bobwestal-2

I hope someday whatever problems are keeping Dustin Lance Black's deeply sympathetic but honest portrait in the can be solved and more people will see this extremely fascinating and poignant slice of Hollywood esoterica.

Circa 1976-77, I was the teenage president of The Junior Count Dracula Society, a completely forgotten organization put together by a young Pacific Palisades teacher who has since dropped off the grid, possibly on purpose. We published one issue of a fanzine, "Young Blood," which I recently was reminded had a cover penciled by Jim Starlin and inked by one of our gang, along with an interview with a then still somewhat dangerous Harlan Ellison. I co-edited this but my partner went on to become Falling James Moreland. (James is a whole other story. Look them up.)

Dr. Reed, as we called him, was a fascinating side character in my journey through this geeky demimonde and, while he did treat us in a slightly high-handed way -- and I'm pretty sure he'd decide who won awards based on who he thought he could get to show up -- I realize now that we weren't entirely fair to him. His achievements were real.

It looks like board this won't allow me to post links but if anyone wants some more detail, look up the Film Threat article about "My Life with Count Dracula" written by a guy named Bob. The main event is an interview with filmmaker Dustin Lance Black, who was then, I think, just starting to work on his Oscar-winning screenplay for "Milk." He's had quite a career since. It also includes more of my own reminiscences about Dr. Reed.

I first saw the opening of Otto Preminger's "Porgy and Bess" on TV, probably some time in the early 80s, and my younger self found it a bit slow, despite the timeless music. I turned it off

Last night, an extremely rare, cobbled together print screened at the L.A. Cinematheque and it was a bit of a revelation. The performances are strong and memorable. Dorothy Dandridge brings a great deal of vulnerability, strength and subtle (at least by today's standards) eroticism to her part. Sidney Poitier is said to be uncomfortable with the movie, but his performance is terrific, as is Pearl Bailey. Even better are Sammy Davis as the amoral, cat-like Sportin' Life and Brock Peters as the villanious bully Crown.

Still, I'm no fan of Preminger's earlier, leaden -- and far easier to see -- "Carmen Jones." Porgy and Bess" is far superior to that less controversial film -- though that may have to do with the fact that the source material is also far superior.

As seen last night, this is a sturdy but far from perfect work. Not all of the moments quite come alive, and there is some awkwardness in the way the film mixes the overtly stylized Catfish Row set (beautifully done by Oliver Smith) with actual locations. Also, even to my rather untrained ear, some brief portions of the score seem unduly popularized.

Moreover, while this doesn't detract from the achievement of the filmmakers -- Preminger's decision to film almost entirely in wide shots, with no close-ups and occasional medium shots, no doubt rendered it unwatchable on TV "panned and scanned" and may doom it even on widescreen DVDs if it gets the restoration it deserves. On smaller screens, we won't be able to make out the many details that are crucial to the way Preminger staged the film.

Also, the mix heard last night was odd. Many of the vocals, particularly on the opening "Summertime" seemed unduly soft and were overwhelmed by the instrumental music. Perhaps this can be fixed in a restoration.

There is the issue of the film's racial politics. Personally, I see nothing wrong with it, at least in a contemporary context. At the time when so few films depicted strong African-American characters, this may have seemed an unfortunate choice for a big-budget Hollywood film. And, while there may not be much "empowering" here, these are recognizable human beings that are not racial stereotypes. These are operatic characters who make poor choices because that's what tragic characters do. That alone made it a giant stride forward at the time.

In a modern context where strong and heroic African-American characters are less rare (though still not common enough), these characters seem nothing more nor less than human. They truly could be poor and undereducated people of any ethnic background.

Thorny politics aside, the original work is undoubtedly one of the truly great achievements of American music and (secondarily) theater. Poitier, Davis, Dandridge, Peters and, yes Pearl Bailey, were all amazing performers who we'll never see the likes of again. This less than perfect but still solid film clearly deserves to be seen and treasured.

But there's some fun to be had here in this slightly lame-brained noir. (Sorry to the above doctrinaire defender of a very narrow definition of noir, but "noir" is about a feeling and there's no strict definition I know of. There doesn't always have to be a femme fatale a la Barbra Stanwyck or Mary Astor to qualify -- though I won't argue it doesn't help!)

Mainly, the fun in this from is from the always great Robert Ryan who sinks his teeth into a out-and-out nasty character. Ryan even finds a little bit of complexity.

Poor Robert Mitchum, however, seems a bit uncomfortable playing a thoroughly stalwart lawman. It's more of a Gary Cooper part and there's nothing roguish for Mitchum to have fun with.

Still, there's tons of familiar faces doing good work including the always good Lizabeth Scott (not quite a femme fatale in the classic sense, I admit) and William Talman as a braver but stupid cop. (I'm not sure if we're supposed to think he's not smart, but he the risks he takes are beyond foolhardy.)

I particularly got a kick of out seeing the great Bill Conrad (aka Quinn-Martin's "Cannon" and "Rocky and Bullwinkle"'s bombastic narrator) as well as Don Porter as a sleazy ward healer. 20 years later Porter would play an equally oily (though arguably less evil) political type, as the Nixonian/Reaganesque Senator Crocker Jarman in "The Candidate."