The first marathon Saturday at Indiefest, 5 shows after getting home (to San Jose) sometime around 4 am. (note to self: get a hotel room in the city next weekend.)
First up was a program of Uncanny Shorts: Past and Present, experimental shorts and a conversation with Mary Helena Clark and Lynn Hershman. I will first confess that generally experimental works are not my cup of tea, but in an effort to see everything (or as close to everything as I can get) I embraced this program.
First up, a selection of shorts by Mary Helena Clark:
AND THE SUN FLOWERS: A close-up shot of her wallpaper, with digital alteration effects to make the static shot seem subtly, strangely alive. Also had a voice-over segment, but I've completely forgotten what the voice said.
SOUND OVER WATER: This time the effects and manipulation were inherently film-based instead of digital. Colors suggestive of (like the title) light dancing on water (if I recall the Q&A correctly, some of the original footage was actually birds in flight against the blue sky.) Ending with a series of still photos from a whale-watching trip. The photos (from a friend's first experience with a camera) were the inspiration for the piece.
BY FOOT-CANDLE LIGHT: This one I actually liked quite a bit, because it was a sort of exploration of the space and act of exhibiting work. I.e., it was about the act of being an audience. So it was kind of about me. And I like things that are about me.
And then Lynn Hershman's film DESIRE, INC made an interesting counterpoint. Back in the '80s, Hershman produced a series of ads featuring no product--just a sexy model inviting viewers to call in and respond. And she made this documentary showcasing the ads, some respondents, and commentary by herself (e.g., "Mass communication is masked communication) and others. A fascinating look at making mass media interactive, an experiment that maybe presaged (but would be redundant now in) the Internet/social media world.
The conversation afterwards was interesting, if a little film theory-geeky. Mostly talking about narrative and the nature of watching. Or, at least, that's mostly what I remember about it.
Next up, it was time to BE GOOD with this movie by and about a new father/indie filmmaker. Reversing traditional gender roles, Paul stays at home and tries to write his newest script while taking care of his 6-month old daughter Pearl. Meanwhile his wife Mary goes to work and actually supports the family. But there's never any talk of traditional gender roles, that's jut the subtext and it's immediately accepted that they're a modern couple who doesn't have to fill the roles. Of course, there are issues like Mary pumping her breast milk in the storage room (what, she can't do that in the bathroom? My only thought was maybe there wasn't a convenient power outlet in there.) Or there's the fact that Paul simply can't get much writing done during Pearl's (extremely brief) naps. Or that Mary desperately misses time with her daughter, and how the whole situation is straining their relationship. Then there's the side plot of a guy who scams Paul out of $20 with a sob story, and Paul trying to hunt him down and confront him (including a rather traumatic point that was telegraphed a bit too much.) But mostly it's an interesting look at the life of two new parents that never gets too strident and weepy nor does it get into slapstick "Mr. Mom" territory. It's just sort of...working to make it to the next day...much like some new parents I've known.
Oh, and the most important part is that Pearl (played by director Todd Looby's real infant daughter) is totally adorable. As is their dog. Oh, and Joe Swanberg (director of the closing night film ALL THE LIGHT IN THE SKY and a Roxie series immediately after the festival) shows up as himself (and the example of a new father who continues to be a prolific filmmaker.)
So I didn't think about it at the time, but the theme of fatherhood actually plays into the next film, the Cronenbergian sci-fi horror flick ANTIVIRAL. In fact, more than Cronenbergian, it's a Cronenberg film--Brandon Cronenberg, an apple that didn't fall far from his father David ("Master of Venereal Horror") Cronenberg's tree. If I were David Cronenberg, I would pat Brandon on the head and say, "That's pretty good...for a first try." Of course, like most creators of sick and twisted art, David is probably in real life a really nice guy who loves his son and supports and encourages everything he does. It's just, as a fan I'd like to see how much sicker Brandon could get in trying to impress his dad. Because the fact is, he's already surpassed his father in sick weirdness his first feature.
In the near future, celebrity worship has gotten so intense that people go to clinics to get infected with diseases that celebrities have had (not just disease, mind you, but the germs/viruses grown directly from the ones that infected the celebrity.) Or, they'd go to the shops to buy slabs of meat grown from celebrities' muscle cells. Kind of cannibalism...but the meat is just grown in big trays, it's not like actually cutting a steak from the flesh of a person. And it's what the people want. Syd March works at a clinic that has an exclusive deal with superstar Hannah Geist. He also smuggles diseases out of the clinic (by infecting himself) and sells them on the black market. One problem, the latest bug that Hannah caught and he has infected himself with...is killing her. And it will soon kill him, too. And so he enters an even weirder world of corporate espionage to find the source of the disease and (hopefully) the cure. If this was played for a joke, the joke would've gotten old well before the film was even halfway through. But because it's played so seriously, it ends up just getting sicker and sicker all the way through to the absolutely sublimely repulsive ending. Awesome!
