tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55508684806631123582024-03-06T03:35:58.250-05:00Media FunhouseThe blog for the cult Manhattan cable-access TV show that offers viewers the best in "everything from high art to low trash... and back again!" Find links to rare footage, original reviews, and reflections on pop culture and arthouse cinema.Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.comBlogger866125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-35355420460987411792024-03-05T02:56:00.014-05:002024-03-06T03:35:25.646-05:00Kuchar movies and other underground classics -- Catch 'em while you can!<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3UTB-pVOIoCoDBx3DxSWYM8RRrfeMUpLl15duzIu155OtTv4W4lmHzPCirvIR_4aqbtDrztNPepl7gGJ1Q7zbCPDPKdGPrXO8pgoQ_J1v_TRqHwUAGhg6I8jWu1hvA0J4dt7I7auqhwfNcI1aIik266ccHp2RdiZ6wMFLTB1T-D8nDYB2gPStsJN5ST4/s400/Kuchar%20Brothers.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="260" data-original-width="400" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3UTB-pVOIoCoDBx3DxSWYM8RRrfeMUpLl15duzIu155OtTv4W4lmHzPCirvIR_4aqbtDrztNPepl7gGJ1Q7zbCPDPKdGPrXO8pgoQ_J1v_TRqHwUAGhg6I8jWu1hvA0J4dt7I7auqhwfNcI1aIik266ccHp2RdiZ6wMFLTB1T-D8nDYB2gPStsJN5ST4/s320/Kuchar%20Brothers.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two classy men of the Bronx.<br />(George and Mike Kuchar)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There are countless articles appearing each week about the availability (or non-availability) of different films. The general consensus among diehard cinephiles is that, while certain streaming services are very good at presenting arthouse and indie cinema, the best way to get and keep the films is through owning “physical media” (the new name for discs, tapes, what-have-you).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But then again, there are those films that are just simply NEVER going to appear on any streaming service. The ones that are not “economically viable” to acquire and only have a “limited audience.” Those of us who want to see these films thus have to scrounge, and when a trove of them appears on the most visible (and most visited) video site on the Net, I have to draw your attention to them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In this case, I felt that I should do this sooner than later, even though the poster in question — a gent named “Ray Cathode” — is still in the process of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@raycathode/videos">building his channel</a>. The reason I feel I have to do this right away is that he’s including one filmmaker in the bunch whose Estate generally hounds people who reproduce or post his films. (My take on this: They don’t want the secret getting out — that secret being that his films were numbingly dull until others came along and directed the films for him.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">From the above, I’m sure you can guess who I’m talking about. (Further clues would include the wearing of a wig, the state of Pennsylvania, and soup.) Including this particular artist’s films gets your account taken down – even the YT channels that used to hide his work by renaming the films and never posting his name (and removing the initial credit for a specific museum) went down.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5rBn5NXwkW3Cov7G30BgtebNRHwsD1Qq_eAwhHWuyWwVl_B976G50SdcM3Mv3R40jjDS4Po7ulStUBVF0n12ybugVjNp4JaFNELLosYaTLsuAvPtWacxn7S7CGWiHdE2Pc2Uxui-nn2wqoX-CDDecF6SPxidNZE5-uTWbgDTOYmQ0Y_7kZC9Z4jitGc-/s789/Kuchar%20film.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="789" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5rBn5NXwkW3Cov7G30BgtebNRHwsD1Qq_eAwhHWuyWwVl_B976G50SdcM3Mv3R40jjDS4Po7ulStUBVF0n12ybugVjNp4JaFNELLosYaTLsuAvPtWacxn7S7CGWiHdE2Pc2Uxui-nn2wqoX-CDDecF6SPxidNZE5-uTWbgDTOYmQ0Y_7kZC9Z4jitGc-/s320/Kuchar%20film.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Thus, I urge you to see the films that “Ray” has put up before any litigious pains in the ass decide to take action and remove his trove from public view. For this person (I’ve been using the male pronoun since the person is using a male name) has put up a veritable treasure chest of underground and weirdo cinema.</span><p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEMPv-WePkJOfygG8sBhejZYuYCBLdOaCIZIQudJ7M3s5c_favre_ClM7095Dy9uba8kFGR6uwYu4pFVR2_hx98gQhkhptkG8zh-9jjbjj0SinfyKvBclOPNWlZE1ZZloumDxyl6lRFvxmp7tq8Uby6yklk1QHGpzdGLFOAGOWnhy8M0d6Uo8_Guo0GfG/s493/Mike%20Kuchar.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="325" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEMPv-WePkJOfygG8sBhejZYuYCBLdOaCIZIQudJ7M3s5c_favre_ClM7095Dy9uba8kFGR6uwYu4pFVR2_hx98gQhkhptkG8zh-9jjbjj0SinfyKvBclOPNWlZE1ZZloumDxyl6lRFvxmp7tq8Uby6yklk1QHGpzdGLFOAGOWnhy8M0d6Uo8_Guo0GfG/w132-h200/Mike%20Kuchar.jpeg" width="132" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mike Kuchar.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I will put the emphasis here on two gents whose work I absolutely love and have saluted before many times on the Funhouse TV show and on this blog: Mike and George Kuchar. Twin brothers from the Bronx who gave us some absolutely delightful films that exhibited a super-low-budget style that influenced many who came after them (most prominently John Waters). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mike was an interview subject on the Funhouse; <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFzJq4NB6NA">I made two episodes out of our talk</a>, which was wonderful — rarely have I had a guest to whom <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yu6dyNbpj0o">I could speak about "high" and "low" culture in adjoining sentences!</a> I spoke to George about doing an interview, but he was busy at the time he was in NYC. To show you the kind of gent he was, he called me from San Francisco and noted that if I were to come out there he'd love to do the interview. Sadly, that was a short time before his revealing that he had prostate cancer. He left us in 2011.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I’ll link to six items below. I used to be able to make these “survey” blog posts much longer and have many more links, but embedding from YouTube is apparently now in the trash can for blogspot blogs. Despite Blogger and YouTube both being Google properties, there is no cross-pollination between the two sites anymore, and a dedicated person like myself can go insane trying to find videos that CAN be embedded at this point.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-guPxdk9m_Lyiy9dny-GDtY4Tq4pniSRg0iXzcZ1ckdq_Fg85jj-S5FrwHSdzafSxiy4pbmZEH6pAptQrkp_oyCsb3vM6jigpVkcFooIjPc7R8qdHQVME-uGuBLn0V_33qhBrak7tqwx4jei5Hy7TJOSiB8bWaM686JVybq_UdPBqHUqsUNSZ_8Zm7JTm/s560/George%20with%20dog.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-guPxdk9m_Lyiy9dny-GDtY4Tq4pniSRg0iXzcZ1ckdq_Fg85jj-S5FrwHSdzafSxiy4pbmZEH6pAptQrkp_oyCsb3vM6jigpVkcFooIjPc7R8qdHQVME-uGuBLn0V_33qhBrak7tqwx4jei5Hy7TJOSiB8bWaM686JVybq_UdPBqHUqsUNSZ_8Zm7JTm/s320/George%20with%20dog.webp" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">George Kuchar (and friends).</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />For some reason, the whole enterprise has transformed into a situation where YT embeds are blocked, providing the blogger with a black screen with a “watch on YouTube” link. As that is incredibly ugly and extremely pointless, I’ll be doing fewer blog entries that link to YouTube videos, because: a.) sites like ok.ru have a broader variety of films anyway (including several Media Funhouse episodes!), and b.) the notion of “experimenting” with HTML code to see which videos appear as full thumbnail/old-school embeds and which are black boxes with a YT link is the way to sheer madness.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the meantime, here are five links-with-thumbnail image and one actual embed. (I guess the film in question slipped through the net.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Tootsies in Autumn” is an early 8mm film by Mike Kuchar that shows off the controlled chaos of the brothers’ films — they worked mostly in tandem on the 8mm films, then split to make their own solo 16mm films and, later on, many, many videos.</span></p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/hcvu61y8cQ4?si=OmBG1AzcM9OOnMtW"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1fYgDEgF0yKhReYPeHR_SwSN9dy3aEEwt3OBrMR04ARJEFQA55q5cgh9I_hPC2IhTolO3g78s4mWGnORgEkK7mfZulcQMe3cLHNGk5_Pl9TyRSXmO44-XaXac9EAMf1kQeNEVWudDMe6fF5mSt7USUaTUYc7oGkI5alfgATBj1YmKS249HSS9k0boNKK/s783/Tootsies.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="783" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1fYgDEgF0yKhReYPeHR_SwSN9dy3aEEwt3OBrMR04ARJEFQA55q5cgh9I_hPC2IhTolO3g78s4mWGnORgEkK7mfZulcQMe3cLHNGk5_Pl9TyRSXmO44-XaXac9EAMf1kQeNEVWudDMe6fF5mSt7USUaTUYc7oGkI5alfgATBj1YmKS249HSS9k0boNKK/s320/Tootsies.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/hcvu61y8cQ4?si=OmBG1AzcM9OOnMtW">“Tootsies” is silent cinema reborn as brightly colored kitsch with the soul of an overripe melodrama. </a></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Born of the Wind” is another early item that shows off the visual storytelling style. It was directed by Mike and shows off the brothers’ love of (again) melodrama and horror pictures. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ylfab4v7IQU?si=Mloo8eRO8YlOjzmj" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“The Craven Sluck” by Mike is a stunner – here is a sci-fi thriller that foreshadows everything in the early work of John Waters. </span></p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/tQDHddmx7Z4?si=t3okS8vBpiwwTVpW"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeDjoVim4hZZSPlI383DaW7tfWE0nJ6iZP2sPqAuJ3oFh8tmlUtYeXWzPzb5g5u9svq7sEsn_aWg5AAbp4YM7SCCXUh-F2aZFqIect9AoLC1xCZFVvengiltdVk5z95U-FiNzd9fWuAr12BFCRoLgjaH5fW2ffvUASMqxkVtcJ0J-WjsBrlLsPRNPfOix/s790/Craven%20Sluck.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="790" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeDjoVim4hZZSPlI383DaW7tfWE0nJ6iZP2sPqAuJ3oFh8tmlUtYeXWzPzb5g5u9svq7sEsn_aWg5AAbp4YM7SCCXUh-F2aZFqIect9AoLC1xCZFVvengiltdVk5z95U-FiNzd9fWuAr12BFCRoLgjaH5fW2ffvUASMqxkVtcJ0J-WjsBrlLsPRNPfOix/s320/Craven%20Sluck.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/tQDHddmx7Z4?si=t3okS8vBpiwwTVpW">Watch “The Craven Sluck.”</a></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Eclipse of the Sun Virgin” (1967) by George shows off his wonderfully tacky and torrid taste, with Catholic imagery, Americana, pop culture, and the tininess of urban apartments. </span></p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/sQaxe4QpW-A?si=oaMPJS_yAhVELL_I"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMNwoHw4Xn1cW0AgjdroeTsSloXGWqz3Bpxsd5Cc9AvAJlGmgIQh3ZFvT5HaSzPfYF9ZvFeJjuagPy3pp50YxpmKqsIkaTyQCbwaIvpa-pVz9rqRVDk2t-EYg8UEjqCznuaAo6fFqz_KbuBLNpwalPNnBjbr4k99uPnrdi-F_ALYHtxYX7EHcTlwtCl1sD/s787/Eclipse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="787" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMNwoHw4Xn1cW0AgjdroeTsSloXGWqz3Bpxsd5Cc9AvAJlGmgIQh3ZFvT5HaSzPfYF9ZvFeJjuagPy3pp50YxpmKqsIkaTyQCbwaIvpa-pVz9rqRVDk2t-EYg8UEjqCznuaAo6fFqz_KbuBLNpwalPNnBjbr4k99uPnrdi-F_ALYHtxYX7EHcTlwtCl1sD/s320/Eclipse.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/sQaxe4QpW-A?si=oaMPJS_yAhVELL_I">Watch “Eclipse of the Sun Virgin.”</a></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Forever and Always” (1978) is George’s reflection on relationships. Both Kuchar brothers were gay and both did include homoerotic imagery in their films (Mike’s is mystical and idyllic; George’s was earthy and straight from the crotch), but here he depicts boy-girl love and the inevitable un-romantic thing that results from said union: kids. The site of our female lead carrying around her kids through a children’s carnival tells you all you need to know about the possible benefits of birth control. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/HQqBS1W1h24?si=LoZ0NEn8d90dhhyu"></a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4zNoV7Y-oBR11k9dHHcV7iEmX1iCGo6gygIhqx4G48zQQlbnd3qdhVjdnaByUBY0_rVBovY5bL0QirDiL69_6l8iKDOB45m1f_PQhODy16nlHufZBzRJAbpWfFV5YY5f56OS4BBmX1E63ngdtN5UdMipYTRCV-dyVuLmfWZ63c7_VnCESX9Z7rEWu8zP/s786/Forever%20and%20Always.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="786" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4zNoV7Y-oBR11k9dHHcV7iEmX1iCGo6gygIhqx4G48zQQlbnd3qdhVjdnaByUBY0_rVBovY5bL0QirDiL69_6l8iKDOB45m1f_PQhODy16nlHufZBzRJAbpWfFV5YY5f56OS4BBmX1E63ngdtN5UdMipYTRCV-dyVuLmfWZ63c7_VnCESX9Z7rEWu8zP/s320/Forever%20and%20Always.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/HQqBS1W1h24?si=LoZ0NEn8d90dhhyu">Watch “Forever and Always.”</a> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Route 666” (1994) is a crazy and wonderful short video that reflects George’s later concerns: extreme weather (he was a “storm chaser” wannabe, spending weeks in Oklahoma each year to see the big storms come), being haunted by pop culture artifacts (in this case, a marionette with a Donald Duck voice), and indelibly kitschy imagery, taken from gift shops all around the country. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/TzFuGz89txs?si=9iO5ueupe0Ga6-0a"></a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0Mmx3TV2cc8Glhc13Y0cmo4a2_he9aE7VwYqcw3pMDFQCXB07Lj9WzMV1eMZTPbZeHNoWI9Gpu-jrKJBl_RvQjMeDoIL3ZmJPaOSQbX1Duek4Kh998geEqZ_xxrg1R0ggIQYEY6WBTQBzCc2-igTcFOirqTtLHETMRxtoLky64F7-eb81GyRT-YzJJBA/s781/Route%20666.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="781" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0Mmx3TV2cc8Glhc13Y0cmo4a2_he9aE7VwYqcw3pMDFQCXB07Lj9WzMV1eMZTPbZeHNoWI9Gpu-jrKJBl_RvQjMeDoIL3ZmJPaOSQbX1Duek4Kh998geEqZ_xxrg1R0ggIQYEY6WBTQBzCc2-igTcFOirqTtLHETMRxtoLky64F7-eb81GyRT-YzJJBA/s320/Route%20666.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/TzFuGz89txs?si=9iO5ueupe0Ga6-0a">Watch “Route 666.”</a> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Those are just six of the Kuchar films on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@raycathode/videos">the “Ray Cathode” YT channel</a>. There are 18 more up there as of this writing. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t list the other filmmakers whose works “Ray” has posted.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A quick laundry list on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@raycathode/videos">the channel</a>: Anger, Brakhage, Burroughs, Derek Jarman, Ken Russell, Werner Schroeter, Zappa, and yeah, the famous artist-turned-filmmaker (whose work might be down, but hopefully not all of the Cathode channel, by the time you read this.) Also, Ken Jacobs’ seven-hour found-footage epic <i>Star Spangled to Death</i> and, for the kiddies, the Satanic Panic fave “Law Enforcement Guide to Satanic Cults.” </span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Note: Thanks to “Ray” for posting all this stuff (a bit of advice: remove the Factory guy’s stuff!) and to <a href="http://rarefilmm.com/">Jon Whitehead</a> for leading me toward it.</span></i></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-83139540282309379312024-01-26T04:25:00.061-05:002024-01-27T03:14:31.945-05:00Raise the Candles High: Deceased Artiste Melanie<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9f0nQutQZmUFeq3usHxabKKE-TwuwF7MVtiNoT6D8YGYu9eNKsIjNncM7YV2vkbGtpcLIOH0k9bebNOvRE_JsBvqjrNpPVEg3uh72AL3AYwQBC_KZZIzWXLM8MbHsHQct_BEZUKrV31wL_P90LbnbUqNIK1pmxsG2iqEw8h0UkLmrQ6iC0VtTC1OuMMD/s600/Melanie.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="449" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9f0nQutQZmUFeq3usHxabKKE-TwuwF7MVtiNoT6D8YGYu9eNKsIjNncM7YV2vkbGtpcLIOH0k9bebNOvRE_JsBvqjrNpPVEg3uh72AL3AYwQBC_KZZIzWXLM8MbHsHQct_BEZUKrV31wL_P90LbnbUqNIK1pmxsG2iqEw8h0UkLmrQ6iC0VtTC1OuMMD/w149-h200/Melanie.jpeg" width="149" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Melanie was a best-selling folk-pop performer who became a cult musical figure. She is remembered very fondly by those who were her contemporaries in the hippie age group and by younger people who latched onto her music later on (like myself) when she was releasing a slew of albums that found her toying around with the idea of reinvention but also always staying true to her singer-songwriter roots. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The best-known facts about her were that she played at Woodstock when the audience lit up candles (and matches and lighters) in the rain (thereby inspiring her Top Ten hit “Lay Down (Candles in the Rain”) with the Edwin Hawkins Singers) and that she wrote and sang the novelty-sounding hit “Brand New Key.” What was really remarkable about her, though, was that she was a very accomplished songwriter and had a killer voice — she was indeed a “belter” in the classic sense. She also recorded a broad array of covers, some of which are instantly forgettable, but others (including her epic take on “Ruby Tuesday”) are better than the original versions. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My own fascination with her music began in the late ’70s when she had come back from a hiatus where she continued to record but didn’t tour, as she was raising her children. By the time she returned to full-fledged activity as an artist, the recording industry had moved on. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There were also difficulties with record labels (this after she had run her own indie record label, Neighborhood Records, with her producer-husband Peter Schekeryk) — the oddest notes one finds online about her recording career are that two full albums were recorded in ’75 and ’79 and were kept by the studios they were recorded in because the bill for the recording time hadn’t been paid. This coincides with accounts of difficulties (not, I must stress, in any way with Melanie herself — there are no bad stories I’ve ever heard about her) that were relayed to me by a person who collaborated with her at one point.<br /><br />One major obstacle was chronicled in <a href="https://www.theaustralian.com.au/subscribe/news/1/?sourceCode=TAWEB_WRE170_a_GGL&dest=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.theaustralian.com.au%2Farts%2Flook-what-they-did-to-her-songs%2Fnews-story%2Fcf9364fe470ec715a2ccfd053815c6a1&memtype=anonymous&mode=premium&v21=GROUPA-Segment-2-NOSCORE&V21spcbehaviour=append">an article sadly called "Look What They Did to Her Songs" that appeared in <i>The Australian</i></a> on June 5, 2014 (article behind a paywall). It turned out that Schekeryk sold the publishing rights to every single song Melanie wrote before 2004 without telling her. <a href="http://retrainyourbraintohappiness.blogspot.com/2014/06/melanie-safka-look-what-they-did-to-her.html">The story is reprinted here</a> and it's a rather stunning betrayal but, since she was not aware of what he had done, their marriage was seemingly a happy one, as it lasted from 1968 until his death in 2010.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZT2Fjk8rpmYkdUhzrROo5s6q-0tirqmqv1YgxZHv66U1z8c4OBQnY-SlUI7X_9XtHHufjTGQ1noRp0YeAORKW1CKJUD5rikbQt_IqlHFlbVbJ8sRJfTqKvxRc_tutqDSOa-F7d5SvlkwAHhJV7Vdn1qit_aF5Neh8Yh-ypGg4NL-uIaY9SQFJPN72uCm/s1000/Melanie%20older.jpg" style="font-family: helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZT2Fjk8rpmYkdUhzrROo5s6q-0tirqmqv1YgxZHv66U1z8c4OBQnY-SlUI7X_9XtHHufjTGQ1noRp0YeAORKW1CKJUD5rikbQt_IqlHFlbVbJ8sRJfTqKvxRc_tutqDSOa-F7d5SvlkwAHhJV7Vdn1qit_aF5Neh8Yh-ypGg4NL-uIaY9SQFJPN72uCm/s320/Melanie%20older.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I got into her music at the point where she was no longer having hits but was a steady presence on the concert scene and on television. One of the two times I saw her perform was when I cut some classes in HS to see her receive the “skate key” to Manhattan from borough president Andrew Stein. (She performed a solo concert after the rather dubious ceremony.) </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I then saw her again, several lives later, at the B.B. King Blues Club on 42nd Street in the early 2010s. Her voice was pitch perfect as she belted out her best-known hits, as well as a bunch of new songs and covers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXujy3jdhRr7OgrJ2AsUFY4QqxBdja-hvBemhG7lG2_CdVs992ViIpGKfH8TelKmQaV1fIwk5a4r8Tj340WzznjAz19TbSXPn1w0lLvL5grXXIKubG_3rTB69osbYTFzXJhk8iteQNtvZLe2VuWzFI94677DDu75eMwAolr3pLi63ma15DxmCwI8yO0SW/s599/Best%20of%20Melanie.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="599" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbXujy3jdhRr7OgrJ2AsUFY4QqxBdja-hvBemhG7lG2_CdVs992ViIpGKfH8TelKmQaV1fIwk5a4r8Tj340WzznjAz19TbSXPn1w0lLvL5grXXIKubG_3rTB69osbYTFzXJhk8iteQNtvZLe2VuWzFI94677DDu75eMwAolr3pLi63ma15DxmCwI8yO0SW/w200-h199/Best%20of%20Melanie.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In honor of her really underrated body of work — there are indeed a few dozen albums with hidden gems hidden everywhere — I thought I would offer a dozen videos as a “survey” of her work. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A little note here about which videos were chosen: I haven’t done a blog entry on a musical figure in many a year, but now I prob rarely (if ever) will, as way too many music clips on YT can’t be embedded in a blog. Thus, in some instances I had to pick videos that had nothing going on visually because I wanted to include the song and the better video for the song is verboten as far as embedding. I’ll list a few interesting Melanie YT channels at the end, but I wound up not using videos from two of the best because they turned the embedding feature off.</span></p><p></p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I’ll start out with the first song I heard from her on record. The two-record set “The Best… Melanie” from Buddah was a collection of the most notable songs from her time with the label (1968 to ’71).<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJkReTwPGMmytoQLnLKzPBslWRm9Mq-9bitrqJA6YdbMCXbnDkCRgpOYwqD_CcsjiX6vhS0FaBl-lWw0mjeMI9WGn9jQiM0rRH4Io4yq7KAtTXDoiKNmxyGsWsGyiLQYFgP6A6N0g-eSZ7AlSBwloKVnWJBnkbBDvqvNuXEoZOgAFBFh35ggUjaGlk9m3/s800/Melanie%20cube.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJkReTwPGMmytoQLnLKzPBslWRm9Mq-9bitrqJA6YdbMCXbnDkCRgpOYwqD_CcsjiX6vhS0FaBl-lWw0mjeMI9WGn9jQiM0rRH4Io4yq7KAtTXDoiKNmxyGsWsGyiLQYFgP6A6N0g-eSZ7AlSBwloKVnWJBnkbBDvqvNuXEoZOgAFBFh35ggUjaGlk9m3/w150-h200/Melanie%20cube.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <a href="https://forums.stevehoffman.tv/threads/r-i-p-melanie-brand-new-key-singer-songwriter.1193669/page-3#post-33748396">Steve<br />Hoffman's <br />music board.</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />What is most impressive about the set, and any subsequent of “best of” that Buddah put out, was that they included non-hit album tracks that showed the raw, folkie side of Melanie and also her initial forays into pop tunes with orchestral backing. (Count me as a sucker for strings and horns on a pop tune.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Buddah comp was later released with a rather ridiculous cover concept — you could fold over the cover and make a cube with color drawings of Melanie! Rather bizarre, but perhaps this was thought of by the same person who included the famous line “Rub gently to release the magic of Melanie’s garden” on the cover of the U.K. release of her later Buddah collection </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Garden in the City</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first track on the collection was this somber, emotional cover of George Gershwin’s “Somebody Loves Me.” Quite a note to start off a greatest hits package!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fXQpy1mGYF4?si=_SM78Xril92pniSA" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A YT poster who has put up some dazzlingly rare tracks by Melanie (anyone want to hear her singing at four? Or the single for a girl band she wrote before her own recording career began? Or her mom Polly singing?) put up this collection of 1968 demos. Two of these songs became fan-faves, and there’s also an early version of her earthy cover of “Ruby Tuesday.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lj0na8Q2Lz0?si=RgssqovITaZ-eLtZ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There is no way in hell I can embed the very entertaining video versions of her doing “I’m Back in Town” (a very Broadway-esque tune, done with proper B’way-pit orchestra backing), so I’ll opt for this item instead, which finds her performing a song that was a hit in France before she’d had a hit in the U.S.! French TV had certain ways of framing female artists, and here she visually resembles nothing less than a ye-ye girl, albeit a seriously folkie ye-ye.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/r07HBCdnSLQ?si=gJ1LceDE4u_-pr3R" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A great half-hour concert that aired on U.K. TV. I wish the poster had not “stretched” it to fit a rectangular screen (TV images look dreadful when stretched), but the live performances here of six of her best songs are great.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CDD8ba7AREI?si=sOFpHPo3QFPwNPTd" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Her biggest hit was this tune, which appears in various permutations on YT, including <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFE7mHnzHUc">a version where the vocal is isolated</a> (that shows how she did sing the hell out of this little ditty). <a href="https://youtu.be/of5IcMWHiyc?si=d4qeuNrujaLR6xuW">There was also a cartoon made of it, but that features the Sonny and Cher cover of the song</a>. (As it was made for their CBS show.) Here’s the version that became Melanie’s biggest hit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ISv0ZK2TSts?si=Dv9jbuI82M2j-OkP" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Most of the videos on Melanie’s own YT channel are forbidden to be embedded, but here’s one that can be properly placed on a blog, and it’s an amazing one. Melanie guests on the Everly Brothers’ own variety show (!) in 1970. The other guest stars, with whom she and the Everlys sing “This Little Light of Mine,” are (culture shock 101) Tina Turner on her own and Bobby Sherman!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LcsCVCTPnVs?si=MCNB3KBDW0ESIAR2" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here’s footage of one of her several appearances on the laidback <i>Mike Douglas Show</i>. She performs “The Nickel Song,” an incredibly catchy reflection on the music business (in the guise of a human jukebox, namely the performer). This is the medley version of the song, where she starts out with an older nickel song, Teresa Brewer's "Music, Music, Music," and then moves into her own composition (which is another one of the many Melanie fan-faves). I’ve always been very fond of the line “They’re only putting in a nickel, and they want a dollar song...” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZvhJHDSv1H0?si=ERNXAPC8QQUYod_u" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And speaking of covers, Melanie did two perfect covers of Phil Ochs songs. She performed both at the concert that was held at the Felt Forum to commemorate his life. The first, more serious one (which is definitely worth a quick search on your fave music platform) is “Chords of Fame.” Here is the lighter of the two, the cryptic, bouncy, and absolutely blissful “Miranda” given a great “reading” (as they used to say) by Melanie here. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oZDwdSvCHAQ?si=Rrzt34gITJOtaf9M" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> A really great video featuring Melanie post-“comeback” (no, she never really did go away, but this is when she was touring again) in ’77 singing her rousing and very emotional cover of “Ruby Tuesday” with a full band. Whoever edited the clip uses that footage as the base but then flashes back to the Sixties with various images, including the younger Melanie.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vH8SVGoJzvE?si=QX6xY-GfvSNiKYyE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">During the height of her pop stardom, Melanie was on Johnny Carson and Ed Sullivan a few times each (clips from some of those appearances are <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@MelaniesafkaTheRealMelanie/videos">on her YT channel</a>). When she came back she needed to appeal to a younger demographic <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJjGlz3S0A4">so somehow she was booked on… the Brady Bunch variety show?</a> Well, at least the song, “Cyclone,” is a very solid one that <a href="https://youtu.be/M-3W5YXuZFE?si=_jheKxrspMgMYFSz">she also promoted on American Bandstand.</a> NOTE: Every single video that contains the longer version of this song, or is visually interesting (or is jarring, like the Brady Bunch one), is un-embeddable. So it’s not included here. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Three last videos to highlight Melanie’s influence on others. First, one of the songs she sang with Miley Cyrus in a backyard concert that is up on YT as individual songs. Here, Melanie and Miley duet on a hard-driving version of one of Melanie’s greatest and most timeless songs, “Look What They Done to My Song, Ma.” It was nice to see Miley introducing her fans to Melanie with some of her best-remembered songs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aSpkaBeZckY?si=kXdCbB7usVXyZFI-" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here's a perfect matching of composer and singer: Melanie doing vocals for a project by Stephen Merritt, he of the Magnetic Fields. Merritt writes beautifully heart-wrenching little numbers and Melanie had just the right voice to sing one of them. And so she did for "The 6ths" (a Merritt project) on this number in the year 2000. Here definitely is Melanie in a new milieu, being perfectly suited to the material (although the plunking behind her is a bit maddening). Thanks to friend Steve for this one.<br /><br /><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PR5HGTqo6Fc?si=2EyOxE2lvVNQQef3" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><br /><br />And for the closer, an album track that wasn’t a hit when it came out, but it was fondly remembered by Melanie fans. Melanie’s version recently popped up on an episode of the brilliant “Black Mirror” series, which was a really nice surprise. It’s an incredibly catchy tune, with a flute-and-strings backing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It turns out that Charlie Brooker and his “Mirror” compadres didn’t actually dig this one up completely out of the blue — <a href="https://youtu.be/Vak9wUPkL3Q?si=I9IB24PVDiWFmvkJ">the original recording was heavily sampled by an Australian group called the Hilltop Hoods for their 2003 song,</a> “The Nosebleed Section.” As with a lot of songs that use *incredibly* catchy hooks from elsewhere, it’s obvious this tune wouldn’t’ve existed without the Melanie original. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Single nicest sight in the Hoods' video? The band’s younger female fans singing along with the part of the song that contains Melanie’s original vocals. (Processed with filters to sound like a 78.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5HTS8LFaxiE?si=weUUFByKkOD9UhOB" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Some last links: </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> —<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@MelaniesafkaTheRealMelanie/videos">Melanie’s own YT channel, featuring a lot of great footage.</a> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@JoeyMcGowan1/search?query=Melanie">The gent who put up the super-rarities from Melanie’s mom’s stash (!).</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@IanWalkerMelmanian">A super fan's collection of rare concert videos and tunes on TV.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/@vibesinthesky/search?query=Melanie">Another fan's Melanie video-trove.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">—And… <a href="https://youtu.be/ejXRJe2_IfE?si=exDavpnEO9fYxEqN">a “missing” album recorded in 1979.</a> (As noted above, the studio was never paid so the tapes were kept by the owners!) Some very nice mellow vocalizing here; this shows Melanie going down a different path that she didn’t pursue. Thankfully, the album is now in the hands of the public.</span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-69386691466309299422023-12-20T16:59:00.006-05:002023-12-20T18:04:40.817-05:00A Christmas gift from the Funhouse: a rare interview with Orson Welles, with English subtitles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUISs08vKg3Of96aVs_yJKGCTdCHfhlb86Z0EoXVxjugG_39xOlQwicuRdhdSauT0-PeIlbfPQ9kYnYOmqOSqxhpDerGq0F-J0iqeL40hyzVZrR5DBaGP_ikr-_2kOyhbuqoPLT8XAZ0TxhXRGrV_NUM2uPCnRiJd0pS0brgH9LL0tMKF1oXGcPt-W8MMY/s1920/Orson%20vive%20le%20cinema%20amour%201.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUISs08vKg3Of96aVs_yJKGCTdCHfhlb86Z0EoXVxjugG_39xOlQwicuRdhdSauT0-PeIlbfPQ9kYnYOmqOSqxhpDerGq0F-J0iqeL40hyzVZrR5DBaGP_ikr-_2kOyhbuqoPLT8XAZ0TxhXRGrV_NUM2uPCnRiJd0pS0brgH9LL0tMKF1oXGcPt-W8MMY/w320-h181/Orson%20vive%20le%20cinema%20amour%201.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As the year comes to a close, I present for your delectation an online present: the entirety of my episode showcasing a filmed interview with Orson Welles, from a never-seen-in-the-U.S. French TV doc.
<br /><br />The year was 1972 and Orson was at work on his Don Quixote film, but he was also prepping <i>The Other Side of the Wind</i> as well. A very famous French actress was recruited to host this pilot for a TV series directed by a New Wave filmmaker (one of the least-known members of that movement, but a member nonetheless, thanks to the period in which he started making films and the fact that both Truffaut and Godard raved about his first feature). It appears that only two other episodes were ever shot.
<br /><br />This particular actress had worked with Orson four times already (although I’m not sure why the unfinished <i>The Deep</i> and the finished <i>Immortal Story</i> never comes up in this chat). She clearly had a deep affection for the Big Man, and that is evident throughout this chat.
<br /><br />I’m not sure if all the stories told here are 100% (or even a lesser percent) true, but that doesn't matter at all. They are told in a grand style, with plenty of cigar-stained laughter, and remind us of what a tremendously engaging storyteller Welles was. (His laugh was always killer.) If any researcher has turned up any of the crime thrillers or science fiction that Welles claims he wrote here under a pseudonym for the pulps, I'd love to hear about it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqk1MVUiHZ1l3lqBFCUYDUQFVRBsg09FPs7bdUl7ZgagTFEM1ZnBcUOS1lopqz62uq78jYfl1V31xQuUNholh6QLbF3l47mHlzuPymo2klLfcMp7UUcvv0vKRqlmtn1-TF4JI1yqI73-dpfaWJ1HG18OTb9AMr8OgsYew_D0vbrgRjxw4g4W-Cy5dIqtXG/s1920/Orson%20vive%20le%20cinema%20for%20love%202.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqk1MVUiHZ1l3lqBFCUYDUQFVRBsg09FPs7bdUl7ZgagTFEM1ZnBcUOS1lopqz62uq78jYfl1V31xQuUNholh6QLbF3l47mHlzuPymo2klLfcMp7UUcvv0vKRqlmtn1-TF4JI1yqI73-dpfaWJ1HG18OTb9AMr8OgsYew_D0vbrgRjxw4g4W-Cy5dIqtXG/s320/Orson%20vive%20le%20cinema%20for%20love%202.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />I translated this interview myself, so any errors in the English subs are entirely mine. I found Orson’s French to be charming and he is fully understood by his friend the hostess, but when you “map” out his French he did indeed throw in some incomplete sentences that trailed off and used some Americanisms in the language. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This documentary also included the interview with Jerry Lewis that I posted a few months back (see this entry URL); that one was a lot easier to tackle, since I only had to translate the overdubbing in French, as one could still hear a lot of the English in between the French voices on the dub. With Orson’s interview, I had to make it seem readable and comprehensible and yet still convey in English his, again, very charming but not entirely grammatically pristine French. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XqWFVuDy7v74ke-ScjLVYemSie6EiM7gf751_5BXvh1Tg3vbrG8aywSqlYZx6rPTfXa6i-WlbPfm8-Q8ujDtCQxSofIDBHmm1jiktxbAKSnBfilIoWnwESMVMRsLUp71eHVgZh75DA4tJoke8j5AFva5Ho5jpNxcEwqzqZqRLSBEHd9p3v8HRokBeK67/s1920/Orson%20vive%20le%20cinema%20completely%20idiotic%203.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XqWFVuDy7v74ke-ScjLVYemSie6EiM7gf751_5BXvh1Tg3vbrG8aywSqlYZx6rPTfXa6i-WlbPfm8-Q8ujDtCQxSofIDBHmm1jiktxbAKSnBfilIoWnwESMVMRsLUp71eHVgZh75DA4tJoke8j5AFva5Ho5jpNxcEwqzqZqRLSBEHd9p3v8HRokBeK67/s320/Orson%20vive%20le%20cinema%20completely%20idiotic%203.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />One note, to prevent inquiries of “gimme everything” school of Net correspondence and commentary: This interview runs approximately 27 minutes. Episodes of the Funhouse run 28 minutes. To properly contextualize this interview I needed a few minutes at the outset (also to give all the names and i.d. the production co./distributor who has long held it from being shown internationally), so I removed less than 2–3 minutes of the chat (containing a story he told many times — about the reason he had a scene set in a Turkish bath in his <i>Othello</i>). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I also had to put another short part of the interview — where he talks about the protagonist of the <i>Other Side of the Wind</i>, who was to be eventually played by John Huston — over my intro to the footage. Thus, you can see the latter (with the subs onscreen) but can’t hear it. This is the best I could do, given the timeslot I have and the time constraints I work under. I could not make a separate “cut” of the episode for the “gimme everything” folks on the Net. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNDkLRtrCEbqVTlasBYXUhTrGyQcxxde6wt-lLvSzYqTMEpsIfbuEdKajfUvl8zjZ22bXhL_txWw4DmjgUZPNKagKzRAIrVDIU3NWUphOqHYmrUO3Rax5YhfuUsP6kpxh9y2ppVqWKkpM9QYe95ZvneEFKTU6fIE9vgUguuZpTZ2rqQnerFIfyKctay-q/s1920/Orson%20not%20a%20film%20by%20Orson%20Welles.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNDkLRtrCEbqVTlasBYXUhTrGyQcxxde6wt-lLvSzYqTMEpsIfbuEdKajfUvl8zjZ22bXhL_txWw4DmjgUZPNKagKzRAIrVDIU3NWUphOqHYmrUO3Rax5YhfuUsP6kpxh9y2ppVqWKkpM9QYe95ZvneEFKTU6fIE9vgUguuZpTZ2rqQnerFIfyKctay-q/s320/Orson%20not%20a%20film%20by%20Orson%20Welles.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />I do the show as an intense labor of love (for a full 30 years now) and give of my time freely to make it the best it can be. I can work no longer on this particular project — it took hours to convert it into this comprehensible condition. (I literally typed in many of the English subs; others I altered from a very wonky computer translation.) </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Enjoy the episode, and please feel free to share it anywhere you like.</span></p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Merry Happy Holidaze from the Funhouse!</span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/7810937784915" width="345"></iframe><br /><br /><i>Thanks much to my friend, superior cineaste Paul Gallagher, for his help in finding this film and also the translation process.</i></span></div>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-87634850180168701642023-11-23T02:25:00.021-05:002023-11-23T02:39:10.029-05:00An annual moment of reflection (or, Send in the Clowns)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinc7MxWgQRzl5eqeIgAtoXYxnX82fwAvOQVxFXPVrAuTGrjNtwI_NNw8m_bQyVUZQb5p-omLAMf4vBXtYfY8q5OU8VSvv-TGEHUQDLLKUwohJ-a0KkT2yhZ_0-cjV6mHEdrZzd8bG9Bwu857jkNnWymc2jsF0PjbaATUV3Hx8z5MxElWvXFR1BXopU2ux/s200/Vaughn%20parade.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="146" data-original-width="200" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinc7MxWgQRzl5eqeIgAtoXYxnX82fwAvOQVxFXPVrAuTGrjNtwI_NNw8m_bQyVUZQb5p-omLAMf4vBXtYfY8q5OU8VSvv-TGEHUQDLLKUwohJ-a0KkT2yhZ_0-cjV6mHEdrZzd8bG9Bwu857jkNnWymc2jsF0PjbaATUV3Hx8z5MxElWvXFR1BXopU2ux/s1600/Vaughn%20parade.jpeg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Every year around the holiday season, we take stock of where we’re at. Currently the U.S. is in an absolute mess — the economy sucks, we are funding one side each in two foreign wars that were absolute disasters from the word go, the divide between fellow citizens only get deeper and deeper, and mainstream culture is pretty much lowest-common-denominator garbage.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But it is Thanksgiving, and one must count one’s blessings on this commercial holiday (with the biggest, most commercial holiday coming up fast — start that Xmas music in October, boys, we want those suckers to start buying!). I surely was blessed to capture the moment where Robert Vaughn was mocked by clowns as he tried to read the U.S. Constitution at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the past year, the only Robert Vaughn-related news happened when his one-time costar (and the guy whose fame and following of young women eclipsed that of Vaughn, whose show </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Man From UNCLE</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> originally was), David McCallum (aka “Illya Kuryakin”), died at age 90. (Vaughn only reached 83.) Perhaps Vaughn is being eclipsed in the afterlife as well — but one thing will always be certain: David McCallum was never mocked by a group of makeshift clowns (whom I believe were Macy’s employees; perhaps someday someone can confirm or deny that). And if he was, we have no video proof of it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I should also note that yesterday (Nov. 22) was not only the 60th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination but also the anniversary of Robert Vaughn's birthday. (If he had lived, he would've been 90.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Enjoy Mr. Vaughn, soldering through a minor show-biz disaster.</span></p><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwtoV1_KBJCDCgpeU31HBPU2Oeb6GyX698L5AE59v-jnGUDxabeD6eyAzuU60DelXP0_q-Kgb65QM2M99ewxw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-56636328214469911382023-11-06T18:23:00.023-05:002023-11-06T19:11:18.339-05:00An Amicus horror-movie binge: notes (plus three non-horror Amicus reviews)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTORO905LQvvSvq6ARjHxY4IHbnDhZo1ipBBPCovOo9hrlz0QfJ3OebDlGpakEL3zZtymLxySvbZLjX5T5UEdzryXI3XZO41o7rS7mPWl5Hx6Q4wthOHaaYS-zSdfXV8lXxOunYMC-mc6iW7SQtxzZnDKZ6iRJa5MXSi5dyWM9xrneR2BE526LXau7r2Vz/s1000/Famous%20Monsters.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="754" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTORO905LQvvSvq6ARjHxY4IHbnDhZo1ipBBPCovOo9hrlz0QfJ3OebDlGpakEL3zZtymLxySvbZLjX5T5UEdzryXI3XZO41o7rS7mPWl5Hx6Q4wthOHaaYS-zSdfXV8lXxOunYMC-mc6iW7SQtxzZnDKZ6iRJa5MXSi5dyWM9xrneR2BE526LXau7r2Vz/w151-h200/Famous%20Monsters.jpg" width="151" /></a></div>These blog posts were posted in sequence (well, sometimes out of sequence) on my Facebook profile as I watched the films in question. The binge began the week before Halloween and ended three days after the holiday. I’ve added three bonus reviews at the end of films that are not horror but were indeed produced by the two men who were Amicus itself, Max J. Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky. <p></p><p>To celebrate Halloween, I’m in the midst of an Amicus binge. (I did Hammer last year for several weeks and ended up seeing dozens of films.) They had far less films and were much less productive than Hammer, because it was basically two (American) producers, not even a mini-studio. Their first outing together was <i>City of the Dead</i> (U.S. title: <i>Horror Hotel</i>). Milton Subotsky (producer No. 2) provided the screenplay, which in this case was really good (some of Subotsky’s work as a scripter was really corny, but sometimes it worked perfectly). </p><p>With the always hoped-for Chris Lee as a teacher who is also a member of a coven, <i>Hotel</i> has a bunch of surprising elements, among them the fact that that female lead is captured by the coven at one point and is never seen again — we don’t see her die, but otherwise she is Janet Leigh in <i>Psycho</i>, a lead character whose disappearance becomes the guiding force in the plot (yes, that also was the case in <i>L’Aventura</i>; all three films were released in 1960). Nice atmospheric shots (with plenty o’ fog) created with a nothing budget, <i>Hotel</i> had the advantage of being in black and white — some of the budget problems were later visible in Amicus productions because the films were in color. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXyU_it6N_UIkXw9HXc4-j69a1y37D91yHJPsL6e-ihaH6isqEGAerYjCYP4sUpQnZ4tzyFAM_xWwPJQxFZ_vCyLAFa3eJZcfaWqcsNNlUYG7jHzV3ctpQV14Qh-ujVUNJMFeixxecz5ajAIrCulNbtarhCw4YxO06llTHWh6n_WbIdxbYKGVaBimm0pHR/s3000/Dr%20terror.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2029" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXyU_it6N_UIkXw9HXc4-j69a1y37D91yHJPsL6e-ihaH6isqEGAerYjCYP4sUpQnZ4tzyFAM_xWwPJQxFZ_vCyLAFa3eJZcfaWqcsNNlUYG7jHzV3ctpQV14Qh-ujVUNJMFeixxecz5ajAIrCulNbtarhCw4YxO06llTHWh6n_WbIdxbYKGVaBimm0pHR/w135-h200/Dr%20terror.jpeg" width="135" /></a></div>The official start of the company (which was, again, really just two American producers, operating in England) was <i>Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors</i> (1965). Producer-scripter Milton Subotsky copied one of his favorite films, <i>Dead of Night</i>, and created this collection of tales, which are hit and miss, but are put across by the actors with much sincerity. The set-up was much copied in the years that followed: a psychic (Peter Cushing) enters a railroad compartment and tells the fortunes (all of which are tragic and supernatural) of the five men sitting there. <p></p><p>Some of the "threats," as rendered by the great horror director Freddie Francis, are low-budget fun (a vine that takes over a house), but thankfully the menaces get better as the film goes on (with the Chris Lee section about an artist's disembodied hand being the best). The ending is very predictable but that is because, again, it was copied in the years after '65. </p><p>The big success of <i>Dr. Terror</i> spawned the singularly scary/silly <i>The Skull</i> (1965), courtesy of horror masters Freddie Francis and Robert Bloch. It's put over at points by the cast, headed by the great British horror team, Cushing and Lee. Cushing is a collector of supernatural items who wants to buy the skull of the Marquis de Sade. Lee, who has already been "enslaved" by the skull, tells him to forget it, but that... well, you can figure out the rest. </p><p>The most impressive thing about the picture is that the last quarter is nearly entirely dialogue-less (except for a few stray lines from Lee), with Cushing effectively becoming a silent-movie actor as he's menaced by the skull. The least-effective thing about the scene is the skull itself (you can see the strings vividly at one point — hi-def restorations reveal embarrassing details). The most effective elements are Cushing's acting (he always took his work seriously, even if it was the silliest stuff imaginable), and the bombastic and wonderful score by Elisabeth Lutyens. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXN6c-MMAq-NxhPuGqPsxx-jpdxfGm9RDCqJ97E07YFxJ77OWbNmuiW3EruSGUn5iUp_yb4O_RO3y99O_m-TZUZsP5xeMJUCoDBY9IFqNfDxAo3YpjeRRyeAucArJfqdbPszEK7hJI0MbuVEjU-7L3v948ykdawA3B0_MR0LjmHUQEfOzdVD8h2bNdpCPo/s1440/the%20skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXN6c-MMAq-NxhPuGqPsxx-jpdxfGm9RDCqJ97E07YFxJ77OWbNmuiW3EruSGUn5iUp_yb4O_RO3y99O_m-TZUZsP5xeMJUCoDBY9IFqNfDxAo3YpjeRRyeAucArJfqdbPszEK7hJI0MbuVEjU-7L3v948ykdawA3B0_MR0LjmHUQEfOzdVD8h2bNdpCPo/s320/the%20skull.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />Robert Bloch revamps his <i>Psycho</i> formula with <i>The Psychopath</i> (1966), wherein the most memorable character is an old toy maker who lives amongst her dolls as her "children." Her son is clearly a Norman Bates type, and thus it isn't surprising that the film kinda falls into a "son of <i>Psycho</i>" mode. (Bloch blamed Freddie Francis and the producers for doing a shoddy job with his script, but it's definitely Robert in writer's-Bloch mode, redoing something he'd already done.) The dolls-found-next-to-murder-victims is a nice touch (at least the dolls made for the film look like the actors), but this one is a minor Amicus pic. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnUt7HNYxXXLr6jr9oA7caI9hj64LgVhtzEKW4OcmTx6GrMxbVXYlMnPQV-U_0HB0k3N62qG_QtgnwZZ6ExVuMXzVt7FRhIbDaDjbqW__22NFToUIStjBJO1BQ-Z4rPD3xNLBqX-ht1XPWRaMCxN9bLHXRA6pw7eCR8jP6JV6DgC5mIwa7QWesDhyphenhyphenFuOZ/s915/DEADLY%20BEES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilnUt7HNYxXXLr6jr9oA7caI9hj64LgVhtzEKW4OcmTx6GrMxbVXYlMnPQV-U_0HB0k3N62qG_QtgnwZZ6ExVuMXzVt7FRhIbDaDjbqW__22NFToUIStjBJO1BQ-Z4rPD3xNLBqX-ht1XPWRaMCxN9bLHXRA6pw7eCR8jP6JV6DgC5mIwa7QWesDhyphenhyphenFuOZ/w131-h200/DEADLY%20BEES.jpg" width="131" /></a></div><i>The Deadly Bees</i> (1967): So far, the lowest point in the binge in terms of actual artistry, but damn, it is dopey fun. Scripter Robert Bloch again blamed Freddie Francis and the producers for being cheap and working too fast, but this is not by any means a very, um... intelligent plot about the feud between two beekeepers in a remote town. The biggest problem is the cast — no horror stars (Bloch was hoping for Karloff and Lee) and one of the leads is "aged" to look older. <p></p><p>The bee attack scenes are threadbare — images of the actors are overlaid with "bees go crazy!" footage and little fake bees were taped to their clothing. To show how Amicus hadn't picked up on the sexy-horror-star phenom (which made the female leads nearly as important as Lee and Cushing in the Hammer pics), the big sexy moment here is on the poster: one potential bee victim, Suzanna Leigh, is seen in her bra. </p><p><i>Torture Garden</i> (1967) solidified the Amicus approach to the horror anthology. This time the Freddie Francis-Robert Bloch combination turned in some very good thrills — and others in the "this is ridiculous, and we're going to play it that way" vein (when Bloch's ideas — like a living piano that wants to kill a grand pianist's girlfriend — got really nutsy). Burgess Meredith hams it up well as "Dr. Diablo," a sideshow emcee who promises a bunch of attendees that he will show them their future, all of which are tragic. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZLuYHX-G4iMIV9LAeBmFjckEyhrP6uMJIlKTOlRG8FKrnN_uzWj8wwCF-xqJFPVM46xWPzFX24Y5cIiVP9lBCW9QQIsyfXmVk8WgpX7Sk64oWoLCVDc_pcAY9jlY5qEByVXIsmyIZ8Z4stwDmlNV9aBmE43W5YB337lAcy-L3_WbOvwAmX2bI41PQTcc/s1280/Torture%20garden.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZLuYHX-G4iMIV9LAeBmFjckEyhrP6uMJIlKTOlRG8FKrnN_uzWj8wwCF-xqJFPVM46xWPzFX24Y5cIiVP9lBCW9QQIsyfXmVk8WgpX7Sk64oWoLCVDc_pcAY9jlY5qEByVXIsmyIZ8Z4stwDmlNV9aBmE43W5YB337lAcy-L3_WbOvwAmX2bI41PQTcc/s320/Torture%20garden.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The two stories that stand out are one where an actress finds out how a veteran movie star has remained in such good shape (he's robotic), and another where an Edgar Allan Poe collector (Jack Palance, in scary intellectual mode; Palance was always scary) is taunted by another (Cushing, indispensable in British horror) Poe devotee who has an even more complete collection. This format (which began in <i>Dr. Terror</i>) became the blueprint for Amicus' greatest successes. <p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaF1jgqhxWyJrL7uaDnr0CHC00XIVqoYoXKPZpmc5Xv7eG-8FxF5xoCQ0m7NN-bx2FGoK_2mAdlOQIXtM-mbVur_7H299KZsy7k0WGJ4qz3R3hsuX-9n3isOVApYCUgE8jmRIxjl6tFC635snwc0uY5AbA8Uroav9Bg95mMlk87oFGAxYZOLoTstP-VZQ/s600/Scream%20and%20scream%20again.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="399" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaF1jgqhxWyJrL7uaDnr0CHC00XIVqoYoXKPZpmc5Xv7eG-8FxF5xoCQ0m7NN-bx2FGoK_2mAdlOQIXtM-mbVur_7H299KZsy7k0WGJ4qz3R3hsuX-9n3isOVApYCUgE8jmRIxjl6tFC635snwc0uY5AbA8Uroav9Bg95mMlk87oFGAxYZOLoTstP-VZQ/w133-h200/Scream%20and%20scream%20again.webp" width="133" /></a></div>The 1970 poster for <i>Scream and Scream Again</i> freaked me out as a kid (when it was on the cover of <i>Famous Monsters</i> mag); the film itself is one of the weirdest things Amicus ever made. It's a combination sci-fi tale, a horror movie, and political paranoia fable. It was the first "union" of the big three (Price, Cushing, Lee), but there is only short scene at the end that contains two of them together. The plot oddly reflects Amicus' main strength, anthologies, by having different plot strands moving forward simultaneously. The one about a military-ruled nation (a seemingly Soviet country that has Nazi-like uniforms for its soldiers and cops) never quite gels, but the notion of a vampiric killer who is actually the product of a project the British government paid for does make it a memorably strange movie. <p></p><p>In the end, we find that Vinnie Price is the surgeon who has masterminded the manufacture of supermen and women, but he makes clear when the hero tells him he's creating a super race, "... but not an *evil* super-race!" He also refers to the hero as "pointlessly savage." (Like Cushing and Lee, Price always played his roles to the utmost, committing his very self to even the oddest moments in these pictures.)</p><p><i>The House That Dripped Blood</i> (1971) and the following Amicus film were a formative part of my experience growing up. My father, who had a broad mind about many things, knew I *loved* them friggin' monster movies. <i>Famous Monsters</i> duly promoted <i>House That Dripped Blood</i> and <i>Tales from the Crypt</i>, so, despite their being "adult" horror, he brought me as a lad of a scant few years to the double bill. (He told me not to inform my mother and made me assure him that I wouldn't have nightmares -- I did have nightmares subsequently, but they were gone within a day or two, and I had a moviegoing experience I still regard fondly.) <i>Dripped Blood</i> is from the period where Amicus really had hit its low-budget stride. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYu_y4Fu49GBl5cEr4BUO70EI5y_VBTuIBFucyM6PK2byTdNjUZ52J5yg28EKAQ0mFSA9eqjhNjoXTcc0erFjN4fhHTXiof4P8FSVGC8M09zDg6QLWqoc5hT8oMw7aWHT-nFFLiXSOeSlkI_Rjonw9ze0xpNCZrp3t6grJFgJ4N8sq3EDGZQkS1sBHzjxO/s576/review_house-that-dripped-blood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="576" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYu_y4Fu49GBl5cEr4BUO70EI5y_VBTuIBFucyM6PK2byTdNjUZ52J5yg28EKAQ0mFSA9eqjhNjoXTcc0erFjN4fhHTXiof4P8FSVGC8M09zDg6QLWqoc5hT8oMw7aWHT-nFFLiXSOeSlkI_Rjonw9ze0xpNCZrp3t6grJFgJ4N8sq3EDGZQkS1sBHzjxO/s320/review_house-that-dripped-blood.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely Ingrid Pitt in<br /><i>The House That Dripped Blood</i> (1971).</td></tr></tbody></table>Directed by Peter Duffell (Freddie Francis was apparently busy) and scripted by Robert Bloch, the film had an excellent balance of straightforward horror and tongue-in-cheek bits. This time, Bloch didn't just dash off any old crap — he did provide some solid stories. Denholm Elliott (a master at going crazy slowly) plays a horror author haunted by his serial killer creation starts things off with a bang. Then it's Peter Cushing in sad, forlorn mode as a retiree who discovers that the local horror house has a wax figure of his ex, dressed as Salome! On from that shocker to Christopher Lee (as essential as Cushing to any British horror pic) as a dad who is trying to shelter his daughter from her heritage of witchery. And, for the finale, a spoof of egomaniacal actors with Jon Pertwee as a horror-movie vet who takes himself seriously (with the always welcome Ingrid Pitt as his glamorous female counterpart). <i>Dripped Blood</i> is up in the must-see category of Amicus productions. </p><p>Though better than Hammer's <i>Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll</i> (1960), <i>I, Monster</i> (1971) is notable for having Christopher Lee playing the dear doctor and Cushing playing one of his close friends. Unfortunately, the film contained a low-budget make-up job for Lee as the Hyde character (a bulbous nose, enhanced eyebrows, and a bad set of fake teeth). <i>I, Monster</i> is mercifully short, though, and does mostly stick to the events of the novel. The character names are changed from Jekyll and Hyde — presumably so as not to clash with Hammer's <i>Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde</i>, which opened the same year. (And, though not as perfect as it could be, <i>Sister</i> has some memorably camp moments.) A lesser Amicus necessary only for Lee and Cushing completists. </p><p><i></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkaC_wjnpp7koXA6LPWf05OJM3UPBkZeb3D95_LI6D78N1d-VfJ6T-rlNZRYyscg77K9oXFSMxKIJ1V0h-2iQi02emu-pBRcKceXGl9RSPNO8HbJVjhGvSv_3cewSEzYRU-Oe-xTnVVkIWwpiZ1VKnG26b1msNuBOc2pYTwsbdJc3DxDA4d3LB7vh8JWR/s1024/Tales%20from%20the%20Crypt.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="685" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkaC_wjnpp7koXA6LPWf05OJM3UPBkZeb3D95_LI6D78N1d-VfJ6T-rlNZRYyscg77K9oXFSMxKIJ1V0h-2iQi02emu-pBRcKceXGl9RSPNO8HbJVjhGvSv_3cewSEzYRU-Oe-xTnVVkIWwpiZ1VKnG26b1msNuBOc2pYTwsbdJc3DxDA4d3LB7vh8JWR/w134-h200/Tales%20from%20the%20Crypt.webp" width="134" /></a></i></div><i>Tales from the Crypt</i> (1972) was part of the double bill that marked my childhood (along with <i>House That Dripped Blood</i>). Still at the peak of creepiness-mixed-with-dark-humor, Amicus was the perfect company to adapt E.C. Comics scripts by Gaines, Feldstein, and the superbly noirish Johnny Craig. Here producer-scripter Milton Subotsky gets the pacing right (which wasn't the case in <i>Dr. Terror</i>) and each story is a gem. <p></p><p>It works from beginning to end, starting with the perfect Christmas horror story starring Joan Collins, to the tale of a car accident (that's doomed to happen — an E.C. special), to one of Peter Cushing's greatest turns as a sympathetic old toymaker who is hounded to suicide by his evil wealthy neighbor, to the finale in which Patrick Magee triumphs as the leader of a band of old blind men who have a colorful, classically E.C., revenge in mind for the man who has been mistreating them. Made for only 3 million dollars and featuring a terrific cast and stylish direction by horror master Freddie Francis, <i>Tales</i> was a strong part of Amicus' heyday in the early 1970s. </p><p>A thriller that visually evokes the kitchen sink films at points, <i>What Became of Jack and Jill?</i> (1972) is an odd little number that seems to be a "youth culture" movie but has two utterly unlikeable characters at its center. Jack (Paul Nicholas) and Jill (Vanessa Howard) want to live together in his grandmother's house, but first they must kill off the old lady (Mona Washbourne). Thus, the film is comprised of two good-looking performers acting bitchy to a nice old lady (who may be a pain in the ass, but doesn't seem as much of a shrew as she should be to make us identify at all with the plans of the leads to scare her to death). </p><p>There are some good twists at the end — there would have to be, otherwise you'd wonder why they made the picture at all. Amicus purportedly was embarrassed to have made this sucker and thus kept it on the shelf for two years. (Totally understandable.) The only Amicus "horror" flick to not be available in good condition "above ground" on the Web. (But that's okay...) </p><p><i>Asylum</i> (1972) has hands down the best frame device of any of the "portmanteau" anthology horror pics from Amicus, and its top-notch cast put over the material beautifully. A young doctor (Robert Powell) would like to be the head administrator of a mental asylum, so the warden (the always amazing, always seething Patrick Magee) proposes a game — if the doctor can tell him which of four inmates used to run the hospital, he can have the job. Robert Bloch's scripting here is the best of any of his work for Amicus, and movie/TV genre specialist Roy Ward Baker presents it in classic deadpan fashion. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm5NKvIsAp7IWtCwTnh-f7XHLkmY70dK63necwlyb3cV8NSy5Ew-HsizdvY738Gc0p_DDFMNfw0p35W8uvmgSCaxNrbzA_OYh1ZK1dh2uupWJVi5dyveAh7rojgs4WWIQonDx0ceXOeO92jWph2WB2QQxuaJdCTEUkpN451du5dExXvQGxjSt53hp4hFdD/s1500/asylum.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm5NKvIsAp7IWtCwTnh-f7XHLkmY70dK63necwlyb3cV8NSy5Ew-HsizdvY738Gc0p_DDFMNfw0p35W8uvmgSCaxNrbzA_OYh1ZK1dh2uupWJVi5dyveAh7rojgs4WWIQonDx0ceXOeO92jWph2WB2QQxuaJdCTEUkpN451du5dExXvQGxjSt53hp4hFdD/s320/asylum.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />This time half of the stories are told by women — Barbara Parkins (in a classic kill-the-wife scenario) and the great Charlotte Rampling (as a woman who still has an "invisible friend") get that honor. Barry Morse and Peter Cushing (him again!) are in an excellent tale of a tailor's terror, and the pic ends with a small Herbert Lom robot doll (I want one of them!) and the resolution of the "game" Magee is playing with Powell. One of the must-sees among the Amicus horrors. <p></p><p>Not as good as <i>Tales From the Crypt</i>, <i>The Vault of Horror</i> (1973) focuses on a few of the more gimmicky E.C. plotlines — some seem chosen for their final twist, while others were picked because they are set in an exotic locale. One story signals "comedy" as it stars Terry-Thomas and Glynis Johns — the blackly humorous ending is a classic E.C. conclusion, but the segment isn't scary at all. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY97kok2y9Xp_9I4LGShja20TR4qUjvVqVpH3fNpZ4jXE1kaO1SddHmv_0sLAiUhdpq_jKpIwf57ugHXMzn1lUZb1QFVlj5eJTzmZceGTqR3iK8LUnZFT1unvOzcYrmdH5Cf6hMJ7XJXf3QvzHK342gMZHJOPjJOHWl9IGn4ZekT3-pgE9WAS_EXbGNMsz/s1000/Vault%20of%20Horror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="660" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY97kok2y9Xp_9I4LGShja20TR4qUjvVqVpH3fNpZ4jXE1kaO1SddHmv_0sLAiUhdpq_jKpIwf57ugHXMzn1lUZb1QFVlj5eJTzmZceGTqR3iK8LUnZFT1unvOzcYrmdH5Cf6hMJ7XJXf3QvzHK342gMZHJOPjJOHWl9IGn4ZekT3-pgE9WAS_EXbGNMsz/w132-h200/Vault%20of%20Horror.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>Real-life sibs Anna and Daniel Massey get a better tale (about a town of vampires), while one-time Dr. Who Tom Baker gets to play a painter crazed by vengeance (who doesn't need voodoo dolls, since his paintings are his "weapons"). Pleasant fun, but one can see why we never got a "Haunt of Fear" third film from the lightness in this one — and why Roy Ward Baker is better known for the Hammer films he made (<i>Quatermass and the Pit, The Vampire Lovers</i>) than the ones for Amicus. <p></p><p>Another minor Amicus production, <i>And Now the Screaming Starts</i> (1973), feels for the first two-thirds of its running time like an early '70s TV movie. (The scripter, Roger Marshall, was best known for his work on British TV.) Stephanie Beacham plays a new bride brought back to the family mansion who immediately suffers weird apparitions and then gets to ponder the eternal question: Will my baby be a devil baby? The last third is a bit better and less like a telefilm — especially a nasty flashback sequence where a sadistic Herbert Lom shows up. The two other guest stars — Patrick Magee and the always-sincere-but-sometimes-he-just-couldn't-save-the-picture Peter Cushing — are pretty much wasted. Hammer did period pieces better than Amicus. </p><p>The end of the road for Amicus anthologies, <i>From Beyond the Grave</i> (1974) thankfully has some good twist endings, a solid cast, and this guy right here (below) in the frame device. (He owns an antique store that bonuses with each item bought — and even nastier ones with the items that are stolen...) Thus, we wind up where the Amicus anthologies began (with Cushing wearing equally crazy eyebrows on the train in <i>Dr. Terror</i>). Here the stories are all by British horror writer Robert Chetwynd-Hayes, and we start out with a bang with David Warner acquiring a mirror that has a Ripper-like killer inside it. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO05_bldwA-fzuNITjFe61LhnbHmLe085ljzyo6aTmz3WsH__djYb_g-ClA25-Q8fG0uTUN5orG7RWsxN7ax9dj5yJ_gZ38NEWOpVU1Go8ydMz-wPqp43PXidcbC5aHpFZglDBBNYrU60GXJ3nqoosuwXQWb7_DvTwgblx4oRH8pGjwADfh8Bj0N4ZIRAe/s2935/From%20Beyond%20the%20Grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1819" data-original-width="2935" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO05_bldwA-fzuNITjFe61LhnbHmLe085ljzyo6aTmz3WsH__djYb_g-ClA25-Q8fG0uTUN5orG7RWsxN7ax9dj5yJ_gZ38NEWOpVU1Go8ydMz-wPqp43PXidcbC5aHpFZglDBBNYrU60GXJ3nqoosuwXQWb7_DvTwgblx4oRH8pGjwADfh8Bj0N4ZIRAe/s320/From%20Beyond%20the%20Grave.