« May 2006 | Main | July 2006 »

June 28, 2006

Familiar FLOWERS: Screenwriter Accuses Jarmusch of Theft

The Boston Globe has an interview with New York University instructor and screenwriter Reed Martin, who believes that Jim Jarmusch lifted his idea--his whole screenplay--for BROKEN FLOWERS (2005).

Reporter Joseph P. Kahn gives Martin an uncritical hearing of the charge that Jarmusch saw his screenplay, which was being circulated by an agent, and used it to write his own. Of course there's money involved: Jarmusch scored a $40 million hit with this road movie about an emotionally closed-off man (Bill Murray) who learns that he might have fathered a now-grown son with one of four ex-girlfriends.

Bill_Murray.jpg

"Virtually all the film's characters, scenes and sequencing were his creation, or slight variations thereof, Martin concluded, from the ex-girlfriend who talks to cats to the pink envelope that propels [Bill] Murray's odyssey. There were differences, to be sure, but there were more than enough similarities to convince Martin that he had been wronged."

The Globe story also uses a few quotes from Jarmusch (from interviews done when he was promoting his film) that would paint the filmmaker as one with a casual view of "borrowing" material. "Nothing is original," Jarmusch wrote in MovieMaker magazine. "Steal from anywhere that resonates from inspiration...And don't bother concealing your thievery--celebrate it if you feel like it."

Hang on a minute: Jarmusch was talking about being inspired by classic films--he told me in a 2005 interview that he's addicted to Turner Classic Movies, where he caught THE PRIVATE LIFE OF DON JUAN (1934)--one of the movies that helped him write Broken Flowers. (Murray's character is seen watching a clip from the Douglas Fairbanks movie early in the film.)

What Reed Martin--and the Globe story--don't mention is that the basic plot of Broken Flowers (a man revisits long-ago lovers to discover a secret about his past) is not an uncommon one. Wim Wenders' DON'T COME KNOCKING, which also debuted at the Cannes 2005 festival, had Sam Shepard learning that he was the father of not one but two grown children. Even those critics who noted the similar plots remarked on the distinct differences between the movies. For each director, a screenplay is a framework. Though the two directors share some sensibilities, a Jarmusch film won't be mistaken for a Wenders film. Neil LaBute's play SOME GIRL(S) has a soon-to-be married guy in his thirties taking a road trip (or memory trip) to meet his old lovers--in the playwright's distinctly scabrous style.

And those are just three in the last twelve months. Martin's copyright-infringement claim will eventually be sorted out by those who can do close readings of both screenplays. I hope someone involved is a TCM viewer--and that they've seen a few Douglas Fairbanks swashbucklers and A LETTER TO THREE WIVES, the original missive-melodrama movie.

June 27, 2006

KINGDOM OF HEAVEN Revisited

Taking the view that it's never too late to bash last year's movie, Ross Douthat, writing in Slate, pounces on Ridley Scott's new, what-he-wanted-to-release-in-theatres cut of KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, which is now out on DVD. Why Scott was denied the chance to release this three-hour version, we may never know (the director mentions "some people" who were against the longer but paradoxically swifter-paced version.

If you missed the film on the big screen, you missed out. KINGDOM was an old-fashioned epic with a rare intelligence--and relevance to current events. Like all of Scott's movies, it was magnificent to look at, with a deep blue and golden hued beauty and sweeping battle scenes.

Kingdom of heavenposter.jpg

Slate's been running these "How Hollywood Works" essays every so often, and this essay has the grandiose title "How the Historical Epic Died With Kingdom of Heaven'--as if we won't be seeing any more attempts at this genre for a while.

In short, the critic has problems with Orlando Bloom, whom he says "never looks like anything but what he is—a handsome, unreflective 21st-century guy dropped down in a medieval setting, with none of the hardened masculinity or the defiant otherness that would make you believe that he belongs to a different time."

He's not the only guy who thinks that Russell Crowe's the only actor who's sufficiently butch to play a warrior-hero.

Man-pretty actors have taken extreme measures to play classic roles. As Achilles in TROY, Brad Pitt buiked up like an Olympian. Clive Owen (KING ARTHUR), practically rolled in mud to play a down-and-dirty Camelot king.

But Colin Farrell, who dared to reveal the emotional vulnerabilities of Alexander the Great (in the Oliver Stone film) and Captain John Smith in THE NEW WORLD, is dismissed in Slate as a lightweight. I couldn't disagree more: Farrell may not be as physically imposing as Crowe or Liam Neeson (who plays Orlando Bloom's father in KINGDOM OF HEAVEN), but most of these epic heroes weren't gladiator kings, but wily strategists who lived fascinating, complex, contradictory private lives.

While Crowe and Neeson convey softness as well as strength, Farrell can look he's dying of desire when he's looking a woman (or a man) in the eyes.

It took me a while to accept Bloom as the hero--but he is supposed to be a young man, a young widower. When he meets his father (Neeson), his relative youth makes more sense.

One aspect of all these historical epics that never works for me is the extreme shortage of women in ancient and Medieval times. Of course hero and villain (and others) feud and fight for the love of a princess (Eva Green, in KINGDOM OF HEAVEN). She's the only unattached female in the Holy Land--maybe in the entire world. Ditto for young Guinevere (Keira Knightley) in KING ARTHUR, Lucilla (Connie Niellsen (GLADIATOR), Pochahantas (Q'Rianka Kilcher), THE NEW WORLD.

In period films, these courtships take a predictable course, too.

They meet.

They banter.