And then for a little horror that was played for laughs. SIGHTSEERS is the latest from Ben Wheatley, whose dark comedy DOWN TERRACE and dark not-at-all-comedy KILL LIST played in previous Indiefests. He's back in comedy form now with this romantic comedy road movie. Tina is dating a new man, Chris, and they decide to go off on holiday to visit England's numerous tourist destination (e.g., historic tramways, parks, etc.) And then he kills a guy just for littering. And she's a bit shocked, but after some thought...she likes it. So they go on a bizarre spree of vengeance against minuscule slights. But disagreements over who deserves punishment might just wreck their little utopia. Funny and bloody, and I absolutely loved the ending.
And then, for the 10th year in a row Indiefest hosted their Big Lebowski party. This time it moved from CellSpace to the more intimate venue of 518 Valencia. So they had to pare down some of the bigger pieces--no trampoline, no swing. But plenty of White Russians and people in costume. I say this nearly every year, but it always amazes me how much effort people put into celebrating a movie about a slacker. If you try that hard, you're very un-dude. Really, the most dude thing you could do is skip the party, skip the movie, stay home, drink, smoke pot, and eventually go bowling. But who cares about being dude when there's a party and a movie?
Around about midnight the party moved into the Roxie for the costume contest, and finally a screening of a gorgeous new 35 mm print of the film itself, THE BIG LEBOWSKI. I've seen it many times. Even seen it on the big screen many times. Heck, I was one of the few people who saw it in its initial release back in 1998. But seeing it last Saturday night, with an enthusiastic audience cheering all their favorite lines was just magical. If you're a "true" cinephile who insists people shut the fuck up (Donny!) and just watch the damn movie, this was not the event for you. But if you were full of white russians (Or oat sodas. Or a combination of both...like I was) it was a night to just have a blast.
And that was the first Saturday at Indiefest 2013.
Total Running Time: 443 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,876
Monday, February 11, 2013
Jason goes to Indiefest--Day 2
Three movies last Friday night, as Indiefest gets in full swing
First up was this wonderful Sardinian oddity, THE LEGEND OF KASPAR HAUSER. It's kind of important to know the true story of Kaspar Hauser, otherwise you'll just be lost in the weirdness. Even with a brief and very informative introduction by festival programmer Kier-La Janisse I still get lost in the weirdness, and I loved it. It's shot in Italy, but set in place X, time Y, and opens with a shot of UFO's flying overhead. Vincent Gallo practically hijacks the movie with his dual roles as a rockstar-sheriff and drug pusher. Kaspar Hauser (played by Silvia Calderoni in a bit of gender-bending casting.) And it's powered by an overbearing and fittingly inappropriate electronic music soundtrack. Time means nothing, place means nothing, gender means nothing, everything you see and hear is a lie, and yet the Legend is still true. You know, every year I designate one film as my "reward for seeing everything"--the movie I had no idea what to expect going in and ended up loving. It's never happened before, but maybe this year I found my reward for seeing everything in my second screening.
Not to be outdone, the next film was also from Italy, also very weird, and also brilliant. BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO stars Toby Jones as Gilderoy an English sound mixer brought in by eccentric Italian director Santini to work his magic on his film. He didn't know what to expect, but discovers that he's actually working on a horror film...check that, it's not a horror film, it's a Santini film! Or, to be specific about the genre, it's a giallo--that particular style of Italian horror thriller, with it's distinct style, look, and (especially important for this film) sound. And as Gilderoy starts working on the film as a fish out of water (both as an Englishman living and working in Italy and as a non-horror fan working in horror) life starts imitating art. He's browbeaten by the heavy-handed producer and soon the line between his work and his life starts blurring. But this doesn't exactly go where you'd expect a horror film to go. Sometimes it's tedious and pointless to dissect genre, and this might be a case of that. But I think it's useful to point out that while it's steeped in giallo style, it doesn't fall into the easy thriller cliches. There isn't a sinister killer/monster stalking him. It's more of a character study--one man isolated with his thoughts, immersed in his work until that's all there is.
And finally, I ended the night with an old (1972) super-sleazy exploitation flick, TOYS ARE NOT FOR CHILDREN (part of programmer Kier-La's spotlight on her new book, HOUSE OF PSYCHOTIC WOMEN.) Jamie (Marcia Forbes) is a young lady with an absentee father whom her mother denigrates as worthless scum who spends all his time with whores. All she gets from him is regular gifts of toys, which she idolizes and fetishizes while dreaming about her father. Seriously, in the opening scene she's fucking a toy solider that was a present from him. And it gets weirder and sleazier from there. A loveless marriage, a friendship with a prostitute named Pearl, and an ingenious plan to become a prostitute herself in order to find her father. Nobody really gets away clean in this movie...including the audience. A great way to end the night.
Total Running Time: 271 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,433
First up was this wonderful Sardinian oddity, THE LEGEND OF KASPAR HAUSER. It's kind of important to know the true story of Kaspar Hauser, otherwise you'll just be lost in the weirdness. Even with a brief and very informative introduction by festival programmer Kier-La Janisse I still get lost in the weirdness, and I loved it. It's shot in Italy, but set in place X, time Y, and opens with a shot of UFO's flying overhead. Vincent Gallo practically hijacks the movie with his dual roles as a rockstar-sheriff and drug pusher. Kaspar Hauser (played by Silvia Calderoni in a bit of gender-bending casting.) And it's powered by an overbearing and fittingly inappropriate electronic music soundtrack. Time means nothing, place means nothing, gender means nothing, everything you see and hear is a lie, and yet the Legend is still true. You know, every year I designate one film as my "reward for seeing everything"--the movie I had no idea what to expect going in and ended up loving. It's never happened before, but maybe this year I found my reward for seeing everything in my second screening.