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cushing in <i>From Beyond the Grave</i> (1974).</td></tr></tbody></table>The second story has a terrific twist — it involves businessman and henpecked husband (but also kind of an asshole himself) Ian Bannen, his nasty wife Diana Dors, and a veteran who sells items for pence on the sidewalk (the always-sublime Donald Pleasance, with an onscreen-daughter, creepily played by his real-life daughter Angela). The third episode is very silly but Margaret Leighton steals it as a psychic who is initially thought to be fake but then opinions change.... The last story involves a door that brings along its own scary drawing room to a house that it is installed in. Amicus went on for five more films (two horror, three fantasy based on Edgar Rice Burroughs), but this was the end of its great run of anthology horror pics. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukH7vRrHWWOt_8b_u_vsM1q5sf98dsxAItyfMzlDuSYvQZO4VRSnJQS7MttdOw6xq5RTk39OhSGd4mNUi3YKoiiFsb80gbAb8UTt0koMdeG4RTLXIeEKopSv5gK0a_7-iU4Aqf6wRWeL6xM9NmO3V44AZIXBNvgjKcE9dilGJtpzLqRXoKzfvY6-vlR39/s664/madhouse-on-fm.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukH7vRrHWWOt_8b_u_vsM1q5sf98dsxAItyfMzlDuSYvQZO4VRSnJQS7MttdOw6xq5RTk39OhSGd4mNUi3YKoiiFsb80gbAb8UTt0koMdeG4RTLXIeEKopSv5gK0a_7-iU4Aqf6wRWeL6xM9NmO3V44AZIXBNvgjKcE9dilGJtpzLqRXoKzfvY6-vlR39/w151-h200/madhouse-on-fm.webp" width="151" /></a></div>The first and only time Vincent Price starred in an Amicus film, <i>Madhouse</i> (1974; he's essentially a guest star in <i>Scream and Scream Again</i>). It's a good vehicle for Price, yet nowhere near as crazily perfect as the first <i>Phibes</i> and <i>Theatre of Blood</i>. He plays a horror actor who went insane years ago and is making a comeback to play his movie monster role "Dr. Death" in a new British TV series. More murders continue to occur and everyone believes it's Vinnie — until we find out exactly who has been doing it in the film's last few minutes. Peter Cushing and Robert Quarry costar (and both appear in vampire outfits in a costume party scene). <p></p><p>The film is decently paced, but it's pretty much a standard-issue murder mystery with horror trappings — although it is great to see VP watching himself torturing people in Corman pics from the '60s in the mid-Seventies. (The film was a coproduction of AIP and Amicus, so these clips cost nothing for the filmmakers.) And yes, a similar plot to this one is in the 1978 horror pic <i>Hallucinations of a Deranged Mind</i> by Jose Mojica Marins -- although red herrings are dispensed with in that film. </p><p>The hybrid horror pic <i>The Beast Must Die</i> (1974) is basically both: one of MANY remakes of <i>The Most Dangerous Game</i> (the first one with an African American in the "hunter" role) and a "gimmick movie" of the kind William Castle specialized in. Here we have the millionaire hunter (Calvin Lockhart) throwing a several-day vacation at his mansion — because he knows (how? never explained) that one of his guests is a werewolf and he will kill him/her. Anton Diffring plays his security man, the mighty Cushing is a Scandinavian expert on werewolves, and Charles Gray and young Michael Gambon unofficially compete for who has the most impressive voice. (Answer: both.) </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnF3HWHNxEcMAgyX59CfAd8WPj1KJtzf5XpqdMP3ppCZVoJE-iWKjQr3aWRMfA9_usmvqfZeGWf-3-oM1VaYlPWmtGBeFMENCbK4VQ8co_VSmc88vSbTjJ6LHOEsVKGy0NuIV7L7dw_wMeZiJ-swTFXBNBbzW5sVKqviA4NeSjOjOKSaxRG2UBzknJdxEb/s1200/The%20Beast%20Must%20DIe.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="1200" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnF3HWHNxEcMAgyX59CfAd8WPj1KJtzf5XpqdMP3ppCZVoJE-iWKjQr3aWRMfA9_usmvqfZeGWf-3-oM1VaYlPWmtGBeFMENCbK4VQ8co_VSmc88vSbTjJ6LHOEsVKGy0NuIV7L7dw_wMeZiJ-swTFXBNBbzW5sVKqviA4NeSjOjOKSaxRG2UBzknJdxEb/s320/The%20Beast%20Must%20DIe.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br />The film actually does stop 15 minutes before the end to have a "werewolf break" where the viewer can choose who is the wolf (which is depicted in this el cheapo outing by a dog wearing extra fur). The answer is not all that surprising. This wasn't the last Amicus production — the two producers went on to make three medium-budgeted Edgar Rice Burroughs adaptations and then, sadly, Amicus was kaput.<p></p><p>The above 17 films were all watched on ok.ru site. As noted, the only middling copy up there was <i>What Became of Jack and Jill?</i> And now the bonus reviews, written specifically for this blog post: </p><p><i>It’s Trad, Dad</i> (1962) is a curious relic of a curious period: the pre-Beatles era in England when “trad” jazz (think: Dixieland) was a popular youth phenomenon. Thus, in the manner of certain B-pictures based on radio variety or music-oriented programs, the film is composed of wall-to-wall musical numbers punctuated by a comedy plot. That plot is pretty formulaic stuff: the teens in a small town (who all look 20-something) are bothered by the town fathers who hate their rowdy music (which consists of “trad” and American pop), so two of them (real-life pop stars themselves; the girl is the well-charted-in-the-U.K. Helen Shapiro) try to assemble a concert to show the old fuddy-duddies that their music is the best. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSqR2HyuSgiOx4FPyuov2bYOVJEPbn6_2FUebcZ-kxqpzOSNEF0_L6xNJ7g0dtqUlKBFzs7SHJAiU-RpawC60Oe1tCiK8_psFdyVL-xr6GHiXodNAHWrBTgLHEWy4dS-S0KyT_45izNWsh8fbs4bfV89TturSOyrlT1IRjrngy4qi6TxwZQCEqcGLbsyw/s528/Gene%20Vincent.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="528" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuSqR2HyuSgiOx4FPyuov2bYOVJEPbn6_2FUebcZ-kxqpzOSNEF0_L6xNJ7g0dtqUlKBFzs7SHJAiU-RpawC60Oe1tCiK8_psFdyVL-xr6GHiXodNAHWrBTgLHEWy4dS-S0KyT_45izNWsh8fbs4bfV89TturSOyrlT1IRjrngy4qi6TxwZQCEqcGLbsyw/s320/Gene%20Vincent.webp" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gene Vincent in <i>It's Trad, Dad!</i></td></tr></tbody></table>The only reason this film should matter to anyone outside of those studying the music charts of early Sixties Britain is that it is the feature debut of director Richard Lester. <a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2020/03/on-spike-milligan-ken-russell-and.html">I’ve already discussed on this blog how some of Lester’s style emanated from the brilliantly warped mind of Spike Milligan</a> (with whom Lester made “The Running, Jumping & Standing Still Film”), but it is clear seeing his early work in <i>Trad</i> that Lester was also influenced by the French New Wave and, very much, silent comedy. Add to those influences a familiarity with modern technology (Lester was a TV director before he broke into film) and you have the style that became popularly known as “the Lester style” in <i>A Hard Day’s Night</i>.</p><p><i>Trad</i> is curious, in that Lester was allowed to mess around with the visuals during the goofy little plotline and in about one out of every four musical numbers. So, you have the odd experience of seeing a pop-art “music video” that finds Lester experimenting with different styles of editing and camerawork, and then you see two or three more musical numbers in which nothing interesting happens on a visual level. Then there’s a “crazy” one, then a few more normal ones. I guess Lester considered himself lucky at this stage of the game to be able to do anything odd at all, but the combination of experimental visuals and drearily familiar camerawork and editing makes <i>Trad</i> even weirder for modern viewers. </p><p>The most “prestigious” film in the Amicus canon was a film that was produced by Rosenberg and Subotsky without the Amicus name — it was released under the moniker “Palomar Pictures International,” because the producers felt they didn’t want their Harold Pinter adaptation to be released by the same entity that released <i> The Deadly Bees</i>. Sadly, <i>The Birthday Party</i> (1968), William Friedkin’s taut and disturbing film, failed at the box office and was considered a complete bomb financially, although it is one of the best Pinter films, along with Losey’s <i>The Servant</i> and <i>Accident</i>, and Peter Hall’s <i>The Homecoming</i>. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9GLD9zNydkcvv7yF7NDxqt09NgzC4pkE_grZ0D_NUx624kEjHEr2vhmLvLTV1FubrzoYAvXfRMxPVSJWeemjKkBDWy6Q8602d9Rq5qBMW2mG7Oi3FdDqbj8wdxcETDntOjj6ZuR8eevqUgx9yxWdCSy8BWF3tc5aus6htwMWIlew7tWy1gbwz_GfFBsn/s529/the-birthday-party-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="529" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM9GLD9zNydkcvv7yF7NDxqt09NgzC4pkE_grZ0D_NUx624kEjHEr2vhmLvLTV1FubrzoYAvXfRMxPVSJWeemjKkBDWy6Q8602d9Rq5qBMW2mG7Oi3FdDqbj8wdxcETDntOjj6ZuR8eevqUgx9yxWdCSy8BWF3tc5aus6htwMWIlew7tWy1gbwz_GfFBsn/s320/the-birthday-party-1.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />Like <i>The Caretaker</i> and <i>Homecoming</i>, it is a filmed play, but vibrantly done so by young William Friedkin — who later showed his care with filming plays with <i>Boys in the Band</i>, <i>Bug</i>, and <i>Killer Joe</i>. Pinter wrote the screenplay, which, if one needs to nail it down, is about a man (Robert Shaw) hiding out from the Mob at a seaside boardinghouse, who one day is visited by two men (Sydney Tafler, Patrick Magee). This key aspect of the plot is present only in a few pieces of dialogue, as when Magee asks Shaw, “Why did you leave the organization?” (and one realizes this Pinter piece is treading on the same ground as the TV masterwork <i>The Prisoner</i>). <p></p><p>The performances are all top-notch and Friedkin does an excellent job of adding modernist techniques to the traumatic moments (most notably, a scene where violence is occurring in the dark and we see “thermal” bits of imagery). The film was destined to be a cult affair, better regarded years on from its release, as the play itself is a disturbing piece of material that, like many of Pinter’s best works, has a claustrophobic, circuitous feel to it. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsj1I8t-ALJMwEb0BQbGfa0jztDFMk25Z0qPpWXSEXR_GLBLm8w3YaMJ1CnBdYxPuvobMhhcJTFgdtGLjFdKxa3nxLVgkz8B6z0ldB9pIlSUoR8KpacPVF-_hi8E0PD4iyXkYAiFV14A9z2AAVxHGbfDe4W79iBIX1RokfbScAXapp9i4yXYjAWAQ05Yq7/s658/touch%20of%20love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="658" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsj1I8t-ALJMwEb0BQbGfa0jztDFMk25Z0qPpWXSEXR_GLBLm8w3YaMJ1CnBdYxPuvobMhhcJTFgdtGLjFdKxa3nxLVgkz8B6z0ldB9pIlSUoR8KpacPVF-_hi8E0PD4iyXkYAiFV14A9z2AAVxHGbfDe4W79iBIX1RokfbScAXapp9i4yXYjAWAQ05Yq7/w91-h200/touch%20of%20love.jpg" width="91" /></a></div>I’ll close out with a film I’d always wanted to see, since I’m a big fan of Sandy Dennis and also of (still with us, at 85!) Eleanor Bron. The two were costars in the film that Milton Subotsky claimed was his favorite of all the films he produced, <i>A Touch of Love</i> (1969, released in the U.S. as <i>Thank You All Very Much</i>). <i>Touch</i> is a simple drama, a downbeat character study about a single woman (of the kind that Sandy Dennis excelled in) who ends up pregnant when she sleeps with a TV news presenter (a ridiculously young Ian McKellan, in his first movie role). <p></p><p>The film is scripted by Margaret Drabble based on her novel <i>The Millstone</i>, and it is one of those works that reflected the late Sixties/early Seventies preference for films made for adults about adults. Dennis’s English accent is wobbly, but the film’s focus is squarely on her character’s changing emotions about being single and then pregnant (with much talk about the option of abortion, courtesy of Bron’s character outlining that it could be performed legally if it was done to preserve the sanity of the pregnant woman). </p><p>Dennis’s performance is characteristically understated (and a bit neurotic, one of her specialties in both drama and comedy). Bron is the reliable friend who moves in with her when she is pregnant and who serves as a sounding board about the Big Decision that must be made. And, for those keeping count (and aware of <i>SCTV</i>’s “bun in her oven” theory of British kitchen sink cinema), this is indeed another brilliant British drama that does have a woman getting pregnant as its central dilemma.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhsn7V8Uh_AWcI5HF4X-BJyo07OAwCYWtWe9FI_5yfzrq7dwEHfZTT0ul1b-RtKqx2ROx5aO1CVypn48W0JhfqG-qPN9g96znDsLURtPyrmU73_PDaEXFrCjRsKIeVbhd1yr0mMC_8p0YG7sR1Nu5NjABKpux11-2hfpBMwYlBYkDMy9SRSs1y9ycuilo/s2048/Touch%20of%20Love%201969.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1660" data-original-width="2048" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmhsn7V8Uh_AWcI5HF4X-BJyo07OAwCYWtWe9FI_5yfzrq7dwEHfZTT0ul1b-RtKqx2ROx5aO1CVypn48W0JhfqG-qPN9g96znDsLURtPyrmU73_PDaEXFrCjRsKIeVbhd1yr0mMC_8p0YG7sR1Nu5NjABKpux11-2hfpBMwYlBYkDMy9SRSs1y9ycuilo/s320/Touch%20of%20Love%201969.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sandy Dennis and Ian McKellan<br />in <i>A Touch of Love</i> (1969).</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-336050691849790242023-10-22T04:58:00.002-04:002023-10-22T05:00:51.656-04:00Jerry Lewis talks about his preparation for ‘The Day The Clown Cried’ (11 min. interview)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UXdKJRyAgCtRhnWIKEoYbFKPu4VlQToqrbPesx7Kf7ne6kaLnb1qIriJouGJJN-bX0MZVi-0bVLz2rf4WIo-HoJTMScGGxM7eETm5HUpxLl8RYYGvifKIhHPxMMputuxv4jpdNKYAl-j-XLsVn6daP2hnD5L0pycg5i3FDBzeaKFUatmQX6O1jcMmx18/s1861/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-22%20at%204.43.03%20AM.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1861" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UXdKJRyAgCtRhnWIKEoYbFKPu4VlQToqrbPesx7Kf7ne6kaLnb1qIriJouGJJN-bX0MZVi-0bVLz2rf4WIo-HoJTMScGGxM7eETm5HUpxLl8RYYGvifKIhHPxMMputuxv4jpdNKYAl-j-XLsVn6daP2hnD5L0pycg5i3FDBzeaKFUatmQX6O1jcMmx18/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-22%20at%204.43.03%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I’ve been covering Jerry Lewis on the Funhouse TV show since we began back in Sept of 1993 (yes, it was the 30th anniversary last month!). He’s definitely "the Man You Love to Hate to Love to…" Thus, I’ve tried to show the oddest artifacts of his career. In recent years these have been French texts which have praised him to the heavens, but also the trying-to-forgive-him-but-it-was-<i>so-hard</i> memoir by his first wife Patti and the two atrocious French farces he starred in in the 1980s (but then later claimed starred a “lookalike”).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This year I think I hit the jackpot in terms of finding a true gem (thanks goes to superior cineaste Paul Gallagher), and thus I sat at my computer one night watching the very rare doc in question and creating English subtitles for this interview, which was conducted in English but then was overdubbed in French. I won’t mention here who the interviewer is or who directed this particular unseen-outside-of-France doc, because all of that is gone through in my onscreen intro.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If you’d care to jump right to the interview with Jerry, go to 6:30. It will interest diehard fans, though, to know the background details of the documentary, who was involved in its making, and what Jerry had done the preceding day in France to promote the forthcoming filming of his never-finished, never-released masterwork of something or other, “The Day The Clown Cried.”</span></p><p><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/7810698775123" width="345"></iframe></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-4692954789018635212023-08-03T15:16:00.017-04:002023-10-22T05:11:17.620-04:00The most infamously cancelled comedy show, now on YouTube!<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU44W0SEkNXQZbhOuqEV0UviUnE4ABOpiNlAMyV9jKd2Nrs6zkRlW7agS2xBR4qRH7l8jzQ2nFk1Dv4lCC9tYy1mXRLBU4rgLnGyBL5caTkZt0mAOkIhizquCpV1qT4DOlmCXizsRuMszk1VJCYc8Vea6JNpMbqWUuIDsg80jh8zgnZd8Bj5WzN37umIT7/s960/Black%20and%20white%20cops.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU44W0SEkNXQZbhOuqEV0UviUnE4ABOpiNlAMyV9jKd2Nrs6zkRlW7agS2xBR4qRH7l8jzQ2nFk1Dv4lCC9tYy1mXRLBU4rgLnGyBL5caTkZt0mAOkIhizquCpV1qT4DOlmCXizsRuMszk1VJCYc8Vea6JNpMbqWUuIDsg80jh8zgnZd8Bj5WzN37umIT7/w200-h150/Black%20and%20white%20cops.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chuck McCann and<br />Mel Stewart as cops <br />doing an ad for mace.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">[UPDATE: This piece has been updated to now link to the official, authorized postings of these episodes by producer George Schlatter. Unfortunately, these videos are "stretched" to a rectangular image when they were shot in classic TV (1:33) "square" ratio. So they induce a bit of wincing on that level, but now they're legal....] <br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Back when I wrote about </span><a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2021/12/the-pitchman-as-scene-stealer-interview_16.html" style="font-family: helvetica;">the great Robert Staats</a><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, I mentioned the infamous comedy series “Turn-On,” which was the only show to be cancelled as it traveled across the country, from East Coast primetime to West Coast primetime on Feb. 5, 1969. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The show wasn’t as awful as that bit of TV history implies — it was actually way ahead of its time. A far hipper version of “Laugh-In,” it was conceived of by the same production company, Schlatter-Friendly Productions, for ABC. It had no laugh track (which was very unusual for TV comedy in 1969), contained even more complicated edits than “Laugh-In,” and was willing to lose some laughs to get across certain points.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Since both existing episodes of the series are now on YouTube — watch them before they get pulled! – it’s worthwhile to contextualize the series. First, it’s important to note that “Turn-On” showed up several months before Norman Lear’s sitcoms (starting in January 1971) and <i>National Lampoon</i> (starting in April 1970) opened up the floodgates to what is now considered “incorrect” humor but was then considered liberated humor, since it cast a wide net and made fun of absolutely everyone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Secondly, the show featured plenty of ridiculous jokes, but it didn’t talk down to viewers, and assumed they could take the jumps from situation to situation, gag to gag. It was conceived of as "the first computerized TV show."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1ZLrLacK0IUy8nbGjv92Xz5JtvhNFDIB97KTeMtvQat1cv0SO8WctpLwDM-MqpPAJTYhaaPntyCPcP6Q4R6QqdcSamQoKb0BOdfrh0s5sDVuYODJ0ePTcNMwd7lgoiQh_VoIk41vGagd40Sm-LD0Ca_Xio7-CWhPKU95KHzy6oV7NDlrQTbCD_hzdk5A/s960/split%20screen.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1ZLrLacK0IUy8nbGjv92Xz5JtvhNFDIB97KTeMtvQat1cv0SO8WctpLwDM-MqpPAJTYhaaPntyCPcP6Q4R6QqdcSamQoKb0BOdfrh0s5sDVuYODJ0ePTcNMwd7lgoiQh_VoIk41vGagd40Sm-LD0Ca_Xio7-CWhPKU95KHzy6oV7NDlrQTbCD_hzdk5A/s320/split%20screen.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />It actually resembles a sci-fi series or a live-action cartoon in its approach: a solid white background is seen behind the performers (two years before <i>THX-1138</i>), the credits continue to appear throughout the length of the show, and an electronic score is used throughout the first episode.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It is truly wonderful that both existing episodes are now readily available (Staats noted to me that material was prepared for a half-season of shows), as the second show (with guest host Robert Culp) is far better than the first (with guest host Tim Conway), and it never aired at all, because the series was indeed canceled as the first ep was traveling West. It is "calmer" in its approach, since, presumably, Tim Conway signaled "kooky comedy" and Culp signaled "mellow sexuality," so the latter approach is taken in the second show (down to the soundtrack having a light jazz score instead of constant electronic bleeps and blops).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqoOlAHk66OTtNVhEUFRDQAzPTqB29B-2XgaCW5L5Jm2c2Qtd1gyR2Syp56KHZvllwhxQ7JIVuQqzGjT1taaS0E-TktKV9xMJYH69O3fgyMdxR4DPX4GDXzB0wDMJTOg6UBI6GdOKKF1FVy4CFQ1S5rAMajuZ-pbUZ1e0t6O4m9PCW4GcxQyY1Y2UR_ek/s960/Israel%20Uber.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYqoOlAHk66OTtNVhEUFRDQAzPTqB29B-2XgaCW5L5Jm2c2Qtd1gyR2Syp56KHZvllwhxQ7JIVuQqzGjT1taaS0E-TktKV9xMJYH69O3fgyMdxR4DPX4GDXzB0wDMJTOg6UBI6GdOKKF1FVy4CFQ1S5rAMajuZ-pbUZ1e0t6O4m9PCW4GcxQyY1Y2UR_ek/w200-h150/Israel%20Uber.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the quick onscreen<br />lines that jolts a modern-day<br />viewer.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The take-no-prisoners approach to humor on the show meant that it ran the gamut from flagrantly silly blackout material (a la “Laugh-In” and, later on, “Hee-Haw”) to smarter humor to very quick-and-dark jokes. Two of these occur in Episode 1 when you see a series of desks at which the Paris Peace talks (“as dictated by General Ky”) took place — the desks are arranged in a swastika pattern. Also, as we see a court sketch, the phrase “Israel Uber Alles” floats by on the bottom of the screen.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Turn-On” thus mocked hot-button issues (and “tasteless” premises) in a way that “Laugh-In” never would have and which later became the norm for later shows like “Fernwood 2-Night” and, much later, for “Adult Swim” cartoons and live-action series. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The last element that must be mentioned about “Turn-On” is its cast. A bunch of newcomers were featured, but some of the cast were old pros. Mel Stewart and Hamilton Camp were very familiar faces on TV, while Chuck McCann was the nearest to a star “name” the show had (thus the guest hosts). Robert Staats did his “E. Eddie Edwards” pitchman character on the program (plus a more bizarre drag character called “Modren [sic] Bride”). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipA94wHZBiQ4Kkvim7hxGRUTpTmJsOBxxiFudJ-LJP4RTnRCe1IVQYmHNvEbufzd4IeVrsW1CPEozsTn3I1XUVYK0J4JZetCNKhyIJnzWlQbe2a3_MoV5YTVXAKu7aBu7nxSb1vNS72fdhv-tS5Cb3KihgR3vtSUGcPLwuRuVZKfMciHWrh1WXmdVbi_W_/s960/E.%20Eddie.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipA94wHZBiQ4Kkvim7hxGRUTpTmJsOBxxiFudJ-LJP4RTnRCe1IVQYmHNvEbufzd4IeVrsW1CPEozsTn3I1XUVYK0J4JZetCNKhyIJnzWlQbe2a3_MoV5YTVXAKu7aBu7nxSb1vNS72fdhv-tS5Cb3KihgR3vtSUGcPLwuRuVZKfMciHWrh1WXmdVbi_W_/s320/E.%20Eddie.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Robert Staats (credited here as "Bob")<br />as pitchman E. Eddie Edwards.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">That character is best known from <i>The Projectionist</i>, but that film’s release was several months off when the series was shot; Schlatter would’ve seen Staats in a very popular industrial film called “Safety Shoes” (1965). The advertising firm that Staats worked for, Stars and Stripes Productions, is in the credits for “Turn-On” as having supplied segments, most likely animated ones.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYEJULIHI8q40ggDCkDR2XB5odaVv-Bdd-If78RUuaBMNES5lu-CHzECfh8wckuLimTOsYKVIME4sHjnIcGSxf8sFBUqUFahevaG6WGEdVuyqdq4HBLlDiRSIEcn9Anq0sp3THZ3MB7UPZFU4X64Te1u47RUmjiI4EIYx9BXJTkQMhqLiurCZlWlX_wLb/s960/Teresa%20Graves.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoYEJULIHI8q40ggDCkDR2XB5odaVv-Bdd-If78RUuaBMNES5lu-CHzECfh8wckuLimTOsYKVIME4sHjnIcGSxf8sFBUqUFahevaG6WGEdVuyqdq4HBLlDiRSIEcn9Anq0sp3THZ3MB7UPZFU4X64Te1u47RUmjiI4EIYx9BXJTkQMhqLiurCZlWlX_wLb/w200-h150/Teresa%20Graves.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teresa Graves.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It will be noted that the women in the cast participate in all the sketches and some serve as “dancing girls,” a la “Laugh-In.” In fact, the only cast member both shows shared was Teresa Graves, who gets to both do jokes and dance here. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> Another familiar name flies by in the list of scripters.<a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2011/07/comedy-of-discomfort-albert-brooks.html"> Albert Brooks, who at this time was just beginning in show business as a standup, </a>is listed alphabetically among the writers. Also on the second episode, a Ban deodorant ad features a young Ms. Madeline Kahn. (The ads are quite fascinating, since some of them look like the show </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">—</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> white backgrounds, silly behavior </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">—</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> but some are "documentary-style" as in one with Mary Quant promoting AT&T).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here is the first episode, with guest host Tim Conway. [The embeds below are for the authorized versions posted by producer George Schlatter -- I wish they weren't "stretched" into a rectangular ratio! But now they are fully legal...]</span></p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sDpum0Jp7Gw?si=kSxbY8NRzvhGcSLK" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here is the second show, never aired, with guest host Robert Culp.</span></p><p></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XwRYpqTpCU4?si=eYcmBLXLDINSbmNP" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><p><i>Note: Thanks to YouTube poster Andrewgtv05 for their posting of the shows, and friend Jon W. for his pointing them out to me.</i></p></div>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-6275032468873497242023-07-24T16:16:00.070-04:002023-07-24T19:28:28.643-04:00Proud to be a muse, talented in her own right: Deceased Artiste Jane Birkin<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf73Q1QcO871lJGGFKWOZOLpsWnzI4ZNqB3UiDAidPpfjXkVSG83i8OLctytkJai2q2WvnC-c2nBohL-Q4d1zGqEhQK_nK2LzH0hCcVvYUPj_EqDS60h_i-SBcDdXgTy-VEi5o58Md4lD_JN44pV5BzIdvKaf68aryWc-TpdboDmaHzdIu4uvn0PzltuHX/s2048/Jane%206.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2027" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf73Q1QcO871lJGGFKWOZOLpsWnzI4ZNqB3UiDAidPpfjXkVSG83i8OLctytkJai2q2WvnC-c2nBohL-Q4d1zGqEhQK_nK2LzH0hCcVvYUPj_EqDS60h_i-SBcDdXgTy-VEi5o58Md4lD_JN44pV5BzIdvKaf68aryWc-TpdboDmaHzdIu4uvn0PzltuHX/w198-h200/Jane%206.jpeg" width="198" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There is no way I could let the passing of Jane Birkin go by without doing at least a modest tribute to her on this blog. I was lucky enough to conduct an interview with her way (way) back in 2003 when she was in NYC to present her show “Arabesque” — consisting of songs by Gainsbourg with an Arabic </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">backing band at the Alliance Francaise.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />This clip, which is quite short, is one of the most popular
interview clips I’ve posted on that site – you know the one, the one that
doesn’t really approve of “f<span>air use” and has a myriad of rules to keep those who uphold that practice from posting their work. In any case, this is a short little snippet, but that’s what I used to post up there.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SzZvZyqsRwA" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Recently, when “Uncle Jean” (aka Jean-Luc Godard) left us, I went back to the Birkin interview to excerpt her discussion of working with him on <i>Soigne ta droite</i> (1987).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0SVnQIEVaRk" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****<br /><br />Because of her public persona as Gainsbourg's muse (</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">in my talk with her she proclaimed her pride at having inspired and been given the songs by Serge), it was not noted enough by critics that she kept getting better and better as an actress. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">She’s charming as hell in some of her early “dollybird” incarnations, and her beauty is one of the only reasons to watch some of the films she made with Gainsbourg (unless Serge did the score, which gave you two reasons to see the film).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIzK3iU-B4aP5NOrlSyp7d1lFrsaUWqByZTrPkk6qqRw5qAtghNqwCwEd9Kn6GxzxAiGGdv3KvDpeNIzi3_IS8l6OB01sKiOysiUVvlQI5o6zFBwwQC69ZFwLs290Z5U3_R3h4qnzUHir6s7wP8OzGcSvhKkRImOy2sRSWtMWu3unszalCqdIEyHckr4D/s1201/Jane%2011.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="788" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIzK3iU-B4aP5NOrlSyp7d1lFrsaUWqByZTrPkk6qqRw5qAtghNqwCwEd9Kn6GxzxAiGGdv3KvDpeNIzi3_IS8l6OB01sKiOysiUVvlQI5o6zFBwwQC69ZFwLs290Z5U3_R3h4qnzUHir6s7wP8OzGcSvhKkRImOy2sRSWtMWu3unszalCqdIEyHckr4D/s320/Jane%2011.jpeg" width="210" /></a></div>But, as time went on, she began appearing in more demanding roles and, once her relationship with Jacques Doillon had ended, she did indeed become a regularly busy actress who provided particularly wonderful turns in ensemble pieces (as in the two Poirot-by-Ustinov films she’s in) and the work of other New Wave directors, including Resnais, but most especially Rivette. (For whom she starred in <i>Around a Small Mountain</i>, his last film, a “small movie” extraordinaire concerning a very charming middle-aged romance.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For we American fans, the documentary <i>Jane by Charlotte</i> (2021), made by Charlotte Gainsbourg in an effort to understand and relate to her mother, gave us a portrait of Jane that was very much down to earth. She may have been a music, movie, and fashion icon, but she was also a somewhat emotionally distant mother, who, it was revealed in the film, was having health problems.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the film, which lacked a narration by Charlotte and was more of a fly-on-the-wall view of the family (thus requiring that you already knew who Jane, Charlotte, Lou, Kate, Serge, and others were), Jane having a bout with cancer is mentioned in the past tense. In her obits it was noted that she had a stroke in 2021 and had cancelled various commitments in early 2023 because of a broken ankle and a break in her shoulder.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Then she cancelled an appearance at Town Hall in NYC in the summer of last year, having all the tickets refunded, which seemed to indicate something grievous had occurred. No more was heard until the death announcements started appearing online the Sunday before last.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_xNL_RDDjn9YjP7EluB6XE9EFeiOSXF0o5LPYtMRLEqCQqQGlaMLt2PJuKel7oUEU5wOm2dXFbvoYqBmi_Nxjlpu8-TGFDeZTceJ4BQ_FDgxvc7E7XZ28nEbLAfv5uaI4cHYDsbsA640THGnGhLuBaoMl3YRT17w4AC-HURlJp4soWb9GkHGLOaA3uX-/s1591/Jane%2023.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="1591" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_xNL_RDDjn9YjP7EluB6XE9EFeiOSXF0o5LPYtMRLEqCQqQGlaMLt2PJuKel7oUEU5wOm2dXFbvoYqBmi_Nxjlpu8-TGFDeZTceJ4BQ_FDgxvc7E7XZ28nEbLAfv5uaI4cHYDsbsA640THGnGhLuBaoMl3YRT17w4AC-HURlJp4soWb9GkHGLOaA3uX-/s320/Jane%2023.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />As a tribute I offer the following video clips, which relate entirely to her music career. Appraisals of her acting career are best saved for another time, as a number of her French films never appeared on these shores with English subs.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">While her “Symphonique” stage show found her singing only the songs that Serge wrote directly for her (with the orchestra playing Serge’s most familiar songs with Jane offstage), it’s interesting to see that <a href="https://mytaratata.com/taratata/552/jane-birkin-medley-2021">she was on French TV in April of 2021 looking in fine form, performing a Gainsbourg medley of his more, let us say, “familiar” songs.</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">She was <a href="https://youtu.be/K2dMRPs-1Lg">seen in March of 2022 on an interview show</a> discussing her concert performances, her “sketch” film with Agnes Varda (not a great picture — each time I see it, I want to love it, but it seems like more of a not-that-good TV comedy show transposed to film), and the documentary by Charlotte. She looks a bit bigger in this clip but is in good spirits and seems to be in good health.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And here she is on Feb 1 of this year, participating in a protest supporting the people of Myanmar. Her commitment to various causes was the least-seen but most important part of her public appearances:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D8NYyW4EO60" title="YouTube video player" width="344"></iframe> </span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></blockquote><div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCm-Z-7wT76bJH7egTkAvK4JelZU-LH-8jNGsGIjChneBL67c3aRXLa7-ytB7uKSm09Zy1bpoZwZaCY3gJxKHqNrsdiMUNB94LlD-q469KAS7Uo5unbamWpjigCkyr97OXjSobkKgsQGq-1x3yL1FGGFqCmxRDU0ZdKoYlxE3LlDhdadSwNa77Ic4p8yt/s1274/Jane%2030.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1274" data-original-width="817" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdCm-Z-7wT76bJH7egTkAvK4JelZU-LH-8jNGsGIjChneBL67c3aRXLa7-ytB7uKSm09Zy1bpoZwZaCY3gJxKHqNrsdiMUNB94LlD-q469KAS7Uo5unbamWpjigCkyr97OXjSobkKgsQGq-1x3yL1FGGFqCmxRDU0ZdKoYlxE3LlDhdadSwNa77Ic4p8yt/w128-h200/Jane%2030.jpeg" width="128" /></a></div>Many of the TV appearances Jane made with Serge have become
available on DVDs and on fan-generated “mail order” discs. This one, featuring
him <a href="https://youtu.be/vrwXw2ysmLU">lip-synching to two songs from the classic Melody Nelson album while he carries Jane on his back, is one of the more playful clips that hasn’t surfaced on a compilation (yet)</a>.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Serge composed songs for seven of her solo albums (not counting songs for films and random unreleased tracks). The songs ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. One of the latter is “Di-doo-dah,” <a href="https://youtu.be/wACFM-38GK8">heard here with Jane singing it live on the Russell Harty show in 1973</a>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another minor (but catchy) song for Jane by Serge was “Ex-fan des sixties,” wherein the decade’s biggest heroes (either dead or having broken up their band) are recited in a laundry-list fashion. It’s not a major Gainsbourg song, but it’s interesting, as it acknowledges what an incredible impact the pop and rock of the Sixties had on France. (All the artists mentioned are either American or British).</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tXvgdtbzNyc" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Moving from the ridiculous back to the sublime, here is one of the songs that Serge entrusted to Jane that is considered one of his best works which he never sang. It was recited by Catherine Deneuve at Serge’s funeral service and was always in Jane’s repertoire, if she was doing “both sides” of Serge.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The title, “Fuir le bonheur de peur qu'il ne se sauve,” translates loosely as “Fleeing happiness for fear it will run away.” A very helpful YouTube poster named Julia has subtitled the song in English but hasn’t made the video embed-dable for some inexplicable reason. (I always wonder why people make sure their vids are not to be embedded – will that negate the possible copyright claim? Those are either going to come or they’re not; adding the embed function serves to spread your work around more.) </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">You can <a href="https://youtu.be/7mbrID9f9DI">watch the subtitled version here</a>. And<a href="https://youtu.be/Ll6ribfGJVA"> here is the song in its “version originale” with Serge onscreen listening to Jane singing it</a>.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbc4KRpCSsZQwyLuPrwB5X9eP_Ax-uXyQ3y-d1JpZlUFN0V4vq0d3V4kzmCw0yqnJGp_DHvqK1DwFClJzmxzqBGVxRp2G4CnGZqSP53yexyubUW0N4Q9sQ12XhVeP0NnamvQujYdigeLVU-5UEXXwz2RKnM2QykwKinwhzu-kXANZ-d5eMZw8t2q0CM0Pl/s2039/Jane%2015.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2039" data-original-width="1352" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbc4KRpCSsZQwyLuPrwB5X9eP_Ax-uXyQ3y-d1JpZlUFN0V4vq0d3V4kzmCw0yqnJGp_DHvqK1DwFClJzmxzqBGVxRp2G4CnGZqSP53yexyubUW0N4Q9sQ12XhVeP0NnamvQujYdigeLVU-5UEXXwz2RKnM2QykwKinwhzu-kXANZ-d5eMZw8t2q0CM0Pl/s320/Jane%2015.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div><br />Over the years, Jane sang with a number of other performers. Perhaps because her first song was a duet with a guy (“Je t’aime, moi non plus” with Serge), she continued to work very well with male partners. <a href="https://youtu.be/jOuMfjKuQUc">One personal favorite was Bryan Ferry (with whom she sang a Roxy classic).</a> Also, in Bertrand Tavernier’s </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Daddy Nostalgie</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (1990), she duetted with Dirk Bogarde on the song “These Foolish Things,” which Ferry had brought back to life on his first solo LP in 1973.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Je t’aime” was such a big hit in France and England that a follow-up was attempted twice: “69 Anee Erotique” and the “new dance” that Serge proposed (which, let’s face it, was not all that much more than syncopated groping) with this number.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/eGNUnMqMRv8" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Some fascinating footage appears here — Serge personally instructing Jane on how to sing one of his songs for her solo albums. (He definitely conceived of her “choir boy” voice as an instrument to be included in the orchestration of his songs.) Also, Jane talks in 1997 about his death and how he left her 25% ownership of the <i>Melody Nelson</i> album, in case “things went wrong” in her old age.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/c-3OA1q1hxg" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In 2003 when Jane was touring the world with her “Arabesque” show, featuring Gainsbourg songs with arrangements for Arabic instruments, she appeared on various programs in Europe to promote the shows she was doing. Here she performs Serge’s rousing “Elisa,” slowed down and made into a hypnotic ode.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qHYAXkeLf7o" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jane had another touring show after “Arabesque,” but her final major undertaking in terms of musical performance was a show called “Birkin Gainsbourg: The Symphonic” (which sounds much better in French as “Le Symphonique”). The show played here at Carnegie Hall on Feb. 1, 2018, and was an absolute delight. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Only one guest star joined Jane onstage: Rupert Wainwright, who sang "Ces Petits Riens" and "La Chanson de Prevert." <a href="https://youtu.be/-HbuzwN38yg">There is a video of Rufus joining Jane in a different venue here.</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="https://youtu.be/RGSMwcc4g40">The whole "Symphonique" show (minus guest stars and from a different venue) was aired on French TV and can be seen here.</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In Charlotte’s documentary about her mother, it is noted that the only time they sang together onstage was here in NYC at the Beacon Theater on March 6, 2020, a short time before the pandemic lockdowns began. A scan of YT reveals that, while the Beacon show might’ve been their only planned and rehearsed appearance together, they did sing onstage on another occasion.
In 2013 a video was posted of them singing together at a concert in Monaco, duetting on Serge’s “La chanson de Prévert”:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/goFphxNBTJM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Birkin stated in my interview with her that her first-ever performances in the U.S. were for the “Arabesque” tour in 2003, and thus her first-ever NYC performances were the two times she performed that show at the Alliance Francaise. (I saw the second of those two shows and it was wonderful.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Her last performance in NYC was most definitely the Beacon Theater show, as a show that was to take place on my birthday (June 18) was announced for last year (2022) at Town Hall and was cancelled very quickly without explanation. (The mention of cancer in Charlotte’s documentary and the stroke she suffered in September 2021 were alerts that she perhaps was having health problems.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9l5TbAa7L-60l_651WK_7cp7Pcc2tKFSXEwue74-7xUKkZR6jXpOjQyraWgOHpkDDvpIM_h1u5c8fLZgzroOSjOebpz0FqIhS6Fdlci4xusnN7s1_keMD7aW60JgP8BW0XaTdDGDggkDDi3KBZSvx6718XroYMTIXLfUFjWZrbm4TP6tf1ko-7FtMnFxn/s640/Symphonic.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9l5TbAa7L-60l_651WK_7cp7Pcc2tKFSXEwue74-7xUKkZR6jXpOjQyraWgOHpkDDvpIM_h1u5c8fLZgzroOSjOebpz0FqIhS6Fdlci4xusnN7s1_keMD7aW60JgP8BW0XaTdDGDggkDDi3KBZSvx6718XroYMTIXLfUFjWZrbm4TP6tf1ko-7FtMnFxn/s320/Symphonic.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Oddly enough, the first hit you get on Google when searching to find when it was that Jane played her last concert is <a href="https://www.concertarchives.org/bands/jane-birkin">the thoroughly unreliable Concert Archives site, which lists the cancelled June 18, 2022 gig as if it actually took place.</a> One wonders how many other cancelled performances are on the pages of this website….</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In any case, the reason to re-see the Symphonique show at the Beacon was that, this around, Jane had invited guest stars to join her onstage. So I attended the show and was very glad to see Jane duetting with both Iggy Pop (!) and Charlotte G. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jane chose to sing “Ballade de Johnny-Jane,” from the soundtrack of Serge’s film <i>Je t’aime, moi non plus</i> (1976), with Charlotte. This was an interesting choice, as it first appeared on the soundtrack to the film and is an odd song that refers to the film in its lyrics. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWr6OjxtbJ7rn10_uJL6NF5m7iVirTSDhvXI3xw5pSEGTuGOgWtGpxeuHxEslxcwdrCOcZrUKynn1XNomQdpVINq06esM9toLxdrD4Wvm19jGf0j-lXqD0-JRny1IzYC3FJx3W_OJpq3o_RM1DIu-EE4ykttnUYZmSv-EqR5qhHfMLrV4w2SxBtnB3pd9/s960/Jane%20B.%20Joe%20D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="960" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWr6OjxtbJ7rn10_uJL6NF5m7iVirTSDhvXI3xw5pSEGTuGOgWtGpxeuHxEslxcwdrCOcZrUKynn1XNomQdpVINq06esM9toLxdrD4Wvm19jGf0j-lXqD0-JRny1IzYC3FJx3W_OJpq3o_RM1DIu-EE4ykttnUYZmSv-EqR5qhHfMLrV4w2SxBtnB3pd9/s320/Jane%20B.%20Joe%20D.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It also, oddly enough, was a song that Jane duetted on with Vanessa Paradis. The latter is a surprise, since Vanessa had Serge write the lyrics for her second album about a year before his death. She was the only artist who requested he do rewrites on some of the lyrics, and he wound up wisecracking, “Paradis, c’est l’enfer” (“Paradis, it was hell”). <a href="https://youtu.be/0uGaXMu1WC4">Here are Jane and Vanessa singing “Johnny-Jane.”</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And here is some lovely YT poster’s very good recording of mother and daughter singing father’s movie theme song:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SoIdA0LLJfM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now further down the rabbit hole, we can thank YT poster “secularus” for posting not only the preceding video, but also videos of the two songs that Jane did with Iggy at the Beacon. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first was “Elisa,” which they had also done the preceding evening on “The Tonight Show” with that grinning, chuckling idiot as host. The “Tonight Show” people made sure that there is no post of that performance on YT. All the better to watch this dynamic duo perform it onstage:</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/05uagallKfU" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Iggy first tackled Gainsbourg’s lyrics with <a href="https://youtu.be/14fVZliOLaY">a tuneful cover of “La Javanaise” in 2012 (on his album <i>Apres</i>)</a>. Far closer to the spirit of his own songs is Serge’s “Requiem pour un con,” which taunts the listener and calls them an “ass” (or twat, in one online translation that I think is a bit too loose and a bit too British). Here Iggy does the song with Jane:</span></div><div><br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Zi5UgDrXDm4" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe>
</div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><p class="yiv2732333106ydpcc25018bwestern" style="background: white; line-height: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The song that Jane ended all of her Gainsbourg shows with was the aforementioned “La Javanaise.” It was written by Serge for Juliette Greco, who had the initial hit with it. Serge also recorded it himself and sang it in some of his live shows, later in his career.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jane’s performances of it were always especially moving, as her voice cracked throughout it, and it always seemed like the song’s simplicity made it the perfect way to end a tribute to Serge. Especially because this most romantic of tunes, set in a waltz tempo, actually says that the couple dancing will be in love “for the length of a song.”</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLXSR-fmEuA_aO5zDWT6vZ-pxsC02kXiiSBZY2ugN9XO79qbzQGBF8AHvcfbwV0GILQfpgef6pZLW-tf2LZEUY-itxW8EhvaqfOKsq7k1T_4eKnfImiZMz4acz2YgKaSny3YIHw-3mucp8AGaBheSZ219NfGevUxOM5Xnmh4fPvRlNsuifgfG1IR28Y1zO/s1084/Jane%2010.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1084" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLXSR-fmEuA_aO5zDWT6vZ-pxsC02kXiiSBZY2ugN9XO79qbzQGBF8AHvcfbwV0GILQfpgef6pZLW-tf2LZEUY-itxW8EhvaqfOKsq7k1T_4eKnfImiZMz4acz2YgKaSny3YIHw-3mucp8AGaBheSZ219NfGevUxOM5Xnmh4fPvRlNsuifgfG1IR28Y1zO/s320/Jane%2010.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />In one particular rendition she did on a Gainsbourg tribute on French TV, the audience sang the song along with her, which made it perhaps the most stirring tribute to Serge ever (with the French public so familiar with his signature song that they took over from the onstage singer). That version doesn’t appear to be on YT (or is tucked away somewhere), so I’ll end with a different version, in which Jane sings the whole song alone.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This is from a charity benefit show she participated in back in 2017. She is wearing sneakers and an old-looking pullover, and is sporting a cast on her left arm. This makes the performance even more endearing, as if she was going to keep singing Serge’s music no matter what happened to her health-wise. And she did, for which we can only be intensely grateful.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M7UdO61wrHg" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Note: Thanks to Despina Veneti her excellent sampling of Jane B. photos.</i></span></div></div>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-81069235329002490522023-06-29T15:19:00.033-04:002023-06-29T16:56:28.017-04:00Sam Fuller’s “missing” first novel: ‘Burn, Baby, Burn!’ (1935)<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIykdy3LN696Jk6KUS6r7otXSTRaIWqlevtRoQR-XBLvpZJpgfU42009grjpuP7RnJdEIguos_ipXZIdB4Sv9PYJdRudMu3fLYR8Vd5sysna42CGROrG_uqAwXlZd5nJLIfqGQd0YbJbPHSH-FXO41V9lPmmHnE3E5HTQs0yLhUl1VflGc4GRYQKgK0MYJ/s1600/Burn,%20Baby%20Burn.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIykdy3LN696Jk6KUS6r7otXSTRaIWqlevtRoQR-XBLvpZJpgfU42009grjpuP7RnJdEIguos_ipXZIdB4Sv9PYJdRudMu3fLYR8Vd5sysna42CGROrG_uqAwXlZd5nJLIfqGQd0YbJbPHSH-FXO41V9lPmmHnE3E5HTQs0yLhUl1VflGc4GRYQKgK0MYJ/w144-h200/Burn,%20Baby%20Burn.jpeg" width="144" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The book (sans dust-jacket)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Everybody’s gotta start someplace. Samuel Fuller started his writing career in journalism, moving up from paper boy to copy boy to full-fledged reporter, filing stories just as fast as he could write them. His work as a newspaperman infused his later screenplays (for other directors and himself) and most certainly his dozen novels.<br /><br />I’ll try to cover his most accessible (read: not super-costly) novels in another post, but I was lucky enough to find a copy of his debut book, <i>Burn, Baby, Burn</i> (1935) for a reasonable price (read: more than I ordinarily pay, but this one normally goes for thousands). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s a slight book but is fun as an artifact of his first period in Hollywood in the 1930s. During this period, Sam (identified that way on the cover; his later books were credited to Samuel [or Samuel Michael] Fuller) was not above sketching Hollywood by including laundry lists of movie stars and noted newspaper columnists. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When the lead character talks to his fellow reporters about him going to Hollywood, he explains: “… I’m going to be a writer. You know, write all that high-class stuff you see credited to guys like Norman Krasna, Nat Perrin, Art Sheekman and —” (<i>Burn, Baby, Burn</i>, Phoenix Press, New York, 1935, [p. 23]) Fuller even puts Perrin (who he notes “resembled Chico Marx, the comedian.” [p. 140]) and Louella Parsons into the novel, talking to the protagonists. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">At a later point, the lead takes a friend to a ritzy Hollywood restaurant:</span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “You sap,” said Open, “this is the classiest place in town. Only the nicest people come here. Look, there’s Jean Harlow and William Powell. And over there is Mary Astor and George S. Kaufman. And right behind you is Marion Davies and Irene Dunne. And you … you lug … you order beer after a lecture on liquor like that.” [p. 181] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
The plot is very simple: reporter Open Braddagher finds himself hired by a Hollywood studio after he writes about a celebrated murder case. (The reporter is nicknamed “Open” because of “his cocksure blatherskite tactics on assignments.” [p. 9]) </span><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5DRqDDrn1pq8kFK8eNmVA38lMoLb2NQ52g6OcbjTeOT4kPgefObCp9oTAWQqzhn1kIvqtU2oLovVV-6Xr9DI2ag07WtDMxfTFUWRPNVmylPCSMTH9cuYRMIUpN205ARObIRNSxViyb4xuRAcRTmlR1KxSfBym9AvmpyfdpyTb_JSUPHuA7SObjfS5Noz/s400/Fuller%20Confirm%20or%20Deny%20pic%201941.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="340" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5DRqDDrn1pq8kFK8eNmVA38lMoLb2NQ52g6OcbjTeOT4kPgefObCp9oTAWQqzhn1kIvqtU2oLovVV-6Xr9DI2ag07WtDMxfTFUWRPNVmylPCSMTH9cuYRMIUpN205ARObIRNSxViyb4xuRAcRTmlR1KxSfBym9AvmpyfdpyTb_JSUPHuA7SObjfS5Noz/w170-h200/Fuller%20Confirm%20or%20Deny%20pic%201941.png" width="170" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam Fuller (left) with<br />Don Ameche, 1941.</td></tr></tbody></table>On the train to Hollywood, he sits in the dining car across from an attractive woman who pays him no mind. Upon his arrival in Tinseltown he settles in for what he thinks will be a good run as a high-paid screenwriter. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But the young woman from the train turns out to be a small-town reporter named Margot Campbell who scoops him by quickly writing a script about the same murder case he was supposed to write about. He is ruined by the success of the movie she wrote (which is produced very quickly by a “poverty row” studio) and returns to NYC. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">His big “comeback” in the news business is the “Electric Chair Baby” story, about a woman who’s set to be executed whom Braddagher finds out is pregnant. Open realizes this is his big chance to break an important story — even if he fudges the details a bit. He gets the exclusive on the story and manufactures a melodramatic tale that is syndicated to various papers around the country. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcbGT9tq9aTKxXrj2pjCURDRjyJzhXytOXoh7INLGF8s7QsIKJ3tFJnjItpfAKhodt4ADnk4BAo3fU97d9QcBfoXC-osXgBasYZCKDNFbWPbjvzygCvEVrXQcliYjoVrTdpcHSxl1vrDkxrKtqSeJGMo31a0kWgPzbYso2QF_CCZzN5Kt1qTA2N028Ubl/s2910/Good%20148-49.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2223" data-original-width="2910" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPcbGT9tq9aTKxXrj2pjCURDRjyJzhXytOXoh7INLGF8s7QsIKJ3tFJnjItpfAKhodt4ADnk4BAo3fU97d9QcBfoXC-osXgBasYZCKDNFbWPbjvzygCvEVrXQcliYjoVrTdpcHSxl1vrDkxrKtqSeJGMo31a0kWgPzbYso2QF_CCZzN5Kt1qTA2N028Ubl/w200-h153/Good%20148-49.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM13iYT3Cw69sxMct23NlAP7vSnr-iJee9o9BOJoF0JRCO9HD2XWdFll3m4A3ZLhh3uMmkI6JKcb4b-uUyxUgYMY9WbcHuD5TWSRwG8YkB4Nrk6Sr_ArB1Kxr-qX1qTYBOe8SBCLypE3EmvB61SBwTJBRpjd482aZC2DheDoKItJ__VkpySYwLSsa91sn7/s2960/Good%20150-51.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2094" data-original-width="2960" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM13iYT3Cw69sxMct23NlAP7vSnr-iJee9o9BOJoF0JRCO9HD2XWdFll3m4A3ZLhh3uMmkI6JKcb4b-uUyxUgYMY9WbcHuD5TWSRwG8YkB4Nrk6Sr_ArB1Kxr-qX1qTYBOe8SBCLypE3EmvB61SBwTJBRpjd482aZC2DheDoKItJ__VkpySYwLSsa91sn7/w200-h141/Good%20150-51.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2L6MHxBkSDkqnlk5RWBfUkWdZR-Vxp0VCJk7fS_NqVuFcG__DHNvNmqGKkXRBf_ESpc6y9EdnLIyzJVhDuGbEO64zYawQIp3wTrweKRyMfHV5pHqMMy3YPkil3d3FD83ILWu38pjXUmrQPTZ6xwVDz9-clF518mHPSw4b8ymDt_IpvSTwhk8Ywzi3aitR/s2864/Good%20152-53.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2222" data-original-width="2864" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2L6MHxBkSDkqnlk5RWBfUkWdZR-Vxp0VCJk7fS_NqVuFcG__DHNvNmqGKkXRBf_ESpc6y9EdnLIyzJVhDuGbEO64zYawQIp3wTrweKRyMfHV5pHqMMy3YPkil3d3FD83ILWu38pjXUmrQPTZ6xwVDz9-clF518mHPSw4b8ymDt_IpvSTwhk8Ywzi3aitR/w200-h155/Good%20152-53.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbZjUwEnNtMCirmGhB9m0U0ykiOIhFaenAZibIex-YCmSlVa_obhSgSfIg2Gcp06vaZhC0hvauXnMzXnsfIWKORzhd_-nlZMFmXOOxEIKXAXezXsDzrYKiDaNizxrRlAIp6sADZzQaNHa5ojMsTo9cgPo78AiQbG4yD-sKUL5XDk350I4FjS6q80yWivN/s2232/Good%20154.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2232" data-original-width="1574" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbZjUwEnNtMCirmGhB9m0U0ykiOIhFaenAZibIex-YCmSlVa_obhSgSfIg2Gcp06vaZhC0hvauXnMzXnsfIWKORzhd_-nlZMFmXOOxEIKXAXezXsDzrYKiDaNizxrRlAIp6sADZzQaNHa5ojMsTo9cgPo78AiQbG4yD-sKUL5XDk350I4FjS6q80yWivN/w141-h200/Good%20154.jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br />The nationwide success of his articles brings him back to Hollywood where he becomes an actor-scripter and scores big with a movie version of the Electric Chair Baby story (called “Life Begins”). He takes revenge on Margot by hiring her to write the sequel for him. He humiliates her in public, to get even for her previously scooping him. She walks off the picture and isn’t heard from for a while, leaving all to assume she’s returned to her former papers (in Evansville and Rochester, Minn). </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Open then pitches a gigantic epic sequel (called “Life Begins Again”) in which the viewer is given various details about the birth of a baby. The film is finished and then (only then, since this is a comedy) the studio finds that the Hays Office (the famed H'wood censor of the time) is banning the film for revealing “how a baby is born.” The studio takes a giant financial hit as a result and Open is fired. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He spends the money he had collected from his salary on various trips (and drinking — Open does a LOT of drinking in this book). He then finally ends up (no surprise) back in NYC as a reporter. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He finally gets another plum story — a bomb has gone off in the 14th Street subway stop. (Attributed to a bunch of “Reds.”) Open immediately plans a special angle on it but gets arrested by a cop who has a grudge against him. He finds the next day that he’s a star reporter again — for Margot somehow (don’t ask) filed his story for him in time to scoop the other papers. The two reporters are reunited and admit their love for each other leading to... a happy ending.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></div><div><i style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></i></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Burn</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> is certainly not a major work by Fuller, but it does show him in a different light, tackling the screwball comedy genre — because our two reporter protagonists are both heartsick with love for each other, but are both hardboiled types who are too stubborn to admit it — and will even ruin their own lives in the process of not admitting it. Until, of course, it’s time for the “final clinch” and for them to reveal their love for each other. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He thus plots the book so that Margot is sketched as a logical, talented writer and Open is a creature of instinct who knows how to “sell” a story. Margot’s love for Open remains no matter what he does to her and, true to the genre (one thinks of the ultimate newspaper romance, </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">His Girl Friday</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">), he does pile on a lot of punishment — but also secretly burns for her. (Thus, the profuse drinking and his jealousy whenever she’s seen in the company of any other man.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The drawback is that the book is unadulterated humor and, as demonstrated by his films, Fuller’s sense of humor was sharpest when it was ironic or dark. He chose Hollywood as the setting for </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Burn</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, and mocks the town playfully — perhaps because he was still hoping to sell his stories for big bucks? The other location is one he knew intimately, a NYC newspaper.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW90fEMjMyij3fY2OzG4Z-xB3tM41H_zaYD56BoaAIUPcfetFoNox5atYNPgnqa0CcvicXnIQprr9YCry0SllWqs8miEDrwE1ZW1mTqIr4koMoRNLK0Ginlv8wny4UUNcrxmHnO3fC8U44AS3YKEzs4t7Tzt8mjxruq-fVGDDvUKnBhmxONRr23WK_5snx/s443/Young%20Sam,%20newspaperman.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="443" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW90fEMjMyij3fY2OzG4Z-xB3tM41H_zaYD56BoaAIUPcfetFoNox5atYNPgnqa0CcvicXnIQprr9YCry0SllWqs8miEDrwE1ZW1mTqIr4koMoRNLK0Ginlv8wny4UUNcrxmHnO3fC8U44AS3YKEzs4t7Tzt8mjxruq-fVGDDvUKnBhmxONRr23WK_5snx/s320/Young%20Sam,%20newspaperman.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The famous photo of young Sam<br />as a newspaperman.</td></tr></tbody></table>Fuller also seeks to emulate the newspapermen who became authors of humorous short stories. Modern readers are most familiar with the names Ring Lardner and Damon Runyon. Runyon, in particular, created his own universe of crooks, gamblers, and losers, by adopting a present-tense, side-of-the-mouth type of speech to tell stories that were allegories and morality plays in gangster get-up.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Fuller didn’t write third-person Runyonese, but he does have his characters move back into newspaperman speak and street talk at some points. (In his movies, there are many examples of this kind of dialogue; one of the most famous is Gene Evans in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Steel Helmet</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> yelling at a wounded soldier, “If you die, I’ll kill you!”)</span></div><div><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “Oh yeah,” ranted Open. “Well, listen to me, you babies. I’m through with you and the work you stand for. Work!” He spat on the floor. “You hang around and chase drowning kids, fire engines and emergency trucks. For what? I have plenty of gorgeous dolls, lots of dough, cases of Rye and a swell apartment. Why, I’ll even have —”
</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Aw, shut up. Quit having a pipe dream. Hollywood’s crowded with more pen-pushers than the city jail can hold,” said Blue. “Forget it, big-shot. Go back to the Mail and pound your Royal. It needed a new ribbon the last time I saw it.” [pp. 24-25] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
Another jab, this time at Hollywood execs. The exec is on the phone with a friend who invites him to a prestigious H’wood party:
</span><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “Who’s going to be there?” asked Pfiffer.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Oh, Louis B. Mayer, Darryl Zanuck, Ismael R. Alvarez, Sam Goldwyn, Ving Fuller, that famous New York cartoonist, J. Walter Ruben, Jesse Lasky, Patricia Ellis, Sylvia Sidney — hell, Pfiffer, everyone that’s anyone will be there.”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Nope -— nope, Brock. I don’t think I can make it.”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“But why not? I’m depending on you for good stories.”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“When is this?”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Now. They’re coming in already. It’s something new in Hollywood. A day-time party.”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Nope, Brock, I’m sorry — I can’t come over there now.”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“But tell me — why not?” Brock insisted.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“I have to go over to the hospital to see my grandfather who’s dying….”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Oh… that’s too bad...”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“But I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Brock.”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Yes?”</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“I’ll join you as soon as he dies.” [pp. 209-10] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
*****</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Not so surprising, however, is the fact that Sam was able to quickly and brilliantly sketch a disaster in the breathless style of a great reporter. Here is that passage, which connects directly with his best work as a filmmaker: </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklZ5zeJxK7JKPrK0s-ehoyuMAF9fcUOQDRiCv5w9kCWPiWhk6WbvF7Y8rGPMNfgpT3Awb7QiiRszocQTx8IrTw_c0ts-4eyFdhGs_hzswHHeZTG0CNaZsctQjqDFGYDcRdC-33dTZ7p7DsoHGGGy7tv-FDhyTQBLHk-lZBETymjvjp-dDHQIGaYwjNAG9/s3001/Good%20238-39.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2233" data-original-width="3001" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklZ5zeJxK7JKPrK0s-ehoyuMAF9fcUOQDRiCv5w9kCWPiWhk6WbvF7Y8rGPMNfgpT3Awb7QiiRszocQTx8IrTw_c0ts-4eyFdhGs_hzswHHeZTG0CNaZsctQjqDFGYDcRdC-33dTZ7p7DsoHGGGy7tv-FDhyTQBLHk-lZBETymjvjp-dDHQIGaYwjNAG9/w200-h149/Good%20238-39.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMq8QJn31wnFY7k_SsXBtZmMHZ6kz_n48Ctg4SozsTw_6DBzgb-ApNSVVInxHQVfmFpf5xCQYiTp87EHVtUqBtiA1BbG8D-kMnBXeUvDFQ61lG75_--i_TQz_GUpGmqKMPRbhpI5fNPiSm3LLKJ3XubgoXRLunmgHRP7Utb9VYghx8eht-qXTn3HaKBhJ/s2208/Good%20240.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2208" data-original-width="1479" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmMq8QJn31wnFY7k_SsXBtZmMHZ6kz_n48Ctg4SozsTw_6DBzgb-ApNSVVInxHQVfmFpf5xCQYiTp87EHVtUqBtiA1BbG8D-kMnBXeUvDFQ61lG75_--i_TQz_GUpGmqKMPRbhpI5fNPiSm3LLKJ3XubgoXRLunmgHRP7Utb9VYghx8eht-qXTn3HaKBhJ/w134-h200/Good%20240.jpg" width="134" /></a></div><br />*****<br /><br />The most intriguing thing about the novel at first glance, of course, is its title. It’s not noted anywhere online that the phrase “Burn, baby, burn!” existed before the 1960s, but it is recorded on many African American history sites (and the ever-dubious-but-has-footnotes Wikipedia) that the r&b/soul DJ known as “Magnificent Montague” used it as a tagline on his show, and then it became a rallying cry during the 1965 Watts riots.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Fuller uses it in this novel as a variation on “Go, baby, go!” or “Fume all ya want!” The first use of it occurs when Open is “all burned up” at Margot for offering to finance him when he’s down on his luck after she scoops his script. She yells down to him from her window at the studio, and…
</span><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “People stared up at the figure of the beautiful blonde. Open halted in his tracks, deciding to see what the pest wanted, and looked up.