They ride horses together

It rains and they get all wet.

They have sex.

I hope I can be forgiven for thinking, till I was maybe ten or eleven, that sex was always preceded by horsebackriding and thunderstorms.

Milla Jovovich, Paging Anna Karina

I always laugh when skinny little actresses are cast as ass-kicking, Ripleyesque heroines. One I don't laugh at is Milla Jovovich: what she lacks in heft, she makes up for in martial arts skill and sheer feral intensity. When she gets in an onscreen fight (in the RESIDENT EVIL movies or in the futuristic something or other ULTRAVIOLET, she always seems ready to fight to the death.

Ultraviolet.jpg

The Independent has an interview with Jovovich, who's over in London promoting Ultraviolet. I must be a philistine, but I failed to notice the film's John Cassavetes references. It all seemed to be an excuse to give Jovovich an Anna Karina wig and excuse to beat the shit out of people in a sci fi setting.

Which seems to be a real crowd pleasing formula.

June 26, 2006

Young, Gifted and Blank: STRANGERS WITH CANDY

SWCsmall.jpg

Offbeat sketch comedy hasn't thrived on Comedy Central since the heyday of The Kids in the Hall, but fans of the oddly addictive Exit 57 and Strangers With Candy can celebrate the return of the world's oldest high schooler, Jeri Blank (Amy Sedaris) and her beleaguered schoolteacher (Stephen Colbert). Now that the STRANGERS WITH CANDY movie is coming to the big screen on June 28, Comedy Central is re-airing old episodes of the TV series.

You'll have to stay up late for these marathons: they're on from 2-4 AM Eastern. Check Comedy Central's site for details.

'Orientation': YouTube Movie of the Day

Does these clips--several of them posted on YouTube and adding up to one 30 minute "Orientation," purportedly for the Church of Scientology--remind anyone else of the Hanso film on LOST?

They landed in my inbox this afternoon and I've been lost in their strangeness ever since. First, are they real? Or are they a parody of this religion whose tenets are unfamiliar (and probably misunderstood) by everyone who's not a member?

As one of David Poland's correspondents pointed out, the videoclip style isn't much different from the "cheap, cheesy and lame" testimonial videos made for corporate sales meetings, colleges, and charities. Poland remarked that the one over the top moment in in video number 10 was the line, "you could also blow your brains out."

Who wrote that, I wonder? The same scold who came up with, "If your best friend Timmy jumped off a bridge and killed himself, would you go head and jump of a bridge and kill yourself, too?" (Wait a second--the "jump of a bridge" line would be the argument against joining an organized religion or political movement.)

The videos--especially this one--reminded me of something that David Cronenberg would have done, circa SCANNERS. I am particularly fascinated by the host/presenters big, anchorman hair, which is so puffy and immovable that it just has to be an 1980s artifact. You simply can't find men with Large Hair anymore. Even Oscar and Emmy winning hair and makeup artists have blocked this blowdry technique out of their collective memories.

If you've got nothing better to do, you can watch the entire 35 minute clip here - please post your theories and hair care tips.

'Peter Pan' Heirs Hate Moore Wendy Porn

To most of us, the words "cartoon girl-on-girl action" spell nothing but harmless delight.

Not so for those who own the rights to Peter Pan, the most popular English-language children's drama and novel of all time. Writer J.M. Barrie, who died in 1937, gave the profits of his work to London's Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital. As the Galleycat publishing news blog reported recently, hoo-boy, were they pissed when they learned that V FOR VENDETTA's Alan Moore had plans for a graphic (really graphic) project called LOST GIRLS, a "porno-graphic" novel in which Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz meets Alice from Alice in Wonderland and Wendy from Peter Pan, and (as near as [Galleycat] can make out from the descriptions) they tell each other X-rated versions of their stories while having hot sex with each other."

The Pan heirs response to Moore: Think again, perv.

peterpan4-1.jpg

Peter Pan and friends aren't in the public domain. Though the Great Ormond Street trust has given its blessing to recent, critically acclaimed movies PETER PAN (2003), with Jason Isaacs as a swinging, sexy Captain Hook, and the Oscar nominated biopic FINDING NEVERLAND, there's no way that a slash-fiction 'toon will fly with them.

Moore, the subject of a recent cover story in Publisher's Weekly, takes a different view: he can't believe that permission is needed to write about such well known characters. Creators of satire, historial fiction, fan fiction and other forms of literary and artistic appropriation agree with Moore's "fair use" argument.

I don't think Moore will be deterred by any legal injunction. And Moore's fans, who are legion, will manage tto get their hands on the finished product no matter how much of a fight the Peter Pan people wage. But it makes you wonder: who owns a fictional character, when that character far outlives the copyright of its creator?

June 25, 2006

M. Night Shyamalan: WATER Baby

At least Uwe Boll has some sense of humor about the bad reviews he gets. (A twisted, bullyboy sense of humor...but it's there.)

M. Night Shyamalan, however, has no no sense of perpective --or humor -- whatsoever: in his next film, he mauls a movie critic.

Still smarting from the bad reviews and not-so-great fan reactions he got for THE VILLAGE, Shyamalan moaned about how Disney executives -- who'd backed his breakthrough movie THE SIXTH SENSE, his follow up film UNBREAKABLE and the spooky/ridiculous/aliens-sans-culottes saga SIGNS, didn't "get" his vision for THE VILLAGE.

