The story of the rustic Aussie cowboy Michael J. “Crocodile” Dundee character brought to the vacuous Manhattan lifestyle in the height of Reagan-era 80’s decadence milks every ounce of comedy and charm from this scenario. It was an unlikely megahit in 1986, but even today the film remains highly watchable thanks to the easy-going naturalism and uber chemistry from its two newbie stars Paul Hogan and Linda Kozlowski.
Showing posts with label Romantic Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Romantic Comedy. Show all posts
Thursday, 15 May 2014
Friday, 5 July 2013
Frances Ha
The choice of shooting black and white for this picture is key to its warm feelings of cinematic nostalgia and the seemingly effortless naturalism. There’s an instant timeless quality to Frances Ha, recalling the works of Woody Allen (Manhattan), Jim Jarmusch (Stranger Than Paradise), Francios Truffaut and other New Wavers. Perfectly in sync with Boambach’s freeform style is the grand presence of Greta Gerwig whose lively personality is the raison d’etre for this picture. And recalling Diane Keaton’s performance in Annie Hall, we should expect Greta Gerwig to have similar award accolades during award season.
Monday, 29 October 2012
Safety Not Guaranteed
This soft and unambitious indie hit from this year’s Sundance Film Festival arguably overachieves from its aspirations as a low-rent love story with a sci-fi bent. Executive produced by the Duplass Bros., the story of a lowly magazine intern who falls for a batty backwoods loner who thinks he can travel in time, with mild doses of humour, science fiction and romance, fits into the organic roots of the Northwestern brand of indie cinema.
Safety Not Guaranteed (2012) dir. Colin Trevorrow
Starring: Aubrey Plaza, Jake Johnson, Karan Soni, Mark Duplass, Jenica Bergere
By Alan Bacchus
By design, director Colin Trevorrow begins his story with a pair of extremely unlikable characterizations of his co-leads; Darius (Plaza), a magazine intern introduced doing the dreck work for a glossy Seattle magazine, an underachiever due to her extremely cynical Gen-X viewpoint on life; and Jeff (Johnson), an arrogant and monumentally annoying writer who ropes Darius into helping him write a story on a curious classified ad in a local paper. The ad states that a man is looking for a partner to travel back in time with him, with the cautionary warning, 'Must bring own weapons, safety not guaranteed’.
Venturing out of the big city, Darius, Jeff and tag-along intern IT nerd Arnau (Soni), embark on a road trip of sorts which has them bonding over their strange assignment. The trio seek out and stalk the owner of the ad who turns out to be Mark Duplass as Kenneth, a shy recluse with delusions of grandeur.
Going undercover, it’s up to Darius to cozy up to Kenneth to digest the man’s idiosyncrasies and find the information and back story through which to mock and shame this poor man publicly for the trite urban magazine.
At this point it’s a typical romcom set-up, a lie which begins the relationship then changes from observe-and-report to romantic love, at which point the lie from the beginning will bite back as true identities become revealed. Indeed Trevorrow, working from Derek Connolly’s script, moves in this direction, but it’s his evolving characterizations that break through these worn-out genre conventions.
As much as we hate the egocentric writer Jeff, there’s some talent in crafting such a despicable douchebag who self-identifies himself by his cool condo and his Cadillac Escalade. Trevorrow gradually reveals a soul beneath Jeff’s bravado. When he reconnects with a female lover from the past from whom he states he ‘once got a blow job,’ we see a fragile man deeply in love with this brief memory and the elusive figure from the past.
While Darius’s attraction to Kenneth and his savant-like afflictions are telegraphed clearly, it’s Jeff’s transition from grade-A urban asshole to a soul-bearing romantic opening his vulnerable heart to the woman he’s always loved which blindsides us. That said, there’s still an air of subdued emotion purposely avoiding melodrama in favour of cinematic disaffection. And so the tragedy of Jeff’s life is only a minor emotional blip reconciled by his encouragement and guidance of Arnau’s first foray into manhood.
A minor twist at the end pays off the time travel scenario, opening up the possibility that Kenneth wasn't a crackpot after all. While somewhat delightful and humorous Safety Not Guaranteed ends up being a satisfactory but unmemorable addition to Sundance’s alumni.
**½
Safety Not Guaranteed is available on DVD from Alliance Films in Canada.
Friday, 17 August 2012
The Seven Year Itch
Boasting Marilyn Monroe’s signature image with her standing over the subway grating on the street allowing the rush of wind to run up her skirt, 'The Seven Year Itch' is buoyed by Monroe’s oozing sexuality. Looking back over the years, the film is stagey and overly dependent on Tom Ewell’s miscasting as a loyal husband tempted by the allure of Monroe. Though a tad dated, it's Monroe who continues to dazzle us so many years later.
The Seven Year Itch (1955) dir. Billy Wilder
Starring: Marilyn Monroe, Tom Ewell, Evelyn Keyes
By Alan Bacchus
We’re in Billy Wilder territory here, a coy sexual comedy constantly riding the edge of moral acceptability by the then-ancient Hayes code. Richard Sherman (Ewell) is saying goodbye to his wife and son, who vacation upstate in the summer. Left on his own, he waxes on about his own virility and his peers’ falling victim to the flirtations of women when on their own. For Sherman, he’s at the seven year point of his marriage, the seven year itch, thus the period when the allure of the opposite sex is most tempting.
And along comes Marilyn Monroe, the occupant of the apartment upstairs, who arrives like gang busters, hot and sweaty on the hottest day of the summer. Sherman has air conditioning and the girl doesn’t. And so begins the comedic courtship with Sherman desperately trying to stave off Monroe’s indirect but arousing sexual advances.
Watching Ewell’s uncharismatic fumbling, we can’t help but wonder why Jack Lemmon wasn't in this film. Tom Ewell was cast because of his performance on Broadway from where this film originated. In fact, as featured on the DVD, Walter Matthau auditioned for the part. Sadly we’re left with Ewell, mostly inert and dull.
It’s an extremely difficult part. Richard Sherman dominates the film, much of it with him alone on the screen imagining his relationship with Monroe and much of it literally talking to himself in soliloquy. Where a stage production could get away with this omniscient inner voice, the sight of Ewell expounding at length on his thoughts and actions in the first person is at times excruciating.
The film sizzles when Ms. Monroe is present. She admirably plays up her image as a sextress, playing Sherman’s neighbour as a dim blonde unaware of her magnetic effect on men. Monroe fits the skin of this character as well as her eye-popping, form-fitting outfits. And there are a number of them, from the white flowing sundress in the subway scene to the randy jungle-pattern dress in Sherman’s early fantasy sequence, Wilder maximizes Monroe’s presence.
Famously, Monroe was a difficult performer on set. Her marriage with Joe DiMaggio, who was present on set, disrupted a number of suggestive scenes. And her periods of depression helped billow production costs and the schedule beyond the original budget. But these effects are invisible to the final result, one of the iconic Monroe films, a landmark in the era of the Great American sex comedies of the '50s and '60s.
***
The Seven Year Itch is available on Blu-ray in the Forever Marilyn Collection from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.
Friday, 10 August 2012
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
Howard Hawks’ screwball comedy is a man-hunting classic featuring Marilyn Monroe as a shameless gold-digger on a cruise with her showgirl partner, Dorothy (Jane Russell), a horny brunette who prefers her men athletic and viral. As part of Fox’s Marilyn Collection on Blu-ray, Hawks’ superlative Technicolor production is an eye-popping musical delight.
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) dir. Howard Hawks
Starring: Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russell, Charles Coburn, Elliot Reid, Tommy Noonan
By Alan Bacchus
After getting engaged to Gus, a rich but meek and shy nave, Lorelei and Dorothy have to travel to Europe to meet and appease Gus's controlling father. Unbeknownst to them, Gus's father has hired Ernie Malone, a private detective, to spy on them. While on the cruise, Lorelei becomes distracted by an elderly but wealthy diamond tycoon, Piggy Beekman, which Malone catches on camera. Enter Dorothy, Lorelei’s watchful protector, who uses her sexual allure to retrieve the disparaging photos. Complicating matters is Dorothy actually falling for Malone, just one of the many complications in Charles Lederer’s delirious screwball plotting.
Marilyn Monroe is at her most luscious, desirable and awkwardly hilarious. As the ditzy blonde sexpot, she is in fine form. Her cutesy voice can break glass, but her voice occasionally falters into a regular woman’s voice, hinting at some vulnerability beneath her persona. Jane Russell is no slouch for sex appeal either. Though I didn’t keep track, both Monroe and Russell seem to change outfits in almost every scene. At the very least, from a fashion standpoint the film predates the Sex and the City effect of setting fashion trends.
Hawks’ musical sequences are crafted to perfection. The opening number, ‘The Wrong Side of the Tracks’, essentially establishes the backstory. Lorelei and Dorothy, who had their hearts broken by men, leave the small town for fame and fortune in New York only to discover that men are the same everywhere. Thus, we establish a pair of career gals. Over the course of the film they fall in and out of love, but they never relinquish their control and independence in their lives.
