Movie Montage

The Security Blanket

2012-01-01T12:20:00.001-05:00

There's a meme that travels around the Internet where a girl will take a picture of the contents of her purse. The innards of the bag are meant to give some glimpse into the inner workings of the girl. The only thing I've recognized about myself is that I have a penchant for hoarding ancient pieces of hard candy collected from the 'thank you, come again' bowls stationed at the exits of most restaurants. And yet, whatever this says about myself or my sanity, those fuzzy mints, and the fact that I didn't just remove them like any sane individual probably would, got me thinking.

There are things we all hold on to that tend to take on greater meaning during the holiday season. Old toys, family traditions, torn pieces of paper that have some story we never want to forget. I always go back to classic film. When I'm tired or when I'm stressed, even if I don't have time to watch a whole film, I can still count on the drunken Jean Arthur scene in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington to pull me out of a funk.

Going into 2012 I'll always have those cherished go-tos that make movies magic. The mints will be thrown in the trash, but decades later the same gestures repeated again and again, now part of an unchanging, well oiled machine, delight just as they did in the galaxy far far away that is the past. Next to the family photos, the lip gloss, or the hand mirror, I hope you keep close some secret joy, and that the films we all love continue to inspire for new years to come.

A Tribute To Gerald of Laszlo's on Lex

2011-09-22T02:12:00.002-04:00

Like others I feared the worst but hoped for the best when Gerald's posts became less and less frequent. I've only just learned of his passing from Matthew's beautiful tribute to him, and can't quite find words to express the loss. Perhaps that's because I know that no one could write them better than Gerald himself.

I never met Gerald. I only knew him through his comments and his posts. To say I felt I knew the man at all is an achievement on his part, because really I only knew his words. He knew so much, and for any not familiar with his blog I encourage you now to read, enjoy, and celebrate.

The thing that strikes me about my too short communication with him is how often our conversations were turned to my own life. There have been occasions where my own set of doubts and frustrations have crept into this blog, and when these moments have happened and I haven't had the good sense to delete five seconds after publishing Gerald was always there to offer a kind, reassuring word. Once, simply, "I feel confident." And it meant a lot. It really meant a lot.

I can only leave the reader with

Random considerations from one who has been down a few roads. Consider or disregard as applicable. Best.

Gerald.

Making Chaplin Move

2011-09-12T19:52:00.000-04:00

I generally walk right on through Disneyland’s Main Street. The turn of the century themed entrance to the original park has charm, but doesn’t provide the same thrill as a roller coaster. While I love any occasion to obnoxiously sing along to Oklahoma! or Hello Dolly, Main Street is not really the main attraction. Walt Disney described it as a "weenie," something to pull people in. By definition it is something you are meant to walk past, but if one looks closely it has hidden treasures for the film history fan.

I hadn’t walked into one of the area’s storefront arcades until a few weeks ago, or if I have it was at a time when ‘this tall to ride’ signs had meaning. I’d seen them as I passed, but never really taken note of the bank of Mutoscope machines lining the walls. I didn’t even know what they were until I took the time to walk up to one and read the manufacturing information.

Stop by and pay a penny. That seems to be the motto of the Mutoscope, and DL hasn’t changed the form. Except in Disneyland it’s more stop by, stand in line, have time to think about the exorbitant price you’re paying for a ticket, pay for the ticket, want to slap your crying five year old for not appreciating the vacation time and money spent to bring the whole family on this magical adventure, then say what’s an extra penny after all?

Note: “What’s an extra penny after all” was the original music pitch for the Small World ride. Ok no it wasn’t, but it should have been.

The machine itself operates on the old arcade model, with viewing meant for one individual at a time. The passerby pays a penny, turns the crank, and a series of images roll past on what looks like a giant rolodex. If the right rhythm is hit, the images move like a flipbook, creating fluid action. If you’re like me you’ve never been able to get a flipbook to operate properly, but the imagination fills in the jolts and small spasms of movement. Really there’s a reason these puppies went out of style.

