of scenes and characters, yet there were some surprises as well. I recall being mildly impressed with the film when it was released in 1992. I felt about the same way this time. It's not something I'd want to see again -- at least not for another decade, but it is a curiosity in Araki's career.
Rating: C+
Since I upgraded my cable system, I'm now able to stream films over the Internet and so I took advantage of my Netflix subscription to watch The Living End. I can't say exactly why I chose this one to watch except that it had a shorter running time than most of the films in my queue, it was World AIDS Day and perhaps I was just in the mood for a rollicking road movie about two HIV-positive gay men acting like Thelma and Louise.
Araki's plots are loose and leave a lot of open-ended issues. Some of his characterizations are broad, like the lesbians who give a ride to Luke (Mike Dytri), the studly hitchhiking drfter who turns out to be one of the film's heroes. Our other hero is movie critic Jon (Craig Gillmore) who, as the film opens, is told he is HIV-positive. Now remember, this was in the early 1990s when there were fewer drugs available and a diagnosis more or less meant a death sentence. Jon doesn't quite know how to react and while driving around, he crosses paths with Luke -- who has just fended off some over-the-top gay bashers, possibly having killed one or all of them.
Jon is a bit of a naif, so he takes Luke in, and the sexual tension gives way to real sex. The more they hang out together, the more Jon comes to realize that Luke is a loose cannon, releasing his anger at the world through violence. Jon breaks it off, but Luke worms his way back in one night when he confesses he may have killed a policemen. The pair go on the run up the California coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco. For the first time in his life, Jon is liberated while Luke begins to develop actual feelings.
And then ... well, the film sort of peters out. The denouement is meant to signify something grander than it conjures. The two leads are pleasant to look at and share a comfortable chemistry. Araki takes the cliche of the good girl falling for the bad boy and adds a same-sex spin to it. The film's ending leaves the viewer pondering about this couple's fate -- and whether they deserve each other or not.
While watching the movie, I had a vague recollection of scenes and characters, yet there were some surprises as well. I recall being mildly impressed with the film when it was released in 1992. I felt about the same way this time. It's not something I'd want to see again -- at least not for another decade, but it is a curiosity in Araki's career.
Rating: C+
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Dec. 3 "Approaching Union Square"
Recently, I upgraded my cable to include High Definition, so I now have a DVR -- which for me can be a dangerous thing. I've already loaded up on the occasional TV show (Hello! "Glee" and "FlashForward"), and have recorded several films that were scheduled during the hours I need to sleep. Over the last two years -- since I started with cable again -- I have been frustrated because occasionally a film I would like to watch appears on the channel's schedule ONCE -- one time -- and usually at the strange hour of 2am or so. (What that says about the films I want to watch is another story.)
So, recently I set the DVR for a small film that was playing on the Sundance Channel called Approaching Union Square. I selected this little indie for a couple of reasons. I used to live near and work in the Union Square area and I've been very nostalgic for Manhattan recently. And then there was the small matter that I was acquainted with one of the actors. So with a running time of 80 minutes, I figured what did I have to lose?
Without knowing much about the film, I settled in to watch and almost immediately I had the feeling that it was based on a play. There was something very theatrical in the set-up and the first scene is a woman (Katie Kreisler) talking to her therapist which culminates in the revelation that she thinks she's psychic. She soon boards a bus on which there are 9 other passengers and as the camera pans, it settles on one and there's a flashback to a recent event in their lives. Each rider has a moment but overall the only thing the characters have in common is that they are all on the same bus.
As it turns out, the film, which marked the feature directing and writing debut of Marc Meyers, was based on Meyers' stage play Love & Sex: Tales From the Trenches, which consisted of 11 monologues.
So once I "got" the film's set-up, I settled back and tried to appreciate the film. Overall, the acting was adequate with a couple of stand outs. The best known actor in the film would be Christine Elise (McCarthy), who played the recurring role of Jason Priestley's girlfriend on the old "Beverly Hills, 90210" series. Here she's cast as a woman seeking love and engaging in a long-distance flirtation. She does a nice job with an underwritten role. Others who stood out were Kreisler (perhaps because hers was the first and eventually the one that does ties the others together); Darren Pettie as a smug sex addict; Brent Crawford discussing an ex-girlfriend who is now ill; Victoria Haas as a cheating spouse breaking things off with her lover; and Patricia Randell as a woman afraid of many things.