Not to be outdone, the next film was also from Italy, also very weird, and also brilliant. BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO stars Toby Jones as Gilderoy an English sound mixer brought in by eccentric Italian director Santini to work his magic on his film. He didn't know what to expect, but discovers that he's actually working on a horror film...check that, it's not a horror film, it's a Santini film! Or, to be specific about the genre, it's a giallo--that particular style of Italian horror thriller, with it's distinct style, look, and (especially important for this film) sound. And as Gilderoy starts working on the film as a fish out of water (both as an Englishman living and working in Italy and as a non-horror fan working in horror) life starts imitating art. He's browbeaten by the heavy-handed producer and soon the line between his work and his life starts blurring. But this doesn't exactly go where you'd expect a horror film to go. Sometimes it's tedious and pointless to dissect genre, and this might be a case of that. But I think it's useful to point out that while it's steeped in giallo style, it doesn't fall into the easy thriller cliches. There isn't a sinister killer/monster stalking him. It's more of a character study--one man isolated with his thoughts, immersed in his work until that's all there is.
And finally, I ended the night with an old (1972) super-sleazy exploitation flick, TOYS ARE NOT FOR CHILDREN (part of programmer Kier-La's spotlight on her new book, HOUSE OF PSYCHOTIC WOMEN.) Jamie (Marcia Forbes) is a young lady with an absentee father whom her mother denigrates as worthless scum who spends all his time with whores. All she gets from him is regular gifts of toys, which she idolizes and fetishizes while dreaming about her father. Seriously, in the opening scene she's fucking a toy solider that was a present from him. And it gets weirder and sleazier from there. A loveless marriage, a friendship with a prostitute named Pearl, and an ingenious plan to become a prostitute herself in order to find her father. Nobody really gets away clean in this movie...including the audience. A great way to end the night.
Total Running Time: 271 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,433
Friday, February 8, 2013
Jason goes to Indiefest--Opening Night
It's the 15th annual SF Indiefest, and they're calling it their Quinceañera celebration.
I don't mean to be nitpicky or to inject math into the celebration, but technically the start of the 15th annual festival means it has only been around 14 years. It started in 1999. In 2000--one year after the founding festival--they held the 2nd Indiefest. The third Indiefest was in 2001--2 years after the first festival. Most importantly, in 2002 they had the 4th Indiefest, and the first one I attended. So as far as I'm concerned, we should start counting from there. Happy 11 years since I started attending Indiefest! (making this my 12th one)
In any case, everybody gets this wrong (a couple of years ago when Cinequest held it's 21st festival, they claimed they were finally old enough to drink. I pointed out A: not really, and B: that never stopped them before.) And I'd rather party than do math, so happy Quinceañera, Indiefest!
The festival opened with Michel Gondry's new film, THE WE AND THE I. At first it seems like kind of a departure for Gondry (ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP) as he puts aside his magic realism and goes for an intimate, improvised look at the lives of high school kids on the bus. But there are, in their own ways, flashes of his magic and sense of humor in there. Kids hurry excitedly out of school, grab their cell phones from the local convenience store (a friend of mine explained that in NY cell phones are banned from school, so the kids will pay a couple of bucks for the local corner store to hold onto their phones so they can get them as soon as their out of school. Interesting phenomenon.) They get on the bus, and they immediately start acting like kids. I.e., assholes (or victims of assholes.) This is the "WE" part of the title. Mob mentality, bullies, showing off for friends. The "I" comes later, as we get more revealing glimpses into the characters. But the WE was unpleasant enough for me to hate the I before I ever met it. I'm sorry, but I know I have a bit of a block when it comes to kids being jerks. I think it's understandable, as I was (still am) a nerd whose last name is a slang term for penis. I don't need to be reminded of how awful high school kids are. And if I am reminded, I am unlikely to later sympathize with them in any way. I could tell it was an interesting, well made project. And many times the entire audience (including myself) laughed. And everybody else seemed to have more enlightening things to say about the movie. But my only takeaway was that kids are awful, awful human beings.
And then I stuck around for the party. Had a little beer, talked to a few friends, marveled at the huge crowd there (I'm sure ~80% of them I won't see again in the festival.) Watched the band play for a while. Had another beer. And eventually they ran out of beer, so I decided my work there was done (even though there was still wine and liquor there. But it's a long festival and I gotta pace myself.) So I headed back to BART and eventually home. Apparently if I had stayed a little longer I could've seen Barry Zito play guitar.