Subjects for these machines varied, but one of the most popular topics was movies. One of the Disneyland Mutoscopes, simply called “Dough Fight,” features a scene from the Chaplin silent film Dough and Dynamite (1914).

As it’s a film I’ve seen before I couldn’t resist putting a penny into the slot to see what the experience would be like in a more personal, handheld environment. You speed up, Chaplin speeds up. You slow down, the chosen gag becomes a rickety mess. All that perfect tramp timing rested at my fingertips, and all of Chaplin’s precision came to naught in my inexperienced grip. In this scenario Chaplin became the Mario of the early 20th Century. It's now the norm for films to become video games and video games to become films, but the practice isn't without precedent.

A plaque at the entrance to Disneyland reads "Here you leave today and enter the world of yesterday, tomorrow and fantasy." Maybe yesterday and tomorrow are closer together than we might think.

The Great Space Race: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes From a Different Perspective

2011-08-28T02:24:00.002-04:00

There's still something about a darkened theater. It's a space that presents a strange mix, a sensational sense of togetherness and isolation at the same time. While you never really forget other audience members are there (they laugh, they cry, some damn teenager gets caught on their date's lip ring) these multiplex multitudes are meant to be ignored as the lights dim. But should they be?

The idea of the 4th wall may be a theatrical concept, but it can also be applied to film. While both screen and stage tend to have a defined space, neither are self contained, and direct address is discouraged in both. The term may only be applicable to the world onscreen, but this recognition of the audience really happens all the time and is generally just as unsettling. The person coughing in the second row can completely ruin what should be a dramatic pause. A group of latecomers knock into your knees, excuse me, pardon me, blocking the screen in the process. Both distractions can alter the reception of a film, and one's understanding of it. There are limits to this, of course, but it's an interesting aspect of the process to consider, and one that has been written about rather extensively (see Rick Altman).

While the extent is debatable, I can attest to ways the screening space can change the film.

I've attended Screen on the Green in Washington, DC once every summer for the past four years. The event is an annual tradition known for its top notch lineup as well as the one minute HBO dance party that takes place before every screening. It's possibly the only show in town where the hundreds of people assembled on the mall will stand up and dance to the HBO intro before settling in for a classic cartoon and the advertised show.

Over the years I've watched the last five minutes of The Apartment walking backwards along the mall, trying to see it to the end while simultaneously hurrying to catch the last metro. My second year, On The Waterfront, we came late, couldn't get seats terribly close, and ended up watching the entire film with a sound delay. It's a lot less fun than it looks in Singin' in the Rain. The third time wasn't a charm with Goldfinger as they had to cut off the film midway through to evacuate during a horrendous thunderstorm. Dodging bolts of lighting actually seemed appropriate, though I prefer my terror remain up on the screen with head slicing top hats.

Even without these added obstacles sitting on beach blankets sandwiched between the Smithsonian Museums, the Capitol, and the Washington Monument adds an extra thrill to any film.

This year I came for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, a fun and frothy classic perfect for a summer evening.

While nothing as disruptive occurred this time around, the event is set up in such a way that those around you become more of an attraction than they usually would. The drama unfolding right before my eyes was a blonde other than Marilyn Monroe scanning the sidelines for her boyfriend. I had one eye on the choreography on screen, the other on the graceful way the girl would extend her hands high into the air and wave repeatedly to direct him to their spot. If it were a darkened theater I may have noticed the added laugh on the line about writing your senator or the occasional wolf whistle, but I wouldn't have noticed her high high heels with candy cane stripped ties.

As media becomes more readily disseminated and more easily condensed it is important to remember not just Screen on the Green or even the ipod screen, but the city bus or the rural barn in which the ipod is played. With new audiences for classic films come new spaces in which they can be viewed.

To infinity and beyond.

My Life as a Greer Garsonologist (Extra! Extra! Read All About It!)

2011-08-12T13:18:00.000-04:00

Greer Garson and the Good War: How We All Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Great Lady

By Yours Truly (Not Johnny Dollar)

Some exciting news for this little blog o'mine that its ramshackle authoress is in Issue 73 of Bright Lights Film Journal. It is a long term goal of mine to keep up with and diversify my writing, and this is the first time I've submitted a film piece to any publication, online or otherwise, so I'm thrilled that Gary Morris and the minds behind BL liked it and accepted it. I'm also more excited than I should be to be somewhere in the coding of MUBI.

