Showing posts with label Wim Wenders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wim Wenders. Show all posts

Friday, May 1, 2020

What's in a Name? Deceased Artiste Allen Goorwitz (aka Allen Garfield)


His face rings bells for anyone who watches (and reveres) the great American cinema of the early Seventies, now a long-gone phenomenon. (Q: Was Hollywood ever that grown-up and intelligent afterward? A: No.) He was a scene-stealer in films by De Palma, Downey Sr, Coppola, Altman, Friedkin, and Wilder (and in countless TV shows from the Seventies to the Nineties); his presence could brighten up a film was otherwise a dud. He was Allen Garfield, born Goorwitz  and later to use both names as a film actor.

Garfield died last week at 80 of Covid-19 after living for the last 15 or so years in an actor’s home, as a result of a stroke he had in his mid-Sixties. For those of us who loved his work, it presented a chance to review his wonderful supporting performances in countless movies and TV show. The best remembered include De Palma’s Greetings and Hi Mom!, Coppola’s The Conversation, and Altman’s Nashville.



The film that was absent from his obits and other tributes was Wim Wenders’ The State of Things (1982). The picture was a sort of fantasia/commentary on having worked with Coppola in Zoetrope mode on Hammett. (Which, it was later revealed by Andrew Sarris from remarks by Peter Boyle, contains quite a lot of scenes shot by Coppola himself; Boyle noted he worked exclusively in the Coppola-shot scenes).

State of Things begins with a cerebral sci-fi film shoot in Portugal, which is interrupted by the crew (including the great Sam Fuller, playing the cinematographer) running out of film stock. The German director of the piece (which may or may not have foreshadowed Wenders’ own epic 1991 sci-fi film Until the End of the World) is played by Patrick Bauchau. He ventures back to California to see his American producer, Gordon (Goorwitz), who is hiding out from loan sharks in a mobile home, wandering up and down the boulevards in Hollywood.

Goorwitz gives the type of film-stealing supporting performance that should’ve netted him an Oscar in a just world (but the Oscars have little to do with supreme quality). He makes Gordon a sympathetic figure who loves art for art’s sake but is also clearly a con man who is on the run from those who are more corrupt than he (and they probably don’t even know who starred in They Drive By Night  a debate that happens in the dialogue in the scene).

A word about his last name: He was indeed born Allen Goorwitz on Nov. 22, 1939. He changed his name professionally to Garfield, according to an article in The New York Times, for his first play after seeing John Garfield in Body and Soul (notice the Garfield namecheck in State of Things). He changed his last name back to Goorwitz in 1978 as ''something to replenish my spirit because my parents had passed away.''

He found, though, that he was typecast when he used his own, ethnic-sounding name. “It was as if there was an unspoken thing: now that he's Goorwitz he can only do Goorwitz roles,'' he told the NYT. (“What that meant was nothing but Italian or Jewish ethnic parts,” they added for those of us who are slow on the uptake.) So, after losing 100 pounds through Overeaters Anonymous, he took back his fake name in 1984 and became Garfield again, through the rest of his screen/TV career.

For me, the scene below is the essence is what made Allen G. a great character person  he embodied his characters fully, made them both seedy and charming, and also did just completely steal whatever scenes he was in. And yes, he wrote the little song he sings to himself in this scene, about Hollywood. (Click the words "Watch on Odnoklassniki" in the embed and watch on the site housing the clip.)

Monday, March 18, 2019

What I write when I’m not writing here (part 1 of two)

Jean Seberg in Godard's segment of
The World's Greatest Swindlers
Every nook and cranny on the Internet exists for one thing. No, not porn – relentless self-promotion! Thus, I herewith offer a number of the reviews I’ve done for the Disc Dish site. The reviews are in-depth, filled with information gleaned in the watching and reading of supplemental materials, and (I hope) entertaining.

I haven’t done an entry on my work for DD since 2015, so this piece will be broken into two parts. Screw streaming – support the little silver disc industry! 

