Fire and Music

I don't even know what I'm qualified to do...

2010-11-06T13:44:00.002-04:00

*tap tap tap* This thing on?

So, it's been a while. Okay. Maybe more than a while. Real Life got in the way of important things like blogging for a few months, but I never intended to abandon this thing entirely. That said, the reason I'm back at it now is because of a movie that's quite a bit like my Real Life: No Footing.

Rowan alum Michael Licisyn screened his film for current students and faculty last night in an event hosted by the Cinema Workshop. No Footing tells the story of Madison (Jensen Bucher), a 23-year-old art school graduate trying to get her life on track. Despite her Bachelor's degree, she finds herself working in a copy shop for an unbearably absurd boss (a perfectly over-the-top performance by Derek Lindeman). She can barely pay the bills and is far too drained at the end of the day to paint for herself, let alone pursue the dream of making a living with her art.

She feels stuck and alone when she finds herself continually bumping into Christopher (Jake Matthews), a kindred spirit of sorts who gave up the theater in order to get a steady job as a high school guidance counselor. Their relationship is refreshingly complex; this is not a love story, despite one very suggestive dream sequence. Instead they are not quite even friends. Their dynamic is one of a mentor and protegee. Madison latches onto him in the hopes that he can teach her how to cope with what she perceives as failure. In turn, he teaches her to take responsibility for her own happiness.

In a Q&A session after the film, Licisyn stated that Madison's journey was based largely on his own, when he was struggling to establish himself after graduation. This may be why the film rings so true. Madison's world is the same one that I'm living in, as are many of my peers, and Licisyn explores the myriad of ways in which we all cope with it. Like Madison's best friend Kylie, I chose to extend my undergraduate education by an extra year (although I didn't fail any classes in order to do it). Like Madison herself, most of my friends who have already graduated are working low-wage jobs unrelated to their majors. Madison's parents are my parents, down to the mother pushing for a career in teaching as a back-up plan. And of course everyone has a Cory (Michael Bower, better known as "Donkeylips" to those of us who were kids in the '90s), that eccentric success story we can't help but look at with envy. This film captures all the uncertainty of entering adulthood at a time when degrees are plentiful but jobs are few, and it does so with a subtlety that is absent from most coming-of-age stories.

Boudu Sauvé des Eaux

2010-05-21T11:09:00.001-04:00

Suicide seems to have been a common theme in French comedies, or at least the ones showcased in Cannes Classics this year. Jean Renoir's Boudu Sauvé des Eaux is about a homeless man, Boudu, saved from drowning himself by the middle-class bookseller Monsieur Lestingois. Hailed as a hero by the community, Lestingois takes Boudu in and tries to give him a respectable life. However, Boudu isn't interested in the so-called good life. He takes everything Lestingois is willing to give him, up to and including the bookseller's own mistress; after marrying her, he realizes that he was happier as a bum than a bourgeois, and jumps back into the river to reclaim his old life.

Much of the film's humor comes from the disparities between the Lestingois family's genteel lifestyle and Boudu's crude existence. Although Lestingois holds a higher place in society, Boudu continually bests him, running the man and his family ragged simply because they won't stand up to him -- it would be poor manners, after all, to refuse their guest. The lowly Boudu, therefore, comes off as smarter and wittier than his well-educated hosts, ironic because they run and live in a bookstore, which theoretically should be a fountain of wisdom.

However, this film is more than just another story of a poor man outsmarting a richer one. The characters are all complex and engaging; Lestingois does the right thing by taking in Boudu, but he does so at least partially because it makes him look good -- he's more concerned with society's opinion than with his family's. Boudu takes advantage of his hosts, but he too is shown to have at least something resembling a heart. This lighthearted film bypasses the preachy route by poking fun at both classes simultaneously, with the natural interactions between characters.

Au Petit Bonheur (1946)

2010-05-19T05:44:00.001-04:00

Cannes Classics brought a restored print of Au Petit Bonheur back to the big screen last week. This absolutely hysterical French comedy from 1946 features Danielle Darrieux as Martine, the crazy and jealous wife in a marriage of convenience who sets out to make her husband fall in love with her, collateral damage be damned.

Said collateral damage consists of playwright Alain Plessis, whose car she first shoots and then repeatedly comandeers. Plessis is on his way to a remote inn, a wonderfully creepy place that serves to isolate the main cast, which is where he fell in love with an actress who later left him. He plans to relive their first happy moments, then kill himself; his plan is postponed when he comes across the innkeeper, Brigitte, who is rehearsing her own suicide. Together, they happen upon Martine's husband, Denis, who had broken in to get away from her. When Martine discovers him and he leaves her, she too decides to take her own life. Yes, kids, this is a comedy.

The rest of the film involves Martine and Denis scheming with other people to get each other back. Martine, who started out as mentally unstable, gains the upper hand by overhearing a conversation between Denis and Plessis. However, she is thwarted by an accidental dose of sleeping pills. All three characters are literally on the precipice before Plessins realizes he doesn't want to die, and Martine and Denis realize that neither of them wants a divorce. Along the way, there are more than enough misunderstandings and plays on words to keep this comedy from becoming too dark, and everything is tied up neatly in the end -- literally, with the rope that Brigitte would have used to hang herself.

You ain't supposed to enjoy yourself 'til sundown...

2010-05-17T14:42:00.003-04:00

Well, kids, I made it. I’m writing to you live from the Cannes Film Festival in Cannes, France. Don’t expect regular updates for a while (does anyone still expect regular updates from me?) because I’m working my derrière off, to use the local vernacular. But, I’ll do what I can.

Early in the festival I had the amazing opportunity to see a newly-restored print of From Here to Eternity projected onto a giant screen on the beach. This was my first time seeing the film, believe it or not, so obviously I jumped at the chance.

The movie itself definitely lived up to the hype. I thought it was interesting to see a film from 1953 set around Pearl Harbor, because it presented a critical view of the military that certainly would not have gotten past the censors had the war still been going on. For example, Warden routinely manipulates and makes a fool of his superior, Holmes; officers would never have been looked down upon like that in a wartime flick. I also thought that the film had a mood of inevitability in the scenes leading up to the attack that might possibly have mirrored the general mood of the public in the 1950s -- that is, the idea that war would break out at any moment. I saw this parallel particularly strongly when Warden and Karen were in the car discussing their future, and he told her, "We're sure to be into a war by then."

The role of the two women in this film is also very interesting. It definitely showcases post-war attitudes about a woman's place being in the home; Karen defines waste as "a house without a child," and her back story revolves around being unable to have children, as though that's what determines her sense of self-worth. Alma, who goes by Lorene, has a job of her own, but it's not considered respectable; she dreams of marrying rich. The goals of both women are completely dependent on men. For this reason, I thought it was fascinating that the film closes on them rather than on the soldiers.

Unfortunately, the screening wasn't as picture-perfect as it sounded in theory. There was another beach-side event on a pier close by, and the music from that drowned out much of the beautifully restored soundtrack for parts of the movie, including the iconic scene of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr rolling in the surf. Fireworks in the ocean, though pretty, were also a distraction. Still, seeing the film at all was a wonderful way to start the festival; I just wish the exhibition had done it justice.

Maybe she was alright, and maybe Christmas comes in July...

2010-03-31T23:40:00.003-04:00

World War II brought about a lot of disruptions and restrictions to which Hollywood had to adapt. The end of the war, however, brought about its own set of challenges. With the troops overseas, filmmakers had grown used to targeting a fragmented audience -- the men on the front lines, and the women on the home front. As soldiers returned home, Hollywood led the way in helping America adjust to a reunified peacetime society. Films became more violent to attract the male audiences who were fresh from combat, and female characters exemplified the American woman's return from the workplace back into the home. 1947's Dead Reckoning is a prime illustration of how Hollywood transitioned into the postwar period.

Dead Reckoning is clearly aimed at soldiers returning from war. The main male character, Captain Warren "Rip" Murdock (Humphrey Bogart), is a former soldier. Fitting with noir conventions, he refuses aid from his superiors in Washington, acting more as a lone detective as he tries to clear the name of his fellow soldier, Johnny, who had enlisted under an alias after having been accused of murdering the husband of his lover, Coral "Dusty" Chandler (played by Lauren Bacall look-alike Lizabeth Scott). In keeping with censorship rules regarding the portrayal of the military, it is immediately revealed that Johnny is innocent -- we can't have the audience doubting the virtue of a man in uniform, after all. The film then unfolds as a whodunnit as Rip tries to determine who framed Johnny.

There are several elements throughout the film that point to a marked change in censorship compared to earlier noirs. For example, Martinelli, the owner of the club where Dusty works, is portrayed as a gangster. This marks the return of a genre and character that had been banned during the war as "unAmerican." Here, the mobsters are German, with Nazi weapons; American audiences at this time were seeing newsreels of the liberated concentration camps, leaving a lasting and powerful impression of the atrocities committed by the defeated enemy. In particular, Martinelli's right-hand man Krause is portrayed as positively sadistic, doling out brutal beatings set to music. The excessive violence was a means of reaching audiences who had been desensitized, either by combat or by footage of its aftermath.

One of the most radical differences between wartime and postwar films noir is the portrayal of gender roles. Earlier films featured independent working females holding down the fort while the men were away. At the end of the war, Hollywood needed to convince women to give up their independence so that men could regain their jobs in the face of massive unemployment. From a modern perspective, this film is not at all subtle in its pursuit of that goal. Rip and Dusty have a recurring conversation about a woman's place -- which, according to Rip, is in a man's pocket until he's ready to pull her out again, and then only to look pretty. After resisting, double-crossing, and even trying to kill Rip, Dusty dies wishing that he could pick her up and put her in his pocket. Taken in its historical context, this could be seen as a warning to the women in the audience who balked at surrendering their independence: repent or die.

Those are harsh words to throw at a man, especially as he's walking out of your bedroom...

2010-03-06T22:21:00.001-05:00

The impact of politics on the film industry is a subject I find fascinating, particularly during and immediately after WWII into the Cold War. The more I learn, the more I want to know, and the more I want to watch films from that era so that I can try to pick apart what was going on behind the scenes in terms of censorship and government regulation. I've talked before about movies that were made at the beginning or during the height of the war, but once the end of the conflict was in sight, Hollywood faced a new set of challenges in the transition to the postwar era. In my Film Noir class, we've been discussing these challenges and how they are exemplified by films such as The Big Sleep.

As the war drew to a close, Hollywood had to appeal not only to the largely female homefront audience, but now to the men returning from overseas as well. Heroes gave way to anti-heroes, including Humphrey Bogart's hardboiled detective Phillip Marlowe. Marlowe is hired by an ailing but wealthy veteran to figure out who is blackmailing his wild young daughter, Carmen. The case is over with rather quickly, as Geiger, the blackmailer, is killed right under Marlowe's nose. But the detective is unsatisfied with this resolution and digs deeper, much to the chagrin of General Sternwood's older daughter, Vivian (Lauren Bacall), who does everything in her power to throw Marlowe off-track as he finds himself investigating not only Geiger's case, but the disappearance of Sternwood's employee Sean Regan, who was alleged to have run off with the wife of Geiger's landlord, Eddie Mars.

Though Marlowe was hired to extract Carmen from a potentially dangerous situation, he soon switches his focus to Vivian; this is the result of early screenings of the film for troops overseas, who wanted to see Lauren Bacall's role expanded after the success of her pairing with Bogart in To Have And Have Not. I haven't seen the earlier version, but I thought that Vivian was the more interesting sister and I was glad when the narrative shifted towards her shady dealings instead of Carmen's drunken mix-ups. Still, both sisters' troubles are a lot to pack into one movie.

The violence in this film is very overt and hands-on, targeted at the many men who were readjusting to life after combat. Marlowe gives Carmen a couple of hard slaps to get her to come to when he discovers her in Geiger's house with his newly-dead body, and he himself is beaten bloody more than once, not to mention multiple murders that occur as Marlowe attempts to solve the riddle of Geiger's slaying. Additionally, Marlowe is presented as someone that other men would want to be; women throw themselves at him throughout the film, with the exception of Vivian, who eventually admits her attraction to him. It seems there is no woman that Marlowe couldn't have, but Vivian still holds her own as a classic femme fatale. Courting both male and female audiences was a daunting task at this time, but by cultivating strong women and men of action in his characters, Howard Hawks walked the tightrope well.

I was the steam when hot meets cold...

2010-02-08T23:52:00.002-05:00

Tom Kalin is not a director who shies away from controversial subjects. What I like about his films, in fact, is his ability to pull social taboos out into the light and examine them without deliberately trying to be provocative. Perhaps the best example of this is his 2007 feature, Savage Grace.

Savage Grace is, like Swoon, based on a real-life murder case. This one involves the Baekeland family, hiers to the Bakelite plastics fortune. The film chronicles the relationships between Brooks Baekeland, his wife Barbara Daly Baekeland, and their only child, Antony Baekeland, from Tony's infancy through Barbara's death at the hands of her son. A major theme of the film is the rumored incestuous relationship between Barbara and Tony, alleged to be the catalyst that led Tony to kill his mother.

One of the many remarkable things about this film is the way it was shot. As he proved in Swoon, Kalin does period films very thoroughly, shooting each segment as it would have been shot in the time period in which it was set. The progression from a stable camera and classical Hollywood-style invisible editing in the 1940s and 50s to the handheld camera and more adventurous style in the 60s subtly helps to orient the viewer each time the narrative jumps ahead, while making the transition feel seamless by immediately calling to mind the decade that is now being portrayed.

Of course, what many would consider the most remarkable thing about this film is its subject matter. Incest is among the gravest taboos in modern society, foremost on the unwritten list of "Thou Shalt Nots" that governs what topics are addressed in the mainstream media. It's easy to assume that anyone who would make a movie about it is purely looking to capitalize on shock value, but after viewing Savage Grace I can say that this doesn't seem to be the case here. In fact, Kalin seems to take great pains in order to avoid shocking the audience -- anymore than absolutely necessary, that is, because the Baekeland case is shocking in and of itself. Rather than exploiting his characters, Kalin explores them as human beings, flaws and all, and presents a respectful picture of what can go wrong in the human mind that would lead to such tragic events.

I'm king of the world...

2010-02-02T00:07:00.001-05:00

You can really tell it's awards season, can't you? Grammys, Oscars, Razzies, blog awards... Yes, that's right, there's another one of those going around already, and this one was graciously presented to me by Sally. It's the Over The Top award, and the rules are as follows:

Link back to the person who tagged you, answer the following questions with one word only (I may have fudged this one a bit), and then link to a few other blogs that are also Over the Top.

1. Where is your phone? desk
2. Your hair? blonde
3. Your Mother? lovely
4. Your Father? witty
5. Your favorite food? chocolate
6. Your dream last night? hazy
7. Your favorite drink? white Russian
8. Your dream/goal? professional student
9. What room are you in? bedroom
10. Your hobby? blogging
11. Your fear? needles
(12. is missing)
13. Where were you last night? Grammy-watching party
14. Something that you’re not? musical
15. Muffins? delicious
16. Wish list item? iTouch
17. Where did you grow up? Jersey
18. Last thing you did? shower
19. What are you wearing? PJs
20. Your TV? fuzzy
21. Your pets? dog
22. Friends? wonderful
23. Your life? excellent
24. Your mood? sleepy
25. Missing someone? old friends
26. Vehicle? ancient
27. Something you’re not wearing? socks
28. Your favorite store? Kohl's
29. Your Favorite color? blue
30. When was the last time you laughed? 10:58
31. The last time you cried? unimportant
32. Your best friend? hilarious
33. One place that I go to over and over? Philly
34. Facebook? Twitter
35. Favorite place to eat? Subway

Here are some other Over The Top blogs I think you'll all enjoy:

Bygone Brilliance
Hollywood Dreamland
Movie Viewing Girl
Skeins Of Thought
Some Parade

I wanted to pass the boundaries of intelligence for something more pure...

2010-01-31T19:05:00.001-05:00

Like Alfred Hitchcock and many others before him, Tom Kalin chose to explore the Leopold and Loeb case through film. The result, Swoon, takes a unique look at the crime by focusing on the intimate relationship between the two men rather than on the adversarial relationship between them and the rest of society, as we saw in Rope.

Through both the cinematography and the mise-en-scène, Kalin puts the audience into the time period of the film while simultaneously taking them out of it. The grainy black-and-white film stock is reminiscent of that which was used in films shot during the 1920s, while occasional extreme angles or use of a handheld camera give the film a more modern feel. Likewise, anachronisms such as a black female stenographer (at the time of the court case, the position was held only by white males) and technology that was unavailable in the 20s, such as touch-tone phones, were used very deliberately and effectively. Taken together, these choices give the audience the dichotomous feelings of watching events unfold as they happen and seeing them with the perspective granted by hindsight.

One of the most interesting scenes in the film comes in the aftermath of the crime. After they are arrested thanks to evidence left at the scene by the perpetually anxious Nathan, the killers are questioned separately and turn on each other. Once they are reunited, each tries to convince the investigators that he had been driving the car while his partner committed the murder in the backseat. They both stick to their stories so firmly that it's impossible to discern which of them is lying; in a tense moment, however, Dickie slips up and "forgets" that he had supposedly been driving. He uses his natural charms to cover his tracks, and both he and Nathan are charged with murder, but the film conclusively indicates that he was the more guilty party.