Greer Garson is one of my favorite actresses, and her career trajectory has always fascinated me. More than almost any other star (save the likes of Marilyn Monroe) she became trapped in a certain persona that she couldn't break from. This not only shaped her legacy, it also marked an important shift in the American conscience that's worth documenting. And thus the above essay was born.

If you actually take the time to read it, bless you. Either way just wanted to share.

Link Love #2 (Plus Liebster Awards and Additional Newsbits)

2011-08-10T11:12:00.001-04:00

Awards

The wunderbar Marsha of A Person in the Dark has bestowed a Liebster upon Movie Montage. Liebster is supposedly German for "beloved," and it is now my turn to pass the torch along to several worthwhile blogs of my own choosing.

LA. La Land: Fame, Fortune, and Forensics: Aside from being a fellow Meredith this girl knows her stuff. Really. Her posts are deeper than the Mariana trench and a lot more fun to look through.
Film Studies For Free: Catherine Grant's page is an invaluable resource for film news, new journal publications, and listings of film essays and articles available online. It's overwhelming but in a good way.
Happy Thoughts, Darling: The word liebchen immediately brought MC's site to mind. Well written and a nice blog to sit down and drink a cup of tea with.
The Pneumatic Rolling-Sphere Carrier Delusion: To use his own words Joe describes his blog as "rambling observations on books, history, movies, transit, obsolete technology, baseball, and anything else that crosses my mind." Every time I click on his page it's the equivalent of stepping into an ephemera shop. Also fun for those who love all things San Francisco.
Who Can Turn The World Off With Her Smile?: Laura's blog is still new to me but I'm pretty assured in calling her the Eve Arden of the classic blogging world. Her page is a lot of fun to read and I feel like if I ever met her on the street she could toss back a one liner faster than Eleanor Powell could machine gun tap.

Posts

The Lady Eve's REEL LIFE was able to interview Edna May Wonacott, the child actress who played Ann Newton in Shadow of A Doubt. Read her great post about Edna here
The Millie truly has a unique way of expressing herself (I still think "stupendously deranged" is a word pairing of divine inspiration) so please enjoy Six Greatest Upbeat, Cheerful Bobby Darin Songs About Violent Death
The Movie Snob's latest Director's Spotlight on Francis Ford Coppola outlines why he's the gift that keeps on giving
I love Kate of Scathingly Brilliant's love of astronomy. You can read all of her 'star stuff' posts here

Also of Interest

While I imagine most of you have perused it by now TCM always does an incredible job with its graphics, and I encourage one and all to look through each and every page of their Summer Under the Stars website
Nancy Wake, WWII heroine dubbed the "White Mouse" by her Nazi enemies, has died at 98. Learn more about her amazing life (thanks for the link, Kendra)
Roger Ebert posted a link to the Sound on Sight article The "Gray Ones" Fade To Black yesterday, a piece about the lack of shared cultural knowledge many young people today seem to possess, and I've been contemplating whether or not to comment. While this is true I think that we all need to start speaking loud and clear 'We are here! We are here!' Dr. Seuss style because there's clearly a flourishing classic film community on the Internet with a lot of young energy behind it, and I think it's time people recognized our existence instead of using those darned kids with their Bieber fever as a well worn punching bag.

Just For Fun

A 'Did You Know' Fact. I haven't watched the television show The Munsters in many years, but only just found out that Grandmama, played by Blossom Rock, is Jeanette MacDonald's older sister. Who knew!

Also a note that this blog isn't going anywhere but the girl behind it is. In the next few days I'll be making the move clear across the country to Southern California, and will hopefully be able to stay forever and ever and ever. The area should prove an amazing resource for this blog, so stay tuned.