By the way, there was also a last minute addition to the festival, a one time only screening of FACES IN THE MIRROR. I had seen everything that played at Indiefest since my first year--even in years when that was impossible. But this year...Indiefest just isn't set up that way. This is the first either/or decision I've had to make in my festival schedule, but it won't be my last. A bit of an end-of-an-era for me. I won't quite be able to definitively say what the best film in the festival was this year. And I can't claim to be "the guy who sees everything at Indiefest" anymore (but at least no one else can, either.) And, for the record, a friend whose opinions on movies I trust reasonably well told me I made the right choice.
Running Time: 103 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,162
I don't mean to be nitpicky or to inject math into the celebration, but technically the start of the 15th annual festival means it has only been around 14 years. It started in 1999. In 2000--one year after the founding festival--they held the 2nd Indiefest. The third Indiefest was in 2001--2 years after the first festival. Most importantly, in 2002 they had the 4th Indiefest, and the first one I attended. So as far as I'm concerned, we should start counting from there. Happy 11 years since I started attending Indiefest! (making this my 12th one)
In any case, everybody gets this wrong (a couple of years ago when Cinequest held it's 21st festival, they claimed they were finally old enough to drink. I pointed out A: not really, and B: that never stopped them before.) And I'd rather party than do math, so happy Quinceañera, Indiefest!
The festival opened with Michel Gondry's new film, THE WE AND THE I. At first it seems like kind of a departure for Gondry (ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP) as he puts aside his magic realism and goes for an intimate, improvised look at the lives of high school kids on the bus. But there are, in their own ways, flashes of his magic and sense of humor in there. Kids hurry excitedly out of school, grab their cell phones from the local convenience store (a friend of mine explained that in NY cell phones are banned from school, so the kids will pay a couple of bucks for the local corner store to hold onto their phones so they can get them as soon as their out of school. Interesting phenomenon.) They get on the bus, and they immediately start acting like kids. I.e., assholes (or victims of assholes.) This is the "WE" part of the title. Mob mentality, bullies, showing off for friends. The "I" comes later, as we get more revealing glimpses into the characters. But the WE was unpleasant enough for me to hate the I before I ever met it. I'm sorry, but I know I have a bit of a block when it comes to kids being jerks. I think it's understandable, as I was (still am) a nerd whose last name is a slang term for penis. I don't need to be reminded of how awful high school kids are. And if I am reminded, I am unlikely to later sympathize with them in any way. I could tell it was an interesting, well made project. And many times the entire audience (including myself) laughed. And everybody else seemed to have more enlightening things to say about the movie. But my only takeaway was that kids are awful, awful human beings.
And then I stuck around for the party. Had a little beer, talked to a few friends, marveled at the huge crowd there (I'm sure ~80% of them I won't see again in the festival.) Watched the band play for a while. Had another beer. And eventually they ran out of beer, so I decided my work there was done (even though there was still wine and liquor there. But it's a long festival and I gotta pace myself.) So I headed back to BART and eventually home. Apparently if I had stayed a little longer I could've seen Barry Zito play guitar.
By the way, there was also a last minute addition to the festival, a one time only screening of FACES IN THE MIRROR. I had seen everything that played at Indiefest since my first year--even in years when that was impossible. But this year...Indiefest just isn't set up that way. This is the first either/or decision I've had to make in my festival schedule, but it won't be my last. A bit of an end-of-an-era for me. I won't quite be able to definitively say what the best film in the festival was this year. And I can't claim to be "the guy who sees everything at Indiefest" anymore (but at least no one else can, either.) And, for the record, a friend whose opinions on movies I trust reasonably well told me I made the right choice.
Running Time: 103 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,162
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Jason goes to Noir City--Day 9
Last Saturday at Noir City was Cornell Woolrich day and heavy drinking night. In fact, I'm just coming down from my hangover now. Gotta write this up before Indiefest starts.
STREET OF CHANCE (1942): A man (Burgess Meredith, young enough that he has dark hair!) gets knocked on the head by a falling beam. He's okay, he even knows who he is. Frank Thompson, office man and loyal husband. What he doesn't know is what he was doing in that part of town and why his hat and cigarette case are monogrammed DN. Well, it's a classic canard--the amnesia plot--but one of the first times it was ever used. Turns out a little over a year ago he lost his memory and became Danny Nearing. And now Danny Nearing is wanted for murder, but he doesn't know anything about it. A kinda wacky, twisty plot that was lots of fun (even if I guessed the ending in advance.) It even features an old, bedridden grandmother (Adeline De Walt Reynolds) who communicates by blinking her eyes!
THE CHASE (1946): Ex-navy man Chuck Scott (Robert Cumming) is so honest, when he finds a wallet on the ground he just takes a couple of bucks to pay for breakfast (he's really hungry) and returns it to the owner, even promising to make up the money he took somehow. Turns out, the owner is Eddie Roman (Steve Cochran,) a local gangster who decides he really likes Chuck and will make him his new chauffeur. His henchman (the always great Peter Lorre) doesn't like it one bit. But his wife Lorna (Michele Morgan) likes it just fine. Not only is Chuck handsome, but he might just be her ticket out of Miami--all the way to Havana. The middle part gets really weird (SPOILER ALERT: it all turns out to be a dream sequence) but the ending is pretty cool. And it features a crazy car with a gas pedal in the back so Eddie can control the speed while the driver just concentrates on steering.