Russell offers strong support, but the film is clearly written around Monroe. Dorothy’s confident and authoritarian attitude is a terrific contrast to Lorelei’s wondering eyes. Russell gets one solo musical number featuring a dance around a couple dozen shirtless and vain men bathing in the swimming pool, a sequence which coyly speaks to Dorothy’s libidinous desires and empowers her with sexual control.
The most famous sequence comes in the third act. ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend’ is iconic in its imagery of Monroe dressed in bright pink against a red background being carried around by tuxedo-clad men and singing about her penchant for diamonds. Jack Cole’s choreography is expertly executed by Monroe, arguably solidifying her as the most desirable celebrity in the world at the time. It’s less of a traditional dance sequence, but something Busby Berkeley might have designed, a sequence masterfully designed and composed to worship Ms. Monroe.
***½
The glorious high definition transfer of the picture also deserves worship. The 20th Century Fox box set features other Monroe classics 'How to Marry a Millionaire', 'River of No Return', 'There’s No Business Like Show Business', 'The Misfits' and 'Some Like It Hot'.
Monday, 27 February 2012
Pretty Woman
Pretty Woman (1990) dir. Garry Marshall
Starring: Julia Roberts, Richard Gere, Hector Elizondo, Jason Alexander
**½
By Alan Bacchus
Has there ever been a more glamourized movie about prostitution? Garry Marshall's rom com classic about a hooker with a heart of gold who falls in love with a luxorious millionaire birthed the enormous career of Julia Roberts and perfectly represents her working class spriteliness.
Pretty Woman was made in 1990 and reflects the tale end of the finance-sharking 1980s. It’s really just another retelling of the classic rags-to-riches story. Whether it’s Cinderella, Pygmalian, My Fair Lady and even The Elephant Man, it’s a universal story that seems adaptable in almost any medium - poor lower-class woman is plucked from obscurity and thrown into upper-class society. That’s what happens to Vivian Ward (Julia Roberts), a Los Angeles hooker with integrity who’s broke and risking eviction. Like a knight in shining armour, corporate raider millionaire Edward Lewis (Richard Gere) drives down Hollywood Blvd. looking for directions. He picks up Vivian and instantly takes a liking to her. But he's not hot for sex. For some reason he wants to bring her back to his hotel and chat. He’s so smitten with the Julia Roberts spunkiness, he pays her to be his companion for the week.
While Vivian is flush with the royal treatment, new outfits, trips to the country club and the opera, her innate goodwill causes Edward to change his ruthless business ways for the better.
Stucky, Edward’s lawyer, is dramatized with maximum sliminess. There’s no disguising him as the antagonist. Jason Alexander’s short, bald, desperate persona is a perfect physical fit. And subtle visual cues, such as his allergies to the outdoors and sunlight at the polo match, as well as his emasculating miniature pool table in his office, further castrate his character.
Pretty Woman is almost as famous for its continuity errors. In fact, I had to study the errors as an exercise at film school, specifically the infamous breakfast scene, which is rife with mistakes. But the fact that this film can get away with these errors is a testament to its immersive storytelling.
In perhaps the grossest example of double-dipping, director Garry Marshall would essentially remake his own film with 2001’s The Princess Diaries, cast Hector Elizondo in the same role and even reuse some of the same dialogue.
Pretty Woman still holds up as a minor classic in the genre. Richard Gere and Julia Roberts best all of the syrupy romantic clichés – many of which were popularized by this film.
Pretty Woman is available on Blu-ray from Walt Disney Home Entertainment.
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Annie Hall vs. Manhattan
By Alan Bacchus
Annie Hall and Manhattan are two seminal films from a master filmmaker made nearly one after another (with Interiors sandwiched in between), both nominated for Oscars. Although, Annie Hall was the bigger winner for Best Picture and Best Director (Manhattan received Best Original Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress noms). Having the opportunity to watch both films again on Blu-ray back-to-back, they make an interesting comparison.
Manhattan or Annie Hall? Which film is better? Which do you prefer? It's an often discussed point of debate among Allen fans and filmgoers in general. Full disclosure though – I don’t consider myself a Woody Allen fan. Although I admire his prolific ability to write original material and be successful, I also think he has suffered from making too many films and choosing quantity over quality. But Annie Hall and Manhattan are both magnificent studies of human relationships, exemplary to Woody Allen's innate filmmaking skills.
In Annie Hall, Allen charts the ups and downs of the relationship between Alvy Singer, a stand-up comic living in Manhattan (the thinnest veil of himself he’s ever written), and an effervescent up-and-coming singer, Annie Hall (Diane Keaton). In Manhattan, Allen leads the four-person ensemble of characters/friends and the complexities of their relationships. After his second divorce with his ex (Meryl Streep), Isaac Davis (Allen) finds himself in a relationship with a 17-year-old (Mariel Hemingway). His best friend, Yale (Michael Murphy), though married, has an affair with the slightly psychologically damaged Mary (Diane Keaton), who eventually falls for Isaac, thus disrupting his friendship with Yale.
Stylistically, the two films couldn’t be more dissimilar. In Annie Hall Allen applies a distinctly flashy and unconventional narrative technique, including quick flash cuts to Alvy’s inner thoughts. The most memorable, perhaps, is the quick insert shot of Alvy as an orthodox rabbi eating dinner with Annie’s waspy parents. The entire film is filled with these clever editorial innovations, including talking directly to camera, subtitles expressing the characters’ unspoken subtext and split-screen conversations.
Manhattan is classical in style, subdued and mature, visualized under a slick anamorphic black and white visual palette. If anything, it resembles something Francois Truffaut or Billy Wilder might have shot in the ‘60s. Allen also lets his other actors command the screen, whereas Annie Hall could be seen as a narrative expression of his stand-up act, like Seinfeld. There’s a distinct naturalism to the narrative in Manhattan, but it doesn’t sacrifice its dreamy-romantic, optimistic and cinematic finale. Annie Hall’s trajectory is mostly downward, an anti-romance with Allen himself left holding our sympathy.
Allen takes his character to task in Manhattan, at first unceremoniously dumping Mariel Hemingway’s character so he can get with Diane Keaton. This causes his need for repentance and reconciliation in the rom-com-worthy finale scene. In Annie Hall, Allen always seems to be the victim to the chase of Annie's enigmatic personality.
Interestingly, both films were shot by the great Gordon Willis (the Prince of Darkness!), famous for shooting The Godfather films. But here he shows remarkable range in accommodating the two different tones of these two films. Annie Hall, shot with natural light, is also quick and mobile. Manhattan’s stark black and white, combined with the delicious Gershwin music, evokes a romantic and more classically cinematic tone.
Both films are terrific, funny and moving, as well as profound examinations of adult relationships. Whichever film one prefers, the resonance of both is enhanced by the differences from the other, demonstrating Allen’s great ability to experiment and innovate within his beloved medium.
Annie Hall and Manhattan are available from MGM Home Entertainment.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
The Strawberry Blonde
Starring: James Cagney, Olivia De Havilland, Rita Hayworth, Jack Carson, George Tobias and Alan Hale
****
By Greg Klymkiw
Casey would waltz with a strawberry blond,He was one of the original two-fisted, piss and vinegar Old Hollywood filmmakers - a man's man and then some - and yet, in spite of this reputation and a canon that included sprawling, dusty westerns, brutal gangster dramas and some of the most effective and affecting war propaganda, Raoul Walsh directed one of the most grandly entertaining, politically astute and decidedly progressive romantic comedies of the 1940s, one that placed women's roles and rights in a society controlled by men at the forefront of its narrative and thematic concerns while, at the same time focusing on a very different male figure, a regular guy from the wrong side of the tracks who is drawn to the surface attributes of both beauty and success, but discovers in himself something deeper.
And the Band played on,
He'd glide cross the floor with the girl he ador'd,
and the Band played on,
But his brain was so loaded it nearly exploded,
The poor girl would shake with alarm.
He'd ne'er leave the girl with the strawberry curls,
And the Band played on.
- Chorus, "The Band Played On" by Palmer & Ward, 1895
The Strawberry Blonde is set against the backdrop of a simpler, gentler time in American history - the Gay 1890s - where every Manhattan street corner seemed equipped with a cheerful barbershop quartet crooning away to whomever would listen and when a man's biggest worry was what young lass he'd stroll through the park with on a Sunday afternoon. Life was sweet and an innocence and complacency gripped the towns and cities of America with the promise of new beginnings and sky's-the-limit opportunity.
Biff Grimes (James Cagney) is a working stiff with a dream. He wants to be a dentist. His pal from the old neighbourhood, the amiably smarmy Hugo Barnstead (Jack Carson) wants wealth and power. What they both have their sights on is the flirty, charming, strawberry blonde of the picture's title, Virginia Brush (Rita Hayworth). In all things that SEEM to matter to Biff, Hugo wins and Biff loses, but in the process, Biff learns a few lessons in life when he ends up genuinely falling in love with Virginia's free-thinking, generous suffragette girlfriend Amy Lind (Olivia De Havilland) who has devoted much of her life to the profession of nursing.