What Lucille Ball and Coffee Creamer Have in Common

2011-08-05T21:17:00.004-04:00

Sometimes my mother calls me Lucille. It’s not because she has forgotten my name (though I was often confused with the family dog…), rather this is more a playful reference used when I’ve done something silly. And by silly I mean something Lucy Ricardo might do. I’ve loved I Love Lucy since childhood, and it’s still my favorite show. It is not only a link to television’s past but to my own.

Only later would I learn the many sides of Ball. Her days as a platinum blonde chorus girl at RKO (check out Astaire/Rogers films Top Hat and Roberta for some early cameos, among others) and eventual promotion to full red-headed Technicolor glory in films like Du Barry Was a Lady, which only Ball and Virginia O’Brien make bearable. Offscreen reading about her love affair with Desi Arnaz can only lead to ugly crying and the over consumption of thin mints.

What fascinates me the most is how she was always half and half. Half out of this world gorgeous movie star, half goober. Her beautiful eyes would brighten as a deformed putty nose threatened to light her face on fire. Lucy Ricardo often gravitated towards the silly and the slapstick, and this is what Ball remains best known for. But part of the fun is the rare moments when that other side shines through.

The only way I can imagine celebrating her centennial in public memory is to post what I would probably deem my favorite scene from I Love Lucy. It’s part of an episode that appropriately takes place during the Hollywood season, when Lucy gets to do a dance number with Van Johnson. It has always stuck out to me as one of the few moments when Lucy completely drops her schtick. The number begins situation normal (i.e. humorous) and slowly transitions into Lucille Ball, effortless screen queen. The true beauty is that Ball made both seem effortless. The result is magical.

I only just discovered that there is a wonderful blogathon going on at True Classics to celebrate her August 6th birthday (and I have now joined in the fun!), so be sure to check out the posts here.

Bette Davis- a definition of a favorite actress

2011-07-31T18:49:00.000-04:00

"Whatever I did, I did. My mistakes are mine. I, alone, am responsible."

Bette Davis [bet-te da-vis]

-noun

Actress
Organizer (See: Hollywood Canteen)
Warner Brother's Scarlett O'Hara (See: Jezebel)

-verb

To have the stars
To know one's enemies
To be short in body but tall in spirit

-adjective

"A great name for a secretary"*
A bumpy night

Origin:

1908-1989

Synonyms:

1. Determined 2. Commanding 3. Hard-working 4. Ethical 5. Theatrical

*Carl Laemmle's publicity men on wanting to change Davis' name for pictures (via "The Lonely Life" by Bette Davis, p. 125)

Facebook and the Circle of Life

2011-07-26T21:53:00.007-04:00

Wild Card #3. There were no Parent Trap style handshakes involved but I have nonetheless made a pact with Amanda of A Noodle in A Haystack to produce one wild card post a month. Not only is it a chance to flex muscles outside of filmdom, it has the added fun of not knowing what we may come up with. Feel free to pull up a chair and join us if you like. The more the merrier.

Internet fads come and go, but one that has attracted my attention recently is Google +, a 'new and improved Facebook' with less mess and no invites to raise barnyard animals. One of the main selling points is the ability users have to place those they allow to view their posts into different categories. Don't want your gym partner in high school/mailman/grandmother to know you have undying love for grape jello? Easy. Just put them in a circle labeled "Anti-Jello."

This seems like a logical step in the evolution of social media. One that I imagine Facebook will be forced to adopt if it wants to remain competitive. And while I understand the rationale, the ways this makes social networking more like filters we have in life, it creates a potential end (or twilight) to a fascinating, sometimes embarrassing, sometimes litigious chapter in digital history.

Chances are you've seen it before (and done it before. I know I have). The late night post of self-doubt, photographic documentation of the fling of a friend you haven't seen in five years. It can be uncomfortable if you don't know the person well and run into them at a supermarket. And yet I find the no-holds-barred approach many people take to social media fascinating. With party phone lines there was no way of knowing who was potentially listening to a personal conversation. Pouring private thoughts into a tape recorder has something of a message in a bottle effect. Now hundreds of people can be made privy to personal thoughts instantaneously. Seeing your Uncle Alfonso post about his smelly socks is the same as if he'd mentioned this outright at the dinner table, though the latter seems less likely. It's like going out into a field and yelling obscenities into the night sky, all the while knowing that now the stars can listen. And comment. And pass the information along to their friends in other galaxies (or your boss).

