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January 28, 2012

HOME MOVIES

Your Random Movie Club Results Are In!

Tagline: Brian De Palma's comedy that catches every body in the act!

Pizza: Danielle's Woodfire Pizza

Preshow Entertainment: Norm MacDonald: ME DOING STAND-UP

DE PALMA SHOULD HAVE REMEMBERED RULE #1 IN LIFE -
NO ONE WANTS TO SEE YOUR HOME MOVIES.

I love every movie Brian De Palma's directed. From his popular stuff like MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE, DRESSED TO KILL, CARRIE, CARLITO'S WAY, BODY DOUBLE, BLOW OUT, THE UNTOUCHABLES and SCARFACE, to his lesser-knowns like CASUALTIES OF WAR and SISTERS, to early stuff like GREETINGS and HI, MOM!, to his oddities like GET TO KNOW YOUR RABBIT, and even to his crap like REDACTED, SNAKE EYES and RAISING CANE. Yes, I love every film De Palma's done. Except HOME MOVIES (1980). And sadly, HOME MOVIES is what the Random Movie Generator selected tonight.

HOME MOVIES was a cooperative effort between De Palma and his film students at Sarah Lawrence, where he was teaching a class. It's hard to say how many people actually had their say in writing and directing this awful movie (he shared writing credit with 6 students), though De Palma has claimed that 5% of the finished film was directed by the students. So if you directed 95% of this movie, that means you blew it, Brian. And if others directed it with you, you were in charge, so...you blew it, Brian.

Keith Gordon (who I really like) is our protagonist, a film student named Denis Byrd. If you think your family is nuts, wait'll you meet Denis'. His doctor dad (Vincent Gardenia) is fooling around on his mom (Mary Davenport), a non-stop, querulous sad sack. His brother James (Gerrit Graham, who I just saw play a dentist on an old WONDER YEARS ep.) runs an EST-like camp that practices "Spartanetics," and likes saying things like, "Those who know, know." Denis' only hope is his film school teacher, The Maestro (Kirk Douglas), an egotistical meta character that often pops up out of nowhere (once in a tree!), like he's Gazoo helping Fred Flintstone. When The Maestro teaches his film class, he begins by making an entrance, which is followed by his proteges giving him a round of applause. Douglas plays The Maestro like a typical 70s acting coach - teacher-as-therapist. But the idea (and slight logline) of this is - If Denis can just make a film that is honest, maybe he can turn his life around. The Maestro preaches an existential technique called Star Power, which transcends filmmaking by teaching you how not to "be an extra in your own life." Because "the camera never lies!" He goes on to tell his class that Denis' story is a "tragic example of someone who refused to star in his own life." So just how did Denis wind up being an extra in his own life? That's the story. The wacky story.

Denis is the neglected one in the family. When his mother overdoses on pills because of his father's extracurricular nookie, Denis is there to help her. Lying there with a (really funny, but not to her) framed 8 x 10 of son James by her bed - MOM: "James. I need James." See? Neglected. Not that mom's the epitome of stability and logic. When Dad pumps her stomach, she sees it as "He saved my life!" But he's the reason she took the pills in the first place. The trouble really begins when James brings his fiancee Kristina (Nancy Allen) home for the first time. James is an asshole, and with his New Age malarkey and "don't eat anything" edicts, he controls Kristina's every move. While pounding potatoes in the kitchen, Denis sees Kristina walking towards him in slo-mo, accompanied by a Pino Donaggio score reminiscent of (or lifted from) his music from CARRIE. Most of the movie, the shy "extra in his own life" Denis pines for Kristina. So what if she's marrying his brother? So what if she's a total airhead? And was a prostitute. And "did a lot of sex acts with a rabbit." Moving on....

When Denis screens rushes of his film for The Maestro, he gets a bad review and is sent back out with a three day deadline. Meanwhile, James, a man who has yet to touch Kristina (because he's apparently gay, and clueless about it), catches her with dried mustard under her nails (evil food!). He declares the wedding off unless she agrees to a "Temptation Marathon" where he places her in situations to see if she's seduced by things like sex and food (two of my favorite things, but not in that order). Can she resist cheap sex with bikers? We'll never know, because Denis rescues her (as Gordon does to Allen in De Palma's DRESSED TO KILL, released a few months later).

This mess of a movie becomes even messier when, at the halfway mark, Kristina gets a call from Bunny, whom we hear but do not see. But the phone is unplugged. Bunny, it turns out, is a rude bunny puppet. It's clear at this point that HOME MOVIES has ridden thousands of miles off the rails. Maybe two thousand miles, as not once, but twice this movie finds Denis in blackface and an afro wig, spying through the window on his philandering father.

From its animated overture to its horror film cliche comedic coda, HOME MOVIES is a sloppy effort. I think its biggest problem is its tone, in large part due to its annoying and abrasive characters, none of whom you can get behind. Mom spends all of her screen time crying in agony, like Brenda Blethyn with no emergency brake. But she was a mere runner-up to the winner of the Most Annoying Thing About HOME MOVIES Award (and with so many nominees, too!) - brother James. Accepting the award is Gerrit Graham, performing James as if he were a camp counselor in a silent film version of MEATBALLS 4. I can't say I'm surprised Kirk Douglas did this movie (and even invested in it), not just because he was the lead in De Palma's THE FURY two years earlier, but because he had just done SATURN 3 (where you get to see his ass) and was about to do THE FINAL COUNTDOWN, two suck-fi movies. I like Keith Gordon (now a DEXTER director), but he was such a wimpy thing in this movie that I couldn't really root for him. Believe it or not, it was Vincent Gardenia who had the least offensive performance. But not by much. Gordon, Douglas, Davenport, Graham and Allen were all De Palma alumni (Allen was also his wife at the time). And speaking of Nancy Allen:

Yes, this is another story about when I worked in a New York City video store in the 80s. Here's the set-up; all of the movies are on the walls behind the counter, on shelves. Their spines are facing the store, so to see what movies are available, all you have to do is look. But of course, some people would come up and ask, "Is GHOSTBUSTERS in?" As your friendly neighborhood clerk, I'd assist them by looking at the wall behind me - "Why yes. Here it is right here, between GHOST and GHOSTBUSTERS II." At this point, they'd catch on and just look for themselves. Except one day, this girl came in and kept asking for one movie after another. That's when I snapped and became rude to her. She must have really pissed me off because she was cute and I still got mad. Anyway, I said, "Let's play a little game. Instead of asking me if a movie is in, see if you can find it on this alphabetical wall." Man, I was an asshole. I still am, but I'll stick to this story. Anyway, at this time, Lee, a customer that I became friendly with socially, came in. Before I knew it, Lee and this girl were chatting each other up. Asshole Loses Cute Girl to Customer - Story at 11. I pick up on some of their dialogue. "....movie....Sarah Lawrence....producer...." Turns out Lee was a student at Sarah Lawrence, talking to this girl about HOME MOVIES, a girl who turned out to be Nancy Allen. Maybe one day I'll tell you the story on how I insulted David Byrne and Ellen Barkin. At least it wasn't at the same time. Anyway...

HOME MOVIES is said to be a parody of De Palma's childhood family life (his father was a doctor). But who cares what it's a parody of if it's never funny? And the repeated use of classical music cues to prompt a "funny" moment doesn't help any. The conceit of HOME MOVIES, being a movie by The Maestro about Denis making a movie about himself, never really works (The Maestro calls shots by turning to us and barking things like "Medium shot!"). In fact, I'm not totally sure that's the idea here. It's not clear, maybe on purpose, maybe not. But it was made in 1979, which was still the 70s, so, I suppose all bets are off. Every now and then the movie does treat us to a signature De Palma moment, like those jump cuts that move closer to the person (once again, like CARRIE), usually to the meter of the soundtrack; but honestly, this is just a bad student film. Remember, "The camera never lies."

So kudos to De Palma for making and releasing a feature film using his film students (wish I was in that class), but boo!-dos for making a movie that's so crappy that even a big fan of his found it terribly hard to sit through. This class project was an experiment that failed. It should not have been released to the paying public with the name Brian De Palma stamped on it. HOME MOVIES is something that De Palma should torture his friends with in his own living room - just like you do with your home movies. Only his have Kirk Douglas in them.

Preshow Entertainment: Norm MacDonald: ME DOING STAND-UP

How much do I love Norm MacDonald? Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis muuuuuuuuuuuuuch. There are so many levels to his comedy. The smirk. The stammering. The pretend he doesn't know he's saying something wrong. The delivery; a mix of stand-up and him sitting on your couch talking to you. His wiseass-ed-ness. His angle on how he sees things, which is skewed yet somehow, ridiculously correct. His use of words that sound spontaneous, like "endive" and "Janice." And his ability to make me laugh for an hour, non-stop.

His hunks go on forever (the one on the heart and death went on about 15 minutes, and the one on network news 10), and they're all delivered with gleeful (and fake) spontaneity.

I had just seen him live last week and loved him so much, decided to screen this special, which was loitering in the DVR. It turns out I wasn't the only one laughing. We all loved him. TOTAL RECOMMEND.

Posted by Rich at 10:00 AM | Permalink |

January 14, 2012

2012

Your Unrandom Movie Club Results Are In!

Tagline: We Were Warned.

PIZZA: Little Toni's

PRESHOW ENTERTAINMENT: None

Because I couldn't decide on a headline for this write-up, I'll let you see all the contenders and choose for yourself:

IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT,
AND I HAVE A MASSIVE HEADACHE.

NEVER HAS A TAGLINE BEEN SO TRUTHFUL - "WE WERE WARNED."

"I AM SUPER PROUD THAT WE'RE 45 MINUTES INTO THE MOVIE AND NOTHING
HAS REALLY HAPPENED YET."
--HARALD KLOSER, CO-WRITER/CO-PRODUCER OF 2012

I SURE HOPE THE MAYANS WERE RIGHT AND THE YEAR 2012 BRINGS A MASSIVE TRANSFORMATION OF SOCIETY. ONE THAT MAKES FEWER SHITTY MOVIES.

THE REAL END OF THE WORLD CAN'T BE THIS HARD TO SIT THROUGH.

2012 ISN'T SIMPLY THE NAME OF THE MOVIE, IT'S ALSO THE NUMBER OF TIMES YOU'LL SLAP YOURSELF ON THE FOREHEAD.

For the 12th anniversary of Random Movie Club, we screened 2012, a big fat stupid effects movie. But that's okay, sometimes we want to see big fat stupid effects movies. But when your big fat stupid effects movie has characters who you have less-than-zero emotional investment in, then you're left with just the effects. And when your effects shots are always moving, like you're on THE SIMPSONS ride at Universal (but without the fun of actually being on the ride), you're in a world of trouble. This movie is an assault on the eyeballs, as we find ourselves constantly dodging falling buildings, lava flows, missiles, airborne trains, and pavement whose cracks follow us like bloodhounds on a scent, no matter which direction we're running in. And therein lies an additional, less visible problem; because this is yet another movie with countless first-person POV shots, we never, not even once, feel that the characters are in any jeopardy. Instead, we feel like we're playing...no...we feel like we are watching someone else play an 80's Atari game.