On the surface, the movie is a grass-is-NOT-always-greener-on-the-other-side tale of love, friendship and what the true meaning of happiness is, but within the context of a shiny bauble, we get a story that, for its time was AHEAD of its time and in contemporary terms, is a drama for OUR time and frankly, universal enough to be for ALL time.
Walsh was a director imbued with such a strong sense of place and time. Film after film, characters moved through interior and exterior sets, backlots and locations endowed with meticulous attention to detail. Walsh played his characters thoughtfully and carefully, like chess pieces crafted from the ivory of Wooly Mammoth tusks and he moved them on sets as painstakingly rendered as the famed Staunton-crafted wooden boards. There are seldom false moments in a Walsh film and the reason for this is how he blocked his action with only the best actors - making sure that interior and exterior landscapes surrounding them were rooted in WHO they were as characters. To do this required scrupulous attention to every detail and he had the eye of a true Master. (In fact, one of Walsh's eyes was savagely extricated during a car accident when a jackrabbit jumped through an open window as he drove to the In Old Arizona set in the late 1920s. For most of his directing career he only had one eye, but WHAT an EYE!!!)
The Strawberry Blonde is a movie that pulsates with the life of a world that is both magical and real - so much so, that the visuals come close to conjuring actual smells. The spittoon-laden beer halls where Biff and his ne'er-do-well boozing Dad (Alan Hale) wind up in brawl after brawl practically reek with the stench of cheap tobacco smoke and draught-soaked floors. The barber shop where Biff hangs out with his master hair-stylist buddy Nick Pappalas (George Tobias) is so perfectly accoutered with the fixtures and implements of the trade that one's olfactories are gently pummelled with the aroma of pomades, lotions and talcum powder.
The gaslight illuminating the streets at night, the fresh leafy parks, the grocery-market-lined streets, the stuffy, oak-paneled boardrooms and offices of Hugo's construction empire, the gaudy, ornate nouveau-riche mansion Hugo lives in, the warmth of Biff's eventual hearth and home - all are teeming with sounds and sights that embrace all the characters in a world that's as bygone as it is familiar.
And the sounds!
Even in the 40s, this is a movie that delivers a richly layered soundtrack that rivals (if not downright trumps) the over-mixed, over-crowded digital aural blankets so prevalent in contemporary movies - but in glorious, delicious optical mono. And the music! Bands playing, tenors trilling; the movie is blessed with all this in addition to the almost continuous use of vocal and instrumental renderings of Palmer & Ward's insanely popular ditty of the period "The Band Played On" (which was re-popularized after the release of The Strawberry Blonde).
Walsh lays an incredibly rich tapestry before us. It's all that money could buy and then some - not surprising as The Strawberry Blonde was born out of the glory that was Warner Brothers studios. Walsh, began his career as an actor during the silent era and eventually moved into production. He worked as an assistant director to the legendary, groundbreaking D.W. Griffith - the height of Walsh's mentorship under cinema's first true master of cinematic narrative was assisting in the direction and co-editing the immortal Birth of a Nation. In addition to learning the ins and outs of narrative, editing and the use of the frame, Walsh even credited Griffith with his learning everything about techniques of production and production management - all contributors to Walsh's command of the film medium. In spite of this, Walsh was a contract director at the staid Paramount Pictures during the early sound period and his work here was perfunctory at best. However, when he moved to Warner Brothers, he positively exploded.
Walsh was one of those directors who thrived on collaborative relationships with people as brilliant as he was. Never surrounding himself with uninspiring yes-men, he worked in tandem with only the best artists and craftsmen. This aroused a spirit of artistry that was even greater than what he was naturally imbued with. At Warner Brothers, many of his best films were in collaboration with the visionary producer Hal B. Wallis (who would go on to produce Casablanca). Wallis was a showman par excellence and Walsh was a cinematic storyteller of the same order. They were formidable creative collaborators. Add to this that Walsh was always fixated on stories about "the little guy" or regular "Joes" against the backdrop of worlds bigger than they were, he and Wallis made ideal bedfellows - Wallis loved heroes, Walsh loved making all his characters bigger than life (yet in so doing, infusing them with a life force more real and sophisticated than most studio productions).
The Strawberry Blonde excels in this notion of making its little guy a hero. Biff is someone who wants more out of life than what's normally dealt to Joe-Blows, but he doesn't think, even for a second, that it will be handed to him. He works his butt off in matters of both his career and the heart. When he falls big-time for the coquette-ish Virginia, he's briefly afforded a taste of what he thinks would be Heaven-on-Earth, but as the film progresses, she has her sights set on bigger things and she not only breaks his heart, but eventually, her true colours are revealed. She's as exploitative and manipulative as Biff's "friend" Hugo. Virginia and Hugo become a match made in Heaven - or rather, Hell. Biff, on the other hand, is saddled with a fifth wheel in the romantic roundelay - though eventually, Amy offers the sort of love and support he needs - this is no mere infatuation as it was with Virginia, but deep and soulful. Even when Biff is offered a high-paying, high-ranking position with Hugo, he desperately wants to work hard and learn the business and experiences considerable frustration that his only job appears to be reading the morning papers and signing contracts he doesn't understand.
The character of Amy is beautifully rendered and way ahead of both the times of when the movie was made and certainly during the times in which the movie is set. She works as a nurse, and on the first double date twixt herself, Virginia, Biff and Hugo, she shows up adorned in her nurse uniform. Virginia - dolled up in all her finery - scolds Amy, but the fifth-wheel will have none of it. She's proud to be a working woman, a caregiver and intends to go straight to a nightshift at the hospital after a night on the town. She's also surprisingly and delightfully straightforward (modern, if you will) with respect to sexuality and in one of the best scenes in the movie, she shocks a horrified Biff with her modern frankness in matters of amore.
In contrast, Virginia is a gold-digging tease - all talk, no action - and unlike Amy, Virginia's talk is bubbly and empty-headed. Amy displays her own brand of froth, but her sex appeal comes from open-mindedness, intelligence, a keen wit, political savvy and overall, a deep, genuine sense of caring. Virginia chides Amy for being a suffragette, but she's unapologetic - Amy is a firm believer and fighter for the rights of women, but at the same time, she wants to make a place for herself in the world with a man - not as her ruler and/or protector, but in an equal partnership founded in love, mutual respect and making a better life for both of them and those around them.
One of the aspects of this tale that resonates in contemporary terms is the notion of how the rich exploit and deceive the poor. A turn in the tale has overtones of tragedy. Once Biff is duped into joining Hugo's company, he becomes the fall guy in an illegal development scam. Even here, though, Walsh focuses on the indomitability of the working guy and we see strife metamorphosize into strength and Biff's character is deepened in his resolve to get free of the shackles imposed upon him by the dishonesty and thievery of the "ruling" class.
All of this is played by an astounding all-star cast. As Cagney proved time and time again, he was more than just a movie tough guy. Certainly in Footlight Parade and Yankee Doodle Dandy, he was a spectacular song and dance man and here, he's a terrific, (though pugnacious) romantic leading man with a great sense of humour. Olivia De Havilland offers up a snappy, sexy leading lady, far removed from the whiny, helpless, long-suffering Melanie Wilkes in Gone With the Wind. Rita Hayworth is her super-sexy self, while Jack Carson, George Tobias and Alan Hale lend the sort of magnificent support as character actors that the Warners stable always offered up.
Not only was Walsh endowed with an eye to championing the rights of the impoverished (or, in the cases of some, at least understanding when impoverishment led to socially deviant behaviour), but he was, thanks to producer Wallis, given magnificent material to work with. Based on a popular play, this was the second of three screen versions of this tale. Its screenplay was provided by the brilliant Epstein twins, Julius and Phillip (Daughters Courageous, Four Wives, The Man Who Came To Dinner, Casablanca) and with the outstanding Raoul Walsh at the helm, Strawberry Blonde is a truly delightful and intelligent romantic comedy - one for the ages and beyond.
"Strawberry Blonde" is available through the on-demand Warner Archives. Better video retailers (like Toronto's Sunrise Records at Yonge and Dundas and My Movie Store at Dundas and Tomken) will also carry it.
Other great Raoul Walsh pictures that MUST NOT BE MISSED ARE:
White Heat, The Roaring Twenties, Objective, Burma!, High Sierra, Pursued, They Died with Their Boots On, They Drive by Night, Manpower and Gentleman Jim.
Friday, 6 January 2012
Design For Living
Starring: Gary Cooper, Frederic Marsh, Miriam Hopkins, Edward Everett Horton
****
By Alan Bacchus
Tom Chambers (Marsh) is a playwright, George Curtis (Cooper) is an artist, and in between these two libidinous best friends is Gilda Farrell (Hopkins), the third angle of a unique love triangle, which in the pre-code era resulted in a coy spin on our preconceived notions of male-female sexual relations.