I love seeing different sides to those I know. Of course this is more satisfying when the information is earned in person, but now the field is more open to those outside of one's immediate circles. It offers a limited opportunity to walk in someone else's shoes, even if that means reading posts about hand painted mailboxes. With more prevalent filters it seems less and less likely that these different viewpoints will be as accessible. And I think that's a shame.

Who knows what the future of social media will be, or if these sorts of advancements will keep those with over share proclivities from curbing the habit. For better or worse the practice underlines the need we all have to communicate, and offers more opportunities to be heard. Call me crazy but I think that's kind of beautiful.

Yolanda and the Thievery of American Idealism

2011-07-21T18:02:00.002-04:00

I don't often write reviews of films I dislike because I wouldn't want to trample all over some soul who loves it with the grace of an elephant on roller skates. It often comes down to a why, why, why does a film push all the wrong buttons? How can the likes of Fred Astaire and Vincente Minnelli be reduced to sultry six year olds swiping their sticky fingers across all 36 floors? I take Yolanda and the Thief (1945) as a challenge. On the surface it's a candy coated Brother's Grimm, but its core is mid-40s America. While film noir and the notorious femme fatale are often terms most associated with post-war angst, Yolanda and the Thief indicates ways the post-war musical also bears witness to fear of the independent woman.

The film is set in the mythical land of Patria, somewhere between South America and Burbank. As in, it's South America, clearly set in Burbank.

Save the drama for your llama.

After some villagers sing and a group of girls in a convent shower together (because who doesn't think 'wet t-shirt contest' whenever they pass their local church...) Johnny (Fred Astaire) and Victor (Frank Morgan) come rumbling and grumbling in on a train, two con men out for some quick dough. Their plight provides the major plot line for the film. Other characters include:

Yolanda (Lucille Bremer) in a get up enforcing the notion that a woman's only worth is her ability to look like a pre-teen milkmaid.

Overly precocious loud-mouthed child

Man with fake mustache

Johnny and Victor find out that the heir to a large fortune is none other than young and unassuming Yolanda, prime for the picking. After determining the girl's religious nature Astaire decides to pretend to be her guardian angel. In gaining her complete trust he is able to force her to give up her millions. But I'm sure you can guess what happens instead, so I'm not even going to waste the type.

What is of note in the film is the one of these things is not like the other cherry picked social statements which don't seem to fit in with the otherworldly surroundings.

Yolanda's economic circumstances are introduced through a series of billboards that pass the train windows at the beginning of the film reading Aquaviva Gasoline fuels the nation [sic], Fly Pan Aquaviva Airways, Aquaviva Beef feeds the world, adding an unexpected commercial aspect and comment on the modern corporation.

"This Aquaviva's got the country by the throat!"

More importantly, these interests are not initially introduced in relation to Yolanda.

Victor: Must be awfully rich, eh? Millionaire, would you say?

Steward: Very rich, señor, as you Americans say, "filthy."

Victor: Yes... Well what sort of a man is this filthy Aquaviva? I mean how does one contact him? Has he got any vices? Hobbies? Does he play gin rummy?

Johnny: Don't worry, Junior, Mr. Aquaviva will probably meet you at the station and hand you a blank check.

Steward: Mr. Aquaviva is not Mr. Aquaviva, Mr. Aquaviva is Miss Aquaviva!

A woman running a company? Shocking. Which is why Johnny has to come in to save the day. Not as the traditional lead, but as a 'fake guardian angel,' a bizarre position that conflates romance with religion. It takes 'worship your man' to a whole new level.

More than that, the resultant marriage has to be on Johnny's terms ("Women are bad business"). His initial fears about being roped into matrimony are only satiated when the traditional Hollywood ending saves the day. And in this the very notion that something once assured has to be saved.

Am I taking this too far? Quite possibly. Would pointing out the resemblance of Patria (spanish for homeland) to Patriarchy be too much? Oh yes. And yet...