2012 begins with the (not quite Annette Bening) Columbia Pictures woman holding the torch...whose flame sort of becomes a supernova. So they got me. They played with a studio logo. Somehow they knew that this trick would put me on their side, like it did for RAIDERS, CAT BALLOU, MARS ATTACKS!, SERENITY and so many more. Oh, how I love when they do that. And oh, how I wish I would have shut the movie off when that logo shot ended and instead, nursed a pint of antifreeze.

THE BEGINNING

India, 2009, and Adrian Helmsley (Chiwetel Ejiofor) ("Say, what is a Chiwetel Ejio for, anyway?") a deputy geologist for the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy (which in real life has no geologists, yes I checked) is visiting astrophysicist Dr. Tsurutani (Jimi Mistry). Tsurutani takes Adrian 11,000 feet down into what used to be the world's deepest copper mine so he could show him...a video on his laptop?? Really? Okay okay, after that, he opens a 6,000 foot deep well to show him that solar flares are mutating the neutrinos (now with less sugar!) to act like microwaves and are heating the earth's core. And that's all the time they spend on the reason why. To be fair, that's probably a good move. We don't want science (especially if it's wrong) in a popcorn movie. We want to see iconic landmarks destroyed.

So Adrian travels back to D.C. He hasn't slept in two days (he couldn't sleep on the plane?), yet he is compelled to interrupt Carl Anheuser (Oliver Platt), a government bigwig whose last name is a veiled Bush reference, during a fundraiser. "You have to read this now!" he yells. Because apparently, after the party will be too late!! That means the world's going to end any second!!! So when this scene is over, we better cut to...six months later? In 2010??? And we're where? In...Tibet? To either relocate people or put them to work on an oppressive government dam project that's not really a dam project? Hmmm.

Later that year, President Wilson (Danny Glover, who really is too old to be doing this shit) informs the other world leaders that the world will end.

And now...poof!...it's 2011. Here's where I would have liked to have seen a scene where Adrian is feeling foolish for interrupting Anheuser's fundraiser two years ago with his "you have to read this now!" moment. But instead, we travel to London where a sheik is informed that something he is interested in will cost him one billion Euros per person (and he's got a big family).

France is next, where we witness the heads of the Louvre and some Heritage Organization replace the Mona Lisa and tell us that the original will be placed in a bunker in Switzerland.

See if you can guess what happens next. Go ahead. Try. Nope. Wrong. Try again. Uh uh. Also wrong! Okay, geez, will you calm down? I'll tell you. Next, we cut to...the opening credits. And that should give you some idea on just how much 100% USDA Certified Crap they've crammed into this movie. At best, it's all just silly, but it's rarely at its best. I won't bore you with all the subplots and details. They bored me enough for all of us. But I will tell you a little about the main character, Jackson Curtis, played by John Cusack.

Jackson's a 33 year old limousine driver/struggling author. When we first meet him, he has fallen asleep on the couch, in his clothes, with a laptop and a pad resting on his chest (struggling author, remember?) and the TV on (which happens to be running a breaking news story on a Mayan mass suicide). Jackson's awakened by an earthquake, though I don't think he ever realized it. He's late to pick up his kids, who he somehow lost custody of to his ex, Kate (Amanda Peet). She's got herself a new guy, Gordon (Thomas McCarthy), and he's a plastic surgeon, and...what the hell am I doing? Who cares? The world's going to end!!

And since the world is ending, there's really no need to tell you about bloated Russian billionaire Yuri (I bet they had fights whether to name him Yuri or Sergei) with two odd looking kids and his girlfriend, Tamara (more fights over Tamara vs. Svetlana?). Oh, and FYI - Jackson happens to be Yuri's limo driver. And I don't need to mention the cruise ship singing duo of Harry and Tony, played by Blu Mankuma (that's just too close to Blue Man Group) and George Segal. Tony won't speak to his son anymore because he married a Japanese woman, and they have a kid named, I shit you not - Yoko. I also won't tell you about the murders. Or Charlie Frost (Woody Harrelson), a conspiracy theorist who happens to be right...and as cliche-eccentric (he enjoys eating pickles) as possible.

But all that's nothing. Here are the real reasons 2012 sucks.

DID YOU REALLY SAY THAT?

-Director/writer/producer Roland Emmerich: "We realized there was only one man who could play this part: John Cusack." Well, then how great is it for you that Cusack said yes? Because according to you, if Cusack turned you down, then you would have been forced to cancel your movie, since he was the only one who could play this part. Either that or say: "We realized there was only one man who could play this part - John Cusack. But he turned us down, so we got someone who stinks."

-Emmerich and co-producer Harald Kloser commented that their script was so good that people just signed on immediately. That means it had nothing to do with Emmerich's track record of multi-million dollar blockbusters featuring sky-high salaries. Do they really believe that cool, smart John Cusack would have done this movie for scale?

-Co-producer Marc Weigert: "We tried to do as much research as possible, so we watched the Discovery Channel shows."

DON'T INSULT MAYAN TELLIGENCE

-How does a geologist outrank security? Why would Helmsley, (who has the more pressing matter of saving the world) be in charge of someone who trespassed (Jackson)? Shouldn't he be looking at data and lava and a fissure or two? This man is clearly out of his bailiwick! (I finally got to use that word!)

-While the cruise ship is boarding, a large wave violently smashes the behemoth against the docks. Later, the ship is on its cruise. What the H? There was no damage?

-In one of the many getaway scenes, every single building and vehicle on the road is destroyed. Not one remains. Everything is either toppled or crushed. Except for the car that Jackson is driving. And because this is how they set the table, we're now sure that this family will be safe from anything thrown at them, except my pointed ridicule.