According to Tom Kalin, who spoke with our class a few weeks after we screened this film, that scene was taken directly from the court transcripts. The film's story grew out of the moment when Richard Loeb inadvertently identified Nathan Leopold as the driver of their car, implying that he himself had been in the backseat with the victim. After reading that part of the transcript, Kalin was convinced that Loeb had been the one to actually take the boy's life, and wrote the movie from that perspective. As a writing student as well as a film student, I found it very interesting to think about the entire film having spiraled out of this one defining moment of truth. The next time I see the movie, I will definitely be thinking about how it leads up to and away from that revelation.

Made it, Ma! Top of the world...

2010-01-27T20:41:00.001-05:00

A little over a week ago, the esteemed Moira Finnie was kind enough to tag me in the Kreativ Blogger Award. It came the day I moved into a new apartment at the beginning of a new semester, so hopefully she can forgive the delay in my response, but I was (and am) very flattered and very grateful.

The rules of engagement are as follows:

1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
Many, many thanks, Moira!

2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
You mean this logo here?

3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
Right this way, please.

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.

Oh, dear. This might take me another week-and-a-half.

~I'm going to be interning with the American Pavilion at the Cannes Film Festival this May. This means I'll have access to not only the festival, which is obviously an incredible opportunity in and of itself, but panels and roundtable discussions specifically aimed at film students. To say I'm excited would be a major understatement.

~Last weekend, I baked someting from scratch for the first time ever. I had the help of my roommate and a friend of ours, and a few other friends helped with the eating part. Our cupcakes turned out quite well, considering who made them.

~I kept a running tally of every film I watched in 2009. Surprisingly, the only one I saw more than twice was Jay And Silent Bob Strike Back, which I saw in its entirety four times. It's hardly my favorite Kevin Smith movie (oh hi there, Mallrats), but it was on the CW all the time and I only have a handful of cable channels in my room at home.

~My top five most-played songs on iTunes are "Wherefore Art Thou, Elvis?" by The Gaslight Anthem (120), "Straw Dog" by Something Corporate" (104), "Engines" by Snow Patrol (95), "Old White Lincoln" by The Gaslight Anthem (93), and "Etreintes Fatales" by Johnny Hallyday (86). One of these things is not like the others...

~Today I found two Carole Lombard movies on one DVD for $2.99 in ShopRite, of all places (it's a grocery store, for those not in the northeast US). The movies are Made For Each Other and Nothing Sacred. Score!

~I'm becoming very interested in the effects of sociopolitical issues on the film industry. It started with the blacklist panel, and now I'd really love to study it more in-depth someday.

~I'm really not that interesting. Or I just can't count to seven.

5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers and post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.

A Noodle In A Haystack
Cinema Splendor
Discovering Dirk Bogarde
Flying Down To Hollywood
Lolita's Classics
Out Of The Past
She Blogged By Night

All of these blogs are well-written, informative, and a delight to read!

6. There's no number 6. Somebody should make one up.

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.

What people oughta do is get outside their own house and look in for once...

2010-01-22T23:51:00.002-05:00

I seem to have taken another unintentional hiatus. Winter break involved a lot less "break" than I thought it would, but I'm back at school now and taking two more film classes this semester. Well, one is actually a French class in which we study French films. In French. This will go swimmingly, I'm sure. Anyway, I still have a whole bunch of notes and blog posts in various stages of construction from last semester, so hopefully the backlog will keep me from going off-air again for a while. For now, I'm going to pick up where I left off.

By pure convenient coincidence, I saw Hitchcock's Rear Window in my Film History class last semester on the same day that I saw his earlier film, Rope, in The Movie Industry. It was my first time watching both movies, and seeing them just a few hours apart I couldn't help comparing the two and drawing some conclusions about Hitchcock as an auteur.

To some extent, Rear Window seems to be Hitchcock's second attempt at the continuous-take effect that he first tried out in Rope. At least, he seems to have learned from his previous mistakes; Rear Window is shot with a lot of long takes and a fluidly moving camera, but there are cuts where necessary to keep the audience interested visually as well as psychologically. Additionally, there is often a lot more going on within the frame than there was in Rope. Although both films take place entirely within the confines of one apartment, Rope kept the camera confined indoors, with the large windows serving only as a backdrop and to indicate the passage of time. In Rear Window, the titular pane offers the camera -- along with protagonist L.B. Jeffries -- an escape. Through his own camera lens, Jeff can view the entire apartment building (which, by the way, was the largest set ever built at the time the film was made) or zoom in on any one residence. Likewise, there are many different areas of the screen on which the audience can concentrate during those long takes, because the frame is filled with the activities of many different interesting and eccentric minor characters.

In addition to being a great technical improvement over Rope, Rear Window is a quintessential psychological thriller. The decision to trap the camera inside with Jeff gives viewers a keen sense of his growing fear and desperation, even when they may find themselves siding with other characters who think he's off his rocker. At any given time, the audience only has as much information as Jeff does, and as a result shares his feeling of helplessness. This emotional connection, formed from the beginning of the film onward, increases the suspense felt at the film's climax, when finally Jeff begins to hear ominous footsteps outside his own door.

Think of the problems it would solve -- unemployment, poverty, standing in line for theater tickets...

2009-12-31T00:39:00.001-05:00

Many films, stories, and urban legends have been based on the 1920s Leopold and Loeb case, in which two young men decided to murder someone just to see what it would be like. Alfred Hitchcock's take on the tale, Rope, is notable for two reasons: One, it's Alfred Hitchcock, and that alone is enough to warrant a significant amount of attention. Two, he shot the entire film as one continuous take, an experiment that, while not entirely successful, is a very interesting attempt.

In actuality, the film is a series of takes about six minutes long, because at the time the film was shot that was the longest take possible. Hitchcock gets around this by using a handheld camera that follows the characters around; every six minutes or so, it just happens to come up against the back of someone's jacket or a chair or something else that's solid, giving him the time to change reels while still making the cuts completely invisible.

One very interesting shot that results from this method is that an important conversation takes place entirely offscreen. Brandon and Phillip have killed a classmate of theirs, David, and hidden his body in a large trunk in their living room, which they cover in a tablecloth and use to serve dinner at a party to which they've invited David's parents, his girlfriend, and their old schoolteacher.

Naturally, everyone is concerned when David doesn't make an appearance, but the party goes on without him (at least, as far as the other guests are aware). After they have effectively eaten off of the young man's makeshift coffin, everyone moves over to a large seating area, but the camera remains on the trunk. We hear the party guests discuss once again David's possible whereabouts, while watching the maid, Mrs. Wilson, clear dishes off of the trunk in which we know David's body is hidden; among the guests, only Jimmy Stewart, as the schoolteacher who gave his young students the (purely theoretical) idea to kill in the first place, is visible at the edge of the frame. This juxtaposition of audio and visual information creates the very tension that gave the Master Of Suspense his nickname.

The philosophical arguments presented in the film are compelling enough to make up for the lack of variation in camera work. The teacher, Rupert, postulates that a select group of superior human beings should have the right to kill those who are inferior. His reasoning is cold and academic; it is Brandon and Phillip who decide, arrogantly, that they fall into that "superior" category, and moreover, that Phillip is decidedly inferior. Once he sees how his rationale would be applied out in the real world, Rupert is appropriately horrified -- and yet, still coldly logical enough to deduce that his former students were the ones behind their classmate's disappearance.

I freak out in your dream, I freak out in my dream...

2009-12-17T20:49:00.001-05:00

There is one subject that filmmakers seem to love making films about. That subject is making films. Tom DiCillo's 1995 indie flick Living In Oblivion portrays the trials and tribulations of Nick Reve, the over-stressed director of an indie flick. Self-referential in a way that reminds me of Frederico Fellini's 8½ (more on that one later), Living In Oblivion takes the movie-about-a-movie genre in an interesting direction.

The story is told almost entirely through dream sequences, as various members of the cast and crew have nightmares about what can go very wrong in the making of a no-budget movie. I thought this was a very effective way of examining the hardships faced by independent filmmakers; it wouldn't be believable for everything possible to go wrong during the filming of a single movie, but it's absolutely believable that the people with the most to lose would worry to that extent. Thus, in 90 minutes DiCillo manages to demonstrate how many things can plague a set without beating the audience over the head with Murphy's Law.

One thing I really liked was that in the first dream sequence, the film opens up in black and white, then switches to color whenever we are shown a scene that's being filmed. Normally, I see movies or TV shows shot in color for the "real life" sequences and then switch to black and white to represent the camera's point of view. I found this reversal extremely interesting, as it seems to suggest that what's on camera is more important (more vibrant, and thus more colorful) than what's happening behind the scenes. Or I could be reading too much into it, and it could simply be a way to clue the audience in at the beginning to the fact that it's a dream sequence. Either way, I wish that this had been carried out throughout the film.

Interesting, the only part of the movie that's not a dream sequence is when the characters a filming a scene from their movie that is. Wildly over the top and exactly the kind of dream sequence produced in most stereotypical low-budget films, I kept waiting for the reveal that what we were watching took place only in someone's subconcious. However, just when I thought the movie had gotten predictable it threw a curveball at me, and ended with the most obviously unrealistic scenes as the ones that actually took place. Well played.

Some people are bullfighters, some people are politicians...

2009-12-10T00:33:00.001-05:00

The 1960s were a time of change, and the film industry was no exception. The conventions of classic Hollywood began to lose their appeal as movies found a younger audience that was more interested in experimentation. The first film schools were springing up, giving rise to a new generation of filmmakers and critics who knew not just what the rules were, but why and how to break them. Additionally, more and more films were internationally produced. Blow-Up was one of the first such pictures.

The basic plot, such as it is, sounds like a conventional mystery: A photographer discovers something odd in one of his pictures, and repeatedly blows up the negative until he uncovers a corpse in the photo and realizes that he has witnessed a murder. However, auteur Michaelangelo Antonioni -- who inspired the phenomenon known as "Antoniennui" for his supposed ability to bore audiences to death -- turns this concept into an open-ended question about the nature of reality.

The film follows Thomas, a photographer who works with models, a group he clearly disdains, in order to fund his more artistic pursuits. He is involved with one woman, although in what capacity remains deliberately unclear ("She isn't my wife, really, we just have some kids... no, no kids, not even kids."), but flirts with and seduces others, including the woman he later comes to believe attempted to have her husband killed. The narrative, until he discovers the body in the photo, seems to drift a bit aimlessly; this is perhaps what the term "Antoniennui" is referring to, although I thought the beautifully-shot film was anything but boring, including several sequences that didn't seem to go anywhere. This apparent lack of direction is very purposefully in keeping with modernist themes; not every loose end needs to be tied, or rather, most don't.

Of course, I can't end this post without talking about the mimes that bookend the film. In the opening sequence they are a loud and active contrast to the quiet, passive world the film presents us with; at the end, their game of tennis, and particularly the sound of tennis as Thomas throws the imaginary ball, suggests that truth is subjective; if you believe in something, then it's true even if it isn't necessarily factual. This could be seen as a representation of the hallucinogenics that were popular among the counter-culture at that time, stating that what you see is your reality.

I watched it get dark outside, and didn't even turn on the light...

2009-12-06T21:34:00.002-05:00

1944's Double Indemnity is considered one of the first true films noir, if not the very first. It was certainly a turning point in many ways -- as the first James M. Cain novel to be approved by the Hays Office for adaptation, it set a precedent for darker, racier material than anything that had been seen since the pre-Code era.* Like Casablanca before it, Double Indemnity is largely a product of World War II.

The darkness and shadows that help define the film are largely the result of wartime restrictions, but the absence of available lighting was artfully turned into an opportunity to further explore the bleak tone of the narrative. The famous effect of venetian blinds casting shadows across the characters' faces suggests entrapment as they find themselves living in fear of having their crime discovered. The frosted glass in the office doors makes each character's shadow often the first and last part of them that the audience sees. It's even worked into the dialogue, as in the quote I used for the title of this post. The sense of darkness that pervades the film is more than just aesthetic; it's psychological, exposing the audience to the sense of hopelessness and claustrophobia that Phyllis and Walter feel in the aftermath of murdering Phyllis' husband.

The war had other effects on Double Indemnity's production as well. To avoid government censorship from the Office of War Information, the screenplay was set in July 1938, so it was not portraying the home front in a time of war. However, this created its own problems, as many props needed to make the set look realistically pre-war were unavailable at the time of filming due to rationing. This issue was most pressing in the scenes when Walter and Phyllis meet at the grocery store. To prevent cast and crew from making off with the canned goods, undercover federal agents patrolled the set, heightening the sense of paranoia already inherent in the movie's script.

Gender and sexuality are particularly strong themes throughout the film. Phyllis Dietrichson, ever the femme fatale, is introduced from a low angle, visually giving her power over Walter Neff right from their first meeting. The dialogue involving her anklet was created specifically to get their sexual tension past the censors; the result is a conversation laced with metaphor and innuendo, the first of several throughout the film. However, Phyllis' ownership of her sexuality does not come without a price. Although both main characters have dark sides, the woman is portrayed as more evil than the man, a common theme in hard-boiled stories such as this. In the end, both characters paid for their crimes with their lives as required by the Code, but Phyllis is the first to die, and Walter's shooting her can be seen as the first step in his redemption.

*Further information on Double Indemnity and its long struggle to gain approval from the Hays Office can be found in my professor's textbook, Blackout: World War II And The Origins Of Film Noir by Sheri Chinen Biesen

Survivors Of The Blacklist, part 2

2009-11-29T01:37:00.003-05:00

I know I said I'd have this up yesterday, but I was sidelined by a fever and all the usual pleasantness that comes with it. If you missed the first half of this post, it's over this way.

There was also a portion of the discussion set aside for questions from the audience. Before you ask, no, I didn't contribute anything -- for one thing, I was in the back of a dark corner to the side of the main theater seating with no chance of being seen, and for another, I would have been much too nervous anyway! However, I did learn a lot from the questions that were asked.

One person asked about blacklisting in the TV industry. Joe Gilford pointed out that his parents were both blacklisted from television, as were a great many others, and that TV blacklisting went on longer and was possibly even nastier than its counterpart in the film industry. Victor Navasky theorized that because television was in its infancy at this time, the effects of the blacklist and the paranoia about what could and could not be said might even be at the root of current standards of decency with regards to what can't be said or shown on TV.

Someone else asked about the aftereffects of the blacklist and whether it still, in a sense, exists today, pointing out that Elia Kazan had been given an honorary Oscar for his body of work, while John Garfield has received no such recognition. In response, Lee Grant read a moving statement from John Garfield's daughter Julie, who had originally intended to be included in the panel but was unable to make it. Julie Garfield wrote about how her father's blacklisting tore apart their lives -- CBS cancelled a deal he'd had with them, ending his career; their home phone lines were tapped; and finally, the FBI tried to make him sign an affidavit accusing his own wife of Communist ties. The harassment ended only when Garfield died of a heart attack at age 39.

The next question took the evening in an unexpected direction. The widow of Budd Schulberg was in the audience, and stood up to defend her late husband's decision to voluntarily name names before HUAC. She asked the panel to consider his rationale, as he had explained it to her, which was that he had been kicked out of the Communist party for wanting to be a writer first and a political activist second; he had also become extremely distressed at the treatment of writers in Stalin's Russia, and, she said, supported the blacklist as a means of fighting what he called the "death list" in the Soviet Union. She was obviously very emotional and seemed to have a hard time making her point, understandably as she only lost her husband a few months ago, but I have to admit that at first I thought her remarks were inappropriate, given that they were directed towards people who had to live with the consequences of the decision that her husband and so many others made to cooperate with HUAC. However, this turned out to be one of the most thought-provoking moments in a night that was riddled with them.

It wasn't the panel's answers to her question that intrigued me; they seemed to be unanimous in their disagreement, as would be expected. However, Lee Grant stopped to commend the woman for having the courage to speak her piece in a room full of people who likely held the opposite point of view, and I found that very insightful. It's so tempting, when looking at any event in history, to treat it like a classical Hollywood film; there's black and there's white, there are good guys and bad guys, and everything's wrapped up neatly at the end. Obviously nothing in real life happens this way. Yes, perhaps it's possible to look back and say who did the right thing and who did not, but isn't investigating why people made the choices they did just as important as recalling what they were? There are no heroes and villains; there are only human people reacting to the circumstances in which they find themselves, and I think those of us who have only textbooks to teach us about these pieces of history can very quickly lose sight of that fact.

I'm finishing this post about two days after I started it, and it's not officially Thanksgiving anymore. However, I'd still like to end on a note of gratitude, because as a student I feel incredibly privileged to have been able to attend this event. The opportunity to hear such a momentous event, not only in film history but in American history, discussed openly by people who lived it is a rare and very valuable one. I learned a great deal, and I sincerely appreciate the efforts put in by everyone responsible for making this event happen.

Survivors Of The Blacklist, part 1

2009-11-27T02:35:00.005-05:00

Note: I had to cut this post into two parts, due to the sheer size of it. I think this subject warrants the length; I'll have the second half up tomorrow.

I find it appropriate that I'm writing this post an hour into Thanksgiving. Of all the things I'm grateful for this year, the most recent is the opportunity I had Tuesday night to attend Survivors Of The Blacklist: A Panel Discussion at the Theater at St. Clement's. Thanks to Kate Gabrielle, without whom I would never have known about this event, and to my Wednesday professors, who either cancelled class or were understanding about the high absence rates typical of Turkey Day Eve, I was able to make the trek to New York City and take advantage of this rare (and free!) opportunity.