THE WINDOW (1949): And finally, I ended the film-watching portion of the day with this Boy-who-cried-wolf story starring little Bobby Driscoll. He plays Tommy Woodry, who is constantly getting himself and his family in trouble with his tall tales (they almost lose their apartment when he tells his friends their moving to a ranch in Texas.) But when he actually witnesses a murder while sleeping on the fire escape, nobody believes him (shades of REAR WINDOW, also from a Cornell Woolrich story.) Wacky hijinx ensue, featuring Arthur Kennedy and Barbara Hale as Tommy's parents. Paul Stewart and Ruth Roman as the neighbors from hell. And an exciting finale in a condemned building.
Then I had a filling, leisurely dinner, knowing I was about to pollute my stomach (and blood stream) with massive quantities of alcohol, because it was time for the Noir City Nightclub. What a party! Awesome people, music (including Erin Brazil and the Brazillionaires with their "Hitchcock Suite"), performances (including international burlesque star Evie Lovelle), and lots and lots of alcohol. I learned pretty quickly which bartender made the best (i.e., strongest) bourbon and soda. And the night was off!
I skipped Noir City Sunday to nurse my hangover and watch the Super Bowl, thereby creating a new hangover. Monday was kind of hellish. And here we are now.
Total Running Time: 233 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,059
STREET OF CHANCE (1942): A man (Burgess Meredith, young enough that he has dark hair!) gets knocked on the head by a falling beam. He's okay, he even knows who he is. Frank Thompson, office man and loyal husband. What he doesn't know is what he was doing in that part of town and why his hat and cigarette case are monogrammed DN. Well, it's a classic canard--the amnesia plot--but one of the first times it was ever used. Turns out a little over a year ago he lost his memory and became Danny Nearing. And now Danny Nearing is wanted for murder, but he doesn't know anything about it. A kinda wacky, twisty plot that was lots of fun (even if I guessed the ending in advance.) It even features an old, bedridden grandmother (Adeline De Walt Reynolds) who communicates by blinking her eyes!
THE CHASE (1946): Ex-navy man Chuck Scott (Robert Cumming) is so honest, when he finds a wallet on the ground he just takes a couple of bucks to pay for breakfast (he's really hungry) and returns it to the owner, even promising to make up the money he took somehow. Turns out, the owner is Eddie Roman (Steve Cochran,) a local gangster who decides he really likes Chuck and will make him his new chauffeur. His henchman (the always great Peter Lorre) doesn't like it one bit. But his wife Lorna (Michele Morgan) likes it just fine. Not only is Chuck handsome, but he might just be her ticket out of Miami--all the way to Havana. The middle part gets really weird (SPOILER ALERT: it all turns out to be a dream sequence) but the ending is pretty cool. And it features a crazy car with a gas pedal in the back so Eddie can control the speed while the driver just concentrates on steering.
THE WINDOW (1949): And finally, I ended the film-watching portion of the day with this Boy-who-cried-wolf story starring little Bobby Driscoll. He plays Tommy Woodry, who is constantly getting himself and his family in trouble with his tall tales (they almost lose their apartment when he tells his friends their moving to a ranch in Texas.) But when he actually witnesses a murder while sleeping on the fire escape, nobody believes him (shades of REAR WINDOW, also from a Cornell Woolrich story.) Wacky hijinx ensue, featuring Arthur Kennedy and Barbara Hale as Tommy's parents. Paul Stewart and Ruth Roman as the neighbors from hell. And an exciting finale in a condemned building.
Then I had a filling, leisurely dinner, knowing I was about to pollute my stomach (and blood stream) with massive quantities of alcohol, because it was time for the Noir City Nightclub. What a party! Awesome people, music (including Erin Brazil and the Brazillionaires with their "Hitchcock Suite"), performances (including international burlesque star Evie Lovelle), and lots and lots of alcohol. I learned pretty quickly which bartender made the best (i.e., strongest) bourbon and soda. And the night was off!
I skipped Noir City Sunday to nurse my hangover and watch the Super Bowl, thereby creating a new hangover. Monday was kind of hellish. And here we are now.
Total Running Time: 233 minutes
My Total Minutes: 313,059
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Jason goes to Noir City--Day 8
Now this was something new. A night of 3-D Noir. That's right, kids, 3-D isn't a new thing, it's been around since the 50's. In fact, it's been around a lot longer than that (although sometimes unintentionally.) And last night (Friday) was just a night of pure, good-ol' fun.
MAN IN THE DARK (1953):Steve Rawley (Edmond O'brien) is in jail for stealing $130,000. He undergoes an experimental procedure to remove the evil part of his brain in exchange for parole. It also removes his memory. Which is fine, in his new persona he's actually a nice guy. But it isn't fine when his old gang grabs him and whisks him away from the hospital. See, they want the loot, he's the only one who knows where he stashed it, and memory loss is a bad thing now. A fun caper with some charmingly old-school 3-D effects--spooky dangling spiders, punches thrown at the camera, a P.O.V. shot of surgeons going in to operate on your brain. Nice!