-QUESTION: If a 30 mile volcano was erupting, would you...
A) Stand in the danger zone with your family and watch it? or
B) Run the fuck away?
(Correct 2012 answer: A)

-And just how did the L.A. icon Randy's Donut roll 6 miles to El Segundo? That gives me an idea. This movie could have been this generation's AIRPLANE! (It actually did make me laugh a lot, when it wasn't angering me.) They could have used that Randy's Donut as a runner, popping up in China, Africa, wherever our players happened to be, and finally ending up as a giant life preserver that saves the world.

-I'm no geologist, but the idea of the earth's crust shifting thousands of miles and staying intact seems a bit implausible. But it's a summer movie, so okay. I'll let them have China moving 1500 miles. But how did the people survive? Was it like a giant People Mover? Was it like...land surfing?

-They're on an ark (they actually do call it an ark) at the end! Too on the nose? Well then dig this;

-The son's name is Noah.

-On the way to the arks, we see helicopters dangling giraffes and elephants underneath. Hysterical!!

-An alternate ending provides us with one of the biggest laughs. It turns out that George Segal and Blu Mankuna survived the overturned/sunk cruise ship. At the end, they're on one of the arks. Somehow, someone had spotted these two in the ocean, plucked them, and put them on the ark. And to drive home the extreme peril they were in, Segal's arm is in a sling.

"MORE RPMs THAN ANY MOVIE"

If there's one thing I hate in any movie, it's extraordinary coincidences. You know the kind; people bumping into people in weird places, like other states or countries. Sure, it can happen, so I always try and give a movie one or two passes. In 1985, I saw the movie REVOLUTION starring Al Pacino and Nastassja Kinski. That's the first movie that made me groan because of the coincidences. Pacino and Kinski bumped into each other everywhere, in different states, on battlefields, maybe even on the moon, I can't remember. From that point on, I've used the word "Revolution" to mean "far-fetched, movie-convenient coincidence."

I am here to tell you that 2012 wins for most "Revolutions Per Minute." Here, please sample but a few:

Adrian just happened to have read, and loved, Jackson's book, even though Jackson only sold 422 copies.
And if that's not enough of a coincidence, Adrian meets Jackson, who happened to be trespassing in the government restricted area of Yellowstone Park.
Because they can't make it to China, Jackson and his family (along with Gordon) land in what's left of Vegas. And who happens to be there, standing right on the tarmac? Jackson's boss, Yuri! This is a Double Revolution, because it turns out Yuri's girlfriend Tamara had her boobs done by Gordon.
On the ark, the crew turns on a monitor to check out the hydraulic gear shaft, and when it illuminates, who do they see? Jackson's family. In close up. "I know those kids!", says Adrian.
People on the ark look out the windows to see Air Force One floating by. That seems a little impossible, no? Especially with the earth now covered in more water than before.
With hundreds of thousands of people on the arks, Tamara and Yuri manage to spot each other.
While stopping at a convenience store near Yellowstone Park with his kids, Jackson's daughter sees a TV. Lily: "That's Mrs. Birnbaum, my teacher...on TV!" This is another Double Revolution, because Kate and Gordon were in that very same supermarket at the same time as Mrs. Birnbaum.
In Washington D.C., bodies are everywhere, covered in ash. But one guy manages to not die. He stands up. Hey! It's the President!

UNORIGINAL

-Sample dialogue: "When they tell you not to panic, that's when you run!!!"

-There are so many scenes where people call someone, and while they are on the phone they hear that person die. Then they put on a sour face of disbelief.

Laura (the president's daughter and head of that Heritage Foundation, played by Thandie Newton) talking to French Museum Director. (She gets to hear him die.)
Adrian talking to his friend Tsurutani. (He gets to hear him die)
Tony talking to his son (He hangs up right before he dies, so he doesn't have to hear it.)

-Then there's the hack dialogue-reversals, like:

Person A: "We're taking on an increase of almost .05%." Person B (incredulous): Per day???" Person A: "No. Per hour."
Person A: "One billion dollars is a lot of money." Person B: "I'm afraid the amount is in Euros."
Person A: "You're telling me that the North Pole is now somewhere in Wisconsin?" Person B: "Actually, that's the South Pole now."

-When it's all over, and the arks are floating to the new world (Africa, actually), Laura is in her room reading Jackson's book. Adrian asks her out, and Laura delivers Cliche Movie Line #1: "Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Helmsley?" Awwww, how adorable. But that's not all. She continues, coyly, "You know, my diary is pretty full." WHAT? What the hell does that even mean? Doesn't she mean her "dance card' is full? Now maybe that's an expression I've never heard in my life (nor has Google), but even if it is, shouldn't they have gone with "dance card?" Did none of the thousand people working on this movie point that out?

-In the beginning of the movie, Jackson is unaware that his daughter still wets her bed at age 7 and that she needs to wear Pull-Ups. So what's the last line of the movie? Lily: "No more Pull-ups." Jackson: "Nice." I suppose one can argue that life will go on as usual. It's also lucky for Lily, as there are no more stores to buy Pull-Ups from.

THE END (OR IS IT?)

Out of curiosity (or maybe because of my abundance of masochism), I watched the knock-off movie 2012: ICE AGE. It was made by The Asylum, a production company that is defined by its intentional rip-offs of big budget tentpoles like TITANIC (theirs was TITANIC II) and SNAKES ON A PLANE (SNAKES ON A TRAIN). I'm here to tell you that as preposterous as the Asylum's version is, it's not any worse than the original 2012. It follows just one family (though the daughter is separated from them), instead of dozens of global characters and the attempted saving of the entire human race. We become more invested in this family unit, with one goal (meet up with the daughter and survive). Unfortunately, because of how insouciant the players were during the annihilation of Earth, it fell flat. But 2012: ICE AGE doesn't pretend to be anything more than it is - a low budget outing riding on the coattails of the movie 2012, whereas 2012 thinks it's not only a great movie, but an important one.