Casting himself as a wronged auteur--but one unable to cope with the possibility that upon his shoulders fell the responsiblity for this disappointing, derivative movie- Shyamalan collaborated with writer Michael Bamberger in the whine-all book, The Man Who Heard Voices, Or How M. Night Shyamalan Risked His Career on a Fairy Tale. (Penguin USA, $27. 50) It'll be out the same week as Shyamalan's new film, THE LADY IN THE WATER, the don't-mention-Splash drama in which Paul Giamatti finds a "sea nymph" (not at all a mermaid) in his swimming pool.

LWC-05801.jpg

I have only one hope for this book: that it might become this decade's equivalent of the Klaus Kinski autobiography ALL I NEED IS LOVE. (1988), The late actor's petulant, crazy-ass, unintentionally hilarious monomania monologue classic, first published in 1988, was republished in the in the US as KINSKI UNCUT (TK, 1997). (Cintra Wilson writes of the Kinski experience in Salon. Sample quotes: "I am like a wild animal born in captivity, in a zoo. But where a beast would have claws, I have talent." and "I VANT AMAHNDA!" (Amanda's roommates: "Amanda's not here, Mr. Kinski? She's not here.")

Fingers crossed. But an actor on a lifelong sex tour doesn't quite compare to a profound business and creative disagreement between film studio executives between a talented writer-director who hasn't heard the word No lately.

Which voices does the title refer to, when the only voice Shyamalan listens to is his own?

In the LA Times story, it's astonishing to read about how a major director takes criticism from those who would put up the $70 million to make his movie. These studio executives aren't throwing out obnoxious ideas about whom to cast, or saying "can't we make it more of a love story?"--they're not even saying, "This sounds too much like Splash, and mermaids aren't scary." It sounds as though what they wanted was one rewrite. And for all those millions, that's not much to ask for. As for the gratuitous mauling of a character who is a movie critic/story analyst with the LADY IN THE WATER plot: it's a petty, inside baseball thing -- so on the nose/obvious that any director, writer or studio executive who read the script might laughed and then said, take it out in the next draft.

It's like in a disaster movie, where the tornadoes have already hit the city, and the dumbo-blowdry weather forecaster is throwing suns with smiley faces on the map, calling for for "Sunny skies, with no chance of showers--a perfect beach day!"" And whammo, a killer wind tears through, destroying the building, killing him. Ha ha. Because everyone hates stupid weathermen--they're always talking and being wrong! Juvenile.

Because some shit floats, and some sinks like a stone, and audiences can figure out the difference.

The preview audience with whom I saw The Village was desperate to "get" the movie-indeed, we were, as a group, enchanted -- for about fifteen minutes -- by the beauty and mystery of the film. Right up until the appearance of a frankly ridiculous looking figure wearing a red, woven wool cape with claws and a bony spine. What the fuck? Apparently Those We Do Not Speak Of are semiprimitive , homicidal monster-people, but they're doing fabulous, ingenous things with textiles this season.

Those of us who weren't sitting there in stunned silence were either groaning in disappointment or trying to suppress laughter. A collective bullshit alarm had gone off, and we'd all been awakened. That the plot resembled an episode of The Twilight Zone and (as was subsequently revealed) a popular young adult novel) didn't help matter. The spell was broken.

Yet anyone who casts himself as an auteur, as Shyamalan has, had better be prepared to accept total blame as well as total credit when a movie goes over poorly. Like the crybaby he is, Shyamalan blames studio executives--even though he famously refused to let them read his script for The Village.

Maybe if he had, someone would have pointed out that how flawed it was? No matter how beguiling the first fifteen minutes of THE VILLAGE is, with its painterly, tense portrait of an isolated, Luddite community in late 19th Centuy garb-- don't give the audience a full hour to wonder why those characters -- rural Americans -- made had a hysterical conversation about germs and how they need Penicillin to cure someone of an infection. That's a forty or fifty year fast forward and a big cultural shift: and the movie's not half over. (Also: Those We Don't Speak Of: Claws. Ridgeback. Must have been tough to customize that red cowl)

Claudia Eller writes Sunday in the Los Angeles Times that Shyamalan fell out with Disney producer Nina Jacobson and her studio boss Dick Cook when she (Jacobson) gave the director a "frank critique" of his script for LADY IN THE WATER. Writes Eller, "Shyamalan was heartbroken. Things got only worse when she lambasted his inclusion of a mauling of a film critic in the story line and told Shyamalan his decision to cast himself as a visionary writer out to change the world bordered on self-serving."

June 24, 2006

Q&A With NY Times Culture Guy

Got issues with the New York Times Arts and Culture section?

Now's your chance to mix it up with new editor Sam Sifton, who's taking questions from readers who care, dammit, about which film reviewers review which film, how (and why) the paper of record covers gossip and celebrity culture, and why the Monday arts and business sections bother to print weekend box office numbers on Monday morning.

That last one's an excellent question--the "win/lose" horserace reporting is reductive, the Monday AM numbers and rankings are unofficial and often unreliable. Besides, Variety has the real numbers on Tuesday afternoon--why not report those?).

Scroll down to read Mr. Sifton's praise for Jennifer Aniston. "Well, here's the thing," says the Timesman, she's "kind of a good actress. I can say that without being a board-certified critic. She is. (Rent "Office Space" and see if you don't agree.) She is also ridiculously famous. And I think it's just plain interesting to see how she negotiates that divide, to understand how she is forced by circumstance to make real artistic decisions at the same time that her personal life is undergoing dissection at the hands of tabloid editors and the paparazzi. (And at the same time that she is, at one level or another, courting the attention.)"