The panel was presented by Kurt Peterson and Edmund Gaynes along with the Peccadillo Theater Company, as a tie-in to their current production, Zero Hour, a play about Zero Mostel's struggles with the blacklist and the House Un-American Activities Committee. After opening remarks by Congressman Jerrold Nadler, we were treated to a preview of this play, with TCM's Robert Osborne playing the voice-over role of the HUAC interrogator as playwright and actor Jim Brochu took the stage alone as Zero in a flashback scene in which Zero recalls his testimony, his refusal to name names, and the lives of friends that were destroyed by the blacklist. It was a very powerful scene, nonetheless infused with Zero's sense of comedic wit, and I would enthusiastically recommend anyone in the New York area to see the play if you can.

That led into the main event, which of course was the discussion. Robert Osborne was the moderator, and the panel consisted of Cliff Carpenter, actor; Jean Rouverol, actor and author of a book about the blacklist years; Victor Navasky, publisher, journalist, and author of a book about the blacklist; Lee Grant, actor and director; Jules Feiffer, playwright and cartoonist; Christopher Trumbo, writer and son of Dalton Trumbo; Kate Lardner, author and daughter of Ring Lardner, Jr.; and Joe Gilford, playwright and son of Jack Gilford and Madeline Lee.

One of the first questions posed by Robert Osborne was why the men who ran the studios weren't blacklisted; it was only the "talent," the actors, directors, and writers who were targeted, rather than the moguls who employed them. The simplest response that the panel gave was that those men weren't members of the Communist party. Jack Warner and others were apparently called to testify, but were quickly cleared of any possible connections. Later, when 19 people including the group who came to be known as the Unfriendly 10, or Hollywood 10, were subpoenaed, the studio higher-ups met at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel and announced a new policy wherein no one who had ever been connected with the Communist party would be employed by the studios. Thus, the blacklist was born. The reason that Hollywood was specifically targeted by HUAC was because movies were such a large part of American culture, and therefore a means of swaying the American public opinion.

Robert Osborne also asked how the blacklist affected the children of the writers and actors who were suddenly ostracized. Joe Gilford brought up how proud he was of his parents for fighting what they saw as an unconstitutional act by the government; he also said that he'd envied kids who had "normal" lives, but also never really knew an alternative to a childhood under the blacklist. Because Ring Lardner and Dalton Trumbo went to jail, Kate Lardner and Christopher Trumbo's lives were more disrupted by the blacklist; both mentioned moving around as a result. Finances were often a struggle for all of them, as their parents were obviously unable to work.

Cliff Carpenter was asked specifically how the blacklist affected him, and he responded with a deadpan "Not pleasantly." This drew laughter from the audience, but the rest of his answer was a very emotional recounting of his experiences. He said that at the time, CBS had two lawyers who were in charge of blacklisting employees who had been accused of having connections to Communism. He went to them in an effort to stand up for the Bill of Rights, insisting that he had never knowingly belonged to any organization that advocated the violent overthrow of the government but that the probes being conducted by the government were unconstitutional; he was told that this was not the answer they had wanted to hear, and sent home to give the matter some thought. Later, he was told that the only way he could have his own name removed from the blacklist would be to provide the names of other people to go on it. His refusal to do so cost him his career, yet even in hindsight Carpenter remained adamant that it was the only choice he could make, and that he would do it all over again if he had to.

Jean Rouveral said that she, too, would make the same choices over again. Her husband, Hugo Butler, was more targeted by HUAC than she was, and the couple left the country for about 15 years, which the spent primarily in Mexico. They were in good company; Dalton Trumbo and his family also spent time south of the border, as did other victims of the blacklist and their families. She emphasized the sense of community among the blacklistees in Mexico, a sentiment that was echoed by much of the panel, although Kate Lardner warned against casting the time in too idealistic a light. Although those who were blacklisted tried to make the best of their situations, it was still a very dark time as people struggled to support their families while being prevented from doing the work that they loved.

Poem 8

2009-11-23T00:57:00.003-05:00

Emlen Etting was an artist and experimental filmmaker who explored film as a medium for moving art, rather than narrative structure. Born into Philadelphia's high society, he grew up between the United States and Europe, and as a young man studied in Paris under the painter André Lhote. According to a biography written by my professor, With The Rich And Mighty by Dr. Kenneth Kaleta, Etting's education and social circle allowed him access to a variety of artists in Philadelphia and elsewhere; this background strongly influenced his films, particularly his earliest film, Poem 8.

As its title suggests, Poem 8 is an attempt to visually render the language of poetry. It accomplishes this partly by emphasizing motion. The film opens with a young woman dancing in a field, who represents poetic grace and rhythm. It then travels via train tracks to the bustling city. This is the first of several times that a method of transportation comes into play; other sequences feature travel by ship or by foot.

Once the camera leaves the woman in the field, it becomes another character with hands and feet visible inside the frame. The man through whose eyes the audience looks encounters women who are more cultured than the dancer, and whose routines more closely resemble those of the women in Etting's social class. They are not ungraceful, but the lack the fluid motion of the dancer in the field. In a more abstract sequence, Etting's hands are seen crushing a globe; I took this as representing the destruction of the world at the hands of those who have financial power but not artistic vision.

At the end of the film, we return to the woman in the field. She is dancing again, but this time she appears naked under a thin sheet that clings to her as she moves. This is the part of the film that I found most interesting, because it is reminiscent of the "wet drapery" effect seen in classical Greek and Roman sculpture. The sheet billowing around the dancer as she moves cinematically captures the fluidity of poetry, while at the same time the allusion to classical art brings to mind Etting's education as an artist. The use of four different mediums (film, dance, poetry, sculpture) in one image is very telling of Etting's long and dynamic career.

Don't you be the one to burst the bubble...

2009-11-20T19:44:00.003-05:00

It must be true that history repeats itself, or else time-travel exists outside the realm of science fiction. How else could I see a movie from half a century ago and mistake it for a biting social commentary on today's culture?

Picture this: Ditzy blonde is determined to get her name out there, not because she's done anything to make her worth knowing about, but simply because she craves fame for fame's sake. Pretty soon her name and face are everywhere, from TV shows to product endorsements. I could easily be talking about Paris Hilton, but in fact I'm thinking about Gladys Glover, the main character in George Cukor's It Should Happen To You.

Like a lot of today's reality stars, Gladys starts from scratch to promote herself. It isn't quite as easy for her, however. In a time before YouTube and MTV, Gladys has to be a bit more resourceful, spending her life savings to get a billboard in New York City's Columbus Circle painted with her name on it. Her new boyfriend, independent filmmaker Pete Shepherd, looks on with much disdain for the whole project; for the record, I'm on his side, but the film does a good job of presenting both characters' points of view.

The billboard creates buzz around Gladys' name, resulting in appearances on television. "Man and Wife," one of the first shows Gladys scores a spot on, is what initially led me to make the comparison to reality TV, though I think the similarities extend to all of them. The shows Gladys appears on are shown to be obviously staged, but audiences were just as gullible back then as they are now, apparently.

Gladys follows the typical path of more successful flash-in-the-pan celebrities. Fresh from making the rounds on TV, she begins endorsing products left and right. Advertisers spin her as the "average American girl," although she is clearly anything but. She becomes famous for being famous, in a cycle that perpetuates itself until finally she comes to realize the emptiness of it all and concludes that it's better to be known for something on one block than to be known for nothing throughout the world. One can only hope modern society will eventually come to the same realization.

I'm the only cause I'm interested in...

2009-11-17T18:12:00.003-05:00

I feel a little bit redundant, writing out a blog entry on Casablanca. Of all the ~~gin joints~~ movies in all the towns in all the world, I feel like nearly everyone, even non-classic film fans, has seen this one. What can there possibly be left to say about it?

As it turns out, quite a lot. Watching it in class this semester was far from my first time seeing the film, but it was my first time thinking about it in the context of wartime Hollywood. This movie, in many ways, is a product of World War II.

In 1942, when Casablanca was made, Hollywood was feeling the effects of wartime rationing just as acutely as the rest of the country. Electricity was in particularly short supply. As blackouts and brownouts rolled throughout the region, directors had to be exceptionally creative. The tight restrictions on lighting resulted in the innovative use of darkness and shadows seen throughout the film. An example from early in the movie is when Rick takes money from the safe; he is off screen, and all the audience sees is his shadow on the wall reflecting the action. What light they did have available is used very carefully; for instance, it is often reflected in Ingrid Bergman's eyes, making them shine to play up her character as the vivacious beauty for whom both Rick and Victor Lazlo would sacrifice their freedom.

For all the material restrictions that came during the second World War, many existing creative restrictions began to ease. This was in large part due to the creation of the Office Of War Information, which strictly regulated any films that depicted either the homefront or the warfront. In conflicts between the Hays Office and the OWI, the OWI always won. Many previously censorable details -- Renaud accepts sexual favors in exchange for visas, there is rampant corruption among officials, Rick and Sam have an interracial friendship, and Rick and Ilsa admit to an affair, to name a few -- got by the Production Code because they served the war effort, which was seen as the greater good. The character of Rick himself can even be seen as allegorical to the U.S. involvement in the war, going from isolationism to interventionism once the stakes are high enough.

Although Casablanca is best remembered as a simple but well-crafted love story between three people, I find it even more compelling when looked at through the lens of history. The story of how the picture we all know and love came into existence is almost as interesting as the movie itself.

With the rich and mighty, always a little patience...

2009-11-13T18:48:00.003-05:00

The Philadelphia Story is one of the few films I own on DVD, so I've seen it quite a few times. As with most good movies, though, every time I watch it I notice something new or interpret something differently. The intricate plot and array of interesting characters hold up well over repeating viewings. This was definitely the case when I watched it earlier this semester in The Movie Industry.

Though The Philadelphia Story is a comedy, it touches on some very serious themes. Questions about the nature of femininity are prevalent throughout the film. Tracy is a modern and independent woman; too independent, according to some of the men in her life. Her father, Seth Lord, outrageously blames her for his affair, claiming that if she had been a better daughter he wouldn't need to look elsewhere for a young woman's affection to make him feel young. He calls her a "goddess," stating that she wants nothing more than to be placed on a pedestal and worshipped. George, her fiancé, also misapprehends her this way, but unlike Seth he has no problem with Tracy's allegedly goddess-like persona. Tracy herself is more alarmed by the label; at one point she explains, "I don't want to be worshipped, I want to be loved." It seems only her ex-husband, C.K. Dexter Haven, is capable of seeing through her stand-offish persona to tell the difference between the two.

The other major theme of the movie is class differences. Most of the major characters -- that is, Tracy, her family, and Dexter -- were born into Philadelphia's high society, a subject that was of particular interest in my South Jersey college classroom. They are sharply contrasted with the nouveau-riche George as well as the working-class tabloid reporters, Mike and Liz.

My professor paid particular attention to the difference between the poor, who create art, and the rich, who patronize the artists. Mike is a writer; he works for the tabloid solely as a means of supporting itself, as he could not do with his fiction, but nevertheless he is paid to write in some form or another. Liz is a photographer. Both of these professions are inherently creative. The two characters who lack money are also portrayed as the only two who have artistic talent; the other characters contribute to the arts by funding that talent, not by producing any works themselves.

Of course, the film plays with class stereotypes as well, such as when Tracy calls Mike a "snob," as well as their drunken flirtation the night of Tracy's wedding, culminating in Mike's offer to marry her in George's place. In the end, however, everyone ends up with members of their own class: Tracy with Dexter, Seth with Margaret, Mike with Liz... and George off by himself, because the moral of the story is that nobody likes new money.

Take Hitler and stick him on the funny page...

2009-10-16T18:16:00.002-04:00

Exciting things happened this week! After months of resistance, I finally came over to the dark side and joined Twitter. If you scroll down a bit, you'll find my inane ramblings (okay; you'll find my other, shorter inane ramblings) in the sidebar.

...But that's not the exciting thing (even I'm not that Internet-obsessed). The exciting thing is that I'm now officially a Radio/TV/Film major. To celebrate my finally getting off my arse and filling out paperwork, I'm going to get off my arse (though not literally, as I type faster when seated) and write a blog post. 'Bout time.

I loved His Girl Friday the first time that I saw it, but after watching it in class earlier this semester, I found that I have a whole new appreciation for the film since I've also seen its predecessor, The Front Page. The two are nearly identical in places, save for the one small detail of Hildy Johnson's gender. Howard Hawks took quite a risk there, and I have to say it paid off; for once I prefer the remake to the original.

His Girl Friday is known, of course, for it's fast-paced and witty dialogue, which even has the characters talking over each other at times, presenting realistic exchanges that are quite unlike most classical Hollywood films. To balance the speed of the action, Hawks shot the film at a slower pace, using long takes wherever possible to keep the audience from getting overwhelmed. However, he also wasn't afraid to use montage at key points to emphasize, for example, the frenetic mood of the press room after escaped inmate Earl was found hiding in a roll-top desk almost literally under the reporters' noses. The montage editing was also used to quickly recap the action, as each of the reporters gave their own small -- and sometimes false or contradictory -- piece of the story. The varied camerawork keeps the film from looking too much like a staged play, despite the fact that much of it takes place in only one room.

The clever script included a few inside jokes. For example, Ralph Bellemy's character was described as looking like Ralph Bellemy -- personally, I couldn't see any resemblence whatsoever -- and the last man who said he had Cary Grant's character licked was called Archie Leach, which happens to be Grant's real name. Many of the film's jokes had a much darker tone, however, including minor character Molly's suicide attempt being played for laughs. Surprisingly edgy, this movie is a shining example of a black comedy.

Round up the usual suspects...

2009-10-13T21:42:00.005-04:00

...it's time for another meme! This one comes courtesy of Amanda at A Noodle In A Haystack.

1. What is your all-time favorite Clark Gable movie?
I've seen woefully few, but for now I'm going to have to go with It Happened One Night. It was one of the first classic films I owned on DVD, which is fortunate because it's one of those movies I never get tired of rewatching.

2. Do you like Joan Crawford best as a comedienne or a drama-queen?
I don't recall having seen any of her comedic roles, so I have to go with drama by default. What a dull answer.

3. In your opinion, should Ginger Rogers have made more musicals post-Fred Astaire?
I'm a bit conflicted. On the one hand, it's possible she would have gotten more recognition for her own dancing abilities if she hadn't been in Fred's shadow. On the other hand, I absolutely loved her later dramatic performances, so I wouldn't want her to be pigeonholed into just doing musicals.

4. I promise not to cause you bodily (or any other serious) harm if you don't agree with me on this one. So please be honest: do you like Elizabeth Taylor? Hm?
For the longest time all I knew about Elizabeth Taylor was that she'd had a lot of husbands and had appeared as Helena on General Hospital (don't judge me; the Cassadines were awesome). Then I happened to stumble upon her in some movie I can't even remember the title of anymore, and vaguely recall being pleasantly surprised. Of course that's not nearly enough to say that I do like her, but I think I might if I saw more of her performances.

5. Who is your favorite offscreen Hollywood couple?
Has to be Bogie and Bacall. Although, that's less about them and more about a certain scene in Robert Olen Butler's Hell (an absolutely hilarious read, by the way).

6. How about onscreen Hollywood couple?
Opposite problem: I'm having a hard time just picking one. I think I'll have to go with Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant, because although they only did two films together, I thought their chemistry was off the charts.

7. Favorite Jean Arthur movie?
I loved her as smart, slightly jaded Clarissa Saunders in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.

8. What was the first Gregory Peck movie you saw?
I believe it was The Scarlet and the Black in my 8th grade Religion class. Of course, this was long before I knew who Gregory Peck was and why I should pay attention to him; actually, I probably saw To Kill A Mockingbird the same year.

9. What film made you fall in love with Alfred Hitchcock? (And for those of you that say, "I don't like Hitchcock" -- what is wrong with you?!)
It was definitely Notorious for me. I just loved the plot, and of course the performances.

10. What is your favorite book-to-movie adaption?
I can't really answer this, because I still tend to avoid movies based on books I already love. Granted, now that I'm learning about how films are made and why they're necessarily different from literature, I'm definitely letting go of a lot of my old anti-adaptation biases, but I'm still not seeking them out either.

11. Do you prefer Shirley Temple as a little girl or as a teenager?
To be honest... neither. *ducks*

12. Favorite character actor?
Thelma Ritter, definitely.

13. Favorite Barbara Stanwyck role?
This might be influenced by the fact that I've just seen it again, but I'll go with her peformance as femme fatale Phyllis Dietrichson Double Indemnity.

14. Who is your favorite of Cary Grant's leading ladies?
I feel like I've already answered this above, so I'll change course and go with Irene Dunne. They just play off each other incredibly well, in both comedic and dramatic roles.

15. Bette Davis or Joan Crawford?
Finally, an easy question!

16. What actors and/or actresses do you think are underrated?
Hmm. I might have to get back to you on that one.

17. What actors and/or actresses do you think are overrated?
That's a lot easier. Sorry, Marlon Brando, but I'm going to have to agree with Lolita on that one.

18. Do you watch movies made pre-1980 exclusively, or do you spice up your viewing-fare with newer films?
There are some 80's and 90's and even 00's films (Heathers, Reality Bites, Serenity) that still hold a special place in my heart and on my DVD shelf. I'll occasionally watch new-ish (by which I mean, "released during my lifetime") flicks of my own volition, but more often than not it's peer pressure.

19. Is there an actor/actress who you have seen in a film and immediately loved? If so, who?
Bette Davis. I've told this story before, but last year on what would have been her 100th birthday I sat down to a marathon of her films at 10a.m., and was absolutely transfixed until I forced myself to go to bed around 4 the next morning.