The Criterion Collection has appropriately dug out this delicious farce directed by the master of romantic-sexual comedies, Ernst Lubitsch (Trouble in Paradise, Ninotochka), and written by the master of British wit, poise and the complexity of relationships, Noel Coward. What a team!
It’s so refreshing to watch how quickly these older movies get to the point. The opening scene features Gilda getting into a train car to Paris occupied by Tom and George. Both are sleeping against each other. A carefully framed close-up of Cooper’s hand on Marsh's might even suggest a homosexual relationship. They aren’t gay, but their proximity foreshadows just how closely they will be linked. There’s clearly an attraction between all three. Once in Paris, Gilda engages in a sexual relationship with both of them (separately).
When they find out that both of them have tasted the fruit of her loins, in order to save their friendship Gilda proposes they make a ‘Gentlemen’s Agreement’ to become platonic friends, professional colleagues critiquing each other’s work, but never sleeping with each other. These best laid plans go awry when, while Chambers is making it big in London, George genuinely falls for Gilda and starts up a real relationship with her. Of course, the tables switch again when Tom sleeps with Gilda after returning from London. The wildcard, which eventually causes the biggest rift, is Max Plunkett (Horton), a long-time admirer of Gilda, who manages to weasel in between the friends and steal her away. It would then take a full reconciliation of Tom and George and some social savvy to save Gilda from a dull marriage to the drab advertising man Plunkett.
As we all know, some of the sharpest and delightfully salacious sex comedies came from the pre-code, that is the brief time in the talking picture era when Hollywood could do whatever they wanted on screen – before the Hays Code (and then the Breen Code) spelled out in detail what was ‘acceptable’ to show on screen. That said, these pre-code films still exercised restraint and subtlety with their bawdy material. The word sex is mentioned on a couple of occasions in this picture, a word which immediately makes us turn our heads, especially coming out of the mouth of Miriam Hopkins, but everything is between the lines.
Gilda’s liberated view of sex can be seen as a pre-dated feminist ideal. It would be years before we would see a woman take control of and be frank about her sexual predilections. In Design For Living this comes in the form of the film’s best scene, the moment when Gilda confesses to both men that she has no problem sleeping with both of them. For the most part Gilda has this power through the film. I wonder if the Farrelly Brothers had seen Design For Living before making There’s Something About Mary, arguably an updated and grossly exaggerated version of the male obsession with women.
Coward provides a delightful witty and light tone for most of the film, but things get the most interesting when the film finds a very serious tone in the second half. While the sexual games make for fun repartee, we gradually start to feel the emotional weight of their mutual attraction to Gilda. Frederic Marsh has a great scene in which we see him break down when he discovers that George has broken the agreement and courted Gilda in his absence. The weight of Gilda’s forlorn love and the betrayal from his best friend is simply too much.
And for a film made in 1932 we’re also treated to a beautifully art decorated picture full of wondrous gothic/art deco imagery and pristine compositions and camera movement proving Lubistch’s mastery of the art form. In addition to the beautiful high definition imagery, one of the treasures of the disc is Lubitsch’s short film Clerk starring Charles Laughton, one part of the omnibus film If I Had a Million. Lubitsch’s superlative images and delirious visual techniques are a pure cinematic delight, all showcased in a matter of minutes.
Design For Living is available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Crazy, Stupid, Love
Starring: Steve Carell, Ryan Gosling, Julianne Moore, Marisa Tomei, Emma Stone
***1/2
By Alan Bacchus
Oh, how refreshing it is to be surprised by a Hollywood studio genre picture these days - a film about love, which doesn't need to play into the familiar overplayed romantic comedy template overpopulated by 15-year-old Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts movies or new millennium Richard Curtis dreck.
You probably know the story by now. Steve Carell plays an emasculated husband who's just found out his wife has been cheating on him. Now separated, he finds himself on the market, back on the dating scene. Ryan Gosling, a handsome playboy/barfly takes Carell under his wing for a male makeover of sorts, bringing out Carell's own inner pick-up artist.
Ficarra and Requa's film is filled with well rounded and interesting characters beyond the star casting of Steve Carell and Ryan Gosling. At its heart, the film tracks the experiences of love for a 13-year-boy infatuated with his babysitter, the babysitter who is infatuated with the kid's father, the father who is still infatuated with his wife, his wife who is no longer infatuated with him and Ryan Gosling's game-changing head-over-heels infatuation with a recently-dumped woman. Other lesser ensemble romantic films like Valentine's Day and He's Not That Into You have tried this revolving door approach, but none of them work better than this.
While other rom-coms revel in the plight of the protagonists, here Steve Carell's pathetic geek chic character, which is well used in roles from Date Night to The 40 Year Old Virgin, gets well tarnished in this film. He gets it in one of the best scenes in the film during a parent-teacher meeting with his ex-wife, as his son’s teacher happens to be the woman he slept with. Marisa Tomei, Moore and Carell create a marvellous scene which is both comedic and emotionally moving.
This scene is indicative of the intelligence of this film, playing each character with shades of grey and mixing broad comedy with edgy raunchiness and earnest life lessons. Everyone makes mistakes in this film in the name of love. It’s a difficult, nebulous fog to navigate through and with comedy and pathos the filmmakers find the right mix to make us laugh and move us to new places.
A heavy dose of strong cinematic style helps as well, bringing to mind the eccentric flourishes of John Hughes in his heyday. Crazy Stupid Love is one of the most satisfying studio commercial films this year.
Crazy Stupid Love is available on Blu-ray from Warner Home Entertainment.
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Something Borrowed
Starring: Ginnifer Goodwin, Kate Hudson, Colin Egglesfield, John Krasinski, Steve Howey, Ashley Williams
*½
By Alan Bacchus
Laziness and complacency in screenwriting were never more apparent than in the latest Ginnifer Goodwin romcom. A potent internal conundrum of conflict for Goodwin’s character is wasted with dumbed down characterizations, diffusing the film of all substance.
Writer Jennie Snyder, adapting Emily Griffin’s novel, has an audacious conundrum for her main character. Rachel (Goodwin), an underachiever in the romance department, has been in love with her law school buddy, Dex (Egglesfield), for years. Unfortunately, her sexually adventurous bombshell of a best friend, Darcy (Hudson), already scooped him up years ago. Now they’re set to be married with Rachel as the maid of honour. But when some kind of romantic spark randomly hits Rachel and Dex after her birthday party, they sleep together, thus bringing to the fore years of suppressed desires and many complications.
While there's a romance going on between two souls seemingly destined to be together, at odds with these desires is a strong lifelong friendship – a relationship that goes back much longer than the romance. This is the stuff of great drama.
Like the indecisiveness of Hamlet, Rachel continues to see Dex, undercover of Darcy, and though she knows she has to tell her friend, she just can’t do it. It’s the same with Dex, who reciprocates all romantic signals but just can’t decide between Darcy and Rachel.
The guts of this situation are that it’s a zero-sum game. Rachel can’t get Dex without losing Darcy, and if she keeps Darcy’s friendship, she can’t be with Dex. Unfortunately, Rachel and the audience are immediately let off the hook from her indiscretion by Darcy’s cardboard characterization as a self-centred, shallow bitch, who cares little for Rachel’s needs. We quickly learn that despite 20+ years of friendship, Darcy is a terrible friend, unworthy of Rachel.
By portraying Darcy with such disdain, there’s no real decision for Rachel to make. The situation is no longer a zero-sum game. The choice is obvious, thus robbing the audience of Rachel’s internal conflict. And without any sense of realism or colour, Hudson simply becomes set dressing.
I understand why she was written this way. It’s easier, plain and simple. Writing Darcy as a cliché antagonist bitch is like putting together Ikea furniture. Even on Dex’s side, his parents are portrayed as money grubbing stuck-up assholes who tell their son not to do what’s right, but what’s expected.
Perhaps the biggest insult goes to John Krasinski’s character, who represents the ‘Ducky’ (from Pretty in Pink) character. He’s the barely-straight best friend who has loved Rachel all along but has never expressed his feelings. In the end, when he confesses his secret crush to Rachel, he’s so easily dismissed and discarded by Rachel. The moment is meant to get Rachel to finally make her decision and tell Darcy the truth about her feelings. But instead, it represents the tragic irony of this movie – opportunities lost with lazy screenwriting.
Something Borrowed is available on Blu-ray and DVD from Warner Home Entertainment.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Smiles of a Summer Night
Smiles of a Summer Night (1955) dir. Ingmar Bergman
Starring: Eva Dahlbeck, Gunnar Bjornstrand, Ulla Jacobson, Gunnar Bjornstrand, Harriet Andersson, Margit Cariqvist
****
By Greg Klymkiw
“A romantic comedy by Ingmar Bergman”
So proclaim the opening titles announcing the great artist’s authorship of the magnificent movie, Smiles of a Summer Night. For those who know the Master for his trilogy of despair and agnosticism (Through a Glass Darkly, Winter Light, The Silence) or his wrenching portrayal of cancer amidst the most harrowing of sibling rivalries in screen history (Cries and Whispers) or the strange autobiography-dolloped, borderline Grand Guignol Grimm-like fairytale and Strindbergian domestic drama Fanny and Alexander, et al, the notion of a romantic comedy by Ingmar Bergman might well strike some as an oxymoron.