</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Margot timed her words, noticing the color in Open’s face turn from an ordinary red to the brightest, most scarlet tint as she shouted at the top of her voice:
</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“<i>Burn, baby, burn!</i>” [p. 132] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
The second appearance of the phrase is as a title for Open’s big-budget follow up to his Electric Chair Baby movie. A movie mogul explains to him:
</span><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “… Look at Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler. Warner Brothers are cleaning up with musicals. Wait – I got a fine hallucination this minute. I can see the electric chair in the middle of the set. Twenty Tycoon [a fictional studio in the book] beauties on one side, twenty Tycoon beauties on the other — a hot routine — plenty of smoke — like a fire — and we name it <i>Burn, Baby Burn!</i> Now, what about it?” [p. 178] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
The final time the phrase is used is at the very end of the book, during the “final clinch”:
</span><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “The flashlight snapped Open out of it. Everyone in the editorial department laughed and applauded. This time his face was ten times redder than Stalin’s best nightgown.
</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Margot threw her arms around the crimsoned-face Open, kissed him again and again, shouting:
</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“<i>Burn, baby, burn!</i>” [p. 246] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
*****</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wstUE11Z8VI8vnSFQhNgJfYXmPhe5HbzdFLcTrr--5bte-ovGzREpysgDyaCCu2BCe_W-0tFUvud-qvcDgNHkbTaDTYkkdmz7r18lees1HdtfG2znmZM1VEsQ32Af1wL4EOM--FUdLsY0rpySPT3mddxGyfcuZ1OLlfzzkt4nR1LPbNJeaSRIan9d8ZC/s1000/Il%20etais.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="636" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wstUE11Z8VI8vnSFQhNgJfYXmPhe5HbzdFLcTrr--5bte-ovGzREpysgDyaCCu2BCe_W-0tFUvud-qvcDgNHkbTaDTYkkdmz7r18lees1HdtfG2znmZM1VEsQ32Af1wL4EOM--FUdLsY0rpySPT3mddxGyfcuZ1OLlfzzkt4nR1LPbNJeaSRIan9d8ZC/w127-h200/Il%20etais.jpg" width="127" /></a></div>Most interesting is reading Sam’s own mentions of the book, as he took the Electric Chair Baby plot and made it seem that that it was the central part of the book (and the reason for him writing it). In the untranslated book-length interview <i>Il etait une fois… Samuel Fuller</i>, Fuller told Jean Narboni and Noel Simsolo that an editor encouraged him to write a book.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“There was a question that was close to my heart: is it legal, is it moral to execute a condemned woman if she is pregnant? So I wrote <i>Burn, Baby, Burn</i> as a response.” (<i>Il Etait Une Fois… Samuel Fuller</i>, Narboni and Simsolo, Cahiers du Cinema, 1986, translation mine [p. 60]) He never returns to <i>Burn</i> in this interview and thus makes it seem as if all of <i>Burn</i> is about the Electric Chair Baby.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He is closer to an accurate description of the plot in his autobiography <i>A Third Face</i>, after he repeats the same contention (that the entire reason the book was written was because of a subplot that only takes up a few pages in the book). He starts out with a discussion of the subplot:
</span><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> “The yarn kicks off with a pregnant woman condemned to die in the electric chair. I must have been so obsessed with the electric chair that I used it as a fictional hook, finding a release for some of my nightmarish memories of prisoners getting fried at Sing Sing. Is it moral to execute a condemned woman <i>and</i> her innocent, unborn child? My hero is a hotshot New York reporter, named Bradagher [sic], who covers the story. The young wise guy accepts an offer from a Hollywood bigwig to go out to the West Coast and develop his articles about the case [wrong case] into a movie script. The brash, fast-talking, whiskey-drinking Bradagher thinks he’s got the world by the tail. Then he falls for a gorgeous blonde who happens to be a reporter-turned-screenwriter, too….</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“I got a big kick out of spinning that tale, weaving in tributes to Park Row mentors like Gene Fowler, knocking out an unrepentant love story, shifting scenes from Manhattan to Hollywood and the world of studio screenwriting. The Hollywood stuff in Burn, Baby, Burn came from my brief visit to see Fowler in la-la land during my hobo period.” [<i>A Third Face</i>, Samuel Fuller, with Christa Lang Fuller and Jerome Henry Rudes, Applause Theater and Cinema Books, 2002 [pp. 77-78] </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fcMKgnbd3km6YIExBZtxfyAG6oBu0mkrjd0XBMHHSlbZ05WWOQ-1L8CTtHBDQfPmf13FpbKKoO2KoGd6rqv2Zkf9JgWuIHpRPZAFFnUtdR9ptWwYEpdbY9ztivD46jqjKG35uDHzf55nVI7GTEIUIuXM_MYQVHRYS9qLPphexdWCld-mTF2jKSRj_18D/s1000/third%20face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="667" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fcMKgnbd3km6YIExBZtxfyAG6oBu0mkrjd0XBMHHSlbZ05WWOQ-1L8CTtHBDQfPmf13FpbKKoO2KoGd6rqv2Zkf9JgWuIHpRPZAFFnUtdR9ptWwYEpdbY9ztivD46jqjKG35uDHzf55nVI7GTEIUIuXM_MYQVHRYS9qLPphexdWCld-mTF2jKSRj_18D/w133-h200/third%20face.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br />Sam then goes on to tell Fowler and Dorothy Parker stories. He concludes the section on the book by noting that it was serialized in <i>American Weekly</i> magazine. He refers to the novel as “pulp fiction,” which it really could only be labelled as such if one considers all non-literary fiction to be pulp fiction. He adds, “It got one printing run, and I got a check for a grand or two. That was that, no reprints or backlisting.” [p. 78] </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnGYHZ6r_DBk5PgVy9c35_Ffrd4zMjqqNp8o4J6WwFWsN0TPEOyz3ISxX4oXi5l1DW63Z3FDcE9u5BoiMXeHwdCjNygec6Wg05bI94gCLu4eEIlow9dzor9kq4lOxEom6qporcvbNR4Yaz_t9WkU5X_OBpO-biBv1ryJ37G3kLRtWLqotWCdViozw48AC/s1600/Burn,%20Baby,%20Burn%20copyright%20page.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1346" data-original-width="1600" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnGYHZ6r_DBk5PgVy9c35_Ffrd4zMjqqNp8o4J6WwFWsN0TPEOyz3ISxX4oXi5l1DW63Z3FDcE9u5BoiMXeHwdCjNygec6Wg05bI94gCLu4eEIlow9dzor9kq4lOxEom6qporcvbNR4Yaz_t9WkU5X_OBpO-biBv1ryJ37G3kLRtWLqotWCdViozw48AC/w200-h168/Burn,%20Baby,%20Burn%20copyright%20page.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />He also explains the book’s dedication: Perc Westmore, he says, was “one of the most important makeup artists of the day. Perc had been very helpful by showing me around the studios, giving me an insider’s look at Hollywood.”</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjC6kQT9RezosNdSIsiXd0C9crvTnsfo5sdWOHseA_7WaFIBZoPjBCHpS0nBSdn3RayQRfWChcFDdQUhuj75hU35pRETGPIwWUFX-eTOM9wbLzywX9kAip1rZqXnT0ipoIsigCQ8kK9PBxzQ3LEe5jo31061XswZBRu12xgayKqJirPJdHWRSk0smRwhRn/s1733/Test%20Tube%20Baby_cover.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1733" data-original-width="1273" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjC6kQT9RezosNdSIsiXd0C9crvTnsfo5sdWOHseA_7WaFIBZoPjBCHpS0nBSdn3RayQRfWChcFDdQUhuj75hU35pRETGPIwWUFX-eTOM9wbLzywX9kAip1rZqXnT0ipoIsigCQ8kK9PBxzQ3LEe5jo31061XswZBRu12xgayKqJirPJdHWRSk0smRwhRn/w147-h200/Test%20Tube%20Baby_cover.jpeg" width="147" /></a></div>Burn</i> is one of four novels by Sam that are hard to find at a reasonable price. Two of these have been written up in blog entries by souls who were lucky enough to happen upon copies — <a href="http://www.pulp-serenade.com/2022/12/test-tube-baby-by-sam-fuller-1936.html">his second novel, <i>Test Tube Baby</i> (1936), is summarized and reviewed here</a>. The two “Baby” novels usually go for thousands, very definitely so if they are being sold with the dust-jacket intact. (My copy of “Burn” has no jacket, and there appear to be no images of the original jacket online.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Fuller’s own movie tie-in novel for his film <i>The Naked Kiss</i> is another rarity that sells for high prices, most likely because it was given a low print run. The odd thing is that one can find the preceding Fuller tie-in novel, <i>Shock Corridor</i>, which was written by tie-in specialist Michael Avallone, in its English edition and in translation in several languages. <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/richardhyfler/2010/09/20/the-naked-kiss-novelization-part-1/?sh=69c8691e372a">The paperback <i>Naked Kiss</i> is summarized and reviewed here.</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Two other Fuller novels are unfindable because one is rarer than rare (<i>Make Up and Kiss</i>, 1938) and the other because it was never issued in an English version (<i>The Rifle</i>). It should be noted — in the “American cultural gods and goddesses are more revered overseas than they are in their home country” department — that Sam’s novels from <i>Dark Page</i> on have remained in print in France and other European countries for decades. In translation, of course.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And, for movie trivia buffs, it’s interesting to note that the year after Sam wrote <i>Burn</i>, he cowrote a screenplay about rival press agents promoting the expositions in adjoining Texas cities for the B-movie musical <i>Hats Off</i> starring John Payne and Mae Clarke. The film was his first onscreen credit, for “original story and screenplay” with cowriter Edmund Joseph.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film puts the rivalry/love affair in the foreground for most of its running time, as we watch the couple dating and hatching their respective plans to promote the expositions. Clarke has lied to Payne about her identity, so that she can find out his plans for promoting the other city; the two go on dates while Payne is unaware that she is his primary rival.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEFDLahWTeK2zmlNgE9I5JWCh0CgM0jQIHLDdk4wQ3WLvSmJjYwV8lK_myiVl683Y7HoY-g_SRAR1CsQJTsp6B1nfZe_tNp725IbN8UYcvSC21VRP2I-UKoibFUEjdh-UqoUtA7LdIH4oRUeVF-hco7sdjiGfIwHKi9vks7TemV7aKY5uuUEl4OLbquA1/s1333/Hats%20Off%20poster.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEFDLahWTeK2zmlNgE9I5JWCh0CgM0jQIHLDdk4wQ3WLvSmJjYwV8lK_myiVl683Y7HoY-g_SRAR1CsQJTsp6B1nfZe_tNp725IbN8UYcvSC21VRP2I-UKoibFUEjdh-UqoUtA7LdIH4oRUeVF-hco7sdjiGfIwHKi9vks7TemV7aKY5uuUEl4OLbquA1/w150-h200/Hats%20Off%20poster.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>The most interesting and amusing layer added to the relationship is that Mae Clarke’s character is hiding her identity (because, she claims, women can’t get jobs as publicists), so fey character actor Franklyn Pangborn is recruited to play her. (Her name is “Jo,” so Pangborn becomes “Joe.”) The weirdest twist: to announce a boxing match held in one city’s exposition, two singing trios describe every punch and knockdown in song.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In his autobiography <i>A Third Face</i>, Sam outlines his initial script for the film, noting that it set the rivalry in prehistoric times for comic effect. He says that director Boris Petroff “cut out all the political aspects of my story” and “kept only the most absurd stuff.” His final take on it? “… the finished film had just about nothing to do with my original story.” (<i>A Third Face</i> [pp. 85-86])</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In this case, as in <i>Burn</i>, the woman is the one who capitulates (letting Payne stage her biggest idea, a show put on by a Broadway NYC impresario). Payne ultimately feels guilty, but then the couple end up back together just before the credits roll — and all in one hour! B-movies had to tightly constructed, above all else.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film is up on YT from a few different posters. <a href="https://youtu.be/NC2mG5lJuI0">I watched this version.</a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Given what we have access to by Fuller, I can say that <i>Burn</i> is his only print “light entertainment.” Aside from its Fuller pedigree, it’s not as sharp as the Hollywood stories of Fitzgerald (“The Pat Hobby stories” and <i>The Last Tycoon</i>) and was certainly not intended to be a dark piece of apocalyptic satire like West’s brilliant <i>Day of the Locust</i>. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">While Fuller’s novel <i>The Dark Page</i> (1944) is a better novel about reporting at a newspaper, <i>Burn</i> is a few hours of pleasant reading and offers an intriguingly fictionalized chronicle of the process of a screenwriter becoming a “fair-haired boy” one day and being utterly decimated by executives and colleagues on the next. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Sam went on to have a solid period of filmmaking under Darryl F. Zanuck in the Fifties, but then faced immeasurable difficulty getting a film made in the Sixties and Seventies. Thus, <i>Burn</i> is the product of a younger Fuller who has acknowledged how awful the studio system treated its lower-ranking personnel — and how it also fostered talents that were truly eccentric and one-of-a-kind.
</span></div>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-11501535223107619022023-06-06T16:04:00.007-04:002023-06-06T16:10:36.431-04:00More Media Funhouse full episodes on the Net, free!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikN0KH95JziwW2fPSsKmP0m5exrI3t6AfvopQgcM-W4h0uvDNQajoHYsfsaZLCSJ7kb1efd1QZa_FhEp67cqJedoqgG1kTSJXmi_tol-EctW2LBowJKMc8cSZSk-kH3VO8qfE9ONoG5fAh3XupmJbZhN15EJIgPZDBmiF3ZqGCQXt2xj7TGpb6Be2tsw/s1920/screen%20grab%20from%20show.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikN0KH95JziwW2fPSsKmP0m5exrI3t6AfvopQgcM-W4h0uvDNQajoHYsfsaZLCSJ7kb1efd1QZa_FhEp67cqJedoqgG1kTSJXmi_tol-EctW2LBowJKMc8cSZSk-kH3VO8qfE9ONoG5fAh3XupmJbZhN15EJIgPZDBmiF3ZqGCQXt2xj7TGpb6Be2tsw/s320/screen%20grab%20from%20show.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Funhouse TV show will celebrate its 30th anniversary on Sept. 30 of this year. Besides making me feel incredibly old, the fact that I’m still doing the Funhouse after all this time does make me proud. I’m proud that I’ve kept the show going despite obstacles too numerous to mention, proud that I’ve gotten to cover a broad spectrum of both high art and low trash (something you can’t do in mainstream media — it’s one or the other, and neither makes $), and proud that I’ve been able to share it all with the Manhattan cable viewers of the show, those who read the associated writing I’ve done (both on this blog and in my DVD/BD reviews), and those who watch the show virtually on the MNN stream each late Saturday night. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So, I felt it was time to put a few more shows up online in their entirety. This can’t be done on YouTube, which arbitrarily enforces copyright, bashes to death the notion of “fair use” and critical context, and deals harshly with those who ain’t payin’ them. As for popular categories of “fair use” YT vids, I never wanted to talk through or “shrink” into a tiny box the clips I show on the program; I don’t think me “reacting” to things is interesting — I introduce the material and then let ’er rip! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This time it’s a quartet of recently produced shows, two of which fit snugly into the “high art” category, one of which is surely “low trash,” and a fourth that is simply a great Golden Age film that deserves a bigger audience. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1udasA0nxMQLzFetBb6It9tr8AO-ihVPeGesyS3spnl-ptnVDR0CqwthvPJXiQqxamPBEWhahwOduizYqZfch1he1rPpGp-D7CDhXkCxjXF0FGcOUL47HmffkpIFvUCaFimsGDqDg6Mwavo5qqkNRYkqtfhbJa7vBxHGDARjqyl6KQnCljvyYkmsbrg/s1000/Wild%20Wild%20world.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="699" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1udasA0nxMQLzFetBb6It9tr8AO-ihVPeGesyS3spnl-ptnVDR0CqwthvPJXiQqxamPBEWhahwOduizYqZfch1he1rPpGp-D7CDhXkCxjXF0FGcOUL47HmffkpIFvUCaFimsGDqDg6Mwavo5qqkNRYkqtfhbJa7vBxHGDARjqyl6KQnCljvyYkmsbrg/w140-h200/Wild%20Wild%20world.jpg" width="140" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The last-mentioned is the first show I posted. On this episode, I discuss and show clips from the 1937 British thriller <i>Love from a Stranger</i>. I will readily admit that the reason I encountered this particular thriller (which I hadn’t heard of until recently) was because I had finally obtained the long out-of-print (and often wildly overpriced) book <i>The Wild Wild World of the Cramps</i> by Ian Johnston. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the book, which supposedly the Cramps were not fond of (a shame, because it’s the best of the two books written about them and is quite reverent and informative), there is a section from an interview in which <a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2009/02/how-far-can-too-far-go-deceased-artiste.html">the late lamented Lux Interior</a> provides a list of films he really loves. The Cramps’ deep love for both Russ Meyer and Herschell Gordon Lewis was mentioned in many of their interviews (and they sang theme songs from films by both men), but this longer list was interesting, in that it mostly seemed to have items that were put out by two public domain video labels of the time. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thus, it seemed to me to be a list of Lux’s recent purchases — many of the movies were just standard-issue horror and juvenile delinquent flicks. The list, started out, though, with the masterwork of frenzy that is <i>The World’s Greatest Sinner</i> by Timothy Carey. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Lux also included <i>Love from a Stranger</i> in his list. Here is the entry: </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Lux: It’s a great old movie and stars Basil Rathbone as a serial killer. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Ivy: He plays a psychotic! </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bl3UOks8LdAfi6UlwPPgFFWd58Vhzh3AQ95rKRDWRN6LEtjHhwh-nGZiv2HEQ5ZFFZvvqsnFChn7GpOuBWCePo1tkQlOazCbUAHy1FDbvC6q_qxxLJfyAC41c3lPTJtZzT8n2FwH1ZZUw-Wnlzl1bQm3i5TERa_vRmtSqZU1h4E4JeXdyTWAS34Gjg/s700/love-from-a-stranger-1937-basil-rathbone-1.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="700" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5bl3UOks8LdAfi6UlwPPgFFWd58Vhzh3AQ95rKRDWRN6LEtjHhwh-nGZiv2HEQ5ZFFZvvqsnFChn7GpOuBWCePo1tkQlOazCbUAHy1FDbvC6q_qxxLJfyAC41c3lPTJtZzT8n2FwH1ZZUw-Wnlzl1bQm3i5TERa_vRmtSqZU1h4E4JeXdyTWAS34Gjg/s320/love-from-a-stranger-1937-basil-rathbone-1.webp" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Lux: Basil Rathbone in his most demanding performance (laughs) and I ain’t kidding. He starts off as being really suave, sweeps this girl off her feet and tells her he’s rich. As the movie goes on he becomes more and more nutty and in the last half hour of the film she realizes the man she’s married to is a full-blown psychotic. She’s alone with him in this house in the middle of nowhere and he plans to kill her. He becomes more disheveled throughout. They’ll be sitting eating dinner and he’ll suddenly turn round to her and say, ‘WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!’ He shovels tons of food into his mouth and it all starts dribbling down his chin and then he burps, loudly… this is Basil Rathbone! He turns into a monster. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Ivy: He just turns into a monster without make-up. The performances are excellent.” </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The only things I can add to this lively description is that the film was scripted by the leading woman screenwriter of the time, Frances Marion (who wrote <i>Dinner at Eight</i>), and was based on a short story by Agatha Christie. It does have some really good twists and turns, and does feature a truly manic turn by the future Sherlock Holmes (aka Wolf von Frankenstein). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/6649973770835" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another title mentioned in a different list of movies recommended by Senor Interior (in the 1986 tour booklet that contained list of faves from all four members of the band) is <i>Confessions of a Psycho Cat</i> (1968). This film was part of a major rediscovery (thanks to the great producer Dave Friedman letting one mail-order firm know about a trove of 16mm copies of pretty much forgotten titles) of sexploitation titles, and it is well worth a look. Lux liked it SO much that he wrote <a href="https://youtu.be/dvcc20jl120">a song with the same title</a>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIalnxlqk2RrNLx4dEKOlj1nsIv6vsHWjmR9QNdPBIkcx6JiFReUMTl5HlVOIE47Cre5j1ZyzpCDTnnfQEo7dYV7TU7bBeLv2DNzUPCORdeNdldNI9Sb3gFIOC7DeIRCyajQ_AaLclSzGsWodrGLZg6fWEgTBEMkIesjhFMBV1soUdpAktxKj4D4qh5Q/s612/Confessions%20of%20a%20Psycho%20Cat.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIalnxlqk2RrNLx4dEKOlj1nsIv6vsHWjmR9QNdPBIkcx6JiFReUMTl5HlVOIE47Cre5j1ZyzpCDTnnfQEo7dYV7TU7bBeLv2DNzUPCORdeNdldNI9Sb3gFIOC7DeIRCyajQ_AaLclSzGsWodrGLZg6fWEgTBEMkIesjhFMBV1soUdpAktxKj4D4qh5Q/s320/Confessions%20of%20a%20Psycho%20Cat.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />The 9,000th version of the “Most Dangerous Game” scenario (in which humans are the prey that is hunted, not animals), this one features an insane female hunter pursuing three down-and-out figures on the streets of NYC: a washed-up actor, a junkie beatnik, and a former wrestling “champeen,” played by none other than Da Bull himself, Jake LaMotta (who really trades on that nickname here, being killed in a mock bullfight by the hunter, dressed to the nines in a <i>torera</i> outfit). It’s a quite amazingly nuts film and worthy of a full Funhouse episode. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/6650095405651" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Time to flip the equation and move to the “high art” side of the film world. This is represented by a pair of episodes paying tribute to one of the biggest heroes in the Funhouse, namely Uncle Jean, aka Jean-Luc Godard. After his death, I knew I would have to look long and hard through his work and assemble a series of episodes paying tribute to his work, era by era. So far, I’ve assembled and aired two of these shows, and one episode discussing and excerpting scenes from <i>A Vendredi Robinson</i>, the 2022 Mitra Farahani film that offers us a last sustained look at JLG in his natural habitat (filmed in 2014-15 before he was gravely affected by a neurological condition). </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42dR-Wk0Ju67Q3Yxy5JIdDchSD3M0weJSCL0KlJJyl-6eE_va-G_GlZZ51OXr4dK14rn0MZ8g5bqBoefd6h_8yyQRP5vIipT6nr2o5WbNpSX6Go8lNirFiLcS46JxZB6pV-XaTx3ZsAo1w22rc2kpCH9XQKpENPvKmJrrVvuQsGDJv3RLnn3Bn3d6CQ/s837/Breathless.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="837" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh42dR-Wk0Ju67Q3Yxy5JIdDchSD3M0weJSCL0KlJJyl-6eE_va-G_GlZZ51OXr4dK14rn0MZ8g5bqBoefd6h_8yyQRP5vIipT6nr2o5WbNpSX6Go8lNirFiLcS46JxZB6pV-XaTx3ZsAo1w22rc2kpCH9XQKpENPvKmJrrVvuQsGDJv3RLnn3Bn3d6CQ/s320/Breathless.png" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />The first show covers the first six years of his most famous period, the Sixties, from 1960 to ’65. I discuss a few of the tenets of his work, display a few of the many magazines and books devoted to him, and then show scenes from nine of his first 10 features. (Including some that are truly iconic — and ripped off to no end — and some that show off specific aspects of his work.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/6650108709459" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The second episode completes the overview of Godard Sixties features. (I’ll approach the anthology contributions, shorts, and the missing ’60s feature in a future episode.) Here I open with some more books/magazines and an anecdote illustrating what it was like seeing Godard’s most obscure work in a certain Manhattan museum.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yNKitia5S9l7u39RJ62BJ03VPbnaDrdyIqkqB-hwh5EQzUmpBiA6jKvioM-UAibklErTlErRez90kzyOlX8pFbntLVSqD5agxxYdOty9xTEEJXtqCrcfzYKbOlEFepVh4hzDmcT2_wlO5AmMaph5jSWkhzSNAfl1gY37fPxn7kh5zJ0zXmX9RGcK3w/s960/JLG%20and%20Leaud.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4yNKitia5S9l7u39RJ62BJ03VPbnaDrdyIqkqB-hwh5EQzUmpBiA6jKvioM-UAibklErTlErRez90kzyOlX8pFbntLVSqD5agxxYdOty9xTEEJXtqCrcfzYKbOlEFepVh4hzDmcT2_wlO5AmMaph5jSWkhzSNAfl1gY37fPxn7kh5zJ0zXmX9RGcK3w/s320/JLG%20and%20Leaud.jpeg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />From that point I move on to the period in his work that
opened the way for an incredible amount of radically unusual films in the late
Sixties/early Seventies. We move from his last classically “New Wave” film
(MASCULIN FEMININ) to his post-“end of cinema” features in 1968. <br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/6650122406483" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I plan to only put up a select few episodes online. (There have been over a thousand new shows in the 30 years we’ve been on the air.) The only way to see the show regularly for those outside of Manhattan is to catch it late Sat/early Sunday at 1:00 a.m. EST on <a href="https://www.mnn.org/watch/channels/spirit-channel">the MNN stream on Ch. 3, the “Spirit Channel.”</a></span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-28143133721269020892023-04-17T14:56:00.005-04:002023-04-17T18:03:30.517-04:00The Funhouse interview: Balthazar Clementi on Pierre Clementi<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHl_Sy5QM7sLdBohnPc0by8mr1tJ_AngMUrWLKiQSR0NkWK4XHrp2Zt2Sf0tXhTeKT43rnFd6l64Al9WL9PsjZ8is3CMlqZ_qWgeGQJK4KKfMnKG7U-FLJGKtWk1Lpf1rmv0bK3vsaIr02nK2jMkPr7DK1SGG3bZy2LP8BlIwksb6zgDiL6eqc4rejTw/s600/Pierre%20Clementi.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="371" data-original-width="600" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHl_Sy5QM7sLdBohnPc0by8mr1tJ_AngMUrWLKiQSR0NkWK4XHrp2Zt2Sf0tXhTeKT43rnFd6l64Al9WL9PsjZ8is3CMlqZ_qWgeGQJK4KKfMnKG7U-FLJGKtWk1Lpf1rmv0bK3vsaIr02nK2jMkPr7DK1SGG3bZy2LP8BlIwksb6zgDiL6eqc4rejTw/s320/Pierre%20Clementi.webp" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here are two excerpts from the Funhouse interview with Balthazar Clementi that explores the life and career of his father, French actor-filmmaker Pierre Clementi, best known in America for his scene-stealing roles in Bunuel’s <i>Belle de Jour</i> and Bertolucci’s <i>The Conformist</i>, as well as his starring turns in cult films like Bertolucci’s <i>Partner</i>, Marc’o’s <i>Les Idoles</i>, and Liliana Cavani’s <i>The Year of the Cannibals</i>. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We covered a lot of ground in the hour in which we spoke; the result was three visually stunning Funhouse episodes that emphasized Pierre’s work as a filmmaker but also spotlighted a few of his best-loved film performances.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In this excerpt I start out mentioning the comparisons by film historians of Pierre's work to Kenneth Anger, most likely because they both used dense overlaid imagery in their films. We then discuss the in-camera process Pierre used to create those overlaid images.
Balthazar maintained in a question after this that Pierre was directly influenced only by one filmmaker — his friend (whose films he appeared in), Etienne O’Leary, a Canadian who made a trio of influential short avant-garde films in France, and then stopped making films due to medical problems. (O’Leary also appeared in Clementi’s films, sealing the bond of mutual admiration.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WoQ4y14yATM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In this clip we talk about how Clementi’s life changed after his famous 1972 arrest in Italy in the early Seventies (on a trumped-up drug charge) that led to him losing a year and a half of his career while being in prison. Upon his release, he had even less interest in doing acting work for money’s sake and was known to literally give away the money he made.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hGvVXi55rfk" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The interview with Balthazar was done in conjunction with a
festival of Pierre Clementi’s films at MoMA. The other tie-ins concerned the
release of <a href="https://store.potemkine.fr/dvd/3545020074145-integrale-pierre-clementi-pierre-clementi/">a limited edition “Integrale” box of Clementi’s films (containing the nine films on both Blu-ray discs and DVDs, with optional English subs; still available as of this writing)</a> and the long-awaited English translation of
<a href="https://shop.smallpressnyc.com/products/a-few-personal-messages">Clementi’s 1970s memoir (and essay on the prison state in Italy) <i>A Few
Personal Messages</i>, from the small press actually called Small Press</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1qjQ5tmVRskenT-Z4AoCHEARB1dFLrNN84z819wUfnJGG7dVmt3XTIglx1esxu65GZ9Ys14O3B9KcUyTFNyZpYHuy_dnHD6qYktorFNt64c43edOE7zU_4411y8T78thNau7oak35cL1fFYx3Z7ZbtIPiLcQvxsa3ufJdXfvaHeHHTKFxpj3Wolavw/s1080/Balthazar%20and%20me.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI1qjQ5tmVRskenT-Z4AoCHEARB1dFLrNN84z819wUfnJGG7dVmt3XTIglx1esxu65GZ9Ys14O3B9KcUyTFNyZpYHuy_dnHD6qYktorFNt64c43edOE7zU_4411y8T78thNau7oak35cL1fFYx3Z7ZbtIPiLcQvxsa3ufJdXfvaHeHHTKFxpj3Wolavw/s320/Balthazar%20and%20me.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />The interview, which was audio-only on this occasion, was conducted
in Central Park, a first for the Funhouse! Here is a pic of Balthazar and me
after our talk. He was quite forthcoming in our talk (providing very personal remarks about his birth and his father's later life), for which I thank him. (Thanks also go to Ivan Galietti, for his great translation, heard on these clips.)</span><p></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-67332184366817004952023-04-07T15:05:00.043-04:002023-04-10T19:55:32.759-04:00Notes on the screening of 'The Movie Orgy' (aka 'Son of Movie Orgy') at Anthology Film Archives — plus, the best 'Orgy' clips found online<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY10mw_dY5v3JrEhvNBd9biFJGneyxWoMPdn3SVki-WmPcpwKJvKlFWoXi7fLDEKpPVPxETRyfI1a2Ihmj75CPEE7uaqYsnrAECcJoBKkADhTzUpHQHlmMM5M-i8fQSnZ2s1CI-US2TkBUcpFzsBjE7dbLvdWcTTg0OY2juEY7kHtk6d-rCAjz0OkwWw/s1600/Movie%20Orgy%20credit.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY10mw_dY5v3JrEhvNBd9biFJGneyxWoMPdn3SVki-WmPcpwKJvKlFWoXi7fLDEKpPVPxETRyfI1a2Ihmj75CPEE7uaqYsnrAECcJoBKkADhTzUpHQHlmMM5M-i8fQSnZ2s1CI-US2TkBUcpFzsBjE7dbLvdWcTTg0OY2juEY7kHtk6d-rCAjz0OkwWw/w200-h150/Movie%20Orgy%20credit.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There is nothing like the moviegoing experience. And there are movies that depend on that experience to be successfully enjoyed. One of these is Joe Dante and Jon Davison’s much-talked-about but too-little-seen movie-clip marathon <i>The Movie Orgy</i> (started in 1966; reshown and rebuilt for a decade after that).<br /><br />The film fits in very comfortably with the Sixties ethos of nostalgia-loving and inserting b&w movie clips into weird places. Certain moments in it — where more famous old-time movie stars are seen “reacting” to other, unrelated footage (usually a B-feature with few recognizable faces) — is so Sixties that I’m not sure what today’s audience as a whole make of it. In fact, a lot of <i>Movie Orgy</i> moves along at a very fast clip, but it also incorporates the equivalent of abridged versions of various B-pictures, so it does end up telling complete stories, in fact several of them.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So what actually is the <i>Orgy</i>? It began as an idea for a movie “happening,” according to Joe Dante, based on the fact that colleges in the mid-Sixties were presenting showings of the serials of the ’30s and ’40s, with all the chapters shown in one marathon screening. Dante and Davidson thus created their own movie marathon, made up of various segments from B-features, plus numerous other items they had found on 16mm — scenes from more high-profile major-studio films from the past, TV episodes from the Fifties (with the spotlight on children’s TV), TV commercials, educational films, and even stag reels. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The B features that we see a lot of include <i>The Attack of the 50-Foot Woman, Tarantula, Earth vs. the Flying Saucers,</i> and <i>The Giant Claw.</i> The non-monster pics include the high-key crime/car race drama <i>Speed Crazy</i> and the Albert Zugsmith epic <i>College Confidential.</i> (Not one of Steve Allen’s better moments.) A Western movie serial and some Western B-features are thrown into the mix — something an audience brought up in the Fifties would immediately relate to (but today’s younger viewers encounter the Old West primarily through video games, not an endless flow of low-budget oaters).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzvu8G_d0lbgZFY9PUSmg8-zvLAs6N8-cfekSvg-ACpFZ2LAL3TggZhDrQE8AQJWVxALyDPLxK0zmKJXWTPDvBGcvOV1QBJqUXpg4OLjbXIH2qz273ZQ7aEBLV5txWSswdVm1tf6z_KQ5BHEFTNlG11SkkOIp8HNxVLbfz4I3fAZHW42UN-yJLn7IwA/s664/Dante.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="664" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzvu8G_d0lbgZFY9PUSmg8-zvLAs6N8-cfekSvg-ACpFZ2LAL3TggZhDrQE8AQJWVxALyDPLxK0zmKJXWTPDvBGcvOV1QBJqUXpg4OLjbXIH2qz273ZQ7aEBLV5txWSswdVm1tf6z_KQ5BHEFTNlG11SkkOIp8HNxVLbfz4I3fAZHW42UN-yJLn7IwA/w200-h160/Dante.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The younger Joe Dante.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I saw the <i>Orgy</i> the other evening at the invaluable Anthology Film Archives here in Manhattan (which is showing the compilation once more, on Monday, April 10). The film was shown at its present length, around four hours and 45 minutes. (Originally the “happening” version at the Philadelphia College of Art where Dante and Davidson went to school ran up to seven hours.) No admission charge was in place to see the film, as the clips in it were never licensed and it can only be shown in not-for-profit contexts.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My own reaction to <i>Orgy</i> is that it’s a load of fun but is overly long for something viewed with an audience that is passive. The filmgoers at Anthology seemed to enjoy it on the whole and did laugh at many of the gags created by the intercutting of footage (with some other items playing out to stone silence), but aside from laughter, the viewers were taking in the project as if it were a narrative film of its own. No friendly outbursts from this crowd — for a film that seemed to have been made for audience interaction of some sort. (Dante mentioned singalongs to the theme songs for the kids shows included in the compilation; my audience was mostly too young to know “M-I-C… See ya real soon!… K-E-Y ... M-O-U-S-E”)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It was very apparent that <i>Orgy</i> was a product of the Sixties and early Seventies, when movie viewers smoked pot in the theaters for even the straightest films (I remember this distinctly as a kid during that era), never mind a movie-clip extravaganza. Alas, no one is going to light up in a 2023 NYC movie theater. Nor did the Anthology viewers seem drunk in any way, or, in many cases, aware of who the old-time stars were who would pop in for “cameos” that no doubt got very big reactions back when the <i>Orgy</i> was playing for an audience steeped in old movies (thanks to repeated TV showings) and, most likely, drunk or stoned to the gills. (Dante has noted in interviews that he and Davidson did strike a deal with Schlitz beer, who had the compilation shown at various colleges with free beer given to anyone in attendance.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7rmsu9DcquZgm4okGLc4DA-NFmrbGysgu1-rHAJ1XqngQnUaCGgPakE8-IFQ9dWwj5CWoW8pxnJUZv8vWZLpaekLxGozo8U-DXbFudo7l8seZXEdveP0gWCDicR2JpZpung3S1rje5YwScaX-AIKbcjILe4CbX10Vct81cgYBTHLtNGZPsWEgvtCcQ/s649/OrgyHeader-649x381.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="649" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7rmsu9DcquZgm4okGLc4DA-NFmrbGysgu1-rHAJ1XqngQnUaCGgPakE8-IFQ9dWwj5CWoW8pxnJUZv8vWZLpaekLxGozo8U-DXbFudo7l8seZXEdveP0gWCDicR2JpZpung3S1rje5YwScaX-AIKbcjILe4CbX10Vct81cgYBTHLtNGZPsWEgvtCcQ/s320/OrgyHeader-649x381.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />So, given this more “reverent” than knowing crowd reaction,
the film was indeed really wonderful for the first two hours, then seemed to
move at a slower pace in the third and fourth hours (as the B-movie scenes
lasted longer onscreen and more of their plots was offered), only to become
wonderfully insane again in the last 45 minutes, as all the B-movie monsters
seen earlier on finally met their terrible fates at the hands of the innocuous,
nearly anonymous, heroes and heroines who defeated them with scientific
know-how (or just a lotta dynamite).<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The <i>Orgy</i> was clearly the creation of movie-crazed minds, so it initially seemed to not have a “point” other than sheer pleasure. As it moves on, though, one becomes aware that it is a wily deconstruction of 1950s American mores through the lens of a Nixon-era sensibility. (If that wasn’t apparent, not one but two of Nixon’s most famous pre-Presidency moments were included to be mocked by audience members, although none of that happened in this screening.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">On the whole, despite the overwhelming nature of the film and the absence of an interactive audience (although one gent was laughing up a storm at various points), I’m glad I saw <i>Orgy</i> — actually titled “Son of The Movie Orgy” in this digitized version prepared by Dante himself — as it truly is a piece of “incredibly strange” movie history. It also, like every film mash-up, from the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it edits in Chuck Workman’s montages of movie scenes to Godard’s masterpiece <i>Histoire(s) du Cinema</i>, makes the cinephile try to i.d. each sequence. (<i>Orgy</i> is very easy to figure out; Godard’s history of cinema requires additional research.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And thus, some clips to convey what <i>Orgy</i> is about, and to spotlight some of the best “finds” in this stew of clips.
First, an interview with Dante, who explains how the project came about, and how he brought it back to life in this century.</span><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/206099576?h=c9dee0706d&color=6AF7D6&title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Then a “trailer” for the film, which includes a glimpse at one of the oddest items in the whole thing, a film made by the British sketch comedy group The Establishment (to be shown in the nightclub of the same name). Peter Cook narrates (he owned the club), Eleanor Bron is the nurse, and Jonathan Miller (who was a doctor in real life) plays the surgeon. It's also been officially noted that the short film proper doesn't exist in the U.K. any longer, so this might be your only chance to get a glimpse of it. It begins at 2:10.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/g7fp4v8bTEo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A quicker trailer shows the opening montage of movie stills, which definitely places the compilation in the late Sixties. (It’s like a film student’s crazed version of the Joe Franklin opening montage.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Mm5KxdmLmrQ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the biggest boffo moments in the whole 4:45 came when an episode of “Andy’s Gang” appeared. A strange children’s show for any era, the series starred Andy Devine and Froggy the Gremlin, plus a little “band” comprised of taxidermied animals engineered to look like they were making music (decades before the Survival Research Laboratory!). This did completely crack up the Anthology audience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zfAuKF6jTqE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another sequence that did put the AFA audience into hysterics is this old classic. I loved Abbott and Costello as a kid but have had little impulse to rewatch their movies as an adult (not so with Fields and the Marxes — who are both in <i>Orgy</i>, and Laurel and Hardy). But the “Susquehanna Hat Company” routine has always made me laugh out loud. (And the end is the height of vaudeville anarchy as the shop owner takes an axe to his own goods.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/THZV5g1CNZM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most curious inclusions in <i>Orgy</i> — one could easily call them “spoilers” indicating the era that it was made — were the three instances of newer clips that were inserted. One already mentioned was the Establishment short film (seen in two fragments, one being a mock ad for the Labour party and the other being the operation sketch). Another was a closing “Thought for the Day” dispensed by a young priest whose Christ is falling off his crucifix and has to be reattached with a staple gun (reportedly a student film made by another student at the Philadelphia College of Art). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The longest example of this is one of my fave clips, <a href="http://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2021/12/the-pitchman-as-scene-stealer-interview_16.html">Funhouse favorite and interview subject Robert Staats</a> giving the pitch for the “Fabulous Judeo-Christian Good Guy Kit” in Harry Hurwitz’s <i>The Projectionist </i>(1971). Staats is of course wonderfully funny (although the AFA audience laughed sporadically, as some of the quicker lines were darker ones that hint that the kit is only for those who *don’t* want to be actual good guys…). Dante and Davison not only show the mock-commercial in its entirety, but they keep Hurwitz’s follow-up: various images of Heaven culled from old movies. (Hurwitz was one of the all-time masters at incorporating vintage Golden Age footage into his nostalgia-drenched comedies.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/glp8GUKN6qI" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The piece de resistance in terms of the opposite of the above, real commercials that seemed ridiculously ill-conceived, was a Bufferin ad campaign with the tagline “strong medicine for sensitive people.” The sensitive people include a Black social worker having to relocate an old White couple; a mother whose husband is going a “Great Santini” number on their son, trying to make him macho with the gift of a rifle; a draft board member who has to deal with a small business owner (Dolph Sweet) begging him to not draft his only young worker; and a college administrator who is dealing with teenage protesters on his campus. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The campaign is a stunner and, according to Dante, only ran once (or was shelved entirely after being shot and edited). It remains an amazing concept and a definite link to the late Sixties.</span></p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rkJKxAuIeqI" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The other clip that was a humdinger but is sadly not online was one of those Art Linkletter moments where you realized that his humor was just as sadistic as Allen Funt’s (actually more so). Hosting a “stunt” game show, Linkletter tells us they found a woman with a phobia for mice. He’s going to ask her to reach into a box of rats to fetch a 10-dollar bill. The lady is brought out and is very disturbed by the prospect of rats brushing by her hand; she turns the offer down. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6PgTwWywNnI33Zf-BOG0d4LGvib53Kz7jxcixP8pZ4yngFsJOMmyhR08gD2UAAPh-JU_pnmL6VeZUBi--tWuL-k8MzLLzZKI_rk15W7h_3raCivNFY4AIR-djQwehAOUt853UiWJpOelMnf4-fBKSd0kg32ytiTSZdMV9nwoPaACYWr-sUJ8r5sYpQ/s1420/Linkletter.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="946" data-original-width="1420" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU6PgTwWywNnI33Zf-BOG0d4LGvib53Kz7jxcixP8pZ4yngFsJOMmyhR08gD2UAAPh-JU_pnmL6VeZUBi--tWuL-k8MzLLzZKI_rk15W7h_3raCivNFY4AIR-djQwehAOUt853UiWJpOelMnf4-fBKSd0kg32ytiTSZdMV9nwoPaACYWr-sUJ8r5sYpQ/w200-h133/Linkletter.webp" width="200" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Linkletter increases the money amount over and over until it reaches $100 and the lady agrees to reach in the box. At this point Linkletter, who has been holding a magician’s box with no back, moves it as if the rats are trying to leap out of the box toward her — but the “rats” in question are just pads over which a woman’s hair is arranged (called “rats” back in the ‘50s). We the audience knew this all along, and in classic sadistic game show fashion, the studio audience is laughing up a storm over the woman being in terror of rats. (Maury Povich’s “Phobia!” episodes thus had a precursor — and, again, Art L. is shown to be a devious guy [who of course hated hippies, blaming them for the death of his daughter, a story that the original <i>Orgy</i><span> viewers surely knew].) </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most interesting thing about researching this piece was that I discovered one viewer who saw a longer cut of the </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Orgy</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> stating two themes that were cut from the version I saw: the annoyance of child actors (conveyed through a montage featuring a plethora of kiddie material that Dante and Davison had access to) and the repetition of a slur for Japanese people that reflected the fact that movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood did have a harsh underside — conveyed in the version I saw by a clip where an upper-middle-class woman mocks her Black maid to her husband. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Perhaps the way to get audiences in the 2020s to react like those in the ‘60s and ‘70s would be the most obvious one — provide them with free pizza (Dante notes over and over again in interviews that people would bring munchies to the showings of the film), CBD gummies (for a contemporary audience), or free liquid stimulants. (Schlitz not necessary.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Some info contained in this piece (esp. the identification of the newer pieces that weren’t made by Harry Hurwitz) came from <a href="https://miap.hosting.nyu.edu/program/student_work/2015spring/15S_3490_Neary_Thesis_y.pdf">a 2015 thesis on the film by David Ruane Neary that is posted online</a>.</i></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-49968183983355069322023-02-03T04:09:00.010-05:002023-02-03T13:31:26.744-05:00Saluting the centennial of Norman Mailer<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIn831Oxe4gYcpumt4_TU3pHW9evDLNn2N3X30oTALBVgshPwOvoHyjhQxRYHyHWI97nlfg3rbv33E8ZUacIGaHywvgT1VxB4xv-8SuMkobDrRBVyR1sc5U3z95DOLU0b2vs_6sZbg8khd06aKoIeLbPT6Nsm-9YVheMOKRFc7BTxFPEzOq9g7fJeYw/s2721/Mailer%20film.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2721" data-original-width="1800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIn831Oxe4gYcpumt4_TU3pHW9evDLNn2N3X30oTALBVgshPwOvoHyjhQxRYHyHWI97nlfg3rbv33E8ZUacIGaHywvgT1VxB4xv-8SuMkobDrRBVyR1sc5U3z95DOLU0b2vs_6sZbg8khd06aKoIeLbPT6Nsm-9YVheMOKRFc7BTxFPEzOq9g7fJeYw/w133-h200/Mailer%20film.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mailer in "mad<br />scientist" (filmmaker)<br /> mode.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Norman Mailer's centennial was this past Tuesday. While he's now thought of by many as a “dinosaur” because of the many incidents of him acting up in public (and private), Mailer was, above all, a great writer. His <i>Executioner’s Song</i> is perhaps the finest bit of “new journalism” ever (although it wasn’t as fun as Thompson or Wolfe, and did indeed work from a formula set down by Capote in <i>In Cold Blood</i>). It’s an incredible book that offers a very pointed and precise view of the American 1970s, as well as a compelling study of sudden violence and its aftermath.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">His pure fiction varied from work to work — highs and lows, masterpieces and duds. But his journalism and essays are invaluable studies of American political and popular culture. Yes, he was a well-educated white Jewish urban intellectual who set out to write “the great American novel” and instead became a bad boy in the media and wound up saying some things he later renounced or rethought. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Still, the passion he had for the written word still comes through in his work and his finest books (including <i>Executioner’s</i>, <i>Armies of the Night</i>, his writings on Kennedy and Ali, <i>Harlot’s Ghost</i>, and his last, <i>The Castle in the Forest</i>) will remain brilliant, whether or not people can bring themselves to read them because who he was is no longer fashionable. As has been noted often: if you search for pure virtue in the artists you enjoy, you’re going to have to get rid of the work of all the extremely talented and extremely fucked-up writers, musicians, filmmakers, fine artists, and performers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Since Mailer’s books are all copyrighted and available wherever one consumes the written word (if one does consume the written word for more than 50 pages these days), I will run through his media image below, based on videos I posted to YouTube in the weeks after his death. This is not a thorough, or even a fair, representation of all that Mailer truly represented, but he did have some wild (and I do mean wild) moments in the media, and so one has to include the “wired” (by adrenaline, booze, or uppers) side of Norman as well as the philosophical one.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyKA19q09FKpe6Jn2XszsY5mw0_xXTVeIHBjYgiQBuRKZMM1S83ziU0ubfUW_icO9d8G8PlZnpHH861PFTmbPsLpdOCcHsaOirBTupjnBcYljQeQ31C4Xfy4F9sglppYx-x1Tse95C9eUjz2H2r0Jy2VYR1zyXFsa_4-Rzj6hxSDpALATY8YrRvgI-Q/s424/Norman%20chair.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="424" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjyKA19q09FKpe6Jn2XszsY5mw0_xXTVeIHBjYgiQBuRKZMM1S83ziU0ubfUW_icO9d8G8PlZnpHH861PFTmbPsLpdOCcHsaOirBTupjnBcYljQeQ31C4Xfy4F9sglppYx-x1Tse95C9eUjz2H2r0Jy2VYR1zyXFsa_4-Rzj6hxSDpALATY8YrRvgI-Q/w200-h198/Norman%20chair.webp" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Casual Norman,<br />by Diane Arbus.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mailer directed four movies, three of which were his attempt to make “underground” films and the final one — well, that’s the amazing <i>Tough Guys Don’t Dance</i>. I will start out with the one time I wanted to impart some of Norman’s thoughts so badly that I sat and typed out — yes, with mine own fingers! — a fragment from his article on television called “Of a Small and Modest Malignancy, Wicked and Bristling with Dots.” </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s a late 1970s piece in which Mailer remembers watching Steve Allen and Ernie Kovacs in the 1950s while high on pot and realizing that he understood what was really going on, on the boob tube. It’s an odd article, combining profundities about the “never well-done” medium and Norman revealing the polymorphous perversity in American society. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The segment I wanted to share with the world is a vision of watching Steverino high on pot and meditating on what the women in the studio audience thought of having a big old microphone stuck in their face. It’s something that only Norman could’ve come up with. <a href="http://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2008/06/watching-steve-allen-on-pot-mailers.html">You can find the blog post here.</a> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now, let’s go to the movies! First off, there was Mailer’s gangster drama <i>Wild 90</i> (1968), which is, to be simple about it, a mess. As fine a writer as Norman was, he was ill-suited to the art of filmmaking. Firstly, in his Sixties trio of films he strived to emulate the off-kilter visuals of the experimental directors on the American “underground” scene, but he also wanted to have plots and characterization. Mekas and Brakhage could do the former, and Cassavetes and Clarke the latter, but no one could successfully do both. But Norman tried, three times, and in each case he allowed the actors to improvise — in the case of <i>Wild 90</i>, the whole film is nothing but Mailer and two of his buddies playing pretend-gangsters, quite awfully. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLaozQK4pTyp_-kq8izbz7vi1LrL55ThhM84DFPGYjkexmcSOf6GFL7Af2w9nZLNn8OtLrUZYa5_aOd4g_vTGoztIySpF9IlBFOXved8pKfFY7DIF6tPudUa6hUNXOe3hAbq7Nzsxem0s2s3Fy5xkA6VYDyF5WZ1xW02NlsZdT-mAhM7JMu3umaC_tNQ/s718/Wild%2090.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="718" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLaozQK4pTyp_-kq8izbz7vi1LrL55ThhM84DFPGYjkexmcSOf6GFL7Af2w9nZLNn8OtLrUZYa5_aOd4g_vTGoztIySpF9IlBFOXved8pKfFY7DIF6tPudUa6hUNXOe3hAbq7Nzsxem0s2s3Fy5xkA6VYDyF5WZ1xW02NlsZdT-mAhM7JMu3umaC_tNQ/s320/Wild%2090.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Making this stew of insanity even better is the fact that Norman wore a boxer’s mouth guard while in-character to presumably make himself sound tougher. This made him hard to understand — and then the sound didn’t get recorded properly. The great D.A. Pennebaker was behind the camera, so the film looks striking in 16mm b&w, but Bob Neuwirth recorded the sound and fucked some of it up very badly. The official ratio quoted online is that “25%” of the sound is murky, but the whole damned thing sounds dreadful, and so it was subtitled for its release in the Eclipse box set of Mailer’s experimental films. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So, why should you watch this little compilation I made of my favorite moments from the film? Because it’s amusing, but not in the way Norm and his two friends intended. Instead, we have tough guy Mailer using odd abbreviations like “the fyooch” (future) and “cock suck” (you know). The film is an absolute mess, but the scene where Norman tries to scare a growling dog is, again, just wonderfully crazy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-R5rMhYTQwM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mailer’s second film <i>Beyond the Law</i> (1968) was more ambitious and had some scenes that actually work (thanks to a cast of pro actors, including Rip Torn and Marsha Mason). His third (and last for a long while) film is the monumentally misconceived <i>Maidstone</i> (1970). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgppTCeOAq4AvsS7vwCiNP2EQBmVu8_-sx0uBMjbmADhnHRHN4nCHalcQlIKLuSIiuDAM6_u1OLV5pjGuBfcJQXhGzZezEVfNrAF7MKE2pKFeQiTU47zcKVo_sRHkZnaNOYGSc-v_q3m-9YoyLU0udKkUI7_0LqC-JTd9iViqpBRnwlObmKDeJdtibZA/s327/Maidstonepromotion.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="327" data-original-width="163" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgppTCeOAq4AvsS7vwCiNP2EQBmVu8_-sx0uBMjbmADhnHRHN4nCHalcQlIKLuSIiuDAM6_u1OLV5pjGuBfcJQXhGzZezEVfNrAF7MKE2pKFeQiTU47zcKVo_sRHkZnaNOYGSc-v_q3m-9YoyLU0udKkUI7_0LqC-JTd9iViqpBRnwlObmKDeJdtibZA/w100-h200/Maidstonepromotion.jpg" width="100" /></a></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Much has been said about the fight between Norman and Rip Torn, but the whole film is a stunning miscalculation — down to the very fact that Mailer expected his actors to come up with their own dialogue and for one team of performers to devise an assassination plot to kill his character. If you’re going to ask actors to improvise, you had better be Cassavetes or Mike Leigh behind the camera, because otherwise the results are going to be dreadful — but, luckily, <i>Maidstone</i> is saved by its (unintentional) humor. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Case in point: a scene where Norman tries to seduce one of his exes by humming along with the radio and then attempting some scat singing (or whatever you want to call what he’s doing with his mouth). </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I saw Mailer’s experimental films in theaters more than once (yes, I’m devoted to high art *and* low trash), and one of my treasured memories is seeing <i>Maidstone</i> at the Thalia with my father. He stared laughing out loud when Norman started doing his humming noises in the film, and I had to caution him that Norman was in the theater and would probably come over and deck us one. (Years later, Norman chastised an Anthology Film Archives audience I was in for laughing at Rip Torn shaking his little hammer at the camera in the film.) Of course, I then began laughing and we both had to try to stifle our laughter while Norman continued his very special method of charming a lady.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/H79dtAiJ_0c" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the years since I scored bootleg DVD-rs of Mailer’s three experimental films, the Eclipse box set did come out and provide us with unblemished copies, looking and sounding as good as these films possibly could. However, I will link to one more of the scenes I uploaded because it comprises what came after the infamous fight that Torn and Mailer had. Their impromptu insults of each other are sublime; Rip’s charge that he’s giving Mailer an ending for his film is entirely correct — and his coronation of Mailer as “king of shit” is a nice ad-lib. (Norman resorts once again to the “cocksucker” label.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xfscvvkSc3c" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Pennebaker served as a cameraman on all three of the Mailer “undergrounds,” and he later captured a more vibrant Mailer in his film (assembled years later by his collaborator-wife Chris Hegedus) <i>Town Bloody Hall</i> (1979). Mailer’s 1971 article on feminism (which became the book <i>Prisoner of Sex</i>) annoyed feminists and so a gimmicky event was staged: Mailer would debate “the feminists” onstage at Town Hall in Manhattan. The result was a thorough mess but (again) a fascinating one. Some of Mailer’s verbal points were brilliant, but his manner was overbearing. The feminists ranged from the articulate (Germaine Greer, Sontag and Ozick in the audience) to the unbearable (Jill Johnston). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here, Norman is backed into a corner when forced to discuss his male protagonists and their penises.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SIlg85GA0GQ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mailer stayed away from film for more than a decade and a half, but returned to it when the notion of adapting his novel <i>Tough Guys Don’t Dance</i> came up. The book is a taut little thriller with a classically Mailer-esque overlay of meditations on violence, masculinity, and confusion over identity. The screenplay he spun off it was a weird creation — the plot is the same as the novel, but he ginned up the melodrama, at some points to be taken seriously, at others to be intentionally over the top. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He then was given the opportunity to direct the film from those purveyors of crap action-flicks who desperately wanted to be taken seriously as producers of arthouse material, Golan and Globus. The result is one of those films that was destined to have a cult from the moment it was released — a weird amalgam of intentional humor and really ridiculous melodrama, all overlaid over a noir plotline infused by the spirit of David Lynch, via music by the late, great Angelo Badalamenti and the <i>Blue Velvet</i> queen, Isabella Rossellini. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There are dozens of imminently quotable lines of dialogue and some startlingly bizarre line readings: “How could you dig Big Stoop?” “Your knife… is in… my dog,” “Deep-six the heads,” and my personal fave (when O’Neal is asked how dealing drugs went), “I couldn’t get that heavy shit to flush.” It’s an incredible film that is entirely linear, unlike Norman’s Sixties experimental films, but the tone varies so often that one can’t help but be enthralled by its alien charm. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIQ6CN_JVmQ3AiVW4jpxSBGfjaUOoDPfTZ8IhpbrourQnzWTNapCJ0_Nj8o2j9B1PpSruGgivswOhKWySgs99zXWKqJzyTGULW7S6tfFBXP-qG2p4doyjVk5k9-c0Ekpcdazd3R2L4rjibJuKoFqbOd7-Gk-SJIkhruk7DxQag5ck-FwFXYyW2nRbag/s779/Tough-Guys-Don't-Dance-Ryan-15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="779" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOIQ6CN_JVmQ3AiVW4jpxSBGfjaUOoDPfTZ8IhpbrourQnzWTNapCJ0_Nj8o2j9B1PpSruGgivswOhKWySgs99zXWKqJzyTGULW7S6tfFBXP-qG2p4doyjVk5k9-c0Ekpcdazd3R2L4rjibJuKoFqbOd7-Gk-SJIkhruk7DxQag5ck-FwFXYyW2nRbag/s320/Tough-Guys-Don't-Dance-Ryan-15.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />My only encounter with Mailer was when I went up to him as he exited the subway at 53rd and Third Avenue. I noted I really enjoyed (no lie, that) <i>Tough Guys Don’t Dance</i>. He then asked quickly, “The book or the movie?” I said (again, no lie), “Both.” He then informed me that the movie had been nominated for several awards (these noms were for the Independent Spirit awards). I had no immediate questions at hand, and he did have a cagey, energy-filled bearing about him, so I just shook his hand and said goodbye. (Yes, Norman rode the subway from borough to borough.) </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mailer was clearly aware the film was a hard sell and so he had this trailer made, where he read a series of audience reaction cards from preview screenings — which, I’d be willing to bet, were all written by Norman himself. The final one paves the way for his last novel, <i>The Castle in Forest</i>, in which an emissary of the Horned One narrates the tale of the young life of an Austrian named Adolf.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MCXbtYm3HDc" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And because I really do have an abiding respect for Mailer the writer and thinker, here is a segment I posted from a French documentary that I believe hails from the late ‘90s. Mailer speaks about plastic and how it became the emblem of American society (part of the “triumph of the mediocre”). He then links that to a deadening of the senses and the American proclivity toward violence. When Mailer was feeling expansive in interviews and wasn’t playing a pro-wrestling heel (as he did on the infamous episode of “The Dick Cavett Show”), he was one of the great thinkers of the late 20th century.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gnMMccvV5Dw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And finally a montage I put together for the Funhouse TV show: Norman on Merv Griffin (as seen in that French documentary) physically in his “heel wrestler” persona, but eloquent as ever, noting how curse words used by authors couldn’t ever compete with the obscenity of the then-escalating Vietnam War. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Then it’s back to <i>Town Bloody Hall</i>, where he is again argumentative and in full “heel” mode but does make some valid points (esp. how Germaine Greer was truly a unique figure in the feminist movement, as she acknowledged the fact that men were not leading happy lives as well — plus she was incredibly witty, which always helps selling one’s point of view). His last-minute joke about his dick is classic Norman in media mode: undercutting his own sincere and well-thought out words with a rather feeble verbal joust. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">From there it’s back to <i>Tough Guys…</i> for two sublimely high-key sequences (including the film’s most stunning moment, shown on the Funhouse TV series in the ‘90s every few months).