20. Gene Kelly or Fred Astaire?
Fred Astaire. Sorry, Gene.

21. Favorite Ginger Rogers drama?
It's hard to pick, but I loved Stage Door.

22. If you wrote a screenplay, who would be in your dream cast and what roles would they play? (Mixing actors and actresses from different generations is allowed: any person from any point in their career.)
This is a particularly hard question for me, because I'm taking a screenwriting class this semester and quickly discovering that it is not my format. But I'm on a bit of a House kick thanks to some friends, and I'd kind of like to see Bette Davis playing the good girl up against Hugh Laurie.

23. Favorite actress?
Bette Davis

25. Favorite actor?
Claude Rains

26. And now, the last question. What is your favorite movie from each of these genres:
Drama: You need to ask?
Romance: Casablanca
Musical: Top Hat
Comedy: The Philadelphia Story
Western: Don't watch them.
Hitchcock (he has a genre all to himself): Notorious

I detest cheap sentiment...

2009-10-09T19:46:00.004-04:00

...but I have to take a moment to stop and point out that this blog started a year ago today. That's about ten months longer than I expected it to last, to be honest, but what started as a class project has given me the outlet it turns out I really needed to explore my newfound interest in classic film.

And of course, I wouldn't have stuck with it (even as sporadically as I have) if it hadn't been for all of you awesome people out there, leaving me comments and maintaining blogs much wittier and better-informed than my own. Thank you all for the support you've given me over the past year; I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship. ♥

Before there were blogs, Bette Davis had to use paper! *gasp*

Audiences don't know somebody sits down and writes a picture. They think the actors make it up as they go along...

2009-10-02T18:27:00.002-04:00

An actual post, about an actual movie, in this blog? Quelle suprise! Actually, I'm supposed to be keeping "film journals" for two of my classes this semester, which works out extremely well for me seeing as how I already have one.

The first film I watched in The Movie Industry this semester was Billy Wilder's Sunset Blvd. This 1950 noirish drama stars the fabulous Gloria Swanson, herself a silent film star who successfully negotiated the transition to sound, as an aging actress who wasn't nearly so lucky. Norma Desmond has the overbearing presence of a great star, which belies her fragile and childlike nature. She relies on her ex-husband-turned-butler Max and, later, the hapless writer Joe Gillis to perpetuate the illusion of her relevence in a culture that's long since forgotten her.

The setting largely seems to reflect Norma's character. Her house is decrepit and filled with the badly-preserved remnants of her glory days, including numerous photos of herself in her prime -- as Gillis says, "that's all she wanted to see." My professor pointed out a resemblence between Norma's sprawling old mansion and that of Miss Havisham, and although it's been years since I've read Great Expectations I found myself coming back to that analogy all throughout the film. Norma's old photos and silent film reels evoked the same feelings I got from Miss Havisham's stopped clocks; namely, the sense of a character trying desperately (even pathetically) to literally suspend time.

Norma's insistence on living in the past seems to be infective. Max and Gillis willingly cut themselves off from the outside world, although Gillis eventually rebels, and even Cecil B. DeMille is drawn into protecting Norma from learning that time has moved on without her. They become Norma's supporting cast as she stars in her own daily melodrama; when Gillis begins to deviate from the "script," she finally loses the plot entirely.

When Norma is arrested for Gillis' murder at the end, ever-loyal Max makes sure that she gets her audience one last time. At this, I'm left to wonder if anything in Norma's life really will change. After all, has her spacious, hollow mansion with the big iron bars on the door ever been anything but a prison to which she willingly sentenced herself? As the camera zooms in for the last time on Norma's gastly face, I get the sense that she will go on being a star in her own mind regardless of what happens to her.

We'll always have Paris...

2009-09-09T19:50:00.001-04:00

Remember what I said about missing Rowan internet? Yeah. That statement didn't come back to bite me or anything. Sheesh.

But I'm back at school, and this is going to be a great semester for film blogging -- I'm declaring a second major in Radio/Television/Film, with an emphasis on critical studies. My original major is Writing Arts with a concentration in Creative Writing; this results, for example, in a Wednesday schedule that looks something like watch a movie, read some poetry, watch another movie. All during class time. I love college.

However, before I get too far into the school year, I still have to finish telling you about how I spent my summer. And so, with no further ado, I present to you what was probably my other favorite place in Paris...

Voilà, la Cinémathèque Française!

La Cinémathèque is a film history museum located in Bercy, Paris. It houses artifacts stretching back to the days of the Lumière brothers and earlier, a permanent exhibit on Georges Méliès, a library, and at the time I was there, an exhibit on Jacques Tati, among other cinematic jewels. Unfortunately, photography was not permitted inside the museum, but in lieu of pictures I made sure to take notes!

The general museum takes up two floors. Among the treasures on display downstairs were original sketches of the set of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, a reproduction of the robot from Metropolis, and the head of Mrs. Bates from Psycho. A collection of costumes included a dress worn by Elizabeth Taylor in Little Women, Mae West's turban from Belle Of The 90s, jewelry that Theda Bara wore in A Girl In Every Port, and my personal pièce de résistance, the dress that Ann Baxter wore as the title character accepted the Sarah Siddons award in All About Eve.

Upstairs, there was some information about the history of la Cinémathèque itself, including several telegrams protesting the firing of its founder, Henri Langlois, a scandal that ultimately caused the temporary closure of the whole museum. The names adorning these messages include Otto Preminger, Vincente Minelli, George Cukor, Charlie Chaplin, Fritz Lang, Stanley Kubrick, and Orson Welles, among others. An honorary Oscar awarded to Langlois was also on display, as were early posters and logos for la Cinémathèque.

The Méliès exhibit, located on another floor separate from the main museum, was comprised of two rooms linked by a dark and narrow hallway befitting the mysterious air of the man himself. The first room focused mainly on his career as a magician and his love of illusion; it included the 35mm film projector he built for use at the Robert-Houdin Theater in 1896, some of his early stage costumes, and other artifacts from his time in the theater. The second room was dedicated to his directorial career. On display there were hand-tinted photographs from the late 19th century, a model of Studio A, photographs of Studio A taken before its destruction in 1945, and drafts of posters for Voyage Dans La Lune. Additionally, Voyage Dans La Lune was playing in loop on a small screen suspended from the ceiling. There was only one folding chair on the floor in front of it, but as I was perusing the exhibit several people were standing around watching. Isn't it wonderful to know that, nearly a century later, this early masterpiece can still draw a crowd?

Did I miss Christmas?

2009-08-26T17:59:00.000-04:00

Seems like I'm always neglecting this thing, doesn't it? Forgive the reappearing/disappearing/reappearing act, guys; I've been unexpectedly without internet for much of the past month, forced to spend my spare time foraging for free wireless signals and cursing Mother Nature. You see, we've enjoyed some lovely summer storms around here lately, and one of them took out my dad's computer, my sister's computer, and the router that connects my computer to both of theirs. Fixing this has taken much longer than any of us anticipated, but thankfully I'll be back on campus by Sunday. I never thought I'd be in a position to miss Rowan's meager internet, but such is life.

In the meantime, I still need to go through all my film-related notes from Paris, but I'll tell you about a lovely surprise I had in a theater right here in Jersey. Have you seen The Time-Traveler's Wife? I went with my mom and sister last week, and to be honest I wasn't expecting all that much. I was pleasantly surprised in a couple of ways, not least of which was when a clip from this film popped up on-screen. I'll have you know I was quite proud of myself for being able to identify it immediately, although come to think of it after the number of times I've seen that movie, being able to pick it out by one scene is hardly an accomplishment.

Er, for those who haven't seen the movie yet and plan to, the above has absolutely nothing to do with any plot spoilers, but you might not want to click that link if you'd rather be surprised. Also, you might not want to read the rest of this post, which may in fact contain spoilers.

For everyone else: What did you think of the reference? I admit, after my initial "Y HELO THAR I KNOW YOU, MOVIE" buzz wore off, I had to kind of question why the filmmaker chose that particular scene of that particular movie. I mean, okay, I get it, Bette Davis is drunkenly rambling about time and the male protagonist here travels through time and neither of them feels they have enough time. But being so familiar with the film from which that one clip is taken, I can't really divorce it from its original context. On first viewing, I really didn't see a parallel between Henry and Miss Judith Traherne. She, in that clip, has just found out she's going to die; he travels back to, in a sense, relive various parts of his life over and over and over again. As much as I appreciate any opportunity to throw in a Bette Davis reference, I just wasn't sure it fit.

However, after talking to my mom about it a bit as we left the theater, it started to make a little more sense. Now, after typing up all the reasons why it originally confused me, I'm actually starting to see the connections between Henry and Judy. Henry's condition, we're told, is neurological and cannot be cured... just like Judy's. Both Henry and Judy are burdened with the knowledge of when they're going to die, and both movies involve a man keeping that knowledge from the woman he loves (and both deal somewhat with the fallout of that secrecy).

The more I think about it, the more I'm sold on the idea. Anyone want to add another $.02? Or if you have't seen The Time-Traveler's Wife, or Dark Victory, or both, then why don't you tell me about the last time you saw a classic film incorporated into a more modern work, and how you think that was handled?

Bonjour, salut, and âllo...

2009-08-09T19:36:00.004-04:00

Hello, all! Sorry for the long absence; my internet connection in France was surprisingly spotty, my free time was unsurprisingly short, and I've been working nonstop since I've been back. That's all over now though, and I have three weeks in which to catch my breath and catch up on everything before I go back to school. I have a whole slew of movies (both old and not-so-much) to ramble about, but first I thought I'd dip my toes back into the proverbial blogging water by sharing a few film-related experiences I had in Paris.

First off, in my after-class wanderings I stumbled upon what might just be my favorite place in the whole city. The Bibliothèque due Cinéma François-Truffaut is an entire library dedicated to film history, with books in both French and English. It's located in the underground shopping mall/cultural center/métro station in Les Halles, right next door to the Forum des Images, a cinema and instructional center with thousands of archived films I unfortunately did not get the chance to peruse. I could have happily camped out here for the entire month, but as there was much else to do I settled for a quick snapshot and a single evening of browsing the stacks. (Apologies for the poor picture quality; my camera was on the wrong setting and I didn't want to make my friend stand there and take it again.)

My second great discovery came in a poster shop in Montmartre. They had stacks and stacks of classic film posters in English and French, but when I saw this French version of Bringing Up Baby I just had to have it. I limited myself to just this one purchase, but I did go back to that shop again to look for more. I would have felt kind of silly coming home from Paris with a suitcase full of English-language movie posters, but I was so, so very tempted.

That's about it for now. There's one more place that gets its own post before I go back to talking about movies, but first I'm going to go watch Notorious and catch up on my blogroll.

Crazy Eights

2009-05-16T22:44:00.002-04:00

Since Lolita, Ginger, and Nicole were all kind enough to tag me, I thought I'd take some time out of our irregularly scheduled movie-related rambling to do this meme. I'm not sure who's left that hasn't been tagged, so I'll just be lazy and tag everyone.

8 Things I Look Forward To
1. Studying in Paris! I'll be there for all of June in a Fine Arts program, taking Contemporary French Cinema and Art & Architecture of Paris, and hopefully brushing up on my français on the side.
2. Shopping, in preparation for the aforementioned trip. My wardrobe sorely needs updating from the ripped jeans I've been bumming around campus in all year.
3. Being able to relax for the next couple of weeks, now that I'm done with finals.
4. Getting back onto a less insane sleeping pattern. I actually miss waking up before noon.
5. Seeing the Gaslight Anthem perform live again. This may or may not happen while I'm in Paris, but if it doesn't then I'll definitely catch them the next time they come back to Jersey.
6. Going back to Rowan in the fall. I miss my friends, I miss my apartment, I... even kind of miss my classes.
7. Expanding my DVD collection. Which brings me to...
8. Having a disposable income. Or even simply an income. I must remind myself how much I look forward to this, because I certainly do not look forward to returning to my summer job.

8 Things I Did Yesterday
1. Woke up.
2. Laundry. Lots of it.
3. Relived the '90s via the first two discs of Beverly Hills 90210, season 1. I still think Brenda Walsh is the most realistic fictional teenager ever invented.
4. Spent some quality time with the internet.
5. Listened to "Engines" by Snow Patrol multiple times. Set a line from that song as my Facebook status without knowing my roommate had been using it as an away message, thereby accidentally managing to convince a mutual friend that there's a conspiracy afoot.
6. Ingested more caffeine than is probably healthy in any 24-hour period.
7. Played the Sims 2 until I got annoyed with my slow laptop.
8. Tinkered with the layout on my Dreamwidth blog. Gave up tinkering and picked a premade layout as a placeholder.

8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1. Learn languages easily. I've been working on French on and off for seven years, and I'm nowhere near fluent.
2. Find a profitable way of combining writing with film history.
3. Cook. I can feed myself adequately, if I have to, but I wish I had the desire to try it more often.
4. Sit down with some of the important figures in film history and talk about what went on in their time periods from their perspectives.
5. Sit down with Joss Whedon and talk about why exactly going back to Fox seemed like a good idea, and also, can we have more Victor pretty pretty please?
6. Finish writing something without having a grade and/or the shame of losing NaNoWriMo dangled in front of me like a carrot on a stick.
7. Be a professional student.
8. Invent a weather-controlling machine.

8 Shows I Watch
1. Dollhouse... which is actually the only show I've actively been following this season, so the rest are DVDs and/or reruns on TV.
2. House
3. Family Guy
4. Supernatural
5. Firefly
6. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
7. The X-Files
8. Beverly Hills 90210
9. Scrubs
10. And of course, anything on TCM.

Now just because you got your neck washed, you think you're a gentleman...

2009-05-13T23:33:00.001-04:00

The semester's finally over, which hopefully means I'll have a couple of weeks free to catch up on all the TCM I've been missing. I did have the chance to watch one movie in between finals, parties, presentations, and move-out last week, and naturally it was the one starring Bette Davis: Bordertown.

Of course, the film really centers on Paul Muni's character, Johnny Ramirez. After studying for five years to become a lawyer, Johnny's first real case reveals that his education just didn't match up to that of his richer opponent. He devotes himself to earning as much money as possible, and moves from L.A. to a town on the Mexican-American border, where he gets a job working for casino owner Charlie Roark. Now, Johnny didn't leave his law practice behind just to be a bartender -- he climbs the ladder all the way up to the top, becoming Charlie's partner. So our protagonist made good. The end, right?

Not even close. Charlie has somehow (and we're not explicitly told how) procured for himself a young, feisty wife who's quite interested in Johnny -- and who wouldn't be? Marie Roark actively despises her husband, though he's oblivious and Johnny just plays dumb. In fact, Ramirez tells her outright that he's more interested in money than in her, but since the plot wouldn't move very far if she respected that, Marie is just crazy enough not to care, and just crazy enough to do something about it when the opportunity presents itself:

As the film progresses, Marie slowly goes mad with guilt or paranoia, becoming ever more obsessed with the man she killed her husband for. While doing his best to ignore her, Johnny pursues a relationship with the woman who cost him his law career almost as relentlessly as Marie pursues him, although with much better results. Up to a point, at least.

It's impossible to discuss this movie without discussing the ending, so if you haven't seen it this might be your cue to turn elsewhere. For the rest of you: The film seems to be sending mixed messages about the status of Mexican-Americans. On the one hand, Johnny is presented as an intelligent and capable character; his love interests are two white American women, and his friends and employees all seem to like and respect him. On the other hand, there's, well, everything else.

To be fair, although there are incidents of racism scattered throughout the film, it feels much more like an accurate portrayal of the way these characters would act and think than an actual statement the movie is trying to make. Miss Elwell calls Johnny "Savage" because that's how she sees him; the audience is not necessarily meant to agree. Then suddenly at the end, the message is "go back to your own kind," the implication being that Johnny somehow isn't worthy of the society he's been functioning just fine in up until then? It feels like something that was tacked on to appease the general audience of the time, rather than an organic conclusion to the story. It would have felt more natural to have Johnny go back because he had an epiphany about losing sight of the people he'd originally intended to help, making the character come full circle rather than simply hit a brick wall.

Clearly the ending didn't age well at all, but I still enjoyed the movie as a whole. Bette Davis excels at bringing the crazy, and Paul Muni sizzles with every woman he shares screen time with.

I can see what's good, tell me the rest...

2009-04-30T21:57:00.004-04:00

My Little Chickadee is the perfect film to see Mae West playing Mae West. It's also the first film in which I've seen Mae West at all, but she was well represented throughout my childhood in icons ranging from Betty Boop to Jessica Rabbit. I'd always taken those to be caricatures -- greatly exaggerated portrayals of Mae's most famous habits. I was actually surprised at the feeling of déjà vu that I got upon seeing Mae speak those first lines from inside her carriage. I had definitely seen this somewhere before.

Of course, as close as the cartoons I grew up with came to the real thing, nobody can do Mae West like Mae West. The slinky walk, the batting eyelashes, the smokey delivery of each and every line... The actress definitely overshadowed the character, but I can't say I didn't find her fascinating to watch anyway. I tend to be drawn to larger-than-life performers, so I can easily see myself becoming a big fan of Mae.

I found it a bit funny that after the film, Robert Osbourne said Mae West had been angry because she'd been overshadowed by her co-star and co-writer, W.C. Fields. Don't get me wrong, Fields' performance was stellar (and quite a bit more dynamic than Mae's), but my eyes were on her the whole time.