It makes perfect sense, though. Bergman’s picture might not seem like the bauble usually associated with the genre of romantic comedy, but it blends all the requisite tropes of the form and does so with a haunting melancholy that places it squarely at the top of the heap. While an early work from Bergman, it displays the assuredness, skill, artistry, sensitivity and poetry of a Master. It is a true delight that is as funny, frothy and entertaining as it is deeply and profoundly moving. In fact, my recent screenings of the picture on the delicious new Criterion Collection Blu-ray release might force my hand to elevate the movie to my personal Bergman favourite.
First and foremost, it presents Bergman’s unflagging talent for creating complex and compelling characters of the female persuasion. His touch for this rivalled, if not exceeded that of such distinguished fellows as Carl Dreyer (Passion of Joan of Arc) and Yasujiro Ozu (Tokyo Story). Against the backdrop of early 20th century Sweden, a man’s world – as it were – we see a delightful tale unfold in which the women have the clear upper hand in their brilliant manipulations of all the dull-witted gentlemen, especially in matters of the heart (and, if truth be told, mind).
Bergman serves up a delicious stew of characters – all involved in various infidelities, yet looking for the one true love to infuse their lives with exclusive devotion. Fredrik Egerman (a shockingly funny Gunnar Bjornstrand) is a dull, middle aged, meticulously manicured lawyer who is married to the pert, nineteen-year-old sex kitten Anne (Ulla Jacobsson). He seems to have it all – except his new near-child bride who is still a virgin. The marriage has not been consummated due to Anne requiring some easing-in time. Fredrik waits ever-so patiently to dip his needy Nordic wick into his comely wifelet's burgeoning fleur de volets humide de la viande.
Complicating matters is the presence of his dour son Henrik (Bjorn Bjelvenstam), fresh from the seminary and on the verge of taking his oath of chastity. Henrik is constantly the target of the household’s sexy maid Petra (Harriet Andersson) who seeks to corrupt his aching appendage. At the same time, the son who clings to his virtue is madly in love with his Dad’s young bride. Henrik is torn between carnal lust, true love and devotion to God. Dad, of course, can see the attraction between his son and wife and knows he must act fast to make Anne all his before Sonny Jim manages to slide in his Swedish schwance and burst the hymen he longs to perforate.
Fredrik enlists the services of his former lover, the staggeringly gorgeous and popular stage actress Desiree Armfelt (the uber-radiant Eva Dahlbeck) to assist him with deflowering his bride. Desiree has always had a soft spot for Fredrik and agrees to take the mission, but is armed with a secret plan to get back her beloved Fredrik.
To further complicate matters, Desiree is having an ongoing dalliance with the married military man Carl-Magnus Malcolm (Jari Kulle). Malcolm’s wife Charlotte (Margit Carlqvist) is aware of her hubby’s infidelities – even engaging in open discussions with him about them. She wants her incorrigible hubby exclusively to herself and teams up with Desiree to make this a reality. Two scorned women are a veritable army of love.
The rest of the comedy takes place on the estate of Desiree’s mother Mrs. Armfeldt (Naima Wilfstrand) who agrees to set the stage for a magnificent coup de l’amour. Fredrik, his wife and son, Carl-Magnus and Charlotte and even the Egerman housemistress Petra are all invited for a weekend frolic on the grounds of the majestic sun-dappled Armfeldt manor in the country.
Here, the magic of love must, during a summer night, work overtime to bring the right combinations together. According to the Armfeldt groom Frid (Ake Fridell), the summer night is endowed with three smiles. The first is when young lovers open their hearts and loins – this, is when true love occurs. The second smile is reserved for jesters and fools – when love strikes those unable to truly experience love – where the mask of seeming mirth and/or ignorance provides a solace that is fleeting, ephemeral and ultimately intangible. As the dawn begins to peek from the out of the horizon, the final smile of night is reserved for the rest – the sad and dejected, the sleepless, the lost souls, the frightened and the lonely.
This is the love that the majority of humanity must settle for.
And this is the Bergman we’ve come to know and love – a man who investigates humanity with an eye of unwavering truth, melancholy and raw emotion.
Smiles of a Summer Night is an astonishingly universal work and has as much relevance to the present, and no doubt the future, as it did upon first release. It wasn’t the first romantic comedy Bergman made – he’d dabbled in it a few times prior to 1955, but those works, while modestly entertaining, are slight in terms of their ambition and I suspect work less successfully because of their contemporary settings.
The turn of the 19th to 20th century seems an ideal context to present a tale for all times. I will always recall Norman Jewison discussing his use of the diaphanous, near Ancient-Roman costuming of the female characters in Rollerball in order to present his sci-fi future in a futuristic world that would not seem dated. And Damn, Uncle Norman succeeded in spite of the male characters’ 70s sideburns – because of this introduction of elements of the past. The past makes all that is old new again.
There, I’ve finally done it. I’ve mentioned Rollerball in a review of an Ingmar Bergman movie. But bear with me – it makes sense. I’ve often found that rooting about in the past (or elements of it) allowed for an excellent looking glass into our own time and, by extension, the future. With Smiles of a Summer Night, Bergman’s use of an earlier age is what contributes to his ability to oddly contemporize, if not outright universalize this comic tale of love, infidelity and the power of female sexuality.
It is, of course, the wits and wiles of Woman that Bergman places his faith and trust. It is Desiree who notes that men “never know what’s best for them” and how women must “set them on the right track”. What, however, is the right track? Since pure, unbridled love – according to Bergman – can only be celebrated by the very few, then it stands to reason that the rest are the deluded, the pawns of the summer night and the smiles of Heaven, or, if you will, fate. This is what has the final word over all who populate the Earth – that power which can never truly be wrested away from the force of nature itself.
Bergman is, however, a formidable force of nature, of art, of the magic of cinema. His deft handling of this gorgeous, moving and funny romantic comedy is exquisite. Often, Bergman will settle his camera on a lovely eye-level medium composition – one that rivals and ultimately bests Howard Hawks, the master of 20th century romantic comedy himself.
A sequence that is perhaps the single greatest example of the genre in terms of writing and staging involves Fredrik, Desiree and Carl-Magnus – wherein our unlikely romantic hero, the dullard man of law declares, “A gentleman doesn’t face his rival deprived of his trousers.” Here, Bergman presents a long series of magnificent frames with very few cuts and where the actors deliver rapid-fire verbal exchanges within a fixed point of perspective. Upon the unexpected arrival of Carl-Magnus who has a mere 20-hour leave from military duty (6 hours for travel to and from, 9 hours with his mistress and 5 hours with his wife), a terrified Fredrik opines to Desiree: “Perhaps I could hide.” Her response: “We are not on a stage, dearest Fredrik.” In reality, it is not a stage of the theatre, but it is certainly a stage of life wrought by the Master that is Ingmar Bergman.
Fredrik sums it all up: “But this is still a damned farce”.
And so it is – a farce a la Bergman.
The sequence features several lengthy two-handers and three-handers – often lasting a full two minutes or longer where there are no cuts. In spite of this, the screen is awash in action and movement – pure cinematic expression.
Not only is Smiles of a Summer Night a perfect example of Bergman’s mastery of cinematic language from the perspective of camera but also his screenplay is complete and utter perfection as he juggles and finally fits together the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that is love. A great sequence involves our near-child bride Anne as she restlessly moves from room to room in Fredrik’s home – desperately searching for something to do and meeting both resistance and failure to make something, anything out of her daily existence until finally, sadly and with profound humanity, she settles in a room with her beloved budgies – beautiful, delicate, twittering creatures that, under her gaze, continue to live and breathe inside a cage. What might have been heavy handed symbolism in the hands of virtually every screenwriter or director is rendered fresh and moving in the hands, pen and eyes of Bergman.
Smiles of a Summer Night might well be the greatest of all romantic comedies – a pinnacle ascended at the half-century mark of cinema’s history and one that has never and will likely never be reached again.
At the halfway point of this truly majestic work, Desiree’s mother, invalided in her bed, but replete with all the experience that life has offered and that she has taken willingly, openly and greedily, looks to her daughter from a heartbreakingly, breathtakingly gorgeous long shot and says – to both her daughter’s POV and, by extension to us and the world:
“I am tired of people, but it doesn’t stop me from loving them.”
Bergman has delivered perfection.
He has delivered love the way only the medium of cinema can.
He loves his characters, he loves humanity and he loves us.
This is what greatness is.
This is art.
Smiles of a Summer Night is available on Blu-ray via the Criterion Collection in a gorgeous high definition transfer with a fine selection of extra features.