As an aside, all the 3-D effects last night pretty much break Jason's Rule of 3-D. But I actually found them pretty enjoyable instead of distracting (like most modern 3-D movies.) This was a different time and a different attitude with the effects. First, the story was still paramount and the effects were a fun little bonus. Second, they were playing around with the 3-D effects and seeing what they could do. They weren't throwing tons of CGI junk at the screen and trying to overwhelm you. A spider dangling in front of your eyes was impressive enough, so they just did that really well instead of bashing you over the head with the effect. I liked that a lot.
INFERNO (1953): And then the second film of the night might just be my favorite of the entire festival. Which is kind of blasphemy for film noir because not only was it in 3-D it was in color! But heck, it stars Rhonda Fleming, and those lips need to be seen in color. She plays Geraldine Carson, wife of millionaire Donald Carson (Robert Ryan) and secret lover of Joseph Duncan (William Lundigan.) They've hatched the "perfect" plot. Take Donald out to the desert to explore an investment in a manganese mine, then leave him there. He's a notorious alcoholic who has a habit of running away for days on end, so he'll die of thirst before anyone even starts looking for him. For good measure, get his horse to throw him and break his leg. Tell him you're going for help, never come back. The only problem--although Donald may be a rich boy who has never done hard work in his life, he's got a spirit that can rise to the challenge. He's not a lay-back-in-the-sun-and-die-of-thirst kinda guy. The scenes of him struggling down the canyon to a plateau where he can light a signal fire are epic. And the transitions from him struggling to survive to them enjoying the high life in Los Angeles are brilliant. Just all around an excellently crafted story, with just enough 3-D gags to justify the use of 3-D. Honestly, while the 3-D effects were kinda cool, I loved this for the story and it would still be great without the 3-D.
Total Running Time: 153 minutes
My Total Minutes: 312,826
MAN IN THE DARK (1953):Steve Rawley (Edmond O'brien) is in jail for stealing $130,000. He undergoes an experimental procedure to remove the evil part of his brain in exchange for parole. It also removes his memory. Which is fine, in his new persona he's actually a nice guy. But it isn't fine when his old gang grabs him and whisks him away from the hospital. See, they want the loot, he's the only one who knows where he stashed it, and memory loss is a bad thing now. A fun caper with some charmingly old-school 3-D effects--spooky dangling spiders, punches thrown at the camera, a P.O.V. shot of surgeons going in to operate on your brain. Nice!
As an aside, all the 3-D effects last night pretty much break Jason's Rule of 3-D. But I actually found them pretty enjoyable instead of distracting (like most modern 3-D movies.) This was a different time and a different attitude with the effects. First, the story was still paramount and the effects were a fun little bonus. Second, they were playing around with the 3-D effects and seeing what they could do. They weren't throwing tons of CGI junk at the screen and trying to overwhelm you. A spider dangling in front of your eyes was impressive enough, so they just did that really well instead of bashing you over the head with the effect. I liked that a lot.
INFERNO (1953): And then the second film of the night might just be my favorite of the entire festival. Which is kind of blasphemy for film noir because not only was it in 3-D it was in color! But heck, it stars Rhonda Fleming, and those lips need to be seen in color. She plays Geraldine Carson, wife of millionaire Donald Carson (Robert Ryan) and secret lover of Joseph Duncan (William Lundigan.) They've hatched the "perfect" plot. Take Donald out to the desert to explore an investment in a manganese mine, then leave him there. He's a notorious alcoholic who has a habit of running away for days on end, so he'll die of thirst before anyone even starts looking for him. For good measure, get his horse to throw him and break his leg. Tell him you're going for help, never come back. The only problem--although Donald may be a rich boy who has never done hard work in his life, he's got a spirit that can rise to the challenge. He's not a lay-back-in-the-sun-and-die-of-thirst kinda guy. The scenes of him struggling down the canyon to a plateau where he can light a signal fire are epic. And the transitions from him struggling to survive to them enjoying the high life in Los Angeles are brilliant. Just all around an excellently crafted story, with just enough 3-D gags to justify the use of 3-D. Honestly, while the 3-D effects were kinda cool, I loved this for the story and it would still be great without the 3-D.
Total Running Time: 153 minutes
My Total Minutes: 312,826
Friday, February 1, 2013
Jason goes to Noir City--Day 7
Is it just me, or have women been treated really badly in the films this week? Misogyny is a common feature of film noir, but last night (Thursday, or T-HERS-day) was the traditional day that women get even--it was Bad Girls Night at Noir City.