Mae West's Mae West-ness aside, I really enjoyed this movie. The script was witty, although not all of the jokes hold up in the present day. Still, it was a fun film that pitted two great performers against each other. Regardless of what they thought of each other when the cameras weren't rolling, the way they shone together was timeless.

What a charmer!

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

2009-04-27T22:14:00.000-04:00

I finally did it. After years of hearing about this movie, after being dragged to the Von Trapp ~~tourist trap~~ house on a family vacation, after never having had even the slightest desire to see this film, I finally broke down and watched The Sound Of Music.

This is the part where I'm supposed to renounce my prior disdain for the movie and admit I just didn't know what I was missing, isn't it? Sorry, kids, but the best I can do on that front is just to say that it wasn't as bad as I had been bracing myself for.

The main problem I had was Saint Maria. She was just too good to be true -- and this was even after I'd just watched "Practically Perfect" Mary Poppins. It wasn't Maria herself, or Julie Andrews' portrayal, that I had a problem with; what bothered me most was the way that other characters talked about her, particularly the other nuns. "How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?" Really? I hate it when characters' flaws are excused or benevolently tolerated for no reason. Even in a children's story, I think it just makes that character feel flat.

The story itself felt like it should have been two different movies. First there's a would-be nun acting as governess to a widower's children; she gains the children's trust and falls in love with her employer, and there are a few mentions of the political climate strewn about here and there. They live happily ever after until someone decides the movie was too short, so hold on a second -- there's Nazis! Maybe it was because I'd expected the main plot to be about the family's escape from occupied Austria, but the entire ending felt tacked-on to me.

Maybe if I'd grown up with this movie, I would have liked it better. I did enjoy parts of it, but it isn't a film I'd actively seek out to watch again.

Jane says to Michael, "I know of a man with a wooden leg named Smith." And Michael says, "Really? What's the name of his other leg?"

2009-04-15T22:42:00.002-04:00

On Easter Sunday, I woke up to two things: A chocolate bunny, and Mary Poppins. The latter I watched twice over the course of the day, so I feel extra prepared for this post.

Of course, watching Disney movies as one of the grown-ups is an entirely different experience. When I was little, I had no idea what the woman's suffrage movement was, and I had never seen someone trying to make a living by performing on the street. I accepted these, and the myriad other aspects of the film that didn't match up with my middle-class American upbringing, without much thought. Odd how its those same details, the ones I'd always just skipped over as a child, that most hold my interest now.

The most poignant scene in the film by far is Mr. Banks' late walk through the deserted London streets on his way to being fired. It was never something I paid attention to as a kid -- after all, where was the Mary Poppins magic or animation? -- but I now find it riveting. Here's a man who is just starting, with the help of Bert, to realize how screwed up his priorities are. His entire worldview is in the process of being shaken, and before he has the chance to get his bearings, the one thing he's valued most is about to be pulled out from under him. To the credit of David Tomlinson, the audience can see the confusion in Banks' face when he pauses at the place where Michael had wanted to feed the birds. It's clear that he's still not quite sure what it all means.

I really liked that the parents -- particularly Mr. Banks -- were such an integral part of the story, to the point of having side plots of their own. It's a more interesting alternative to the static or absent parents in many Disney films.

One thing that hasn't changed about my perception of this movie is the "Step In Time" number. It's always been one of my favorite choreographed sequences in film. As I was watching on Sunday morning, I started reading some of the trivia on IMDB, and I saw that they had to film this scene twice because of a scratch on the original film. I tried to find more information on this number, but my Google-fu is failing me today. I did find a clip, at least.

Can you imagine having to nail this twice?

He's the perfect example of that dying race, unpressed gentleman of the press...

2009-03-31T23:33:00.002-04:00

It feels like I've had this entry sitting, half-finished, on my computer for almost a month. Sorry, guys; school's been eating all my free time lately, and just when I think I've found a way to make it work to my advantage, it goes and devours some more. Anyway...

This blog started as a combination of my personal and academic pursuits. Through sheer coincidence, those two parts of my life are crossing paths here once again. I spent much of one Sunday, a few weeks ago, reading The Elements of Journalism by Bill Kovach and Tom Rosenstiel for my Evaluating Writing class. I woke up the next morning to find my school closed, and a journalism-themed marathon on TCM. How's that for timing?

I sat down that afternoon wondering, dork that I am, if I'd be able to pick out any of Kovach and Rosenstiel's lessons in the careers of these fictional characters. One of the issues in journalism, though skimmed over in the book, jumped out at me immediately in Teacher's Pet. The question alluded to by these writers and posed by the movie script is whether and to what extent education is necessary, or even desirable, in journalism.

By the time Kovach and Rosenstiel's book was published in 2001, journalism schools had long been a part of the business. Its effectiveness, however, was not universally accepted among journalists. Yes, Jim Gannon is alive and well, although the nature of journalism has undergone some changes since this film was made. The fundamental argument made by Clark Gable's character seems to still hold water to a certain extent, even today. On page 155, Kovach and Rosenstiel make note of "the degree to which journalists, compared with other professionals, failed to communicate the lessons of one generation to the next." They go on to state that "hairdressers have more continuing education than journalists." I'm sure my journalism-major friends would dispute this, but it's an interesting idea. What ultimately constitutes an "education" in journalism: the Poynter Institute, or the School of Hard Knocks?

In the film, James Gannon firmly believes in the latter. A high school drop-out who worked his way up to editor of the city paper, Gannon at first holds all education in pure contempt -- "The important thing is he's had no experience," is how he dismisses his rival for Erica Stone's affections, the pretentious Dr. Hugo Pine. "He didn't start at the bottom and work up. That's the only way you can learn." His opinion on the matter is made very clear early in the film, when a distraught mother asks him to fire her son so that the boy will go back to school. Gannon ignores her, confident the boy will fare much better under his wing. Shortly thereafter, he discovers a certain journalism teacher has a particularly low opinion of him and decides to do some undercover reporting, for his own edification of course.

Miss Stone, played by Doris Day, represents everything that Gannon abhors: "Amateurs teaching amateurs how to be amateurs." A former reporter and the daughter of a well-respected editor, Erica Stone decided to teach "for the same reason that occasionally a musician wants to be a conductor; he wants to hear a hundred people play music the way he hears it." She believes that carefully training reporters in the art of explaining not just what happened but why and how is the only way for print journalism to overcome the blow it was dealt by television newscasts. When a mild-mannered older gentleman who introduces himself as James Gallagher appears in her classroom, she sees in him the potential to be a great reporter -- if only he had a little bit more schooling.

Naturally, Gannon-as-Gallagher attempts to be as antagonistic as possible towards the unsuspecting Erica without actually giving himself away. And naturally, this being a romantic comedy, he finds himself falling in love with her despite her wildly different approach to the job he's spent much of his life married to. His growing attraction to Erica opens his mind to her side of the debate, and he even comes to question his own self-worth, especially after a night on the town with his well-educated competition. He begins to think that formal education may very well be the best path to becoming a journalist -- until he sees what a well-educated editor who lacks reporting experience can do to a front page. Unfortunately this boost to his self-esteem comes courtesy of Erica's late father, which has the expected consequences for their relationship, but it also leads to interesting conclusions from a journalistic perspective. Good instincts, after all, can't be taught.

Neither the film nor the debate ends there, but I won't spoil the ending. Everyone should see this movie; it's a hilarious romantic comedy if you aren't interested in journalism, and if you are, it raises some important points that are still valid today. In fact, with the rise of amateur internet-based reporting and the uncertain future of print journalism, this film may become even more relevant with time.

So they were turning after all, those cameras...

2009-03-12T00:40:00.003-04:00

Nicole started this questionnaire, and I thought I'd play too.

Who was the first actor/actress that you were first interested in?
Bette Davis. Last year on what would have been her 100th birthday, TCM aired a 24-hour marathon of her films. I had only just gotten into classic films at that point and had only seen her in All About Eve and Jezebel, so I tuned in to see what all the fuss was about. I ended up leaving it on from 10 a.m. to 4 a.m.

How old were you when you really began watching old movies?
18.

What was the first old movie that caught your interest?
Penny Serenade

Who is currently your favorite actor?
I'm not sure I really have one. I guess I tend to gravitate toward Cary Grant.

Who is currently your favorite actress?
Bette Davis

What is your favorite old movie and why?
All About Eve. The script and the performances are all absolutely dazzling.

How many old movies do you own?
Probably about 35. I don't have them with me, so it's hard to count them by memory.

How many old movies do you have recorded/ on the dvr?
None. I don't have a DVR, and my VCR is hooked up to a TV that doesn't get TCM.

If you could go back in time and visit any actor/actress, who would it be?
I'm not sure I would go. I think it would shatter the mystique of these big classic Hollywood stars.

Who is one actor/actress that you want to know more about?
Lately I've been curious about Greta Garbo.

What film could you watch over and over again?
All About Eve. I think at this point even my roommate has it memorized.

What is your favorite Hitchcock film?
Notorious. I wish Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman had done more films together; they were great here and in Indiscreet.

Who is your favorite director?
This is a tough call. Probably Frank Capra.

Excuse me, kids, I've won a prize...

2009-03-10T01:24:00.004-04:00

To celebrate TCM's 31 Days of Oscar, Raquelle recently held a contest to give away TCM U notebooks. My name was one of those pulled from her magic hat, and this afternoon I received this lovely prize in the mail!

Excuse the weird flash at the top; the cover's nice and shiny! Inside, it has a couple of pages with little descriptions of each "college" in the TCM University.

Then the rest is regular notebook paper with the TCM U logo at the top of each page. I'm thinking I might use this for a classic-film scrapbook of some sort; naturally there will be more pictures if and when this happens.

Many, many thanks to Raquelle!

I will regard this great honor not so much as an award for what I have achieved, but a standard to hold against what I have yet to accomplish...

2009-03-08T23:43:00.004-04:00

The lovely and talented Wendymoon has gifted me with the Premio Dardos award. I'm really quite honored. For those just tuning in, here's what that pretty picture up there means:

The Dardos Award is given for cultural, literary, and personal values in the form of creative and original writing. These stamps were created with the intention of promoting fraternization between bloggers, a way of showing appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web.

By accepting this award, it's now my privilege to turn the spotlight onto five other bloggers. I'd like to encourage you all to check out All Talking! All Singing! All Dancing!, Cinema Splendor, Hollywood Dreamland, Silents and Talkies, and Classic Hollywood Nerd. Some of these blogs have received this already, but I think they're all deserving so hopefully those authors will forgive the repetition.

I promise I'll start actually trying to live up to this real soon. I've got a post in the works right now that actually involves ~research~ (yes, I'm getting quite fancy over here) but I'm hoping to finish it up within the next couple of days. And of course, now that I've said that I have to...

Your mom's an architect...

2009-02-27T23:15:00.002-05:00

It's been quiet around here -- too quiet. School unfortunately has a way of cutting into my movie-viewing time, but today it made up for that by presenting me with quite a lovely opportunity. I'm going to break here from my usual classic-movie theme to talk about a more current independent film, Happy Birthday, Harris Malden. Why? Well, because one of the actor/writer/director/producers went to my school, and today he and one of his buddies came by the Honors film series to show us their movie and were kind enough to stick around and talk to us afterward.

The movie centers around a man (named, if you can't guess, Harris Malden) who for much of his life has drawn his facial hair. In the shelter of his community on Franklin Street in Philadelphia, this is all well and good; there is a silent agreement among Harris' friends and neighbors to never, ever bring it up. It's left up to Harris' best friend, Paul, to keep him from venturing out of the neighborhood, but when Paul can't keep the outside world -- in the form of his obnoxious girlfriend, Susan -- from intruding on Franklin Street, Harris has the very existential crisis that Paul has spent his entire life trying to prevent.

This is not just a movie about a man and his mustache. I found a lot of different themes running through this movie -- truth, community, the nature of friendship -- but the one that I could relate to most was change. In one of my favorite scenes, Harris says to Paul's grandmother that he feels like he's still talking about the good times he's had in the past, while everyone else is trying to move forward. I think that this is something everyone goes through at some point; I certainly did when I went off to college, in between losing touch with old friends and making new ones. And that, in a nutshell, is why I enjoyed this movie so much. I'm a sucker for films that take a completely off-the-wall premise, and manage to say something meaningful with it.

Now, on to my post-movie experience. Ben Davidow and Eric Levy were both on hand to answer questions after the screening, and they had quite a few interesting things to say. Here's some of what I learned:

This film is independent in every sense of the word. The guys of Sweaty Robot did everything from pre-production to distribution. I happened to have caught this movie on a PBS affiliate from New York last weekend, and apparently that was their doing as well. They're trying to get on PBS stations in other major cities as well, so keep a look out.

Shooting took 20 days. In August. In Philadelphia. From what I gather, it was a little warm. The 'stache kept melting off, so instead of makeup in some scenes they had to use foam latex and glue. Due to budget issues, they had to start buying cheaper, thicker latex, which is why in some scenes the mustache looks 3-dimensional. Nick Gregario, who played Harris, is listed as the Foam Latex Mustache Engineer in the end credits.

For the most part they stuck to the script, but a few scenes were smooshed together and others were added after filming started. The scene between Harris and Grams that I mentioned above, for instance, was filmed when they had a spare minute in between shots of the birthday party.

Many, many thanks to Ben and Eric for coming out and talking to us, and to the Rowan Honors Film Series for sponsoring this event.

You'll do as I tell you, and if I tell you to lie you'll do that too...

2009-02-13T22:56:00.001-05:00

Screw Valentine's Day; the most interesting "holiday" this weekend was today, Friday the 13th. Since I'm not home to go see Rocky Horror and have no interest in viewing the latest slasher-movie remake, I thought I'd celebrate by finally posting something about the only horror movie I've seen lately that's actually earned the label.

A lot of movies try to create suspense by using plot twists to keep the audience on its toes. Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte is one of the few movies I've seen use that technique successfully. Not only did this movie keep me guessing; it managed to do so in a way where everything still made perfect sense by the end of the film. Director Robert Aldrich strikes the right balance between presenting questions, leading the audience astray, and providing clues to the right answers anyway. Yes, there are plenty of opportunities to correctly guess how the story is going to play out, but these hints are so obfuscated by the madness entrenched in that old Southern house that I jumped from theory to theory several times before having my suspicions confirmed -- and there were parts of the solution that I never saw coming.

Even the movie's unusual opening credit sequence brings the creepy. There's something about Bette Davis standing alone on a black screen, looking utterly devastated and vulnerable yet completely out of context, that's more than a little grotesque. It sets the tone beautifully for the rest of the movie.

Hush... Hush is all at once a psychological thriller, a classic horror flick, and a whodunnit mystery that's consistently one step ahead of its audience. It's not a movie to watch while half-asleep on the couch; if the all-star cast doesn't command your attention, the intricate plot certainly will.

Superior Scribbler Award

2009-02-06T00:26:00.004-05:00

Many, many thanks to Sarah for honoring me. The rules are as follows.

1. Name five other Superior Scribblers to receive this award.
2. Link to the author and name of the blog that gave you the award.
3. Display the award on your blog with this LINK which explains the award.
4. Click on the award at the bottom of the link and add your name to the bottom of the list.
5. Post the rules.

I'd like to pass this on to Fletch, Carrie, Wendymoon, Stacia, and Ed, in the hopes that you will all click on those lovely little links and see these wonderful blogs for yourself.

20 Actors Meme

2009-01-29T20:53:00.027-05:00

Nicole and Sarah were kind enough to tag me in the 20 Actors meme, and I've given my word not to cheat this time. Luckily, this time I have all night.

Cary Grant

Claude Raines

George Brent

Gary Merrill

Spencer Tracy

Joseph Cotten

Clark Cable

Humphrey Bogart

James Stewart

William Powell

James Cagney

Fred Astaire

Errol Flynn

Melvyn Douglas

Gregory Peck

Sidney Poitier

Lee J. Cobb

Tyrone Power

George Sanders

Dana Andrews

Jack Lemmon

Since I'm permanently late to the party, I'll just tag anyone who hasn't done this yet.

Sometimes I do that, but my aim is better...

2009-01-26T23:23:00.001-05:00

I'm not quite sure what it says about me that I won't go to class before noon but I'll gladly get up at 8 to watch some Bette Davis movies. In my defense, class doesn't happen in my living room, although I can't guarantee I'd get up for it if it did. Today, however, I arose hours ahead of my alarm clock, took a quick shower, and set up shop on the couch just in time to catch the second of five movies airing on TCM today from early in Miss Davis' career. I've only seen Bette as a blonde once before, in Dangerous, so this marathon was a particular treat for me.

I started out with The Girl From 10th Avenue, which features Bette in one of her rare good-girl roles. As a rich businessman's wife of not-quite-convenience, Miriam is a sympathetic character who nonetheless gets to exhibit all the passion and temper of Bette's later performances but with the benefit of being the innocent (or at least well-intentioned) party. I'd never actually heard of this movie until I saw it on TCM's schedule for today, so I don't know if it's really underrated or I'm just really uninformed, but it was an enjoyable, relatively light film and a nice contrast to the more dramatic roles I'm used to seeing Bette play.

The Petrified Forest seems to be one of the best-known movies of her early career, at least among the sources I've encountered. I've wanted to see this one for a long time, and although I had high expectations it definitely did not disappoint. Bette plays a good girl here, too, and although she's also a bit of a snob I can relate to her anywhere-but-here mentality as a lot of my peers seem to feel the same way. The idea of a free-wheeling intellectual, an arteest not bound by earthly possessions, coming in and whisking her off to France is quite appealing, I have to admit. I also liked that said intellectual didn't actually know everything there is to know about everything, after all. The fact that Alan missed the most important point of all -- that he found something to live for, and someone whose life could be made better by his presence -- demonstrated such a basic human flaw in his character that I sympathized with him all the more. That might not be what the film was going for, but it's what I got out of it. Well, one of many things, and maybe eventually I'll see it again and give it its own post (which it definitely deserves), but for now this'll do.