Meyers is a better director than he is a writer -- personally I found several of the vignettes underdeveloped and undramatic. What may work on stage in a theater doesn't always translate well to the big screen -- and that is the case with several of the monologues. Meyers' staging and use of the camera, though, were assured and did not betray his status as a novice.
I got to see the actor with whom I was acquainted (and for several reasons I choose not to identify him/her) but there was hardly any shots of the streets of New York. The bus riders could have been approaching the Upper East Side or Central Park or anywhere in Manhattan (or even somewhere in one of the boroughs). For that, I was disappointed. Overall, the movie itself was intriguing and several of the scenes were enough to whet the appetite, unfortunately, as a whole, they weren't a filling meal.
Rating: C
So, recently I set the DVR for a small film that was playing on the Sundance Channel called Approaching Union Square. I selected this little indie for a couple of reasons. I used to live near and work in the Union Square area and I've been very nostalgic for Manhattan recently. And then there was the small matter that I was acquainted with one of the actors. So with a running time of 80 minutes, I figured what did I have to lose?
Without knowing much about the film, I settled in to watch and almost immediately I had the feeling that it was based on a play. There was something very theatrical in the set-up and the first scene is a woman (Katie Kreisler) talking to her therapist which culminates in the revelation that she thinks she's psychic. She soon boards a bus on which there are 9 other passengers and as the camera pans, it settles on one and there's a flashback to a recent event in their lives. Each rider has a moment but overall the only thing the characters have in common is that they are all on the same bus.
As it turns out, the film, which marked the feature directing and writing debut of Marc Meyers, was based on Meyers' stage play Love & Sex: Tales From the Trenches, which consisted of 11 monologues.
So once I "got" the film's set-up, I settled back and tried to appreciate the film. Overall, the acting was adequate with a couple of stand outs. The best known actor in the film would be Christine Elise (McCarthy), who played the recurring role of Jason Priestley's girlfriend on the old "Beverly Hills, 90210" series. Here she's cast as a woman seeking love and engaging in a long-distance flirtation. She does a nice job with an underwritten role. Others who stood out were Kreisler (perhaps because hers was the first and eventually the one that does ties the others together); Darren Pettie as a smug sex addict; Brent Crawford discussing an ex-girlfriend who is now ill; Victoria Haas as a cheating spouse breaking things off with her lover; and Patricia Randell as a woman afraid of many things.
Meyers is a better director than he is a writer -- personally I found several of the vignettes underdeveloped and undramatic. What may work on stage in a theater doesn't always translate well to the big screen -- and that is the case with several of the monologues. Meyers' staging and use of the camera, though, were assured and did not betray his status as a novice.
I got to see the actor with whom I was acquainted (and for several reasons I choose not to identify him/her) but there was hardly any shots of the streets of New York. The bus riders could have been approaching the Upper East Side or Central Park or anywhere in Manhattan (or even somewhere in one of the boroughs). For that, I was disappointed. Overall, the movie itself was intriguing and several of the scenes were enough to whet the appetite, unfortunately, as a whole, they weren't a filling meal.
Rating: C
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
December 2: "Les amours d'Astrée et de Céladon"
I was a weird kid, no question about it, but one thing for which I'm grateful is that I started learning French almost from the time I could speak. My mom had learned it in high school, my older sister had studied the language (as well as Spanish) and my aunt was a schoolteacher who sometimes taught French to her students. I went to Catholic schools and French was part of the curriculum, so I had eight years of French, followed by four more in high school. Since there was a language requirement in college, I first chose to take French (hey, it was an easy A), but then I got ambitious and decided to study German.
One of the benefits of studying the language was that we got to see several films in French. Indeed, I have indelible memories of my very first French-language film: Truffaut's Jules et Jim. Is it any wonder why I got hooked? I managed to see as many Truffaut films as I could (this was in the days before VHS and DVD) so I was dependent on revival houses. When I got to college in Boston -- the city was bursting with cineastes and one could head to the Orson Wells in Cambridge, or the Nickelodeon in Boston or the Coolidge Corner in Brookline. Plus BU had a pretty great cinema club going -- every weekend there were wonderful double features. Those were heady times which I know are just memories for some of us older folks.
So eventually I got introduced to Eric Rohmer's films. He's a fascinating filmmaker, mostly because he treats the audience with respect and intelligence. Rohmer's films deal more with human relationships. Some find his work very "talky" -- me, I find them irresistible.