THE OTHER WOMAN (1954): After introducing me to the work of Hugo Haas with PICKUP last year, Noir City Bad Girls Night has become something of a Hugo Haas celebration. This more or less overlooked filmmaker is even enjoying (or, would be, if he were still alive) a resurgence in his homeland, the Czech Republic. He's often been accused of making the same movie over and over again--he plays the male lead who is tormented by some blond bombshell. Personally, that doesn't sound like too bad of a career. This time, he plays filmmaker Walter Darman (in a semi-autobiographical turn, he was hot stuff back in his home country and now making B-pictures in America.) The blond bombshell is model Sherry Steward (Cleo Moore.) Needing a fill-in for a minor role with just three lines, he gives Sherry her big chance. And she promptly blows it, embarrassing herself in front of everyone on set. Faced with the crushing humiliation of not being a brilliant actress in her first attempt, she decides to do the only sensible thing--seek revenge on the man who did this to her! Setups, blackmail, etc. I don't want to give away any spoilers, but I'll just say I loved how he mirrored the opening and closing shots. So if you do get a chance to see it, you kind of know how it will end based on the very first scene.
THE COME ON (1956): And then we had an extremely rare print (as in, the only 35 mm print known in existence) of this independently produced Sterling Hayden/Anne Baxter flick. Eddie described director Russell Birdwell as a filmmaker with practically no style. I beg to differ--the scene where the private detective practically fucks the mail slot with his blackmail letter has a definite, very specific sense of style...but maybe that's just a blind squirrel finding a nut. In any case, I'm getting ahead of myself. The movie opens with Rita (Anne Baxter) walking out of the ocean while Dave Arnold (Sterling Hayden) watches her. He approaches her, they talk, she offers him a cigarette, he rips the filter off...you know, film noir flirtation. The only problem--as we find out soon enough--is that she's married. Bigger problem--her husband (John Hoyt) is an abusive alcoholic. Bigger bigger problem [and SPOILER, so highlight to read] he's not really her husband, they're a con team [End Spoiler.] What fun!
The only other thing I wanted to say is that this was an example of a degraded, warped, "bad" film print (still, the only one of this film in existence.) Well, first let me give a big shout-out to the hard-working projectionist who did an admirable job keeping this warped print in focus through constant adjustments. Second, a few days ago, in my write-up of SUNSET BLVD, I made a challenge that the debate of "film vs. digital" should be expanded to "good film vs. bad film vs. good digital vs. bad digital." Now I've seen much worse damaged film than this before--mostly in either private collections or really old (i.e., silent era) films which are really badly damaged. But for the quality of this film, I'd still rather see it than a bad digital projection. A good (4K restoration) digital projection would in my mind be better, but good luck on that ever happening with this obscurity.
BTW, [HUGE SPOILER ALERT!!! Highlight to read.] I started by claiming this was the night for the girls to get even. But, in fact, both Bad Girls ended up murdered in their respective movies. So much for that, I guess misogyny still rules the day at Noir City. [End Spoiler.]
Total Running Time: 164 minutes
My Total Minutes: 312,674
THE OTHER WOMAN (1954): After introducing me to the work of Hugo Haas with PICKUP last year, Noir City Bad Girls Night has become something of a Hugo Haas celebration. This more or less overlooked filmmaker is even enjoying (or, would be, if he were still alive) a resurgence in his homeland, the Czech Republic. He's often been accused of making the same movie over and over again--he plays the male lead who is tormented by some blond bombshell. Personally, that doesn't sound like too bad of a career. This time, he plays filmmaker Walter Darman (in a semi-autobiographical turn, he was hot stuff back in his home country and now making B-pictures in America.) The blond bombshell is model Sherry Steward (Cleo Moore.) Needing a fill-in for a minor role with just three lines, he gives Sherry her big chance. And she promptly blows it, embarrassing herself in front of everyone on set. Faced with the crushing humiliation of not being a brilliant actress in her first attempt, she decides to do the only sensible thing--seek revenge on the man who did this to her! Setups, blackmail, etc. I don't want to give away any spoilers, but I'll just say I loved how he mirrored the opening and closing shots. So if you do get a chance to see it, you kind of know how it will end based on the very first scene.
THE COME ON (1956): And then we had an extremely rare print (as in, the only 35 mm print known in existence) of this independently produced Sterling Hayden/Anne Baxter flick. Eddie described director Russell Birdwell as a filmmaker with practically no style. I beg to differ--the scene where the private detective practically fucks the mail slot with his blackmail letter has a definite, very specific sense of style...but maybe that's just a blind squirrel finding a nut. In any case, I'm getting ahead of myself. The movie opens with Rita (Anne Baxter) walking out of the ocean while Dave Arnold (Sterling Hayden) watches her. He approaches her, they talk, she offers him a cigarette, he rips the filter off...you know, film noir flirtation. The only problem--as we find out soon enough--is that she's married. Bigger problem--her husband (John Hoyt) is an abusive alcoholic. Bigger bigger problem [and SPOILER, so highlight to read] he's not really her husband, they're a con team [End Spoiler.] What fun!
The only other thing I wanted to say is that this was an example of a degraded, warped, "bad" film print (still, the only one of this film in existence.) Well, first let me give a big shout-out to the hard-working projectionist who did an admirable job keeping this warped print in focus through constant adjustments. Second, a few days ago, in my write-up of SUNSET BLVD, I made a challenge that the debate of "film vs. digital" should be expanded to "good film vs. bad film vs. good digital vs. bad digital." Now I've seen much worse damaged film than this before--mostly in either private collections or really old (i.e., silent era) films which are really badly damaged. But for the quality of this film, I'd still rather see it than a bad digital projection. A good (4K restoration) digital projection would in my mind be better, but good luck on that ever happening with this obscurity.