On the commentary, director/co-writer Roland Emmerich, no stranger to the disaster movie genre (INDEPENDENCE DAY, THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW) and co-writer Harald Kloser seem like nice enough guys, though because of their respective German and Austrian accents, it's kinda like listening to Siegfried and Roy tell us about the end of the world. I can't really blame them for saying how great this actor is or that shot is (or even when Kloser, who also co-produced and scored the movie, started a sentence with - "As good producers, we..."). I mean, they did score three-quarters of a billion dollars on the theatrical run. So really, anything I say, and advice I give, would probably lower that number, perhaps by three-quarters of a billion dollars. But I just can't help thinking, What if 2012 wasn't a big stupid movie? What if it was a big smart movie? Or at very least, a big cool movie?

Okay, I know. We all work hard and sometimes when we see a movie, we just want to watch mindless stuff. We just want to see buildings topple, the Earth split, and giraffes dangle from helicopters. So if that's what you want, then that's what you got. But it saddens me that so many talented effects people did some amazing work on 2012, only to have it feel invisible, wasted on a movie where the characters are in the same amount of danger whether they are in the movie or at home watching it. What the filmmakers needed to do was watch some Irwin Allen and learn that putting heart into your movie (and a dash of schmaltz) will make you care about the people. Let them watch con man Fred Astaire get a cat handed to him, signalling the demise of the woman he was falling for in THE TOWERING INFERNO, or Shelley Winters sacrificing herself to save the others in THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE. Siegfried and Roy were absolutely right when they reminded me on the commentary that "when you look through the character's eyes...the action itself becomes emotional." Now if only they'd go out and make a movie that does this. Or they can just make another piece of crap like 2012. And another billion dollars.

Posted by Rich at 10:00 AM | Permalink |

July 11, 2011

MILK

Your July Random Movie Club Results Are In!

Tagline: His life changed history. His courage changed lives.

PRESHOW ENTERTAINMENT: Scopitones!

THE HUMAN KINDNESS
OF MILK

I hate biopics. They rarely capture the person they're biopicking. Sometimes they even backfire and I leave the movie hating the person. I liked Johnny Cash, Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis until I saw the movies and realized what assholes they were (still love their music, though). But now and then, a movie like MILK (2008) punches through and actually inspires. Admittedly, when MILK came out, I prejudged it. "Oh wonderful...lefty activist Sean Penn doing yet another 'This Way to Oscarland' character where he gets to chew scenery while glued to his soapbox." And then, when it won some Oscars (Penn and writer Dustin Lance Black), it became "there goes Hollywood, rewarding its 'important' movies again." But I was wrong this time, or better yet, they were right. MILK is an important movie. A well-made, bittersweet, uplifting and important movie. And Sean Penn? Well, he's just perfect playing Harvey Milk, not only one of the first openly gay politicians, but a man who wound up helping to shape our society.

MILK begins during the flashpoint in gay rights. For those who don't remember or weren't yet around; The late 60s, a time when, depending on where you lived, a gay person could be charged with being a homosexual in a bar, or if you're a bartender, serving alcohol to a homosexual. Police routinely raided gay bars; harassing, clubbing and arresting. The American Psychiatric Association listed "homosexual" under "mental disorder." And get this - The New York Times wouldn't even print the word 'gay'. So it was no small wonder that gays were closeted. You'd have to be brave and crazy to tell the world you were gay. Harvey Milk shouted it through a megaphone. Harvey Milk was brave and crazy. In a good way.

It's 1978, and Harvey, alone in his kitchen, is speaking into a tape recorder - "This is only to be played in the event of my death by assassination." Following this, actual footage of Diane Feinstein's announcement that San Francisco mayor George Moscone and Harvey Milk have been murdered. Even though I knew the key points to this story, this opening one-two punch drew me into the movie in record time.

Harvey's tape recorded account leads to voiceover, which takes us on the journey, beginning in 1970. Harvey, an insurance worker-bee a few hours south of 40, meets Scott (James Franco), and with a few moments of flirtation, they're making out in the subway station. Smart move, get the gay physical stuff out of the way so that the story can be told, a story springboarded by this line of dialogue that Harvey tells Scott - "Forty years old and I haven't done a thing...that I'm proud of." Together they move to the already progressive city of San Francisco, to an area called The Castro, one of America's first gayborhoods. Harvey and Scott settle in and open a camera shop. After the liquor store owner across the street meets Harvey and shakes his hand, he wipes it off with a handkerchief. But if you didn't do commerce with the neighborhood (read: gays), your business would eventually die. If you did, you'd flourish. The liquor store owner ended up staying. The times they were a-changing, albeit a-slowly.

Harvey's activism crept in as if it was unplanned (can't say it was, as Harvey could surely be cunning...more on this in a moment, or longer if you're a slow reader like me). Pretty soon people were coming to him, like teamsters who supported the Coors beer boycott (Coors was under fire for being non-union and also for firing gays). And as there's power in the union, there's also power in people sticking together for a cause. Still, the police were continuing to raid bars, and when someone got murdered for being gay, Harvey realized, "If we had someone in government who saw things the way we see them." Well, it doesn't take long for him to jump on his soapbox (Harvey is a funny and charming guy, so he actually stands on a homemade soapbox), and gives a speech on a street in The Castro announcing his candidacy for City Supervisor. He's dubbed "the Mayor of Castro Street" (even he's not sure who said it first - "...perhaps I invented it myself."), and people are listening. The irrepressible Harvey Milk saw a hole and filled it. Errr, maybe I could have put that better.