In closing, it’s Norman on C-Span2’s “Book Talk” in 2001. He laments the dumbing-down of American culture. “We’re a country that hates questions that take longer than 10 seconds to answer.” (Yes, this was during G.W. Bush’s tenure in the White House.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aeMJeoiwpVI" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">No matter what becomes fashionable in the world of academic endeavor as the years move on, I think that readers who encounter Mailer’s writing will be jolted by it, in the intellectual sense of that word. When Norman was speaking clearly and precisely he was an American sage, a gent who understood the internal workings of this nation like few others. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Specific utterances by him or his donning of the “heel” persona in certain public spaces may continue to make for snap judgments among those who are triggered by anything controversial, anything that makes them uncomfortable (which is, let’s be honest, just about all complicated thought and the context that necessarily underpins complicated speech). Mailer challenged that, and I point you back to the clip above where he compares his least favorite synthetic material (plastic) and its similarity to p.c. speech. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“America is a hurricane, and the only people who do not hear the sound are those fortunate if incredibly stupid and smug White Protestants who live in the center, in the serene eye of the big wind.”</span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-21954831213741359422022-12-30T15:34:00.011-05:002022-12-30T16:12:56.290-05:00Media Funhouse episodes on the Net<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lq2gPTPoVbKck7Hlpj_WQ12njs5m7GGCXnefC4nyLFs0chwcpIJtrhU8CrwFBzw-CDOd0BI1bQixjllxvxhsK1WDNf4d8TPYvdvarkhpd9AXbcaS9emDz9CsxXMJ8JgvUiip4cyRYZ5m6iuZDTO8pBKyZvRE6tWWhXHd0GDnnLHQ1ruGpujdK-ZvMQ/s720/vlcsnap-2022-12-29-01h57m29s87.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="720" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5lq2gPTPoVbKck7Hlpj_WQ12njs5m7GGCXnefC4nyLFs0chwcpIJtrhU8CrwFBzw-CDOd0BI1bQixjllxvxhsK1WDNf4d8TPYvdvarkhpd9AXbcaS9emDz9CsxXMJ8JgvUiip4cyRYZ5m6iuZDTO8pBKyZvRE6tWWhXHd0GDnnLHQ1ruGpujdK-ZvMQ/s320/vlcsnap-2022-12-29-01h57m29s87.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Back in August, just as the Media Funhouse TV show was about to enter its 30th year on the air (the show debuted on September 30, 1993), the cable access organization that airs the show, Manhattan Neighborhood Network, moved its HQ from 59th Street and 11th Ave. to 38th Street and 11th Avenue. At this point the live streams of MNN channels went dark and a third party organization began airing their shows — in a bizarre twist, the Standard Definition shows began airing in HD (and within an odd onscreen pattern of a letterbox-within-a-windowbox).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The last-mentioned aspect (and many other daily grinds) has kept me so busy that only now — now in a week when the live streams are in fact BACK ON-AIR (!) — have I had the chance to find a suitable “platform” to host a Media Funhouse online “channel” of the recent episodes that no one outside of Manhattan could see. (I take my viewership outside the borough as seriously as the ones inside the borough.) OK.ru is the site of choice, since Vimeo demands cold hard cash for every bit of space it allots a videomaker, the workings of DailyMotion are a puzzle, and YouTube has various wondrous stumbling blocks — most of them “international bans” — in place for those who create video montages.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">OK.ru is the “YouTube of Russia.” To those who might think that “I’ll be *watched* if I go to that site!” I have a fast newsflash: You’re being watched on YouTube. You’re being watched (especially!) on Facebook. Your social media is being registered and logged everywhere at every time. Unless you go “off the grid” entirely, as long as you have an active presence online, you’re being watched. From your desktop computer, your work computer (again, especially), and most definitely your tablet and phone, you’re being watched. (And I've "unlocked" the embeds from ok.ru below, so you can click them and watch the videos through this blog entry.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And, as for YouTube, the clips that were the points of contention were fascinating. The films of Bob Rafelson that everyone knows — his early work for BBS (his company with Schneider and Blauner) — were fine with YT. It was his later movies that are owned outright and that no one can EVER post sequences from. And with Godard it gets even hairier.</span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFM4YMY6A2nMJUmEjbObL-a-WJTBxyduYDbUjc1qHcoKdiZGqzXV52qD807tYGlIcYT48NhB3R9D8EnDGu_VqpqQ0MFUuVnuzZldaq_1mwruJhjrePbPG2AWdfclfAOjGaP0NCYOdZljLO1tfFjCemIj424UjSVvBxhe7rS_ZQcr1p_mS-jhAiqlQ0dg/s720/vlcsnap-2022-12-29-01h55m45s59.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="720" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFM4YMY6A2nMJUmEjbObL-a-WJTBxyduYDbUjc1qHcoKdiZGqzXV52qD807tYGlIcYT48NhB3R9D8EnDGu_VqpqQ0MFUuVnuzZldaq_1mwruJhjrePbPG2AWdfclfAOjGaP0NCYOdZljLO1tfFjCemIj424UjSVvBxhe7rS_ZQcr1p_mS-jhAiqlQ0dg/w200-h141/vlcsnap-2022-12-29-01h55m45s59.png" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Godard mixes three overlaid<br />images with (at least) two audio tracks<br />in <i>Histoire(s) du Cinema</i>.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Uncle Jean (as I like to call him, based on his role in the film <i>Prenom Carmen</i>) was a “mix-master,” a sampler of longstanding. He used words from other writers, images from painters, and music from classical composers in his Sixties films, and by the Eighties was crafting video essays that were composed almost entirely of others’ work, reassembled by his hand (one of his first notable articles was called, “Montage, My Fine Care”). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">However, since he was using other people’s work so heavily, when you post HIS work on YouTube, you find that the original sources are banned — most notably, one German classical CD label does not want to monetize your clip (or, more accurately, Godard’s clip) with their sounds on it, they want you “banned” outright.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Godard also worked actively at one point with a record label that released the soundtracks of his films (complete, with every sound, every newly spoken word, and all the thousands of sounds he had taken from other sources on their discs). This has caused his “late-period” masterpiece <i>Histoire(s) du Cinema</i> to have its sound banned entirely from YouTube — at the moment you post a video including a clip from his video epic, you are “internationally banned” for using JLG’s sound (his name appears as the copyright owner), even though he was fond of putting “No Copy Right” at the end of his video essays and he publicly supported (to the tune of donating 1,000 euros!) a downloader who was under indictment, saying “There is no such thing as intellectual property.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">After facing this obstacle, there was only one way to go: away from U.S. video platforms. OK.ru truly fits JLG’s dictum and thus has not just hundreds, but thousands of films on it. It now has the “missing” episodes of my cable-access series, and I can think of no better company to be in than a crazy digital library of thousands of films. <a href="https://ok.ru/video/c11671379">Here is the link to the Media Funhouse channel</a>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now, onto the shows:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I have new episodes paying tribute to Godard in the works, but first of all wanted to reshow older Funhouse eps in which I focused on his films. Firstly, there is part one of my interview from 2004 with Colin MacCabe, the film historian who wrote the first English-language biography of Godard.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">MacCabe discusses his book in this interview but also answers questions about broader concepts in Godard’s work. He also in this episode discusses what it was like to work with Uncle Jean, as the producer on three of his video essays (and yes, I ask him about clearance of film clips!).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575302580819" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Moving back to the “consumer guide” aspect of the Funhouse, I also reshowed this episode, which found me reviewing and showing clips from three new releases: the Eclipse box of films by Godard’s one-time “Dziga-Vertov group” collaborator Jean-Pierre Gorin, and Godard’s own <i>Film Socialisme</i> and the mighty, mighty <i>Histoire(s) du Cinema</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575469763155" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As for “unseen” Godard, I also have done various episodes on his video essays. I am quite proud of having shown Funhouse viewers one of his most beautiful short creations, “De l'origine du XXIe siècle” (2000) in its entirety in this episode. I include clips from other essays, but “origine” is a most exquisite view of the 20th century that proceeds backward chronologically, mixing newsreels of the realest atrocities with the most fantasy-based images from fiction films, concluding with perhaps the perfect metaphor for a century in which the action never stopped: the dance with the can-can girls in Max Ophuls’ <i>Le Plaisir</i>. (Godard leaves in all the spinning around, but cuts just as the hero falls down while dancing.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575391185491" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another absolutely gorgeous Godard short is “Puissance de la Parole” (1988). Godard counterpoints a couple’s emotional breakup over the phone — with dialogue from James M. Cain’s <i>The Postman Always Rings Twice</i> — with an older man and a young girl discussing mankind’s need for knowledge — with dialogue from Poe’s prose poem “The Power of Words” about two deities (or angels, if you prefer) conversing about mortals. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s a stunning work in terms of both its magical inscrutability (the Poe side) and its earthy humanity (the Cain breakup dialogue). Even more stunning is that this work of raw emotion and aesthetic beauty (which ends with the mingling of classical music with songs by Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan) was commissioned as a commercial for a phone company. (Thus, the breakup over the phone.) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575430769235" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The episode that I’m most proud of in this batch on ok.ru is the second part of my interview with Colin MacCabe, discussing various aspect of Godard’s work. Firstly, I remade this episode entirely — I edited from the original interview tape, leaving all of what MacCabe had said (I had initially cut a now-fascinating bit about Godard surely opposing the neo-liberalism that runs through current European politics) and using better copies of the film clips I had initially included in the episode. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Secondly, there is the range of topics we covered in a short amount of time. They include the viewer’s response to Godard’s use of so many references (MacCabe’s answer to this is very instructive; it gives Godard fans an answer to those they may know who remark that Godard’s work is too layered to be comprehensible), Godard’s then-current political position, the use of autobiography in Godard’s essays and fiction films (including his appearances as “Uncle Jean” the crazy filmmaker), the seminal importance of <i>Histoire(s) du Cinema</i> to his output during the late Eighties and Nineties, the themes in his transitional work <i>In Praise of Love</i>, and, not forgetting, Godard’s much-ignored (or misunderstood) sense of humor.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575541590611" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/search/label/Bob%20Rafelson">I saluted Bob Rafelson first on this blog</a> and then did three episodes on the show about him. The first episode covered his best-known period, in which he made films for his mini-studio BBS, aka the House The Monkees Built. Thus, we begin with <i>Head</i> and end with his non-BBS <i>Stay Hungry</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575594412627" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The second episode in this series of shows covers his next three films, which came out at intervals (by this point, Rafelson had burned some bridges in the film industry, and he was also pursuing his biggest interest, traveling). So, we begin with his “comeback” in 1981, <i>The Postman Always Rings Twice</i>, and end with the film he proclaimed his favorite, the adventure saga/character study <i>Mountains of the Moon</i> (1990).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575650183763" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The third and last of this series of episodes covers Rafelson’s last four works for hire. These range from the screwball comedy <i>Man Trouble</i> (1992) to his underseen, terrific last film, <i>No Good Deed</i> (2002), starring Samuel L. Jackson. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575705627219" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The next show focuses on a French romantic comedy-drama that hasn’t ever been available in the U.S., <i>Adorable Liar</i>, directed and cowritten by Michel Deville. The most intriguing thing about it is that the two very cute lead actresses later worked for Godard (whereas Deville had just worked with… Anna Karina!): Marina Vlady and Macha Meril. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s a cute, slight film about two sisters from the provinces in Paris. One of them (Marina) lies to men a lot, to the extent that when she finally meets her true love — well, he just doesn’t believe her. Among the cast are two Funhouse faves when they both very young men: Pierre Clementi (in his movie role) and the great Michael Lonsdale. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575760939603" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I was very pleased to interview Balthazar Clementi, the son of the actor-filmmaker Pierre Clementi, when he was in NYC promoting his father’s films as a director (plus the U.S. publication of his dad’s memoir, <i>A Few Personal Messages</i>). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In this episode (the first of a projected three), we discuss his father’s filmmaking, which works as both a diary of his very busy life in the Sixties and Seventies (with his friends — Nico, Jean-Pierre Kalfon, Tina Aumont, Viva — and his costars — Deneuve, Piccoli, Klaus Kinski, Udo Kier — showing up in various candid moments) and avant-garde meditations on the periods in which the footage was shot. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5575805504083" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The final new episode (barring an Xmas show that isn’t good to post, for another year at least) was a discussion of, and scenes from, a lost major-studio film that was yet another fascinating failure from the era in which the major studios (MGM, in this case) were all trying to reproduce the success of <i>Easy Rider</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>The Magic Garden of Stanley Sweetheart</i> (1970) is an incredible mess, but one of those messes from that insanely productive period in which even the failures make for compelling viewing. Here, the film boasts (besides wonderful NYC location footage) two items that make it one-of-a-kind: the first are two supporting players (folk singer Holly Near and psychedelic frontman turned gay standup comic Michael Greer) who are so good in their roles that they steal the film away from its lead, Don Johnson (in his first film role).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The second amazing aspect of the picture is the score. Certain “hard” bands were signed to MGM Records, so their music fits with the plot and images, but the light, bubblegum sound of the Mike Curb Congregation is also heard. Their cover of “Happy Together” is just lame, but the fact that the catchy-as-fuck “Sweet Gingerbread Man” (by Michel Legrand and Marilyn & Alan Bergman) is used in trippy, sexy scenes (including one right after Johnson has had a threesome with two his hippie girlfriends) is a mind-blower. The song would be better suited for <i>Willy Wonka</i> or <i>Doctor Dolittle</i>, but it wound up in this film and thus made for sublimely silly musical interludes. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/5576050084435" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Again, the Media Funhouse channel on OK.ru <a href="https://ok.ru/video/c11671379">can be found here</a>.<br /><br />As it currently stands, MNN has reached its new HQ and has put back into action its live streams. This is great news for me, as I welcome every like-minded viewer we can get in “the tent.” As of the day this blog post goes up, the streams at mnn.org are back up and working. The one that airs Media Funhouse at 1:00 a.m. late Saturday/early Sunday <a href="https://www.mnn.org/watch/channels/spirit-channel">can be found here</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I have been informed that they are still fine-tuning these streams, but they look delightful as of this writing, so I can only hope they will remain up and working for a long time to come….</span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-34380697314524859292022-11-23T03:42:00.003-05:002023-11-23T02:26:41.934-05:00The annual viewing of Robert Vaughn mocked by clowns (A Thanksgiving ritual)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWkXjkmrH9P3vWZnmRzMPKWQlTDNoJV96VhU8ScgH_wbjoOcVyEcj8-wvz5jexxwLYe8NAvshGamR_VHg3EmgFHPpZs4DlDlxCc2b9cJ9sk2JP0HwRhm_spLIKzoV2uEXXbBrwb4dgplIWLRXls9-XwzT4d5YWiaO-HzHcBHY5m6ELXE7qv7kAVxCKw/s720/vaughn.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="720" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWkXjkmrH9P3vWZnmRzMPKWQlTDNoJV96VhU8ScgH_wbjoOcVyEcj8-wvz5jexxwLYe8NAvshGamR_VHg3EmgFHPpZs4DlDlxCc2b9cJ9sk2JP0HwRhm_spLIKzoV2uEXXbBrwb4dgplIWLRXls9-XwzT4d5YWiaO-HzHcBHY5m6ELXE7qv7kAVxCKw/w320-h235/vaughn.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I have introduced this clip for nearly 30 years now, on the
Funhouse TV show (which celebrated its 29th anniversary back in September of this year) and also on this blog. This year, we have emerged from
on-again, off-again lockdown status to be where most of us knew we’d be back in
2020 — just getting on with our lives, with COVID sticking around basically
forever, as plagues brewed up by man are wont to do. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">America’s economy is in a mess, there are various forms of
crime on the streets, and people are diverting themselves at this minute by
discussing a social media platform as if it is the end-all, be-all of human
communication. The proxy war (between light-skinned foreign people) isn’t as news-worthy
as it was, so pundits are busy wondering if the 2024 presidential election
will simply be a do-over of 2020, with two deranged, empty old white guys
battling it out. Our Gerontocracy = No. 1! </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Surely, the only way to deal with the abovementioned
problems is to simply bask in the holiday glow of the former “man from
U.N.C.L.E.” being mocked by clowns as he reads the U.S. Constitution at the Macy’s
Thanksgiving Day Parade in 1986. By this time, I’ve seen it so many times I
begin to simply look at the clowns rather than the rapidly-more-irritated Big
Bob V. Watch as someone in the studio tries to “save” him by putting his head
in the upper corner of the image and showing us a different image in the center of the screen. </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If anyone knows anyone who worked on the shoot for this
parade, or who can tell us how angry Vaughn was when the segment was over,
please get in touch. In the meantime — enjoy!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-small;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxLKIL_igEMb4T0r8HMRWuFI-ai_obabVQw_hBRQ1DPQWhP2zrK3-uxaKSPAe61bKCrEAySmxEWIejT1h2vFw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-6801258608167034182022-10-07T17:15:00.005-04:002022-10-25T00:33:56.476-04:00Media Funhouse guests speak about Godard<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sdL-eJtYZ6j4-V8nb6QTZXP3DJHNGDdltuDf4IZN6eaRjQUzhS4JgNV6BVtJVxeIQxFn-7h-eC1eicHdMNufKnwsr5n33AiqnH2qUZSpZvsaDEWwegyht4oGuIMd7RBj1Ys6EaAviOjon5fR6V2nCdcEzSznpNY3nVTZv-1pUg0KF227Ar0h8hJKXg/s1194/Jean-luc%20Godard%20with%20camera.PNG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="623" data-original-width="1194" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5sdL-eJtYZ6j4-V8nb6QTZXP3DJHNGDdltuDf4IZN6eaRjQUzhS4JgNV6BVtJVxeIQxFn-7h-eC1eicHdMNufKnwsr5n33AiqnH2qUZSpZvsaDEWwegyht4oGuIMd7RBj1Ys6EaAviOjon5fR6V2nCdcEzSznpNY3nVTZv-1pUg0KF227Ar0h8hJKXg/s320/Jean-luc%20Godard%20with%20camera.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>It’s been a few weeks since Uncle Jean (aka Jean-Luc Godard) died, and I do plan on writing something about his life and work for this blog. But in the meantime, I wanted to post what I initially thought of as “the end” of the piece, namely a collection of eight videos in which Media Funhouse interview subjects spoke about Godard. Two of the guests were admirers who happened to meet Godard as their indie filmmaking careers flourished; two were performers in his 1980s films (commonly thought of as his “comeback” films, although he never really left — he just stopped and then restarted making fiction films); three were collaborators behind the camera; and one wrote the first (and still best) biography of Godard in English.<p></p><p>I should explain that these interviews were done under various conditions. In some, I spoke to the guest under very tight time constraints, so my Godard-related questions were slipped in “under the wire.” In others we had ample time with the guest and so they could go on at length about their admiration for, or work with, Godard. The interviews were shot in conference rooms, hotel rooms, a Lincoln Center office, and one artist’s kitchen. I was very happy to get these responses about a filmmaker that clearly fascinated the interview subjects as much as he fascinated all of his diehard fans for the last six decades-plus, and I’m now happy to share them all in one package. </p><p>*****</p><p>As an “appetizer,” two clips from different interviews with Hal Hartley, where I asked him about Godard and his influences. He had interviewed Godard for a U.S. filmmaking magazine and had the great experience of telling Uncle Jean that he went to one of Godard’s recent films with his actor-friend Martin Donovan, who “laughed at the wrong part” of the film. Godard’s answer? “There are no wrong parts.”</p><p>I used that as a springboard for an earlier question to Hartley in the ’96 interview and then slipped in a query about Godard before the end of the chat. In ’06 Hartley answered the question in a broader sense, discussing how important it is for filmmakers to have influences and to openly copy them, on the way to developing one’s own style. </p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ydMdN31JAxo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>Leos Carax is one of the most talented directors around, but few know about his acting career. There hasn’t been much to it (six supporting roles of various size in films directed by others) — then again, his filmmaking career has consisted of only six (splendid) features so far. </p><p>He made his acting debut on film (minus a bit as an extra in one of his own pictures) in Godard’s KING LEAR (1987). I asked him about his appearance in that film and also about his being influenced by the French New Wave.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/72odEIzpLLo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>Next up is Jane Birkin. Ms. Birkin acted only once for Godard, in SOIGNE TA DROITE (Keep Your Right Up, 1987). She had a small part, but I thought it was still important to ask her what that time spent with JLG was like, and she came up with a lovely portrait of a cranky, laser-focused man with a bad cold. (None of which should surprise a diehard Uncle Jean fan.)</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0SVnQIEVaRk" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>Independent filmmaker Amos Poe discussed his paean to Godard, UNMADE BEDS (1976), in my interview with him. That film revolves around a guy in ’76 NYC who believes he’s living in a French New Wave movie at the turn of the Sixties.</p><p>That part of our chat was interesting, but an even juicier morsel came out later in our lengthy interview: Amos had been ripped off money-wise by Uncle Jean! Watch the clip for details, but the story involves Debbie Harry, Chris Stein, Robert Fripp, and a proposed remake of ALPHAVILLE.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hLujk9nznBw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>The filmmaker Claude Miller served a long and fruitful apprenticeship assisting other directors in the 1960s. He was as an assistant director or production manager for Bresson, Truffaut, Demy, and Godard. I got reflections from him on three of those four, and here is his remembrance of time working with Godard on 2 or 3 THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HER (production manager, and he’s also seen as an actor behind a pile of books on a table in one sequence), LA CHINOISE (no official credit, but he said he worked on the film to me), and WEEKEND (assistant director).</p><p>He had fond memories of working with JLG, and he certainly was present at a great moment in Godard’s career — when he was making his “last” fiction films, before he went fully political (and non-fictional) for a decade.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kj3zEemEu-I" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>D.A. Pennebaker was a consummate documentarian who shared quite a lot in my discussion with him, reviewing his older films while also promoting his more recent ones with his partner/wife Chris Hegedus. His time with Godard was spent making (with his partner Richard Leacock and Uncle Jean) a Godard project called 1 A.M. (ONE AMERICAN MOVIE). It was to be a sort of panorama of America on the brink of revolution, but Godard left the project after most of the footage was shot and abandoned the whole thing.</p><p>What Pennebaker edited together, called ONE P.M., does play like one of Godard’s “pitch” storyboards (drawn so he could get a notion of what he wanted, but also to cajole money out of producers). It’s a series of unrelated episodes, some documentary, some fiction: Rip Torn acts up a storm around NYC, Eldridge Cleaver is seen being wary of the filmmakers’ cameras, Tom Hayden gives lengthy speeches, and the Jefferson Airplane beat the Beatles to the punch by having a rooftop concert months before LET IT BE. (And getting chased off by the cops.)</p><p>In the meantime, we see Pennebaker’s footage of Godard staging and shooting some of the scenes — it’s by far one of the closest studies of Godard at work in the Sixties. Even though he’s not making a classic film, you can still see his imagination (and budding interest in radical politics) radiating all around him.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i0UWoJi-Cjs" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>The last two interviews featured here gave me the most information about Godard as an artist (and as a person, although Birkin’s remarks can always be kept in mind). Cinematographer Caroline Champetier, who worked with JLG for a number of years on every project he did, from fiction features to video essays, provided some excellent insights about his working methods. Here we talk about her first film with him, SOIGNE TA DROITE, where she was behind the camera filming Godard as an actor (playing his “Uncle Jean” character – this time called “The Prince”).</p><p>She also rebuffs the notion that he was a master of lighting and instead calls him a “master of framing,” detailing how his very specific methods of framing an image made his visuals so distinct and readily recognizable.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oLmiYZ4JA2c" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>And finally: The only full-length interview I did that was entirely concerned with Godard was with film critic and historian Colin MacCabe, whose biography “Godard: Portrait of the Artist at Seventy” had just been published. (The first biography in English and, as I said above, still the best one in this language.) When I spoke to him in early 2004, a lot of Godard’s “late period” films had yet to come out on DVD (and there was no such thing as the “underside of the Internet” where rare foreign films with English subs were lurking, ready to be grabbed and watched).</p><p>I had seen Godard’s film and video work of that time at select screenings at rep houses and (mostly) MoMA, so I was able to talk about it with Mr. MacCabe, but I wasn’t sure if my viewership had, so I spoke with him here about Godard’s perception of his audience and how one should watch his brilliant eight-part sensory overload, HISTOIRE(S) DU CINEMA (made from 1988-98). </p><p>Mr. MacCabe, who had not only interviewed Godard many times and wrote the biography but also produced three of his video essays, was quite generous with his knowledge of his subject and gave me some very valuable answers about how to take in the essays, which are indeed the masterworks of the last three decades of Godard’s career (along with a few of the final fiction films). This is part of a longer chat.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9vuaWGZlXUk" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-50771688903174503412022-08-18T16:44:00.065-04:002022-08-29T00:33:15.454-04:00World traveler and maker of hardboiled movies: Deceased Artiste Bob Rafelson "for hire" (part 2 of two)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzlF0bn7zrZBTIlkYp89We1EOGv8aBNX4KzGiV5g04ucIl4A2Ws5EMJMzFMSX2LYCloV2gaYik2mC4bBvyDzyIIXelMw_h6krAjHCpH85RjUPZ_0qDcb9oEXf3TZof8ecIZ2ptzdtlr3XU55WbBktzrj7f5rt8zdgCljFobcDIozuPhsKcxlFOpZJrg/s1189/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-18%20at%204.07.09%20AM.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="805" data-original-width="1189" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIzlF0bn7zrZBTIlkYp89We1EOGv8aBNX4KzGiV5g04ucIl4A2Ws5EMJMzFMSX2LYCloV2gaYik2mC4bBvyDzyIIXelMw_h6krAjHCpH85RjUPZ_0qDcb9oEXf3TZof8ecIZ2ptzdtlr3XU55WbBktzrj7f5rt8zdgCljFobcDIozuPhsKcxlFOpZJrg/w200-h136/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-18%20at%204.07.09%20AM.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rafelson at the <i>Postman</i><br />premiere with his stars.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the late 1970s Bob Rafelson had a difficult time getting a picture made. His production company BBS had broken up — in </span><a href="https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/movies/a26454547/bob-rafelson-interview/" style="font-family: helvetica;">the Esquire article written about him in 2019</a><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, Rafelson avoids talking about his breakup with the other “B” in BBS, Bert Schneider, until he finally states to the interviewer that “if [a] person didn’t live up to Bert’s expectations . . . he would cut them dead. I mean totally eliminate them. He could not see it from their point of view.” He then lists a bunch of people that he claims Schneider (who died in 2011) stopped communicating with, including Jaglom, Nicholson, Beatty, Malick, Candice Bergen (who was in a relationship with Schneider for a few years), and himself.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the first part of this piece I mentioned the two projects that fell apart on Rafelson in the late 1970s, an adaptation of the novel <i>At Play in the Fields of the Lord</i> and the Redford prison film <i>Brubaker</i>, both of which Rafelson had done much preproduction research for. The story that he had a violent physical encounter with a studio head on the set of <i>Brubaker</i> made the rounds, and he was no longer a “player” in Hollywood. But then his old friend Jack had a project he thought Rafelson could carry off to perfection….</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24dz3We98lB2hNjnGSdWB7-7ajO7UYfOs7sZxikk-ICuws8QiYfSv8YDsA6uvK14HyGbbZS0xwALNTiATbcIf8X2Hyi_y0RX3RoOGmcMTUEqKhUo8djriuukNeUNstZqvuhKe87gha8_y7VJ310T_Y32ifOWqCunyStHYxRdWOQ49ABG1Wg7Nm0Yj7A/s444/Rafelson%20headshot%20later.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="444" data-original-width="294" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24dz3We98lB2hNjnGSdWB7-7ajO7UYfOs7sZxikk-ICuws8QiYfSv8YDsA6uvK14HyGbbZS0xwALNTiATbcIf8X2Hyi_y0RX3RoOGmcMTUEqKhUo8djriuukNeUNstZqvuhKe87gha8_y7VJ310T_Y32ifOWqCunyStHYxRdWOQ49ABG1Wg7Nm0Yj7A/w133-h200/Rafelson%20headshot%20later.png" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The idea was to remake <i>The Postman Always Rings Twice</i>, returning to the James M. Cain novel and ignoring the reworkings of the book that had taken place in past adaptations of it — which included a classic (but tame) Hollywood adaptation with Garfield and Turner and three foreign versions of the book. (Two are uncredited. The most noted of the trio is Visconti’s 1943 film <i>Ossessione</i>.) Rafelson was indeed a great choice to adapt the book, and the success of his adaptation led to him working in the “fall-back” genre (hardboiled, noir source matter) that he was to return to four more times in his career. To put it plainly, hardboiled stories were ALL he made in the second and last part of his career (1981-2002), except for the very personal adventure film <i>Mountains of the Moon</i>.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Nicholson could write his own ticket by the late Seventies, and so he got Lorimar, the production company, to agree that Rafelson would have no interference from studio heads and would have final cut. What was created was a fascinating film that veers sharply away from the previous American <i>Postman</i>, as Rafelson wasn’t a fan of film noir (a curious fact, cited on p. 19 in Jay Boyer’s book <i>Bob Rafelson: Hollywood Maverick</i>, Twayne Publishers, 1996).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Instead Rafelson wanted his film to be true to its source matter, a tale of explosive sexuality and shifting morality (and loyalties) that had no trace of the romantic about it — until the end where it fell to the two stars to convey the fact that the instinct-driven lead characters might indeed be capable of actual love for each other. The filmmaker chose two excellent partners to craft the film — his first as a director “for hire” but which he did make into a somewhat personal work.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first of his two key collaborators was cinematographer Sven Nykvist, he who gave us some of the most beautiful visuals in cinema, thanks to his decades-long work with Ingmar Bergman. In his book, Boyer elaborates what Rafelson was looking to create with Nykvist:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6BtazYuGi_zZDcfAdFYuNYO2ESswtUIEkY6Xr_aQDa644D1E0Wyx8gmPUsphe2F8hiTKY1GEUZoTyRSMqGIMUP7w2U2S5Qwmc6ZyiQNZf9uLbKVYjIb-NSyY6_vtlfI5FZAi7ZDHh5rpbElIbNWhE2R_L1IJB59KBYREQMSy8VOO3nnRjb0VtiWx2Q/s779/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-17%20at%203.58.37%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="779" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6BtazYuGi_zZDcfAdFYuNYO2ESswtUIEkY6Xr_aQDa644D1E0Wyx8gmPUsphe2F8hiTKY1GEUZoTyRSMqGIMUP7w2U2S5Qwmc6ZyiQNZf9uLbKVYjIb-NSyY6_vtlfI5FZAi7ZDHh5rpbElIbNWhE2R_L1IJB59KBYREQMSy8VOO3nnRjb0VtiWx2Q/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-17%20at%203.58.37%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><p>“Rafelson meant to explore the possibilities of deep-focus photography even more fully than he had in his earlier films. He wanted a look to this film that not only made use of several distinct visual planes but also allowed for high contrast of color between these planes — something he coined ‘Gregg Toland in color,’ after the famous cinematographer of Orson Welles’ black-and-white 1941 classic <i>Citizen Kane</i>….
“</p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Together Nykvist and Rafelson talked about avoiding the sepia toning that had become identified with films of the Depression period, of ridding themselves of the art deco trappings of such films…. To begin with, they would shoot in earth tones, avoiding the high colorization of some color cinematography, doing their best to capture the world of [lead characters] Frank and Cora and Nick as the human eye might see it…. Cain’s story was Depression era, one recalls, and there might be something in the lighting to suggest a dreariness of life that could serve to inspire the lethal in us all.” [pp. 79-80]</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSrKqfnR4Lkra8Cl_sEgRT2Ukh_Y1FRHSMlecsSoWnB9eUqsG_JB8VvDJBFJrZpezBh-3npgp6dYtfKyBNmrA24io5nhFZo2wflPVOUq22mtqtcegn1ncsDvByCIf0e_W6i_jzjamhiTf5dRHqjM-tnRb786PUXrIpnIGh9suvHsUyS7vb4JJ0vDODQ/s655/the_postman_always_rings_twice_1981_photo_2-332567325.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="655" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSrKqfnR4Lkra8Cl_sEgRT2Ukh_Y1FRHSMlecsSoWnB9eUqsG_JB8VvDJBFJrZpezBh-3npgp6dYtfKyBNmrA24io5nhFZo2wflPVOUq22mtqtcegn1ncsDvByCIf0e_W6i_jzjamhiTf5dRHqjM-tnRb786PUXrIpnIGh9suvHsUyS7vb4JJ0vDODQ/s320/the_postman_always_rings_twice_1981_photo_2-332567325.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Rafelson himself spoke about his work with Sven Nykvist when he was interviewed at the Midnight Sun film festival. He first talks about <i>Five Easy Pieces</i> and how he intentionally never moved the camera in all the exterior shots (it was allowed for the interior shots — which of course include the vigorous sex scene where Nicholson literally carries Sally Struthers as they mime the sex act.) Then he discusses his collaboration with Nykvist.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Viewers of the Funhouse TV show will be interested to know that Rafelson was invited to the film festival by Funhouse deity Aki Kaurismaki (read Rafelson’s own description of Aki at the video’s opening) and the great critic Peter von Bagh. The passage about cinematography begins here at 36:37.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M4uGuFtrc8M" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The other key behind-the-camera collaborator was David Mamet, who made his screenwriting debut with Rafelson’s <i>Postman</i>. Mamet was already an established playwright but had yet to write anything for film, and so he let himself be cajoled by Rafelson into transforming Cain’s Thirties tale of primal emotion and existential fatalism into a film fit for the Eighties.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film thus became a stylized version of the book, but the stylization was not the “neo-noir” look that was used in pastiches like <i>Body Heat</i> — instead, Rafelson chose a “duller” palette of colors and communicated the “life on a shoestring” quality of Depression-era existence with sharply defined characters, taut dialogue, and attractive yet memorably bleaker-colored images.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And there was indeed a memorable dose of sex in the film. That’s an element that mainstream American filmmaking now avoids like the plague (in fear that someone will be offended by something they see), but in 1980 (when <i>Postman</i> was shot) the Seventies were still alive in terms of an unflinching attitude toward sex.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEVw8ZVGqiE4DH0TX6h6HRfURQloYIkHe-GPic_Dx3VTN93MysKbWQl5xlqpEh28wVAt8dw_P7NtvkEQodPhyNDihYC4mYWWL7_-KqXnlb_STiB7jtgN3Fk6ex8f9gDSRQupQzKQurm-u-NeMuHBwtsiGkS96f0iHtYV9OyN3taXuyAQFFda9CVHM5w/s1280/tumblr_my79uwowCb1qkcj94o1_1280.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="893" data-original-width="1280" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEVw8ZVGqiE4DH0TX6h6HRfURQloYIkHe-GPic_Dx3VTN93MysKbWQl5xlqpEh28wVAt8dw_P7NtvkEQodPhyNDihYC4mYWWL7_-KqXnlb_STiB7jtgN3Fk6ex8f9gDSRQupQzKQurm-u-NeMuHBwtsiGkS96f0iHtYV9OyN3taXuyAQFFda9CVHM5w/s320/tumblr_my79uwowCb1qkcj94o1_1280.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />The key sequence here, when the film really kicks into gear, is when drifter Frank Chambers (Jack Nicholson) finally loses his cool and attacks the bored Cora (Jessica Lange). It begins with her beating him off, seemingly introducing a rape sequence, but her own primal urges come to the fore when she starts responding to Frank’s animal lust and then the moment that most reviewers doted on, when she stops Frank completely, in order to sweep all of her cooking materials off of the table so they can continue on a flat surface with nothing in their way. (“All right, c’mon, huh? Come on, come on...” Cora beckons.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This sex sequence is performed with both actors fully dressed — Cora’s blouse is pulled down but not her slip, and Frank has still got everything on. The shots that bring home the immediate and aggressive nature of their coupling come when we see between Frank’s hand between her legs, rubbing feverishly through her panties. She takes away his hand, only to replace it with her own (and then his hand enfolds hers as she touches herself). Here, the Seventies does insert itself [ouch] into the Thirties as we are witnessing Cora experiencing orgasm as she and Frank rut like crazed animals on the kitchen table.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film contains only a few other sex sequences after this one, but the scene has so imprinted itself on the viewer’s mind (since it erupts after visual inferences have been made to Frank scoping out Cora) that Rafelson’s <i>Postman</i> became known as a “sexy” crime picture. (The phrase “erotic thriller” didn’t come into heavy usage until the late Eighties/early Nineties.) It thus did quite well at the box office and ensured Rafelson was safely back in the biz for at least another few years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_xxeQQbOerR2XSPgQ8_vsOp-RCEesCeENg4wFSPyJ-9BlrzXzvcVXyX89zcqLUkpI7f1uikVuC0Fufk2ovfD0LbezPlfQ1Vxkh8TWqwVPH4e8FeGcUQGa5W7wxPqZiqWJ6w_-y7dtCLy26I18Y065YAUaW1hIT4Uu8Ik8KDIPX8_HuLry-nHpwu68w/s1200/postman-1200-1200-675-675-crop-000000.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_xxeQQbOerR2XSPgQ8_vsOp-RCEesCeENg4wFSPyJ-9BlrzXzvcVXyX89zcqLUkpI7f1uikVuC0Fufk2ovfD0LbezPlfQ1Vxkh8TWqwVPH4e8FeGcUQGa5W7wxPqZiqWJ6w_-y7dtCLy26I18Y065YAUaW1hIT4Uu8Ik8KDIPX8_HuLry-nHpwu68w/s320/postman-1200-1200-675-675-crop-000000.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nicholson, Lange.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most striking thing about rewatching the film after not having seen it in decades is the amount of time that is spent reverently rendering the twists and turns of Cain’s book. The initial attempt to kill Cora’s husband (John Colicos) by Frank fails miserably, but Cora and he then go straight back to business, planning a more nuanced murder plot. It is then revealed to them that Cora will inherit a lot of money due to an insurance policy recently bought by the husband — and we then are treated to a bunch of sequences showing how crooked lawyers can easily deflect a murder verdict from two very guilty people. (And how those people will be played against each other by the prosecution.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Mamet and Rafelson spend so much time on the legal nuances that the characters of the lawyers (led by Michael Lerner as the defense attorney for Cora and Frank) register as being much, much sleazier than their lustful, murderous clients ever were. This leads to the third act, where it seems possible that Cora and Frank might indeed live happily ever after — but Frank can’t curb his libido, thereby ushering in the film’s oddest sequence (straight from the book) when Frank has a side-affair with a carnival big-cat trainer (Anjelica Huston) and he comes back to Cora, who has a present from the tamer, a large feline, sitting on their bed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytwyd5Z1kYFED9r9DvX16hhGVsiWIj_pYNWlkv3QthVZuSwBBIW0sE_UxGqZNl8Dl5UpUdkYPhv-wb8DBp0VuRjg7X1KtrPkv3DHxXe4rb-dhTvNaV0zOzaMiO9ezKzk5V64qpYTWC1mOIC2WlSxXdtXv1793SPY8Pl5BXOGnKnd4B2S5OoRj7Hg1HQ/s640/17100177-7482-a.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytwyd5Z1kYFED9r9DvX16hhGVsiWIj_pYNWlkv3QthVZuSwBBIW0sE_UxGqZNl8Dl5UpUdkYPhv-wb8DBp0VuRjg7X1KtrPkv3DHxXe4rb-dhTvNaV0zOzaMiO9ezKzk5V64qpYTWC1mOIC2WlSxXdtXv1793SPY8Pl5BXOGnKnd4B2S5OoRj7Hg1HQ/s320/17100177-7482-a.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anjelica Huston.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The big-cat sequence on the bed sequence is such an odd image that we re-enter for at least a few minutes the “surreal images in realistic settings” aspect of Rafelson’s earlier films, most prominently the sequence in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">King of Marvin Gardens</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> where both brothers are seen on the beach at Atlantic City riding different colored horses. (A more comic, eccentric moment occurs in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Stay Hungry</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, when body builders clad only in their briefs run through the streets of Birmingham, Alabama.)</span><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Postman</i> brought Rafelson back to his regular practice of spotlighting talented supporting performers. Here, one sees Anjelica Huston affecting a bizarre accent as the animal tamer; Michael Lerner as the ultimate scheming lawyer (who is somewhat of a “hero” since he frees the two leads, whom we both sorta like by that point in the film); even John Colicos as the boorish husband is somewhat sympathetic, since Rafelson loved to let his supporting cast shine.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFFqsTql4nzv3iwLN5GNJK-jlnBqiicWw_sB5SOU19mkBFC6nnWF0tqAIobYI3hOolAZ7WTxymGq3hdZBliwBtDBC_dL-F6mpVMXCBDiRMDsUs_Up6zRnq-fxELiGi-0yJdHKuZUd4J54UD7kXOAkFqeK295jrZYPWapMVKA9ZNShxkWMVEE2XbCWhQ/s568/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-17%20at%203.59.41%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="568" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFFqsTql4nzv3iwLN5GNJK-jlnBqiicWw_sB5SOU19mkBFC6nnWF0tqAIobYI3hOolAZ7WTxymGq3hdZBliwBtDBC_dL-F6mpVMXCBDiRMDsUs_Up6zRnq-fxELiGi-0yJdHKuZUd4J54UD7kXOAkFqeK295jrZYPWapMVKA9ZNShxkWMVEE2XbCWhQ/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-17%20at%203.59.41%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Much has been made in hardboiled-purist circles of Nicholson being too old for the character of Frank. (He was 43 when he shot the film, and the character in the book is 32.) But this was Jack still in his prime (read: before <i>Terms of Endearment</i>, when he started sailed through films, getting by on his personal charm [and eyebrows] and taking on insubstantial characters in boffo-budgeted multiplex fare). And so his Frank truly is a genuine-seeming character — a seamy guy who clearly has a criminal past but also some relatable tendencies.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The biggest discovery of the film (although she had already been featured in three films, including the sublime <i>All That Jazz</i> and the ridiculous ’76 <i>King Kong</i>) was Jessica Lange. Her Cora is a fully developed character who is fascinating to watch. Like Frank, her instincts are crooked, but she is trapped in her marriage, and thus her trying to get away from her husband and his low-rent diner makes total sense.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnQeW5G4oTwR3LoVbj4TLkeziqYr-w7d8tYM6n09OhtcB155VyXfTaxkYyOGYdFRCuxsq6JuHx5Mvn2n847oqulUS8414-khxLQDrgVhh739EKyPbQPsCsRH755GZhvzg-cqnxYeWLvjsBadiVB9k6rUhFHG6MC_pKcXR4LoDRETXxjzKd95uOdJEng/s862/Postman%20swim.PNG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="862" data-original-width="691" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnQeW5G4oTwR3LoVbj4TLkeziqYr-w7d8tYM6n09OhtcB155VyXfTaxkYyOGYdFRCuxsq6JuHx5Mvn2n847oqulUS8414-khxLQDrgVhh739EKyPbQPsCsRH755GZhvzg-cqnxYeWLvjsBadiVB9k6rUhFHG6MC_pKcXR4LoDRETXxjzKd95uOdJEng/w161-h200/Postman%20swim.PNG" width="161" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The swimming scene in<br />the '46 <i>Postman</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A final note, again in the for-purists-only dept: Mamet did an admirable job of keeping a good deal of Cain’s writing in the script, but he left out a very important swimming scene (wherein Cora “tests” Frank to see if he is holding anything against her) and the frame device of the novel, in which Frank is telling the whole story in prison, where he has been sentenced to die for the “murder” of Cora. (After she dies by chance in an auto accident — fate thus “knocking twice” for this couple.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It seems obvious that Rafelson and Mamet counted on the viewer liking Frank and Cora enough by the end of the film that her death seems sufficient “punishment” to Frank (clearly, her murderous instincts aside, she’s the first positive influence in his adult life). Thus, they took away the frame, which, of course, added yet another level of fatalism to Cain’s storyline (thus his work being beloved in France, well before the Serie Noire came into existence). A modernist touch and one that does somewhat remove the film from strictly being a “crime picture.” (Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/725545978566" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson didn’t make another feature until 1986. From the early Eighties onward there would be gaps of several years between his films, presumably because (as is evidenced by descriptions in his interviews) he had become a world traveler and preferred his journeys to foreign lands to fighting studio heads to get his personal vision back on movie screens.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the rarest items from Rafelson’s rather small output that is hiding in plain sight is the short “Modesty,” which he made in 1981 when he was staying in Paris. The film consists of a young student (Camille Casabianca) interviewing Rafelson (playing himself) and finding out some of his “secrets.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the piece he gets average French folk off the streets to recreate the kitchen scene from <i>Postman</i> and discusses how he is never sure when meeting a woman whether she likes him for himself or because he is a director. He shows himself having dinner with the young interviewer and two women who both seem eager to sleep with him. He then visits a parking garage where musicians rehearse and pays them to play a goodbye tune as he goes on a train to some other part of France.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film is odd but endearing. The oddest element is the interviewer, who looks 14 but was actually 21 when the film was shot. She was indeed a “ringer” — not an ordinary student appearing out of the blue at Rafelson’s doorstep to interview him, but the daughter of the great filmmaker Alain Cavalier (<i>L’insoumis</i> with Delon) and the editor Denise de Casabianca (<i>The Mother and the Whore</i>, <i>The Return of Martin Guerre</i>). Camille did go on to be a filmmaker, but the one credit of hers that will be familiar to American cinephiles is as the screenwriter for her father’s sublime <i>Thérèse</i> (1986).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AQcanxh8Cig" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson next directed an unusual work for hire. In 1983 he was hired by former Monkee Mike Nesmith (working as a producer) to direct <a href="https://youtu.be/nqAvFx3NxUM">the music-video for Lionel Richie’s “All Night Long.”</a> It was perfectly fine at the time (including some nice oblique camera angles), but like many music videos it’s a time capsule into a time when certain ridiculous things (break dancing, robot dancing) had cultural cache.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Then there was <i>Black Widow</i> (1987), a thoroughly entertaining thriller that had some small traces of Rafelson’s personality in it but could’ve been made by any number of talented directors working in Hollywood in ’87. The film is better than remembered — mostly because it’s harder to remember the tangential bits and pieces (and performers) that end up being “grace notes” that make the film worth rewatching.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNs6zV3WJanhmOMswYBDglDI5sPoTtahQ6s1tdH82_i243UzWjUJdY6c9Rw5siWBXqsnQ4EsKCRbrWiSU55gPJlZtOK2pWolR-iEAMtEVrCgth6wEJhOsR6NslVGJmZ2NSuLsCC41VBElDGsytsL6IPOr7_3M6zcNLp3YkNKLos0O2jj3JAdIkKWUiw/s1000/FYeTk0wVQAA4mR1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="1000" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNs6zV3WJanhmOMswYBDglDI5sPoTtahQ6s1tdH82_i243UzWjUJdY6c9Rw5siWBXqsnQ4EsKCRbrWiSU55gPJlZtOK2pWolR-iEAMtEVrCgth6wEJhOsR6NslVGJmZ2NSuLsCC41VBElDGsytsL6IPOr7_3M6zcNLp3YkNKLos0O2jj3JAdIkKWUiw/s320/FYeTk0wVQAA4mR1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Debra Winger, Theresa Russell.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Those performers include Mary Woronov as a deep-sea diving trainer, Lois Smith as the relative of one of the Widow’s victims, Diane Ladd as the relative of another, Terry O’Quinn as Debra Winger’s no-nonsense boss, James Hong as a wonderfully sarcastic private eye, and Dennis Hopper and Nicol Williamson as two of the dead husbands.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the problems with the film is the fact that it races through some of the early cases, and then settles on showing us the last one in great detail — the husband in that case is played by French actor Sami Frey, best known for starring in Godard’s <i>Band of Outsiders</i>. Frey is good in the role, but his character isn’t all that interesting.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4YfQOH2EgVhmAaOtJO58dBO2IIKf-Tt5zfqUlBoES2TS8yn0ev5P5vUFdfBx89S4Vnv8oq-zIXbl7m7euLm1wbbW674SQU4fjMAxpu1GrHnyo9sqT_9ZQzGqgobe3NEyYp7kyMtOdU376h3aSJ7n4dqWpHbM1JN057PLjd2GhweFFuBDCnUrEAFNrw/s600/debra_winger.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="600" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4YfQOH2EgVhmAaOtJO58dBO2IIKf-Tt5zfqUlBoES2TS8yn0ev5P5vUFdfBx89S4Vnv8oq-zIXbl7m7euLm1wbbW674SQU4fjMAxpu1GrHnyo9sqT_9ZQzGqgobe3NEyYp7kyMtOdU376h3aSJ7n4dqWpHbM1JN057PLjd2GhweFFuBDCnUrEAFNrw/s320/debra_winger.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winger, Sami Frey.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As a director for hire, Rafelson could change certain things, but he also had to film the screenplay he had agreed to direct. And so he was at the mercy of Ronald Bass, who was a new scripter in ’87 but went on to write a number of box office hits (<i>Rain Man</i>, <i>Waiting to Exhale</i>, <i>My Best Friend’s Wedding</i>, <i>How Stella Got Her Groove Back</i>). He was not a great writer, however, for a hardboiled/noir narrative.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Those of us who do not need character motivation to be spelled out 100% can forgive plenty of the strange little missteps in <i>Black Widow</i>, including the fact that Theresa Russell’s character is less a chameleon, as is first inferred, than she is a sociopath whose romances with her victims don’t seem convincing in the first place.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The central “driver” of the plot is the obsession that the heroine —a Justice Department data-analyst-turned-detective played by Debra Winger — develops with the “Widow,” but even that is never quite developed to the point where it fully makes sense. Does Winger also have a sociopathic strain and admires the Widow? Does she simply want to solve “the crimes of the decade”? Or does she have a crush on the Widow, as is implied in some brief moments?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WBGN0gb7HUN1kzDIlbLAZulQJ6Ks4vC0v9S1JcfSIWmPYANpJp5-syu8WKk_BKnowqKzDyJpFnvoJnmzn0YH7rTU5GLRfW5CE5qD5ehGDMz5C9kZI4iBmSYas9kdkigisplrGkIw5QGUyGBx1Ccxm4Varey_Geb5szX-EWDtueXGp4ouBSjeRVY6XQ/s478/FDo4S6uWUAMSkf-.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="478" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WBGN0gb7HUN1kzDIlbLAZulQJ6Ks4vC0v9S1JcfSIWmPYANpJp5-syu8WKk_BKnowqKzDyJpFnvoJnmzn0YH7rTU5GLRfW5CE5qD5ehGDMz5C9kZI4iBmSYas9kdkigisplrGkIw5QGUyGBx1Ccxm4Varey_Geb5szX-EWDtueXGp4ouBSjeRVY6XQ/s320/FDo4S6uWUAMSkf-.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />In essence, one can still enjoy the film despite its plotline bouncing from one episode to another and not answering the central question about its heroine’s motivation. (The sudden ending, wherein we are deceived, as is the Widow, is oh-so-clever but also seems like the finale of any number of detective TV show episodes.) What makes the film worth seeing, though, is Rafelson’s work with the two leads.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The always underrated Theresa Russell does a wonderful job with her role, as underwritten as it is. (Boyer notes in his book that we never do find out the Widow’s real name — by contrast, in Rafelson’s later <i>Man Trouble</i> a final plot point involves Nicholson’s character revealing his nerdy-sounding real name to his amour.) She is lively and vibrant enough to seem like the kind of woman who could insinuate her way into any man’s lifestyle and become the center of it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QLQrLscVaTe6M9ElkkoyBTLIBc62JjvXGC9dD8-_cy8GAv6eZGALndtaNM6sfOntZUx02ngdQJwySm_Vq4OMWeyoxjDZMP5n4ST9Jg_A9VrcTmYAcaJOeYv0MJB8IUnHTE2eiAR5XjaDv_msUCFZhVWdP7RdmvVyXJTsIAUZaCgU2T2pJDOBtw8yag/s1016/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-18%20at%203.45.21%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="544" data-original-width="1016" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QLQrLscVaTe6M9ElkkoyBTLIBc62JjvXGC9dD8-_cy8GAv6eZGALndtaNM6sfOntZUx02ngdQJwySm_Vq4OMWeyoxjDZMP5n4ST9Jg_A9VrcTmYAcaJOeYv0MJB8IUnHTE2eiAR5XjaDv_msUCFZhVWdP7RdmvVyXJTsIAUZaCgU2T2pJDOBtw8yag/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-18%20at%203.45.21%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Winger’s role is far more developed in the screenplay, but since her character’s feelings toward the Widow are blurry, she also does miracles with the character, making her a mess of conflicting impulses and an ultimately shrewd detective. <i>Black Widow</i> isn’t “personal” Rafelson, but it is an entertaining thriller, despite its plot holes. (Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/1349578787526" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson’s next film arose out of his love for traveling — and anthropology. First, a side-note about his traveling: in the last interviews he did the topic came up again and again, mostly to explain where he went between films and why there were so few of them (since he lived to be 89, but there are only 11 features from a 34-year career).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The writer for <i>Esquire</i>, Josh Karp, spends a paragraph detailing Rafelson’s wounds and injuries (in something akin to <a href="http://brassgoggles.co.uk/forum/index.php?topic=50128.0">the old “Tom Mix’s injuries” chart</a>). In his teen years, it is noted, Rafelson entered a rodeo in Arizona and broke his coccyx. He “broke both his arms and legs after falling during a riot in India.” He had physical confrontations with several people over the years, to the point where “all of this has left him with steel rods in his spine and one of his arms, a plate in his shoulder, and chronic pain.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another interview, <a href="https://www.aspentimes.com/news/bob-rafelson-looks-back-on-his-film-career-his-life-in-aspen-and-his-lost-masterwork-mountains-on-the-moon/">conducted in 2019 for <i>The Aspen Times</i></a> mentions him “trekking Africa and the Amazon alone, finding trouble in far-flung global danger zones.” Then the piece goes on to describe his most recent adventure as of that writing:</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-n-aFie8I7X8xXxuJRArzy4r3Qbx-8yY6BQNrblOlCJ3U2U20Dg_eWIXn_T_Uaw0sp-rQoyezZ-mUNZgB5z8n9DRbRmRmjTabrvyXjNckT8afBjD98CQR4MvuLI8lxQnE1GzbGarPvwziquzJOtHxVMoWH_JVDdtcrs7ThSfYzlxnN0qKWnDm71bNg/s274/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="274" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-n-aFie8I7X8xXxuJRArzy4r3Qbx-8yY6BQNrblOlCJ3U2U20Dg_eWIXn_T_Uaw0sp-rQoyezZ-mUNZgB5z8n9DRbRmRmjTabrvyXjNckT8afBjD98CQR4MvuLI8lxQnE1GzbGarPvwziquzJOtHxVMoWH_JVDdtcrs7ThSfYzlxnN0qKWnDm71bNg/s1600/images.jpeg" width="274" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latter-day Bob, ready to travel.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“In July [2019], he found himself in the riots in San Juan, Puerto Rico, as a crowd of 400,000 took to the streets seeking to depose Gov. Ricardo A. Rosselló. Rafelson had traveled to Puerto Rico with his two teenage sons. They rented an apartment next to the governor’s mansion, where the massive demonstrations began the day they arrived.</span><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"'So we got tear-gassed, pepper-sprayed, we’ve got rubber bullets flying on the first f-ing day,' Rafelson recalled. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"A cellphone video shows the chaotic scene, and a crowd parting for Rafelson, using hiking poles on the cobblestone street amid the throng. As he passes through, the youthful crowds break out in applause for him.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">"'The only reason why they were applauding was because I was quadruple the age of anyone else in the streets and they saw me every night,' he said. 'They were as young as I was in the ’60s when I marched.'"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In case you think that’s a bullshit story, here’s the footage:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZvMbWsIuh3Q" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson disliked being interviewed, but both of the above pieces he was happy to do, since both writers gave him ample space to rhapsodize about his personal favorite of his films, the 1990 adventure <i>Mountains of the Moon</i>. The film was like nothing else he ever made, and he proclaimed it to be the closest to his heart. As of this writing, the best way to obtain it is by buying a used U.S. DVD (make sure to get the “Widescreen edition”) on Artisan or the Spanish Blu-ray.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the Boyer book, Rafelson is quoted (from an <i>American Film</i> interview) as saying he first read about Sir Richard Burton (the explorer from the 19th century) when he studied anthropology and then came across his translations of erotic texts. He read about Burton’s explorations later on and clearly looked to him as a personal hero: “Of course, I do a substantial amount of traveling and I learned a lot about how to do it from him…. He would settle with various tribesmen for a period of time and then go onto the next civilization. He was a cultural thief in a way; he would steal what he thought was profound and move on, and I do some of that.” [pp. 95-96] </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxplAivKBfib7gfdkpyylKB_9IWGwD0Q8BCQ6YxIT-zE2EyjXtCy5CAXriu3iwxEsJ2p3vSzdqskKZGcrXzuk9EanBNVwZyNDT7YOsjQPGNov8RL62-dTWrmPwi44QFqMXdu01WCupmlYe4kJS4l1AUxYRauAYodmnY_MMJ64EmqdoyoG-EEezE5Kqg/s1000/MV5BMjA1MTVkYjAtZWY1OC00MDc1LTliMTctZDI0NDdjY2Y5YTk1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNzgyNDE0MjI@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="1000" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxplAivKBfib7gfdkpyylKB_9IWGwD0Q8BCQ6YxIT-zE2EyjXtCy5CAXriu3iwxEsJ2p3vSzdqskKZGcrXzuk9EanBNVwZyNDT7YOsjQPGNov8RL62-dTWrmPwi44QFqMXdu01WCupmlYe4kJS4l1AUxYRauAYodmnY_MMJ64EmqdoyoG-EEezE5Kqg/s320/MV5BMjA1MTVkYjAtZWY1OC00MDc1LTliMTctZDI0NDdjY2Y5YTk1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNzgyNDE0MjI@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patrick Bergin as Sir Richard Burton.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the <i>Aspen Times</i> piece, it is declared that Rafelson “spent 12 years developing the film and trekked himself an estimated 800 miles around the African continent following Burton’s footsteps (his home is still peppered with sculpture and art from his travels there).” Once the picture was greenlit by Carolco Productions, he worked with William Harrison, the author of a novel on Burton and his friendship-turned rivalry with John Hanning Speke, to craft a script that could be shot for a “small” amount of money.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He shot the film in 10 countries over three months for less than $15 million, and the miraculous part is that the film does look “epic” in its visuals. This was thanks to Rafelson’s top-notch work with cinematographer Roger Deakins (<i>1984</i>, numerous Coen bros titles). The film is indeed as “big” as Rafelson’s best Seventies movies were “small,” but the third act is about the basic emotions of envy, betrayal, and regret.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEF1d6tdgROC0IwBQMDOGJg0yG1dQespsZuIWR2dWInfxeW8MWI1qj09-LYLK0-3Rjup4VgmWwk04jXSTraXKOU2JD6MLPNiK0WaFV8EB_-pTP0Z5-mWBOB4Dap8qypA-lEI8J91vfx2Br3sv3oFS9En36JtL0fTv6LeE9cXINdxtcFnRXlYOPccvCAA/s1920/l_d74502f5-a740-4b4f-a056-5889dbce57b8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEF1d6tdgROC0IwBQMDOGJg0yG1dQespsZuIWR2dWInfxeW8MWI1qj09-LYLK0-3Rjup4VgmWwk04jXSTraXKOU2JD6MLPNiK0WaFV8EB_-pTP0Z5-mWBOB4Dap8qypA-lEI8J91vfx2Br3sv3oFS9En36JtL0fTv6LeE9cXINdxtcFnRXlYOPccvCAA/s320/l_d74502f5-a740-4b4f-a056-5889dbce57b8.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><p>The narrative of <i>Mountains</i> is more straightforward than the plots of Rafelson’s thrillers, but it still has its share of twists and turns. The first act is comprised of the first meeting of Burton (Patrick Bergin), an explorer with an insatiable thirst for knowledge about other cultures, and Speke (Iain Glen), a hunter whose travels are motivated by his desire to shoot big game in remote locales. The two head out on an expedition to find the source of the Nile River and fail miserably — they are the only survivors of their party.</p></span><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The second act, which takes up the bulk of the film (an hour out of 2:15), chronicles their second expedition to find the Nile’s source. This time, both men emerge with a theory they are certain is the answer — Speke believes the Nile begins at Lake Victoria, while Burton believe the River is the product of a basin of lakes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The third and most important act charts how the two friends fell out — Speke’s publisher (Richard E. Grant) convinced him that Burton had belittled him in the official report of the first expedition. Burton is befriended by David Livingston (of “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” fame) and a debate is set up between Burton and Speke. The surprising finale finds one of the ex-friends acting rashly out of a regained respect for the other.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhioWPuU-6B5BgFS03wZ04NmYY6BFHv-6LCEx8Q8bIM8abLK2nk23TKTO5ga_taEJ9UIpJU0oDuHxccjVCMN68sTX-0v0K4vPbpmoQ-zvuPqeRsTSNhN0mzbGaGpQqxh-umBvLi4DdYumTJfxz_SpT_jHZ6TENueDitKPybHjtQ2uxpS9l2mPBAOiFA/s1024/mountainsofthemoon1990_22174_1024x767_08082014015314.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhioWPuU-6B5BgFS03wZ04NmYY6BFHv-6LCEx8Q8bIM8abLK2nk23TKTO5ga_taEJ9UIpJU0oDuHxccjVCMN68sTX-0v0K4vPbpmoQ-zvuPqeRsTSNhN0mzbGaGpQqxh-umBvLi4DdYumTJfxz_SpT_jHZ6TENueDitKPybHjtQ2uxpS9l2mPBAOiFA/s320/mountainsofthemoon1990_22174_1024x767_08082014015314.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iain Glen and Bergin.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson clearly fashioned his film along the lines of classic adventure tales, and its visuals at points do bring to mind the work of Michael Curtiz and David Lean. However, the dialogue and the characters’ behavior include modern content that only appeared in films in the Seventies and after.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A great example of a sequence that could’ve been in a classic adventure picture is one where Burton volunteers to scare away two female lions who are about to pounce on a trapped slave. He does so successfully but is unaware of a male lion lying in wait on his flank. Speke, an expert marksman, takes out the male lion just as it leaps at Burton.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NbhfbT2aU0k" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A scene that reminds us that we’re watching a modern adventure movie comes when the crippled Burton, walking on crutches, urgently summons Speke, who wonders what the matter is. Moving quickly behind a rock formation, Burton hollers, “I can’t get my trousers down — I need to shit!” Errol Flynn and Stewart Granger never, ever acknowledged bodily functions in their macho adventure flicks.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Although working in a completely new genre, Rafelson still let his supporting actors get their big moments. Fiona Shaw plays Burton’s wife, who has to spur him back into action when his friend’s betrayal causes him to withdraw from the world.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Delroy Lindo has a featured role as the slave of a tribe who is befriended by Burton. He ends up being trapped again as a slave because he trusts Burton, and Burton risks his life trying to save him, shouting at one point in desperation, “He’s my friend!”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YNaTu-8atDw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And Richard E. Grant, always immaculate as upper crust prigs, is the cad who drives a wedge between Burton and Speke.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Glen is quite good as Speke, but Bergin clearly has the showier role as Burton. His work in the picture is so good because it seems that he is adding things to his portrayal that come from Burton’s other, non-Nile pursuits (in a very busy life that found the polymath being not only an adventurer but also an author, translator, and a lover of languages [who spoke 29 of them]).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i></i></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1tnvvSWmUwHDrfc-qYt88UiZNq5sKRmyBMFsJxnp4ZlujVpMPapQDPs-uixecga6HGIxMxkFMhDCBRXuuzbQ7twGov0doDzBFMEeSLWB8eIaggSTyc6Fd4gxj5Krkm7cNdAdEHWo7DZx6WD4uE4roOqs3CCoFKoCpeYX_iCyKmEAxRd1yxaeDsGfcA/s620/mountains-atd-050813.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="620" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1tnvvSWmUwHDrfc-qYt88UiZNq5sKRmyBMFsJxnp4ZlujVpMPapQDPs-uixecga6HGIxMxkFMhDCBRXuuzbQ7twGov0doDzBFMEeSLWB8eIaggSTyc6Fd4gxj5Krkm7cNdAdEHWo7DZx6WD4uE4roOqs3CCoFKoCpeYX_iCyKmEAxRd1yxaeDsGfcA/s320/mountains-atd-050813.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rafelson directs <i>Mountains</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i></i></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Mountains</i> received very disparate reviews and a brief theatrical run across the U.S. Some critics familiar with the life of Burton felt that Rafelson did a disservice to him by focusing only on his friendship with Speke. Other reviewers, however, admired Rafelson making such an “off brand” work. Sadly, it was the only time he was able to make such a globe-trotting picture, thanks to that weird period in the late Eighties when the studios needed much content for their video arms and were uncertain (again) as to what might “grab” viewers who had “everything” at their disposal at local video stores.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Among the film’s fans were Alexander Payne and Francis Coppola, who, when asked by Josh Karp in the 2019 <i>Esquire</i> profile if Rafelson deserved a Lifetime Achievement Oscar, said “Such an award would be appropriate if his only single film had been <i>Mountains of the Moon</i>.” Rafelson touted the film in every interview he did and requested that film programmers show <i>Mountains</i> when they paid tribute to his work, rather than the commonly seen <i>Five Easy Pieces</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson was so “high” on his great experience making the film that he published an article about the production. True to the one-off oddness of the whole enterprise, his piece appeared in <i>Elle</i> in the April 1990 issue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0W8PBOdTST_GpqcSIkKf2WvCbeuyoB5eBtaZORaVl-MPyy0YRBPyVL8HDULVKk_8rSBkc2_3Jv3L5PUnq-4ObxXUVcbu5EzG_OdrMpSloR10eLKQVclG0ya15rPuKQdrSVvesSN7JuXHc_bPssVTfFObspNuw6EBZUYx9F6ycGa5S3PXfKusD6A7dBw/s494/ti111961.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="262" data-original-width="494" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0W8PBOdTST_GpqcSIkKf2WvCbeuyoB5eBtaZORaVl-MPyy0YRBPyVL8HDULVKk_8rSBkc2_3Jv3L5PUnq-4ObxXUVcbu5EzG_OdrMpSloR10eLKQVclG0ya15rPuKQdrSVvesSN7JuXHc_bPssVTfFObspNuw6EBZUYx9F6ycGa5S3PXfKusD6A7dBw/s320/ti111961.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delroy Lindo, Bergin.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Boyer book includes one pithy reflection by Rafelson from the piece, offering some valuable info to world travelers about their apparel:</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“In the Amazon, I tried to take some Polaroids of a tribe not previously in contact with whites. They looked at the photos, then threw them aside. They had no mirrors, and therefore no reference points for images. However, they liked the colors of my shirt. Fortunately for me. I later found out they had killed two Peruvians in military khaki….”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Unlike Burton, I have no other language. (He mastered 24 [sic].) He had destinations in mind. I have tickets. He wrote books, translated Arabic poetry, was a brilliant swordsman. Swinburne thought he looked like the devil. I carry a Swiss Army knife and only succeed in looking ridiculous. But in remote