The last movie I watched before I had to go to class was Satan Met A Lady. Here Bette plays the darker type of character that she tended to gravitate towards, and she does so with the kind of self-assuredness that makes a truly great villain. This comedic version of The Maltese Falcon may be a bit over the top, but I thoroughly enjoyed it -- and yes, I've seen the 1941 version already. My favorite part was the final scene, wherein Bette's Valerie Purvis outsmarts Detective Shane even as he's sending her up the river. Really, any scene with Bette Davis and Warren William facing off had my attention. Their mutual charm in increasingly absurd situations had me rooting for a quite different outcome. Check out this scene and I think you'll see what I mean.

Just a couple of rose-colored glasses. Let's try them and see how the world looks...

2009-01-22T23:37:00.002-05:00

I had to choose tonight between doing laundry and getting home in time to watch 42nd Street. I'll bet most of you can guess which activity I picked. Clean clothes are overrated*; this movie certainly isn't. I saw my first glimpse of it in that film history class I'm always going on about. We didn't have time to watch the whole thing, but I got to see the "Young And Healthy" number as an example of pre-code musicals.

Now that I've seen the whole thing, I can say without a doubt that it's by far my favorite musical. The story, the cast, the choreography, the cinematography -- all wonderful. And so different from every other musical I've seen! Of course, I haven't had the opportunity to see many examples of the pre-code cinema at its best, but this was certainly an interesting place to start.

We all know how much I love classic movies, but what struck me while I was watching this one was that although it's the oldest musical I've seen, it's also very much the most modern. Don't get me wrong, a lot of supremely witty and creative work came out of the Code era and the need to work around those restrictions, but for someone around my age who hadn't been exposed to classic musicals before, I really think that 42nd Street would be the perfect way to ease into it. Some of the costumes and even the script in some places ("Sexy ladies from the 80's," anyone?) would almost feel right at home in a theater today, if not for obvious changes in style and slang. If and when I finally convince my friends to sit down and watch a movie with me, this would definitely be in the running for which one I'd show them.

I even loved the musical numbers. That may seem obvious, considering the genre, but I'm not a fan of musicals in general. Usually I watch them for the plot or the acting or even the dancing, but the songs themselves I can take or leave with very few exceptions. However, how could I not sit up and pay attention to this?

I can't believe it took me a full year to finally see the rest of this movie. Hopefully it won't be so long before I see another Busby Berkeley flick.

*That makes me sound disgusting. I promise, not everything I own is actually dirty. It can wait until tomorrow.

Ring the bell, close the book, quench the candle...

2009-01-22T20:10:00.002-05:00

As a child, my favorite part of summer was getting to stay up late for "Bewitched Be-Wednesdays" on Nick at Nite. I spent every Thursday night of the fourth grade hiding under my blankets with the remote control, keeping the volume down as low as possible to avoid getting caught watching Charmed way past my bedtime. When I discovered the Harry Potter books in middle school, well, I don't think I need to explain how quickly I took to that particular phenomenon. I've just always loved stories about magic, so Bell Book and Candle is right up my alley.

The story is in many ways similar to every other portrayal of withcraft I've seen churned out by Hollywood. A group of decidedly odd and garishly dressed individuals who keep more or less to themselves go around casting spells until one of them decides not too anymore, and hilarity ensues. My fantasy-related fandoms have gotten increasingly complex as I've grown older, and this movie reminded me of the very simplest of them. I don't mean that negatively; it was like slipping on an old robe, but less tattered and more comfy.

Of course, clichés are sometimes necessary as a means of avoiding too much exposition. Director Richard Quine uses certain clichés to the best possible effect in this film. Immediately through the opening credits, the audience sees what kind of artifacts are for sale in Gil's shop and knows that these are Not Normal People, before any of the characters are even seen. The shot of Pyewacket jumping onto Gil's shoulder clarifies exactly what type of Not Normal we're dealing with; where there's a cat, there's usually a witch.

Before I give anyone the wrong impression, there are also a lot of original and interesting ideas at work here. Many fantastical works pay lip service to the notion that magical beings are a distinct species, but in this movie they have qualities apart from their powers to back that up. Witches and warlocks have no emotions, including love. If a witch experienced love, she would cease to be a witch -- at least, according to Queenie. The idea of magical powers coming with a high and very real price was interesting to me, because it's a concept that many stories flirt with but few truly follow through. I was glad to see this one did.

Overall, this is a good movie with a great cast. Anyone who has ever enjoyed a good witchcraft-and-broomsticks yarn should definitely check this one out.

She feels that every one of our children will be President of the United States, and they'll all have colorful administrations...

2009-01-20T23:28:00.000-05:00

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner has, at least on the surface, a very simple plot. However, befitting the movie's main theme, one must look below the surface to truly appreciate the film.

The central theme of the movie is very clear. Race relations was and continues to be an important social issue, and this movie gives a sensitive and realistic portrayal of one such conflict. Though interracial marriage is no longer the taboo (or crime, in some places, as one of Matt Drayton's arguments went) that it was in the 1960's, the private reactions of both John's and Joey's parents are just as applicable today. In fact, I found it almost eerie how modern this 40-year-old film really is; the quote I used as the title of this post, for example, makes it almost too perfect to watch today, the day that the son of a black man and white woman (exactly the interracial pairing being depicted) was in fact sworn in as President of the United States.

Because that part of the movie is so powerful it may be easy to overlook the plot's other aspects, but something else caught my eye. The relationship between parents and children is also a very important theme, although the struggle between the couple and their parents seems secondary to the conflict the parents are experiencing within themselves, but I found Joey's relationship with her family and John's relationship with his to be very compelling.

What first caught my attention was the scene when John and his father speak privately in Matt's office. Mr. Prentice argues that after all he sacrificed for John's well-being, John owes him respect and obedience. John counters that his father was required to provide for him every opportunity that he could, and that he is owed nothing in repayment for doing his parental duties. What struck me about this conversation was how clearly I could understand and even agree with both sides. The problem, and it is a common problem that plagues all kinds of relationships between all kinds of people, is that both Mr. Prentice and the younger Prentice take the most extreme viewpoints on their respective sides of the argument, rendering them each incapable of seeing the other's point of view. It's especially interesting to examine this type of conflict against the background of the racial tension in the film, in which each person takes a far more complex position that results in a difficulty understanding themselves as well as each other.

Mr. Prentice did work hard and sacrifice to give his son every possible chance at success, and I found John's ingratitude appalling. However, there is a point at which parents lose the right to dictate their children's decisions, and that point comes long before the child reaches age 37. At the same time, although I firmly believe that parents owe their children nothing less than the best shot at a good life that the parent can provide, they also deserve respect for carrying out that arduous duty. Respect does not mean living your life according to your parents' terms, but it does require keeping a civil tongue even when disagreeing with them. When John told his father to "Shut up," I cringed -- and come to think of it, I felt similarly when Matt uttered the same expression to Joey, although in that case it was played in a humorous light. I wasn't quite uncomfortable the second time, however, because overall the relationship between Joey and her father had been one of mutual respect throughout the film. That element was certainly missing from John's relationship with his dad.

Although the movie revolved around an interracial relationship, I thought that this side point added an interesting commentary on the nature of relationships in general, whether romantic, parental, platonic, or whathaveyou. It's just one more way that this amazing film continues to be very much relevant today, and one more reason why it's such a classic.

We don't need each other anymore. When that happens to two people, there's nothing left...

2009-01-10T04:03:00.001-05:00

As I mentioned once before, my interest in classic movies began when I caught a late-night airing of Penny Serenade on one of the local PBS channels. I was in high school at the time and had no idea who Irene Dunne was; I recognized Cary Grant's name in the credits but couldn't begin to guess which character he played, and afterwards couldn't remember whether it had been him or Clark Gable. Without a title or even clear memory of the film's stars, it took me ages to even figure out what I'd seen.

I haven't seen the movie since, so naturally when I came across the title in the TV listings -- another 2 a.m. showing on PBS, of course -- I couldn't resist staying up to watch it. And, because it was so important in my own personal film history, I decided to pull myself out of this blogging slump I've fallen into over winter break. I can't promise to stay up and watch the whole thing this go-around (I'm actively trying to break the habit of staying up until 4), but as long as I'm watching I thought I'd try making a live post. We'll see how that goes.

I'm about twenty minutes in, and... hi there, foreshadowing. I missed the beginning of the movie last time, so I remember that they were in financial trouble but I thought they'd just always been broke.

Aaand, the earthquake was a huge surprise. I clearly still have a lot to learn about social standards of the era, because I had no idea that they could portray a miscarriage in film back then. The hospital scene was superbly acted, not that I could expect anything less. Irene Dunne's quiet grief and Cary Grant's fumbling attempts at consoling her with the idea of material things were heartbreaking.

It's a little disconcerting to hear children spoken about like goods to be shopped for, but I like that the caseworker pointed out how many parents want blue-eyed blonde-haired toddlers, because that's a trend that continues even today. I'm glad that they don't get exactly the type of child they want, but the way the caseworker describes their baby as "unique" and "like no other child" kind of grates. Can infants be Mary Sues?

The idea of a baby coming with instructions seems endlessly amusing to me. I'll admit I know less than nothing about small children, but I'm pretty sure that doesn't ever happen. A schedule, okay, but... instructions? Really?

Now Roger's just leaving for court to finalize Trina's adoption, and I'm fairly certain this is where I started watching the first time I saw this movie. The hopeful not-quite-goodbye among the little family was probably what drew me in. Roger's speech to the judge is passionate and powerful, and one of the few movie scenes that was immediately imprinted onto my memory after just one viewing. Now, watching it for the second time around, I can also appreciate the way that Roger's character has developed over the course of the film from a frivolous bachelor into a devoted and responsible father.

I don't have much to say about the scenes with six-year-old Trina, because honestly I find the child actress completely distracting. Moving along, that mother and little boy just happening to break down on their way to a Christmas pageant is cruel even for fictional characters. It works as a catalyst for Roger's final decision to leave, but Julie's reaction seems strange considering she hadn't even wanted him to go out for a walk. I'm a little confused as to how Julie ended up being the one to walk out.

The conversation between Roger and Julie recounting their regrets about the last days of Trina's life is poignant and something most people who've lost loved ones can relate to. Even though I know the movie "has" to have a happy ending, it's still jarring when their dream child suddenly falls into their lap right after that. The whole ending makes me a little uncomfortable, from the designer baby factor to the grieving parents' immediate and enthusiastic repurposing of their deceased daughter's room. Still, that's just a brief scene tacked on to the end of an otherwise good movie. It was definitely worth seeing, and even worth staying up this late for. I'm sure I'll watch it again.

The 20 Favorite Actresses Meme

2008-12-16T16:25:00.007-05:00

With many thanks to Nicole and C. K. Dexter Haven for tagging me, here are my 20 five (sorry, but it's finals week and even picking these few took longer than I thought) favorite actresses. It'll be interesting to look back on this in a few months or a year or so and see how my tastes change.

Bette Davis

Ingrid Bergman

Ginger Rogers

Katharine Hepburn

Carole Lombard

Did anyone ever tell you that you have a dishonest face?

2008-12-12T17:33:00.001-05:00

As a former Catholic school student, I'm used to seeing overwhelmingly negative depictions in the media. The Bells of St. Mary's, therefore, turned out to be a very welcome surprise. Despite the myriad differences between Catholic schools of the 40's and Catholic schools of the 90's and 2000's, I could relate to this film far more easily than any modern portrayal I've seen.

The story revolves around a priest, Father O'Malley (Bing Crosby) who is assigned to oversee a school headed by Sister Mary Benedict (Ingrid Bergman). They both have dramatically opposing viewpoints and clash throughout the film, but each is rooted in what they believe is truly best for the children in their care; this is very true to my own experiences with priests and nuns in educational settings, so I appreciated the care given to both points of view.

One theme of the movie hit especially close to home for me, and that was the financial troubles facing St. Mary's. Unfortunately, this is one issue that hasn't changed over the years. My former elementary school was forced to shut its doors a few years ago, as was the other school in the same town, the elementary school that was attached to my former high school, and another high school in the diocese, just to name a few examples. Sister Benedict's prayers for a miracle were particularly touching since I've seen firsthand that often in those situations, nothing short of a miracle will help.

I obviously enjoyed this movie on a personal level, but as a film itself it was definitely worth watching. Bergman and Crosby are a wonderful match, and their good-natured quarreling is highly amusing, especially as they slowly learn to see from each other's perspectives (Sister Benedict as a boxing instructor, anyone?). The "miracle" they finally receive is more than a bit far-fetched, but it works in context and is a nice way to wrap up that part of the story.

I also really liked Patsy's side plot, because I think her revelation at the end is something anyone can relate to -- who hasn't hesitated to leave someplace that had become a second home? Even now as a college student I joke about deliberately failing a semester or two just to postpone graduation, so I knew exactly what Patsy was feeling. Sister Benedict's leniency here showed just how well she understood her students. Art-to-life ratio aside, I think the principal characters' dedication to the students is what makes this film work as well as it does.

No man is a failure who has friends...

2008-12-11T16:05:00.003-05:00

It's A Wonderful Life is my dad's favorite holiday movie, and so it's played in the backgroud of more Christmas Eve gatherings and winter-break Sundays than I can remember. I've seen this movie more times than I can count, however I never really sat down and watched it. For years I dismissed it as just another overrated holiday special; my distaste for the movie continued even after I discovered that black and white movies themelves weren't the dull artifacts I'd assumed them to be. Last night, however, I took a much-needed break from finals week to watch the film as part of the Honors film series I've been attending all semester (it replaced Tommy Boy, which is apparently not academic enough). I felt like I was watching it for the first time. Despite the myriad viewings I whined my way through for years, I had somehow managed to miss large chunks of the story that turned out to be fairly important to differentiating the movie itself from its many parodies and imitations.

For example: Potter. I was vaguely aware that the plot involved a miserly old man, but I never picked up on the Potter's Field and Potterville and other references, and I definitely never realized just how much screen time he really got. And speaking of characters I never paid attention to, has there always been an Uncle Billy in this movie? Thomas Mitchell put in a wonderful performance here as the good-hearted but bumbling drunkard, and I'm glad to have finally taken notice of it.

I also have to say that it was the first time I really saw James Stewart as a good dramatic actor. He's always kind of struck me as kind of an overgrown kid, with those lanky limbs and that boyish face, and I usually associate him with lighter comedic roles, such as Macauley 'Mike' Connor in The Philadelphia Story. He starts out a typical good guy in this film, too, but by the time George Bailey hits rock bottom, when he's sitting in Martini's getting drunk and praying for a miracle, I absolutely believe Stewart as a man with no visible way out.

While I don't think It's A Wonderful Life will ever be my favorite movie, my dad can look forward to a much less-protested viewing this Christmas. Seeing it as a movie instead of an obligatory family tradition was certainly an interesting experience. It also makes me wonder what other movies might go unappreciated just because they're so omnipresent. Have you ever come across a film you've already seen twenty million times, only to really see it on viewing twenty million and one?

Parce que vous ne pleurez pas...

2008-12-04T22:55:00.002-05:00

Now that National Novel-Writing Month is over, I'm hopefully going to be focusing on this blog a lot more. To celebrate my sixth victorious year in a row, I'm going to do something a bit different -- like discussing a movie that was filmed during my own lifetime. Quelle horreur!

The movie in question is actually a French trilogy from the 1990's, which I had the opportunity to watch over the last three Tuesdays in November thanks to Rowan's International Center. Directed by Kryzystof Kieślowski, each film in Trois Couleurs ("Three Colors") represents a color of the French flag and an ideal of the French revolution -- Bleu for liberté, Blanc/Bialy for égalité, and Rouge for fraternité. Each movie's IMDb page bills the films as a trilogy about French society, but I found them to be more portraits of individuals who could conceivably represent anyone from anywhere under the right (or horribly wrong) circumstances.

Bleu, the first film and my favorite of the three, is about a woman who essentially attempts to stop living after losing her husband and daughter in a car crash. Life, however, finds her anyway as she is drawn into forging new connections with her late husband's colleague, her new neighbor, and even her husband's mistress. It's followed by Blanc, which tells the story of a man who returns to his native Poland after his wife humiliates and divorces him due to his impotence. He establishes a friendship with a suicidal family man, and carries out an elaborate scheme of revenge against his ex-wife. The final film, Rouge, details the unlikely connection between a model and a reclusive retired judge, whom she discovers eavesdropping on his neighbors.

The trilogy is in French, except for Blanc which is largely in Polish, but much of the story is told through actions, emotions, and visual symbols rather than words. Each movie's title color figures heavily into the composition of each scene. These movies would not fall into the category of light entertainment; they are frenzied and thought-provoking, with abrupt endings that require a minute or two to digest. The subtle ways in which the three films are connected suggest something about the universality of life, even as each character seems completely isolated. The films function both on their own and as a whole; if you have the chance to see one or all of them, don't pass it up.

You were Garbo, smoke and deceit...