Harvey tries to win the election, and fails. The next year, he fails again. But then fate steps in as neighborhood boundaries are changed and so are the laws which now allow people to vote within their district. With the success of this election, he and his ragtag platoon of recruits ("My name is Harvey Milk and I'm going to recruit you!" was how Milk opened a lot of his speeches) knew they were in for a very steep uphill climb. But what they didn't know was that Harvey would be slain not by an anonymous homophobe, but by fellow supervisor Dan White (Josh Brolin). See, as Harvey's star rose, White's burned out. White, like others before him in his family, was a fireman with a Hallmark family. Suddenly, gays were shaking up his world. He tried to play ball, but eventually, with his morals threatened, he snapped. And so the fireman took action to put out the fire.

Harvey Milk died in 1978, and it was only four years later that I found myself in Times Square watching a sneak preview of a movie called BAD BOYS (not the Michael Bay movie) where Sean Penn played a vicious street thug named Mick O'Brien. I couldn't believe my eyes. This was the same guy who, one year earlier, played, with unmatched brilliance, stoner/surfer Spicoli in FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH, and he was scary good in both (though scarier in BAD BOYS). I remember thinking, this guy can do anything (...and he did, including WE'RE NO ANGELS, which was a little unforgivable and a lot bad). But let's face it, Sean Justin Penn can act circles, and I'll be a monkey's aunt if he didn't really become Milk.

If you think his performance is exaggerated or untrue, then I command you to watch an amazing documentary called THE TIMES OF HARVEY MILK (1984). Actually, everyone should stop reading this and watch it now. Okay, are you back? Where was I? Oh yeah...With Harvey Milk, what you saw was what you got. He was as true to himself as he was to the world. There was no phoniness in him, and likewise, there's no phoniness in Penn's performance. I enjoyed all the actors in MILK, but I'd like to single out a few. Emile Hirsch as Cleve Jones, a street urchin until Harvey takes him under his wing to become an activist ("My name is Harvey Milk and I'm going to recruit you!"), and Alison Pill as Anne Kronenberg, the lesbian biker chick who replaced Scott as Harvey's campaign manager (Scott couldn't take Harvey's devotion to activism, and neither could Harvey's next boyfriend, the playful but unhinged Jack, played by Diego Luna). Both Cleve and Anne have a waggish admiration for each other in the movie, and today are still big LGBT activists. All these characters, and more, unite for the cause, which could be anything from SF's pooper scooper law to the mega-important defeat of Prop 6, a/k/a the Briggs Initiative, which if it had passed would have made it legal to fire gay teachers (how do they know?) in order to "protect our children from these perverts and pedophiles who recruit our children to their deviant lifestyles."

Also bringing some major chops to the film is Josh Brolin, who played Dan White with such brilliance that his character should be studied in Psych 101 classes. He was a conflicted man, trying to be good, but ultimately unable to disregard his beliefs. When Harvey doesn't pull through on a promised favor, you can just see the inner torment on Brolin's face. Some say the real Dan White was gay and he either didn't come out or didn't know it (the movie even touches on this), which would explain why he acted out so much. In one scene, Harvey's quip to White, which would have seemed harmless and amusing to the open-minded, must have seared through White's skin -

MILK: "We're not against that (the family)."
WHITE: "No?? Can two men reproduce?"
MILK: "No, but god knows we keep trying."

I think if I saw Josh Brolin on the street, I'd tell him I hate him. But really, I love him in this. It's his Dan White I hated. That's how good he was. Later, when White started unraveling, I actually felt sorry for him. And then, when he passed the point of no return, I found myself worrying about Harvey's safety, even though I already knew White was going to kill him. White killing Harvey Milk led to the origin of the Twinkie Defense, an excuse so reprehensible that I can't even think about it right now. Of course, for me the Twinkie Defense is "It wasn't me.", as in "Hey! Who ate my entire box of Twinkies!!?" Anyway, Brolin nails it all, but he couldn't do it without a good writer (Black) and director (Gus Van Sant). They made us gasp at Harvey's demise, even though we knew going in that Harvey would be...demised.

Van Sant has had a heralded yet spotty career. He splashed with DRUGSTORE COWBOY, and followed up his hit GOOD WILL HUNTING with that shot-for-shot remake of PSYCHO, which his bio calls "controversial," though everyone else calls it "baffling." But here, Van Sant's work is skillful. His use of real footage (the anti-gay Anita Bryant stuff is disgusting, and it would be funny now if there weren't people still like her) is both effective and either amusing or devastating, and it integrates perfectly with the way this oft-verite film is shot. Van Sant was also able to use many of the same locations where the events happened, like Harvey's actual apartment and camera shop (redressed from its current gift shop) and San Francisco's City Hall. Also, among the extras in the film's candlelight vigil were participants in the original vigil over 33 years ago. It's a solid film, even though Van Sant breaks the tone at one point using a corny yet fun shot of at least a hundred people filling the screen, each in their own "Brady Bunch box", spreading the word of an upcoming rally on their phones BYE BYE BIRDIE-style. This was a gay network bigger than LOGO. Maybe part of the reason MILK is so good is that it was written, directed and produced by gays. I'd like to think that many straight directors, writers and producers could have made MILK (big deal, so do cows) (Sorry, I couldn't help myself), but I'm guessing being gay gave it lots of authentic moments and choices unavailable to breeders.