Times employees are hereby invited to tell Movie City News whether Mr. Sifton has Our Jen's image as a screensaver. Your anonymity will be assured.

June 23, 2006

INCONVENIENT TRUTH in Advertising Art

Sometimes I pity the people who create movie posters. They labor for weeks or months to come up with the perfect balance of image and text and movie-star billing. Then the movie will play a couple of weeks longer than its expected run, and maybe a holiday (say July 4th or Christmas) is coming up-- and someone in studio marketing thinks, "We'd better freshen up the marketing campaign."

But the best idea they can come up with is to slap a clip-art a firecracker and an Uncle Sam or Santa hat on the head of Garfield or a machine-gun wielding, zombie-killing Milla Jovovich and that market tested tagline will become "Jingle All The Way Into the New Year!" or "Who's Been Naughty?"

incontruthposter.jpg

Al Gore's global warming documentary AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH debuted with an intriguing arty poster that showed an industrial smokestack beneath a sky that looked like Van Gogh's "Starry Night." Now that the doc's extended its run to more cities, the advertising art evokes an image from last year's hit nonfiction film THE MARCH OF THE PENGUINS...only the new poster's penguins are marching across a sandy desert.

truthpenguins.jpg

Who cares about boring old industrial waste? There's nothing cuter than a bird in trouble.

June 21, 2006

Fiennes Furious (OK, Not Him. His Director)

Quick!

Read Sara Vilkomerson's congenial conversation with Ralph Fiennes, who's in the middle of yet another brief but brilliant run on Broadway. I don't know how long this link will stay active before the interview gets sent to the not-free archive.

The actor, who's at the Booth Theatre until Aug. 13 for his a Tony-nominated turn in Brian Friel's The Faith Healer, is not an easy person to interview, but Vilkomerson does an unusually good job drawing him out on his favorite subject: stage acting. He doesn't do lots of press for his movies, and when he does, he prefers to talk about things he's comfortable with (theatre, literature) nd not what magazine editors and gossip mongers would love to hear about (his personal life, his siblings).

fiennesA

fiennesA.jpg

Vilkomerson, who's the queen of the money quote (see the kicker to her piece on Jack Black, Vince Vaughn and women who love a guy with a gut), lets Fiennes tell some backstage anecdotes (like trying to concentrate before his entrance, every night , while he can hear the audience in the theatre next door hollering for Julia Roberts). And she also mentions the breakup of Fiennes longtime relationship with British actress Francesca Annis-- the UK tabloids went mental over it a few months back. (The actor doesn't comment on it.)

All fine and good, you'd think.

Nope. In this week's New York Observer, Robert Edwards, director of The Land of the Blind, writes a huffy letter protesting the page one piece, calling it a "cheap shot," "character assassination," and accuses the paper of exploiting Fiennes' celebrity by putting the actor's face on the front page. "Ours is a tiny little movie with almost no advertising or marketing budget; we only had two press opportunities with Ralph, and chose to give one of those slots to The Observer."

Here's some more publicity, Mr. Edwards: THE LAND OF THE BLIND (hey, where's the official website?) opened June 17 in New York, and it's been playing at Human Rights film festivals.

Touchy directors don't usually write letters--even when they're pissed off, they usually welcome publicity for a small film that needs a break.

Edgy, nervous actors are another. For this reason, Fiennes is one of the perplexing actors I've ever interviewed. I spoke to him several years about the movie Eugene Onegin, directed by his sister Martha Fiennes. Never have I met a brother and sister more alike in looks and more unalike in temperament. She was relaxed and amiable, telling funny stories about shooting a moody Russian classic. "Are you talking to Ralph now?" she asked, all but rolling her eyes. "Good luck! He's so....oh, you'll see. He's so serious!"

And indeed he was. Mr. Fiennes ushered me into a room that was arranged though I--or maybe he--was there to give a legal deposition. Someone--him, I assumed, had pushed two heavy armchairs so that they were facing each other, than a foot of space in between them. "Please, sit," he said, his smile as cool as a maitre d'hotel.

I sat. He sat.

The bizarre chair arrangement--in an otherwise uncluttered hotel suite-- meant that there was no space at all between our knees.

This was not comfortable. Either he's hard of hearing, nearsighted, I thought or this is some weird pscyhology experiment to see who blinks.

I find it a bit rude to stare directly at people from so close in. You all know what he looks like. With him, it's like looking into the blue headlights of an oncoming truck. I think I spent much of the interview with my eyes narrowed, gazing at Fiennes' right ear, or his teeth. His canines were kind of sharpish.

Anyway, Sara: nice job.. I hope there was a table between you. And bravo for not getting bitten.

fiennesB

fiennesB.jpg

http://www.observer.com/20060619/20060619_Sara_Vilkomerson_thecity_thetransom.asp

June 19, 2006

Uwe Boll: The Beatdown

From House of the Dead to Alone in the Dark to BloodRayne, Uwe Boll's been Hollywood's go-to guy for adapting a videogame into a dull, unscary movie. Now the director whose forename has provided the defaul review for entire oeuvre of shitertainment is itching for yet another critical beatdown. But this time he wants to film it.

The Ain't It Cool reports that Boll's thrown down a challenge to his most outspoken critics to face him in a boxing ring -- in a 10 round match to to be filmed for his next movie POSTAL.

So who wants to make Uwe Boll walk into their fist? For the purposes of the challenge, pretty much anyone can go mano a mano...as long as the man-o weighs between 140 and 190 lbs.

I'm in.

