Monday, September 11, 2006
Okay, I didn't actually watch the whole movie; I only saw about 30 minutes' worth of Nine to Five before the digital cable went out, but I have to say it was the most fantastic half-hour in recent days. (Imagine what comic ecstasy the full, two-hour screening will yield.)
A Few Things:
-Dolly Parton is one of the cutest and funniest women around. (She threatens her evil pig-headed boss with the gun in her trunk: "I'll change you from a rooster to a hen in one shot!")
-Lily Tomlin's brutal "fantasy" of torturing and murdering the boss, Mr. Hart (Dabney Coleman) the "cute" way, complete with cartoon animals and a Snow White costume is comic genius.
-Dabney Coleman plays a combo of cruelty and comedy with such ease that you'd think they were the same thing.
-A quote so funny that its gotta hold rank with that of any random line from Ghostbusters (1984), a name for the boss: a "sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot," spewed with fire from the three demeaned women workers' mouths.
-Note to Self: Watch whole movie soon.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Fort Apache - 1948 - DVD
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Today is the one-year anniversary of my best friend Emily's wedding--congrats, Emmy!
To commemorate, I've watched a fantastic movie, John Ford's Fort Apache, the second in my Ford Movie Marathon. I'm running the race slow, somewhere around 1-2 movies a week. I anticipate a gross finish time of a few months, a net finish of a couple weeks, when we take into account the mail delays from Netflix.
First thing up for note is the credit sequence. Fantastic. I've mentioned it before, the opening credit reels of Ford films are a phenomenon in and of themselves. In Fort Apache the titles fade in and out against the black and white stock, the "directed by" credit inches up in anticipation; then, it is upon us: we read "directed by" as it fades into sight but without a name attached below; we wait, and then "John Ford" appears. The title of the credit fades, Ford's name remains for an extra second, and he is superimposed over the landscape of the opening establishing shot.
This is my second time watching Fort Apache, and I love the distinction between the clean edges of Henry Fonda's character and the scruff of John Wayne's. Fonda is Lt. Col. Owen Thursday, a by-the-book leader who is fresh to the untamed West; Wayne is Capt. Kirby York, he is casual and frank, his uniform is loose, and he even talks back to the colonel. Col. Thursday is structured, always clothed in a fresh uniform; he strictly follows regulations, and is not accustomed to the unpredictable nature of the western environment; Thursday tries to keep order in an atmosphere that cannot be tamed.
The Colonel's daughter is Miss Philadelphia Thursday (Shirley Temple), a great name if there ever was one. But the finest thing about this film is the power Ford holds over these major name actors. We recognize each of the players, Wayne, Fonda and Temple immediately, but they don't feel like stars so much as subordinates to the ascetic direction of Ford. The characteristics Ford imposes upon them are slight, subtle; it is a severity or mean curl to their tone, they seem insecure, as if their bold words teased out of them. I think particularly of Henry Fonda's character in this respect. Wayne is a different beast. He might be the most straightforward in his actions.
More complete thoughts on Ford and his players in the weeks to come. It's a work in progress, people!
(And congrats again to Emily!)
Today is the one-year anniversary of my best friend Emily's wedding--congrats, Emmy!
To commemorate, I've watched a fantastic movie, John Ford's Fort Apache, the second in my Ford Movie Marathon. I'm running the race slow, somewhere around 1-2 movies a week. I anticipate a gross finish time of a few months, a net finish of a couple weeks, when we take into account the mail delays from Netflix.
First thing up for note is the credit sequence. Fantastic. I've mentioned it before, the opening credit reels of Ford films are a phenomenon in and of themselves. In Fort Apache the titles fade in and out against the black and white stock, the "directed by" credit inches up in anticipation; then, it is upon us: we read "directed by" as it fades into sight but without a name attached below; we wait, and then "John Ford" appears. The title of the credit fades, Ford's name remains for an extra second, and he is superimposed over the landscape of the opening establishing shot.
This is my second time watching Fort Apache, and I love the distinction between the clean edges of Henry Fonda's character and the scruff of John Wayne's. Fonda is Lt. Col. Owen Thursday, a by-the-book leader who is fresh to the untamed West; Wayne is Capt. Kirby York, he is casual and frank, his uniform is loose, and he even talks back to the colonel. Col. Thursday is structured, always clothed in a fresh uniform; he strictly follows regulations, and is not accustomed to the unpredictable nature of the western environment; Thursday tries to keep order in an atmosphere that cannot be tamed.