places it helps. Don’t look serious. Soldiers look serious. Anthropologists and missionaries look more so. If tribal people weave, then better to be adorned in bright, handwoven threads. A Pakistani shirt, pantaloons. A Rasta cap. Banana Republic can kill you.” [Boyer, pp 123-24, from “Director’s Diary,” <i>Elle</i> April ’90, p. 82]</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another great scene. (Note: The copies of the film that are “above ground” online are awful. One is best served obtaining this film on disc.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/S7gyibsEUAI" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson’s next film was thought of by critics and yours truly as his worst. In rewatching all of his features to write this, I found that <i>Stay Hungry</i> (discussed in Part 1) was actually a far clunkier comedy, <i>Blood and Wine</i> (see below) went very astray, and <i>Poodle Springs</i> (ditto) was a flat-out work for hire with barely any traces of Rafelson’s style.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i></i></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_sWQaN-iNjhCNS3qzZO0Tyjq3qsIoZZ6Iw8udcUHZTs0quvUqCa7_UVLT2E0Fk4lZkOS2DJZrN-73g7XzvbL0TqZosI4OTARaBddvwRima2mjjmV6OIfdYmVGw-4F2zrBbm6TqvbnCNU19LQxZEoBOwEiYV084aSslgii_kDXpoqgoRa1_5-O8nXqA/s1000/MV5BYjExNDA0YmItZmRlMC00NDJhLWFiOGEtZTY1NzIwNzBkYmMyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjA0MDQ0Mjc@._V1_.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="672" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_sWQaN-iNjhCNS3qzZO0Tyjq3qsIoZZ6Iw8udcUHZTs0quvUqCa7_UVLT2E0Fk4lZkOS2DJZrN-73g7XzvbL0TqZosI4OTARaBddvwRima2mjjmV6OIfdYmVGw-4F2zrBbm6TqvbnCNU19LQxZEoBOwEiYV084aSslgii_kDXpoqgoRa1_5-O8nXqA/w134-h200/MV5BYjExNDA0YmItZmRlMC00NDJhLWFiOGEtZTY1NzIwNzBkYmMyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjA0MDQ0Mjc@._V1_.jpg" width="134" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Posing for the<br />poster: Jack<br />and Ellen.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Man Trouble</i> (1992) took such a critical drubbing because on paper it sounded fascinating — a reunion of the director, writer (Carol Eastman), and star of <i>Five Easy Pieces</i>. The problem was what they reunited to make, namely an update on screwball comedy, blessed with a terrific cast and cursed with a trite storyline.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In his book on Rafelson, Boyer goes through the many steps that it took to get the film made. Eastman wrote the screenplay in the early Seventies, with the intention of starring Nicholson in the role he eventually played, a guard-dog trainer and general con man, and Jeanne Moreau as an insecure opera diva. She had hoped the film would be her directorial debut, but that idea was scratched when another film she scripted starring Nicholson (<i>The Fortune</i>) failed at the box office.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film then nearly got made in the Eighties with Jonathan Demme directing Nicholson and Diane Keaton, and then Robert De Niro and Jessica Lange. Al Pacino was then on the hook for the male lead, but he demanded rewrites and so a deal was worked out so that Jack could do the film “around” the shooting dates for his own directorial effort, <i>The Two Jakes</i> (1990).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Eastman said that the film was originally written with the opera singer as the star, but when Nicholson came onboard, his character had more prominence. He also made more money than anyone else on the production, since he was a superstar by the Nineties and commanded anywhere from $7 to $10 million per picture – and, despite his loyalty to both Rafelson and Eastman, he couldn’t lower his price for their project, since that would mean he’d have to take much less dough for future films.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSMqniS7hdudEvQxdwMiiTqVWVW1YMMSqUY_DA8WFHZXBGUJBri6DKmP4JCwCQ-8X8xA_H0ZEeVDHttOyNYjSm-7oxIuApmFmgD5avHx2TaxuHhjM-QFTDmcH14q94ukNHX8Qmk0FIR4ylzbVqLNDcFRBfPwatAC0A5LcmuKUcdh59wVvdsLodva9lA/s1000/MV5BZGY5NTBkMzAtNTEyZC00ODNlLTkxZDEtNWMzZWEwOTJiMDc0XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjA0MDQ0Mjc@._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="1000" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSMqniS7hdudEvQxdwMiiTqVWVW1YMMSqUY_DA8WFHZXBGUJBri6DKmP4JCwCQ-8X8xA_H0ZEeVDHttOyNYjSm-7oxIuApmFmgD5avHx2TaxuHhjM-QFTDmcH14q94ukNHX8Qmk0FIR4ylzbVqLNDcFRBfPwatAC0A5LcmuKUcdh59wVvdsLodva9lA/s320/MV5BZGY5NTBkMzAtNTEyZC00ODNlLTkxZDEtNWMzZWEwOTJiMDc0XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjA0MDQ0Mjc@._V1_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellen Barkin, Beverly D'Angelo,<br />Veronica Cartwright.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">All this is well and good, but what did the <i>Five Easy</i> veterans end up making? A fairly pleasant comedy, not especially memorable but not as painful as contemporary reviews made it out to be. It functions like any farce, in that the ridiculousness builds and builds to a crescendo that involves most of the characters.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here, again, Rafelson assembled an excellent cast and watching them is the strongest pleasure to be had from <i>Man Trouble</i>. Nicholson surprisingly underplays his role at points, and Barkin is charming, although pretty oddly cast as an opera star. Also featured in the picture are Beverly D’Angelo, Veronica Cartwright, Michael McKean, David Clennon, and Paul Mazursky. The nicest piece of stunt casting is that there’s a much-discussed crooked millionaire character who isn’t seen for two-thirds of the picture, but it is then revealed to be played by Nicholson’s longtime, Laker-watching friend, Harry Dean Stanton.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i></i></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnfPVBkWdCmKNCCUBdtQcQI45Ws-nfkluqiNgY4d_2oelu_s21X46aauPr1hEs7vRFNXK0CtE6AUzVSxExN5-2aIOwTD9GSqVcMbzTwerNJ2BDP2zv0TbwHHklJHMQCqZabAl0LzaFvrbp0fVa2pI5PSzqc72YDdJMr49Wrz1yZrTWnPujTO6X8ONsA/s1000/MV5BM2E2M2I2YmItMGE3Mi00MTNjLTk5NjAtMWZkNjQ5NmVlOWVhXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjA0MDQ0Mjc@._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="542" data-original-width="1000" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnfPVBkWdCmKNCCUBdtQcQI45Ws-nfkluqiNgY4d_2oelu_s21X46aauPr1hEs7vRFNXK0CtE6AUzVSxExN5-2aIOwTD9GSqVcMbzTwerNJ2BDP2zv0TbwHHklJHMQCqZabAl0LzaFvrbp0fVa2pI5PSzqc72YDdJMr49Wrz1yZrTWnPujTO6X8ONsA/s320/MV5BM2E2M2I2YmItMGE3Mi00MTNjLTk5NjAtMWZkNjQ5NmVlOWVhXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjA0MDQ0Mjc@._V1_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awaiting the Lakers season pass:<br />Jack and Harry Dean.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Man Trouble</i> is not a must-see by any means, but it does have some random charms. (Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/1883068566196" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">After <i>Man Trouble</i>, Rafelson made the first of two “erotic” short films for German producer Regina Ziegler (who worked in conjunction with German television). “Wet” (1994) is a trifle, scripted and directed by Rafelson, that concerns a nebbishy bathtub salesman who has a good-looking customer (Cynda Williams) come on to him.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Like the other entries in the Ziegler-produced series (made by Ken Russell, Susan Seidelman, and Melvin Van Peebles), we realize that this “shortie” (Rafelson’s term for it) is meant to funny and not all that erotic. We also sense that the short is moving toward a comic payoff. (Here it’s that the woman did all this to acquire a top-of-the-line bathtub for free.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBOt1y3q_HVO_f0jtfsGQKnE7U-aOUWghv_8uUcYhWvWA6A3mY_lBG-g7rA2MCpwKbkXOVl7-5pTtkYuU7tAKmzz-X3VNuMb7IkW1C3tdABlARmdBMxGCEgAXz5Xe070omeeBGyEvV29GsQg5b_yjOgpQW_hVgyri0iqieVfu-2tpK-qq3VrGHJCDJw/s640/Cynda%20Williams.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOBOt1y3q_HVO_f0jtfsGQKnE7U-aOUWghv_8uUcYhWvWA6A3mY_lBG-g7rA2MCpwKbkXOVl7-5pTtkYuU7tAKmzz-X3VNuMb7IkW1C3tdABlARmdBMxGCEgAXz5Xe070omeeBGyEvV29GsQg5b_yjOgpQW_hVgyri0iqieVfu-2tpK-qq3VrGHJCDJw/s320/Cynda%20Williams.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cynda Williams in "Wet" (short).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Although of course he did co-create “The Monkees,” Rafelson’s comedy films just don’t seem to gel. The second short he wrote and directed for Ziegler, “Porn.com” (2002), is kooky-on-purpose. At one point its lead, Rafelson himself, does a Monkees-like run away from a villain in a hotel room, sped up to resemble silent comedy.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iG3Z5cNlvN8ncfoTk9ULRHDVicD3p-CVGUKf2tJf9HhbUIdN8TEE_7_SJjENMtRclNWYLeXOuB3Xb1m6TnZRtFk7Lw7X4ccavVc3YwXYXTvLXIxljFlq1OwKDUCRsQupxUlXWG6Ofxx6M2MNiJF4b9sQFlz2iJKU_Tv4QHuZMHdIF3ZszUUSO5g-Ew/s392/erotic%202.PNG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="217" data-original-width="392" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iG3Z5cNlvN8ncfoTk9ULRHDVicD3p-CVGUKf2tJf9HhbUIdN8TEE_7_SJjENMtRclNWYLeXOuB3Xb1m6TnZRtFk7Lw7X4ccavVc3YwXYXTvLXIxljFlq1OwKDUCRsQupxUlXWG6Ofxx6M2MNiJF4b9sQFlz2iJKU_Tv4QHuZMHdIF3ZszUUSO5g-Ew/w200-h111/erotic%202.PNG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Porn.com" (short).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson plays “Matty Bonkers,” a beloved American independent director who hasn’t made a film in several years. While in Berlin, he is asked by a producer to take over a porn feature that is being made to pay off some gangsters. The most prominent aspects of this porn flick are that its female star is a frustrated classical musician who used to play cello in the nude and that the male star is playing a constantly horny Adolf Hitler (and he takes his role a bit too seriously).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In an effort to be comprehensive I mention both shorts, but they are more curiosities than important (or even erotic) exercises by Bob R.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson’s next film, <i>Blood and Wine</i> (1996), was another thriller. Giving it a rewatch one finds it’s not as bad as remembered, but it’s also too long for the strict confines of the plot, and the third act lags incredibly, even while the characters are feverishly double-crossing each other.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The plot revolves around a wine salesman (Nicholson) in need of $ who plots with a British safecracker (Michael Caine, with hair dyed back — referenced in the plot — and a consumptive cough) to rob one of his rich clients of a priceless necklace. </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The salesman is carrying on with the nanny (Jennifer Lopez, before her music career took off) who works in the home of the rich family that own the necklace. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8FuZZWE0NQy695bTGJl8OORtbF8T8rVdq2I3iiR-cF2umTKdWPOADlwmS8DR8eK1xjwnkVwVIu9j6ax7m5WUjs374Cozx_Y907nBpBRkGYYMjO_SHr7PHpsU67b7MgcP1fL0JSjV-pVvecO4OiDLh6DF8SYwZ5yr000ABiRuIxGrDnUcIoi1FYIwDw/s494/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-18%20at%204.08.17%20AM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="494" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy8FuZZWE0NQy695bTGJl8OORtbF8T8rVdq2I3iiR-cF2umTKdWPOADlwmS8DR8eK1xjwnkVwVIu9j6ax7m5WUjs374Cozx_Y907nBpBRkGYYMjO_SHr7PHpsU67b7MgcP1fL0JSjV-pVvecO4OiDLh6DF8SYwZ5yr000ABiRuIxGrDnUcIoi1FYIwDw/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-08-18%20at%204.08.17%20AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joking about the denial of age:<br />Jack and Michael.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">What he doesn’t know is that his stepson (Stephen Dorff) is also enamored of the nanny, and right after the theft takes place, the stepson and his mother (the salesman’s alcoholic wife, played by Judy Davis) come into possession of the necklace and want to sell it to get the million dollars it purportedly is worth.</span><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the film’s two scripters, Alison Cross, has had a pretty solid career writing for television, and when it reaches its last third <i>Blood and Wine</i> does indeed play like a TV-movie (or, to be kinder, a made-for-cable production). The film does have a suitably fatalistic ending, which makes it more like a theatrical feature than a telefilm, but the emphasis on the family unit becoming homicidal and the contrivances in the plot (such as having Lopez’s character becoming involved with both stepfather and stepson) brings us back to the world of fast-paced but still overly talkative television.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUKdfAsN736XdNUvGlH2lyiIk88b0ejqA5cPJSfwGL5yOxvo6wO0D6Jjsqess96VA1eARUG9OuckgBn3Wb0tJfCr1shdZ28un8Q1rzzwFRv-WJ3R76Xrin0dWicQbrqC_zG_pjQSkpzmpmCVloGRyG2QEujmElVqU0QhuIGHpuKBTGPkvQ_wdUhiV2g/s460/Shutterstock_5882043k.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="460" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicUKdfAsN736XdNUvGlH2lyiIk88b0ejqA5cPJSfwGL5yOxvo6wO0D6Jjsqess96VA1eARUG9OuckgBn3Wb0tJfCr1shdZ28un8Q1rzzwFRv-WJ3R76Xrin0dWicQbrqC_zG_pjQSkpzmpmCVloGRyG2QEujmElVqU0QhuIGHpuKBTGPkvQ_wdUhiV2g/s320/Shutterstock_5882043k.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack trips the light fantastic<br />with JLo.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This is one of the films that Rafelson made in the post-Seventies period that often plays simply as a work for hire. Thus, there are no scene-stealing moments for supporting players here — the five central actors are the focus of every scene, and the two foreign performers (Caine and Davis) do seem particularly “marked” for death, while one would much rather have the younger characters get killed out of the blue.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The failed marriage of Nicholson and Davis’ characters is the most galvanizing part of the film, since Davis is a powerful performer who can make even the smallest of roles shine. Caine is obviously an incredibly gifted scene-stealer, but his character here is simply a collection of numerous tics (including the dyed hair, an incessant cough, and Caine’s own cockney accent). Lopez and Dorff acquit themselves nicely, but one is simply fed up with their characters by the last third of the film. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9fDkhECStJhMkAmEteSebLwObX5JxjG9mjracwM_y68PAId8NsNPWCjhizQbfDOka7LDiR9KFSl-8qE8yGS3VOCHc5tMCXKUl8oostQfNUo8OAkElX-yi-mS_SDJaMJ2XJAnVrFUv4bpYx7gaDPkhH20-T9MaaMcibWwriSEeynSXlJ_IQdJtSQARw/s1280/large-screenshot3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="1280" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9fDkhECStJhMkAmEteSebLwObX5JxjG9mjracwM_y68PAId8NsNPWCjhizQbfDOka7LDiR9KFSl-8qE8yGS3VOCHc5tMCXKUl8oostQfNUo8OAkElX-yi-mS_SDJaMJ2XJAnVrFUv4bpYx7gaDPkhH20-T9MaaMcibWwriSEeynSXlJ_IQdJtSQARw/s320/large-screenshot3.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judy Davis in <i>Blood and Wine</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Since this is the last film Jack made with Rafelson, one would like to think that this is a kind of “summing up” of the work they did over the years (which included Rafelson directing him in five features, producing him in two others [<i>Easy Rider</i>, <i>A Safe Place</i>], as well as producing Nicholson’s first directorial effort [<i>Drive He Said</i>], and of course directing his script for <i>Head</i>).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Nicholson is back in quiet mode here for most of the picture, which is a blessing (by this point in the Nineties, he knew he could give a “Jack performance” and just sail through certain films). He does melt into the character, who is a loser circulating in a winner’s world and a seedy playboy who is trying to bank on his old charm.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_zbMeqsnBPwFiUniZ9ZAae8EOmjs8-NdEEHO6fVp0T_oTbBtmRuHY82O_SvoWWnB7yf_XspYawQ37LCX53x8oFM1d5oq1nft6Z0ocMAyjEmcFkaDa1ZndDrPzl55Mx-AuqxKs5S4RPs_cnuPkzchZG1RIdzCm2WSZ2tHNlFQoqhOk83lRNiC-VnoxA/s700/uo_1630243187-24677-4.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_zbMeqsnBPwFiUniZ9ZAae8EOmjs8-NdEEHO6fVp0T_oTbBtmRuHY82O_SvoWWnB7yf_XspYawQ37LCX53x8oFM1d5oq1nft6Z0ocMAyjEmcFkaDa1ZndDrPzl55Mx-AuqxKs5S4RPs_cnuPkzchZG1RIdzCm2WSZ2tHNlFQoqhOk83lRNiC-VnoxA/w200-h200/uo_1630243187-24677-4.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rafelson with Nicholson<br />and Caine.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson reportedly (<a href="http://www.imagesjournal.com/issue02/reviews/bloodandwine.htm">at least according to one review</a>) said that <i>Blood</i> was the closer in an unofficial “trilogy” of films (along with <i>Five Easy Pieces</i> and <i>King of Marvin Gardens</i>) about dysfunctional families; the problem is that this film is a thriller that moves away from that aspect early on and remains locked in to the whereabouts of the necklace.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The hands-down best scene comes when Davis and Dorff are paralyzed in a car that has flipped over, and Nicholson runs to the car and enters it through the back window — not to rescue them, but to find the necklace. The amorality of his character is beautifully established at this moment, and one wishes the film were as coherently crooked throughout and not just dependent on several coincidences.
(Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/2604552424116" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Poodle Springs</i> (1998), the next feature directed by Rafelson, was another “for hire” affair. It was a well-budgeted HBO production that was adapted by the Robert B. Parker novel of the same title, which was his attempt to write the last Raymond Chandler-Philip Marlowe book (which existed as a few chapters and an outline written by Chandler before his death).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS96EYxdAdAceO37H1GJVLJE6bYO2xVuPRobsm2s-Qc1_Ot2Od76UKu7QT-7amFqlNJxrlrgkbKNpNKL4BNq4GtC87Z0yUmtIwGn_CINGbyBI188azqDr2yt2yN0WBty1G82HgukmmfCCmN5FLhGGkq5cP3Ln8Ry42SPBRHfPpOPJS8goYmAZBXzzVyw/s1170/poster-780.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="780" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS96EYxdAdAceO37H1GJVLJE6bYO2xVuPRobsm2s-Qc1_Ot2Od76UKu7QT-7amFqlNJxrlrgkbKNpNKL4BNq4GtC87Z0yUmtIwGn_CINGbyBI188azqDr2yt2yN0WBty1G82HgukmmfCCmN5FLhGGkq5cP3Ln8Ry42SPBRHfPpOPJS8goYmAZBXzzVyw/w133-h200/poster-780.jpeg" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Set in the early Sixties, it shows us Marlowe (James Caan) married to a socialite (Dina Meyer) and still working as a P.I. As per his past adventures, he tracks a seemingly innocuous small crime and finds behind it a web of corruption. Here, the innocuous crimes involve a bigamist photographer (David Keith) and the web of corruption is controlled by a millionaire (Brian Cox) who wants to “move” a California town into Nevada through redistricting.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The idea here is to depict an older, still confident but more liable to falter, Marlowe, who is also in danger of becoming respectable because of his new wife. The plot contains characters that remind one of previous Chandler creations, especially a psychotic socialite (Julia Campbell) who grew up in the same circles as his wife. Tom Stoppard wrote the script, which seems to be modeled on all the preceding Marlowe films, especially <i>The Big Sleep</i> and the two Chandler adaptations starring Robert Mitchum. It also contains a particularly chipper and especially happy ending, which is depressing coming from the man who gave us <i>Five Easy Pieces</i> and <i>The King of Marvin Gardens</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thus, <i>Poodle Springs</i> is mindless fun for those who just want to see another adventure of the ultimate hardboiled detective. The problem is that Marlowe, as written by Chandler and played by Bogart and Mitchum, was a cut above the average private dick in hardboiled crime fiction. He was a modern knight-errant who had a code of honor and was proud of his detective work (although still capable of falling for the wrong dames over and over).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLEqEfZuYmSe9h7DBtU_Bd3eWJi49BChiSWIDRgoa-6QZBYmB-_Gt7oLaDrqUGFM6OzRqvRkFjsxRN0Ud27X-rRCfm8gYw9IwG8scIIw5RTFKUb5fPVsPkyctgbeGWxSdagxLTlWpsjR-JjUo2DiMAVpyCZ7zHOP8XF8PuiR8Piz1Wq6BkMCA65aBxw/s768/poodle-springs.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="741" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLEqEfZuYmSe9h7DBtU_Bd3eWJi49BChiSWIDRgoa-6QZBYmB-_Gt7oLaDrqUGFM6OzRqvRkFjsxRN0Ud27X-rRCfm8gYw9IwG8scIIw5RTFKUb5fPVsPkyctgbeGWxSdagxLTlWpsjR-JjUo2DiMAVpyCZ7zHOP8XF8PuiR8Piz1Wq6BkMCA65aBxw/w193-h200/poodle-springs.jpeg" width="193" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike Hammer in the<br />guise of Marlowe:<br />James Caan.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For all his seemingly genuine toughness, Caan makes a terrible fit as Marlowe. He has none of the world-weariness that the actors who previously played the detective had (even musical star Dick Powell was a terrific Marlowe in <i>Murder My Sweet</i>). Caan did transcend his tough guy pose and gave some great performances (especially in <i>The Gambler</i>), but he was better suited to play Mike Hammer (the anti-Marlowe — basically a tough-guy detective with no moral code or compunction about killing those whom he deemed to be bad guys, or girls).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film ends with a neat little joke — the ridiculously optimistic finale includes a glimpse at a newspaper in Marlowe’s office that boasts the headline “Kennedy in Dallas.” So, Marlowe’s hopeful future includes the late 1960s, a time when the old-school private eye is no longer needed. (And was unsuccessfully updated in the James Garner <i>Marlowe</i> and completely transformed in Altman’s brilliant <i>The Long Goodbye</i> — a film that had a much clearer outlook on the post-1950s Marlowe than <i>Poodle Springs</i>.)
(Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/2570486483494" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thankfully, Rafelson directed one more feature before he decided to pack it in and retire for good — and it’s a good solid thriller that puts <i>Blood and Wine</i> and <i>Poodle Springs</i> in the shade. <i>No Good Deed</i> (2002) was financed by independent American companies and a German one (and shot in Montreal). It was barely released in theaters and went out of print very quickly on disc. (It can be found on a streaming service, but you’d be putting good cash in Bezos’ pocket.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcr_uXe7iGnQzvriesWtjrL1eL1wZOFNeGfZq5RftKXZuZp6NmH994ZxgjtAfGaq0DSAwOEiIMUTFAb3UDKlfDjIRrwLwRG6gGNvf2LJLHudFb4U1QTjp69umvzC-Ue0nL99_US9y-seVSpW0OgVYGvyBU21uo1OdZ6oOTxWOjdG5gTFF0uSX5_CaJg/s1500/MV5BNGE1OTc2YWUtOTk1MC00ZWViLWJhMTktN2NiYWI3Y2RjODIyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzM4MjM0Nzg@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQcr_uXe7iGnQzvriesWtjrL1eL1wZOFNeGfZq5RftKXZuZp6NmH994ZxgjtAfGaq0DSAwOEiIMUTFAb3UDKlfDjIRrwLwRG6gGNvf2LJLHudFb4U1QTjp69umvzC-Ue0nL99_US9y-seVSpW0OgVYGvyBU21uo1OdZ6oOTxWOjdG5gTFF0uSX5_CaJg/w133-h200/MV5BNGE1OTc2YWUtOTk1MC00ZWViLWJhMTktN2NiYWI3Y2RjODIyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzM4MjM0Nzg@._V1_FMjpg_UX1000_.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film is superior to its two predecessors, with taut scripting making the crazier contrivances of the plot seem plausible. <i>No Good Deed</i> is a chamber piece spun off of a short story by Dashiell Hammett featuring “the Continental Op,” “The House on Turk Street,” by two scripters, Christopher Canaan and Steve Barancik. Perhaps both were responsible for making the film such a model of compact hardboiled storytelling, but one can more easily point to Barancik, as he wrote the memorable Nineties noir <i>The Last Seduction</i> (1994).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The always great Samuel L. Jackson plays a cop with a longing to be a classical cellist — that seems like an odd place to start a movie, but every detail here is compounded and returned to (except the original premise of his searching for a missing person; by the middle you realize the initial premise doesn’t much matter). Jackson promises to help out a friend, and so, while he protests that he works in the grand theft auto division of the police, he agrees to look for her daughter, who has run away with a creepy gentleman.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Because of his charitable demeanor (and the kind of coincidence that often sets the best crime films in motion), he winds up in a house where a group of crooks are planning a bank robbery. He remains tied up for a good deal of the film, but he becomes privy to the entire plan for the heist and the fact that the “black widow” among the bunch, a sexy Russian (curiously named “Erin”) played by Milla Jovovich, has seduced each male member of the group and has made plans with each one to run away with them and all the loot.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Milla also seduces Jackson, since they do have something in common (a shared love of performing classical music), and she understands early on that he is far smarter than at least two of the heist group and is the equal of the remaining one (Stellan Skarsgård), who is the boss of the outfit. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Her seduction of Jackson is presented as a classic meet-cute moment (in which it’s joked about that Jackson is actually free of his bonds for a moment, but he “owes” her for helping him obtain insulin for a diabetic episode he had). The two "play" the cello together, with Sam encircling her and showing her the chords involved in playing a certain piece.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGwFOL9f0farddXu1R2xV_UrYbBCA_Y1iPLGenGSrJE-XIaVhzLOByVaHAF7xGnMce3wfoN-TSI4XzT7yFwUj4KY-maJZmCZsAoxZBeQboInecrb_AuHuhXyx3_WhlzTmGKfMH01t0CpooJBg7V4xM8T5gV1t4hEYlu7QRlib5OOujpnhhK0HEwUWxg/s1920/9423707e724c7f1c9f3aedc3b9ee67ba59ab9b55c0bee5e5eb84c2780f3b5542._RI_V_TTW_.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGwFOL9f0farddXu1R2xV_UrYbBCA_Y1iPLGenGSrJE-XIaVhzLOByVaHAF7xGnMce3wfoN-TSI4XzT7yFwUj4KY-maJZmCZsAoxZBeQboInecrb_AuHuhXyx3_WhlzTmGKfMH01t0CpooJBg7V4xM8T5gV1t4hEYlu7QRlib5OOujpnhhK0HEwUWxg/s320/9423707e724c7f1c9f3aedc3b9ee67ba59ab9b55c0bee5e5eb84c2780f3b5542._RI_V_TTW_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackson, Jovovich.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If the above seems rather far-fetched, it most certainly is, but the film is so well written and acted that its ridiculous twists and turns register as thrilling and not laugh-provoking. The film moves in the third act from the house to the road, with Sam proposing that he, Skarsgård, and Jovovich leave for the Canadian border with the money; during the trip she can make her choice of which gent to stay with. The finale can be pretty easily predicted, but it’s still a great deal of fun watching how Rafelson and co. get to it.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A very small ensemble of performers has central roles here, but thankfully Rafelson’s final film included some scene-stealing supporting performances. Grace Zabriskie and Joss Ackland are the aged couple (quite amorous for their age) who are supposed to fly the crooks to safety after they pull the bank job. Doug Hutchinson ably plays the most brutal (and dumbest) of the crooks, who is a foil to Skarsgård’s character, a refined criminal whose only weakness is (take a guess) Jovovich.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9ONS1Crxx7TaTbxUVm6Q_0SmUlZsvMcOU-Ll-6GQTbdvXDWykITi3qKN4bRHiRvQ9EGlEvtZD3BXr3WqndlYyAX8ePm3eXvFbp_PwM_BEcxi3nVnu_zvwMj7dLsUnLdgvj360wHEkY0g-DbkVL8PQn135rYodoepeUzi1oJNhSnufls3B_hSftt8ew/s650/MV5BNzE5ZGE3OTItOTBmZS00N2E5LWE4MmUtMzk1NGJkYjhiZWU3XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjI0Mjg2NzE@._V1_.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="650" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9ONS1Crxx7TaTbxUVm6Q_0SmUlZsvMcOU-Ll-6GQTbdvXDWykITi3qKN4bRHiRvQ9EGlEvtZD3BXr3WqndlYyAX8ePm3eXvFbp_PwM_BEcxi3nVnu_zvwMj7dLsUnLdgvj360wHEkY0g-DbkVL8PQn135rYodoepeUzi1oJNhSnufls3B_hSftt8ew/s320/MV5BNzE5ZGE3OTItOTBmZS00N2E5LWE4MmUtMzk1NGJkYjhiZWU3XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjI0Mjg2NzE@._V1_.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Jovovich, Skarsgård.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For her part, Milla makes an excellent black widow, ensnaring each man in her web (no matter how dumb or smart he may be). And even wearing an incredible fake-looking “graying” wig, Sam Jackson makes a terrific lead, as a common cop confronted by some very uncommon events.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Those of us who really love Rafelson’s best films can lament the fact that he only made 11 features and retired from filmmaking at the young (for him, certainly) age of 69. But we can count our blessings that he went out on a great note with a well-constructed and suspenseful “small movie” that lingers in the memory.
(Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/310528772734" width="345"></iframe></p><p><i>Thanks to Paul Gallagher and Jon Whitehead of <a href="https://rarefilmm.com/">the Rarefilmm site</a> for help finding some of the films.</i></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-73959301597647609902022-08-01T03:06:00.035-04:002022-08-29T00:33:31.749-04:00Maverick, adventurer, iconoclast: the personal works of Deceased Artiste Bob Rafelson (part 1 of two)<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXoweF3mjayd2F0xmmvUu02jXeE1cyMETMpwnNofXnfK95KTg_uvAPcyZmE0TLAWYZ6L68P6XgzkSpO8bwB3QsVhlnTgu_vo-cKlFNHDPnjGs11Hd18hbnssrZZTvyrcr6kEdA8AtwwJLCKA4WTbTlDo5xK8Xcb5SqYicH7T2o98wulY8OoOKRcaP0Q/s460/Five%20Easy%20Rafelson%20Jack.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="460" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVXoweF3mjayd2F0xmmvUu02jXeE1cyMETMpwnNofXnfK95KTg_uvAPcyZmE0TLAWYZ6L68P6XgzkSpO8bwB3QsVhlnTgu_vo-cKlFNHDPnjGs11Hd18hbnssrZZTvyrcr6kEdA8AtwwJLCKA4WTbTlDo5xK8Xcb5SqYicH7T2o98wulY8OoOKRcaP0Q/w200-h161/Five%20Easy%20Rafelson%20Jack.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rafelson and Nicholson.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If Bob Rafelson had only made his first three films and not done anything else, he still would’ve earned an important place in American cinema as one of the prime movers in the “maverick era” of the 1970s. Instead, he kept working, albeit sporadically, for another three decades and there are eight other films of his to explore.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson’s life story can be found in various places online, particularly in <a href="https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/movies/a26454547/bob-rafelson-interview/">the last major interview he did, for Esquire</a>. A New Yorker by birth (from the Upper West Side) and related (nephew) to playwright/screenwriter Samson Raphaelson (who wrote the <i>Jazz Singer</i> play and many scripts for both Ernst Lubitsch and the MGM musical division), Rafelson’s mini-bios are filled with many stories of him being rebellious and leaving behind situations in which he had to kowtow to authority.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He tried on a number of different jobs until he finally hit the one that suited him best — producing films (including his own) that would be made with no major-studio supervision. But how did he get to that place? By becoming friends with Bert Schneider, whose father Abe ran Columbia Pictures and who was eager to do something interesting within the framework of Screen Gems, Columbia’s TV arm. Rafelson and Schneider incorporated themselves as Raybert Productions and created the Monkees.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOW3La6y6Z8gU08pRMDjG9LTrZbm9GnblYOlhvte1XeszrwQ3N-oV7zZ0DZKPNaj2tFvGJjpH1RMXOAuuvnAAX8tE_vWXMCt-0KKDaZCFL_sFWZRJEYKlHRHkAZ-cRCJr9tx-0MhnA8c6NK4e9oZM2nskB0yvKeulu_qJDHI4_0D8GO7eyO7zJj0kKkA/s909/Young%20Rafelson%20headshot.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="671" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOW3La6y6Z8gU08pRMDjG9LTrZbm9GnblYOlhvte1XeszrwQ3N-oV7zZ0DZKPNaj2tFvGJjpH1RMXOAuuvnAAX8tE_vWXMCt-0KKDaZCFL_sFWZRJEYKlHRHkAZ-cRCJr9tx-0MhnA8c6NK4e9oZM2nskB0yvKeulu_qJDHI4_0D8GO7eyO7zJj0kKkA/w148-h200/Young%20Rafelson%20headshot.png" width="148" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson often noted that he had the idea before <i>Hard Day’s Night</i>, but he and Schneider were obviously able to sell it very easily post-Lester and so, in 1966, “The Monkees” went on the air and became a major cash-cow for all involved. It did well for its first season, but ratings declined in the second season and thus the show was cancelled — by that time, though, the band members and the show’s producers had already decided to blow up the whole concept.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The result was Rafelson’s first film, <i>Head</i> (1968), an insane episodic cornucopia of movie genre parodies starring the Monkees that had as its main plot the band’s desire to “escape.” Rafelson’s friend, the struggling actor-turned-screenwriter Jack Nicholson, wrote the script based on discussions he had with Rafelson and the band members (on hallucinogenics — which is reflected in the film).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Columbia thought <i>Head</i> would be the “third season that never was,” so they backed the film and it tanked. It tanked horribly, but over the years has gathered a cult, thanks to its frantic inventiveness, crazy-quilt construction (including many guest stars, from Annette Funicello to Frank Zappa), and the great score of what might be deemed “acid bubblegum” pop-rock tunes.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwaVL9YCA14IdWdqjRGVHDkhqYbYvigokSAiDB-EmvD-x_1GeR0OX_evcB2sEXxjwjl16RtYH2oxsGGFjJJ0giayK78H0wjr1zkUFSE5x1OTP5qms60lnZWaURGl8WelPwiSj21bdFCjR3RR_B3e61l8QjgU_NHns8kpnUwb7OYjpakhcTa5kGH0AcJA/s610/Head%20Mike%20Jack.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="610" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwaVL9YCA14IdWdqjRGVHDkhqYbYvigokSAiDB-EmvD-x_1GeR0OX_evcB2sEXxjwjl16RtYH2oxsGGFjJJ0giayK78H0wjr1zkUFSE5x1OTP5qms60lnZWaURGl8WelPwiSj21bdFCjR3RR_B3e61l8QjgU_NHns8kpnUwb7OYjpakhcTa5kGH0AcJA/s320/Head%20Mike%20Jack.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Guitarist and screenwriter.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Nowadays it stands as one of the films that reflected an “acid sensibility” that was actually made by people who took acid many times (as opposed to <i>Skidoo</i>, by one-time user Otto Preminger; one-time user Roger Corman produced a better picture, <i>The Trip</i>, also scripted by Nicholson and starring users, including Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper — about whom, more below). <i>Head</i> belligerently declared the Monkees to be a fake creation (“a manufactured image/with no philosophies”), but also showed them off at their best and gave the Raybert duo their first experience in film production.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Whatever it is, <i>Head</i> truly is a wild ride, which viewers either embrace thoroughly or reject. It most certainly is a modernist work, containing all kinds of meta-weirdness, including a scene where Peter Tork’s TV character was dissected by Tork himself, with the help of the director and scripter, who confer with him onscreen (at 35:50).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Q4nT-5DyjX0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe></span></p><p>
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Head</i> was a giant flop, but Rafelson and Schneider still had money left over from the salad days of the Monkees’ TV show. They produced a second feature together, one that jumpstarted for real the “maverick” period that had been signaled by some earlier films (Cassavetes’ first cut of <i>Faces</i>, Richard Lester’s <i>Petulia</i>, and, if you stop and think about it, even <i>2001: A Space Odyssey</i>).</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-hgfJaEspj0-T22t_hDgnat5LCsc4YVaP5ZRobOrHhstZb_6x2mUmLM21HITT70InhOgxVHUbFajFi9acmod5hF9i-B_YY40AnPAU24Tg5srJp_z2SS_zwtTQD0V6NQJrlEufb5HVAgDJ98PZj5SzLDRKhEYYaA2WpUaQ2GbIrf6m1yV3sJLXwqk7w/s1251/Fonda%20Hopper.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="910" data-original-width="1251" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-hgfJaEspj0-T22t_hDgnat5LCsc4YVaP5ZRobOrHhstZb_6x2mUmLM21HITT70InhOgxVHUbFajFi9acmod5hF9i-B_YY40AnPAU24Tg5srJp_z2SS_zwtTQD0V6NQJrlEufb5HVAgDJ98PZj5SzLDRKhEYYaA2WpUaQ2GbIrf6m1yV3sJLXwqk7w/s320/Fonda%20Hopper.png" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />With a $400,000 budget, Raybert produced Dennis Hopper’s <i>Easy Rider</i>, the first film that actually “grabbed” the youth audience that Hollywood had been craving to capture. The fact that the film brought in $60 million at the box office famously sent the major studios scrambling to find more challenging fare that the “liberated” moviegoers of the early Seventies wanted to see — thus began the most important period in Hollywood filmmaking since the 1930s and the post-WWII “boom” in production (which gave us, among many other things, film noir).</span><p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2Tp6S4GfMKK9IsMc3vBApWWxd9vqUkv20deAKBXE3Q5nrrPU05oG1QMXsBgAaLscwd5yXOFwmQ8ZNC5uammWa-4RCbidwvd0nx9fsd9PKBq9Juyve2JcVx5iR62XIVA1i6oE6mqPNKfaURcP42Xq6zfPfS2pygKmBd7dhHx9Eh1llPr2P2B_5FE31Q/s1980/Hopper%20Rafelson%20Jack.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1456" data-original-width="1980" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2Tp6S4GfMKK9IsMc3vBApWWxd9vqUkv20deAKBXE3Q5nrrPU05oG1QMXsBgAaLscwd5yXOFwmQ8ZNC5uammWa-4RCbidwvd0nx9fsd9PKBq9Juyve2JcVx5iR62XIVA1i6oE6mqPNKfaURcP42Xq6zfPfS2pygKmBd7dhHx9Eh1llPr2P2B_5FE31Q/w200-h147/Hopper%20Rafelson%20Jack.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Hopper, Rafelson, Nicholson<br />at Cannes, 1969.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The reason for the film’s success was obvious. Again, it was a drug film made by actual drug users, but it also had a great cast, Hopper drawing from avant-garde films for a bunch of visual techniques, and was a purebred “road movie” that fed into American myths (and the American reality, caught in the film’s closing scene). Plus, it had two secret weapons: the first was <a href="http://mediafunhouse.com/?page_id=205">satirist extraordinaire Terry Southern’s</a> writing in the screenplay (literate scenes like the one around the campfire where Nicholson explains to Fonda and Hopper why short-hairs hate them) and the second was a great musical soundtrack of licensed rock from famous and not-that-famous bands.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson and Schneider didn’t produce the film thinking it would become a cultural touchstone, but it did. Its major success also led to Rafelson and Schneider being able to fund six more films in the next five years, most of them being incredibly low-key character studies that perfectly fit the definition of maverick cinema.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8Gu2ouJNmXc" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">After the success of <i>Easy Rider</i>, Rafelson and Schneider brought on another partner, Steve Blauner, and their company changed its name from Raybert to BBS (for “Bob, Bert, Steve”). Under that moniker the company made seven films, from Rafelson’s <i>Five Easy Pieces</i> (1970) to Peter Davis’ <i>Hearts and Minds</i> (1974).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Five Easy Pieces</i> is often considered Rafelson’s first as a director, and it and its successor (<i>King of Marvin Gardens</i>) clearly defined what a maverick film is. An extremely personal work for Rafelson, his scripter, and star, the film is one of the seminal Seventies character studies. Nicholson, who had been a coy and not all that great actor in his early and mid-Sixties films, suddenly blossomed and became a top-notch actor and a star, while the great supporting players around him moved on from the film to have quite accomplished careers.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUq5r5bzMD2oOTCWDG-jUYVqSgwll1aGXNmg_wsxjIIxgZ6hOYCbRX_SeDxfbANPtoblPpfBz5ZcQonB6hx7HANv9iG3agspcHedINSrBTfV6j0ICOwBKZ4RVl6N2d3_BjGG3da-C-ArIgJyM5oaOrde-fuMVEax5yoGJ0h7ymyMPDrfPMVvpUX6yhQ/s630/Review_385_Photo_6_-_Five_Easy_Pieces_(Bob_Rafelson,_1970)_630_340_90.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="630" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizUq5r5bzMD2oOTCWDG-jUYVqSgwll1aGXNmg_wsxjIIxgZ6hOYCbRX_SeDxfbANPtoblPpfBz5ZcQonB6hx7HANv9iG3agspcHedINSrBTfV6j0ICOwBKZ4RVl6N2d3_BjGG3da-C-ArIgJyM5oaOrde-fuMVEax5yoGJ0h7ymyMPDrfPMVvpUX6yhQ/s320/Review_385_Photo_6_-_Five_Easy_Pieces_(Bob_Rafelson,_1970)_630_340_90.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The quietly moving scene between Bobby<br />(Nicholson) and his stroke-ridden father.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film is a “tough” one, in the sense that Cassavetes’ films were tough (the emotion seeps through, even when the characters are being silent), but it also is beautifully shot, thanks to Rafelson and the incredible Laszlo Kovacs. Nicholson’s character (like a lot of Rafelson heroes, including the Monkees) is looking to escape all constraints and yet still finds himself back in the uncomfortable bosom of his family. Karen Black’s naive country-singer girlfriend is sweet on him, but offers him no way out of his malaise. The existential choice he makes at the end isn’t a true escape — but it will do for the moment.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson attested in interviews to the fact that he was influenced by American masters – Ford, Hawks, Welles – but also a sizable number of foreign filmmakers, including Ozu (whose films he said he translated into English, during the time he was in Japan), Kurosawa, and the French New Wave. While Ozu surely influenced his concentration on quietly-sundered families in <i>Pieces</i> and his subsequent film, the French directors and Antonioni clearly influenced his storytelling style.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Five Easy Pieces</i> wasn’t the first American film to “feel European” because of its slower pacing, but it was certainly a breakthrough, as it became a popular hit. Coppola used “empty” long shots in <i>The Godfather</i> two years later, but Rafelson arrived first at using the sort of “still life” long shot that came to American cinema via filmmakers like Antonioni and Bergman. (And the somewhat sudden ending set in a gas station brings to mind the conclusion of Godard’s <i>Contempt</i>, where Bardot and Palance die in an accident after leaving a gas station.)</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdYoH7TGyvRdufwqrjJfD6VqDRP7Lwi-QG7JyHFRlQNq4u92miZs3hIE_RaF4ZnsHxfQCDbwmEgFkiJTtkpz7lUekSh6ELbDqR7SRPK14SNFBR1LgICRD4RxzqCtcZJDu-fE_WymbK4Voy0owf25OVuiwyjcrw1aDz2rrDML4r-6Oh6HGrl5qwYdJ-g/s1396/Rafelson%20Jack.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="1396" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdYoH7TGyvRdufwqrjJfD6VqDRP7Lwi-QG7JyHFRlQNq4u92miZs3hIE_RaF4ZnsHxfQCDbwmEgFkiJTtkpz7lUekSh6ELbDqR7SRPK14SNFBR1LgICRD4RxzqCtcZJDu-fE_WymbK4Voy0owf25OVuiwyjcrw1aDz2rrDML4r-6Oh6HGrl5qwYdJ-g/s320/Rafelson%20Jack.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jack and Bob.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Also linking the film to European cinema was its star-making turn by Jack Nicholson. In his Seventies prime, Nicholson was often compared to Golden Age studio system stars like Bogart and Spencer Tracy. But the trajectory of his career was similar to those of certain French and Italian stars who had the charisma and allure of classic movie stars, but who also devoted themselves to challenging roles in which they played against type or tried to break free of their “star” persona (think Delon and Mastroianni).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The sole book-length study of Rafelson’s work, <i>Bob Rafelson: Hollywood Maverick</i> by Jay Boyer (Twayne Publishers, New York, 1996), includes this note about Rafelson’s visual style:
“The influence of deep-focus photography is unmistakable in Rafelson’s work. What is foremost in our field of vision — that which we can get at a distance — is often redefined and modified when we look at the middle distance…. It is tempting to speak of composition of one of these shots, but often there is less a sense of formal photographic composition than of detail arranged on a number of visual levels to enhance and define the characters more clearly than what appears in the center of focus. It is as if Rafelson means to remind us that in virtually every situation there is more to be known than what first meets the eye.” [pp. 6-7]</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPw-WXaNOm481qIe4YfaRGm8oOErmq2TsfDWfxZDSOiAUy3x2D18BX1aI2hN1R_SPeylewP3HNJ4Y1cLWxFreU5GjNnBulQuW0FmzlMEAv-BxRZduaFvZ5rugsFyLDNogI53a6o9q0LhoQAUEnBmAkiSL3dVoG6HI9lNNuGDCvucQqO__TJWUVx-iVQ/s547/five-easy-pieces-6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="293" data-original-width="547" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPw-WXaNOm481qIe4YfaRGm8oOErmq2TsfDWfxZDSOiAUy3x2D18BX1aI2hN1R_SPeylewP3HNJ4Y1cLWxFreU5GjNnBulQuW0FmzlMEAv-BxRZduaFvZ5rugsFyLDNogI53a6o9q0LhoQAUEnBmAkiSL3dVoG6HI9lNNuGDCvucQqO__TJWUVx-iVQ/s320/five-easy-pieces-6.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The fact that <i>Five Easy Pieces</i> was not only a critical hit but also made money at the box office points to how special the maverick period was. One needn’t belabor the comparison with today’s “tentpole”-oriented Hollywood production line, but it is true that the maverick period was the point where American cinema reached its maturity and was able to benefit from the easing of the Production Code and also the interest in making films that would attract adult viewers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One important thing to remember about the film is that this sublime portrait of a nearly-middle-aged man in crisis was written by a woman. Carole Eastman used the pen name “Adrien Joyce” and became the first woman to write a film that reflected the new values in Hollywood filmmaking. (Barbara Loden scripted her own <i>Wanda</i>, but it was independently financed, a la Cassavetes.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I’ve spoken to people who feel conflicted about loving the maverick era because they are good liberals and wish that there had been more representation of women and people in color in the films. Well, there WERE very important women and people of color, both in front of and behind the camera in the maverick era and while, yes, the directors were in most instances straight white males, pioneering figures like Eastman who worked on these films made that era even richer.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIcPz1BVYBxjUuVi2D1cfIQfmjTwFRio8WfNmSwWCwZee53KHBZgsqoy80NS7CkJ3EVwgMV0dmXCgqAPy6I3NBjAE0ilJ9Sp9ag_SnrXXeRVfTkiWgZ8tLxg_8648E9N6LJ_MF9f8PtIUgTLmk6bd1kg96b9Ojsz6HkaI-x2GdYTXS1FuHX-KQDDiOA/s1000/Carole%20Eastman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1000" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIcPz1BVYBxjUuVi2D1cfIQfmjTwFRio8WfNmSwWCwZee53KHBZgsqoy80NS7CkJ3EVwgMV0dmXCgqAPy6I3NBjAE0ilJ9Sp9ag_SnrXXeRVfTkiWgZ8tLxg_8648E9N6LJ_MF9f8PtIUgTLmk6bd1kg96b9Ojsz6HkaI-x2GdYTXS1FuHX-KQDDiOA/s320/Carole%20Eastman.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Carole Eastman.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rafelson often emphasized that, while he came up with the original story, the script he shot was entirely Eastman’s, except for the famous scene set in a diner, which was conceived by him and embellished by Eastman, who had seen Nicholson “clear the table” once when angry at a cafeteria.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Eastman’s sharp scripting can also be found in the 1966 Monte Hellman existential Western <i>The Shooting</i> (1966) starring Nicholson and Millie Perkins, and Jerry Schatzberg’s <i>Puzzle of a Downfall Child</i> (1970), but is sadly not in evidence in Mike Nichols’ messy <i>The Fortune</i> (1975) and Rafelson’s later <i>Man Trouble</i> (1992).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6wtfNE4z6a8" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">While he was working as a filmmaker himself, Rafelson was also producing films for other directors as part of BBS. He, Schneider, and Blauner gave carte blanche (as long as they stayed within a very strict budget) to: Peter Bogdanovich, for his first bigger-budgeted pic (outside the realm of Corman), <i>The Last Picture Show</i>; Henry Jaglom, for his debut feature, <i>A Safe Place</i>; documentarian Peter Davis to make <i>Hearts and Minds</i>; and to BBS' premier actor, Jack Nicholson, to make his directorial debut with <i>Drive, He Said</i>.<br /><br />Rafelson’s third film as a director is one of those films I've watched over and over again. <i>King of Marvin Gardens</i> (1972) is a brilliantly literate and quietly emotional picture that is by turns somber, very funny, and heartbreaking.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAfm7-VL1UEpAa1jGi1wguY6hzIekxa9FD3KM0drUNJ08D5MuexeBddqOCB-fj_PrO5zv6Ms_7RZnjHOomWPm0q7Yx50i8UBtDJ_ALmQ8TXxoHC9P-HqbN9SX8sQRoapCfvDfQzA-61MY8ZhxE5j5mBMoQ1jsIr37apkObLGFYFrQECHa1pdd1jWqDQ/s1536/King%20of%20Marvin%20poster.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuAfm7-VL1UEpAa1jGi1wguY6hzIekxa9FD3KM0drUNJ08D5MuexeBddqOCB-fj_PrO5zv6Ms_7RZnjHOomWPm0q7Yx50i8UBtDJ_ALmQ8TXxoHC9P-HqbN9SX8sQRoapCfvDfQzA-61MY8ZhxE5j5mBMoQ1jsIr37apkObLGFYFrQECHa1pdd1jWqDQ/w130-h200/King%20of%20Marvin%20poster.jpg" width="130" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s a perfect creation to show off just how mature and sophisticated the maverick directors could be (with budgets provided by major studios!). Nicholson and Bruce Dern star as very opposite brothers (Dern is the alpha one in this configuration) who might be able to fulfill their childhood dream — to own an island. Dern has a plan to get such a property, but it involves gangsters and he’s not as savvy as he pretends to be. The women (again, women transforming material that could be seen as male-centric) who are witness to the brothers’ reunion in a crumbling Atlantic City are a younger woman (Julia Anne Robinson) and an aging beauty queen, played by Ellen Burstyn, who has several bravura scenes in the picture.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I interviewed the film’s scripter, Jacob Brackman, on the Funhouse TV show and <a href="https://youtu.be/0GmVTXkl9ZE">got him to talk at length about <i>Marvin Gardens</i></a>. It is interesting to note that Brackman hasn’t ever been a novelist. (He mentioned having had a story or two published in magazines, but noted that fiction was never his focus.) The film has the feel of a novel, though, in that it concentrates on character and dialogue to spell out the back story of the characters, and also has an allegorical level (about that old favorite topic, the death of the American Dream) – although it should be stressed that it is a vibrant work that isn’t the kind of “literary” film that could bore one to tears.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In our interview, Brackman had noted that he stayed with his grandparents in Atlantic City when he was a child, thus providing the setting for the story of the two brothers' reunion. I asked about Nicholson’s unique profession in the film — radio monologist — and Brackman said his reference point for this was not Jean Shepherd nor any of the late Sixties “free-form” FM radio personalities, but rather Jonathan Schwartz, the WNEW DJ famous for his journeys into the Sinatra discography (who did indeed, at one point when he was on FM radio, tell stories on-air). Rafelson stresses in interviews that this aspect sprang from his having done monologues on the radio when he was in the Army in Japan — when he should’ve been playing records, young Bob would go off on tangents and talk for long periods of time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmfBXOCswQaLePCQ_pwMXirt3sLQ4jfjiRr7WbDdEsDd9Syf42ybH0yWS4AkP906qqJ4gqutUOJjS3QEckKLmGwv5apL-0dE-s7c8G6n6Sw8BnlPD-iByLZ25kiiEfQD5qCEAA6bbUNG3O2FfvR4k_cc-q_yBPx5Z7Ypg_bgdvfUKF1CJfc6nRAudsA/s1920/King%20of%20Marvin%20Gardens%20horses.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmfBXOCswQaLePCQ_pwMXirt3sLQ4jfjiRr7WbDdEsDd9Syf42ybH0yWS4AkP906qqJ4gqutUOJjS3QEckKLmGwv5apL-0dE-s7c8G6n6Sw8BnlPD-iByLZ25kiiEfQD5qCEAA6bbUNG3O2FfvR4k_cc-q_yBPx5Z7Ypg_bgdvfUKF1CJfc6nRAudsA/s320/King%20of%20Marvin%20Gardens%20horses.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></i></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i><br />Marvin Gardens</i> continues the low-key style that Rafelson introduced in <i>Five Easy Pieces</i>. There is no musical soundtrack – music is only heard when it is being played in a given setting. The film also continued Rafelson’s infatuation with atmospheric long shots. Here, the dilapidated state that Atlantic City was in at the time lent itself to some very evocative images, underscoring the ultimate emptiness of the promises offered by the Dern character.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film is a sublime vehicle for its three stars. Burstyn sketches a character who is incredibly realistic and sadly relatable. Dern channels all of his energetic, con-man charm into his part. And Nicholson is unforgettable in his turn as the quieter, more inactive brother, who crafts his monologues so they contain all the action and emotion that his life lacks.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOhKB_jj2rOFfuoehucgyy5w80J8E44GCjTXiJLJiyJ17bqAVY9S_qkEd98Yk9Evb-G0dgPa9S0DYKGb7b86Z4AzTTrO1Hp1An7kmfmzjyEZS6AguAEReD_4bwC7v8Y2PzrhTZnjW8uixBmkYIOuWJ_TqOIqUiib_QLFQauCTJbeWYsWT8xktowgBHQ/s1280/King%20of%20Marvin%20Dern%20yells.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="1280" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheOhKB_jj2rOFfuoehucgyy5w80J8E44GCjTXiJLJiyJ17bqAVY9S_qkEd98Yk9Evb-G0dgPa9S0DYKGb7b86Z4AzTTrO1Hp1An7kmfmzjyEZS6AguAEReD_4bwC7v8Y2PzrhTZnjW8uixBmkYIOuWJ_TqOIqUiib_QLFQauCTJbeWYsWT8xktowgBHQ/s320/King%20of%20Marvin%20Dern%20yells.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />On the whole, <i>Marvin Gardens</i> is indeed a perfect model of the maverick films that were made with major-studio money in the post-<i>Easy Rider</i> period, which ended with the successes of <i>Jaws</i> and <i>Star Wars</i>, although maverick films kept coming out until the beginning of the Eighties. (Nearly all of them distributed by United Artists, from big maverick works like <i>Apocalypse Now</i> and <i>Raging Bull</i> to smaller gems like <i>Chilly Scenes of Winter</i> and <i>Cutter’s Way</i>.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Marvin Gardens</i> has one of the most perfect beginnings, with Nicholson recounting a tale of the time he and his brother witnessed their grandfather choking on food and didn’t help him, until the old man croaked. The story is beautifully told by Nicholson, but we shortly thereafter learn that Nicholson’s character lives in Philadelphia with his grandfather, and so the story is just as fake as Dern’s promises end up being.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/r-T_4IAl_Yo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">After the dissolution of BBS, Rafelson’s output was spottier. This was due to both the difficulty of getting personal movies made after 1975 and his own interest in traveling around the world. Read any decent interview with the man and you find that he prized travel and exposure to new cultures as highly as he did filmmaking. Thus, after he hit 40, there were only eight more films in the next three decades, and then he retired.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most interesting thing about his post-BBS output is that so much of it had to do with crime. Of his eight non-indie features, five were crime pics that could either be classified as hard-boiled or noir to some degree. According to Boyer’s book, Rafelson had “little regard” [p. 19] for the film noir cycle in America, which is fascinating, given that he drifted back to the stuff of noir so often.