BTW, [HUGE SPOILER ALERT!!! Highlight to read.] I started by claiming this was the night for the girls to get even. But, in fact, both Bad Girls ended up murdered in their respective movies. So much for that, I guess misogyny still rules the day at Noir City. [End Spoiler.]
Total Running Time: 164 minutes
My Total Minutes: 312,674
Jason goes to Noir City--Day 6
Wednesday was the every popular SF Noir night. Noir films set in (and shot in) the noirest of Noir Cities, San Francisco.
But first, in Tuesday's post I made this comment at the end of my review of NATIVE SON:
But getting back to NATIVE SON, what I realized I meant is that (in the story) the white man has free will while the black man is a victim of fate. And saying that make me...uncomfortable. I'll leave it to the reader to decide if that's true in the movie (or the novel, if you've read it.) And whether it was true of America at the time. And whether it's still true. And whether I'm racist for thinking it.
And now back to Wednesday's films, before I get into too much more trouble.
THE SNIPER (1952): One of the first modern serial killer movies, with nearly the best named villain ever--EddieMuller um...Miller (Arthur Franz.) It does a great job of presenting it from the point of view of the killer, a woman-hater who is tormented by his dark desires. So much so that he intentionally burns his own hand to keep himself from picking up his key, opening up his drawer, and grabbing his rifle. But such mitigations are only effective for so long, and when he doesn't get the psychiatric help he knows he needs, he starts shooting. A great story that focuses equally on the psychology of the killer and the police procedural for tracking him down (including some nice conflict between the police psychologist with his modern ideas and the traditional cops with their hard-nosed, 'round up all the usual suspects' approach.)
EXPERIMENT IN TERROR (1962): And then this wonderfully crafted, masterful suspense thriller from a man more famous for his comedies--Blake Edwards (and featuring music from his longtime collaborator Henry Mancini.) Lee Remick plays Kelly Sherwood, a bank teller in San Francisco. She is threatened by a mysterious criminal genius (Ross Martin) and forced to participate in a daring robbery of her own bank. Otherwise, he'll not only threaten her life but also her sister Toby (Stefanie Powers.) He's certainly done his homework, knowing where they both will be at any moment. John Ripley (Glenn Ford) is the crafty FBI agent matching wits with him. And what a battle of wits it is. Just awesome. And also, another practically perfect 4K digital restoration. I can tell you there wasn't a moment I was thinking about film vs. digital formats rather than thinking about the story.
As a special bonus, after each film, we were treated to a quick "Then and Now" video of SF locations we had just seen, courtesy of Reel SF.
Total Running Time: 220 minutes
My Total Minutes: 312,510
But first, in Tuesday's post I made this comment at the end of my review of NATIVE SON:
In most Noir, there's a moment (often several) when the doomed hero could have chosen to do the right thing and everything would have turned out better (if not all right, at least better.) In this case, although there were several chances to do the right thing, I never got the sense that things would have been better. The fact is, the moment the girl decided to be stupid and drunk around a black man, he was as good as dead.I sort of dashed that off quickly, but this thought stuck with me for the rest of the day. I realized I had actually made a pretty bold statement on the nature of free will vs. fate in film noir, something that could be the subject of numerous academic papers, books, etc. I came down pretty squarely on the side of free will, and the more I thought about it the more I decide that's probably a reflection of my personal outlook on life rather than a dominant feature of film noir (if anything, film noir is more often about the tension between free will and fate rather than coming down on one side or the other.)
But getting back to NATIVE SON, what I realized I meant is that (in the story) the white man has free will while the black man is a victim of fate. And saying that make me...uncomfortable. I'll leave it to the reader to decide if that's true in the movie (or the novel, if you've read it.) And whether it was true of America at the time. And whether it's still true. And whether I'm racist for thinking it.
And now back to Wednesday's films, before I get into too much more trouble.
THE SNIPER (1952): One of the first modern serial killer movies, with nearly the best named villain ever--Eddie
EXPERIMENT IN TERROR (1962): And then this wonderfully crafted, masterful suspense thriller from a man more famous for his comedies--Blake Edwards (and featuring music from his longtime collaborator Henry Mancini.) Lee Remick plays Kelly Sherwood, a bank teller in San Francisco. She is threatened by a mysterious criminal genius (Ross Martin) and forced to participate in a daring robbery of her own bank. Otherwise, he'll not only threaten her life but also her sister Toby (Stefanie Powers.) He's certainly done his homework, knowing where they both will be at any moment. John Ripley (Glenn Ford) is the crafty FBI agent matching wits with him. And what a battle of wits it is. Just awesome. And also, another practically perfect 4K digital restoration. I can tell you there wasn't a moment I was thinking about film vs. digital formats rather than thinking about the story.
As a special bonus, after each film, we were treated to a quick "Then and Now" video of SF locations we had just seen, courtesy of Reel SF.
Total Running Time: 220 minutes
My Total Minutes: 312,510
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