Film Threat has already set up a poll and volunteered one of its writers to take on the House of the Dead-wrecker for this publicity stunt.

Boll's last attempt to court favorable 'Net coverage was to invite all and sundry to the set of House of the Dead and invite reporters to be extras the rave-turned-zombie bloodbath scene. (The last thing that movie needed was more maniac extras. Try a few more 2nd A.D.s and production assistants with cattle prods to stop them from spazzing all over the place. Try another script. And another director. And never making it in the first place, because it bad even by Boll standards.

Despite the excitement of wearing corpse makeup and eating lots of free crafts services food in sunny Vancouver, the junketing zombies still slammed House of the Dead.

June 16, 2006

More NACHO, Please

mexihorror.jpg

For those who can't get enough of Jack Black in his Mexican wrestler kit, help is on the way--in Los Angeles, at least.

Discover the movies that inspired NACHO LIBRE: the Mexican horror movies of the 1950s and 60s, when science and religion and (of course) wrestlers grappled with supernatural creatures (Aztec mummies, Vampire babes, angry skeletons and "doll people." (I can't believe where that thing's tongue is licking on the poster for EL BARON DEL TERROR: lurid!)

The Haunted Hacienda has assembled a fabuloso exhibit of vintage movie posters and lobby cards. Who's been collecting all this stuff? It comes from the Del Valle Archives, in collaboration with the Drkrm. Gallery

Check it out before June 24th 2006.

Regular gallery hours are Tues-Saturday 11am-5pm.
For more info call 323-223-6867 or email drkrm@mac.com.

The website is: drkrm.com

All gallery events are free and open to the public.

Mexihorror.jpg

mexihorror.jpghspace=10 vspace=10 border="0" align="right">

Mexihorror.jpg

June 14, 2006

The Directors Who Said Too Much

Who listens to DVD commentary tracks?

The Onion's A.V. Club does, rounding up the oddest of the not-so-special-features for its Commentary Tracks of the Damned column.

Now the magazine's critics have come up with The 15 People You Meet Listening to DVD Audio Commentaries: the hack helmers who insist that all the good stuff got cut, the dreary academics, the kings of nostalgia (hello, Peter Bogdanovich), the tired and emotional cast and crew reunions.

Despite the proliferation of director's commentary tracks--and I've been listening to them since they were laserdisc commentary tracks--most of them are skippable. Sci fi and horror movies directors and producers who started in the 1980s and earlier love to tell the secrets behind every practical effect and gag, and they tell these stories not just because they're well spoken, funny guys. Fans of the numerous re-issues buy the new editions, and the commentators (Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, Wes Craven) actually have something new to say to the next generation of filmmakers.

I'm not sure what can be learned from the contractually obligated chats from the directors of movies like Stealth and The Island, but it's wicked boring to hear how many times a CG visual effect was sent back to the effects house.

It's like hearing an MBA tell you how many times he told his assistant to revise a PowerPoint presentation. That's not making movies. That's manufacturing.

'Tard Next To Ebert Thinks He Invented Blogs

Wait, you're telling me it wasn't the The Onion's sharp-as-a-tack columnist Jackie Harvey who invented blogs! And that blogs aren't influenced by Larry King, whose random, scattered thought-emissions were assembled into space-filling USA Today text>

Now the 'Tard Who Sits Next to Roger Ebert says he thought up the blog years ago--but never did anything about it. Too modest apparently. Richard Roeper, in another bid for feedback for his feeble Chicago Sun-Times column, writes, "Many years ago, before anyone heard the term "blog," I came up with the idea of running multiple items in a single column."

Don't bother with the rest of his topics du jour. Most of Roeper's column's are lists. Read Rick Zorn's response in the Tribune.

"Roeper seems to lack the humilty gene," writes Zorn -- "The capacity for modesty that makes insufferable overachievers sufferable. Just an observation. If you can find a self-effacing passage or a joke at his own expense in Roeper's ouvre -- and the rumors are true, he does have one! -- it will be one I've missed."

Zorn also points out that the "many subjects in one column"-column-which Roeper falls back on about twice a week--can be traced to journalist Jack Mabley, who wrote for the Chicago Daily News, the American, the Tribune and the Daily Herald. (He's got a scan of a 1981 column that hits upon five disparate issues.)

Tribune readers with long memories point out that there were many earlier columnists who did the same.

June 13, 2006

Get Hammered! Horror Film Fest in LA

Don't sweat the lack of quality horror films coming out this month.

If you're in Los Angeles, the American Cinematheque has assembled a shiver-worthy series of classic British screamers for the scary movie fans.

John Patterson, who's usually smacking around the new U.S. releases for the Guardian, has an overview of the films--from Hammer to Jacques Tourneur--in the current LA Weekly.

Highlights include the rare screenings of WITCHCRAFT (1964) a tale of witches and warlocks who take umbrage at the bulldozing of their private burial ground (it's not on DVD) and THE GORGON (1964), with Barbara Steele casting her steely gaze at all who...piss her off.

I haven't seen I START COUNTING (1969), but it stars "a very young Jenny Agutter" as a Catholic schoolgirl gone wild and/or homicidal, which is a can't miss plotline if I've heard one.

THE GOLDEN AGE OF BRITISH HORROR: 1955–1975. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theater. Through June 25.

June 08, 2006

CARS' Automania

I wrote about Disney/Buena Vista's CARS for the Boston Phoenix.

Despite the sleek beauty of the Pixar animation, this G-rated family entertainment hits the back-breaking/migraine- or tantrum-inducing wall of pain around the 70 minute mark, with two or three unfunny, protracted automania sequences in the desert.