</span></p><p><span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: helvetica; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="790" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wLY0WkHaIV4JpXQVmdbJ4evbEWTmRqtq2Ic-MaWXc_0FEi_gClqeAlJRPnuVexK5AAh4gIsa_WOdiuzuo4CYpFx2BRWd1atfBKZsaw9QxIX1jA8UOqqWOx3ygRLnZxakMB1OhB_Pyzq4egTf8bK8DqwWI1YZ-jdM9leWHI489kLy4koS6pUu1KBurQ/w131-h200/Stay%20Hungry%20poster.jpg" width="131" /></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Of the other three post-BBS films, one was his return to personal filmmaking but in a very different genre than the low-key character studies he made in the early Seventies. (The adventure/drama <i>Mountains of the Moon</i> in 1990.) The two films that seem out of step with his other work are his two post-Monkees comedies, <i>Stay Hungry</i> (1976) and <i>Man Trouble</i> (1992).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The former is interesting to watch and has some amusing moments (plus a great cast), but mostly it is a bid for eccentric comedy that fails. This is intriguing, given that Rafelson helped co-create the funny and at times radically different-for-its-era </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Monkees</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> TV series. But that series was the result of several peoples’ work, and it had a clear blueprint in the mid-Sixties work of Richard Lester.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Stay Hungry</i> aims to superimpose one subculture (bodybuilding competitions) over another (the wealthy enclaves of the American South). Jeff Bridges plays an heir to a fortune who is assigned by his family’s company to chum up to a gym owner, buy his business, and then have it bulldozed under. Sally Field also stars, in what could be called her first adult role (and certainly her first theatrical film, since she stars here and had only a very small role in the 1967 Western <i>The Way West</i>). Also, making his “legit” acting debut (since most folks, including the actor/later governor, like to discount <i>Hercules in New York</i>, where his voice is dubbed in English) is Arnold Schwarzenegger as (guess what) an ambitious Austrian bodybuilder.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgex26Uq2CnjGWrTpkUcN91p0fQAwZxGUqZ48vR5FTLbtQX2KRby9qKhB02tYjBk1U2S0ncSm2A5lVTO1X9k355tjUQQ0QKTU6O_E2mkG6DRPziI2RH2m_Af8MJdDG5Ue9K0z1goxGjTvr0Y6D3Wsn22wRszQde-k83KI1Dt1r8y2mJWPPpuF11wSWmGg/s3000/Stay%20Hungry%20Arnold%20Sally.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2399" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgex26Uq2CnjGWrTpkUcN91p0fQAwZxGUqZ48vR5FTLbtQX2KRby9qKhB02tYjBk1U2S0ncSm2A5lVTO1X9k355tjUQQ0QKTU6O_E2mkG6DRPziI2RH2m_Af8MJdDG5Ue9K0z1goxGjTvr0Y6D3Wsn22wRszQde-k83KI1Dt1r8y2mJWPPpuF11wSWmGg/w160-h200/Stay%20Hungry%20Arnold%20Sally.jpeg" width="160" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The three leads are all inherently likable, with Schwarzenegger’s role being created for him, as the author of the novel that the film is based on (who also coscripted) was Charles Gaines, who wrote the book that the documentary <i>Pumping Iron</i> was based on. (That doc was released in ’77 but was shot in ’75.) In one of the longest scenes in <i>Stay Hungry</i>, Arnold is in fact more likable than Bridges, who is drunk at a high-society party at his family house and being condescending to both Field and Arnold, while the latter plays it humble and smart (saving his money from the competitions and remaining loyal to his new American friends).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Supporting the leads is a nice ensemble of supporting players — one thing Rafelson did in every genre was to assemble a great supporting cast. Here, R.G. Armstrong, Robert Englund, BBS regular Helena Kallianiotes, Fannie Flagg, and Scatman Crothers do nice little turns, but still the central culture-clash doesn’t rate as either satirical enough or goofy enough to justify the raucous pace and the attempt to create a Seventies screwball comedy. (Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the full film.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="autoplay" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="//ok.ru/videoembed/227329116909" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One need only consider that, a year before <i>Stay Hungry</i>, Robert Altman’s <i>Nashville</i> was released. There, Southern culture and the country music industry were satirized brilliantly, as Altman continued on in a fashion that he had debuted in 1969 with <i>M*A*S*H</i> (but which crystallized perfectly in the very eccentric 1970 comedy <i>Brewster McCloud</i>). As brilliant a filmmaker as Rafelson was, he was not in the same category as Altman (or Michael Ritchie, for that matter) in terms of satirizing American obsessions and odd behavior.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The late Seventies were a turning point in Rafelson’s career. He tried for two years to get an adaptation of the novel <i>At Play in the Fields of the Lord</i> underway, unsuccessfully. His next project was even more frustrating. He was recruited to direct <i>Brubaker</i> with Robert Redford and did a year’s worth of research into prisons in America before the start of the film. After 10 days of shooting he was taken off the film because he reportedly had a physical encounter (of the violent kind) with a studio executive.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">These two incidents, and the box-office failure of <i>Marvin Gardens</i> and <i>Stay Hungry</i>, left Rafelson a nearly forgotten figure from Hollywood’s recent past as the Eighties came into view. It took his friend Jack bringing him back into the picture to get Rafelson’s career rolling once again — but from this point on, Rafelson was more of a hired hand on the films he directed (save <i>Mountains of the Moon</i>). He still did research and worked with his scripters before a foot of film was shot, but his days of making highly personal features effectively stopped in 1972 with <i>Marvin Gardens</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">To be continued...</span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-46616786308243377322022-07-15T16:07:00.044-04:002022-07-15T21:34:40.961-04:00Welcome to America, Little Big!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWzsZbFchrEzrasiz28lGnxyKWsIQJa3hhh-vHdrkhTI0VfhThS-8l1VIhFpXG4wOtD9RnYckTldJP-d_vtVSZjB5RSYrToxH2OzK3v60BSiwPOBD5maNt1qY0Wwrn_Rf9CIkqGNDLmwEwKngBoSDc7gNuW-Osfji4i85kErkk0fDgK2mxh8QRU_Jyg/s870/Ilya%20and%20Sonya.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="870" height="92" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXWzsZbFchrEzrasiz28lGnxyKWsIQJa3hhh-vHdrkhTI0VfhThS-8l1VIhFpXG4wOtD9RnYckTldJP-d_vtVSZjB5RSYrToxH2OzK3v60BSiwPOBD5maNt1qY0Wwrn_Rf9CIkqGNDLmwEwKngBoSDc7gNuW-Osfji4i85kErkk0fDgK2mxh8QRU_Jyg/w200-h92/Ilya%20and%20Sonya.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>I grew up revering the humorous music that was played on the Dr. Demento show <span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">—</span> Spike Jones was and remains the king of all that, but there were many others, from those devoted to the craft (Lehrer, Allan Sherman, Ray Stevens, and then Weird Al) to those who only recorded one funny song or a smattering of ’em. Funny music videos entered the picture much later on (although the visualizations of Spike’s work in vintage movie clips and on his television show blazed the trail for that specific visual niche).<p></p><p>Thus, I have loved the music videos of the Russian dance-rave-punk-cartoon-satire group Little Big from the first time I saw the viral music-video (621 million views so far on YouTube alone) for their nonsense song “Skibidi.” I encountered it in late 2018, and since that time I’ve regularly checked back to their channel to see if they’ve produced another music-vid. The videos, directed by Alina Pasok with the assistance of the male lead singer and songwriter Ilya Prusikin, have embellished the songs (catchy melodies with nonsense lyrics) with indelibly silly imagery.</p><p>I noticed that the band “disappeared” from YouTube (read: no new material) the moment Russia invaded Ukraine. Little Big have a big following in Europe and over here in the U.S., but it probably was just too difficult to create catchy music and memorably weird images when a war started by their country was raging. I hoped they would return in some fashion and was recently surprised to find that they have come up with a song and an accompanying video that are resolutely anti-war and that the lead singers, Ilya and Sonya Tayurskaya, have relocated to the U.S. (in Los Angeles).</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFNQ3vf_IVyOMkCzts66Rz1uV0zTrIdr6wI7IZz-0zyOWj5jcPI0yOWoKIJVDKObvkmthbtrv3Bhk6q6QKgGQ-awWVyn1DHRb5Jc53bHrvtqcs86aLy6oVvbBPsgdCVgIrJBB_y75vZ8PiCQMz5CerZ6WYcAXgU4kJRkPIi72sVLKvZL1WNSNoURYNAQ/s1024/Little-Big5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1024" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFNQ3vf_IVyOMkCzts66Rz1uV0zTrIdr6wI7IZz-0zyOWj5jcPI0yOWoKIJVDKObvkmthbtrv3Bhk6q6QKgGQ-awWVyn1DHRb5Jc53bHrvtqcs86aLy6oVvbBPsgdCVgIrJBB_y75vZ8PiCQMz5CerZ6WYcAXgU4kJRkPIi72sVLKvZL1WNSNoURYNAQ/s320/Little-Big5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />It has been noted that only Ilya and Sonya have relocated to L.A. but that they “hope” the other two members will join them. Nothing has been mentioned about music-video director Alina Pasok, who really is the fifth non-musical-but-incredibly-important member of the group, for sure. The songs and videos also wouldn’t be the same without Sergey "Gokk" Makarov as the group’s DJ and Anton "Boo" Lissov on guitar (more commonly known as “the weird guy with the black makeup on his mouth”).<p></p><p>I’ll also miss the very, very Russian “types” of actors who played the smaller characters in their music videos, but I have hopes that their music will remain as light-hearted and goddamned unforgettable as it has been over the last four years. If Ilya (and Pasok) are still behind the music videos, they will most certainly be worth watching.</p><p>And so, here is their latest offering, the hardcore anti-war tune “Generation Cancellation.” Ilya’s vocal here does seem to have a hint of Trent Reznor in his finest Nineties angst. Sonya only appears at the end of the video and looks quite a bit different than she had in the preceding videos.</p><p>As a New Yorker, I’m of course wary of what could happen to very creative artists from other countries landing in Los Angeles, but hopefully Little Big won’t be unduly affected by the numbing effects of the California sun. (And the U.S. economy, which is currently crashing and certain to crash even further.)</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7Yy4RP4FMNk" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>The comments below the video on YT are mostly positive, praising the band for taking a stand against war. However, one critic – <a href="https://youtu.be/fVq1xqxddH4">a gent in Toronto who posts videos in Russian</a> — noted that the images in the video were too tame in their critique and that Little Big wound up criticizing Western governments as well as Russia. I’m guessing that he is wanting them to condemn Russia unconditionally. </p><p>Little Big, it should be noted, isn't new to criticizing warmongering. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBnAZnfNB6U">Here is their video "Lollybomb," which depicts a certain North Korean dictator having a love affair with his nuclear bomb.</a></p><p>The answers to the criticisms above are pretty apparent. a.) Sonya and Ilya have friends (and bandmates!) back in the Mother Country, so it would be stupid of them to solely trash Russia and incur the government’s wrath on their loved ones. Oh, and b.) Western governments have provoked wars in the past, and it’s pretty plain that the Ukraine conflict has turned into what is called “a proxy war” (think Korea and Vietnam, but in a much more grievous iteration) between the Russia and the U.S.</p><p><a href="https://wiwibloggs.com/2022/06/24/little-big-criticise-russia-war-in-ukraine-generation-cancellation/272827/"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADpxEYUh9IDUyJ2o1VZEkdMSVbnH3uYGtTh0qzvYeJIZrQQt3qR-BqrvS2ctdqY8CqwQQlk-m9Uvw4_dboJS7ICA9nWIlHSi9kCM--uFW_QKE1QKfzeG8el55Yq5NxE2XWg9DoawqfMqeoxeogvHXodYcvRCG7Salif51b--znF21AoK8lusPtmfjgg/s800/No%20war.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADpxEYUh9IDUyJ2o1VZEkdMSVbnH3uYGtTh0qzvYeJIZrQQt3qR-BqrvS2ctdqY8CqwQQlk-m9Uvw4_dboJS7ICA9nWIlHSi9kCM--uFW_QKE1QKfzeG8el55Yq5NxE2XWg9DoawqfMqeoxeogvHXodYcvRCG7Salif51b--znF21AoK8lusPtmfjgg/s320/No%20war.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://wiwibloggs.com/2022/06/24/little-big-criticise-russia-war-in-ukraine-generation-cancellation/272827/">The Eurovision news site wiwibloggs included this translation of a Russian news story about the group:</a><p></p><p>Little Big — Russia’s Eurovision 2020 act — have explicitly come out against the war in Ukraine with their new single “Generation Cancellation.” Writing in the description of the music video, they say: “War is not over. Stop war in Ukraine. Stop wars worldwide. No one deserves war.”</p><p>[...]</p><p>In a statement, quoted by Newsweek, the band’s frontman Ilya Prusikin said: “We adore our country, but we completely disagree with the war in Ukraine. Moreover, we believe that any war is unacceptable.”</p><p>“We condemn the actions of the Russian government, and we are so disgusted by the Russian military propaganda machine that we decided to drop everything and leave the country.”</p><p>An update: As I was writing this piece, Ilya and Sonya were interviewed on BBC television and NBC (print only). The BBC piece has them saying they oppose war in general and received requests to take down an anti-war post they put up on Instagram when the invasion of Ukraine took place. They say they won’t be returning to their home country until Putin leaves office.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A3kZfLeEqvs" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>The NBC article contains no video, just quotes from Ilya given in an interview with an NBC reporter on Zoom. In the piece he discusses why he left and won’t be going back, despite loving Russia. Most importantly for fans of the band, it is noted that Ilya and Sonya “hope that the band’s two other members, who have for now stayed in Russia, can join them in California soon.”</p><p>So, to salute Little Big for their Big-ass Adventure across the seas and for their past videos, which have given me no end of pleasure, let me embed just a few favorites here. Each one of these videos has gotten several million views.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKy-AZbj-JwyxhJ-6GwJrbKlJxV3RsMV6GOoPxQ4AE-xj6LR5XLXeF0WNcMYa_k908jD_URsWu5uDqoxUcnZSnzq3p8WRGB-60eJ71uvjbRykD8s4TxuCOihNnzJC5UPlQ6qoks3uWU6VAQb66o-VOjCZhEmk0lRggFVZtWslfdSqcXF5hmLFos0D7iw/s1024/wsi-imageoptim-little-big-1024x678.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="1024" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKy-AZbj-JwyxhJ-6GwJrbKlJxV3RsMV6GOoPxQ4AE-xj6LR5XLXeF0WNcMYa_k908jD_URsWu5uDqoxUcnZSnzq3p8WRGB-60eJ71uvjbRykD8s4TxuCOihNnzJC5UPlQ6qoks3uWU6VAQb66o-VOjCZhEmk0lRggFVZtWslfdSqcXF5hmLFos0D7iw/s320/wsi-imageoptim-little-big-1024x678.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The very first LB video was “Everyday I’m Drinking” in 2013. The group was reportedly created for the video and then actually became a real functioning band. There were two little-person women, Olympia Ivleva and Anna Kast, on vocals with Ilya. Thus, a “little/big” group was born.<p></p><p>This video shows both their love of their homeland and their pretty sizable longing to make fun of it. Thus, we have all the usual symbols — vodka, Russian dancing, traditional costumes, and oh yeah, a bear. The band may be more of a “dance” band these days, but when it began it was more hardcore, playing thrash (counterpointing a traditional Russian melody here). Ilya’s lyrics also harkened back to the heyday of punk — as he notes here he drinks everyday because there’s “no future.”</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QrU1hZxSEXQ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>By 2016-17, the group had shifted its sound almost entirely to EDM, and they started coming up with anthemic tunes that were definitely written to make the listener laugh as they danced (as with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i63cgUeSsY0">“Big Dick”</a>). Alina Pasok’s videos also started to become more elaborate affairs with trick visuals, odd juxtapositions, and memorably weird imagery, as with this paean to women who really are very pissed off with their men.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6od76UNHt-M" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>Ilya has primarily written the band’s hits in English <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;">—</span> except for the few written in gibberish (more below) and in elementary Spanish. “Faradenza” is an example of his nonsense writing. The lyrics seem to be in a sort-of Spanish, but English words and “konichiwa” slide in as well.</p><p>This 2018 music video was the definite turning point. From then to now, Little Big’s videos have been elaborate productions that are utterly ridiculous and wonderfully funny. Here Ilya plays a playboy sexbomb entrancing the senior women at a spa. The Little Big that fans outside of Russia know began here.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1t_sMynan_k" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>In late 2018, the band’s craziest video to date went viral in a big way (again, 621 million views to date). The lyrics are all nonsense (but that <a href="https://www.insideedition.com/skibidi-why-you-cant-help-dance-insanely-catchy-song-russian-band-little-big-47735">didn’t stop people from consulting those who speak Russian asking them to translate them</a>). The video, however, was carefully planned by Pasok and Ilya, so that every new scene is a bit more absurd than the last.</p><p>Romance, shopping, seduction, a street gang dance-off, talking animals, and a cartoonlike robotic dance that became a fad for a while. “Skibidi” has it all — and that includes Godzilla (or a reasonable facsimile thereof).</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mDFBTdToRmw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>A lot of bands would’ve been content to simply rip off their viral video with a similar song and a similar-looking video. Little Big instead did the most absurd thing possible: They rerecorded the song as a ballad, and Alina and Ilya directed a music video that contains every goddamned romantic cliché that had been seen in the early days of music videos.</p><p>The “romantic version” of “Skibidi” is thus even sillier than the original. And it continues the “saga” begun in the first video, with Sonya losing Ilya to her rival, Godzilla. This is ridiculousness that transcends borders and language. It it straight-faced lunacy of the finest kind.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EqSclLcbvCA" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>The next move in the Little Big march of absurdity was a song written in simple English that was accompanied by a video with a clear intention — to show every idiotic person one could possibly find in a bar. Ilya and Sonya are the main culprits, but there’s a great gallery of Russian faces here, with each party explaining to us that no, “I’m not alcoholic!”</p><p>It’s one of the few Little Big videos that takes place in the real world, the kind of world that you and I live in. And it actually makes unregenerate hard-drinking sots into charming-seeming people. (In real life? Not so much…) It’s the Little Big video that separates the men and women from the boys and girls — if you like this one, you’re sure to get stuck on their music-vids and actually (like me) await their next assault on sanity.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SsFI40bXROs" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>The group returned to “Skibidi”-style jovial strangeness with “Go Bananas,” which barely has lyrics (Ilya just wants us to know he is “the banana man!”), but the video contains every cheap joke you can think of (rubber chickens, pies in the face, food as musical instruments). And yet the vid moves beyond the purely shticky into the world of the surreal and intentionally idiotic. The melody is catchy as hell, the action is fast and furiously idiotic, and it’s just great.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ADlGkXAz1D0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>Back to an actual plotline of sorts. “Hypnodancer” has the band committing high-stakes capers thanks to Ilya’s hypnotizing dancing moves. There’s no explanation needed.</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RhMYBfF7-hE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>To illustrate how deeply I fell down the Little Big rabbit-hole, here is one of the most fun variety specials that they took part in, a New Years Eve farewell to the horrid year of 2020 (which they had made fun of in their delightfully caustic Xmas single/music-vid, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tThYxp5kmk">“Suck My Dick 2020”</a>) done in the form of an Italian musical variety show.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEV3ZgvYC--0NxvtM7Um_F0boSSg_j1HqdoH-Jo5tKn5llBh3AZaR-fxbMzqvRKAErX5bVHpeTG8GMHLqGY7k1KwlFDSKC5NIcMXXo3hF87e32HqYf0UMAYDvt_LwIKgvxKCAKFnSUOMCUaMviBNUIm31YpfK8QiDW65iq8FcLq84Y-QXH7emugNZpw/s1200/a4082077903_10.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEV3ZgvYC--0NxvtM7Um_F0boSSg_j1HqdoH-Jo5tKn5llBh3AZaR-fxbMzqvRKAErX5bVHpeTG8GMHLqGY7k1KwlFDSKC5NIcMXXo3hF87e32HqYf0UMAYDvt_LwIKgvxKCAKFnSUOMCUaMviBNUIm31YpfK8QiDW65iq8FcLq84Y-QXH7emugNZpw/w200-h200/a4082077903_10.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The whole show is a wonderfully detailed sendup of Italian entertainment from the Seventies and Eighties, with all the participants speaking in Italian for the duration and covering old hits. I can’t imagine an American comedy-music show that would get this deep into the joke (especially since Americans never learn a word of other languages).<p></p><p>“Piccolo Grandi” (as they were known for this show) covered the song “Mamma Maria,” a 1982 hit by the Italian group Ricchi e Poveri. Their performance is both faithful to the original and to their own style (especially with the crazy-ass dancing toward the end). They appear at 37:42. (Ilya “smoking” a pencil is a reference to the “Hypnodancer” video – and perhaps a stricture of Russian TV that people shouldn’t be seen smoking, as exists in the U.S. these days).</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tI3uxqT7otA" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>And while their Eurovision song (for the Eurovision that never was, in 2020) <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_dWvTCdDQ4">“Uno”</a> and <a href="https://youtu.be/nUwTnJ8yFXY">their paean to ethnic food, “Tacos”</a> are both entertaining, I’ll close out here with another one of those Little Big music-vids that shows an upside-down world, “Moustache.” The song and music video pay tribute to hirsute women (who have carefully groomed 'staches).</p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9JOyTf1q6gE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </p><p>A perfect way to close out this survey of Little Big’s catchy-and-crazy music-videos. I welcome them to our country with open arms, in the hope that they will NEVER become normal. (And/or have guest star cameos in their videos from former SNL stars or other purveyors of substandard American mainstream comedy.) Please, Ilya, Sonya (and Anton and Sergey, and hopefully Alina), stay very, very weird.</p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-62753278609012802492022-06-03T23:07:00.013-04:002022-06-03T23:39:38.852-04:00Fassbinder's 77th birthday, part 3 — the Fassbinder doc ‘Wizard of Babylon’ finally reappears (with English subtitles!)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7rwoJ-JflEn9GjvtWY5uqTTiykLEkG3slmbSHEyhx9Gu-RWWpUVO75ExJ_vrFBe1bAGuIbGbaSo_xtjZtxsvcAZ0X3PGNQT8GSQNGQiaure9PLTedA3Jy0WQpEkLWkMMA7p0NSy_tY2w8P0dnX6R1pyAT8FPxRRfFQKPkA2Bru5lMq9O7lXjcW9jTA/s292/FassbinderThumb.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="292" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7rwoJ-JflEn9GjvtWY5uqTTiykLEkG3slmbSHEyhx9Gu-RWWpUVO75ExJ_vrFBe1bAGuIbGbaSo_xtjZtxsvcAZ0X3PGNQT8GSQNGQiaure9PLTedA3Jy0WQpEkLWkMMA7p0NSy_tY2w8P0dnX6R1pyAT8FPxRRfFQKPkA2Bru5lMq9O7lXjcW9jTA/w200-h141/FassbinderThumb.jpeg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In my last blog entry I noted that there are certain films concerning Rainer Werner Fassbinder that are impossible to find with English subtitles. I’ve learned in the time since I put that post up that some of those films are indeed “on the underside of the Net” with English subtitle files (mostly fan-generated); however, a number of them are still “MIA” as far as subtitles go. However, Jon Whitehead, webmaster and mastermind of the incredible resource <a href="https://rarefilmm.com/">Rarefilmm</a>, has now unleashed a wonderful gift for English-speaking, non-German-understanding Fassbinder fanatics in this period between the 77th anniversary of RWF’s birth (May 31) and the 40th anniversary of his death (June 10).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I concluded my last post with a link to the otherwise unseeable <i>The Wizard of Babylon</i>, the 1982 doc by Dieter Schidor, without English subtitles on YouTube. That film was initially distributed by New Yorker Films in the early Eighties and then — poof! — it was gone. Out of distribution, utterly impossible to find. It was SO difficult to lay hands on a copy that I was amazed it was shown again at the Walter Reade Theater in Lincoln Center in November of 2014 as part of an RWF festival. That print, I learned upon attending the screening, was a copy from Australia owned by a university. So, seemingly, that particular copy was the only one available anywhere with English subtitles. Until now.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCNaCj5MQAaQrBMFBWo6jv6xKBAIWETVsMeEqnTC4VMa6kCozwcLy5a_1Oi0GKDLDWwDqUrY4zhcKSUfkglqRSZdMQrIUfkrU9q26LZ15IjFABMqKBIMgdggRh-0NiVph5pPY9zcxlpIu79F2xP0B_DKG5J0d7GT9JCju_0QBEBbKTyt7lLaiQJ8dpw/s400/brad-davis-rainer-werner-fassbinder_1_4ed9415655024ce55e54aa4f6f624ddb.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="400" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCNaCj5MQAaQrBMFBWo6jv6xKBAIWETVsMeEqnTC4VMa6kCozwcLy5a_1Oi0GKDLDWwDqUrY4zhcKSUfkglqRSZdMQrIUfkrU9q26LZ15IjFABMqKBIMgdggRh-0NiVph5pPY9zcxlpIu79F2xP0B_DKG5J0d7GT9JCju_0QBEBbKTyt7lLaiQJ8dpw/s320/brad-davis-rainer-werner-fassbinder_1_4ed9415655024ce55e54aa4f6f624ddb.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">RWF with star Brad Davis.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jon has made it his mission to find movies that have never appeared on disc, or which seemed to have disappeared entirely from distribution. When he noted there was a German copy, taped off TV, of <i>Wizard</i>, I was stunned — the film wasn’t even retrievable from the aforementioned “underside of the Net.” But there was one big problem, in that the copy was, of course, in German, sans subtitles for those who love RWF but don’t know German.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Jon went to work on this as a “special project,” and finally, after utilizing different translators, the result is up on Rarefilmm and is now the single instance of a subtitled copy of <i>Wizard</i> appearing on the Internet. The film itself is mostly a behind-the-scenes look at Fassbinder’s last film, an adaptation of Genet’s <i>Querelle of Brest</i>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi939S3BZkMVE88IrNsksZESFtabTVt738PzuACPLlI-X9IO-SnvrMreJk7xS0BBbnqa9SCLOF_EXxlf9XulzNwYhsyq2bX5YxzCvmBxFMc4byJaxedF8622e-OQzjp8YOLjrRPlVzbyBLWPlJePGt3VlspjGVjHiRy9GgbHKNB0b_QpxuLTJsepO6syA/s2871/Querelle-Vintage-Movie-Poster-Original-55x117.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1385" data-original-width="2871" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi939S3BZkMVE88IrNsksZESFtabTVt738PzuACPLlI-X9IO-SnvrMreJk7xS0BBbnqa9SCLOF_EXxlf9XulzNwYhsyq2bX5YxzCvmBxFMc4byJaxedF8622e-OQzjp8YOLjrRPlVzbyBLWPlJePGt3VlspjGVjHiRy9GgbHKNB0b_QpxuLTJsepO6syA/s320/Querelle-Vintage-Movie-Poster-Original-55x117.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></div>Fassbinder’s <i>Querelle</i> (1982) is a gorgeous-looking picture that is kind of a muddle — but RWF was allowed his very rare muddles, as his filmography is astoundingly solid, especially for someone who worked so quickly and produced so much. As I’ve often said on the Funhouse TV show, the amazing thing is not that RWF was prolific, it’s that so few of his films aren’t truly wonderful.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuy8Y4XP2dAfMUT2tKBCXABESWKnBDMacAZOXUC1rSE9Rv243OFn_r9at9lDmhCQWVTyVVsjrnJQRc4y69DSOr4_D2HyA9C3-rIeYZA6pGIR6Fq_ZevBj8brWKNCdIdXO2-wcluBwfiOmsf1-gJTNNXnZT8DLxLdf7HOcohFQSIZAiebJO6wYgodqNw/s1200/Querelle-324771065-large.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="836" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuy8Y4XP2dAfMUT2tKBCXABESWKnBDMacAZOXUC1rSE9Rv243OFn_r9at9lDmhCQWVTyVVsjrnJQRc4y69DSOr4_D2HyA9C3-rIeYZA6pGIR6Fq_ZevBj8brWKNCdIdXO2-wcluBwfiOmsf1-gJTNNXnZT8DLxLdf7HOcohFQSIZAiebJO6wYgodqNw/w139-h200/Querelle-324771065-large.jpeg" width="139" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Warhol poster<br />for the film.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Back to <i>Wizard</i>: As a look at the making of Fassbinder’s last film, the doc is interesting, but Fassbinder also authorized a second filmmaker (Wolf Gremm) to shoot a doc on the set of <i>Querelle</i>, so there is another film out there on the making of that film. (<i>Rainer Werner Fassbinder — Letzte Arbeiten</i>, aka “Last Works,” 1982) Schidor got an exclusive, though: He got Fassbinder to agree to an interview, which took place on June 9 of 1982, reportedly 10 hours before Fassbinder’s partner and editor Juliane Lorenz found him dead on his bed.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The making-of part of the doc is actually most interesting when we hear from Burkhard Driest, who wrote versions of the script and played a featured role as “Mario.” Driest disliked RWF’s “very cynical attitude” about manipulating his actors — in this case, Driest questioned Fassbinder about the way a fight scene was to be shot, and Fassbinder taunted him about being scared of doing the scene.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This kind of interview is valuable not because we want to seek out people saying RWF was an incredibly difficult person, but to find out how this attitude was felt by those who were new to his sphere. Otherwise, making-of films become exchanges of compliments and nothing more.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlb1iiT9untYj0sMLxqjSCCgx3Zhs_YzWx_7F2_YnSi2bwTaWAfGVeCEGGkY11jdoh75jZa0fp7C49YKrSlugyoXdObj2l21aO_T-CNfSGGRcBRbJyyPAnDHjIxOgJ0lIseW0hV06j4BqIt-TecvFlAekLmaE1N7EsEBQtMQqOuZqA0scfWw5n8Dgzcg/s275/images.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlb1iiT9untYj0sMLxqjSCCgx3Zhs_YzWx_7F2_YnSi2bwTaWAfGVeCEGGkY11jdoh75jZa0fp7C49YKrSlugyoXdObj2l21aO_T-CNfSGGRcBRbJyyPAnDHjIxOgJ0lIseW0hV06j4BqIt-TecvFlAekLmaE1N7EsEBQtMQqOuZqA0scfWw5n8Dgzcg/s1600/images.jpeg" width="275" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Franco Nero and Jeanne Moreau are in this mode, elaborating how much they wanted to be in the film and how happy they were with their work on it. Schidor questions Moreau about her unique position in the cast, as she was the only person on-set who had ever met Genet. (Who was also contacted to write an opening comment for the film but turned it down; Genet lived until 1986.) She is able to speak about meeting the writer several times but not about his opinion of his work, as he never discussed that with her.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first revelation is the narration for the film, written in the first and second person (“from” Fassbinder and “to” Fassbinder) by author Wolf Wondratschek, spoken by actor </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Klaus Löwitsch. It’s quite unsentimental, considering it was presumably written (or could’ve at least been altered) after Fassbinder’s death. It reflects on Fassbinder’s </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">depleted physical state (especially his obesity), his desire for fame, but most of all his drive to keep working no matter what the circumstances or results.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Sample: “I want to be the cover of TIME magazine. I will make it, and that makes me happy, and I admit that. That is luxury. Work when ugliness finally reconquers all beauty.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“A feisty, fat body, a monstrous bastion against any affection that only makes you suspicious. It also protects you from the expected hugs. Even those you shyly long for. Getting ugly is your way of staying alone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“That’s luxury. How the world’s stars dance in front of your camera, and you’re standing next to them in the shadows with your Bavarian wheat beer. Nothing is more fascinating than being famous. Because nothing compares to the horror when the dreamt-up becomes reality.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIvLyMB8WsY9RrzHuPaJclsMmArBRve-vfFnXM9I4c4POXdyu-AqoNwgGfHHqW2hdBIrV27ZkeBcqNoXF-a4i3yJ5-4HyEfWhjLU1Ti1lrAZB7CeqxOyToktDk1KQ7uFL4xwWV2xncJG2OVIsz1dFHcFv0ikdwbxwee_CbCfwX4QmiMPdz3YEESvUKA/s803/13bb421f5f7de3230362dfae27d73f48.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="803" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHIvLyMB8WsY9RrzHuPaJclsMmArBRve-vfFnXM9I4c4POXdyu-AqoNwgGfHHqW2hdBIrV27ZkeBcqNoXF-a4i3yJ5-4HyEfWhjLU1Ti1lrAZB7CeqxOyToktDk1KQ7uFL4xwWV2xncJG2OVIsz1dFHcFv0ikdwbxwee_CbCfwX4QmiMPdz3YEESvUKA/s320/13bb421f5f7de3230362dfae27d73f48.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fassbinder, Brad Davis, and<br />some guy who visited the set.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“Get ugly and work. Then, only then, should they come. The beautiful kings of film. The queens and the photographers.” </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And then there is the one very important reason to see the film (if one already knows some of Fassbinder’s work): his last interview. As I noted in the last blog entry, while he is less than 12 hours away from death, he does not appear particularly sick, or particularly high. His answers are articulate and well thought out. He does seem very heavy, though, and his breathing is labored. Along with that he seems tired, extremely tired. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But, given that he produced</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">three early shorts (one is lost to the ages)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">one short contribution to an anthology film (the most singularly personal thing he ever made for any medium)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">one TV variety special</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">eight telefilms, two of which were two-parters</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">one documentary</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">twenty-eight fictional feature films, and</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">two miniseries for TV; the second of which, <i>Berlin Alexanderplatz</i>, is arguably his masterpiece and perhaps his most personal fictional work</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">it makes perfect sense that he finally, sadly, was very tired at the age of 37 and very much needed to rest on June 10, 1982.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2022/06/der-bauer-von-babylon-rainer-werner-fassbinder-dreht-querelle-1982/"></a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNXAlEjcD-4xpEHu9bzfxb3TnJLQwRqXXeHytO3anx2FKSf7QlaNWkqFPXiPF9qIX11N_iVWKFdwWgl1tVUOLjujRV2I6Mj9ujQuxw2q0wQkQWNDyfH5Nrm5J9aBfZZsx2L21UJEH41YrK2WRFY0nJ1KVfKUqC7qq8j9-kqsaP13ULlTdz7fADWCxCg/s568/Wizard.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="568" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNXAlEjcD-4xpEHu9bzfxb3TnJLQwRqXXeHytO3anx2FKSf7QlaNWkqFPXiPF9qIX11N_iVWKFdwWgl1tVUOLjujRV2I6Mj9ujQuxw2q0wQkQWNDyfH5Nrm5J9aBfZZsx2L21UJEH41YrK2WRFY0nJ1KVfKUqC7qq8j9-kqsaP13ULlTdz7fADWCxCg/s320/Wizard.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /><a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2022/06/der-bauer-von-babylon-rainer-werner-fassbinder-dreht-querelle-1982/">You can access <i>The Wizard of Babylon</i> at Rarefilm at this link.</a> Make up your own mind as to whether Fassbinder’s final interview is something that should be hidden away from RWF’s fans (as his mother desired) or if it is a very important document in terms of understanding Fassbinder’s thoughts at the end of his life, as some of us believe.</span><p></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-30517361916844945702022-05-31T16:23:00.032-04:002022-06-02T04:17:25.507-04:00Fassbinder’s 77th birthday, part 2 — a trove of amazingly rare RWF-related films (anyone know a ‘fansubber’ or low-price translator?)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eFA0Y2V-YAQ8UUybH5gQN7vonUO_fDCyRg263zp36xW2TgG-5-FhoAKkBORSeQgxeOpZCMVs3TgyrUtwVIvZOeDUe9ROO9mH7uvUZijUtGMCEdGWnPstvFzOuzVtU8sKs4jKvZZFEP59W1hGE9Uc4_gfPvZb6Oq0UKi83N4InHj3c5MFsjymF1sDQQ/s852/Fassbinder.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="557" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eFA0Y2V-YAQ8UUybH5gQN7vonUO_fDCyRg263zp36xW2TgG-5-FhoAKkBORSeQgxeOpZCMVs3TgyrUtwVIvZOeDUe9ROO9mH7uvUZijUtGMCEdGWnPstvFzOuzVtU8sKs4jKvZZFEP59W1hGE9Uc4_gfPvZb6Oq0UKi83N4InHj3c5MFsjymF1sDQQ/w131-h200/Fassbinder.jpg" width="131" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I don’t speak or read German. Thus, my deep fascination with the work of Rainer Werner Fassbinder has been inhibited. I have relied over the years on the kindness of subtitlers to supply subs for his films, and am happy to report that, at the current time, you can find English-subtitled copies of every one of his features and telefilms somewhere on the Internet, except the second part of <i>Bolweiser</i>.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the world of Fassbinder-lit, it’s been dire: the collections of his early writings and interviews with him have gone untranslated for a long time (18 years for the interview book so far).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thus, you can imagine my conflicted feelings when a YouTube poster named “Raoul Révéré” began to post a host of INCREDIBLY rare films concerning Fassbinder and other German directors, albeit with no English subtitles. Révéré has posted *dozens* of very watchable copies of films made by directors whose work Americans never get to see.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The fact that they are untranslated is indeed maddening — not since the traveling festival of Fassbinder’s films in 1997 (that began as a comprehensive show of everything he directed at MoMA) has there been such a veritable flood of RWF-related material available to viewers worldwide. I thus present the following with mixed emotions, but in celebration of Fassbinder’s birthday (which is today, May 31) and in commemoration of his death (which took place on June 10).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It would be delightful if the many people who “fansub” films for free would tackle these films, but it seems unlikely. It would make sense, however, to start a sort of crowd-funding project to get these films (perhaps just one or two to start with) subtitled for Fassbinder fans who would love to see them. Count me in if such a thing can be arranged with a bilingual person who has the time and the inclination (and charges a reasonable rate for translation of movie dialogue). I can be contacted at the email found at <a href="http://mediafunhouse.com/">mediafunhouse.com</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For those who would find respite in the Google “auto-translate” option for Closed Captions, I must warn you: that way lies madness. The films that do have that option on Révéré’s channel proceed — as they do in “heard” English — to produce sentences that are mere word-salad and seem to have a vague relation to what is being said (many words are “misheard” by the program), but which make no sense and ultimately undercut the viewing experience. (Read: You’re better off with whatever plot synopsis can be found online, even if it’s only a line or two.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Back to the trove of Révéré: The specialty on this YT channel is apparent — filmmakers who follow Fassbinder in their love of Hollywood (and German post-war) melodrama and others who craft visually arresting kitsch/camp/gay imagery. The bulk of Révéré’s online trove centers around the writer-painter-filmmaker Herbert Achternbusch and Fassbinder. In the case of the latter, Révéré has posted a number of films that fit into the categories outlined above and also happen to feature members of Fassbinder’s acting ensemble in supporting roles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Before I delve into the film directly relate to Fassbinder, here is a list of those, for the diehard RWF fan.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Directed by Robert Van Ackeren:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/nbQ0gzGUHzE"><i>Harlis</i>, aka “The Sensuous Three” </a>(1972), with Ulli Lommel</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/VNQuDGtrVZ4"><i>Der letzte Schrei</i> (1975),</a> with Delphine Seyrig and Udo Kier</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/XADb6NpiPMY"><i>Die Reinheit des Herzens</i> (1980)</a>, with Elisabeth Trissenaar</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Directed by Achternbusch:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/VnsEpfMyz6M"><i>Die Atlantikschwimmer</i> (1976)</a>, with Margarethe von Trotta, Kurt Raab</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/FdWnJSdWWLw"><i>Die Olympiasiegerin</i> (1983)</a>, with Kurt Raab</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/8aCcIDOdXeY"><i>Rita Ritter</i> (1984)</a>, with Armin Mueller-Stahl, Barbara Valentin, Eva Mattes</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/7Dm0ACpl18I"><i>Wohin?</i> (1988)</a>, with Kurt Raab</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/F5_hoo03vFA"><i>Hades</i> (1995)</a>, with Irm Hermann and Rosel Zech</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/lkWWOyOroZU"><i>Das fünfte Gebot</i> (The Fifth Commandment, 1975)</a>, directed by Duccio Tessari, with Helmut Berger and Udo Kier</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/MQdlMbCO0Dg">“Talk Im Turm,” 1992 talk show </a>with Helmut Berger and Fassbinder colleague (and nemesis) Rosa von Praunheim</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i><a href="https://youtu.be/CELwlNqoTyU">Die Peep Show ist tot, es lebe die Peep Show!</a></i> by Lothar Lambert, with Ingrid Caven and Dieter Schidor</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/4fe4dTihxzY"><i>Marmor, Stein und Eisen bricht</i> (1982)</a>, directed by Hans-Christof Stenzel, with Volker Spengler</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A “missing in action” title that did have a U.S. distributor (“Promovision International”) and yet never showed up on U.S. DVD is <i>A Man Like Eva</i> (1984), directed by Radu Gabrea. It’s an odd picture, in that its main conceit is that Eva Mattes (who starred in Fassbinder films, including <i>Petra von Kant</i> and the missing (but available on the “underside” of the Internet) <i>Jail Bait</i>) plays RWF.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Ms. Mattes does a good impression of RWF, but the film does leave out one aspect of Fassbinder’s non-stop activity, namely drugs. One assumes Gabrea left this out to further concentrate on Fassbinder’s relationships with his performers and crew.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XY8FSzXRP74" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Moving closer to Fassbinder, Révéré has posted <i>Heute spielen wir den Boß</i> (“Today we play the boss,” 1981), the only theatrical feature directed by the composer of the immaculate music in Fassbinder’s films, Peer Raben. The film stars and is coscripted by Fassbinder's ex-boyfriend, star, and crew member, Kurt Raab. Other Fassbinder mainstays in the cast are Ingrid Caven, Rosel Zech, Harry Baer, Irm Hermann, and Gunther Kaufmann.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OcBrwCcBZSo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Raab died of AIDS in 1988. A documentary about his life appeared in 1989. <i>Sehnsucht nach Sodom</i> (“Yearning for Sodom”), was directed by Hanno Baethe, Hans Hirschmüller, and Raab.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ae5i4WYsL34" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There are seven documentaries on Fassbinder on the Révéré channel — alas, these as well are all in German and have no translation to any other language. Each one of them contains rare footage of Fassbinder interviews and shows him directing on-set. I leave out here the full-length interview filmed in his Paris apartment, as that has appeared as a supplement on U.S. DVD.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first documentary is <i>Es ist nicht gut, in einem Menschenleib zu leben</i> (“It is not good to live in a human body,” 1995), directed by Peter Buchka. <a href="https://youtu.be/FucU2HSaxFE">It can be found here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Doc 2 is </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Ich will nicht nur, dass ihr mich liebt</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (“I don’t just want you to love me,” 1992), directed by Hans Günther Pflaum.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jUIE4Hb5C7c" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Doc 3 is <i>Ende einer Kommune?</i> (“End of a commune?”). Directed by Joachim von Mengershausen, it is probably the RAREST of the RWF docs. It was released in 1970 and shows Fassbinder and his colleagues rehearsing and attending the premiere of his first film, <i>Love Is Colder Than Death</i>, at the 1969 Berlin Film Festival.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7S68DwJqKGs" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Doc 4 is <i>Der Kulturbetrieb braucht so was wie mich</i> (“The culture industry needs someone like me”).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nvIoDTX9380" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Doc 5 is <i>Etwas, wovor ich Angst habe, setzt mich in Gang</i> (“Something I’m scared of gets me going,” 1982).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/zLVV1aqw3b0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Doc 6 is <i>Der Mensch ist ein hässliches Tier</i> (“Man is an ugly animal”). </span></p><p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lVPxckTS_7Q" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Lastly, Révéré has posted three films that Fassbinder acted in, only one of which appeared on U.S. VHS. The first is <i>1 Berlin-Harlem</i> (1974), directed by Lothar Lambert and Wolfram Zobus. It contains RWF ensemble members in the cast: Ingrid Caven, Peter Chatel, Gunther Kaufmann, and Evelyn Künneke.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Fassbinder appears at 116:20, with Caven outside a movie theater. <a href="https://youtu.be/zFfaHOKTPzc?t=4580">That scene is here.</a></span></p><p><i style="font-family: helvetica;"></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZGLCDVNFYLKjyLFXBkFEUWgxjevKhM6FG_32FDc8sRP778fYzJMWEsIzLpnQ0_stIKWBabcvxZYjSZpSaP7XkwXVL9hiGuWfLM4AzA5EOIlkRwHYBxt2k_NYO2jT8YP86XjI287lmRkgTABdRi3WRTeqL1DrWPredQaY5AxLKKHBqcIMvlMPZnd26A/s1418/Shadow%20of%20Angels.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1418" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipZGLCDVNFYLKjyLFXBkFEUWgxjevKhM6FG_32FDc8sRP778fYzJMWEsIzLpnQ0_stIKWBabcvxZYjSZpSaP7XkwXVL9hiGuWfLM4AzA5EOIlkRwHYBxt2k_NYO2jT8YP86XjI287lmRkgTABdRi3WRTeqL1DrWPredQaY5AxLKKHBqcIMvlMPZnd26A/w141-h200/Shadow%20of%20Angels.jpg" width="141" /></a></i></div><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Shadow of Angels</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (1976) is the most controversial project that Fassbinder was ever involved with. It began as the Fassbinder play “The Garbage, the City and Death,” which contains a character called “the Rich Jew.” It has been noted by critics that the character is not an anti-Semitic stick figure, but the play attracted protests and smears against Fassbinder in the press.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film adaptation is akin to the bleaker films in Fassbinder’s canon (like <i>In a Year of 13 Moons</i>), but Swiss filmmaker Daniel Schmid handled direction for <i>Shadow</i>. Schmid is seen here introducing the film on German television. Online he is quoted as saying that the film takes place in “a Germany where no one is starving and no one is scared anymore, and the only two people who are still sensitive are the prostitute and the Jew, because both of them are outcasts.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Below is the version put up on YT by Révéré. A subtitled copy of the film <a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2019/10/schatten-der-engel-1976/">can be found at Rarefilmm, here</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2mA53X_ruUY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most amazing discovery for Fassbinder fans who enjoy watching him act in films directed by others is a 1971 telefilm directed by Peer Raben, <i>Die Ahnfrau — Oratorium nach Franz Grillparzer</i> (“The Ancestress”). The cast includes RWF, Margit Carstensen, Hans Hirschmüller, Kurt Raab, Irm Hermann, Ulli Lommel, Ingrid Caven, and Hanna Schygulla.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">For those who would like to try to follow the plot without knowing the language, the plot of the 1816 play by Grillparzer is this (well, at least according to Grillparzer’s Wiki bio): “It is a gruesome fate-tragedy in the trochaic measure of the Spanish drama, already made popular by Müllner's Schuld. The ghost of a lady who was killed by her husband for infidelity is doomed to walk the earth until her family line dies out, and this happens in the play amid scenes of violence and horror.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Raben’s stylized production of the play truly makes one wish this film did have subtitles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XfCmM78764g" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And finally, a film that did play in the U.S. but has disappeared in the last 40 years. And for which we DO have a translation of the key portion (but not on the film itself on YT). The film in question is Dieter Schidor’s <i>The Wizard of Babylon</i> (1982), which shows the making of Fassbinder’s last film, <i>Querelle</i> (1982) but even more importantly features his last-ever interview, conducted the evening before he died at the very young age of 37.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There is another making-of film about <i>Querelle</i>, Wolf Gremm’s <i>Letzte Arbeiten</i> (“Last works,” 1982), so while Schidor’s behind-the-scenes look at the production of Fassbinder’s last film is very interesting, it isn’t unique. The interview most certainly is.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s not all that long, but the film begins (for 6 minutes) and ends (for 11 minutes) with this last interview. The important thing to know is that Fassbinder is not out of his mind on drugs. He does not look like he is dying — he simply looks very, very tired. (Which makes sense, given the output of films, plays, TV work, and writing he created from 1969 to 1982.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguUxWCJbB3cU8FVYIwtkEf48ft3m3j7abvbX_DnihyVne9Te2nP_wSi8BxIzwQqlmv8OMQ2bmPr7TEKMf0tBw5wuA1JLPJSJ3Dk8fm1urF9-FHYDKz-UvPSpEOfN2IGp2FoGTGRB1ANOJMZc8lEcwRW7nJvZkir_5hGoau72rJY2iKn39XhIrb8YyT7w/s568/Wizard.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="568" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguUxWCJbB3cU8FVYIwtkEf48ft3m3j7abvbX_DnihyVne9Te2nP_wSi8BxIzwQqlmv8OMQ2bmPr7TEKMf0tBw5wuA1JLPJSJ3Dk8fm1urF9-FHYDKz-UvPSpEOfN2IGp2FoGTGRB1ANOJMZc8lEcwRW7nJvZkir_5hGoau72rJY2iKn39XhIrb8YyT7w/s320/Wizard.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />His answers are extremely coherent and quite eloquent. I will include two here:</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Schidor: Rainer, you’ve just concluded your 41st film, <i>Querelle</i>, based on a novel by Jean Genet. What made you film this radical novel by Genet after your feminist films, <i>Maria Braun</i> and <i>Veronika Voss</i>? Or, why did you postpone it for so long? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">RWF: Well, I didn’t shoot feminist films but films about human society. <i>Querelle</i> is a utopian draft in contrast to society. That’s what it’s in contrast to, it isn’t feminist film as opposed to men’s film. These films were to describe a society as well as possible. It’s easier to do this with women. <i>Querelle</i> is the draft of a possible society… which, judging by all its repulsiveness, is wonderful. Therefore, they don’t contradict each other but complement each other.... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Schidor: You started to create a kind of German Hollywood with <i>Lili Marleen</i> and <i>Querelle</i>, which were both extremely big studio productions. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">RWF: That was once an expressed thought of mine. What I’d like is a Hollywood film, that is, a film that’s as wonderful and as easy to understand as Hollywood but at the same time not as untruthful.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The full translation of the interview was featured in the press notes put out by New Yorker films. <a href="https://cinefiles.bampfa.berkeley.edu/catalog/57256?fbclid=IwAR1inz8ErTJ-Y0KtNQvXtBsFoSSfI3SdlmSV6A6y_MHueFLFead2jkNB0F4">The interview and a short essay by Fassbinder on <i>Querelle</i> can be found here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So now, with the re-entry into public view of a “lost” Fassbinder documentary and its key sequence translated into English, I can conclude my celebration of the 77th anniversary of RWF’s birth.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DWxtIvJoorc" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Thanks to superior cineaste Paul Gallagher for his help with this piece. Thanks also to Jon Whitehead of Rarefilmm.com for letting me know about this YT channel and in discovering the print materials about </i>Wizard of Babylon<i>. <a href="https://rarefilmm.com/">Rarefilmm.com is here.</a></i></span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-78783383267370261212022-05-31T03:40:00.025-04:002022-06-02T04:16:20.339-04:00Fassbinder 77th birthday, part 1: ‘Last Train to Harrisburg,’ Udo Kier as director-star (with Fassbinder as narrator)<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacgf7eYI0yTCYMyqRaHofOLN2QGP_gLuoEwOtPhvZ0jXqGuky0RmHW0RLX8-cy4ivVUzJa5Cms1ZsA_dhPPsMyKJgCRo0g7oepveJB6-SDmxF70Bdal08ctxX-xL_wG-zuPcbzrNDxSSYmI2yn_6_TSlcHt1wUFlnXrVwwv4FF9MZ5bKVI-FDKOvlfA/s640/Udo%20girl%20.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhacgf7eYI0yTCYMyqRaHofOLN2QGP_gLuoEwOtPhvZ0jXqGuky0RmHW0RLX8-cy4ivVUzJa5Cms1ZsA_dhPPsMyKJgCRo0g7oepveJB6-SDmxF70Bdal08ctxX-xL_wG-zuPcbzrNDxSSYmI2yn_6_TSlcHt1wUFlnXrVwwv4FF9MZ5bKVI-FDKOvlfA/w200-h150/Udo%20girl%20.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Female Udo in "Last Train..."</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When YouTube kicked into high gear in the mid-2000s I was flabbergasted. I knew of it as a “viral videos” site, but suddenly friends began sending me links to clips from cult British acts (most notably the Bonzos and Cook & Moore) that were being posted by fans with crazy video collections. During that time there were two Rainer Werner Fassbinder-related clips that went up quickly and went down even faster. I didn’t know how to save anything from the site that early on, but now, years later, I have been able to rewatch both of the clips, and I offer the second one to you in celebration of the 77th anniversary of Fassbinder’s birthday today (May 31).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first one is <a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2020/08/on-fassbinders-75th-birthday-and_21.html">the magic act that Fassbinder did with Hanna Schygulla (as promotion for <i>Lili Marleen</i>, still unreleased in the U.S. on disc!), tucked away in a German documentary on Fassbinder</a>. The second is a more complex creation that needs explaining and unfortunately is up with no English subs on YT — but at this point I’m so glad to resee the item that I’m okay with it in any condition.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The video in question is a short b&w film directed by and starring Udo Kier called “Last Train to Harrisburg.” Now, anyone who has followed film in the last nearly four decades knows Udo, and knows of his power to steal scenes away from higher-paid stars. (His bit as the angry wedding planner in <i>Melancholia</i> is just one of dozens.) He can literally make a film worth watching even when it is terrible – and he has admitted that just a small percent of his films were actually good, and an even smaller percent were great.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLpwfBJjLpe5vlq3jcWydr77OW-4KnnrI1uKFCrePI1oHjETSu6-ZNwORixx4LIEJM9desT2ZXGQ8gH8HtO_JXYRPySEKM3YKK0vAODTeIBf7emPJRnhLV6jpRZ1W7LmK_8VpyEztl1yFkRWou3QYZa6EBi0f4PYPT0qHLY0Ugvcmf7eXLd36VFTFtA/s259/Udo%20Rainer.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLpwfBJjLpe5vlq3jcWydr77OW-4KnnrI1uKFCrePI1oHjETSu6-ZNwORixx4LIEJM9desT2ZXGQ8gH8HtO_JXYRPySEKM3YKK0vAODTeIBf7emPJRnhLV6jpRZ1W7LmK_8VpyEztl1yFkRWou3QYZa6EBi0f4PYPT0qHLY0Ugvcmf7eXLd36VFTFtA/w200-h150/Udo%20Rainer.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Udo Kier<br />and RWF.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">However, “Harrisburg” is a very special case. It’s a short that has reportedly only been shown theatrically three times, in film festival settings. It is also the only directorial effort by Udo, and it contains him as 2/3rds of the cast, playing both a man and a woman having a fevered conversation in a train. If that isn’t enough to make the film incredibly special (and wild, truly wild), it moves from must-see to “Wow, that actually happened?” when one finds out that male-Udo and female-Udo in the film are both lip-synching to the voice of another artist — namely Rainer Werner Fassbinder, who participated in this short by reading apocalyptic passages from the Bible.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the case of “Harrisburg,” though we do not have subtitles, we do have a document written by a film historian who saw it at a film festival that sheds some light on its making and its contents.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Roberta Hofer, a professor of film at the University of Innsbruck, Austria, wrote <a href="https://www.facebook.com/letztereisenachharrisburg/posts/2131472740232387">an account of the film’s screening at the 2012 Munich Film Festival that was shared by the /slash Film Festival in 2018, when they were showing “Last Train.”</a> Udo had appeared at the Munich fest with Ed Lachman, who shot the film and is a master-d.p. who has worked with Wenders, Herzog, Schlondorff, Shirley Clarke, Paul Schrader, Steven Soderbergh, Todd Haynes, and Robert Altman. The credits say that “Last Train” is "a film by" Kier, Lachman, and filmmaker Bernd Brummbär, but then the direction is credited to Kier alone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Hofer’s account notes that the film was shot at Ostbahnhof, a railway station in Berlin. Kier was in Munich to make a film for the author Wolf Wondratschek with Fassbinder actress (and one-time wife) and renowned torch singer Ingrid Caven. Wondratschek dropped the project two days before it was to start. Hofer continues: “But Udo Kier had already arrived, so Wondraschek left him all the material, including the cameraman. Kier had to improvise. He was ambitious, he smirks, wanted to be a producer, director, and actor all in one.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zhQ07rP-S0C0maC0EGIr1UPXWTpTFnf2AocmysZKXAjwZVfUSuI3gDL0IrKE3InFnFZ7zxajWW6dUH20bJ6Bo-959UBVVQ4IGwr-XADkiP0Cws_QXWaiDTJSqEO_PGVQxZpLGaen_9lUZ-swFJiqB2BsmPD_lTANQphM4u0Gpwbdm8cuWvyfcJ4zqg/s640/Soldier%20looking%20up.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zhQ07rP-S0C0maC0EGIr1UPXWTpTFnf2AocmysZKXAjwZVfUSuI3gDL0IrKE3InFnFZ7zxajWW6dUH20bJ6Bo-959UBVVQ4IGwr-XADkiP0Cws_QXWaiDTJSqEO_PGVQxZpLGaen_9lUZ-swFJiqB2BsmPD_lTANQphM4u0Gpwbdm8cuWvyfcJ4zqg/s320/Soldier%20looking%20up.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Male Udo in "Last Train..."</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Kier’s age during the filming is given as being “in his early Thirties” so we can assume (given that he was born in 1944) that it was shot in the late Seventies. The final date given for the film at film festivals is “1976–1984,” presumably because Kier finally put the finishing touches to it in ’84.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It is stressed that the title for the film was to reflect the meltdown at Three Mile Island, near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. “A voyage to extermination,” said Kier, according to Hofer. Fassbinder was then recruited to provide a narration (and thus, dialogue) for the film. At first RWF wanted to read from <i>Our Lady of the Flowers</i> by Jean Genet, but that could’ve created copyright problems, so it was decided he would read from the Bible. Kier said (via Hofer): “And then we found some really nasty things in it. The hands of merciful women cook their own children. Things like that are in there, you wouldn't believe it. We thought, we will surely get an award from the Catholic Church."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">At this point Hofer describes the film, which consists of an opening with a man in a Biblical outfit (read: fur pieces on his shoulders, arms, groin, and legs) who kills a sheep in what looks to be an empty slaughterhouse. Then we see Kier in his dual roles as both a man and a woman (American soldier and dignified lady) who are seemingly not a couple (or were long ago) arguing in a railway compartment. The film finishes with the man who killed the sheep going up to a lectern to speak. Throughout we do hear RWF reciting Bible passages (although his voice turns to that of a young boy toward the end of the train sequence).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wq4qhnx0eaq0WdoRdgQNcuRDsXf6pJF-hcZd3KzY_bjlafxeMl3VknB8L1iykuyA7dqDR4fiEYos6IhUnsaakuvEi7UTLDl9Zl9ZeYhuJzBVCp2pHTxKjxZU5ThECEh4UghNUFmUCVpr-w6V33lKB5QWrk7VvXIgIB9kIcIf9YYHwp8CP9bKinTrlw/s986/Udo%20Berlin.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="986" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wq4qhnx0eaq0WdoRdgQNcuRDsXf6pJF-hcZd3KzY_bjlafxeMl3VknB8L1iykuyA7dqDR4fiEYos6IhUnsaakuvEi7UTLDl9Zl9ZeYhuJzBVCp2pHTxKjxZU5ThECEh4UghNUFmUCVpr-w6V33lKB5QWrk7VvXIgIB9kIcIf9YYHwp8CP9bKinTrlw/s320/Udo%20Berlin.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Udo Kier in<br /><i>Berlin Alexanderplatz</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here is where the translation of Hofer’s document and the Bible quotes mentioned in the film (which, yes, I followed, dimly, using the ridiculousness that is the Google “auto-translate” feature on Closed Captions in YT) might lead the way to decipher when the film was actually shot (as well as a second element I will go into below). Although Kier dates the film as beginning in 1976, it would seem from both the title — which refers to an event (the Three Mile Island accident) that occurred in 1979 — and the Bible quotes mentioned, that Kier made his film after <i>Berlin Alexanderplatz </i>(in which he appears in a small role), which is narrated by Fassbinder and in which he reads passages from Alfred Doblin, and at points other elements creep in, such as Bible quotes.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Hofer states that the man and woman are quoting the Book of Revelation to each other (with Kier, again, lip-synching to Fassbinder’s voice). The first passage she quotes, though, is from Jeremiah:
“Wild donkeys stand on the barren heights and pant like jackals” (14:5-6). Jeremiah is also read from in the narration of <i>Alexanderplatz</i> (Jeremiah 17: 6-9) <a href="https://inayearwith44films.com/2013/12/27/berlin-alexanderplatz-part-6-love-has-its-price-1980/">as noted here</a>. Was it perhaps the case that Fassbinder did his narration for Kier’s short film while also doing the narration for his own epic masterwork? (Or did he give Kier outtakes from the <i>Alexanderplatz</i> audio recording?)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Hofer’s account of the film also provides a quotation that definitely comes from the book of Revelations 8:8: “And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea: and the third part of the sea became blood.” A final quotation, starting “Cursed be the day I was born!” come from Jeremiah 20:14. Hofer then notes that, after the screening ended, Kier thanked RWF for his work on the film. He is asked when he last saw the film and answers, “Twenty-five years ago.” (1987) Hofer concludes, “Kier's voice breaks, he turns away. He doesn't want to succeed in sounding casual now.”</span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZE6DkF8mKi1gTQVlRfXPGeZ-7GQ1iv4iz3-Wsmbauqp6S4U-1F9DvEc68jxwPtBB1zMNIeL8KlSj5tk8mqSGL9MCAEKC32X-jqFFO1tN_xxcIDs8HuszYbQiBf96Hd-7wyOZdrxsNC351Yv8C9-A7DSAnrFjrx-QN9NUcqnMdxPXrT-OKiC-0asxFNw/s720/Berlin%20Alex.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZE6DkF8mKi1gTQVlRfXPGeZ-7GQ1iv4iz3-Wsmbauqp6S4U-1F9DvEc68jxwPtBB1zMNIeL8KlSj5tk8mqSGL9MCAEKC32X-jqFFO1tN_xxcIDs8HuszYbQiBf96Hd-7wyOZdrxsNC351Yv8C9-A7DSAnrFjrx-QN9NUcqnMdxPXrT-OKiC-0asxFNw/w200-h150/Berlin%20Alex.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From <i>Berlin Alexanderplatz</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJiCFxb5-Kk89j5i6sfBOJpvQ9uxGUserjRxOoACseVdF9oapCkgc6UJI_9ho0s9o6o2lqUuJRHAmMkdw-1HhCAX3MyY94-Zsos5wYUEVDlhRmu7Jrk2LFcmOCtEa8TzXH_dS43yGdltpaNZkJD5IXFo7Js19aa9iGXoxhQ5PgGvtst_zXAjjCItM9A/s640/Last%20Train%20sheep.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJiCFxb5-Kk89j5i6sfBOJpvQ9uxGUserjRxOoACseVdF9oapCkgc6UJI_9ho0s9o6o2lqUuJRHAmMkdw-1HhCAX3MyY94-Zsos5wYUEVDlhRmu7Jrk2LFcmOCtEa8TzXH_dS43yGdltpaNZkJD5IXFo7Js19aa9iGXoxhQ5PgGvtst_zXAjjCItM9A/w200-h150/Last%20Train%20sheep.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From "Last Train<br />to Harrisburg."</td></tr></tbody></table>A final note on a discovery that I couldn’t find any mention of online. The footage of the man killing the sheep in the empty slaughterhouse appears in <i>Berlin Alexanderplatz</i>, episode 4 from 33:36 to 34:38. Kier and/or Lachman “flipped” the image, as the footage in Kier’s film is a mirror image of the footage from the Fassbinder original. (And also in b&w.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This ties Udo’s film even closer to Fassbinder at the time of </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Berlin Alexanderplatz</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> and makes me wish he had officially released the film online and discussed its making at some length. It’s a compelling piece, even untranslated as it now sits on YT. And it certainly is an interesting footnote to Fassbinder’s filmography.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2reBbu4ndks" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thanks to superior cineaste and friend Paul Gallagher for finding the Hofer document and saving the video clip for me, for further perusal.</span></i></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-25992055907096498642022-05-19T03:23:00.043-04:002022-08-29T00:32:41.685-04:00Jacques Rozier: Dream vacations run aground<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qbXRzx5R8RhZDWeA5lJlkzC-F12zU9ugqogABn61AlYGTaU_js5sXAUHMlQ7WbVe88KeMoZr2H7FIhWZgr8VV28GoYNVi64tu9ch3SMllTbGBYOKbS5RMlIW3VfLdJ9AOqDREHN0aGygyPe64qsZR6BkYqP9tupZox6wypMGG7JNTYezGi3uLuOSlA/s801/adieu%20in%20color.PNG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="770" data-original-width="801" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qbXRzx5R8RhZDWeA5lJlkzC-F12zU9ugqogABn61AlYGTaU_js5sXAUHMlQ7WbVe88KeMoZr2H7FIhWZgr8VV28GoYNVi64tu9ch3SMllTbGBYOKbS5RMlIW3VfLdJ9AOqDREHN0aGygyPe64qsZR6BkYqP9tupZox6wypMGG7JNTYezGi3uLuOSlA/w200-h193/adieu%20in%20color.PNG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by<br />Raymond Cauchetier.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">While Godard remains the only one of the internationally famous French New Wave filmmakers to still be with us, a lesser-known French filmmaker whose work in the late Fifties and early Sixties was distinctly in line with the “nouvelle vague” (both the Cahiers posse and the Left Bank group) is still alive at 95. Jacques Rozier’s </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Adieu Philippine</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (1962) is the greatest New Wave film to never receive a single legal release on U.S. DVD or Blu-ray (or even VHS), but his later lengthy comedies are just as worthy of study — and just as unavailable in the U.S.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This piece will not be a survey of Rozier’s life and career, but rather an in-depth exploration of the four fiction films of his that are available in France on DVD and are thankfully now all on <a href="http://rarefilmm.com/?s=Jacques+Rozier">the Rarefilmm site</a>. <i>Adieu Philippine</i> is most definitely the masterpiece in the bunch, but the three comedy features that followed possess a charm and a deadpan notion of (Rozier’s favorite theme) things falling apart that makes them very unique farces.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPUT4M1OXZCpuf12U664BeXU3V_EwxLvGA3BJYnzPmLFCx4Z7XvKWslQpub264Knowq_FOVJ_mQU8ZrZmhAEWbowQWwiLQ_oLK9zt4RURV3b6Xml-7S_mfO1fRWGU67m-fWLLLnw49AuPIKuqQLt7DHplKaqeBkDfiHlbi81mWkMmahJepAmrAEabQg/s485/Head%20shot.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="335" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPUT4M1OXZCpuf12U664BeXU3V_EwxLvGA3BJYnzPmLFCx4Z7XvKWslQpub264Knowq_FOVJ_mQU8ZrZmhAEWbowQWwiLQ_oLK9zt4RURV3b6Xml-7S_mfO1fRWGU67m-fWLLLnw49AuPIKuqQLt7DHplKaqeBkDfiHlbi81mWkMmahJepAmrAEabQg/w138-h200/Head%20shot.png" width="138" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Younger Rozier.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Although Rozier’s 1955 comic short about a precocious schoolboy, “Rentree des classes” is delightful, the true prelude to </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Philippine</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> is Rozier’s short “Blue Jeans,” which qualifies as an early New Wave short, as it was released in 1957. All the hallmarks of the movement are there: real locations, innovative camerawork, editing (mostly wipes here) to move the plot along, the behavior of young people as the subject, and “empty” moments where the characters contemplate their future.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The films follows two young men in Cannes — Rozier offering a preliminary version of a theme he loves, namely people on vacation. The boys wander the city and the beach trying to pick up girls, but when they get them they have neither the money to romance them properly nor the savoir faire to move it to the “next level.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rozier employs an older-sounding narration to voice the thoughts (in past tense) of one of the young men. The age in the voice convinces us that, while this short was shot in the present tense, the events are being pondered by an older man remembering his youth. (Rozier, like the other New Wavers, was around 30 when he made his filmmaking debut.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOErOqtIayfG1-OGajHnXMeUyr5aXQPnqCsUduKRpIUgPsbXLgS0g7_3ESBTt_-7O6sFU57gWa7oZ-3HcbZadBB0AGr_PKeedAtXW7f-DJOm7V9x5YlGdnYpjf2mU8wxkwEfjJp_vImkxJzJOkc_5hqh3l8GDNsCjB9TR_Dy7iycNV_ayPugDKF96YfA/s768/bluejeans%2000.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="768" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOErOqtIayfG1-OGajHnXMeUyr5aXQPnqCsUduKRpIUgPsbXLgS0g7_3ESBTt_-7O6sFU57gWa7oZ-3HcbZadBB0AGr_PKeedAtXW7f-DJOm7V9x5YlGdnYpjf2mU8wxkwEfjJp_vImkxJzJOkc_5hqh3l8GDNsCjB9TR_Dy7iycNV_ayPugDKF96YfA/s320/bluejeans%2000.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />His feature debut, <i>Adieu Philippine</i> (<a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2018/09/adieu-philippine-1962/">watch it on Rarefilmm</a>) is indeed his best-known film. The film contains all of the facets that New Wave debut features have, plus it has a wonderful musical soundtrack consisting of original compositions by Jacques Denjean, Paul Mattei, and Maxime Saury, pop songs, and some irresistible (to the characters and us) cha-cha music.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film’s plot is beautifully structured. The most commonplace aspect of it — two young women (Stefania Sabatini, Yveline Céry) are in love with one young man (Jean-Claude Aimini) — is complemented by the fact that the young man knows that he’s about to be “called up” for military service in Algeria (during the Algerian War, a conflict that was not supposed to be mentioned in French films).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This serious element serves as a brilliant counterpoint to the mostly light-hearted tone of the film, which is emphasized in the second half from the shift in location — the lead Parisian trio go on a Club Med vacation to Corsica. In the final scenes, the girls begin to truly suffer over their “shared” love of the boy, and the boy finally registers his uncertainty at going off to war.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_nO01zpJhqnFNnDRteYOHVTsGIT8urLZOBNdpVA--uERtczIOYOx6FWmhXw1bEoDKk7EnOeSycVH3fACngTJ3Bb-fhueDGg7GDi7sGCqei5ulJF6WeGvLWTXmSgqLRbLxLE96YSDcpX4RAcWbif0UXCu2qwtD5e2qJQKjEhbuXIeLY3DE1U2Cz--ExA/s645/adieu-philippine.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="645" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_nO01zpJhqnFNnDRteYOHVTsGIT8urLZOBNdpVA--uERtczIOYOx6FWmhXw1bEoDKk7EnOeSycVH3fACngTJ3Bb-fhueDGg7GDi7sGCqei5ulJF6WeGvLWTXmSgqLRbLxLE96YSDcpX4RAcWbif0UXCu2qwtD5e2qJQKjEhbuXIeLY3DE1U2Cz--ExA/s320/adieu-philippine.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Thus, <i>Philippine</i> is an apparently light romantic comedy that has a barely concealed serious subtext. This is particularly fascinating in light of the fact that the film falls into the “two carefree girls” subgenre of New Wave film, which stretches from Godard’s “Tous les garçons s'appellent Patrick” (1959) to Rivette’s masterwork <i>Celine and Julie Go Boating </i>(1974).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rozier added flavor to his tale of young people by hiring non-professionals for the three lead roles. They are all surprisingly good and lend an air of awkwardness and authenticity to their roles.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The visual experimentation that Rozier utilized in “Blue Jeans” is used wonderfully here, as the wipes — and jumpcuts and fades — again convey the movement of time, while the film’s most memorable musical sequence has the camera serving at one point as the “dance partner” for one of the girls (Céry). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As a cha-cha tune plays, she dances with us, staring into the camera, providing the sort of bond with the viewer that characterized the famous moment in <i>Monika</i> (1953) by Bergman where Harriet Andersson looks straight into the camera (as Godard had Karina do in <i>Vivre Sa Vie</i>).</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7dSDIbYfHb6GvuPy5yQDNmYP3U0VMatxLpXsmbZyru5Hnjq1yIksAy5Rv4rRfI8fcod4fkNgyHtRIM2Sd62v0eYAQtGNdKgDvM9SZvGdCT0WsVrtJ4gYLHZscdLcF0P6HLCpPIoTcaHRVmnRDxJtZFG2wZVw5Y8r_0wQWR9FBImoNuG6NMnvYmtBpw/s480/Adieu%20Philippine%20POV.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7dSDIbYfHb6GvuPy5yQDNmYP3U0VMatxLpXsmbZyru5Hnjq1yIksAy5Rv4rRfI8fcod4fkNgyHtRIM2Sd62v0eYAQtGNdKgDvM9SZvGdCT0WsVrtJ4gYLHZscdLcF0P6HLCpPIoTcaHRVmnRDxJtZFG2wZVw5Y8r_0wQWR9FBImoNuG6NMnvYmtBpw/s320/Adieu%20Philippine%20POV.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The film’s release was delayed for a few years. It was shot in 1960 and was to be edited and released in ’61. There was a major problem, however — the sound was missing from various scenes, and so Rozier had to lip-read what the characters said, since he had allowed his non-pro leads to largely improvise their dialogue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Godard was a great admirer of Rozier’s (see below), to the extent that he introduced him to the producer Georges de Beauregard. Unfortunately, Rozier didn’t get along with Beauregard; it is noted in <a href="https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacques_Rozier">Rozier’s French Wikipedia bio</a> that Rozier’s feud with the producer was one reason he was considered “the enfant terrible of the New Wave.” <i>Philippine</i> came out without Beauregard’s name on it, and in a version that had been reedited by Rozier from the initial cut intended for release, approved by the producer. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rozier may not have been a writer for the <i>Cahiers</i> or a Left Bank storyteller, but his work was very warmly received by two of the most outspoken of the “nouvelle vague.” Francois Truffaut’s review proclaimed: “You will not find a single unusual frame in <i>Adieu Philippine</i>, not a single camera trick, and neither will you discover a single false note nor any vulgarity. Nor will you find ‘poetic moments’; the film is an uninterrupted poem. Its poetry could not emerge clearly from looking at rushes; it arises from any number of perfect harmonies between images and words, sounds and music.” [Truffaut, <i>The Films in My Life</i>, 1978, Simon & Schuster, pp. 324-325]</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaZjiKOfsP16ogcYViO3J6pQoHqfBYqdOQIYWSDh89cbBxqJv44RHWb8EZQiyj9KiF35KD1pyII8JZk9adlRm7cHIQFs3D72CcogWnln1_gkEeI9HP53x8xEwLQ8liukSSV4tR1tDm5PVynsXDOMo3ir1IamnDWpAU7K1l2cjHbcrpnmL3UWPtiGfYQ/s500/Adieu%20Philippine%20being%20shot.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="496" data-original-width="500" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLaZjiKOfsP16ogcYViO3J6pQoHqfBYqdOQIYWSDh89cbBxqJv44RHWb8EZQiyj9KiF35KD1pyII8JZk9adlRm7cHIQFs3D72CcogWnln1_gkEeI9HP53x8xEwLQ8liukSSV4tR1tDm5PVynsXDOMo3ir1IamnDWpAU7K1l2cjHbcrpnmL3UWPtiGfYQ/w200-h198/Adieu%20Philippine%20being%20shot.jpeg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Godard declared <i>Philippine</i> to be one of his ten favorite films of 1963, and wrote about “Blue Jeans”: “Here the truth of the document makes common cause with the grace of the narration. True are the two layabouts who patrol Cannes on scooters in search of girls; graceful the long tracking shots along the Croisette or the rue d’Antibes, boldly edited one after the other in direct cuts. True the dialogue and attitude; graceful the realism of the photography and the shutters which poetically scan the afternoon on the warm sand…. It is a film about time passing — in doing what? In exchanging kisses. So its moral, both gay and sad, is that of Louis Aragon’s quatrain:</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the crossways of kisses/</span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The years pass too quickly/Beware beware/Shattered memories.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">[Godard, <i>Godard on Godard</i>, ed: Milne, 1972, The Viking Press, pp. 114-15]</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Uncle Jean’s opinion of <i>Philippine</i> was pithier: “Quite simply the best French film of these last years.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Regardless of these raves, the film failed at the box office. It took nearly a decade for Rozier to produce his second fiction feature. In the years between he directed shorts and several original TV programs, many of which were about music (popular and classical) and fashion. A bunch of these shorts can be found on the “underside” of the Internet. Most are not available with English subs, but a few are.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The two earliest shorts (mentioned above) are both included in the French box set with English subtitles; two others, “Dans le vent” (an early Sixties short about the fashion trend of women wearing capes) and the extremely silly “Nono Nenesse” (a 1970s pilot for a TV show where four adult actors, including noted comic performers Jacques Villeret and Bernard Menez, played precocious babies) are also available with English subtitles on the Net (although the latter barely needs any).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztr77i3JarBA_2whj1Wi89S1YfCPvVa3N9JBhyMjwTCWTCHY2uPFzxYAKMi190lVZpOwcvnowG_b-T0zpdLuPhJpLrQVV9GkBMY-XvAwNvyZA8-8dvsK5NC1RIMqiJqL4et-C2hHFwBF7SAm88pa1ywQk0lOJno6l67by-8n8zDhM3oV5NsK3rjmpUQ/s259/Paparazzi.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztr77i3JarBA_2whj1Wi89S1YfCPvVa3N9JBhyMjwTCWTCHY2uPFzxYAKMi190lVZpOwcvnowG_b-T0zpdLuPhJpLrQVV9GkBMY-XvAwNvyZA8-8dvsK5NC1RIMqiJqL4et-C2hHFwBF7SAm88pa1ywQk0lOJno6l67by-8n8zDhM3oV5NsK3rjmpUQ/s1600/Paparazzi.jpeg" width="259" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Three of the best of Rozier’s interim documentaries have been included on Criterion discs. “Paparazzi” and “Bardot et Godard” (both 1964) are on the <i>Contempt</i> release — both were authorized by Godard to show the making of the film, with the former focusing on the many photographers trying to get even a telephoto glimpse of Bardot, the latter showing some location footage and explaining the film’s plot and themes. Rozier’s full-length 1964 doc about the legendary Jean Vigo for the “Cinéastes de notre temps” series is included on the <i>Complete Jean Vigo</i> collection on Criterion. (<a href="http://www.discdish.com/2011/08/31/review-the-complete-jean-vigo-dvd/">My review of the set is here.</a>)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The subsequent, lengthy comedy features by Rozier are, as noted above, included in the French box set and on <a href="http://rarefilmm.com/?s=Jacques+Rozier">the Rarefilmm site</a>. The first of these is the epic-length (for a comedy) <i>Du côté d'Orouët </i>(<a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2018/09/du-cote-dorouet-1971/">watch it on Rarefilmm</a>), which is the most “immersive” of Rozier’s comedies crafted in the documentary style. Shot on 16mm for French TV in 1969, the film was never shown on television and was released to theaters four years later.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">No dubbing or visual effects for Rozier — he shot <i>Orouët</i> in a candid style with direct sound. All the better to convey the realistic side of a journey to the Atlantic coast by three young women who are looking for diversions from city life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">These ladies giggle. A lot. They in fact spend a great deal of the first two-thirds of the film giggling at various situations. Joëlle (Danièle Croisy) is our initial focus of attention, as we see her at her white-collar office job. She has been invited on vacation by her friend Kareen (Françoise Guégan), who has the ability to share with cousin Caroline (Caroline Cartier) a family beachfront house in the coastal town of Saint Gilles Croix de Vie. Shortly into their visit, the girls are joined by nerdy Gilbert (Bernard Menez), Joëlle’s coworker, who has a pretty evident crush on her.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNkkzsgs2t5fqpKjQT2nkSZikzyD3z8TBOQ6-jGs21krKAYnSIkEGxlkSyafkPv9sdUTtOh1rYNudHQodGszjS00IqDTXjMD3hG0iX0d0fYQMs9hEGMtXOpgKuz908ldA5PO8fdxKj_1s5vWEniUdDkc70EGAC-RB50Ul3xpAinrIrt5D8xg353XuSvA/s472/Orouet.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="472" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNkkzsgs2t5fqpKjQT2nkSZikzyD3z8TBOQ6-jGs21krKAYnSIkEGxlkSyafkPv9sdUTtOh1rYNudHQodGszjS00IqDTXjMD3hG0iX0d0fYQMs9hEGMtXOpgKuz908ldA5PO8fdxKj_1s5vWEniUdDkc70EGAC-RB50Ul3xpAinrIrt5D8xg353XuSvA/s320/Orouet.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Gilbert becomes the central figure in the film, with Kareen and Caroline teasing and taunting him, and Joëlle being oddly cold. The film’s tone shifts at the hour and 45 minute mark (<i>Orouët</i> runs a full 154 minutes) when Joëlle is openly seen as being miserable at the dinner table. Rozier studies the antic behavior of the three girls and Gilbert up until then, and his documentary approach (documentary conveying a “serious” tone to most viewers) does blend in an unusual fashion with the light-hearted silliness.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The last half-hour finds the vacation falling apart, as the girls lose their taste for the local life by the beach and Gilbert finally snaps — after preparing a big dinner that no one eats, he finally notes to Kareen that “you take me for an imbecile.” This rebellion is cemented in the final, “turnaround” scene where we are back in Paris and Joëlle watches at a restaurant as her new coworker flirts with Gilbert, while she (Joëlle) laments how uncertain her future is.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpHEGsWj4WAaBJzGS8MCJuyTWp8OOARYszxN_C9VWnPKWWB-ie_jy-mBO0BxCOiXj0WAEqRMOAp2yTmABrSQaM1PDJFAmEIBt1kljj7WUKhQUqXOVKGiWWFRs8WzXHaZ_2PcYmac8EETmexCS1DUSUdeZh6LDlruvdSjfyvzCVtOF5nlf0A6-KRxDTAw/s1085/Orouet%20DVD.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="755" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpHEGsWj4WAaBJzGS8MCJuyTWp8OOARYszxN_C9VWnPKWWB-ie_jy-mBO0BxCOiXj0WAEqRMOAp2yTmABrSQaM1PDJFAmEIBt1kljj7WUKhQUqXOVKGiWWFRs8WzXHaZ_2PcYmac8EETmexCS1DUSUdeZh6LDlruvdSjfyvzCVtOF5nlf0A6-KRxDTAw/w139-h200/Orouet%20DVD.jpg" width="139" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Menez featured<br />on the DVD release.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The above sounds like quite a lot of plot, but it is actually conveyed in a very short span of time. One comes away from <i>Orouët</i> thinking of it as a tale of a man who has been (latter 20th-century phrase) “friend-zoned” by the object of his affection and can find no way out. (This was further underscored by the fact that Menez went on to have a successful career as a confused “nice guy” comic actor in TV and movies.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Orouët</i> does rework the notion behind <i>Philippine</i>: that “happy summer vacation” movies can have dramatic subplots lurking behind the carefree images of girls in swimsuits. Rozier continued to explore vacations that go awry in his next two comedy features. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Watching Rozier’s lengthy comedies one is struck by his desire to create humor in a deadpan fashion by shooting the most farcical sequences in real time. This sense of “real duration” comedy that lasts longer than that in conventional farces (which run 80–100 minutes tops) is quite a tall order for a filmmaker, and only one other filmmaker in my opinion has undertaken it and succeeded; Jean Rouch in the several-hour version of <i>Petit a Petit</i> (1970), about African dignitaries who visit Paris to find out how to properly build skyscrapers. (This version is rarely exhumed, but I saw it at Anthology Film Archives many years ago.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Orouët</i> was indeed Rozier’s longest comedy, but his next feature, <i>The Castaways of Turtle Island </i>(1976; <a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2018/11/les-naufrages-de-lile-de-la-tortue-1976/">watch it on Rarefilmm</a>), has the most solid comedic premise: A travel agent comes up with a “Robinson Crusoe” getaway where the customers go to a desert island and live by their wits.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The travel agent is played by the great French comic actor Pierre Richard, who by the time of <i>Castaways</i> was already famous, having made <i>The Tall Blond Man with One Black Shoe</i> (1972). Rozier was asked to dream up a vehicle for Richard, who was eager to work with Rozier but who had to move on to a different project at a certain point — therefore, an odd twist near the end of the film where his character disappears for several scenes and then is revealed to have been jailed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMW0a9oro9IpeNJ_JjIPWFn7ZALQBlAXYYq4-_duFQ-g6GOXpuNZyqMRyErguTzLHY25KeozO4pm8XkAPLRAUgZJxh5wOCPd_3DWfO-ugvlDz6WIOe0gj1178HUccYfiYIUi51yvAj1QfJYixOrn8EdvSF381o_yfUzV7Tvukp7RT8gZYNQdMLdQfXiQ/s500/Castaways%201.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="500" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMW0a9oro9IpeNJ_JjIPWFn7ZALQBlAXYYq4-_duFQ-g6GOXpuNZyqMRyErguTzLHY25KeozO4pm8XkAPLRAUgZJxh5wOCPd_3DWfO-ugvlDz6WIOe0gj1178HUccYfiYIUi51yvAj1QfJYixOrn8EdvSF381o_yfUzV7Tvukp7RT8gZYNQdMLdQfXiQ/s320/Castaways%201.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />As with all of Rozier’s features, <i>Castaways</i> has an episodic structure, in which Richard and chubby, jovial Jacques Villeret function as a comedy team, running the vacation in a wholly incompetent manner. The passengers initially like the idea of being adventurous, but they soon grow tired of Richard’s odd demands — for example, he stipulates that they must swim from boat to shore as they approach the island, since Crusoe was the survivor of a shipwreck. Thus, their boat can’t neatly dock at their destination.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A passenger who remains interested is Julie (Caroline Cartier), a press attaché whom Rozier utilizes as a narrator in the last third of the movie. This might have been because of Richard’s “disappearance” from the plot or because a “joining” device was needed to guide the viewer, since Rozier had no completed script for the film and allowed the actors to improvise.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uCCZOtGq-yhaELiAPmT9-aP8GQGqcxxW0s6LYomlPAkYVRAsyL1jtO3_2TgGCoMIVqBkF_gesAkPGsSAHn9R2E7lMJo_lJHy1r92uOpUP-tdVh_UTTp7fgzne9ngcD84XKHAo5yv6I-fXfM7Fl99TBF-z6gCwlbMuKxkYNo9YmUz8shPGS_Y_08TJw/s529/Castaways_of_Turtle_Island-151974537-large.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="397" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-uCCZOtGq-yhaELiAPmT9-aP8GQGqcxxW0s6LYomlPAkYVRAsyL1jtO3_2TgGCoMIVqBkF_gesAkPGsSAHn9R2E7lMJo_lJHy1r92uOpUP-tdVh_UTTp7fgzne9ngcD84XKHAo5yv6I-fXfM7Fl99TBF-z6gCwlbMuKxkYNo9YmUz8shPGS_Y_08TJw/w150-h200/Castaways_of_Turtle_Island-151974537-large.jpeg" width="150" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The scenes that work best are the ones in which Richard imparts his castaway “logic” to the passengers. The scenes that don’t quite gel are an introductory subplot about Richard cheating on his girlfriend with a Brazilian woman (which runs the first 20 minutes of the picture and amounts to nothing in terms of the story as a whole) and some of the sequences at the end of the journey, where Villeret and Cartier nearly become a romantic couple.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rozier is quite skilled at shifting the tone of his films. Even so, the chubby and playful Villeret seems like a very odd choice as the would-be Crusoe who does indeed know what he’s doing on the desert island — and thus seems desirable to the press attaché.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As had happened with Rozier’s two preceding features, <i>Castaways</i> had a troubled post-production period, after an eight-week in Guadeloupe and Dominica. The producers didn’t like Rozier’s improvisatory method of filming and the large amount of footage he shot. It took two years before he had a final cut assembled, and the film ultimately failed at the box office, despite Richard’s enthusiasm for the project from start to finish.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As it stands, <i>Castaways</i> has some great scenes and memorable images, and it leads the way to Rozier’s next comedy, <i>Maine Ocean</i> (1986).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Maine Ocean</i> (<a href="http://rarefilmm.com/2018/03/maine-ocean-1986/">watch it on Rarefilmm</a>) is the closest thing to a conventional French farce that Rozier ever made, but it still has all the hallmarks of his style, from documentary filming techniques to deadpan comedy rendered in “real duration.” The difference, here, however, is that the filmmaker didn’t concentrate his energies on delivering a linear storyline — he lavishes attention here on subplots and gets rid of all his main characters save one in the final scene. The characters do take a very linear trip, as is reflected in the title, from the Gare Montparnasse (which is located on the Avenue du Maine in Paris) to the Atlantic Ocean.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarPgKZ4GTMrHYcoojLwwOmja2jnUbdz1BvFs5-yJ9xiL-aslmTT90gg2ZSqG_94wO9BYeaaXqKku-T_8LsqnmCYwy2OI20Y53fActOxa_xSNUvkAxOS-UQSGN9Hc2ySajLpbRGrZwo0rbsePfENxzl9psfbpIOLP3b6ydLiolKOv7FvgIHgPrFK9NtA/s299/Maine%20Ocean%20tiny.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="299" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarPgKZ4GTMrHYcoojLwwOmja2jnUbdz1BvFs5-yJ9xiL-aslmTT90gg2ZSqG_94wO9BYeaaXqKku-T_8LsqnmCYwy2OI20Y53fActOxa_xSNUvkAxOS-UQSGN9Hc2ySajLpbRGrZwo0rbsePfENxzl9psfbpIOLP3b6ydLiolKOv7FvgIHgPrFK9NtA/s1600/Maine%20Ocean%20tiny.jpeg" width="299" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />The plot, such as it is, starts off with a classic farcical misunderstanding: a Brazilian dancer (Rosa-Maria Gomes) who speaks very little French is accosted on a train by two by-the-books ticket takers (Bernard Menez, Luis Rego) who badger her about not having followed ticket-approval protocols. A French lawyer (Lydia Feld, who also coscripted with Rozier) who speaks Portuguese comes to her aid, and the dancer ends up accompanying the lawyer to one of her trials — a very funny case involving a violent fisherman (Yves Alonso) who believes himself to be easygoing and a victim of circumstances.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In a show of spontaneity that is the norm in <i>Maine Ocean</i>, the lawyer then accompanies the dancer on her cross-country trip to “see the sea” at Les Sables-d'Olonne. (They eventually wind up in a fishing town on Yeu Island.) The newfound friends then re-encounter the two ticket takers and the violent client, all of whom are in love with our heroines.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This ragtag group are joined by a Mexican entrepreneur (a wonderfully over-the-top Pedro Armendáriz Jr.), who believes the Brazilian dancer can sing (which she can’t). He sets in motion the third act, in which there is a delightful scene set in an empty civic center, where the entrepreneur finds out the truth about the Brazilian, and all the characters (including the drunken ticket takers and the equally drunk fisherman) take part in an impromptu dance.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswJXHip8Yq0TASijxXv2FBathdUR4DS2VPJCwUZZlZnAqts29QdlpgXWtbPWxBxEo9kyL5Df7ZS-Uz4oinELKycz_YDTeOe_686GJvo72gS_nAn8YRc3FwEjZ6DMFfCBqBSvkv_vI_1KEvQW2J9iU5T3VkcZc3qwZcyYRwchQnJGBUPQlWuGwdCdxwg/s515/Maine%20Ocean.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="515" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswJXHip8Yq0TASijxXv2FBathdUR4DS2VPJCwUZZlZnAqts29QdlpgXWtbPWxBxEo9kyL5Df7ZS-Uz4oinELKycz_YDTeOe_686GJvo72gS_nAn8YRc3FwEjZ6DMFfCBqBSvkv_vI_1KEvQW2J9iU5T3VkcZc3qwZcyYRwchQnJGBUPQlWuGwdCdxwg/s320/Maine%20Ocean.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Benez’s ticket taker ends the film alone, taking a circuitous journey home to his wife and kids in Nantes. Although one misses the rest of the cast, his character’s moving from a small boat to a bigger one, back to a smaller one, and then to the smallest of all in the finale to reach the shore makes him perhaps the ultimate Rozier figure — a guy whose vacation fell apart but who has exciting and incredible memories that will last him the rest of his life.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Menez is clearly one of Rozier’s favorite performers (the Wiki photos of Rozier in both his American and French Wiki bios come from an appearance the filmmaker made at a Menez book signing), but the performer that amused this viewer the most is Yves Alfonso, who had showy roles in Godard’s <i>Masculin-Feminin, Made in U.S.A., and Weekend</i>. Alfonso’s staccato-sounding way of speaking (<a href="https://www.indiewire.com/2014/05/exclusive-cahiers-du-cinema-reviews-in-english-how-jacques-roziers-maine-ocean-reflects-the-evolution-of-language-26094/">which is actually a regional dialect of French called “Poitou”</a>) and his character’s short temper are great comic devices that make him stand out from the otherwise friendly and low-key characters in the film.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9H665vnXgUv_lwnU6gBlblxXwCy81OgAO4pKBa6INIS0WRLy5ABHahetgTOA_E4i8gC4jKmRvXF0bioDg2Bew4EE4-OaeQcG89CmgyeV-Kgd0NFfL3g-fBuVvejznUqi-qZG1ootDbQNQBVHimQ438171evz8qteJuoBMO86CZAr36ZDGWDCC0SquQ/s1024/Maine%20Ocean%20Yves%20Alfonso.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9H665vnXgUv_lwnU6gBlblxXwCy81OgAO4pKBa6INIS0WRLy5ABHahetgTOA_E4i8gC4jKmRvXF0bioDg2Bew4EE4-OaeQcG89CmgyeV-Kgd0NFfL3g-fBuVvejznUqi-qZG1ootDbQNQBVHimQ438171evz8qteJuoBMO86CZAr36ZDGWDCC0SquQ/s320/Maine%20Ocean%20Yves%20Alfonso.png" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />As noted above, <i>Maine Ocean</i> is closer to the “normal” French film farce than any other Rozier picture. Average French farces move along familiar lines — mistaken identity, characters who try to reinforce their lies, role-playing, and the misadventures of dunderheaded comic “types.” The fact that Rozier worked in this, more traditional fashion of emphasizing characters and gags most likely contributed to the film being not only a critical success (all of Rozier’s films had that distinction) but also a modest hit with the public.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEita0Ga-vnh2dav90m8JhC127x_Dt3OYIfTM0DwJCptW-xG3nwXhYNo16ocCjh4tIqiS99uJU7Bnfg8Z48y0z9mzuuKsyz8xtcMc-Ds5gu_DbLdNEO62htypUUQcC3jKIqVD_1MoSkieFQv1LayVe0OBBIlFR41_IMLUFLa1Yc36VjZO4J5Z-0LEoII_w/s1334/Maine%20Ocean%20poster.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEita0Ga-vnh2dav90m8JhC127x_Dt3OYIfTM0DwJCptW-xG3nwXhYNo16ocCjh4tIqiS99uJU7Bnfg8Z48y0z9mzuuKsyz8xtcMc-Ds5gu_DbLdNEO62htypUUQcC3jKIqVD_1MoSkieFQv1LayVe0OBBIlFR41_IMLUFLa1Yc36VjZO4J5Z-0LEoII_w/w150-h200/Maine%20Ocean%20poster.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Seventies farces of filmmaker Bertrand Blier, whose dark and absurdist comedies are generally dissimilar to Rozier’s (and who was the subject of a series of 14 episodes on the Funhouse TV show!), bears one strong element in common with Rozier’s humorous films, especially <i>Maine Ocean</i>: the male characters are all idiots and the women possess the clear minds (or at least the rational logic) needed to get things accomplished. Rozier is very different from Blier (and is from an earlier generation of French filmmaking), but their shared fascination for chaos-causing males does unite their comedies.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Perhaps it was the presence of Feld as a co-scripter, but the vacation in <i>Maine Ocean</i> involves no lingering images of women in swimsuits — although the Brazilian does dance in her very skimpy costume in the civic center scene.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Rozier’s work changed a great deal from the late Fifties through the late Eighties, but his visual approach remained the same. One can lament that he was only able to make five feature films in his career (the last being <i>Fifi Martingale</i> in 2001, costarring Alfonso and Feld, who again coscripted). But those films are engrossing models of French farce, delivered in a uniquely realistic manner and with a common theme — sympathetic but harried characters using their “getaway” vacation to prove something to themselves. It’s a very different approach that refreshed an age-old genre.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1M06QDnh4_By452yJJP5bmCK2tAP8dWfU3TK99odRkRwUApsrfgWr7kJ4O5bcWanquc2wze7FKcTkRLLpJ8kYzYTOFAz7iIr0fQbNFnQMvdi0XLC2xVfSFsB4mHQ_rtAV_VDfuFEGwUBKSNbG1qP2e91UZ3-DHzmxXNDp9FymaUuiEZSj6X8NwjqB9g/s274/Head%20shot%202.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="220" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1M06QDnh4_By452yJJP5bmCK2tAP8dWfU3TK99odRkRwUApsrfgWr7kJ4O5bcWanquc2wze7FKcTkRLLpJ8kYzYTOFAz7iIr0fQbNFnQMvdi0XLC2xVfSFsB4mHQ_rtAV_VDfuFEGwUBKSNbG1qP2e91UZ3-DHzmxXNDp9FymaUuiEZSj6X8NwjqB9g/s1600/Head%20shot%202.jpeg" width="220" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rozier in recent years.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I said at the outset of this piece that I would not be
discussing M. Rozier’s personal life, but I must at least mention the latest,
very sad headline that appeared across the Internet in July of 2021 concerning
Rozier. A movement arose to amass <a href="https://www.mesopinions.com/petition/social/soutien-jacques-rozier/151931">many signatures on a petition</a> to get
the filmmaker lodging after it was revealed that his landlord was throwing him and
his wife (who was ill at the time) out of their apartment.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This is a very sad development, <a href="https://newsrnd.com/life/2021-07-12-call-for-help-to-save-the-filmmaker-jacques-rozier--expelled-from-his-home-at-94.BklwPRkcpu.html">which is explained in English here</a>; the fact that his eviction was occurring as he (age 94!) prepared prints of his films for a tribute to
his work at the Cinematheque Francaise was an even unkinder cut. <a href="https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/7691-jean-eustache-and-jacques-rozier">A recent article in English on the Criterion website</a> states briefly that “fortunately,
filmmaker and writer Paul Vecchiali came to [Rozier’s] aid.” I could find no confirmation
of how Vecchiali helped out Rozier — one must also be aware that Vecchiali himself
is currently 92 years old.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If anyone has any additional info or links about what is
happening with M. Rozier’s living situation, please let me know in the comments
section. In the meantime, I urge everyone to watch the Rozier films that are
now available on the Net, and rejoice in the fact that a filmmaker who worked
against adverse conditions for most of his career is finally getting his vacation
in the sun.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">UPDATE (5/23): Thanks much to "Gone to the Movies" for the note verifying that Vecchiali did indeed help out Rozier. The organization mentioned in the Tweet is the <span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">Société des Auteurs Réalisateurs Producteurs. It's good to know that old New Wavers are there to help each other out. Bravo, M. Vecchiali!</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHBdNuwOuCZzsKTnrg1TnM48Dp-4iV2u7Wa_h7wXTZ9HkApw6Wge9MIeUpabgWAIQI25ZKlb9BGiE1ec5UKGku-V3w3SHDePiaYA2N-h7NTnVIojJ6jWVb902gN6mlrtFUqXo1JJKBuPmTXPfMjdFY2WlA3RWEliqP3jfv_g7LpiapcqP25BwBZzz-Q/s922/Screen%20Shot%202022-05-23%20at%202.30.15%20PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="579" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHBdNuwOuCZzsKTnrg1TnM48Dp-4iV2u7Wa_h7wXTZ9HkApw6Wge9MIeUpabgWAIQI25ZKlb9BGiE1ec5UKGku-V3w3SHDePiaYA2N-h7NTnVIojJ6jWVb902gN6mlrtFUqXo1JJKBuPmTXPfMjdFY2WlA3RWEliqP3jfv_g7LpiapcqP25BwBZzz-Q/s320/Screen%20Shot%202022-05-23%20at%202.30.15%20PM.png" width="201" /></a></span></i></div><i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Thanks to friend and superior cineaste Paul Gallagher and Rarefilmm mastermind Jon Whitehead for help with access to these films. <a href="https://rarefilmm.com/">The Rarefilmm site can be found here.</a></span></i><p></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-60197905135361773712022-03-04T01:06:00.084-05:002022-03-05T04:09:53.342-05:00Steve Allen: 100 years and counting<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIlSO96naFr1Sg2YI6R4W0FI16TkWe2IDplYO2tnNzH1t58cHIp9DsIBNhVALtxKM2qhYBUeYwWqbDSt1gQUgT9wJ8_cVhziFgytPIkmnRZ3QZ4lDpbZIyrTPyNQNbZUoGd4rvLnxKoDKoZ_Rv8y594hoSl37lLLaCSll81kNM85eVNfhJlz6wfQ57Qg=s768" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="598" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIlSO96naFr1Sg2YI6R4W0FI16TkWe2IDplYO2tnNzH1t58cHIp9DsIBNhVALtxKM2qhYBUeYwWqbDSt1gQUgT9wJ8_cVhziFgytPIkmnRZ3QZ4lDpbZIyrTPyNQNbZUoGd4rvLnxKoDKoZ_Rv8y594hoSl37lLLaCSll81kNM85eVNfhJlz6wfQ57Qg=w156-h200" width="156" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">[NOTE: This one's a very long entry -- let the page "build" to see the many video embeds from YouTube.] <br /><br />The day after last Xmas — December 26, 2021 — marked the centennial of the birth of Steve Allen, one of my all-time favorites. A comedian with a ready wit, who bent language brilliantly as he talked. A TV pioneer, who pretty much invented the late night talk show. A seasoned performer, who wrote in many formats — from sketch comedy to monologues, from short stories and poems to novels, from plays to musicals, and many, many songs.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There is no official DVD box set of Allen’s TV work, which is a sad state of affairs for fans of classic TV comedy. Thankfully, some fans have posted shards of Steve’s incredible TV work online so he can still be remembered for the wonderfully smart and exquisitely silly man that he was.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I saluted the august occasion of Steve’s centennial by airing four episodes about Steve on the weekly Funhouse TV show — three of the episodes were new (dealing with his b&w TV work in the Fifties) and one was a vintage Funhouse episode about his TV work in the Sixties and Seventies, spruced up for digitization, from the initial run of five episodes I did when Allen died in 2000. Assembling these shows sent me back to the tapes I have of his Fifties prime-time show that aired on the then-new Comedy Central in the 1990s (sadly recorded on 6-hour speed on inferior tapes) and other material of his I have on VHS from years past.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtgO3Q0gTiOqBsS_qR89HPHlmHkaXuieZuDFSe-ZcsBB8KYRW1wi-ZkRU8F3xTIF_k8Y1ViFiEIpmpn-ytFq1-HKpOSovuJ82I6afERpv5LY63xLRgHJZMA4ypSM2f1HLc4itd0caC0666W_4__bHgL-OSKcjsKo080iYzwtmt2h17fIBSk1jtzsswxA=s960" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="725" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtgO3Q0gTiOqBsS_qR89HPHlmHkaXuieZuDFSe-ZcsBB8KYRW1wi-ZkRU8F3xTIF_k8Y1ViFiEIpmpn-ytFq1-HKpOSovuJ82I6afERpv5LY63xLRgHJZMA4ypSM2f1HLc4itd0caC0666W_4__bHgL-OSKcjsKo080iYzwtmt2h17fIBSk1jtzsswxA=w151-h200" width="151" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen was a master at what could easily be called “smart comedy.” When I was a kid, my father recommended him to me and I discovered his world of humor at the same time I was becoming a Marx Brothers cultist. (The discovery of the key modern smart-comedy act, Monty Python, was still a few years off.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Throughout the years I’ve revisited Steve’s available work, and his finest stuff does measure up to the best work of the people he himself classified as the best television comedians — from monologists like Hope and Berle (neither of whom I’m a big fan of, but Hope’s early movie work was great) to sketch masters like Gleason and the mighty Sid Caesar.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most valuable thing Steve did throughout his career was to immediately book on his various shows comedians, musicians, and even authors whose work he loved. Thus, his audience was not only treated to the great ensemble of character comedians that surrounded Steve on a weekly basis, but they also encountered in prime time – or on syndicated talk shows that Steve did throughout the years — a raft of the second half of the Twentieth Century’s most important entertainers and artists, including (deep breath) Billie Holiday, Carl Sandburg, Lenny, Elvis, Miles, Jonathan Winters, Lionel Hampton, Shelley Berman, Jacques Tati, Jerry Lee Lewis, Jack Kerouac, Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner, Frank Zappa, Woody Allen, Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Albert Brooks, and many, many others.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The clips that exist of these landmark guest appearances are in some cases readily available on YouTube (and are clips you should indeed check out); others are either tucked away (a very small bit of the Tati appearance is in the Criterion box of Tati’s films in one of the supplemental documentaries) or are sadly lost forever. The last-mentioned is the case with the Sandburg and the Billie Holiday appearances (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjy_q7rTODE">although audio exists of two “Tonight” appearances by Lady Day</a>) and a full-length interview Allen did with Henry Miller, which he lamented never aired at all and pretty much instantly “disappeared” after he was told he couldn’t air it — despite the fact that Miller said nothing “questionable” in the discussion.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnTHFcCamesfFmOj3spVDkZSQcRaHLV_PT6Do93xFMNJ3LqB5dURmuzeXGFyqZPXwja6wSSsVDKHYv9HY9HdmyMCdFti9DBpjNHWSIV18j81v4Dc9wrKgrbyY3k03huXyP7lrt1C7orngx1JQVf-asHNcv3bDHRJ6Uu_Mv-4SONPk5b0wHDtWT7B_WGw=s599" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="560" data-original-width="599" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnTHFcCamesfFmOj3spVDkZSQcRaHLV_PT6Do93xFMNJ3LqB5dURmuzeXGFyqZPXwja6wSSsVDKHYv9HY9HdmyMCdFti9DBpjNHWSIV18j81v4Dc9wrKgrbyY3k03huXyP7lrt1C7orngx1JQVf-asHNcv3bDHRJ6Uu_Mv-4SONPk5b0wHDtWT7B_WGw=s320" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Lacking any home-video/DVD/Blu-ray release of ANY of his television work, what we have to go on are, again, the shards and full shows posted by fans and collectors. I present a survey of these below, but did want to first acknowledge Allen’s work as an author. My recent video binge of his work that is online and that I had on tape was augmented by a mini-binge of reading/re-reading a select amount of his books. (14 thus far, with at least 3-4 to go.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Steve wrote a number of books from the time of his hosting “Tonight” until his death in 2000. They are of varying interest to different readers, as he wrote about a number of subjects and published fiction, non-fiction, and even poetry in his busiest years. The collections of his comic writing and sketches (four highly recommended books, starting with </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Bigger Than a Breadbox</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">), his five humorous novelty books, and the three books he wrote about comedians are the most useful to students of comedy and are still very enjoyable to read.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8vDESX-vz7a7cwtx4iT9Nm3HgSZyieoKCLZBRqDeNCrN6X4L5YLyLhomNIhrCGw_x7wqZ_yH3aNULne1GjtEeeViJWHt6BkrQSIncWCSmgANK7bRGkHg-WLHD4vTZsq6nH1PY_522rtIXtn_Tp16Qz8kCpgZOJBzmokGxetPEk4HL13iOi3iVZLvtcw=s318" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="214" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8vDESX-vz7a7cwtx4iT9Nm3HgSZyieoKCLZBRqDeNCrN6X4L5YLyLhomNIhrCGw_x7wqZ_yH3aNULne1GjtEeeViJWHt6BkrQSIncWCSmgANK7bRGkHg-WLHD4vTZsq6nH1PY_522rtIXtn_Tp16Qz8kCpgZOJBzmokGxetPEk4HL13iOi3iVZLvtcw=w135-h200" width="135" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Of particular interest is </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Funny Men</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, which Steve wrote in 1956, evaluating the TV comedy stars of that day (and including some gents whose shows had gone off the air but deserved better in his view, including Wally Cox and Red Buttons). The book is a fascinating read now, because it was the first time a successful performer wrote up those who influenced him (some of whom were his competitors) and honestly tried to discuss what their appeal was.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The result is a book that is only funny when he quotes from routines (he does include all of Cox’s brilliant <a href="https://youtu.be/GWi4-49kT4o">“Dufo (What a Crazy Guy)”</a>) but will fascinate fans/cultists/researchers of Fifties TV comedians, as Steve praises the comedians in question but also notes their best and sometimes feeblest aspects. For instance, he speaks of Benny and Gleason as two of the greatest “comic actors,” while praising Groucho and Fred Allen for their natural wit and discussing the likability of performers like George Gobel and Arthur Godfrey (whose much-discussed underside is addressed by Steve).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The follow-up books to </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Funny Men</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> were </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Funny People</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> and <i>More Funny People</i>, both published in the early Eighties. By this point Steve was deeply disturbed by cursing and “obscenity” in standup comedy and on TV. Thus, he wrote about one-of-a-kind standups like Pryor and Carlin, and while he did acknowledge their comic genius and their seemingly effortless brilliance onstage, he still had to condemn their language — although he did mention their both being clearly connected to Lenny Bruce, whose work he defended at all stages of his career. Both of the </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Funny People</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> books are certainly worth reading — especially when he is writing about his own experiences encountering the younger comics, like Andy Kaufman — but it is dispiriting to see Steve calling for outright censorship of “filthy” comics.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSOR0htda0KCAjk_EEsqCExkABG-YTfGVnJyneWrxnWI2UMSHPginFc-tFUT7Zsynwic-TlJX6ypl4xOrQKw70L7sHbjv1lDh6bEYSGxZOKN7RsiWs0kESq-hcRg-LwbD_PkZ4iKskkbGXB088BF56zsmg76hz_DaLl-GV8Hv7LEYBi9Amkyvgeg2eBQ=s2560" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1716" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSOR0htda0KCAjk_EEsqCExkABG-YTfGVnJyneWrxnWI2UMSHPginFc-tFUT7Zsynwic-TlJX6ypl4xOrQKw70L7sHbjv1lDh6bEYSGxZOKN7RsiWs0kESq-hcRg-LwbD_PkZ4iKskkbGXB088BF56zsmg76hz_DaLl-GV8Hv7LEYBi9Amkyvgeg2eBQ=w134-h200" width="134" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not a serious <br />book.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen’s many nonfiction books (17) covered a number of topics — from consumer fraud to China, from the plight of migrant farm workers to Left/Right politics, from the “dumbing down” of America to the Bible and morality. These books are quite sincere in their aim, and yet they are primarily interesting as a reflection of the different topics that grabbed Steve’s attention, and not as definitive treatments of their topics. (He admitted this in the case of his book about China by calling it </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">“Explaining China”</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> in quotes.) His most important achievement in the area of history and education was his great PBS series “Meeting of the Minds” (about which, more below).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Most interesting among his nonfiction is his autobiography, </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Mark It and Strike It</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (1960) and his book of reminiscences about his work on radio and TV, </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Hi-Ho, Steverino!</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (1992) (<a href="https://worldradiohistory.com/BOOKSHELF-ARH/Biography/Hi-Ho-Steverino-Allen-1992.pdf">which someone has posted a PDF of here</a>). The latter covers all of the TV work discussed below but gives short shrift to his 1968-72 talk show, in favor of several pages about a later prime-time one-shot special he worked called “Comedy Zone” that unraveled as it was being produced.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The biggest surprise about Allen as a writer was the ease with which he wrote fiction. The later nine mystery novels released under his name were ghostwritten (one of the bigger disappointments for a fan like myself who wanted to believe that Steve wrote all of his own work, whether or not it was compelling to read — and those mysteries were not at all compelling). But he published two novels in his lifetime and two early books of short stories (which were re-packaged with newer stories in 1990 and 1995).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicA4YAE_OwtJ9I2sdvIVjFHdmL-dMk3OmSJOj7M1DnMHkcjuWhzjKVxeZXaHiqKEOnqOdkWjjOsVmkWE3mxul6hHnuavzn_rvcgu3Oiv-Gq855ptpSRG-qAwXqQQLfGxPtZffZdz9mSudNVKBIpsQ_Bp5ODpeC2NSc1FtxfITEW7Ui9VDoay3GuvOCRQ=s1000" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="662" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicA4YAE_OwtJ9I2sdvIVjFHdmL-dMk3OmSJOj7M1DnMHkcjuWhzjKVxeZXaHiqKEOnqOdkWjjOsVmkWE3mxul6hHnuavzn_rvcgu3Oiv-Gq855ptpSRG-qAwXqQQLfGxPtZffZdz9mSudNVKBIpsQ_Bp5ODpeC2NSc1FtxfITEW7Ui9VDoay3GuvOCRQ=w133-h200" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As of this writing, I have read one of the two novels (</span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Not All of Your Laughter, Not All of Your Tears</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Wake</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> — which is perhaps a better memoir than his autobiography and contains a strikingly symbolic dream sequence) and have recently reread the two early collections of short stories (</span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Fourteen for Tonight</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Girls on the 10th Floor</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">). In reading these stories, one can sense that he wanted to break free of his “straight arrow” image, and so he wrote prose that frequently covered the darker sides of life. Sometimes the stories have O. Henry-esque “twist” endings, while others are simple vignettes that begin and end in medias res.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen always held himself back from using explicit language, but then again he could include “adult” elements, as he was seemingly writing to sell the stories to markets that existed in the Fifties — the mainstream magazines that primarily published fiction, men’s magazines (even some softcore pubs like </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Cavalier</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">), and family-oriented publications that would throw in a short story or poem if written by a celebrity.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNIN8722hdpmFVrqlUfpIgCssHRY7Ieeh9wUa9E7Y5US2celqoA2NQLOsKd-6Od5CJBWqEBe0Ve5xuIhcVzNllBI8ZM-2o8FuZjD_N8rDRN_Ol06Q2tGflzhFCocfwKmZEqkgjPOM3KoOgQHCLu7Ad3WGgZgR3msUR1c6tmD2-I6diE4cgcMH42-dIng=s499" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="343" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNIN8722hdpmFVrqlUfpIgCssHRY7Ieeh9wUa9E7Y5US2celqoA2NQLOsKd-6Od5CJBWqEBe0Ve5xuIhcVzNllBI8ZM-2o8FuZjD_N8rDRN_Ol06Q2tGflzhFCocfwKmZEqkgjPOM3KoOgQHCLu7Ad3WGgZgR3msUR1c6tmD2-I6diE4cgcMH42-dIng=w138-h200" width="138" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The most interesting thing about reading the short stories in the original 1950s collections is, most certainly, seeing which stories Steve chose not to reprint in his two later collections. Some of these are not very good (for instance, “Dialogue,” a piece where “He” and “She” have an afternoon at a no-tell motel and the man offers a disquisition on the Seven Deadly Sins) or they’re pretty far out for Steve and are actually very effective because he was “jumping off the cliff” (as in the creepy “Hello Again, Darling,” in which we read two letters from a fan who believes he’s having intimate communications with a TV star and keeps making sideways jokes about how much “fun” they’ll have when they meet — in this case, Allen’s avoidance of graphic language makes the letter-writer’s “jokes” even creepier).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">His most-anthologized short story is called “The Public Hating,” which is a piece of dystopic sci-fi that was published first in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Bluebook</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> magazine in Jan. 1955. Some critics have likened it to Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” in that both are disturbing tales of ritualized mass violence. Jackson’s tale is indeed a milestone in American short fiction, but “The Public Hating” (which grew out of Steve’s opposition to capital punishment) quickly and subtly creates an environment of menace by describing what seems like two men going to a sports stadium to attend a commonly held event, which quickly turns out not to be a game but is instead a ritual in which the public torments (and, it is implied, kills) a criminal through the force of their mass hatred of him. <a href="https://nyc3.digitaloceanspaces.com/sffaudio-usa/mp3s/ThePublicHatingBySteveAllen.pdf">You can read the story here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcuL3wdWfR-OUyiLyxFKHCUMLNvcSTezIEcQhQ_hyDqu0-_L3I3f7yMhxov3BY_y5slGsf0__kiMhr6yvKvcDZ4FkgTf0awL3_Z71REwc99T5_kdFgBhhhBPbPEMVGyq9F_UUDlx5dM4cgT-7VJwFLkSiLLxRxOAIcFBUx0NPyBPNC0lS3ZusH0BO9OQ=s242" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="180" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcuL3wdWfR-OUyiLyxFKHCUMLNvcSTezIEcQhQ_hyDqu0-_L3I3f7yMhxov3BY_y5slGsf0__kiMhr6yvKvcDZ4FkgTf0awL3_Z71REwc99T5_kdFgBhhhBPbPEMVGyq9F_UUDlx5dM4cgT-7VJwFLkSiLLxRxOAIcFBUx0NPyBPNC0lS3ZusH0BO9OQ=w149-h200" width="149" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This short story does reflect the dimensions of Allen’s talent and his desire to express his ideas in many different ways, moving beyond a funny sketch with kooky characters or a pop tune with a catchy melody. Although Mort Sahl was the first “egghead” comedian in nightclubs, Steve was the first eggheaded figure in TV comedy — a very smart and quick-witted gent whose interests went all over the map, but who could be incredibly silly when called upon to simply amuse a TV audience.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen rarely returned to fiction after the 1972 novel </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Wake</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">. He published a dozen new stories in later collections that repackaged the Fifties stories (“The Public Hating: a Collection of Short Stories” in 1990 and “The Man Who Turned Back the Clock and Other Stories” in 1995; one can’t be sure when he wrote the dozen new inclusions in these books).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It seems more than coincidental that he dropped fiction from his output when he began to dictate his books (into his ever-present tape recorders, which he used steadily for the last few decades of his life to assemble his books) rather than sitting and writing or typing out the work. (The urgency with which he wrote when typing out a piece is conveyed in the nonfiction obituary/essay “Joe Shulman Is Dead,” which he included in with his stories up through the Nineties collections.) At the time he began to verbally compose his books into a tape recorder, the “professorial” mode of his writing commenced — there was still emotion behind what he was writing, but the verbal experimentation and unusual tones he used in his short fiction was very much gone and an uncommonly precise (and grammatical) tone took over.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjL3skxiqg7fqQworWi0K9MXPy2-DdSUofeqS6_qnTlvYryl3yegaC1f2qoXCI4CVGWQejuMGEqpHydsJ8SBlOv6CmGkn4O1F9VsTso8chmegNWBSItIEP8L7JCQqjCuMicUnxAfgWUaUOnNhLPvyEVT61UboCYfHLBdVCct8UHXXufe0AR5gFYRWFQg=s600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjL3skxiqg7fqQworWi0K9MXPy2-DdSUofeqS6_qnTlvYryl3yegaC1f2qoXCI4CVGWQejuMGEqpHydsJ8SBlOv6CmGkn4O1F9VsTso8chmegNWBSItIEP8L7JCQqjCuMicUnxAfgWUaUOnNhLPvyEVT61UboCYfHLBdVCct8UHXXufe0AR5gFYRWFQg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This discussion about his writing underscores Allen’s singular position in TV history — an intellectual guy who also happened to be a very gifted comedian as well. He had no problem at all in performing slapstick but was on firmest ground comedically with deft word play. He also was the first late-night comedian to recommend to his audience various new books (both fiction and non-fiction) to read. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The sillier stunts he took on during his Westinghouse years can be linked to the games played currently by Fallon, Corden, Kimmel, and company, but his recommendations of books and inclusion of literary figures on both “Tonight” and his prime-time Sunday night variety series makes him the progenitor of Dick Cavett and the very few other “smart hosts” that American television has had in its nearly 75 years in existence.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">*****</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If someone wants to know who Steve Allen was, the best intro is probably the “Biography” episode about him, <a href="https://youtu.be/C4XFROzcs9k">which can be found here</a>. An invaluable trove of Allen’s TV shows is in the collection of the Paley Center, which can be visited in NYC and L.A. <a href="https://www.paleycenter.org/collection-2/CollectionSearchForm?Query=%22Steve+Allen%22&Category=all&Field=all&action_doSearch=Search&start=0">The database for the Center can be searched online</a> but, as with Vegas, what is viewed is the Center stays in the Center, and so if you don’t live in NYC or L.A., all one can say is Steve’s oft-spoken benediction, “Lotsa luck!”</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgut6xzca9i5YEBUjPL20_18HulNe9MAE1LPUFYrGHyWKJTuUZMwjOH1yrPjXZf8RtzeZ8n6xgLl4VQAHMIk-dm_0CZI_GiPnwkaGpuNXqHDej9sTK6isMlx3vIJg62fiTdfFtHjT4b-WomlBnviNm_f_wLBF0ivTvk5psWuK9mOzRNgVuF1lpK_2Nx8Q=s880" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="777" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgut6xzca9i5YEBUjPL20_18HulNe9MAE1LPUFYrGHyWKJTuUZMwjOH1yrPjXZf8RtzeZ8n6xgLl4VQAHMIk-dm_0CZI_GiPnwkaGpuNXqHDej9sTK6isMlx3vIJg62fiTdfFtHjT4b-WomlBnviNm_f_wLBF0ivTvk5psWuK9mOzRNgVuF1lpK_2Nx8Q=s320" width="283" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve and the first crop of<br />"Men on the Street."</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thankfully, rabid Allen fans with rather large video collections have stepped into the breach, so there are some examples of Steve’s incredibly fruitful first three decades on YouTube and other video sites. The revelation of seeing “young Steve” in the early Fifties shows up on YouTube is one of the great discoveries concerning Allen. He always had the specs on, but when he was younger and new to TV, he was also quieter, calmer, not given to creative wordplay, and extremely easygoing. (In his later years he retained the last trait, but after he became comfortable in the medium he was freer with his words and jokes — he moved quicker and talked a lot more.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">By the time he reached TV he had worked for several years on different radio shows. On radio shows with studio audiences he did work at a faster pace, perhaps because radio demanded more attention from the listener. Only a handful of his radio shows seem to have floated out into public domain. This particular one with guest Al Jolson features Steve at his inventive best, leaning on the wordplay but also trying to constantly engage the studio audience and keep the program moving along.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qeZIx2NFuIg" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The earliest example on YouTube of Steve “getting used” to TV is his guest appearance on “The Faye Emerson Show” in May of 1951 (when he is a mere 29 years old). He comes on to take part in a jokey discussion of “men’s fashion.” Emerson was the first woman to host a talk show on American TV; she was doing “girl talk” before Virginia Graham arrived on the scene to coin that phrase.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KquHYpOzGLY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The earliest Steve show that is currently on YT is a 1952 example of his CBS morning show. He is extremely low-key here, except when he acts out an Abbott and Costello-style comedy team bit with another actor. The guest star on this show is Miss Peggy Lee.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EbNUfoxIKN0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The next item is one of those revelations: a late-night show from Dec. 30, 1953, at which point Allen was doing locally in the NYC area the show that Pat Weaver eventually put on the network (and added numerous “special events” on satellite to) as "Tonight." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Again, the pacing is much slower than modern viewers are used to, but that only serves to make the proceedings more amiable and charming. Steve and Eydie perform (by this point they were a team on-air and off) and the “Droodles” creator Roger Price shows off his creations and discusses his philosophy of “avoidism.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-rUcEI-W64A" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The sponsor of Steve’s 45-minute nighttime NYC show (running from 11:15 p.m. to midnight), the Knickerbocker beer company, continued to be his sponsor as he started off “Tonight.” They in fact sponsored a mini-show (running 15 minutes) that was slated to run before “Tonight” — thus, those in NYC got a full hour and 45 minutes of Steve in the early days of this national experiment. Here, Steve notes the switchover, sings with Steve and Eydie, and welcomes Ink Spots singer Bill Kenny.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AeIBJst6evA" thetitle="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">While Steve was truly “hot” in the biz, he used one of his two nights off to appear on </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">What’s My Line?