Unexpected Ephemera-The Legacy of Laurence Olivier

2011-07-09T12:04:00.001-04:00

This weekend marks the first Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh blogathon, a celebration of people with the ability to turn life into a non-stop Gap ad. Flawless. But of course both were much, much more, and as such I admit to struggling to come up with a topic. I perused netflix for ideas and found that The 49th Parallel by one of my favorite filmmaking teams, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, was available on instant. The listed synopsis sealed the deal:

The great Laurence Olivier leads an impressive cast in this wartime thriller about a Nazi U-boat crew stranded in Canada during WWII.

Sounds perfect, right? Except in watching the film I encountered a problem. While Olivier is billed as the premier cast member, his character's time is rather limited. In fact, he's not even part of the greater arc of the film.

Though he does make quite an entrance.

The fact that Netflix would tout the film as an Olivier vehicle intrigued me. It's pudding proof that the very name Laurence Olivier has a life of its own.

Awhile ago I acquired a program for a performance of The School for Scandal that took place at the National Theater in Washington, DC on April 8th, 1963. The play featured an impressive cast led by Ralph Richardson and John Gielgud. Sign me up.

In the cast biographies one name pops up time and again: Laurence Olivier. Though he made no appearance in person that night he was nonetheless present in the theater, a phantom filtered through the experiences of others. Below are the appropriate sections involving Olivier.

Who's Who in the Cast

Ralph Richardson (Sir Peter Teazle) This international star headed the Old Vic for many years with Sir Laurence Olivier. He performed outstandingly in Shakespearean plays both at home and abroad, and in 1947 was knighted by the Throne for his numerous stage achievements. He was born in Cheltenham of Quaker parentage and made his debut with the Little Theatre in Brighton, where he quickly became its leading actor. After four years in the provinces he joined the Birmingham Repertory Company, where two other young actors, Laurence Olivier and Cedric Hardwicke, like himself, looked to London as their goal. The triamvirate were destined to be associates in many productions for many years. They bowed to the London public together in George Bernard Shaw's "Back to Methuselah," which was followed by Tennyson's verse play "Harold."

Geraldine McEwan (Lady Teazle) After several successful appearances in London, and a guest apperance back in Windsor, Geraldine McEwan joined the Shakespeare Memorial Company during their 1956 season to play the Princess of France in "Loves Labour's Lost." She was at Stratford-on-Avon the following year to play Olivia in "Twelfth Night." Marina in "Pericles" and Hero in "Much Ado about Nothing." In 1960 she again played Olivia, this time at the Shakespeare Memorial's Company's London headquarters. The following season she return to Stratford-on-Avon as Beatrice in "Much Ado About Nothing" and Ophelia in "Hamlet." Interspersed with her Shakespearean roles were appearances as Sir Laurence Olivier's leading lady in "The Entertainer," "Member of the Wedding," "Change of Tune" and earlier this year in "Everything in the Garden."

Laurence Naismith (Sir Oliver Surface) was born in Surrey and educated at a church choir school in London where Laurence Olivier was a fellow pupil. The two men appeared together in several school plays, one of which they performed at the Old Memorial Theatre in Stratford-on-Avon.

Laurence Olivier could undoubtedly give Kevin Bacon a run for his money in connectedness. And that's as much a part of him as Hamlet or Rebecca. He's a thread that ties everything together. The fabric of theater itself. Limitless.

Editing Spotlight: The Red Shoes

2011-07-05T12:39:00.003-04:00

The Red Shoes (1948)

Film Editing by: Reginald Mills

The Red Shoes is a film that I could gush about for days on end. If the number of films that can be considered true art is quite small (at least according to Roger Ebert) this is one that should absolutely be on that list. I've written about this Powell and Pressburger classic (and this very scene) elsewhere, and have written more generally about the film here for the first film preservation blogathon, but wanted to write an entry with a more focused approach.

The most famous sequence in the film is The Red Shoes ballet, but one of my favorites is an earlier scene that displays the same level of technical mastery and in certain ways provides an important introduction to the later, more cited ballet sequence. So much of its power is in the rhythm of the editing and in ways the ordering of shots play with viewer expectation.