When did kid and family movies start getting so painfully long?

Disney's classic animated films ran scarcely more than an hour: BAMBI (1942) had a running time of seventy minutes; DUMBO (1941) was 64 minutes. For many kids of pre-school, pre-literate age, these are the first movies we saw in a movie theatre.

TOY STORY (1995) ran a kid-friendly 81 minutes: short enough to dazzle and enchant the four- to six-year-olds who'd been taken to see it without sending them into pre-naptime meltdowns. The most recent WALLACE AND GROMIT movie clocked in around the 90 minute mark, too. CARS, with the pre-feature short "One Man Band," is close to two hours long.

Did Disney not think to market-test Cars before a full house of children fueled up on jumbo popcarn and extra-large sodas? Or did someone say, "Let's keep the sucky "vehicle courtship/flashback/endless drive through the desert"; the kids will be bored, or they'll be running up and down the aisles, or they'll be demanding to be taken to the bathroom for the fifth time.

Will you see this movie if you don't have a kid to accompany you? My six-year-old nephew, who loved EIGHT BELOW and DUMA, is psyched for opening day, but I'm bracing myself for the second viewing.

Another nephew, who's three, is clamoring for Cars. But he's never been to a movie theatre. Right now he's happily obsessed with Toy Story 2 (not Toy Story). For him, it's as though cinema's first chapter has been written not by Disney, but by Pixar. Yet he experiences the DVD of Toy Story 2 not as continuous narrative but as selected, favorite scenes and songs watched over and over.

Randy Newman, you have a lot to answer for.

United 93's Euro-Pacifist Passenger

united93_230957.jpg

By the end of UNITED 93, it seemed most critics were too shattered to mention the one off-key note in this superb but almost unbearable to watch thriller: the portrayal of one passenger-- the ginger-haired German-accented man--on the doomed flight as not merely unwilling to participate in the uprising against the hijackers, but arguing "We should talk to them! What about...Mogadishu? What about...Somalia."

Which left me thinking: What is this guy talking about? Why now?

Gosh, I thought UNITED 93 was a docudrama. I hadn't realized that in addition to the four hijackers someone else aboard the plane was a great big pussy.

It turns out that the German guy-who was, like all the other people portrayed in the film, a real person-was not actually, as the Guardian puts it, a "surrender monkey."

Director Paul Greengrass, who has made several superior docudramas about justice denied and deferred (THE MURDER OF STEPHEN LAWRENCE, OMAGH, BLOODY SUNDAY), said (in interviews and in theatrical trailer-previews) that he'd gained the cooperation of the families of those killed on the doomed flight that set off from Newark airport on Sept. 11.

But the Guardian reports that Silke Adams, the widow of Christian Adams is "believed to have refused to cooperate on the film, saying that the memory of her husband's death was still too raw. This has left the film open to charges that Adams has been set up as the story's fall guy, the token cowardly German amid a band of brave Americans."

"United 93 is based on transcripts from the phone calls made by the passengers on board the plane, but much of the drama was improvised on set. "Surely one of the passengers didn't phone home to point out that there was a cowardly German on board who wanted to give in?" wondered the Sunday Times critic Cosmo Landesman. So far there is no evidence to suggest that Christian Adams did not support the other passengers, or refused to storm the cockpit."

I don't know where that "believed to" comes from, or how it can be substantiated, but the Adams of the film does stand out -- not as a pacifist but as kind of a 'tard who learns that the crew and other passengers have been murdered 20 feet away from him, sees their blood on his seatmates clothing, yet still thinks it's time for a chat.

Indiewire's Anthony Kaufman saw United 93 at the Tribeca Film Festival in May and was as perplexed by portrayal of the Euro-Pacifist. When he cited this as a major flaw in the film, he took a beating from respondents on Alter-Net.

As moved as I was by UNITED 93, I agree with Anthony, even though he told me he thought that the pacifist was Dutch. Look, AK--you've got to get down with your Northern European stereotypes: the Dutch are treacherous, kinky collaborators, the Germans are either treacherous Nazis, treacherous collaborators, or treacherous pork-eating perverts

Oh, I kid. Except about the pork and perversion.

Something about United 93's brief portrayal of a Euro-wussy amid the ordinary Americans turned everyday heroes - reeked of bullshit in a film that was otherwise so powerfully factual. ( Somalia: WTF? Why bring up that mess when there's a gun in your face?)

After I'd seen the film, I talked to Anthony about "that European guy" -- I found it hard to believe that that Greengrass, having gotten the cooperation of all the UA93 families, would honor this man, Christian Adams, a wine importer on a business trip to the U.S., by letting actor Erich Redman portray him as a clueless man who would cave. (It's not that ordinary people, when taken hostage in other situations, haven't cowered or behaved out of craven self-interest--attempting to bargain or using other hostages as shields. But in all the accounts of UA93, where was the mention of Adams' saying anything like "we should see what these hijackers want?")

Again from the Guardian, here's the actor's interpretation of his role, which was developed through on-set improvisation.

"Redman said that he based his performance on an interview he read with a former colleague of Christian Adams. "He never made any rash decisions and everything he did was always well-considered," he said. "I think he would have said, 'Let's not do this, let's be quiet, let's not interfere with [the terrorists], because once we have landed the authorities will take care of it. I think that's quite a reasonable thing to say." Redman added that Adams was "not one of those gung-ho Americans wanting to storm the cockpit and smash those people's skulls in."