2008-12-02T23:25:00.004-05:00

Raquelle posted a list of some of the strangest search terms that people used to find her most excellent blog, and it was so amusing I just had to go and check my own stats. I haven't been around for very long, so this is going to be a short list, but hopefully... well, at the very least it'll be an interesting one.

movies about college professors "1990 2008"
Well, I did start this blog for a college class, under the direction of a professor. It's conceivable that I'll also write about a movie about college professors at some point, although this person's time period is somewhat later than my usual cuppa tea.

lawyers should never marry other lawyers
Win!

groping clip
Um...?

"lawyers should never marry other lawyers"
Win! Still!

gaslight anthem
Not quite, but: Hee. I have a minor obsession with this band. Classic movie star references, Central Jersey shout-outs -- what more could I ask for?

Oh, Google. You know me so well.

I think I'll have a large order of Prognosis Negative...

2008-11-23T00:29:00.002-05:00

The first glimpse I got of Dark Victory was in the documentary Stardust: The Bette Davis Story, which I caught bits and pieces of when it aired on TCM on what would have been Bette Davis' 100th birthday last spring. They showed the clip that begins at about 6:10 in the above video, and I was so intrigued that I stayed up until 4 in the morning to watch the actual film. I managed to catch it a second time recently at a much more decent hour, and am happy to report that it wasn't just sleep deprivation that made me enjoy it so much the first time.

"Miss Judith Traherne of the Sleeping Trahernes" starts out as a spoiled society girl, only concerned with her parties and her horses. Bette Davis does a wonderful job adding layers to what seems at first like a very superficial character, especially when Judith is questioned about her health. She only reveals the extent of her headaches to Ann because she doesn't want her horse to be blamed for her mistake, a detail that suggests early on that there is more to Judy than the simple party girl she appears to be.

A basic premise of the movie -- the doctor and Ann conspiring to keep Judith's true prognosis from her -- may seem absolutely inconceivable to modern audiences. Although both Dr. Steele and Ann's motivations are pure, the good doctor would be breaking almost every medical law on the books if the story were set today. Even knowing that the film was set at a time when patients were routinely lied to "for their own good," it was still kind of hard for me to look past the idea that a dying young woman, especially one so vibrantly and intelligently portrayed, could not handle her own diagnosis.

Of course, she does eventually find out anyway. The scene in which she confronts Ann and Dr. Steele involves everything I love about Bette Davis' performances -- the barely contained anger, the feigned ignorance, and then the dramatic reveal, complete of course with a well-placed glare from those immortal eyes.

A darker side to Judy's character emerges here, as she throws herself into drinking and partying as a response to learning that she's going to die. It takes both the reappearance of Dr. Steele and a well-timed proposition from Humphrey Bogart's stablehand Michael O'Leary for Judith to realize that she needs to make the most of the time she has left.

Judith's reconciliation with Dr. Steele provides her with her "happily ever after," and it almost seems as though the film should end there. Of course, there's still the small matter of Judy's terminal illness to disrupt the idyllic New England home. The final symptom, and the only sign that death is imminent, is the sudden loss of vision. As you can see in the clip above, Judy initially mistakes her dimming vision for a change in the weather. Once she realizes that she is going blind, her focus almost immediately shifts to comforting her friend. It's this show of extraordinary compassion that first drew me to the film, and it's this scene that left a lasting impression on me long after I first saw it.

The final scenes of the movie concern Judith's attempt at hiding her sudden downturn from her husband. One thing that bothered me about this was that neither Ann nor Judith acknowledged that what she was doing -- concealing life-or-death information from Steele for the sake of sparing his feelings -- is exactly what Judith had had done to her earlier in the film. I would have liked to see Ann try harder to talk her into telling Steele, or for Judith to come to a realization about just why Steele and Ann had initially felt the need to "protect" her as they did. Nonetheless, the scenes of Judith groping around blindly to spare her husband the pain of her impending death are extremely poignant.

According to the movie's Trivia page on IMDb, it was originally supposed to end with Judith's much-maligned horse, Challenger, winning the National. I do think the movie is better off ending with Judith's death, but I also found this interesting, particularly because it brings back an element from the very beginning of the movie. It wasn't until the second viewing that I made the connection between Judith's insistance that her horse had courage, and her later insistance that she herself had to have the courage to die alone.

The next airdate for Dark Victory on TCM is listed as February 25th. If you don't want to wait that long, it's up in its entirety on YouTube, split into 11 parts. Either way, it's definitely something I would recommend watching.

Lawyers should never marry other lawyers. This is called in-breeding: from this comes idiot children and other lawyers...

2008-11-20T02:46:00.002-05:00

After months of wanting to see this movie, TCM finally aired it at a timeslot when I wasn't in class or asleep. Yes, last night I finally caught Adam's Rib, and it definitely did not disappoint.

It was included as part of TCM's Leading Couples series, and I could easily see why. It was my first time really seeing Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy together (well, I have seen Pat and Mike but to be honest, I hadn't really been paying attention). The legendary Hepburn-Tracy chemistry is evident throughout the movie, particularly in the massage scene when the mood changes from a light intamacy between husband and wife to a heated argument in an instant. Adam's expression as Amanda begs him to try to understand her point of view is very poignant and reveals a deeper level of their marriage than the audience had seen up to that point. Of course, his gentle and somewhat patronizing attempt to simply start over as if nothing had happened proved that he completely ignored that request, but what would a battle-of-the-sexes plot be without basic misunderstandings on both sides?

One of the things that I enjoyed most about this movie was that I could sympathize with both the man and the woman. On the one hand, Amanda did prove that the court was prejudicial against her client's gender. However, Adam was also right in that no one of any gender has the right to use violence against another person. I almost feel as though Amanda's point would have been strengthened if it had been a man on trial about to get off leniently and she'd had to prove that a woman would have had the proverbial book thrown at her, but in that case the feminist message of the film might have been harder to pull off.

This is definitely a movie I'd watch again. It was an entertaining look at gender roles, both in the legal system and in Adam and Amanda's own marriage. In the case of the latter, I really liked Amanda's ruminations about marriage to Kip, and Adam's willingness to subvert the traditional "macho-man" gender role after all to help him get his own way, just like a stereotypical woman. To quote Adam quoting the French, "Vive la différence!"

Wherever there's magic and make-believe and an audience, there's theater...

2008-11-18T23:52:00.001-05:00

I've seen this Alphabet Meme from Blog Cabins (who is, by the way, the King of Google -- I've checked) all over the place, most recently in She Blogged By Night, and I want to play too. It definitely doesn't look easy -- especially since I've only recently developed a real interest in movies, and haven't seen even a small fraction of the films generally considered to be classics. Getting one for every letter of the alphabet might take some time, but luckily I've got an English paper to procrastinate; I could sit here all night, and quite probably will. According to the official rules I'm supposed to tag five people, but since I don't think there are five people reading this I'll just skip that step.

All About Eve
Le Ballon Rouge
Citizen Kane (admitting how much I like that movie always makes me feel like a pretentious poser)
Dark Victory
Empire Records
Fried Green Tomatoes
Girls Just Want To Have Fun
Heathers
It Happened One Night
Joyeux Noël
Kill Bill, vol. 1
Laura
Mallrats
Notorious
Only Angels Have Wings
Penny Serenade
Quo Vadis
Requiem for a Dream
Some Like It Hot
Trois Couleurs: Bleu
Un Chien Andalou (cheating here, as "a" and "the" aren't supposed to count, but... come on, what starts with U?)
Volcano
Wet Hot American Summer
The X-Files: I Want To Believe
Yours, Mine, and Ours (the original; haven't seen the remake and honestly have no desire to)
Zorro

There can be no understanding between the hand and the brain unless the heart acts as mediator...

2008-11-11T01:26:00.002-05:00

Two of my favorite things are school and old movies, and I'm constantly looking for ways to combine the two (that don't involve actually changing my major). This blog was the result of one such endeavor; for another, I got to re-watch Metropolis last week for a class called Modernity in the Western World. It's an Honors history class, and my presentation focused on the film as a representation of the post-industrial attitude toward Futurism; don't worry, I won't be rewriting that essay here. I will say, however, that upon seeing Metropolis for the second time -- the first was a year ago, in the film history class I've mentioned here before -- I picked up on a lot of things that I'd missed the first time around. I've blogged before about my lack of patience for silent movies, but I really think Metropolis is a film worth seeing twice.

Metropolis is about a city divided into two classes. The collective "head" of the city is the ruling class, those who live aboveground. The "hands" of the city are the laborers, who live underground and work in shifts to ensure that the city above them runs smoothly. Maria, a wise young woman to whom the workers look for guidance, preaches patience and predicts that a mediator will come, someone who will be the "heart" and unite the two classes for the betterment of all.

It's interesting to see not just how far off Fritz Lang's vision of the future is from what we now know -- although Norman Ball of the Bright Lights Film Journal is quite right to say that he "misses the productivity gains of the computer age by a mile." However, I find it more interesting to look at how he delves into the past in order to create that vision of the future.

The image of the laborers being forced into the machine to replace their comrades who had just perished in the explosion, for example, was strongly reminiscent of images of Hewbrew slaves being forced to build the pyramids in Egypt. Maria's speeches to the workers about waiting for a mediator parallel John The Baptist foretelling the coming of Jesus. The story of the Tower of Babel is directly invoked throughout the film, both when it's mentioned directly and in the image of the aboveground city. My Dad, an avid fan of the genre, always tells me that the best science fiction draws material directly from history; Metropolis is an excellent example of this.

Sources:

Ball, N. (2008). Metropolis, Ezra Pound, Mammon, and the law of too-large numbers. Bright Lights Film Journal, (62). Retrieved November 11, 2008, from http://www.brightlightsfilm.com/62/62metropolis.html

Don't let's ask for the moon. We have the stars...

2008-10-28T02:40:00.007-04:00

The project for which I started this blog is due tomorrow, so this will likely be my last entry before I get graded. I'm still going to try and keep posting here even after I turn in the project, but I thought this would be a good time to stop and discuss some of the movies that first captured my interest in classic films. You may have noticed the badly-photoshopped banner at the top of this page. I made it a few months ago for another blog layout, and each frame in the film strip is a still from a movie that I've seen. My tastes have changed a bit since I put it together, so this isn't exactly a list of my favorite films, but I'll go through the banner from left to right and try to give you an idea of why I picked these movies.

Penny Serenade was the first black-and-white film I ever saw (willingly, that is; the usual holiday classics don't count). It was on PBS or a similar station one night when I couldn't sleep, and it was the first time I realized that movies without Technicolor contained actual plots and could even be entertaining. I was still in high school, and had no idea what I'd just seen or who had been in it (now, of course, I can't imagine not being able to recognize Cary Grant on sight), and it took two or three years before I was even able to track down the title of this film. After this I went quite a while without seeing another classic, but Penny Serenade is definitely the movie that opened my mind toward movies older than myself.

Top Hat was one of the first talking pictures we watched in my Film History class last year. After half a semester of silent films, a musical felt positively modern. Like Penny Serenade, Top Hat made me realize that old movies weren't nearly as outdated as I'd always assumed.

Notorious was my first Hitchcock film, and it's still among my favorite movies. The final scenes, in which Alicia is slowly poisoned by her mother-in-law and Devlin whisks her away right in front of them, still keep me glued to my seat every time.

It Happened One Night was my introduction to screwball comedy, and one of the first classic films I ever owned on DVD. I paid a tribute of sorts to this movie during last year's National Novel Writing Month; none of my friends got the reference, but it was my favorite thing that I wrote all month.

Now, Voyager is my second-favorite Bette Davis movie. Her willingness to appear completely unattractive for the sake of a role makes Charlotte Vale's transformation wholly believable. It gets sappy a times, such as the voice-over in Tina's room at Cascade, but it's still a film I never turn down the chance to see.

A Bill of Divorcement is the only film besides Penny Serenade on this list that I've only seen once. The plot is admittedly outdated, but Katharine Hepburn's performance is an early indicator of her outstanding career. I honestly can't remember why I included this movie, but I do remember that it's worth watching again to find out.

I probably should have done this post earlier, but better late than never and all that. At least now, if anyone's actually reading this, you'll have a better idea of where I'm coming from as far as my early experiences with classic films. Hopefully I'll get to do full posts on each of these movies at some point. That point, however, is not tonight.

Sources:

A Bill Of Divorcement (1932). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 28, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0022685/

Carrie. (20 April 2007). Photo Friday - Notorious. from Classic Montgomery: http://classicmontgomery.blogspot.com/2007/04/photo-friday-notorious.html

It Happened One Night (1934). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 28, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0025316/

Kuersten, Erich. (3 May 2008). Mother's Day Salute to Cinematic Blonde Moms... of DEATH!. from Bright Lights After Dark: http://brightlightsfilm.blogspot.com/2008/05/mothers-day-salute-to-cinematic-blonde.html

Notorious (1946). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 28, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0038787/

Now, Voyager (1942). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 28, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0035140/

Penny Serenade (1941). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 28, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0034012/

Top Hat (1935). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 28, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0027125/

Beer drinking don't do 'alf the 'arm of love-making...

2008-10-25T21:57:00.000-04:00

When I think of Alfred Hitchcock, the first images that come to my mind are of absolute terror. When digging through a $5 DVD bin at Wal*Mart several months back, I pulled out a boxed set of 20 films from early in the Master of Suspense's career. Admittedly, at this point the only Hitchcock movie I'd ever seen was Notorious, but since I don't happen to live under a rock, I was of course familiar with the famous shower scene from Psycho and the basic plot behind The Birds. This was all I knew of Hitchcock, so naturally I was surprised to see that there was very little actual horror in his earlier works. There are some suspense films in the collection, such as The 39 Steps and The Lady Vanishes, but the movies that most surprised and interested me were the silent romantic comedies. The first of these that I watched was 1928's The Farmer's Wife.

I should start by saying that, although I enjoy silent films, I lack the patience to watch them as closely as they need to be watched. For all my love of classic films, I am a thoroughly modern viewer; I've grown so used to multitasking that I'm almost incapable of sitting down to watch a movie without playing a video game or surfing the internet at the same time. With sound films this isn't much of a problem, because although I may occasionally miss some vital or artistically nuanced action on the screen, I can keep up with the movie's plot simply by listening. Dividing my attention between the TV and my laptop is a lot dicier during a silent film, because all of the information is presented visually. Thus, the first time I watched this film I missed a lot of important parts, such as the farmer's dying first wife reminding Minta, the maid, to hang her master's pants to dry. This seems like a frivolous request to make from one's death bed, but it lets the audience know that the soon-to-be-late wife of the farmer wants him taken care of after she's gone, and that she approves of Minta being the one to do it. This bit of foreshadowing sets up the relationship between Minta and Samuel that doesn't fully develop until the end of the film.

Luckily for me, the film as a whole doesn't rely too much on title cards. Hitchcock lets his actors do the talking, telling the story through actions and emotions rather than words. The audience doesn't need to be told that Samuel is lonely -- we can tell by the way he gazes at the empty chair in front of the fire. Likewise, it's clear from Minta's disapproving expressions, even before the text reveals what she's thinking, that she finds fault with each of the women on his list, perhaps because she herself is not among them. Thirza Topper's vanity, too, is established not by what's said about her but by the sheer amount of time it takes for her to get ready to receive Samuel.

The plot itself is trite but amusing, and I think most audiences would enjoy watching the arrogant Samuel Sweetland rejected again and again. The lack of sound doesn't detract from the clever writing, as Samuel finds new and inventive ways to insult each of the women he proposes to. Overall, it was worth seeing once, but I wouldn't go out of my way to watch it again.

Sources:

Hitchcock, A.(Director). (1930 January 4). ['Movie']. The Farmer's Wife. British International Pictures.

The Farmer's Wife (1928). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 25, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0018876/

I could'a been a contender...

2008-10-23T00:07:00.001-04:00

Thanks to some extremely fortunate timing, I get to continue my recent gangster theme with Elia Kazan's 1954 classic On The Waterfront. I just saw it for the first time, and having last night's documentary and crime-movie-marathon still fresh in my mind made for a very interesting experience.

A lot of the post-WWII changes to gangster films that the documentary talked about were evident in On The Waterfront. The genre had moved on from its bootlegging roots and, like real gangsters of the time, the primary characters in On The Waterfront were racketeers who controlled the longshoremen's union. The corrupt union bosses (led by Lee J. Cobb's Johnny Friendly, who was named by TCM's Movie Morlocks as one of the most memorable mob characters off all time) were no less violent than the bootleggers in The Public Enemy, but in some respects On The Waterfront had to be a lot more subtle than the pre-code films that came before it.

The relationship between Terry Malloy and Edie Doyle seemed surprisingly chaste after watching Tom Powers shove a grapefruit in Kitty's face last night. Terry, though a former prizefighter and a lackey for the local mob boss, demonstrated a much gentler side with Edie through much of the film. One of my favorite scenes was when, prompted by Father Barry, Terry confessed to Edie his part in her brother's murder. Rather than having a dramatic argument, Terry's speech and Edie's reaction were drowned out by the sound of the steamboats in the background. This had a very comedic effect -- the other students I was watching this movie with all laughed out loud at this scene -- but I thought it also had a deeply metaphorical aspect. Edie literally couldn't hear him because of the steamboats, but on a symbolic level, the noise didn't start until after he told her that Jimmy's death was his fault; she wasn't emotionally capable of listening to his explanations after that point.

I also found it interesting that Terry redeemed himself in the end, and it went along with what the documentary said about later gangster films, that for every "bad" main character there has to be an even worse character as a counterpoint. It wasn't as harshly realistic as, say, The Public Enemy, but it fulfilled the audience's sense of justice to have Terry rise up from what seemed to be a near-fatal beating in order to turn against the ultimate union boss.