The anthology film The World’s Most Beautiful Swindlers has been very hard to see over the last few decades. It includes two good episodes from Japanese and Italian directors, but is most notable for having a characteristically amoral entry from Claude Chabrol and Godard’s only reunion with Jean Seberg – a short in which she plays a journalist in Marrakesh.

The Criterion re-release of Ghost World includes old and new supplements. It also reminds us how good a film based on a comic book can be. 

The Kino release of Josef von Sternberg’s final film, Anatahan, contains the director’s re-edit of the film (including nudity) and supplements that discuss both Sternberg’s career and the difference between the two versions of the film.

I am a major fan of Francis Ford Coppola’s low-key character studies, and Rumble Fish is one of his most brilliantly stylized features.

Leos Carax’s sublime Lovers on the Bridge finally was issued in a deluxe edition on disc. 

Multiple Maniacs, John Waters’ second feature, received the Criterion treatment, with the no-budget 16mm film being restored into a pristine shape it never had in the first place.

Fassbinder’s Fox and His Friends remains one of the filmmaker’s most important statements about the exploitation of a minority by people in that minority.

The seminal caper film, The Asphalt Jungle, joins the ranks of Criterion’s releases.

One of the best modern Westerns, Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller, reappears in a deluxe edition.

The documentary Eat That Question is comprised entirely of interview footage with Frank Zappa (with a tiny bit of his music).

Russ Meyer’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is that thing of rare radiance – a spoof of an era made while that era is still going on.

The film that made Luis Bunuel want to be a filmmaker, Fritz Lang’s Destiny, finally gets a prestige release on disc.

Terrence Malick’s The New World appeared on disc in a director’s cut that “balances” the segments of the film in a better way.

Malick's New World
Alain Resnais’ Muriel reveals his genius for shuffling time and memory.

One of the finest black comedies of all time, Dr. Strangelove, comes ready with new supplements and a host of the older ones.

Olivier Assayas has been showcasing the talents of Kristen Stewart in the last few years. In Clouds of Sils Maria, she joins Juliette Binoche for a character study concerning friendship between women of different ages. 

Wim Wenders: The Road Trilogy groups together three of his best early films, including the epic-length but still small in scope classic Kings of the Road.

Bogart gave arguably his best performance in Nick Ray’s hard-hitting noir In a Lonely Place. 

Dead Pigeon on Beethoven Street, Sam Fuller’s delirious crime picture, finally gets a prestige release.

Guy Maddin and Evan Johnson’s The Forbidden Room offers stories within stories (and a sterling cast led by Charlotte Rampling and Udo Kier). 

Out 1 is one of the late Jacques Rivette’s masterworks, a 13-hour film that reflects the post-’68 mindset in France and offers one of the filmmaker’s best paranoid fantasies.

An underrated comic portrait of an era, Serial skewers self-help and new-age philosophies and movements.

Wim Wenders’ The American Friend is a masterful character study, allegory, and crime picture with two great lead performances by Bruno Ganz and Dennis Hopper.

Bruno Ganz in The American Friend
Burroughs: the Movie comes back into distribution, replete with outtakes.

The Mr. Warmth box set offers several Don Rickles specials and every episode of his sitcom CPO Sharkey.

Alain Resnais’ long-“missing”sci-fi love story Je t’aime, je t’aime finally receives a restoration and a U.S. release.

The superb box set comprised of episodes from the visionary PBS series The Great American Dream Machine reminds us how good and far-ranging PBS programming was in the Seventies.

Standup comedian and Lefty troublemaker Barry Crimmins is profiled in Bobcat Goldthwait’s funny and poignant Call Me Lucky.

A never-before-seen Frank Zappa concert film, Roxy: The Movie, finally saw a release nearly 40 years after it was shot. 

The American Dreamer is a portrait of Dennis Hopper in the period after Easy Rider, when he was one of the most sought-after filmmakers in America (and one of the craziest).