His most recent effort (and what he has claimed will be his final movie) was 2007's Les amours d'Astrée et de Céladon (The Romance of Astrea and Celadon). This is a rare venture into period filmmaking for the director. He had previously suffered commercial failure with 1978's Perceval le Gallois, which was adapted from Arthurian legend. More than 20 years later, Rohmer tackled another "period" drama L'Aglaise et le duc (The Lady and the Duke) which played at the New York Film Festival. The director employed digital technology to create the backdrops and the result was quite fascinating. I rather enjoyed the movie although I know it was something of a minority view.
The Romance of Astrea and Celadon was adapted from a pastoral romance that itself was set in the fifth century. It's basically a tried and true tale of love -- in this case between a comely shepherdess (Astrea) and her lover, an aristocrat who works as a shepherd (Celadon). His family doesn't approve of her and so he must pretend to woo another. She spies him getting a bit too friendly with the "pretend" girlfriend and misconstrues the events. Her jealousy leads her to denounce her lover, who broken-heartedly threatens to kill himself. In fact, he jumps into a nearby river and his body is never found.
Well, at least not by his beloved or by his family. When he does wash up on shore, he's found by a nymph named Galatea and her minions, one of whom is the daughter of a druid priest. They nurse him back to health, but Galatea is certain he's to be her lover. One of her servants, Sylvia, frees Celadon and with the aid of her father, a druid priest, plot to reunite him with his beloved.
As in any Rohmer film, there's a lot of talk -- in this case about the nature of love and its many forms. There's also a wonderful sequence between the druid priest and Celadon in which the men discuss religion. The performances are somewhat formal as dictated by the plot, but otherwise enjoyable. It may not rank as the best of Rohmer's oeuvre but fans of the director's work should find The Romance of Astrea and Celadon satisfying.
Rating: B+
One of the benefits of studying the language was that we got to see several films in French. Indeed, I have indelible memories of my very first French-language film: Truffaut's Jules et Jim. Is it any wonder why I got hooked? I managed to see as many Truffaut films as I could (this was in the days before VHS and DVD) so I was dependent on revival houses. When I got to college in Boston -- the city was bursting with cineastes and one could head to the Orson Wells in Cambridge, or the Nickelodeon in Boston or the Coolidge Corner in Brookline. Plus BU had a pretty great cinema club going -- every weekend there were wonderful double features. Those were heady times which I know are just memories for some of us older folks.
So eventually I got introduced to Eric Rohmer's films. He's a fascinating filmmaker, mostly because he treats the audience with respect and intelligence. Rohmer's films deal more with human relationships. Some find his work very "talky" -- me, I find them irresistible.
His most recent effort (and what he has claimed will be his final movie) was 2007's Les amours d'Astrée et de Céladon (The Romance of Astrea and Celadon). This is a rare venture into period filmmaking for the director. He had previously suffered commercial failure with 1978's Perceval le Gallois, which was adapted from Arthurian legend. More than 20 years later, Rohmer tackled another "period" drama L'Aglaise et le duc (The Lady and the Duke) which played at the New York Film Festival. The director employed digital technology to create the backdrops and the result was quite fascinating. I rather enjoyed the movie although I know it was something of a minority view.
The Romance of Astrea and Celadon was adapted from a pastoral romance that itself was set in the fifth century. It's basically a tried and true tale of love -- in this case between a comely shepherdess (Astrea) and her lover, an aristocrat who works as a shepherd (Celadon). His family doesn't approve of her and so he must pretend to woo another. She spies him getting a bit too friendly with the "pretend" girlfriend and misconstrues the events. Her jealousy leads her to denounce her lover, who broken-heartedly threatens to kill himself. In fact, he jumps into a nearby river and his body is never found.
Well, at least not by his beloved or by his family. When he does wash up on shore, he's found by a nymph named Galatea and her minions, one of whom is the daughter of a druid priest. They nurse him back to health, but Galatea is certain he's to be her lover. One of her servants, Sylvia, frees Celadon and with the aid of her father, a druid priest, plot to reunite him with his beloved.
As in any Rohmer film, there's a lot of talk -- in this case about the nature of love and its many forms. There's also a wonderful sequence between the druid priest and Celadon in which the men discuss religion. The performances are somewhat formal as dictated by the plot, but otherwise enjoyable. It may not rank as the best of Rohmer's oeuvre but fans of the director's work should find The Romance of Astrea and Celadon satisfying.
Rating: B+
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