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Love and Other Drugs
Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Anne Hathaway, Oliver Platt, Hank Azaria, Josh Gad
**1/2
By Alan Bacchus
The problem with most of Ed Zwick’s films is the disconnect between the need to tell an important story about issues, whether they’re political, social or otherwise, and the disposability of the genre conventions in which he operates. It never seems to work. For example, Blood Diamond, his film about the diamond trade in Africa, lost its credibility due to the numerous explosions, gunfire and action movie peril in which Leonardo Di Caprio’s character found himself.
Based on the trailers and advertising campaign for Love and Other Drugs, it appeared that we were headed for the tried and tested romantic comedy genre featuring two of Hollywood’s hot young and viral actors. Yet midway through this picture following a second act that consists of one fleshy sex scene after another, we’re bombarded with Zwick’s issue-du-jour.
However, the surprise is that it almost works. Jamie Randall (Gyllenhaal) is a new drug rep for Pfizer, and his job entails travelling to doctors’ offices to pitch his wares. He’s the ideal person for the job. He’s handsome, gregarious and someone who treats ‘picking up’ women like a science. Indeed, Jamie swoons and beds as many secretaries as he can in order to get his products on the shelves. When he meets Maggie Murdoch (Hathaway), he’s immediately attracted to her whip-smart confident ways – and the breast she pops out of her bra while on the doctor’s table.
They strike up a quick physical love affair, banging just about anywhere they can. Surprisingly though, she’s the one who wants no strings attached. The more time they spend together the more Jamie’s lustre wears off, which reveals his deep connection with Maggie. A life-changing disease gradually enters the fray, and that threatens any kind of permanent bliss James desires. When the passion wears off the pair are forced to deal with the dead serious realities of life and forecast the type of relationship they would have given Maggie’s debilitating predicament.
Maggie’s illness is treated carefully and respectfully. We never really get a bombshell dropped on us, which Zwick could have used to jerk us around. We know from the first meeting with Maggie that she has Parkinson’s, but it’s such a flippant comment that we barely even take her seriously. In fact, I questioned whether she was lying in order to get her hands on some drugs. This misdirect doesn’t quite work, but it’s an admirable attempt to respect the disease.
The film feels like two halves – one fun and wistful and the other sobering and reflective. The picture might have been aided be a permanent switch in tone from one to the other. But where it falls off the rails is the incorporation of romantic comedy tropes once the story is on the trajectory of doom. The lightness in tone and the rom-com chase finale, which is to be expected in this genre, never quite feel right.
It’s a difficult corner for Zwick to back himself into. Part of the story is a powerful existential drama about a man and woman dealing with the eventual dissolve of one’s mental capacity. But of course, this betrays the expectations of the rom-com genre, which could be like the black plague at the box office. There was a chance for Zwick to shatter the notion of the disposability of romantic comedies by force-feeding us a dose of real life to his characters. But the mix of comedy, romance and heavy drama doesn’t quite congeal.
Love and Other Drugs is available on Blu-ray from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
Moonstruck
Starring: Cher, Nicolas Cage, Danny Aiello, Olympia Dukakis, Vincent Gardenia, John Mahoney
***1/2
By Alan Bacchus
It’s hard to imagine this film, so fluffy and light as air Italian-American romcom being the 6th highest grossing film of it’s year 1987. It was a huge hit. Then again, back in 1987 Cher was hot, Julia Roberts hot.
Moonstruck hits some of the same cultural buttons as My Big Fat Greek Wedding. A film set exclusively in the culture of NYC Italian-Americans, yet is so familiar to other second generation immigrants in other cities and countries around the world.
For Loretta Castorini (Cher), she’s so identifiable and sympathetic as a hero. She’s in her mid 30’s, widowed early in her marriage, but years later still unable to find a guy, or at least have a decent guy propose to her. Along comes Johnny Cammareri (Danny Aiello), who seems to have his head on straight, Italian, grounded, with a decent job. But there just seems to be a spark missing. Loretta doesn’t mind, she’s pragmatic enough to know being married is better than living at home with her nagging parents.
The rub here is Johnny’s mother, whom he is completely submissive and beholden to. He can only marry Loretta when mom is dead, presumably after a trip to Sicily to say goodbye at her death bed. While away Loretta, in planning the wedding, meets the real love in her life, Johnny’s loose cannon brother Ronny (Nicolas Cage), an emotional spark plug if there ever was one. While this torrid affairs blossoms, so does two others, involves Loretta’s mother and father, all three of whom seem to be appeasing their own urges toward martial impropriety but in search of a different kind love.
While John Patrick Shanley’s script sings delightfully, as directed by Norman Jewison and acted with aplumb by his perfectly cast actors, the film elevates to dramatic heights of an Italian opera. In the first act, Jewison plays the drama with realism, setting up Loretta’s predicament naturally. We can easily see these characters in our own kitchen, bickering and squabbling. In the second act, with the introduction of Ronny, Jewison cranks up the melodrama. The introduction of Ronny alone, is drawn out to the maximum. Ronny is first seen in a sweaty wife-beater, shovelling red hot coals into a iron furnace which bakes the bread for the family business.
His first meeting with Loretta is a hailstorm of conflict, and dramatic flare – a hyper-emotional performance from Nicolas Cage full of all the histrionics which would define his unique career. And even though they’ve just met, we can easily see how they could fall in love instantly.
Loretta’s no pushover though, and she represents as much the foil as the match for Ronny. This is the stuff of best romantic comedies. Their passion fuels the second act wherein Jewison executes a number of wonderfully romantic moments, including the central opera set piece as well as Cher’s famous morning stroll through the street kicking the can across the road like young teenager with her first crush.
The potential infidelities and temptations exercised by Loretta’s mother and father in the b-story serve as a perfect counterbalance to the whimsical romance in story-A. Specifically Rose, Loretta’s mom, played by Olympia Dukakis. In her meeting with John Mahoney’s character, she moves on a similar path to Loretta, but with the years of experience she is able to look at the relationship with a more objective viewpoint. Under Jewison’s direction of these two fine performances he brings forth a different kind of uncomsumated romance.
Moonstruck deservedly won Oscars for Cher, Dukakis, and Shanley and is now available on Blu-Ray from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment.
Thursday, 24 February 2011
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger
Starring: Naomi Watts, Josh Brolin, Gemma Jones, Anthony Hopkins, Freida Pinto, Antonio Banderas
**1/2
By Alan Bacchus
There’s nothing to really dislike about this picture, but the fact it’s Woody Allen and another film in a mostly continuous string of forgettable features in the past 15 years or so, it's a mostly frustrating film to watch.
If Woody Allen’s name weren’t on this picture, I might have thought this was an extended episode of some HBO television show. Certainly nothing big screen worthy or even remotely comparable to his body of work in the 70’s and 80’s.
Woody’s warring couple in this one is Sally and Roy Channing. Sally (Watts) an underachieving art curator who’s recent got her foot in the door getting coffee and lunch for an esteemed Museum director (Banderas), Roy (Brolin), her hubby, is a self-centred failed author who desperately needs his latest book to find a publisher. There’s also Sally’s mother and father Helena (Jones)and Alfie (Hopkins), recently separately and both silently competing with the each other to move on with their lives.
As the title suggests, each of the characters will find new love, which will test the inner moral fortitude of each of the characters. For Roy, he becomes smitten with a young gal living in an adjacent building, Sally is tempted by the flirtations of her boss, Alfie starts dating a prostitute after showering her with lavish gifts and poor Helena, jealous of Alfie’s arm candy, finds the most promising love affair after drowning her sorrows in the false hope of a fortune teller.
This is a phoned-in film, Woody fails to truly put his characters through the ringer like he did in his far and away best picture in 15 years, Match Point, wherein Allen puts Jonathan Rhys-Meyers through excrutiatingly painful journey of love, sex and murder, Roy and Alfie only receive a light dusting.
It’s the usual whimsical tone of Allen here, dramatic conflict and humour in equal amounts, but light as air, and ultimately unexceptional and unmemorable. The best character is Roy, played with delight by Josh Brolin, who proves he can do just about anything right now. He’s a classic Allen character, egotistical but wholly juvenile and subject to the whims of his libido. His career trajectory provides a rather fun punchline to his shameless actions against his poor and suffering wife – a devious black comedic moment which reminds us of the only inspired moment of the past 15 years of Woody, the treachery of Rhys-Meyers in Match Point. If Woody mined the drama and suspense from Roy’s final moment he could have had a movie on par with Match Point.
You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Going the Distance
Starring: Drew Barrymore, Justin Long, Jason Sudekis, Charlie Day, Christina Applegate
**1/2
By Alan Bacchus
The long distance relationship is the hook of this romantic comedy, which moderately succeeds as a vehicle for then real life BF/GF Drew Barrymore and Justin Long. These supremely engaging and accessible leads are perfectly cast as boyfriend and girlfriend stuck on two different coasts trying to maintain some semblance of a relationship.