Both Anthony and I were puzzled at the actions of "Mr. Adams" as the burliest male passengers and surviving flight attendants make their move: The actor leaps up from his seat yelling "No!" before being shushed and restrained by other passengers. Neither one of us could figure out if "Adams" was attempting to warn the hijackers (and if so, why) or if he was merely freaking out from the stress of the hijacking. A little late, if he was. Greengrass's movie--following the 9/11 report and other news sources--shows that by then, the other passengers were well past panic, so clear were they in their their thoughts and action. They seemed to be in a frame of mind that almost beyond death.

Did you ever hear, in any of the reports of what happened on that flight, of a passenger who protested so emphatically?

As we all know (or should know, unless we want to subscribe to ridiculous conspiracy theories), the passengers on UA93, the flight from Newark-San Francisco-having witnessed or been informed of mayhem in the first-class cabin and the attack on the World Trade Center--had about 30 minutes to realize they were riding on a suicide mission. Not every passenger stood up to retake the plane, according to the last phone calls made to their families) but surely they all knew, and understood, that as a group, they were going to die. Yet they selflessly chose to attempt to divert the plane's path. Whether they were seated, running forward, or breaking down the door (and even if they didn't, as the film shows it, get inside the cockpit), their resistance is inspiring.

What remains haunting about that day, and about Greengrass' film, is how swiftly these ordinary people moved from their ordinary lives into an understanding of that their lives were ending--and an understanding that in their last minutes, they would do something brave and terrible. How uncomfortable UNITED 93 becomes as the passengers, who were strangers only an hour before, turn out to be as bloody minded as those who would kill them all.

To set up the non-American passenger as a phony obstacle to their heroism-is insulting. Even the four hijackers got a more humane portrayal.

June 06, 2006

Damien, Denied: THE OMEN Remake

damien1.jpg

Is it wrong to hate a child?

That's how I felt about the child actor (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick) cast as the new Damien in the remake of THE OMEN. So distractingly smirky is this little anti-Christ, his infant version seems cry and wail in six-six-six part harmony. Draw a little El-Marko moustache on his movie poster image (and I'm sure some of you all ready have already done so), slick down his black bowl haircut, and he looks like a kindergarten Hitler.

If only this kid had been given a chance to be scary rather than annoying.

Young Harvey Stephens, the cherub-faced boy who portrayed the Devil's son in the 1976 movie, said but a few lines in the original thriller. The first indication of his evil nature was an his naughty, secret wave "hello" to a slobbering demon-dog at his fifth birthday party. The second sign was Richard Donner's priceless shot of the boy's face when he realizes he's being carted off to a wedding--in an Anglican church. (The psycho-pout of Damien denied - and the tantrum that follows--is all too familar to babysitters and parents everywhere.)

Though director John Moore has displayed a commanding visual style in TK, this horror remake essentially follows the original script - but hits every harder and louder. At Damien's fifth birthday party, when the boy's first nanny takes a long, cursed leap off a short window ledge to make way for an evil new guardian, not only do we get several shots of her lifeless body crashing through a window below (same as in the 1976 movie), but we get a gratuitiously suggestive shot of her stockinged foot going slack, THEN losing a shoe, THEN the shoe falling another story or two till it goes SMASH into a crystal punchbowl filled with blood-red punch. Then the crystal cracks and the punch spills all over the white tablecloth. Subtle!

At which point I thought: Frickin' awesome! I haven't seen a buffet table so abused since that guy jumped into to the wedding cake in the Guns N Roses "November Rain" video. And why did that guy do that, by the way? Was he so frightened of the rain that he was taking cover, and he misjudged his leap? Or did he think, "The whole wedding's shot to hell because of the rain, this marriage between Axl and Stephanie Seymour is clearly doomed, I've never before had a chance to jump into a wedding cake: Therefore I shall jump."

If you have a theory, please write.

When an apocalyptic thriller lets a horror fan's mind enough to think not just of the superior original, but of a Guns N Roses video from 14 years ago, that's not a good sign.

Of all the talented actors in the cast, I didn't sense a deep engagement, except in the performance of Mia Farrow, who seemed to enjoy dishing out some payback for the crap she took while making Rosemary's Baby.

I counted exactly one moment when I was truly startled: during a dream sequence that looks like a a Satanic ad for Calvin Klein's Obsession.

Nice one.

I screamed. And then laughed my head off because 1) that cheap thing-in-the-mirror-scare gets me every time (even in the awful Amityville Horror remake) 2) I love and hate to be scared 3) I heard several male critics scream like girls, too. Don't deny it.

By the way, Harvey Stephens, now in his late 30s and rather handsome, makes a brief, jokey appearance in the remake as a tabloid newspaper reporter on the steps of the U.S. Embassy in London. (I think his line is something like, "Mr. Thorne, what do you say to reports that the nanny was on drugs?" He's the last of the three nuisance-journalists to bother Liev Shrieber, who plays the hero.
If you have a theory, please write.

What I'm saying is: when an apocalyptic thriller lets a horror fan's mind enough to think not just of the superior original, but of a Guns N Roses video from 14 years ago, that's not a good sign.

Of all the talented actors in the cast, I didn't sense a deep engagement, except in the performance of Mia Farrow, who seemed to enjoy dishing out some payback for the crap she took while making Rosemary's Baby.

I counted exactly one moment when I was truly startled: during a dream sequence that looks like a a Satanic for Calvin Klein's Obsession.

