Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Film. Show all posts
Saturday, May 29, 2010
RIP Dennis Hopper
Heineken? Fuck that shit. Pabst. Blue. Ribbon.
When I was a kid Dennis Hopper was little more than a train wreck fading into obscurity. But even that is projecting a boomer perspective on it, as I'm sure I'm not alone among GenXers in having not given the guy any thought at all.
But then 1986 happened. Hollywood's no stranger to second acts, but River's Edge, Blue Velvet and Hoosiers were more like a nuclear explosion than a comeback. In a time we otherwise defined by the works of John Hughes, Frank Booth and "Shooter" were and still are two of the most vivid and memorable characters the decade had to offer. This weird, creepy washed up hippie became forever etched in our consciousness the way only actors and films from your youth can.
Rebel Without A Cause, Giant, Cool Hand Luke, Easy Rider, River's Edge, Blue Velvet, Hoosiers, Colors, Red Rock West, True Romance and Speed in addition to his photography and other artistic endeavors represent quite an oeuvre by any standard. But the fact that he emerged from the dung heap of counter-cultural jackassery to become a great American who didn't take himself at all seriously may well be his greatest accomplishment of all. Vaya con dios.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
No Way Out
It was one of those weird quirks of fate that sounds like the most shameless fabrication, but last night I grabbed a movie out of a small pile while everyone else was slobbering over election returns. It was a DVD marked only with the film title (as most of mine are) and all I remembered is that I had started watching it some time ago and I hadn't finished it because I either fell asleep or was otherwise distracted.
No Way Out (1950)
It is the story of a young black doctor (Sidney Poitier) as he contends with racism, being a novelty and the high standards he has for himself. He was to tend to brothers who were shot up in an altercation with police, and one of them dies as he is attempting to administer a spinal tap. The surviving brother, played by quintessential noir scuzzball Richard Widmark, accuses the doctor of killing him.
In what could best be described as an early form of Political Correctness, the hospital's chief administrator wants to sweep it under the rug, but Poitier goes to great lengths to assure that an autopsy is performed which will vindicate his decisions as a doctor. It is an interesting and nuanced story in which there is more honesty than seems possible in a modern Hollywood drama. And in Poitier's supervisor, played by Steven McNally, conservatives will see a character that speaks to them just as the hospital administrator so embodies much of what we loathe about the left.
For some reason, the pure dumb luck of viewing this film made me at peace with the election results. Obama has not earned my respect. Thus far I find him rather loathesome and his brain-dead supporters give me the creeps. But given our nation's history with regard to race it is hard not to see this as a good day for us. He's no Jackie Robinson. He isn't even Poitier's character in No Way Out. But the election result is what it is. There is "no way out" if you will. And I find that at least in the short-run my concerns for his presidency are tempered by the fact that this is an historic moment and the hope that black kids throughout the country take this as the sign of hope and the kick in the ass that the victimology pimps have for so long deprived them.
No Way Out (1950)
It is the story of a young black doctor (Sidney Poitier) as he contends with racism, being a novelty and the high standards he has for himself. He was to tend to brothers who were shot up in an altercation with police, and one of them dies as he is attempting to administer a spinal tap. The surviving brother, played by quintessential noir scuzzball Richard Widmark, accuses the doctor of killing him.
In what could best be described as an early form of Political Correctness, the hospital's chief administrator wants to sweep it under the rug, but Poitier goes to great lengths to assure that an autopsy is performed which will vindicate his decisions as a doctor. It is an interesting and nuanced story in which there is more honesty than seems possible in a modern Hollywood drama. And in Poitier's supervisor, played by Steven McNally, conservatives will see a character that speaks to them just as the hospital administrator so embodies much of what we loathe about the left.