Now, back to Harvey being cunning. As heroic as he was, he was also a businessman, politician and entertainer, all professions under the umbrella of manipulator. I suppose you have to be to get your points across. Take for example the "pooper scooper" law. Though I'm sure he was really for it, he damn well knew it would get him noticed. So would his take on outing vs. privacy. Milk insisted everyone who worked with him came out, an idea that potentially has serious consequences regarding privacy and family. But Milk was always looking at the big picture: "If their families don't love them for who they are, for who they really are, then they should lose them." I can't pretend to imagine what coming out back then felt like, with the threat of losing jobs, family, friends, houses, and being beaten. And if you didn't come out, you were probably ripping yourself apart inside, perhaps even suicidal. And if you think it's easy, remember, Melissa Etheridge didn't come out until 1993 and Ellen DeGeneres 1997. Elton was more of a trailblazer, outing himself in 1976. Of course, Charles Nelson Reilly didn't have to say a word.

But the times are still a-changing. 1978's Prop 6 begat 2008's Prop 8. We all still have a long way to go. There'll always be some issue to fight about, and when there is, I want someone with the spirit of Harvey Milk there, because he proved to the world that one person can indeed make a difference. And just as he got people to be true to themselves and come out, maybe the movie MILK will do the same. Of course now we live in a time where it's more acceptable. Also, people have venues to look to, like Gay-Straight Alliances, Gay Student Unions and the slushie-happy GLEE. It's a time where movies like MILK can be made (imagine trying to make this film in the 1950s). Plus, being gay is not nearly as forbidden as it once was (thank you, Harvey). In fact, it's kind of voguish. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

PRESHOW ENTERTAINMENT: Scopitones!

Aaah yes. Scopitones. Those mini-film precursors to rock videos made to be watched on a specialized Scopitone jukebox in bars and other establishments in the 50s and 60s. These short music clips were usually filled with go-go girls. Sometimes, an act had a motif that was counter-intuitive to the song. Sometimes it was the artists themselves that were odd. No matter, for Scopitones are made of the stuff that makes my heart soar. They are goofy, fun, entertaining as hell and hot hot hot. No wonder I love them. I just described myself!

A vocally bland version of LAND OF 1000 DANCES by brother and sister team April Stevens and Nino Tempo. While girls danced, some in sailor outfits with bikini tops, Nino and April sang. Nino wore a black leather jacket which just looked wrong.

Gary Lewis (that's Jerry's son) and the Playboys did their Beach Boys-ish (so it makes sense they're at a marina) LITTLE MISS GO-GO. Yep. That's Teri Garr dancing around in this one.

WHEEL OF FORTUNE, with Kay Starr, who, and I'm just speculating here, had no idea there'd be girls doing stripper moves behind her as she sang.

Okay, next is Dion doing RUBY on an Air France plane (I guess that means he's in the Mile High Club). For some reason, he's the only passenger. And he's the pilot, too.

Bobby Vee (he did several Scopitones) is next, trying to act macho on a moped while singing THE NIGHT HAS 1000 EYES as couples dance and smooch behind fake rocks.

Bobby Vee (toldya he did several) is up again with PRETTY GIRLS EVERYWHERE. And he's right.

And, of course, Nancy Sinatra's famous THESE BOOTS ARE MADE FOR WALKING is a Scopitone.

We saw a bunch more, but I'm going to let you go YouTube fishing for some on your own.

Posted by Rich at 10:00 AM | Permalink |

June 20, 2011

DAUGHTER OF HORROR

Your June Unrandom Movie Club Results Are In!

Tagline: None

Pizza: Quickies

Preshow Entertainment: THE PRICE IS RIGHT

FILM NOIR CHECKLIST FOR
DAUGHTER OF HORROR

✔ NIGHT TIME
✔ BLACK & WHITE
✔ OVERWROUGHT SCORE
✔ CALCULATED LIGHT AND SHADOW
✔ VICTIM
✔ AMNESIA

AND...

✔ ED MCMAHON??

The movie we watched tonight was DAUGHTER OF HORROR (1955), and no, it's not the Dina and Lindsay Lohan movie on Lifetime. You've seen DAUGHTER OF HORROR, right? No?? Oh, then perhaps you know it by its original title, DEMENTIA. Still no? Well have you seen THE BLOB? You have? Well, then you've seen DAUGHTER OF HORROR...or at least a part of it. DAUGHTER OF HORROR, which from this point on will be referred to as the Homer-friendly DOH, was the movie that was playing in the scene where The Blob was in the movie theater. But is DOH a cool movie? Well, I think you'd agree that any movie beginning with twinkly starlights against a black screen as a narrator asks us - "You! You out there! Do you know what...horror is?" has got to be cool. "Come with me into the tormented, haunted, half-lit night of the insane," the narration continues. "Sure, why not, I'll come with ya," says I.

With a running time of 56 minutes, DOH is a short movie, and very low budget as well. It was shot (entirely?) MOS. (Wow, MOS! That quarter of a mil I dropped at NYU has finally paid off.) And nothing is looped, meaning there's no dialogue, just the non-deigetic (I learned that one post-NYU) sound effects, music (both on the track and played on screen by a jazz combo in a club scene, which sure looked like it was filmed live), and a Criswell-like narration provided by...hiyo! - Ed McMahon.

Adrienne Barrett (who made her next movie, which was also her last, 30 years later) plays an unnamed character (on IMDB, she's called "The Gamine"), who, when we first see her, awakens from a nightmare where she is walking into the ocean. You call that a nightmare?? Feh. I can do that while daydreaming at a red light. Anyway, she wakes up in bed still in her clothes, and dangling from her neck, a pendant that would make Flavor Flav jealous, and surely gave her neck pain (as if she won't soon have enough problems). She's in a small hotel room on the wrong side of the tracks. We know this from the neon sign that blinks in on her. She walks to the dresser and opens the top drawer revealing its contents - a switchblade. She smiles.