Fox Movie Channel and other basic cable nets are working THE OMEN trilogy week. John Patterson gets all hot and bothered the third entry, THE FINAL CONFLICT. In case you've forgotten, the demon-spawn movies go like this:

The Omen (1976) Gregory Peck, Lee Remick, adorable little Damien.

The Omen 2 (1978) Adolescent Damien--who bears no resemblance to his younger self-- is adopted by U.S. President, gets jealous of his better looking, smarter cousin, goes to military school where the headmaster is a v. strict but not strict enough Lance Henriksen.

The Omen III: The Final Conflict (1981) Sam Neill is Damien and he's ridiculously hot. Is it me or is the Apocalypse seeming kind of sexy?

Omen IV: The Awakening (1991) I believe the explains-it-all subtitle for this TV movie was "This Time Damien's a Little Girl." Basically a Lifetime telefilm with black candles and sharper knives.

June 02, 2006

When Print Critics Get Erased

When daily print critics get erased, do movie audiences disappear, too?

Or does the average daily newspaper critic (see photo at right) using the time-honored critical method (see photo at right) offer anything more than a predictable Friday beatdown of whatever genre movie wasn't screened early enough for them to respect?

Isn't everybody who cares about what critics think already turning to the many excellent alt-weekly and online film critics -- professional and non-professional -- who post informed, funny, vibrant, sometimes deranged opinions?

Anne Thompson of the The Hollywood Reporter writes today about the effect that critics can have on specialty (meaning arthouse) films, and mentions the recent ousting, or re-assigning of some prominent film critics. Three of the best are:

Jami Bernard, New York Daily News.
Michael Wilmington, the Chicago Tribune.
Charles Taylor, one of Salon's original film critics, and one of the most knowledgeable and passionate writers about the arts.

Anne Thompson mentions the buyout/retirement of Kevin Thomas. I don't believe his departure has undercut the arts coverage in the Los Angeles Times. For years, Thomas rarely encountered a movie he couldn't summarize and, like a proud godparent, say something far too nice about.

Sony Classics executive Tom Bernard says the changes have effected ticket sales for arthouse and specialty films in Boston, Seattle and Miami.

"When audiences lose faith in a paper," says Bernard, "they end up doing something else."

Yes, they stop reading and subscribing to the print edition of the newspaper. And they don't want to go to the movies because 1) the theaters, no matter how new they are, reek of human funk, Cheez Wiz and microwaved popcorn (see this Sunday's Observer: Peter Bradshaw goes off on movie "munchers") and 2) even if the some movie sounds interesting, it's not so interesting you can't wait three months to see it on DVD.
I'll leave it to David Poland to talk about whether or how much theater attendance figures are down. Surely it can't help that big cities have fewer screens showing art and true independent films.
If your hometown has anywere to see decent movies, where do you go?
Who do you read?

I read and recommend

Stephanie Zacharek (Salon.com)

Dennis Lim, the Village Voice. (I look for Jessica Winter's reviews there, too.

Peter Keough, The Boston Phoenix.

Matt Zoller Seitz, The Newark Star-Ledger, New York Press and his blog, The House Next Door.

Charles Taylor, The Newark Star-Ledger, the New York Observer).

Kim Morgan, Sunset Gun.

The Onion's A.V. Club

Scott Foundas, LA Weekly.

Ty Burr, Boston Globe. I read Burr when he was at the Boston Phoenix and when he was the video critic at Entertainment Weekly and their tribute go-to guy. I didn't discover the Globe's Wesley Morrisuntil 2005 year, but I liked the way he tore into Crash, early and often, and wouldn't let it go during Oscar season. If those columns are archived, read them.

Josh Rothkopf, Time Out New York and Cliff Doerksen,Time Out Chicago



The King
Joe Bob Briggs aka John Bloom of The Joe Bob ReportThe pre-eminent scholar of Drive-In movies and all the cinema you missed out on because you were too busy giving or receiving oral sex during the show. A strong influence on my critical thinking. Joe Bob allowed me to see (Predator 2 in a new way. I found the sequel lyrical, profound, a delicious clash of manners and technique.)


Killer Intellectuals

Kent Jones, Gavin Smith, Chris Chang of Film Comment

If film critics formed street gangs like the ones in The Warriors, these guys would be the Baseball Furies: the facepainted Mets fans wielding three bats tied together. Not as scary as they think they are, but they could everyone's asses. If they ever left their neighborhood.


Jonathan Rosenbaum of The Chicago Reader

When the subject is French New Wave cinema, his are the essays to read. Other times, I have no idea what he's saying.

Good enough to steal from

Peter Sobcynski, Hollywood Bitchslap: Known for his generous wit and a weakness for Milla Jovovich movies, he's the most plagiarized-from writer since Oscar Wilde.

The Man Who Has Seen It All

Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times

Forget the thumbs-up/thumbs-up down business and the fucktard on the TV show. Ebert's web site has 25 years of excellent criticism - and critical re-examinations - of nearly every movie that's been released in North American theaters.

For a never-published story, I used his site's search function and found his average grade for movies to somewhere between two and three stars (on a four-star scale). I made a bar graph, showed it to Ebert and remarked that it looked as he'd been giving a higher average grade in recent years - Closer to three stars. He's the first to say he's gotten mellower -- but it's possible (he's said this in many interviews and he said this to me) that overall, movies are more good than bad. He's one of the lucky people who gets to see the good ones.


"My biggest regret is that we'd gone with five stars instead of four -- that way the middle grade wouldn't be a half-star."
But, Ebert said, his first editor wanted a four-star scale and that's what he was stuck with.