For some reason, the pure dumb luck of viewing this film made me at peace with the election results. Obama has not earned my respect. Thus far I find him rather loathesome and his brain-dead supporters give me the creeps. But given our nation's history with regard to race it is hard not to see this as a good day for us. He's no Jackie Robinson. He isn't even Poitier's character in No Way Out. But the election result is what it is. There is "no way out" if you will. And I find that at least in the short-run my concerns for his presidency are tempered by the fact that this is an historic moment and the hope that black kids throughout the country take this as the sign of hope and the kick in the ass that the victimology pimps have for so long deprived them.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Weekend roundup
Halloween is usually one of my favorite times of the year in NYC. But because this election has frayed my nerves in a way they usually don't and the Halloween Parade is overly political in even a normal year, I said no danke. And because I no longer have the stomach (or self-restraint) to suffer parties with a phalanx of girls thinking they're clever by dressing as Sarah Palin in lieu of the traditional french maid or hooker with bunny/pussycat ears I said no merci beaucoup to that. I could live with last year's "clever" costume of choice - a predictible Amy Winehouse every 3.6 feet - but even that is a crime because the slutty costume is Halloween's raison d'etre in my book. I hooked up with a slutty mermaid a couple years back and the glittery scales she shed all over my apartment still turn up from time to time to provoke a sly smile outta me. Ah, memories.
My rewards for hibernating were limited to watching some great college football. Pitt coming back from a 14-point halftime deficit to beat Notre Dame in four overtimes was a thing of beauty. Not only is Charlie Weis a gluttonous tool but the thought of Notre Dame's fanbase of white-haired-drunks and their dimwitted progeny getting weepy makes sadistic tears of joy flow from my eyes. SEC fans may be the epitome of creepy obsessiveness, but there is nothing as deluded and unjustifiably arrogant as your average Notre Dame fan. Unfortunately, the rest of my weekend entertainment was a snoozefest of epic proportions.
Movies:
I made a couple more random grabs from the movie collection. Two of my addictions are film noir and [the aesthetics of] late 50's/early 60's films, so I indulged in one of each.
A lady without passport
The thing about noir is that once you've burned through the classics you sort of have to love the genre or you're taking your chances. There are literally hundreds of good ones but many are as forgettable as your average Law & order episode. This film, starring John Hodiak and the beautiful Hedy Lamarr is an example of that. Hodiak plays an undercover immigration agent sent to post-WWII Havana to bust a human trafficking ring where he meets and falls for Lamarr who is desperate to get smuggled into the US. It gets off to an interesting start but sort of flounders after that. I can't really justify a serious review, except to say that if you're a noir junkie it is passable but if you aren't then life is too short and there are too many better obscure ones to bother with this.
Funny Face
Great visual style. There's something endearing about Audrey Hepburn even though I find her embarassingly campy and in many roles she exhibits all the sex appeal of Don Knotts, or, Gwynneth Paltrow. I suppose this film is a classic, sort of "The Devil Wears Prada" meets "Cinderella" with song and dance numbers. And I am totally down with any flick in which a bolshie bookworm is dragged into the world of crass commercialism. But I remembered really liking this film the first time I saw it and after a second viewing I don't remember why.
My rewards for hibernating were limited to watching some great college football. Pitt coming back from a 14-point halftime deficit to beat Notre Dame in four overtimes was a thing of beauty. Not only is Charlie Weis a gluttonous tool but the thought of Notre Dame's fanbase of white-haired-drunks and their dimwitted progeny getting weepy makes sadistic tears of joy flow from my eyes. SEC fans may be the epitome of creepy obsessiveness, but there is nothing as deluded and unjustifiably arrogant as your average Notre Dame fan. Unfortunately, the rest of my weekend entertainment was a snoozefest of epic proportions.
Movies:
I made a couple more random grabs from the movie collection. Two of my addictions are film noir and [the aesthetics of] late 50's/early 60's films, so I indulged in one of each.