Sources:

On the Waterfront (1954). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 22, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047296/

Smith, Richard Harland. (8 June 2007). Not for nuthin'. from TCM's Movie Blog: http://moviemorlocks.com/2007/06/08/not-for-nuthin/. retrieved October 22, 2008.

Beer and blood...

2008-10-22T01:59:00.002-04:00

I've seen The Public Enemy at least three or four times now, but it's one of those movies that's always worth watching again. Since my most recent viewing came right after a documentary on gangster films, I've noticed a few things about this movie that I hadn't paid attention to on earlier viewings. In particular, I find the movie even more interesting now because I'm able to put it into proper historical context.

The Public Enemy was one of the first and most influential gangster films of the sound era. Released during the Depression, it provided audiences with a means of escapism that was relevant to their own lives. Tom Powers, thanks in large part to Cagney's performance, is a charismatic and even likeable character, to the point where moments such as the famous grapefruit scene which remind the audience how corrupt he truly is seem jarring. Part of what makes me, as a viewer, want to watch The Public Enemy again and again is that Tom is presented as being a regular guy, the product of a violent and twisted environment who has more or less the same goals as anyone else. He tries to do right by his mother, he competes with his older brother, and he values his independence; granted, he also shoots people for a living, but the character is so relateable that it's almost easy to overlook that minor detail.

It's very important that audiences can connect with the main character because of the violent nature of the film. Had Tom been played by a different actor, the violence may have felt gratuitous, but Cagney portrays Tom's motivations so clearly and the world that he lives in is so precisely rendered that each shot feels necessary. As a Pre-Code film, The Public Enemy had a lot of leeway as far as graphic bloodshed goes, but I don't feel that director William A. Wellman abused that freedom. According to the documentary, he did have to fight to keep the now-iconic final scene, in which Tom's body is left to fall forward into the hallway as soon as his brother Mike opens the door, but I think the fact that this scene in particular is still embedded in the public consciousness over 70 years later is proof that the censors were wrong. It isn't violent for the sake of being violent, such as Scarface, for example, which was made at the same time but held up by censors for two years according to This Distracted Globe. Rather, I think that the final scene of The Public Enemy is violent because it needs to be in order to dramatize the end to which every criminal will invariably meet. Of course, in real life justice often isn't served, but I don't think that audiences would have stood for such a lapse in fiction. Because Tom Powers was such a charismatic character, his death had to be gritty and hard to take, in order to make certain that the audience knew in the end that he was a terrible person.

Of course, not every filmmaker had the luxury of such a forceful ending. Tomorrow (well, tonight if I'm being precise) is the first screening in Rowan's Honors Film Series, and it just so happens to be a gangster film made under the Production Code. I'm going to take advantage of this excellent timing to take a look at On The Waterfront.

Sources:

The Public Enemy (1931). (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 22, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0022286/

Valdez, Joe. (29 August 2006). Scarface. from This Distracted Globe: http://thisdistractedglobe.com/2006/08/29/scarface-1932/. retrieved October 22, 2008.

Wellman, W. A.(Director). (1931 April 23). The Public Enemy. Warner Bros. Pictures.

Remember this, boys: You gotta have friends...

2008-10-21T23:52:00.002-04:00

I just finished watching The Public Enemies: The Golden Age Of The Gangster Film, a documentary about the Warner Brothers gangster flicks. A variety of directors, actors, and film historians whose names unfortunately flashed by too quickly for me to catch (with the notable exception of the professor here at Rowan who taught the class that first sparked my interest in classic movies) discussed the rise and fall of the gangster genre, and the legacy that continues through today.

One interesting aspect that the documentary covered was the social context of gangster films. The genre really took off during the Great Depression, because gangster characters were able to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, as the saying goes, and turn a profit even in the face of widespread poverty. To a degree, the general public emulated these characters, although it was important that every criminal "got his" in the end. Audiences were able to fantasize for the duration of the film that they too could create a more prosperous life for themselves by living outside the law, but by the end of the picture justice had been served and they could go back to their own lives content with the fact that crime doesn't pay.

There were a few real-life events that made storytelling more difficult for filmmakers in the gangster genre. First, the end of the Prohibition took the most cinematically-exciting form of crime (that is, bootlegging alcohol) away from the real gangs. Art was very slow to imitate life in this instance, as producers kept churning out films set during the Prohibition. When they did move on, they tried to adapt by blending gangster films with other genres, such as comedy and horror. When the U.S. entered World War II, gangsters in movies took on a more all-American quality, compared to the immigrant and ethnic gangsters that were originally the genre's focus. Finally, in the post-war era, the genre took on a grittier and more psychological film noir quality before burning itself out entirely. Raoul Walsh's White Heat is considered the last of the classic gangster films.

The documentary covered a lot of other interesting topics, but unfortunately I can't possibly get into all of them here (seriously, I took five Microsoft Works pages of outline-style notes). According to TCM's website, it isn't due to air again until January 10th at 4:30 in the morning, but if you happen to be the type of person who plans things that far in advance then I would definitely recommend setting your DVR (or VCR, if you're old-school like me) for it now. I found the information presented very interesting, and I'd probably watch it again. If you don't want to wait until January for another gangster fix, join me in a day or so when I'll discuss some of the gangster movies I'm watching right now.

Sources:

Public Enemies, The: The Golden Age of the Gangster Film (2008) Overview. (2008). TCM Turner Classic Movies. Retrieved October 21, 2008, from Time Warner Web site: http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title.jsp?stid=728304

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn...

2008-10-16T14:56:00.005-04:00

Did you know that this parting shot from Gone With The Wind is considered the best movie quote of all time, according to AFI's "100 Years, 100 Movie Quotes" list? I didn't until I looked it up just now, although I figured it would be in the top ten. I find it interesting, though, that there's such a definitive ranking for something that seems entirely subjective. What makes Rhett Butler's famous line better than, say, "Here's looking at you, kid," from Casablanca, which came in at number 5?

The subject of movie rankings is on my mind because last night I went to the first meeting of an Honors film series at my school. It's the club's first year, and it took us about an hour to decide which movies to see. The theme we ultimately decided on was "Movies Everyone Should See" -- the classics that are so embedded in our cultural lexicon that we can all recite lines and recognize allusions without ever having seen the original film. Using the aforementioned AFI lists, we picked about a dozen movies that seemed too important to pass up, but that someone most or all of us had managed to miss out on. Of course, the fact that there are only eight weeks left in the semester presented a problem, and we had to have a second round of voting to further narrow the list. In the end, we came up with:

This list actually works out well for me, because I've never seen any of these movies. However, the voting process was definitely influenced by members' likes and dislikes, and what each of us personally wanted to see instead of what we considered the truly classic must-see movies. I was certainly guilty of this -- I lobbied for Adam's Rib purely because I keep missing it on TCM -- but by the time we were finished, I noticed that the movies generally considered to be among the very greatest, such as Casablanca and Citizen Kane, had been knocked off our list. Looking at the eight movies that are left makes me wonder how certain films came to be considered the best of all time, and why our list looks so different from the ones I usually see.

A Google search for "best movie ever" turns up 5,810,000 hits. The first three are lists from IMDb, Wikipedia, and The New York Times. The last of these three does not give films individual rankings, but instead serves as a guide to movies that are all considered great. I think that this is the best and least subjective way to do it. The IMDb list is based on user votes, with results that I found somewhat surprising. The Dark Knight, for example, has already cracked the Top 5 despite being released only a few months ago. The Wikipedia list is broken down by genre, and includes many of the same titles as the AFI list.

A "Starter Kit" from the Movie Morlocks was put together based on process of elimination, and is narrowed down not to the definitive dozen best movies of all time, but to twelve films that the author feels all new fans of classic movies should see. This is very close to the same process we used, and in fact one film, 12 Angry Men, wound up on both lists. Adam's Rib would have made our cut as well, if we hadn't needed to narrow our selections down to eight. This list, put together by one blogger rather than the votes of an entire user base, is perhaps more subjective than Wikipedia's or IMDb's, but I find it interesting that it came the closest to what we came up with on our own.

Since these lists seem based on public polls, I'd like to conduct a very unscientific one of my own. What criteria do you use to rank films? Are your favorite films ones that you would consider classics, or would you have two seperate lists for movies you most enjoy and movies you feel everyone should see? Finally, what do you think is the best film ever made?

Sources:

AFI's 100 YEARS... 100 MOVIES. (2008). AFI.com. Retrieved October 16, 2008, from American Film Institute Web site: http://www.afi.com/tvevents/100years/movies.aspx

Film Critics of the New York Times. (2004). The Best 1,000 Movies Ever Made. The New York Times. Retrieved October 16, 2008, from http://www.nytimes.com/ref/movies/1000best.html

Films considered the greatest ever. (2008, October 15). Wikipedia. Retrieved October 16, 2008, from Wikimedia Foundation Web site: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Films_considered_the_greatest_ever

IMDb Top 250. (2008). IMDb. Retrieved October 16, 2008, from Internet Movie Database Web site: http://www.imdb.com/chart/top

Rambeau, Mark. (August 17, 2008). A Classic Movie Starter Kit. from Movie Morlocks. Retrieved October 16, 2008, from TCM's Movie Blog Web site: http://moviemorlocks.com/2008/08/17/a-classic-movie-starter-kit/

That would solve none of their problems, because actresses never die...

2008-10-14T23:25:00.002-04:00

(Continued from my last post...)

The beginning of Margo and Addison's conversation is cut off in this clip, but in the first sixteen seconds the audience gets a clear picture of both characters: Addison delights in revealing to Margo that Eve is her understudy, and a very good one at that, whereas Margo can barely contain her displeasure while trying to appear wholly unsurprised. Addison's seemingly casual revelation that Margo wasn't mentioned at all during Eve's audition is very telling, both to Margo and the audience. It marks the first time that Margo truly realizes how easily she could be replaced by a younger actress. Miss Casswell's entrance is perfectly timed, both to disrupt the tension between the scene's two principal characters and to give Margo a way out of the conversation.

Her entrance into the theater says a lot with little dialogue. Notice how she dismissively throws her coat over Max's head. His reaction reveals quite a bit about his relationship to Margo; instead of getting angry, he interprets it as a warning sign of the tantrum to come, and signals to Bill, Lloyd, and Eve that they should prepare themselves, then squirms uncomfortably low in his chair when Margo addresses him directly. She cheerfully feigns ignorance, passive-aggressively dropping hints about her conversation with Addison (including, of course, my favorite phrase of the movie, which is used several times). She let's the act drop slowly, picking a fight with Lloyd over her age in relation to the characters he writes for her -- something that's been an issue, first in her own mind and later between the two of them, throughout the film -- until Bill realizes that Addison has already told her everything.

In the background, Eve slowly backs up as the fight escalates, a move that on first viewing made her seem frightened and innocent, but after having seen the entire film now appears more calculated, as if she deliberately set the argument in motion and now intends to leave before the others pick up on that fact. Bill, meanwhile, is strangely calm, perhaps foreshadowing his own argument with Margo later in the scene. He casually tosses his cigarette pack aside and lays down on the bed, patting the dog statue on his way down. That action, juxtaposed against Margo's raving in the background, is one of those small moments in the film that I think completely makes the movie. His exaggerated state of relaxation provides some measure of comedy in an otherwise dramatic scene, but it also hints to the audience that Bill is at the end of his proverbial rope.

Meanwhile, the argument rages on as Lloyd finally stands up to the diva, as Hugh Marlowe and Bette Davis deliver some of the best lines in a script known for its sparkling wit. Max Fabian intervenes only when Margo suggests that she might not perform that night, reminding her that she is bound by a legal contract, but she easily calls his bluff and he leaves the theater. Lloyd stays to get in one last parting shot, comparing Margo to a piano that can only play the music he writes for it. He leaves before she can reply, and so she turns on Bill, continuing the metaphor by asking if he is the pianist in this scenario.

The tone of the scene changes abruptly. Margo is clearly still hurt and angry, but she's far more gentle with Bill and he flat-out refuses to engage her. She notices that Eve has left, and Gary Merrill again successfully combines quiet exasperation with comic relief as Bill looks around, checks under the bed, and shrugs his shoulders. His passivity as Margo rants about Eve, Lloyd, and Addison doesn't spare him. She pauses and sweetly acknowledges how patient he's being, but in the next breath tries again to goad him into an argument.

He takes the bait when she accuses him of having directly been involved in hiding Eve from her. Eve has been a sore point in their relationship for some time, as Margo has started to sense something sinister in the girl's hero-worship of her, while Bill sees her as an innocent kid. This is made worse by Margo's insecurity about her age and the eight-year gap between them, something that Bill can more easily dismiss because he is the younger one. There are also eight years between Bill and Eve, but because Eve is younger than Bill, Margo fears that he finds her more attractive.

Bill tries desperately to convince Margo that her jealousy is unfounded, in a physically tense moment that would have much different connotations in a contemporary film, if it were included at all. There's no air of violence in this scene, however, even as Bill overpowers Margo. She squirms beneath him out of anger and denial, not fear, laughing in his face when he declares his love for her.

Bette Davis does an amazing job of portraying Margo's vulnerability through the rest of the scene, starting with the moment that Bill lets go of her. She lays still for a second, defeated, then rolls over and refuses to face him while she collects herself. She makes it clear, through her words and tone of voice, that her pride remains intact, but when Bill mentions Eve, Margo's voice softens and her insecurity becomes almost palpable. She won't even look at Bill as he begs her to put the subject of Eve to rest, and even has he breaks up with her she remains stoic, though intensely sad. It's not until after he's nearly gone that she turns and, with a fleeting, childlike smile, asks if he's going to find Eve. The scene ends with Margo sobbing alone on the stage, having lost the most important people in her life to her own pride and jealousy.

This is probably the longest blog entry I will ever write, but if you got this far then I hope you can see why I didn't want to leave anything out -- and in fact, still feel like there's so much more I could say about just those ten minutes of film.

Sources:
Mankiewicz, J. L.(Writer/Director). (1950 October 13). ['Movie']. All About Eve. Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation.

All playwrights should be dead for 300 years...

2008-10-14T23:24:00.007-04:00

I want to use my first post to take a closer look at my favorite film, All About Eve. In particular, there's one ten-minute section of the movie that I consider to be possibly the greatest thing ever captured on film. I was lucky enough to find those exact scenes in one YouTube video, and I'll get to that in a second, but first, some background information. Spoilers below.

All About Eve is considered by many to be among the best movies of all time. The American Film Institute ranked it #28 on their list of the 100 greatest films ever made. Of course, the opinions of critics would mean very little if the film couldn't still find an audience. Why are modern filmgoers still drawn to a movie that was made over half a century ago? I think the answer lies not in the overall plotline, but in the small touches that writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz and his all-star cast put into each scene. Not a frame of this movie is wasted; I think you'll see what I mean after watching the following clip.

Eve Harrington is an adoring fan that aging Broadway star Margo Channing has taken in. By this point in the movie, Eve has been far too attentive for Margo's liking, especially where Margo's director-fiancé Bill is concerned. She tried to pawn the girl off on her producer, Max Fabian, but Margo's close friend Karen took pity on Eve and arranged through her husband, playwright Lloyd, for Eve to assume the role of Margo's understudy at the theater. Margo is completely unaware of this until she shows up late for a reading, which was to be an audition for Miss Casswell (a small part played by then-unknown Marilyn Monroe), and the manipulative critic Addison DeWitt informs her that Eve read in her place.

Follow me to my next post, where I'll take a (very) detailed look at this section of the movie.

Sources:
(1990-2008). All About Eve (1950). Retrieved October 14, 2008, from International Movie Data Base Web site: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042192/

(1998-2008). All About Eve movie reviews, pictures - Rotten Tomatoes. Retrieved October 14, 2008, from Rotten Tomatoes Web site: http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/1000626-all_about_eve/?critic...

Mankiewicz, J. L.(Writer/Director). (1950 October 13). ['Movie']. All About Eve. Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation.

All that meaning, fire and music...

2008-10-09T15:29:00.000-04:00

My name is Addison DeWitt. My native habitat is the theatre. In it I toil not, neither do I spin. I am a critic and commentator. I am essential to the theatre.

...Well, no, not quite. My name is Caitlin. My native habitat is on my living room couch in front of a TV that's perpetually tuned to Turner Classic Movies. I'm not a film major, nor an aspiring actor. I have no connection to classic films beyond an almost obsessive enjoyment of them. I am essential to the film industry only insofar as an audience in general is essential.

I am a junior at Rowan University, and this blog is part of a class project. I'm a Writing Arts major with a French minor, an Honors concentration, and I'm looking into adding a Creative Writing concentration -- none of that has anything to do with classic movies, but I hope that it demonstrates my passion for learning about the things that interest me.

I'm relatively new to the world of classic cinema. Last fall, as part of my Honors concentration, I took a Film History course that introduced me to everything from the very first moving images recorded on film to the great screwball comedies of the 1930's. That class taught me to appreciate the films of my grandparents' and even great-grandparents' generation, and since then I've been watching every classic I can find. My favorite, if you haven't guessed by now, is Joseph L. Mankiewicz's All About Eve (1950), but I've enjoyed a wide variety of movies and hope to see many more; anything older than my parents is fair game.

In addition to watching movies, I'd like to really study them as the art form that they are. In this blog, I'll be sharing any information I kind find about what went into making these films, and why they've stood the test of time.