The Colonel's daughter is Miss Philadelphia Thursday (Shirley Temple), a great name if there ever was one. But the finest thing about this film is the power Ford holds over these major name actors. We recognize each of the players, Wayne, Fonda and Temple immediately, but they don't feel like stars so much as subordinates to the ascetic direction of Ford. The characteristics Ford imposes upon them are slight, subtle; it is a severity or mean curl to their tone, they seem insecure, as if their bold words teased out of them. I think particularly of Henry Fonda's character in this respect. Wayne is a different beast. He might be the most straightforward in his actions.
More complete thoughts on Ford and his players in the weeks to come. It's a work in progress, people!
(And congrats again to Emily!)
Stagecoach - 1939 - DVD
Friday, September 8, 2006
It's John Ford time, folks! I've rustled up a good mess of flicks for a Ford Marathon, and what better way to begin than with Stagecoach, one of the most influential and entertaining American films of all time?
The film began like all of his movies do, with a sweeping credits sequence that's crowned at the end with his name, "John Ford." In big blocked, western-style writing his name stands alone, large, and for a few seconds longer than the names before it--like any "director" credit does, yet I can't think of any other director's name that stands out so blatantly on film; his credit shot is its own part of the narrative, big and bold; it is a phenomenon in itself.
The credit sequence might be my favorite part of any Ford film, but in the case of Stagecoach it has to be the introductory shot of The Ringo Kid, that is, John Wayne. Like an inhaled breath sucking us closer to him, the camera swifts from long-shot to close-up of Wayne's mug, like he has his own gravitational pull. I knew this shot was coming, I've seen the movie plenty of times already, but fans, I urge you to watch again, to be overwhelmed by this cinematic grace that borders on the sublime. It never gets old.
It's John Ford time, folks! I've rustled up a good mess of flicks for a Ford Marathon, and what better way to begin than with Stagecoach, one of the most influential and entertaining American films of all time?
The film began like all of his movies do, with a sweeping credits sequence that's crowned at the end with his name, "John Ford." In big blocked, western-style writing his name stands alone, large, and for a few seconds longer than the names before it--like any "director" credit does, yet I can't think of any other director's name that stands out so blatantly on film; his credit shot is its own part of the narrative, big and bold; it is a phenomenon in itself.
The credit sequence might be my favorite part of any Ford film, but in the case of Stagecoach it has to be the introductory shot of The Ringo Kid, that is, John Wayne. Like an inhaled breath sucking us closer to him, the camera swifts from long-shot to close-up of Wayne's mug, like he has his own gravitational pull. I knew this shot was coming, I've seen the movie plenty of times already, but fans, I urge you to watch again, to be overwhelmed by this cinematic grace that borders on the sublime. It never gets old.
Once Upon a Time in the West - 1969 - DVD
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
I watched the opening sequence of Once Upon a Time in the West and fell in love, then I fell asleep. Let me explain. Due to poor scheduling on my behalf, I started the movie too late in the evening after an afternoon soccer game and was plain wiped-out. I was out like a light after an hour.
It's on the short-term agenda to begin this masterpiece (Yes, I am already claiming it as such even if I haven't officially seen it. Try and fight me on this one, I dare you.) again, and after I'm through I promise a substantial, un-insulting-to-this-movie's-greatness response.
I watched the opening sequence of Once Upon a Time in the West and fell in love, then I fell asleep. Let me explain. Due to poor scheduling on my behalf, I started the movie too late in the evening after an afternoon soccer game and was plain wiped-out. I was out like a light after an hour.
It's on the short-term agenda to begin this masterpiece (Yes, I am already claiming it as such even if I haven't officially seen it. Try and fight me on this one, I dare you.) again, and after I'm through I promise a substantial, un-insulting-to-this-movie's-greatness response.
Grosse Pointe Blank - 1997 - DVD
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Grosse Pointe Blank was released in 1997, the year I graduated high school. Currently only months away from my own ten-year reunion, I gleefully embrace Martin Q. Blank (John Cusack), an embittered hit man forced to return to his hometown to complete a job. As a result he's reluctantly required to attend his old high school to observe what Marcella (Joan Cusack) his secretary says is the crux of her reunion: "It was just as if everyone had swelled."