A lady without passport
The thing about noir is that once you've burned through the classics you sort of have to love the genre or you're taking your chances. There are literally hundreds of good ones but many are as forgettable as your average Law & order episode. This film, starring John Hodiak and the beautiful Hedy Lamarr is an example of that. Hodiak plays an undercover immigration agent sent to post-WWII Havana to bust a human trafficking ring where he meets and falls for Lamarr who is desperate to get smuggled into the US. It gets off to an interesting start but sort of flounders after that. I can't really justify a serious review, except to say that if you're a noir junkie it is passable but if you aren't then life is too short and there are too many better obscure ones to bother with this.
Funny Face
Great visual style. There's something endearing about Audrey Hepburn even though I find her embarassingly campy and in many roles she exhibits all the sex appeal of Don Knotts, or, Gwynneth Paltrow. I suppose this film is a classic, sort of "The Devil Wears Prada" meets "Cinderella" with song and dance numbers. And I am totally down with any flick in which a bolshie bookworm is dragged into the world of crass commercialism. But I remembered really liking this film the first time I saw it and after a second viewing I don't remember why.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Happy happy thoughts
Even though things look a little grim for those wishing to keep Obama out of the White House, I refuse to let it consume me at the expense of my mental health. You gots to keep some small sense of humor about it. So here's some happy thoughts, distractions and recommendations.
In general I prefer folk art and POP to whatever is au courant in the art world. Some jerkwad "sophisticates" might argue that I really don't get it, but I'd suggest that I do and I just don't fucking care. Something either appeals to you or it doesn't. I love this print by Gary Baseman. Especially the way it captures the expressiveness of old school animation with a modern way. I'd buy one in a heartbeat were the prints not the size of a postcard. Maybe I'll get a starving artist to duplicate it in a larger size. I don't know what the ethics of that are if you're not trying to deceive anyone into thinking it is an original. I just know it would look pretty cool in my living room.
Movie recommendations:
Shitty weather here in New York put me in the mood for old movies, so I yanked a few out of my massive collection - thanks to a brother who has bought, illegally downloaded or copied off cable practically every film ever made - and took myself back to the golden age of Hollywood. I've been doing so much of this in the past few years that I'm starting to think of people like Robert Mitchum, Barbara Stanwyck, Humphrey Bogart and Gene Tierney as my contemporaries.
13 Rue Madeleine
Stars James Cagney and Richard Conte as American agents during the run up to the Allied invasion. One is actually a Nazi plant and US intelligence decides to allow him to maintain his cover in order to feed him disinformation. It is based on a true story, and like other films of this period based on actual events like The House on 92nd Street it has a dull, documentary quality for much of the film but is definitely worth watching if the subject matter interests you.
From Here to Eternity
Probably most famous for the scene in which Burt Lancaster rolls around with Deborah Kerr on the beach, this is a classic in every sense of the word. It has everything. A great cast. Adultery. Murder. The almost frivolous corruption which enveloped the military when it lacked the sense of purpose with which war fills it. Frank Sinatra as a goofball drunk. Donna Reed in all her hotness. And no happy ending.
Book recommendation:
During the week I read Parliament of Whores for like the fifth time. Whenever I find myself taking politics too seriously, find myself dispirited or otherwise need a reminder about why I care at all this hilarious book is all the comic relief and focus I need. PJ O'Rourke's schtick has maybe grown a little tired but this is him in his prime and it is brilliant and though-provoking even if you're a big government even if you're silly enough to disagree with his political point of view.
Sports:
And lest this blog's contents suggest I'm some weepy little pseudo-intellectual Manhattan dork boy, three cheers to QB Mike Teel and the Rutgers football team for coming out of their coma and opening a can of whoop-ass on #17 Pitt.
I adopted Rutgers because I'm a Jersey native, LOVE college football and I can't bring myself to give a shit about my alma mater's big games against the likes of mighty Princeton. And while it was lame having to watch this game on my laptop since ESPN 360 was the only coverage, it was still more fun than moping around a bar or tailgate after a loss. That's the funny thing about college football. Every game is precious and meaningful. And even though there is no substitute for a tailgate surrounded by hot college girls and free-flowing beer, it all dissipates into one big knot in your stomach when you lose. It was nice to finally have the happy back even if it was confined to me in my shorts in the living room.