Garrett (Long) is a NY record exec and Erin (Barrymore) is an aspiring writer finishing an internship also living in New York. After Garrett gets dumped he meets Erin, hits it off, sleeps with her then debriefs and debates the activities with his uber-male roommates played by Charlie Day and Jason Sudekis. Unfortunately Erin is due to go to University on the West Coast. All signs lead to a doomed relationship, and despite their misgivings about continuing their relationship they are simply in love.
Visits every few months are momentary fits of bliss, but invariably temptation creeps in for both lovers and they soon finding themselves fighting to maintain their relationship against the odds of the 3000miles between them.
I can certainly sympathize with the frustration doing the ‘long distance thing', and the writer and director never strays from this core conundrum. Director Burnstein (a solid documentary director, now branching out into drama) adequately conveys the conflict between the emotional needs of her characters to be together and their mutal stubborness (and fear) of sacrificing their careers for a relationship. It’s a fundamental choice most of us continually face in our lives everyday, and this connection is not lost on us.
It’s refreshing to see actors like Justin Long in lead roles such as this. He’s extremely funny, but in a droll, relaxed way. His humour is understatated and doesn’t overwhelm the drama of the situations. He’s also a normal looking, relatable guy. As opposed to older beefcakes like Gerard Butler, or Matthew McConaughey who exist in some other kind of fantasy world of Hollywood stardom.
For good and bad, the film fits snugly into the rom-com template. The supporting characters act like the angel and devil both the shoulders of Garrett and Erin. SNL alum Jason Sudekis and Charlie Day are passably funny, but overwritten, over playing their comic relief roles too much. The wonderful Jim Gaffigan, on the other hand, is marvelous in his brief role as Erin’s emasculated brother-in-the-law. Christina Applegate’s comic chops serve the film well as Erin’s sister who’s by-the-numbers passionless marriage acts as a red flag for Erin to truely take the plunge with Garrett.
Missing is a memorable and creative finale (warning, some spoilers ahead...) After the lovers agree to call it off, we know they will eventually get back together, but it's dramatized in the denouement, like an added on scene at the end to provide closure. The actions of the characters which lead to their reunification happens off screen and over the course of a year long flash-forward when Garrett finds the impetus to leave his soul sucking job and move to San Francisco. And so at the end Garrett just ‘shows up’ like magic.
Going the Distance makes a decent Sunday rental when you’re hungover from a heavy night of drinking with the girlfriend and his or her girlfriend pals.
“Going the Distance” is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Warner Home Entertainment.
Saturday, 13 November 2010
Sex and the City 2: The Legend of Curly's Gold
Starrin:g Sarah Jessica Parker, Chris Noth, Kim Cattrall and Father Time
*1/2
By Blair Stewart
I recall watching the first "Sex and the City" movie in a half-empty gravel courtyard on a ratty screen showing a used 35mm print along the shores of the Adriatic. Slouched in a plastic lawn chair, drunk on Karlovačko with the heavens above me and a fine lady by my side, my eyes occasionally glanced at the on-screen circus before I would drift back to the Milky Way's brushstroke and Orion's belt above.
The film, as they say, was not my cup of tea.
Move forward several years and despite the advances in digital film presentation the theater I was in couldn't project a clear Croatian night-time sky along the ceiling as I watched "Sex and the City 2". If only, if only.
Picking up two years after their successful heist of the Lindbergh baby (as I seem to recall), Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) and her gang of upper-lower-eastside-westside Manhattanite B.F.F.'s Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha (Cynthia Nixon y Kristen Davis und Kim Cattrall) from the HBO show team up to whinge about their frenzied relationships, workplaces and the lousy Mexican/Korean/Puerto Rican help raising their kids. As Carrie grows distant from the hairdresser's dummy that is her husband (Chris Noth cruising along in 2nd gear and squinting to read the cue cards just off of the 'A' camera sightlines) she joins her gals in a runaway trip to Abu Dhabi to shop passionately and talk about penises. Cue that Alicia Keys song about 'Newwwww Yorkkkkkk' to highlights scenes of 'life lessons' and 'friendship' with all the subtlety of clanging death.
Sadly the film was released over a year after the 'global downturn', therefore making "SATC2" as out-of-touch with the mainstream line as Norman Mailer hanging out with 1978 gutter punks at Max's Kansas City for a Ramones gig. "Sex and the City" once mattered when the audience could still pay their bills, now it just seems wasteful. Regardless of reality our plucky gals still buy the fancy shoes and make awful puns, like the traumatic moment when Cattrall cracks the line of "Lawrence of my labia" and I had to leave the theater due to the whooshing sound of my deflating genitals. Exacerbating the patchwork script is Michael Patrick King's episodic direction-lots of reaction shots, lots of montages, lots more sound and fury. I'd bitch some more but I'm tired of swinging a crowbar at this corpse and I can tell from the confidences of a few "SATC" fans that this is a watered-down version of the original they once loved.
Only in two moments could I understand the initial draw of the TV series from the results on film; in the scene where Charlotte and Miranda speak frankly of the anxieties in raising children as career women, and in the later stages when the girls are clued-in to the hypocritical nature of a decadant modern Middle East where women are kept invisible. A little more sharp writing as the motherhood scene attests, a little less Liza Minnelli-singing-at-a-gay-wedding cliches, and perhaps "SATC2" would have dragged itself out of the used clothes bin.
My gal also wanted me to tell you I liked this film more than the above review claims, but she's just a catty, lying slut.
Meeeeeooooooooooowwwwwww.
Sex and the City 2 is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Warner Home Video
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
What's Up Doc?
Starring: Barbra Streisand, Ryan O'Neal, Madeline Kahn, Austin Pendleton, Kenneth Mars, Michael Murphy, Sorrell Booke, Stefan Gierasch, John Hillerman, Randy Quaid, M. Emmet Walsh and Liam Dunn
***1/2
By Greg Klymkiw
If anyone on a silver screen was virtually indistinguishable from a whirling dervish, that ancient and most holy of all spiritual dancers, there's no doubt that few will ever come close to Barbra Streisand in Peter Bogdanovich's classic screwball comedy What's Up Doc? - a terrific picture that is as much an homage to a bygone genre as it is the thing itself - so gloriously re-invented for a contemporary audience (in the 70s), yet as fresh today as it was then.
Playing the irrepressible poor little rich girl who makes life so beautifully miserable for Ryan O'Neal's befuddled musicology professor Howard Bannister, Babs explodes on screen like Fanny Brice channeled through the splicing together of genes from Carole Lombard and Jean Arthur. With her floppy, oversized checkered Armand of Beverly Hills newsboy cap resting comfortably over her gorgeous strawberry blonde tresses, her moist full lips at their most luscious, her exquisite profile at its most stunningly aquiline, her winning smile never more sparkling, her kookiness never more insanely, deliciously skewed and her dancing eyes drawing you in with some kind of berserk "fuck me immediately" magnetism, La Streisand commands our attention from entrance to exit.
And like the aforementioned whirling dervish, she exists on a plane somewhere between Heaven and Earth, spinning full tilt to a precise rhythm that places both herelf and the viewer in a trance.
This is what makes a star! Pure and simple. She's Streisand all the way! But like all true stars, she outshines her persona to deliver the ultimate dramatic/comedic roundhouse smack - and then some!
With a terrific screenplay from David Newman, Robert Benton and Buck Henry (based upon a story by helmer Bogdanovich), she melds her stunning personality, almost superhuman photogenic qualities and seldom-parallelled thespian talents to bring to life one of the great female roles in the movies. As Judy Maxwell, perennial ivy league student and con artist extraordinaire, she's on the run from responsibility and Daddy and immediately sets her sights on winning the heart of one bespectacled Bannister, a cutie-pie geek academic in a perpetual fog who is attending a convention of fellow musicology eggheads at a gathering that could surely only exist in the movies.
On the surface, Judy seeks escape, but deep down, all she wants is the love of a man who needs her more desperately than he can bear to admit. And Bannister has a lot of things he can bear admitting. His number one problem is securing foundation financing to continue his studies of the prehistoric rocks that he believes are the first musical instruments. (In fact, he pathologically carries his rocks in a red plaid satchel and can hardly bear the thought of parting with them.) These, however, are rocks he's happy to be saddled with. His equally serious problem is the dead weight clutching grotesquely at his side, a most burdensome rock - a ball and chain, if you will. His fiance is Eunice Burns (Madeline Kahn in her outrageous movie debut), and boy does Eunice burn - not unlike the hellfire spawn of Satan. She is a harridan of the most loathsome kind - needy, grasping, domineering - the penultimate teratism of womanhood, a screeching monstrosity who's going to bring her man so far down the career ladder, that he'll be lucky to teach accordion in a strip mall or better, to take an eventual hot bath with a Schick razor to plunge in his veins.