Later, she accepts a ride and a night on the town from a Rich Man (Bruno VeSota, or Bruno Ve Sota, I'm not sure anyone knows for sure), who, after visiting a few clubs, brings her back to his palatial apartment. There, he plays piano and eats chicken, much to her disdain. But I'm with The Gamine on this one. The Rich Man's fat and sweaty face, dripping with chicken grease, is enough to disgust anyone. So is the way this movie treats women; as things to sell flowers in the wee hours on a desolate street, or on their hands and knees scrubbing a floor that looks like it would take years to finish, or, in more than one case - for cigar chomping fatsos to slap around. To be fair, it treats men as pigs, molesters and murderers. But is it all real or is The Gamine insane? What are we seeing exactly? Her point of view? The narrator's? The film's director's? A conglomeration? None of the above?

It's okay that there's no dialogue in this film, because words can no longer help her as she unravels. It's almost as if we're allowed to watch someone else's cheesy nightmare. But even a cheesy nightmare can be scary (or it wouldn't be a nightmare). The Gamine's dreams are populated with elfin newspaper vendors and spooky flower peddlers. It's a world where shadows of giants climb the sides of buildings, winos get beaten beyond repair by cops with blackjacks, and police allow wife-beaters to go back in their apartment to get their coats before being arrested without handcuffs (Fox's COPS wasn't around yet, so there was no danger in doing that). This is not a world for the nyctophobic. It's truly a psycho nightmare, one featuring guilt, anger and paranoia, all leading up to why DOH is called DOH.

Part of DOH's creepiness is because of its Expressionism, as seen in a flashback where deceased characters act out how they became...deceased characters. This play-within-a-movie occurs in a graveyard featuring minimalist sets and props, like a couch and a bed, all while the actors sit among stones of death. There are other ghoulish moments, those of the amoral kind, like when a character laughs while watching someone get beaten to a pulp or even killed.

Unless you count the severed hand, DOH is not a horror film. It's a Beat psychological thriller. Specifically, it's Freudian (the same actor who plays her abusive father also plays a policeman), but calling something a Freudian thriller sounds dull. There may be a murder or two in DOH, but it's the lead's psyche that bleeds.

For the music, experimental composer (though not so much in this venue) and way interesting cat George Antheil paints a picture of madness with his wonderful yet repetitive score. Complementing the music, vocalist Marni Nixon (best known for singing Natalie Wood's Maria in WEST SIDE STORY). Nixon's vocalizing is like a "human theremin" meets Pink Floyd's ANY COLOUR YOU LIKE. Almost a demonic version of the 60s STAR TREK theme. It's haunting and yes, cheesy. Yet effective. Yet cheesy. Later in the movie, when visiting a club, we find jazz combo Shorty Rogers and his Giants (I so much love that it's "his" and not "the") playing themselves (billed in the credits under "New Concepts in Modern Sound"). Besides working with Perez Prado, Woody Herman and Stan Kenton, Shorty went on to work on lots of TV shows including THE PARTRIDGE FAMILY, THE MONKEES and more importantly, THE UGLIEST GIRL IN TOWN. Because there's no dialogue in the movie, and it's not quite a silent film, the music from the combo makes this jazz club scene even eerier (is that even a word?). ODD NOTE: Comedian Shelley Berman (now Larry David's father on CURB) is in the club, credited as "stoned beatnik"

I can't tell if the production company, Exploitation Productions Incorporated, is named ironically or not, but DOH is not a so-bad-it's-good movie (even though it was shot by frequent Ed Wood cinematographer William Thompson). Often called a borrower from THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI and a precursor to REPULSION, DOH has a legion of fans, like directors Joe Dante and the late Preston Sturges, and now, me.

DOH is a film that does things differently and succeeds on many levels (and also fails on a few). But I love that they went for it. I love that they did what they wanted and it turned out really cool. I love that writer/director/producer John Parker never gave up on his cheap-o, bang-out, but very cool Expressio-noir film that no one paid attention to when he tried to get it distributed. Censorship boards repeatedly turned it away, though today, you can probably see this movie on Teen Nick. Originally titled DEMENTIA (it was five minutes longer and there was no narration), Parker could only get this film in one theater in NYC, where it came and went. But three years later, BLOB producer (Hey!! That's my nickname!) Jack Harris bought it, renamed it, and added the narration. In fact, legend has it (wait, "legend has it" sort of nullifies "In fact," right?) that although Parker is listed as director, it was none other than that chicken-slobbering Rich Man Bruno VeSota who directed the movie (some are convinced Parker was VeSota's pseudonym). At this point, not even Maury Povich could tell us who fathered this DAUGHTER. Either way, congratulations are in order. It's a daughter. A cool and creepy, creepy daughter.

Preshow Entertainment: THE PRICE IS RIGHT

THE PRICE IS RIGHT STARTED NOT ONLY BEFORE DREW CAREY
TOOK OVER, BUT BEFORE DREW CAREY WAS BORN

THE PRICE IS RIGHT is the game show that just won't die. Since 1956, it's been on NBC, then ABC and then CBS, where it is today.. The episode we watched was from January 1964, which was the pre-"come on down!" era. Bill Cullen was the host and Johnny Gilbert (still working at 87 years old...on JEOPARDY!) was the announcer. There were three contestants and a celebrity guest contestant, in this case - Arthur Treacher. This was the same year he did MARY POPPINS and THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES, even though he insisted he was unemployed at the time. Treacher, although stating he had watched the show before, was totally lost...or totally drunk, which was sad (and of course, funny). He was the only contestant that didn't win anything.

Posted by Rich at 10:00 AM | Permalink |