I never saw Grosse Pointe Blank when it was released in 1997. It was serendipitous that I found it as I raided my companion's DVD rack one night. I've had friends who've raved about it for years, but somehow I never got around to watching it, that is until my recent discovery. Broadly speaking, the movie is not spectacular. It's technically (i.e. camera, editing) predictable, and rarely stimulating in its formulaic mode. Rather, it's the script's attitude problem that inspires the movie. Take the explicit action of the lead character, Martin, who's motivated to return to his school to murder not mingle, a perfect picture of sentimentality smashed.
The unsentimental story is highlighted with characters like Martin's best friend from high school, Paul, played by Jeremy Piven. His is a delightfully disillusioned role of self-loathing in a suit. Now he's a real estate broker, an unconvincing house salesman whose youth is over. Even better is Martin's rehashed relationship with high school sweetheart Debi (Minnie Driver), whose life seems to have left off ten years ago in 1987. She lives at home in her old room. Martin recognizes the layout of her furniture and belongings, "it's all the same," he exclaims. Martin left without a trace on the night of their senior prom, so for him life is just how he left it in the '80s. His ego tells him he's better than these people because he's not the same guy he was ten years ago. The sweetest and blackest part yet, he's right; his girlfriend really waited for him all these years after he moved on.
The movie's greatest plus may be the casting of the star himself. John Cusack is from the "brat pack" era where high school life and the teen-age never looked glamorous, rather uncomfortable, and hardly a period of life one would willfully choose to revisit. He had a small part in the angsty Sixteen Candles (1984), and starred in the darker Better Off Dead (1985), and later in the bleakness of The Grifters (1990), so he is not a stranger to detached character roles. Though, by the end of Grosse Pointe Blank I’d say his grudge against those years of his life is insincere, after all he does finally get engaged to his high school sweetheart. In retrospect, high school was easy, stress-free, fun. That’s how I remember it, too. On that note, I am still not pining for my ten year reunion.
Grosse Pointe Blank was released in 1997, the year I graduated high school. Currently only months away from my own ten-year reunion, I gleefully embrace Martin Q. Blank (John Cusack), an embittered hit man forced to return to his hometown to complete a job. As a result he's reluctantly required to attend his old high school to observe what Marcella (Joan Cusack) his secretary says is the crux of her reunion: "It was just as if everyone had swelled."
I never saw Grosse Pointe Blank when it was released in 1997. It was serendipitous that I found it as I raided my companion's DVD rack one night. I've had friends who've raved about it for years, but somehow I never got around to watching it, that is until my recent discovery. Broadly speaking, the movie is not spectacular. It's technically (i.e. camera, editing) predictable, and rarely stimulating in its formulaic mode. Rather, it's the script's attitude problem that inspires the movie. Take the explicit action of the lead character, Martin, who's motivated to return to his school to murder not mingle, a perfect picture of sentimentality smashed.
The unsentimental story is highlighted with characters like Martin's best friend from high school, Paul, played by Jeremy Piven. His is a delightfully disillusioned role of self-loathing in a suit. Now he's a real estate broker, an unconvincing house salesman whose youth is over. Even better is Martin's rehashed relationship with high school sweetheart Debi (Minnie Driver), whose life seems to have left off ten years ago in 1987. She lives at home in her old room. Martin recognizes the layout of her furniture and belongings, "it's all the same," he exclaims. Martin left without a trace on the night of their senior prom, so for him life is just how he left it in the '80s. His ego tells him he's better than these people because he's not the same guy he was ten years ago. The sweetest and blackest part yet, he's right; his girlfriend really waited for him all these years after he moved on.
The movie's greatest plus may be the casting of the star himself. John Cusack is from the "brat pack" era where high school life and the teen-age never looked glamorous, rather uncomfortable, and hardly a period of life one would willfully choose to revisit. He had a small part in the angsty Sixteen Candles (1984), and starred in the darker Better Off Dead (1985), and later in the bleakness of The Grifters (1990), so he is not a stranger to detached character roles. Though, by the end of Grosse Pointe Blank I’d say his grudge against those years of his life is insincere, after all he does finally get engaged to his high school sweetheart. In retrospect, high school was easy, stress-free, fun. That’s how I remember it, too. On that note, I am still not pining for my ten year reunion.
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