In general I prefer folk art and POP to whatever is au courant in the art world. Some jerkwad "sophisticates" might argue that I really don't get it, but I'd suggest that I do and I just don't fucking care. Something either appeals to you or it doesn't. I love this print by Gary Baseman. Especially the way it captures the expressiveness of old school animation with a modern way. I'd buy one in a heartbeat were the prints not the size of a postcard. Maybe I'll get a starving artist to duplicate it in a larger size. I don't know what the ethics of that are if you're not trying to deceive anyone into thinking it is an original. I just know it would look pretty cool in my living room.
Movie recommendations:
Shitty weather here in New York put me in the mood for old movies, so I yanked a few out of my massive collection - thanks to a brother who has bought, illegally downloaded or copied off cable practically every film ever made - and took myself back to the golden age of Hollywood. I've been doing so much of this in the past few years that I'm starting to think of people like Robert Mitchum, Barbara Stanwyck, Humphrey Bogart and Gene Tierney as my contemporaries.
13 Rue Madeleine
Stars James Cagney and Richard Conte as American agents during the run up to the Allied invasion. One is actually a Nazi plant and US intelligence decides to allow him to maintain his cover in order to feed him disinformation. It is based on a true story, and like other films of this period based on actual events like The House on 92nd Street it has a dull, documentary quality for much of the film but is definitely worth watching if the subject matter interests you.
From Here to Eternity
Probably most famous for the scene in which Burt Lancaster rolls around with Deborah Kerr on the beach, this is a classic in every sense of the word. It has everything. A great cast. Adultery. Murder. The almost frivolous corruption which enveloped the military when it lacked the sense of purpose with which war fills it. Frank Sinatra as a goofball drunk. Donna Reed in all her hotness. And no happy ending.
Book recommendation:
During the week I read Parliament of Whores for like the fifth time. Whenever I find myself taking politics too seriously, find myself dispirited or otherwise need a reminder about why I care at all this hilarious book is all the comic relief and focus I need. PJ O'Rourke's schtick has maybe grown a little tired but this is him in his prime and it is brilliant and though-provoking even if you're a big government even if you're silly enough to disagree with his political point of view.
Sports:
And lest this blog's contents suggest I'm some weepy little pseudo-intellectual Manhattan dork boy, three cheers to QB Mike Teel and the Rutgers football team for coming out of their coma and opening a can of whoop-ass on #17 Pitt.
I adopted Rutgers because I'm a Jersey native, LOVE college football and I can't bring myself to give a shit about my alma mater's big games against the likes of mighty Princeton. And while it was lame having to watch this game on my laptop since ESPN 360 was the only coverage, it was still more fun than moping around a bar or tailgate after a loss. That's the funny thing about college football. Every game is precious and meaningful. And even though there is no substitute for a tailgate surrounded by hot college girls and free-flowing beer, it all dissipates into one big knot in your stomach when you lose. It was nice to finally have the happy back even if it was confined to me in my shorts in the living room.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Paul Newman - RIP
A few weeks ago I re-watched his seemingly forgotten masterpiece HUD (1963) and would implore anyone who hasn't seen it to do so. While other Newman films have been more remarked upon in recent days, this is one which, for my money, gets short shrift. A late period black and white film gorgeously shot in Texas cattle country, it features Newman in the familiar role of the amoral loner with a terrific supporting cast and great dialog. One of my all-time favorites.Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Trailer for the movie AN AMERICAN CAROL
David Zucker's new movie opens next week. Not really my kind of humor, but I intend to see it and hope it does well at the box office. I'm sure the reviews will be merciless. But I'd pay for online midget porn if the story line mocked Michael Moore and got pinko panties in a bunch.
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