Judy will have none of it, but she will have ALL of Bannister. Streisand's performance is so riveting that it's impossible to avert one's eyes from her hawk-like gaze. She targets her wants and needs with diamond-sharp precision. Again, this is what makes a star. Streisand's actions speak louder than words - she's a huntress with a mission straight from her heart and she pulls out all the stops - no matter what obstacles are flung in her direction, she charges over them with verve, courage and smarts. And let it be said that part of her actions ARE her words. Never have such zingers torn out of a contemporary character's voicebox. It's astounding to watch Streisand, to study her every move - eyes first, brain next, then action! Babs has rendered a lot of great work, but I daresay none of it (and it's all mostly wonderful) holds a candle to her work here.
Judy harries and harasses poor Bannister until he's putty in her hands, but instead of arsenic, she traps her quarry with honey. She brilliantly and deftly takes Eunice's place at the convention and dazzles the powers-that-be until they're on the verge of signing Bannister a blank cheque for his rock studies. There are, however, even more complications to contend with - Judy wins many battles, but she has her work cut out for her in order to successfully win the war.
And let it be said now, Streisand commands this picture like Patton, but in addition to the laugh-out-loud-funny script, director Peter Bogdanovich masterfully captures this screwball comedy with the skill and artistry of a Howard Hawks, Leo McCarey and George Cukor rolled into one. Though some of the pratfalling and mistaken baggage handling verge on distraction, Bogdanovich handles the romance and banter like an old pro.
A great star needs a great director and Streisand couldn't have hoped for someone better than Bogdanovich. As mentioned earlier, this is no mere homage to screwball comedies - it is, pure and simple, a great screwball comedy in its own right. Bogdanovich not only has filmmaking in his very DNA, his encyclopaedic knowledge of American cinema lets him deliver his own series of roundhouse punches, drawing from the masters he clearly loves, while putting his own stamp on the picture. It's no surprise he was one of the great directors of his generation - from his staggering debut with the clever and chilling Targets, to the nostalgia of The Last Picture Show and Paper Moon, the freewheeling and sadly maligned Nickelodeon and, lest we forget, his romance of all things sleazy in Saint Jack, Bogdanovich kept serving up one great picture after another.
What's Up Doc? is no exception! It's one knee-slapping, roll in the aisles rollercoaster ride!
And then there's Streisand! But there's also a delightful Ryan O'Neal and an unforgettable collection of terrific character performances - from Austin Pendleton's dweeby, lascivious foundation director to Kenneth Mars as the snooty Croatian academic, Bogdanovich assembled a dream cast.
And yes, then there's Streisand! She's a peach, but someone had to cast her!
What's Up Doc? is available on a luscious new Blu-Ray from Warner Home Video that highlights Laszlo Kovacs's cinematography beautifully and comes replete with a nice selection of bonus features including a fine Bogdanovich commentary and even some scene specific words from Babs herself.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
Roman Holiday
Starring: Audrey Hepburn, Gregory Peck, Eddie Albert
***
By Alan Bacchus
Like the breezing feeling of driving around the Roman Portico on a Vespa, such is the experience of watching Roman Holiday, the delightful romantic comedy and screen debut of Audrey Hepburn and accidental advertising campaign for Vespa scooters.
Miss Hepburn in first major screen role at the age of 24, plays Princess Ann, a royal from an unspecified country, likely patterned after then youthful princess Elizabeth II who was inaugurated as the Queen the year before. Ann’s come to Rome on an official visit, which means endless days of bows, curtsies, pomp and ceremony. As she watches the vivacious energy of the common people in the streets she desperately yearns to experience the city this way. The night before she’s due to leave Rome she escapes from the room and lands herself in the middle of Rome at night.
Sleepy-headed and thus out of sorts, she falls into the company of a handsome journalist Joe Bradley (Gregory Peck), and winds up sleeping on his couch. The next morning, Joe and Princess Ann gallivant around the city riding Vespas, getting her hair done, sight seeing etc. Only Joe knows it’s actually the Princess and hides the fact that he’s a journalist in order to get an exclusive story. Even though they fall in love her royal duties prevent her from being with Joe, but not before Princess Ann admonishes her affection for him in a coy speech to the press in the film’s finale.
Roman Holiday feels like a template film for modern romantic comedies – specifically 'Notting Hill', and virtually every romcom made by Garry Marshall. Despite being a royal of privilege and wealth her character is written as a porcelain doll unable to experience the real joys in life – only the fake, manufactured life of being a public figure to be gawked at like an ornament on the mantelpiece. Thus the audience feels empowered to see the upper class in a position of superiority. But it’s really fairytale stuff, a reverse Cinderella/Pygmalion story which isn’t all the original in the first place.
Conflict is kept to a minimum for the most part, as Joe is never really taken to task for his deception of Ann. There’s also some laughable lapses in cinema logic – specifically the idea that the Princess can walk around Rome not noticed. Or even that by cutting her hair she would be rendered completely invisible. But there’s no such thing as common sense in cinema as long as it fits into the formalized structure of the genre. And this screenplay is crafted to genre-perfection.
The screenplay, written by then blacklisted Dalton Trumbo, who couldn’t take credit for the work, was originally packaged for Elizabeth Taylor and Cary Grant. When Hepburn replaced Taylor Grant bowed out for fear of being upstaged by the meatier role and Hepburn’s innate on screen charm. Peck admirably shares the screen and the starring credit, furthering his reputation as a Hollywood nice guy. Hepburn even won an Oscar for the work.
In 1953, the on location setting was new and fresh, and even with today’s eyes Rome in the 1950’s is rendered impossibly romantic. And with Peck and Hepburn searing the screen it justly remains a classic today, a dreamy romcom par excellence.
Friday, 23 April 2010
Control Alt Delete
Starring: Tyler Labine, Sonja Bennett, Geoff Gustafson, Keith Dallas, Alisen Down
**1/2
By Alan Bacchus
Cameron Labine’s directorial debut, opening this weekend in limited release in Vancouver is another entry in the long line of Canadian sex comedies. Everyone has a fetish, and Labine decides to give his lead character, Lewis, one of the sickest and most headturning - sex and desktop computers. Wait, let me clarify sex with desktop computers. It’s a wild ridiculous concept, something which could only be gotten away with in Canada or Scandinavia. Unfortunately, despite the concept the film has difficulties sustaining its humour beyond its festish raunchiness.
The running theme of “Control Alt Delete” is fetish and how our insecurities about them can cause us to do some pretty outrageous and silly things to cover them up. This is what happens to Lewis Henderson (Tyler Labine), our portly computer programmer hero. It’s December 1999 and Lewis works in a company devoted to fixing the “Y2K” bug for its clients. He’s successful at his job, but his domestic life is in shambles. Lewis can’t perform sexually with his girlfriend Sarah (“Ready or Not’s” Laura Bertram, whom see in a 69 position as the first shot in the film – awesome!). Lewis retreats to sneaky porn-watching in the middle of the night to jerk off. But not even that can get him off.
The only thing that turns him on is his computer. So why not fuck it? Lewis literally drills a hole in the side of his PC and fucks his computer. It’s one of the most ridiculously absurd moments in film I’ve seen. Lewis takes his fetish to work and starts drilling holes and screwing other computers in the office late at night. Meanwhile, Lewis starts up a relationship with the office wallflower Angela (Alisen Down) who proves to be more liberal in bed than her conservative demeanour would suggest. Lewis’ career becomes threatened though when the office douchebag who’s investigating the serial computer-fucker gets close to exposing Lewis. Lewis is forced to confront and accept his own responsibility and his own fetish in order to right everything that’s wrong.
Labine’s film appears to be born from the singular concept of a man fucking a computer. Unfortunately slapped onto this gag is a note for note recycling of Mike Judge’s “Office Space” which casts a shadow over the entire film. “Office Space” shouldn’t make other office comedies out of bounds, but there’s very little that differentiates the two films. In addition to bottling Judge's absurd/satirical tone, each character seems like an overly familiar fusion of Judge's characters, with some slight tweeks to the extreme. Angela, the office manager (Alisen Down), operates in the same manner as the excruciating Lumbergh. Down adds a nervous behavioral twitch, which, in it’s extremity becomes annoying very quickly. Lapine even has a running gag with the character’s names. Everyone’s last name ends in ‘son’- Frederickson, Gustafson, Medelsson – perhaps borrowing from the identity confusion gag in “American Psycho”.
The fetish gag is hung on a traditional romantic comedy structure. Thankfully lead actor Tyler Labine, known for his work on “Reaper”, is an oddly lovable hero (also check him out in 'Tucker and Dale Vs. Evil' this summer). Despite his reprehensible behaviour, including the computer-fucking, the screen loves the man and we desperately want him to get the girl and defeat his douchebag rival. His leading lady Sonja Bennett (last seen in “Young People Fucking”) gives Jane a more aloof personality, but she is also highly watchable and girl-next-door alluring.
“Control Alt Delete” is not this year’s “Young People Fucking”, but it’s good see there’s still more enthusiastic sex comedy filmmakers emerging in Canadian cinema. Enjoy.
'Control Alt Delete' opens theatrically this weekend in Vancouver only via E1 Entertainment.
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