</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, establishing an interesting lineage in the “second male” spot — from Steve Allen to Fred Allen to Woody Allen. Yes, Steve and Fred were regulars and Woody was only on the panel a few times, but the “brilliant humorists named Allen” bit holds; that second male slot bounced back and forth among comedians (Buddy Hackett, Groucho), debonair movie stars (James Mason), Renaissance figures (Peter Ustinov), and up-and-comers (Peter Cook, Dick Cavett).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RB2A_tTQH1U" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And then came the big night. September 27, 1954 to exact — the first night of “Tonight,” the double-the-length, bigger-budgeted network version of Steve’s NYC-area late-night show. Nearly every episode of “Tonight” (preserved on kinescope) was destroyed by an NBC worker who “needed more shelf space” in a network facility. Thankfully, a few shows escaped this fiery end, including the debut episode.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Oddly, Weaver and his creative minds decided that Gene Rayburn should do a mini-newscast (including national weather) at midnight, thereby interrupting the flow of the show with dire news stories. (You’ll see here that on the first night the stories included one about Senator Joseph McCarthy and another about a man who killed his children — “now, back to Steve!”) Rayburn had come fresh off of working at WNEW-AM with Dee Finch — his slot was filled by Funhouse favorite Gene Klavan. And Steve himself went back to radio for a wonderful period in the late 1980s — on WNEW. (<a href="https://mediafunhouse.blogspot.com/2019/01/in-writers-room-steve-allen-radio-show.html">Which I wrote about at length in this blog entry.</a>) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The midnight news break was dropped a few months in.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CW4GXtJ_VgY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen noted on several occasions that Paar’s “Tonight” was more like the current version of late-night TV, with a panel for the duration. The 1980s and early ’90s iteration of Johnny Carson’s “Tonight” was actually the progenitor of the current mode: opening monologue, silly sketch, perhaps a kooky animal bit (later to be goofy game or taped piece), and then a succession of guests who come on to plug something. One musical number per show, placed wherever is best for plugs and/or commercial breaks.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Hi-Ho Steverino!</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> [pp 132-141], Allen noted that his “Tonight” included various types of specialty programming that were not done by his successors. He cites the examples of a pre-“Tonight” theme show he hosted on organized crime that aired on WNBT (the original WNBC) in the timeslot of his Knickerbocker NYC late-night show. Then he goes on to offer discuss the interesting topics covered on “Tonight.” Included is a show he did on the “Red Scare” in which Faye Emerson and TV critic John Crosby debated the head of AWARE (a “Commie”-hunting organization of the time) and the man who assembled </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Red Channels</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, the book that was used as a directory for TV producers of whom to hire and not hire.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhycz7bYgX32jMsgBtvCVt8_GxJYpHTUFKz7-Iro4QxqqNjg4Ef8OHvStphBSLhNyBKoU5Li0kPp52ym1JmkTGASx6Xt-a_7wN9aRybWy5by31YU-d283tDanZuNRp6g1i_8v7r4btdbGEW9Di50Mmm6y1h6Jc_lbGoly6JToNenfOvo86--fuIE_-8BQ=s1600" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="1600" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhycz7bYgX32jMsgBtvCVt8_GxJYpHTUFKz7-Iro4QxqqNjg4Ef8OHvStphBSLhNyBKoU5Li0kPp52ym1JmkTGASx6Xt-a_7wN9aRybWy5by31YU-d283tDanZuNRp6g1i_8v7r4btdbGEW9Di50Mmm6y1h6Jc_lbGoly6JToNenfOvo86--fuIE_-8BQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the NYC-aired late-night<br />"Steve Allen Show" on WNBT.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Given Allen’s bibliophilic tendencies, one of the most important things he continued to do on his shows was to promote new books. I mention below an example of how he got quick plugs for new books into the goings-on on his late Fifties prime-time variety show, but he began doing these segments talking about new books on “Tonight” and kept on doing them through his two later syndicated series. Not plugs for books written by authors he was having on the show, mind you — just books he thought the average viewer should seek out in bookshops. Again, the “egghead” in Steve was able to coexist with the zany humorist and professional entertainer. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This prime-time special version of “Tonight” from Nov. 9, 1954, has a novelty pairing of a song and a related sketch, a comedy bit by Kaye Ballard, and Steve doing his “Letters to the Editor” bit (where he emphasized the “outrage” that drove the newspaper letters column — that same emotion drives a whole lot of TV and Net-programming today). And Paul Winchell and Jerry Mahoney!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6CRZ5dH7ToM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This clip is undated, but clearly seems to come from either the NYC Knickerbocker show or the first months of “Tonight.” Steve is in his vest-wearing mellow mode and his guest in this instance is the film archivist Paul Killiam, doing a deadpan standup act, in which he delivered a “lecture” of some kind or other that was illustrated by one of the many silents he collected. His jokes are fairly decent, but it’s the “mixed media” nature of his act that is the most interesting aspect.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cuYKgDsgavw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This “Tonight” show does seem similar to today’s Fallon incarnation of the show, as the whole affair becomes a big table-tennis competition with guests Zsa Zsa Gabor and Jose Ferrer. Where this differs from the current “Tonight” is that Steve was hosting in a very laid back, late-night mood (whereas Fallon seems caffeine-(or something-else-)charged every single night).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cC495IrUfoE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Amazing segment from another “Tonight” episode, this time from 1955. Martin and Lewis were sick of each other by this point but could still play nice for the cameras. Here they are interviewed via satellite by Steve. It’s a great slice of show-business history, especially if you keep in mind that Steve argues in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Funny Men</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> (in 1956) that M&L couldn’t split up because, in essence, viewers needed Dean’s laid-back charm to counter Jerry’s high-energy comedy. (Little did Steve know how things were boiling over at that point….)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4MqN0wT6UZI" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The last hiding-in-plain sight Allen “Tonight” show is a January 1956 episode shot when the “Tonight” company was in Miami. It’s still laid back, with Steve having to cover for various segments not working or not being ready. A comedian buried by the sands of time gets an ample amount of screen time and, yes, some goofy games are played. (Steve often lamented that the “Tonight” episodes were destroyed, because he clearly wanted viewers to see the variety of things the show covered — instead here we have bicycle races over a pool.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vBEKFL8r7xM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the nicer, mellower bits from “Tonight” that somehow was preserved is this clip of Steve playing with a new walking, talking doll for little girls, and singing the song “Love Thy Neighbor” with Skitch Henderson on piano.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I had asked the poster of this way back on MySpace (yes, antediluvian times) where he had found this clip and he noted that he was posting things for Bill Morrison, the delightful “Balloonman” who had been on Steve’s 1968-’72 syndicated show a few times. Morrison’s act consisted of making very complicated structures with balloons and being incredibly deadpan. I’ll link to one of the later clips below, but here is Steve on “Tonight” — in a clip that Allen himself gifted to Morrison for use on his public access show. (<a href="https://youtu.be/lkUWPvKHkco">Their interview is also up on YT.</a></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QPwRo0YTTe4" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The second episode of Steve’s prime-time Sunday night variety show (which ran from ’56-’60, before it bounced to other nights on another network) was truly historic, as it featured Elvis in his third appearance on TV. (Steve booked him after he had done Jimmy Dorsey and Berle’s shows, but before Ed Sullivan did.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The show offers an excellent example of “cluttered” variety. Steve was opposite Sullivan, so it was clearly mandated that he host this show at a much quicker pace, with multiple acts being thrown at the viewer in rapid succession. As of this show he became a solid sketch comedian, working with a great ensemble of second bananas (nearly all of whom seemed to reach sitcom nirvana in their later careers) and a bigger group of comedy writers. (He had exactly two, Stan Burns and Herb Sargent, for “Tonight.”)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There is a lot of music and comedy here, but it’s all a preamble to Elvis. Steve and his producers softened the already-established Presley image by having him appear in a tuxedo and sing to a hound dog, then appear in a “country” sketch that wouldn’t have been out of place 15 years later on “Hee-Haw.” It’s certainly TV history, but it’s not great Elvis and it’s not really good Allen.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JjPFfYIp13Y" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">By the summer of ’56 Steve was much more comfortable as a prime-time comedian/host, as is evident in this live “remote” bit from his July 22nd show. He was very intent on throwing the things that made “Tonight” so beloved by its viewers at his prime-time audience (within sponsor/network parameters), and so an eight-minute segment from Birdland with Count Basie and his band was not out of the question.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1_yB-Dn6FiE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">From the same show, Steve again in Times Square, this time to introduce the Four Lads doing “Standin’ on the Corner” while standing on (well, what else) a corner. A delightfully corny, un-p.c. song acted out in a neat little slice of NYC silliness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/X7MQpzYFAoo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Some last-minute items turned up as I was finishing this piece. One of them was this full episode from March 7, 1957, of the Sunday night prime-time show, a program that answers the musical question, “Was Floyd the Barber ever a “Man on the Street’?” Yes, he was, as this episode was shot in L.A. and apparently Don Knotts and Tom Poston stayed in NYC. Thus, we have three people in a “Man” bit — Louis Nye, Belle Montrose (Steve’s mom, a veteran of vaudeville), and Howard McNear, later to play Floyd on “The Andy Griffith Show.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There are three musical acts on this show: Peggy Lee, Tennessee Ernie Ford, and rockabilly faves the Collins Kids. There are two comedy segments, but it’s more of a musical show — in addition to the musical guests performing, Steve does a live remote from the top of the Capitol Records building, where he plays piano and monkeys around with an actress who was cast as “Jane” in that year’s latest version of “Tarzan.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A unique segment occurs in the middle of the show: Dinah Shore (whose show followed Steve’s on Sunday nights) receives an award for “Mother of the Year” from “the Westwood chapter of the City of Hope.” This is most interesting in light of a short story Allen wrote called “The Award,” where he lays out the flimsiness of most awards given to big celebrities as being publicity events for the organizations who have created the awards.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He discusses this directly in an interview he did on Mike Wallace’s show, where Wallace mentions the short story and asks Steve to talk about whether or not he thinks awards are “meaningless gimmicks thought up by promotion men.” <a href="https://youtu.be/VnZZ4aeVxwM?t=1104">That discussion can be found here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nb9JPXRI8Ks" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Steve was not a fan of rock music. But in the Fifties on his prime-time show and in the late Sixties on his syndicated talk show, he did have rock acts booked. And despite his antipathy for the genre, rock ’n’ roll fit perfectly with the more anarchic side of his humor. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here, among other elements, we have the great Louis Nye, already taglined into fame with his “Hi-Ho, Steverino!” Mad Man character Gordon Hathaway, being spoofed by Jerry Lewis. But the best time-capsule element for a show airing on June 2, ’57 had to be the Diamonds doing their big hit “Little Darlin’” The song was a spoof itself (of doo-wop and rock ’n’roll stagework), so it fits in beautifully with the comedy on the show.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">By this point Steve had left “Tonight” for good, concentrating his attention on the Sunday night prime-time show.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lsphOdM2M7g" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another frantically paced show, this time with a staple of Steve’s prime-time show that was not frantically paced (and would never have been tolerated after the mid-Sixties), a “gone wrong” sketch, in which we see an entire scene played correctly, with no laughs at all, and then we see it again with all kinds of foul-ups, creating laughs. (Here it’s a musical number sung by Martha Raye.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/k-cVOayUFCQ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen had people on his shows that other mainstream programs avoided like the plague. One of those guests was the groundbreaker, the one and only Lenny Bruce. Steve had him on his show three times. (The third can only be seen at the Paley Center — because it never aired. But it is not as radically weird or off-putting as Steve describes it in his </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Funny People</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> chapter on Lenny.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Lenny was able to stay (somewhat) family-friendly in the two appearances he made on the Sunday night prime-time show but snuck in some weird content (in this case his famous “sniffing airplane glue to get high” bit). He also does a serious bit (which was rather poorly imitated on the “Mrs Maisel” show). It’s a landmark piece of TV, because it was Steve bringing on a performer who was literally rewriting the definition of standup comedy as he performed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/G3QgxmiBfNY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Probably the best example of the Allen prime-time show’s mix of elements, this episode from Nov. 15, ’59, was the one where Steve introduced Jack Kerouac to a family TV audience. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrtvgxsdYUQXBkwS99BDfK4jLto_MCemb_SP5p2OWt_yysed-2_dy_70wENzlrML0IvnMHC-Un8J3JWu0qs6EZz7aPdga87vEuTJXipj_VgPW5vMJdeaf3RnA2cJYTfJMWUDv8EYRty1DouCPrTVUsbAZXbtRvQssRkEwy06-LYlPRC3x2R_wRNe8L_g=s1300" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrtvgxsdYUQXBkwS99BDfK4jLto_MCemb_SP5p2OWt_yysed-2_dy_70wENzlrML0IvnMHC-Un8J3JWu0qs6EZz7aPdga87vEuTJXipj_VgPW5vMJdeaf3RnA2cJYTfJMWUDv8EYRty1DouCPrTVUsbAZXbtRvQssRkEwy06-LYlPRC3x2R_wRNe8L_g=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The show is seen here in vibrant (and sometimes garish) color, containing a really entertaining mix of elements: two Frankie Laine songs bookending the program; “Crazy Shots” (a collection of quick surreal joke-shots, a la Kovacs); a sketch involving Steve’s ensemble of great comic actors as scientists; Steve promotes two recently released books – the paperback version of </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Exodus</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> and </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Gentlemen, Scholars and Scoundrels</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, a collection of pieces from </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Harper’s</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> magazine; a “girl singer” (of which there seem to have been an endless parade on Steve’s show – and many other Fifties hosts); a sketch mocking family sitcoms, starring William Bendix; “The Question Man” (the “questions supplied for answers” bit that Carson stole for Carnac); and Kerouac reading his work while Steve accompanied him on piano (really pretty radical for Fifties TV — right up there with the two Lenny Bruce appearances). </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Perhaps the best complete Allen show one can find (currently) on YouTube.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qxdjYS8XoO8" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A wonderful musical spoof of Frankenstein films from that same Plymouth-sponsored last season on NBC (from the Jan. 11, 1960, episode). “Sweet Mystery of Life” is used 14 years before </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Young Frankenstein</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">! Mannequins used in scenes of violence! (So ridiculous I always find it funny.) Jayne Meadows makes an excellent “Wife” of the monster! The always-great Louis Nye makes a great singing monster! (And the burgomaster is Gabe Dell, not Pat Harrington Jr, as is indicated on the posting.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gbruN5gbqEw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The very last thing I found while assembling this piece was the full episode from which the above was taken. It’s from the Plymouth season and the show features an interesting array of items, with the Frankenstein skit standing as the only piece of scripted comedy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Tony Bennett performs at the opening and close of the episode, doing a great medley at the end. A comedian named Caroline Richter performs a character piece (of a woman who is talking to her husband after he’s shot her at a nightclub — definitely an odd premise). After a song from singer Monica Zetterlund, the Frankenstein bit appears. Then Steve does 15 minutes of shtick with the studio audience (dispensing very large salamis — seemingly over 3 feet long — to the “good sports” who talk to him). The show closes out with Tony, a mere stripling of 33 at the time. <a href="https://youtu.be/qSa9PZXJ3tw">The full show can be seen here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">An interesting tidbit from that same season — Allen’s last on NBC for the prime-time series — is on the archive.org site. Steve says he wanted to know what his viewers were talking about, and so we hear a couple’s reaction to the opening of his show on the soundtrack. Another instance in which Steve joined Ernie Kovacs in that amazing space where TV comedy decided to mess with the medium itself. <a href="https://archive.org/details/SteveAllenPlymouthIntro/Steve+Allen+Plymouth_intro.mov">From May 16, 1960 — click here.</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpEndPkBZutU5uxXPp5wQtR2HpIeuPTw9iADoc_uUFm4R-n-gI-fYk8WT74Qsg1P14-7Yv9ZjqRhI-3P1y5PxNWOGB0bcxW1ghEWJd8fwkBkqXv4wmgNKYu7DsHBUILBzcJrKP_QtezGUCx0FblypHn3WO5DhFCPc-oSYeCcdAzm8gMm_dhUSrbDKNwg=s1153" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="782" data-original-width="1153" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpEndPkBZutU5uxXPp5wQtR2HpIeuPTw9iADoc_uUFm4R-n-gI-fYk8WT74Qsg1P14-7Yv9ZjqRhI-3P1y5PxNWOGB0bcxW1ghEWJd8fwkBkqXv4wmgNKYu7DsHBUILBzcJrKP_QtezGUCx0FblypHn3WO5DhFCPc-oSYeCcdAzm8gMm_dhUSrbDKNwg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The network speaks. An interview about the <br />"New" Steve Allen Show in 1961:<br />"... I don't propose to do any <i>Meeting of Minds</i><br />or recommend any more books."<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Christmas show for “The New Steve Allen Show,” which ran in prime time in the fall of 1961 on ABC. Steve had a new roster of sidekicks (including Tom Conway, who later changed his professional name to Tim Conway, Buck Henry, Joey Forman and the Smothers Brothers). Here we see a very tired Steve host a TV Xmas party at his house (and play an even more tired Santa).</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1Y_HkYa1kkQ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We arrive finally at the syndicated show that took Steve away from sketch comedy and back to hosting a talk show with all kinds of odd comedy interludes. On his Westinghouse show (which lasted from 1962 to 1964) he performed a series of wild, daredevil stunts that are at odds with the rest of his comedy, but which appealed to young viewers like Andy Kaufman, Steve Martin, and David Letterman (<a href="https://youtu.be/E1a5veXNiFU">who later acknowledged his debt to Steve and the Westinghouse show</a>).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He also began doing a series of prank phone calls with celebrity guests (which were later released on two LPs) and refined an older bit he had done on “Tonight,” where he would have a camera pointed out on the street and made comments about passersby.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This particular episode opens with a stunt — which goes perfectly, but does indeed a weirdly life-threatening aspect to it. Steve engages in some flagpole sitting for a time (during which he makes a prank phone call — but is figured out to be Steve Allen) and then does a regular show in the studio. I’m assuming he shot the studio stuff before the flagpole stunt, as he makes only one mention of the flagpole business in passing — you’d think he would’ve reflected back on what it was like to be stuck up there when safely back in the studio.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The show gives two very solid musical moments, supplied by Slim Gaillard and Barbara McNair, and two oddball segments that belonged specifically to the Westinghouse period. The first finds Steve checking out the contents of Mexican jumping beans on-air, and the second involves a babe in a teddy who is serving as “Miss Measure Your Mattress Month.” The bit seems to be aimed to get the sexy young lady to interact with Steve on a bed, but instead becomes gleefully childlike as the Allen camera and sound crew end up leaving their posts and jumping onto the beds. It’s a very different kind of Steve Allen show compared to the calm early Fifties series, “Tonight,” and the super-slick Sunday night prime-time variety show.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/58Ug78VKWmk" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Westinghouse shows reportedly all exist and are in the archive of a university — which one I couldn’t determine from online searches, but Steve did mention this in one interview. One wishes, of course, that the public had ready access to them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">On Aug 13, 1963, Steve was host to Kyu Sakamoto, the Japanese pop star who had a No. 1 hit in America with “Sukiyaki.” A snippet of his performance of the song, and Steve speaking to him afterward (with English subs!) are seen here. Kyu’s translator was his mother. (He was a kid of 21 when he had a massive international hit song.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gwY_lg5Uh3E" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here Steve speaks to Peter Sellers about </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Dr. Strangelove</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, focusing in on the way Sellers created the voice for the title character.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0yWn_8SUWtg" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The Westinghouse show was known for its oddball humor segments, but Allen did still conduct interviews and have guests answer questions from the audience. Here, the Greatest came on to do his shtick and put down Sonny Liston. (Given that he keeps announcing the fight will happen soon, one assumes this is before the first bout, which took place in February of 1964.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/pPqNbiRusB0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another rarity — the Rivingtons on the Westinghouse show in Feb of ’64.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/u3j4Xcu5NHY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And the Rivingtons do their anthemic song (ripped off by “Surin’ Bird”) for Steve.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JaEfi4ZRLRE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Just a few of the stunts Allen did on the Westinghouse show.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i5JZ_CXxyT0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Steve discontinued the Westinghouse show for a network gig, hosting “I’ve Got a Secret.” He returned to doing his own style of comedy for a summer series in 1967. Here Steve, Jayne, Louis Nye, Dayton Allen (doing his terrific Groucho), and Paul Lynde do a spoof of “The Taming of the Shrew,” in response to the Taylor and Burton film released in ’67.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mxvk3kEgBFw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of Allen’s best-remembered sketches, and one that qualifies as the first satire of TV telethons, is “The Prickly Heat Telethon.” The sketch appeared on his summer ’67 show and it can’t be a simple coincidence that it aired in the year after Jerry Lewis’ Telethon for MDA made its national bow. (Jerry had done TV events for MDA in the Fifties and did local TV telethons in the early Sixties, seen only in California.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The sketch finds comedian “Steve Maudlin” (a decade before “SCTV”’s brilliant “Sammy Maudlin Show” talk show take-downs!) playing friendly at the outset but getting nastier and nastier as the hours wear on and there are no big donations. Jayne plays an airheaded singer, John Byner does a terrific turn as a classic hack comedian (“Lenny Jackie”), and Allen regulars Louis Nye and Dayton Allen show up as a deli owner who is catering the show and a doctor who treats patients with prickly heat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The sketch is a long one, running over 20 minutes, and was one Steve was quite proud of, as he went on to include it in not one but two of his humor collections (</span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Schmock-Schmock!</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> and </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Make ’Em Laugh</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">). It is terrific, it does prefigure a bunch of things “SCTV” later did (they definitely learned from the best), and it adds a note that no other humorist came up with — the fact that the host and guests on this telethon will be appearing on other telethons in the months to follow!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/No6ki7iUVYY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Steve’s next, and sadly last, regular talk show was a syndicated one that aired from 1968 to ’72. This was my first exposure to Steve as a very young kid, and the show seemed magically weird and wonderfully silly. As I look at bits from it now, it seems hampered by a *very* low budget, but it did introduce me to the Allen world of comedy, so I’m grateful for that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The series seems to have been “wiped” for the most part. This is very strange, since Fifties shows were gotten rid of regularly, but during the Sixties and afterwards, items with major stars were kept around — if not by the networks or sponsors, then by the performers themselves. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggx9-LWn9HdyahgIJgbJZ1wRXxuu5zZ30rJjh7_LgyTOLgclNIaqwtQpOc_z45FlIT2EsNwGOx91jg92Hb2F1wCk31zh9bSW2atP3jQOIW_kwIjPS8-bDLp_d-9_0e7WMEyM1DNPFaZy-5qO2_rDhxPWj7s1g2zsfBLzF6iTsJnj63_vtwBblMpdWICQ=s550" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="550" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggx9-LWn9HdyahgIJgbJZ1wRXxuu5zZ30rJjh7_LgyTOLgclNIaqwtQpOc_z45FlIT2EsNwGOx91jg92Hb2F1wCk31zh9bSW2atP3jQOIW_kwIjPS8-bDLp_d-9_0e7WMEyM1DNPFaZy-5qO2_rDhxPWj7s1g2zsfBLzF6iTsJnj63_vtwBblMpdWICQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lost to history? Louise Lasser, Woody Allen,<br />and Steve on the syndicated. show in 1971.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But Allen notes in his chapter on Steve Martin in his book </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">More Funny People</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> that this series was destroyed by the sponsor, which is awful. (The same “disappearing act” happened with the show that cemented my interest in Steve, a mid-Seventies syndicated series called “Laugh Back,” on which Steve would show clips from his old shows and do new bits with the people who appeared in the old kinescopes.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thus, every bit we have of the ’68-’72 show is a little bit of history. Here we see the opening of this low-budget effort, with guest Jack Carter and Steve displaying one of his strongest suits: doing shtick with the studio audience.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KQ4XN-ICCdA" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A wonderfully historic little bit of footage, this clip shows Mel Brooks promoting his first film, </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">The Producers</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, on the Allen show. Steve was instrumental in getting Brooks and Reiner to record the “2000 Year Old Man” LPs and was a booster of Mel’s work from the beginning (as Steve never stopped raving about the work done by Sid Caesar’s writers).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/e189RZfnWDc" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen did have rock acts on this last syndicated talk show series. In fact, he had the band labelled “the loudest band in the world” (per the </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Guinness Book of World Records</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">), Blue Cheer, on in 1968. They performed two songs (“Out of Focus” and their amazingly raucous cover of “Summertime Blues”) and Steve interviewed them. This appearance has mostly circulated via cassettes of the audio recorded off the TV set (I got one of these from Funhouse viewer and bassist supreme Jeff Magnum, of the Dead Boys); now clearer versions of the two songs exist and have been put out on a collection of live tracks from the band. Those tracks are “locked up” on YouTube and can only be accessed if you subscribe to something called Music Choice. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Since I have no intention of giving YT money that won’t go to the artists directly, I will instead offer the old-school taped-off-TV version of the interview segment where Steve asks the band about their overpowering sound. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Tjahpq0INqo" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now, it’s time for “Balloonman”! Bill Morrison (link above of him interviewing Steve on public access) is seen here doing his mega-deadpan balloon-animal act on the late Sixties syndicated show. Morrison’s deadpan patter is enhanced here by great (trippy) names for his balloon feats; the best one is “Broken Dream Release.” (Steve’s outfit is nearly as trippy as that trick name.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dUeHnYrQR0Q" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And now for a slightly more famous deadpan comedian. Bob Einstein comes on the syndicated Allen show in character to discuss his career as a football player who encounters incredible violence on the field. Not only was this not seen in the recent HBO doc on Einstein (which felt there was a dire need to explain deadpan humor to those who didn’t understand how it works), but it was not even mentioned that Einstein made regular appearances on Steve’s show in character. (And then later showed up on Allen’s late Eighties radio show, on which Einstein got many a “bell” for doing questionable jokes — which left Steve in stitches.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Bob’s brother Albert Brooks also guested on the ’68-’72 Allen show as a mime who can’t stop talking, but you’ll have to see that episode at the Paley Center.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SSnGb5KOxwU" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">In the late Seventies came the most unusual and gratifying moment for Allen — the airing of “Meeting of Minds” for four seasons of six shows each. The show was an idea he had that he wanted to do for the first time on his Sunday night prime-time variety show (another example of his broadly eclectic definition of “variety”). The sponsors did not want him to do it, presumably for reasons of pacing but also because, as he notes in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Hi-Ho Steverino</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">, he had Nat Hentoff assemble the thoughts of different philosophers about capital punishment. Since Allen himself noted publicly his disapproval of the execution of Caryl Chessman, the sponsor felt that “Meeting” would be anti-capital punishment propaganda.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen waited a few years and finally got to do “Meeting of Minds” on his Westinghouse show in 1964. He notes in </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Steverino</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> that the episode aired without a hitch — he thought — until he discovered that the only mail he was getting about it was from viewers in California. He then learned that the show aired on none of the other syndication stations, as the distributor pulled it from the line-up.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguF1pI2wvt_P8i95dXDr2VLhX1SZyLVGlFb5uDSNM3LgFrHmAakhbFaGqgBs68i5puNIFBNN6VVCg9EU0bLux7q1XjUoIPjdAiqPfViyBd9DwCMj4KVBgpE9qaFSa5V0BkXxemuUdH1WZVG0-yU98-gN1xfVaIgxVVzmmfkqSxs-e_vslCcckM0vRMbA=s1344" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1344" data-original-width="978" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguF1pI2wvt_P8i95dXDr2VLhX1SZyLVGlFb5uDSNM3LgFrHmAakhbFaGqgBs68i5puNIFBNN6VVCg9EU0bLux7q1XjUoIPjdAiqPfViyBd9DwCMj4KVBgpE9qaFSa5V0BkXxemuUdH1WZVG0-yU98-gN1xfVaIgxVVzmmfkqSxs-e_vslCcckM0vRMbA=s320" width="233" /></a></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He did “Meeting” again on his ’68-’72 syndicated show in 1971, and that episode (which aired throughout the country) did so well, winning three Emmys, that he financed a full six-episode season himself in the mid-Seventies that led to PBS paying for the second through fourth seasons of the show. (The show aired on PBS from 1977 to ’81.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The show might seem a bit unusual in this day and age, when one can readily refer to works by historic figures on the Internet in a few seconds. But “Meeting” was indeed both educational and entertaining, as Allen liked to pit figures with different opinions from different eras and different countries against each other in conversation and debate.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This viewer found the show riveting as a teen and wound up reading works about and by some of the guests. Hey, Steve’s fantasy guest roster included everyone from Plato and Socrates to Bertrand Russell and the Marquis de Sade!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The scripts for the show were released in book and audiotape form; only four of the 24 shows were made available in a home-video format (VHS), but now, thanks to another intrepid YT poster, we can finally see a round eight of the shows instantly. I would advise not watching the two about Shakespeare’s characters first — those episodes were an experiment that I don’t believe worked. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here is the first episode of the series:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hKRxZSOqAYw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Now we reach the final chapter in Allen’s TV career. Thanks to a YouTube poster named “TGmovier,” who is either related to the great vibes player Terry Gibbs (still with us at 97!) or is his biggest fan, we have the three final series that Steve hosted. The first one was his last variety show, “The Steve Allen Comedy Hour” from 1980, which aired as a set of six “specials.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The nicest discovery here is that Steve hadn’t lost any of his energy and comic invention. The show found him returning to some of his strong suits, such as providing comic commentary on people in the streets outside the theater and writing comic songs (for a piece he did in various formats over the years, his parody of </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well...</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> called </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Seymour Glick Is Alive But Sick</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;">).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjo--z3Mv5gJAr-WaHoZg746njyCasry5oSvFg5uirTx5tGTVw3SPFgrsByA59ICgI0ll1dK2ESHtc8iuwxUeZLqLbFDfx0xZakvr4BWmohyNcfcd2HRGw2vElTmATze6eTpBoBrKvWXP9h1jL7ehk2RtoFuGdmwPjM7AzAcemckrrifyAX4BeEP80hww=s1361" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1259" data-original-width="1361" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjo--z3Mv5gJAr-WaHoZg746njyCasry5oSvFg5uirTx5tGTVw3SPFgrsByA59ICgI0ll1dK2ESHtc8iuwxUeZLqLbFDfx0xZakvr4BWmohyNcfcd2HRGw2vElTmATze6eTpBoBrKvWXP9h1jL7ehk2RtoFuGdmwPjM7AzAcemckrrifyAX4BeEP80hww=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An Allen Xmas card.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">He also still had a sharp eye for comic talent. Sure, some of the brilliantly funny people seen on the show had already been “discovered” by 1980 — Steve Martin, Bill Saluga, Catherine O’Hara, Steve Landesberg, impressionist Joe Baker, Billy Crystal, and Martin Mull among them — but Steve was wise to get them all together and let them create their own material. (O’Hara gets a writing credit for her “Person on the Street” appearance in the first show, and Mull, an all-time Funhouse favorite, created his own vignette for a new song he wrote.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Allen also showcased new talent in this show, including the comic actress Doris Hess, and two performers who became better known for their work as writers on sitcoms, Nancy Steen and Tom Leopold. And since Steve never forgot the people of his own generation who were comic pros, Jackie Mason, Bob and Ray, Kaye Ballard, and the wonderful one-man army that was Jonathan Winters also got choice bits in these six shows. Here is the second episode of the series, featuring Mull’s musical number, a crazy news segment, Steve “narrating” life on the street, and a </span><i style="font-family: helvetica;">Seymour Glick...</i><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> medley.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bZ-88MeWVOQ" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Two series that aired on the Disney Channel for very limited runs are also on the TGmovier YT account. The first is “Steve Allen’s Music Room” from 1983, a series in which Steve talked to singers and musicians and then just let them do their thing. Guests included Steve and Eydie, Paul Williams, Joe Williams, Rosemary Clooney, Lou Rawls, Melba Moore, Henry Mancini, Dizzy Gillespie, Patti Page, and Doc Severinsen. A young standup named Bill Maher was Steve’s cohost for this six-episode series.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JEMQRIS-1DY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thankfully, there was a comic equivalent of the preceding called, naturally, enough “Steve Allen’s Comedy Room.” This six-episode series (also tucked away on the Disney Channel) aired in 1984 and featured a solid line-up of older comedians, and comic actors.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The guests included Sid Caesar, Shecky Green, Mort Sahl, Jack Carter, Dick Shawn, Louis Nye, George Gobel, Shelley Berman, Red Buttons, Danny Thomas, Jan Murray, Bob Newhart, Harvey Korman, Tim Conway, Pat Harrington, Milton Berle, and Carl Reiner. Billy Crystal was thrown in with the older panel guests, while a younger standup comedian performed each week; that group included Bill Maher and Franklyn Ajaye. (Who by this time had been working for about a decade.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">This is the first episode of the series, featuring Shecky Greene, Mort Sahl, and the mighty Sid Caesar. And yes, this was sadly the last time that Steve hosted a comedy series on TV.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9YvF1kjpIn0" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If you’ve gotten this far in this piece, I will close out with two clips that show the two sides of Steve Allen. The first is a true rarity that I’d never heard of before its posting on YouTube. It’s a 1961 documentary made for Chicago TV that shows Steve going “Home Again,” investigating various places he remembered in Chicago from his childhood and adolescence.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The program is low-key, with soft music and shots of Steve in different urban locations. He opens the show with a seven-minute monologue about his childhood — his family history, him growing up in poverty, being transplanted from one place to the next, and return trips to Chicago as an adult that left him “depressed.” It is this side of Steve — the contemplative, low-key gentleman — that connects us both to the mellow host of the early Fifties series and the short stories where he took on different “voices.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It’s somewhat like a therapy session, this visit, and at the end he delivers another monologue about how he came to finally embrace his hometown, noticing people’s Chicago accents when he was in another city, and dealing with his own past. He starts the show saying that one can’t go home again, but closes it out by saying “You can visit but you can’t stay.” For those who are interested in Steve Allen the man, I’d have to say this is the best representation of his quiet side, the “eggheaded,” overgrown young man who developed into a famous TV comedian but clearly worked for many years to pave over having grown up poor and transient.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/s7VMs9WdEF4" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And because the preceding was solemn and quietly emotional and eloquent, I have to follow it with this, the most-excerpted clip in Steve Allen’s career, the time he broke up seeing himself on the monitor as he played sportscaster “Big Bill Allen.” It’s entirely possible to remember Allen both as the serious soul who appears in “Home Again” and this guy, shrieking with laughter, making us all laugh in the process.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aESyuydxirc" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
And since this entry is bursting at the seams with clips, why not (sayeth Steve sidekick Dayton Allen) end with this clip (which unfortunately looks murky as hell), showing Steve and his guests for one Sunday night prime-time show singing on the move from the Allen set (this when the show was “on the road” in L.A.) to Dinah Shore’s set, located what seems like several city blocks away. This was the transition from the end of Steve's show to the opener of Dinah's on the night of Feb. 9, 1958.<br /><br />The Sinatra on display is an impersonator, if you couldn’t tell, but the other guests are Ann Sothern, Steve and Eydie, and Dinah herself. The song? Why, Steve’s best-known tune, his signature piece, and the only pop song you’ll ever hear (prove me wrong!) that mentions buying a fig…. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src=" https://www.youtube.com/embed/05pU6l4PEJw" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Thanks to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/adf3comcast1/videos">Anthony DiFlorio</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/c/CoughHiccup/videos">“CoughHiccup,”</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/TGmovier/videos">“TGmovier”</a> for their YT posts. Also, Jerry Moore at <a href="http://www.mindsnackbooks.com/humor/steve_allen.html">Mind Snack Books</a> who has an excellent page on Steve’s books here (URL), and author Will Friedwald, who celebrated Steve’s centennial in one of his weekly “Clip Joint” video presentations back in early 2021. (<a href="https://www.subscribepage.com/m9g1w2">Get the weekly Clip Joint email here.</a>)</span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5550868480663112358.post-84398678077206335042021-12-24T17:28:00.020-05:002021-12-25T00:40:07.218-05:00A ‘Christmas’ series of British horror films that can be watched any time of the year<p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghhfGX3fBfX2rkzzQW7g5QjVPgPLEYS9Bly2UMprjjehfXH-JNoxe8Hwy7SQqGWtUEY6Z3W53_bNon5QFvbjBnqcHPxVZADnnSxR2KasoboZN8w9hcX1JbRSwxR-RSGNgpXUA1CDcqppS7-ognLToZ2cn3gGtNYxPfDkv0tBjHC-95fkk-xKGcWLw7OQ=s300" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghhfGX3fBfX2rkzzQW7g5QjVPgPLEYS9Bly2UMprjjehfXH-JNoxe8Hwy7SQqGWtUEY6Z3W53_bNon5QFvbjBnqcHPxVZADnnSxR2KasoboZN8w9hcX1JbRSwxR-RSGNgpXUA1CDcqppS7-ognLToZ2cn3gGtNYxPfDkv0tBjHC-95fkk-xKGcWLw7OQ=w200-h112" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Lost Hearts" (1973.)</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the finest filmic discoveries I had this year came thanks to a festival at the invaluable Anthology Film Archives, which finally reopened its doors after many months of being closed — the posters for a “Satanic panic” festival that I had attended several times in Feb of 2020 were on display outside the theater for a long 17 months. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">AFA is a paradise for those who enjoy avant-garde films and deep-dives into underseen auteurs from Europe and elsewhere. But it also has featured some very enlightening programs of genre films. This past Halloween the theater did a festival of “folk horror” spawned by the documentary <i>Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror</i> by Kier-La Janisse. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The doc is terrific but takes the concept of folk horror in several different directions, meaning it actually should be a lot longer than its 195 minutes (which one should go through with a notebook in hand to write down the titles of intriguing films that are mentioned quickly and impress via startling images). In this era of unnaturally bloated docs, <i>Woodlands</i> is rare in that regard; one hopes that there is more of it to be seen when it is released by Severin Films on disc next month. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqe2o4_LzvLlrlL3sWOtIhVIEn7FJq2hDNAzRAi3yfX-hjdobzFSNWZCES_KFlrk8lxearMKVLvz6wL7LbL2GWsVuUbiHLBI2GYCkDxtPadeDkSQkK8PxOImea9vtn--GwfMvESao8TGoLbtfaKvtgJs9mZFmDFehu6ayCQJxB65U0DKZJLPTyAkLdqQ=s650" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="650" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjqe2o4_LzvLlrlL3sWOtIhVIEn7FJq2hDNAzRAi3yfX-hjdobzFSNWZCES_KFlrk8lxearMKVLvz6wL7LbL2GWsVuUbiHLBI2GYCkDxtPadeDkSQkK8PxOImea9vtn--GwfMvESao8TGoLbtfaKvtgJs9mZFmDFehu6ayCQJxB65U0DKZJLPTyAkLdqQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Wicker Man" (1973).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The doc is broken down into different segments, but it primarily covers three areas: The first is English folk horror films ignited by the fan favorite trio of <i>The Witchfinder General</i> (1968), <i>Blood on Satan’s Claw</i> (1971), and the seminal folk horror film, <i>The Wicker Man</i> (1973). <i>Wicker Man</i> certainly sets up the classic folk horror contrasts: old vs new, city vs country, and the most potent for a nasty little debate, Christian vs. Pagan. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">That model applies to many of the films mentioned below, because I’m going to focus on this first and most complete of the segments of Janisse’s film. The second big segment involves American folk horror in film, which is primarily tied up in the familiar “horrors emerge when a new building is built on a Native American burial ground” plot. Add to this theme similar happenings in Australian films, where something new has been built on Aboriginal burial grounds. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The third overarching theme of the doc are films that present folk horror from different countries/continents, containing little or no <i>Wicker Man</i>-style conflict with the present. A number of these films are going to be released next month in a folk horror box set from Severin Films (called “All the Haunts Be Ours”) that includes restored versions of 19 films mentioned in the <i>Woodlands</i> doc, which is also contained in the box. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Staying with the first theme, though, one comes across a proliferation of British telefilms that presented folk horror tales — either of the <i>Wicker Man</i> stripe, pitting the “old ways” against Sixties/Seventies morality, or more traditional horror tales about introverted characters discovering weird relics of a past era, primarily those written by the scholar-author M.R. James. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglsqZa3ZKm6lG3qS65fohvCfZTSi0AFJOlyxfO4T_3qoI1O9Clbm82eBvwG88SuYZFRkKl8PksSZ763OBDfFFAfYAoatFOdHlS9LtInJQh7f1OEfehAk2FV7woQ5HIXT_4wBKG_8Y3m78cHT3n1W33JA8JAaCyfkgIDQGprEeJ8NoDW1Ci8mZRgQlUPQ=s301" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="301" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglsqZa3ZKm6lG3qS65fohvCfZTSi0AFJOlyxfO4T_3qoI1O9Clbm82eBvwG88SuYZFRkKl8PksSZ763OBDfFFAfYAoatFOdHlS9LtInJQh7f1OEfehAk2FV7woQ5HIXT_4wBKG_8Y3m78cHT3n1W33JA8JAaCyfkgIDQGprEeJ8NoDW1Ci8mZRgQlUPQ" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Whistle and I'll Come to You" (1968).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />James’ tales are very low-key and usually involve the protagonist losing their mind. An absolutely perfect example of innovative TV horror filmmaking is based on a classic James tale, “Whistle and I’ll Come to You.” This 1968 film serves as the perfect introduction to his work and to the U.K. TV treatment of folk horror. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The only horror film directed by the renaissance man of the “Beyond the Fringe” troupe, Dr. Jonathan Miller, “Whistle” contains a wonderful streak of low-key comedy, as its protagonist, an old professor (Michael Hordern) mutters to himself as he discovers an ancient whistle while he is on a seaside vacation. Like many James protagonists he loses his mind as he ponders the whistle and starts having delusions. “Whistle” was one of a bunch of earlier James adaptations for TV that led to the James-centric series of telefilms in the 1970s called “A Ghost Story for Christmas.”</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mYjtxHHjZ00" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Although it has a bit of the talky quality common to many teleplays, “Robin Redbreast” (a 1970 episode of the series <i>Play for Today</i>; also to be found on the forthcoming folk horror box) effectively communicates the culture-clash aspect of folk horror that was later honed to perfection in <i>Wicker Man</i>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEj1npzbplKOWEwm9HSJqjwzHvI1RytvJSNq3O3DQsi4xDNr8bhns7-GFIV0OhZob7CTC0Ugb4waKDDF4GMY-hqxQUQ6rWMwT5-3Z0E7Xbqh2YemfiAMiAfQfQjo_HRrYUtF07p_hcAbRtbEjQhfspDfK0J6C3K7caXygTHVsS7cg4iYECrct7tpRhRQ=s768" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="768" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEj1npzbplKOWEwm9HSJqjwzHvI1RytvJSNq3O3DQsi4xDNr8bhns7-GFIV0OhZob7CTC0Ugb4waKDDF4GMY-hqxQUQ6rWMwT5-3Z0E7Xbqh2YemfiAMiAfQfQjo_HRrYUtF07p_hcAbRtbEjQhfspDfK0J6C3K7caXygTHVsS7cg4iYECrct7tpRhRQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Robin Redbreast" (1970).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The plot offers us a city woman (who just happens to work for the BBC editing scripts!) who journeys to a country house she bought in the South of England. There she encounters strange occurrences but has a champion — a young handyman whom she has sex with one wayward night. She becomes pregnant as a result of the encounter but soon realizes that she was preordained to couple with the young handyman to fulfill an old tradition. The final image is wonderfully creepy, especially coming after such a dialogue-centric work.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OvU2zHMFlfU" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Penda’s Fen</i> (1974) is the most complex of any of the films included here, because it is a coming of age tale that involves history, fantasy, religious prohibitions, budding sexuality, and the music of Elgar (one of “Unkle Ken” Russell’s favorite musical titans). It also will be included on the “All the Haunts Be Ours” box set. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJi19WKMhc-6AwrCTdVpIzL4h-BAoiIRAmkqqhvMelTo6y_tTEmZydmbjOZ_wMAnWpAvwuE1Tbx724a8BsFsECn475s0K-67WK5xEbjOMx5WHIMGftM-sUEkf72FJtSqJWBygwrcT-Ncu3w4VQMCpgECgofW62cS0Q1KjJuDuXP5WhV9wgnA1BuDH2_g=s500" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="500" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgJi19WKMhc-6AwrCTdVpIzL4h-BAoiIRAmkqqhvMelTo6y_tTEmZydmbjOZ_wMAnWpAvwuE1Tbx724a8BsFsECn475s0K-67WK5xEbjOMx5WHIMGftM-sUEkf72FJtSqJWBygwrcT-Ncu3w4VQMCpgECgofW62cS0Q1KjJuDuXP5WhV9wgnA1BuDH2_g=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Penda's Fen</i> (1974).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Another presentation from the <i>Play for Today</i> Series, it’s a quite incredible film that has a folk horror aspect relating to an ancient Anglo-Saxon king but is primarily about a boy dealing with his fear of growing up and defining himself. The copy uploaded to YouTube looks bad for the last few minutes, but that won’t ruin your viewing of this essential work, written by David Rudkin and directed by the usually more grounded-in-urban-reality master, Alan Clarke.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PJmrsRtCYxg" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><i>Murrain</i> (1975) is a less talky exploration of the city/country, old/new culture-clash that informed “Robin Redbreast.” In this telefilm written by Nigel Kneale (best known for the “Quatermass” series) a veterinarian is told by the inhabitants of a small country town that a local woman is a witch and she is causing their animals to die. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjI0WN2HY5d5aUm7uXRaxOClBB9z0KNzgNtFIx7BqxQ2jrYjfNpU3aRucSyZnUIEftr7K8axLcXIt1QoIC9deFEkmlXlo9FUcYBf9yHppx9qRv1CCL6T7YS2TbNZ6qNVEe0RtaINEOn_VsMxkskp3QLFIbjFTt1tL4mrMaVE9mTu139EeFBiXjR-mUbcg=s1000" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="1000" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjI0WN2HY5d5aUm7uXRaxOClBB9z0KNzgNtFIx7BqxQ2jrYjfNpU3aRucSyZnUIEftr7K8axLcXIt1QoIC9deFEkmlXlo9FUcYBf9yHppx9qRv1CCL6T7YS2TbNZ6qNVEe0RtaINEOn_VsMxkskp3QLFIbjFTt1tL4mrMaVE9mTu139EeFBiXjR-mUbcg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Murrain" (1975).</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;">One of the joys here is seeing James Bond’s boss “M” (Bernard Lee) as one of the menacing townspeople. But the tale is very well told and the denouement is especially chilling, as it proves that one side of the old/new argument is very definitely correct.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/b_pTzBqrQ0s" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The popularity of subdued-but-still-menacing horror on British TV spawned a wonderful series of telefilms, all of which aired on an evening just prior to Xmas. “A Ghost Story for Christmas,” which ran for eight years in its initial incarnation (a current reboot of the series is now airing thanks to one-man-horror-factory Mark Gatiss), produced some terrific films, all of which are worth viewing and qualify as classic horror TV. There are many elements at play here, but one of the most impressive is the use of locations in the British countryside in every one of the films.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://www.thisishorror.co.uk/lawrence-gordon-clark/">The director of the whole “strand” of films (as they say in the U.K.), Lawrence Gordon Clark,</a> is looked upon as a modern master of low-key but still very creepy chills and thrills, always arriving as part of a character study about a solitary protagonist. And the best part of this whole experiment in reviving ghost stories for Christmas? The films can be watched all year round, as the stories are not set at Xmas and are not at all “seasonal” in nature. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first film was “The Stalls of Barchester” (1971). A suitably minor-key item adapted from M.R. James, it presents horror of a kind that remains mostly offstage. We follow a scholar who happens upon information about an archdeacon’s death and a mysterious curse.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dFHkSCSrtfY" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“A Warning to the Curious” (1972) is the longest of the bunch (at 50 minutes) and builds upon a legend about three crowns. An antiquarian travels to a seaside town to find one of the crowns and immediately begins seeing an apparition of an ominous figure. The piece moves slowly but decisively toward a nasty ending, but as always, Gordon masterfully sketches characters and thereby depicts the eroding of a “proper” man’s mind.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/JIY8HjJ5iA8" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The ghosts appear in the very first scene of the period piece “Lost Hearts” (1973), as our boy hero (an orphan, naturally) is brought to a mansion in the country. The boy’s host, an oddball adult distant cousin, “hosted” two children who are now “gone” — and if there’s one thing that’s scarier than a weird apparition on the beach (as in “Warning” and “Whistle”), it’s creepy child ghosts. The strand began to truly hit its stride here.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/W5AQMb22BC4" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“The Treasure of Abbot Thomas” (1974) is testimony to the fact that Clark distinguished each of the films and made each one especially memorable, even though James’ plots repeat certain elements. Here two skeptics about spiritualism — a young man and a theologian — begin to believe that there is lost treasure to be found, hidden away by an Abbot who also was an alchemist and a magician.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/h9vkZGiKIrE" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">“The Ash Tree” (1975) is the most overtly scary in the series. It begins with another arrival at a haunted abode. This time it’s a nobleman who has inherited a giant mansion that is haunted by the specter of a witch trial that the nobleman’s ancestor presided over. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Here the horrors invade our antihero’s mind early in his stay at the house. We move between past and present in a fluid fashion (as was done in the brilliant teleplays of Dennis Potter) and are heading inexorably toward the scariest end in any of the James adaptations. The secret? The jarring scene involving the titular ash tree takes place late at night and Gordon wisely kept the play’s creepiest element in the dark.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5d6zztR_SAM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">While “Ash Tree” is the most overtly scary entry in the series, “The Signalman” (1976) is without a doubt the most compact and best acted. The first of the films not to be adapted from M.R. James (its source is a short story by Charles Dickens), it features Denholm Elliott as the title character, a railroad switchman who is terrified that there is going to be a massive crash of trains that he can’t possibly prevent. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The format of “discovery” is the same here, as a traveler on foot finds the switchman and then hears his story. But, as in “Ash Tree,” we are without doubt dwelling in Elliott’s mind at key moments. This entry emphasizes the character study aspect of these stories, while also offering an absolutely sublime lead performance.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ROsuu5NhdgM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">The first original script in the series, “Stigma” (1977) deals with a family that has moved to a remote country house. The mother wants to have a large stone removed from the backyard. As a construction crew struggles to remove it, she begins to bleed (yes, this should’ve been titled “stigmata,” but that would’ve blown some of the weirdness). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgL2oGaJlHGtzZIn8GyN3ViQSkl82BoRyX8pXY2kTlXaVTC_PIx9YPZ1HYuXWfd5pZoH2zzYKd1c9c-nKAmL58frgDq8ZSvh5wuLYRM3waDAuMbAMj3EJQ2I5wuaQylYQDE-Pdih-JJ_wGXBGIdR9806I6WZwzSsPOJqdBsLiCmLLvWdGCqAAVe-NDxsQ=s981" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="756" data-original-width="981" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgL2oGaJlHGtzZIn8GyN3ViQSkl82BoRyX8pXY2kTlXaVTC_PIx9YPZ1HYuXWfd5pZoH2zzYKd1c9c-nKAmL58frgDq8ZSvh5wuLYRM3waDAuMbAMj3EJQ2I5wuaQylYQDE-Pdih-JJ_wGXBGIdR9806I6WZwzSsPOJqdBsLiCmLLvWdGCqAAVe-NDxsQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Stigma."</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />By the end moment where the daughter in the family “explains” what has been going on in a few lines of dialogue, we are fully aware that the removal of that stone was, in effect, tampering with dark forces. Clark did a wonderful job here of “updating” the series by following characters who exist entirely in the present but are indeed haunted by the past. The use of Christian imagery as the “curse” (yes, that’s a pun) that befalls our heroine as she tampers with a Pagan artifact is quite brilliant, especially because we remain tethered in the present and never see Pagan worshippers or any historical figures.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><a href="https://youtu.be/UjlWjnrcag8">The film can be seen here.</a><br /><br />The last in the original strand of films, “The Ice House” (1978), is another wonderfully weird concoction that features (nearly as jarring as scary child ghosts) an uncommonly good-looking and uncommonly creepy adult brother and sister who run an upper-crusty spa housed in an old mansion. Our hero in this tale (again, an original script) is a logical chap who discovers the secrets of the resort and is both attracted to and disturbed by the brother and sister. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhm4MrVDFRWLOIoKV95cdQHqWO5mVwQkdOjORPD6GjMxKj9gXYGA7rkKMMM1qre7ERKVJd9GKGdgf0yGw3e9qazaddZ2xQD1ojTqAOZLyHd6fI7kgh1GZYg7zRJdU71lvs1xazpkSxC8kYKvNqJxkxlGd1S8kZlQjf_dI47KWYMF941N56wwl1HIR2Xlw=s260" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="260" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhm4MrVDFRWLOIoKV95cdQHqWO5mVwQkdOjORPD6GjMxKj9gXYGA7rkKMMM1qre7ERKVJd9GKGdgf0yGw3e9qazaddZ2xQD1ojTqAOZLyHd6fI7kgh1GZYg7zRJdU71lvs1xazpkSxC8kYKvNqJxkxlGd1S8kZlQjf_dI47KWYMF941N56wwl1HIR2Xlw" width="260" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Ice House."</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br />Here again, the past is never openly on view — there are simply emblems of the evil perpetrated at the resort. As in “Stigma,” this play is quite well-written and implies more than it ever shows.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="244" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lkBdYqr-FeM" title="YouTube video player" width="345"></iframe> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">As noted above, this strand of telefilms has been revived by Mark Gatiss, and so there are ghost stories for Christmas once again. I can’t vouch for the recent films, as those are (per Sarris) “subjects for further research.” But this original group of films and its four precursors listed above, have no specific ties to the holiday or to anything about the Christmas season in general. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Like all good horror, they could be linked more properly to Halloween (that most blest of unholy holidays), but in fact are highly watchable entertainment all year long.</span></p>Media Funhousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15243301374887605164noreply@blogger.com0