At this point in the film Vicky (Moira Shearer) has yet to impress Lermontov (Anton Walbrook) enough to let her join the ballet company full-time.

She is given permission to perform the lead at the dinkier Mercury Theater, introduced in this dreary establishing shot at odds with the previous work put into the Covent Garden sequences to make post-war London look brighter and cheerier than it actually was at the time.

There is a disheveled, weather beaten notice to match, with Vicky's appearance hap hazardly pasted over the original announcement. The camera tracks in on her portion of the poster, boasting not only Victoria Page but the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

There is then a dissolve to a spinning record

A subtle joke about the supposed "live" music accompanying the performance.

The spinning fan and the circular speaker graphically match the record and the cheap, lackadaisical atmosphere

Victoria Page performs to the increasing tempo of the music. She begins a series of pirouettes...

... And the camera follows suit with a whirling POV shot, a first look into Victoria Page's mind that will be built upon in The Red Shoes ballet, a sequence which depends on the inner workings of a dancer to effect an otherworldly stage presence. This dizzying series lands squarely on...

... Lermontov, who has been sitting in on the performance unbeknownst to Page.

Ruh roh.

The dance goes on, including a hilarious pan where the "live" records have to be switched and all hell almost breaks loose.

The pace continues to quicken.

Finally Page finishes the dance and looks to Lermontov

But this supposed eyeline match is merely a fake out as Lermontov has already left. Another man moves into his place, leaving Vicky unsure of her fate.

Watch the full scene (and more) below.

what olivia de havilland means to me

2011-07-02T17:36:00.000-04:00

Yesterday Olivia de Havilland celebrated her 95th birthday. I still don't know as much about her as I would like. Word on the street is she's a pretty snazzy lady. What I do know is what she came to mean to me as a kid.

I wish I could put my fedora just so over one beguiling eye and claim that I first knew Olivia de Havilland from Adam in that obscure number on the bottom shelf of filmlandia. That one with the cobwebs all over it and a big red warning sign reading 'insiders only.' But I can't. I'm left standing out in the cold with all the other mugs in line for Gone With the Wind.

Without getting all slobbery let's just say there was a time when I needed a role model. That time happened to coincide with the year I was taken to a theatrical screening of Gone With the Wind during its re-release in 1998. I was awed. And in it I felt I had found a like soul. Not in that flame thrower Scarlett O'Hara but in her counterpart, Melanie Hamilton.

Yes, that pale faced, mealy mouthed Melanie Hamilton. She was the quiet strength and compassion that found me when I needed to know how to act like a grown up. And I can't even begin to describe the impact.

For me Olivia de Havilland is quite simply the power of film.

Who ARE those guys?

2011-06-30T13:11:00.002-04:00

Wild Card #2. There were no Parent Trap style handshakes involved but I have nonetheless made a pact with Amanda of A Noodle in A Haystack to produce one wild card post a month. Not only is it a chance to flex muscles outside of filmdom, it has the added fun of not knowing what we may come up with. Feel free to pull up a chair and join us if you like. The more the merrier.

Walking through stores I always notice them. Picture frames on display with black and white photographs peering from newly minted frames, ghosts encased in silver too bright for their faded world. And I've always wondered why. Are some old photographs in the public domain, making them a more suitable choice for companies that want to give potential buyers an idea of how their own loved ones will look? Do families donate their likeness? Or is it some perverse reminder of what we all will soon become? Souls for sale. Two for the price of one.

More Classic Coens-O Brother, Where Art Thou? Edition

2011-06-20T11:11:00.000-04:00

Joel Coen has described O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) as The Odyssey meets The Three Stooges. Such a description encapsulates why the Coen Brothers are one of my favorite filmmaking teams working today. I have a soft spot for artists who know their history and are able to find creative ways to incorporate it into their own work. I previously pointed out some connections between The Hudsucker Proxy and the Frank Capra canon in this post and was delighted to see another link to classic film in my latest CB viewing. While more subtle I can't help but connect it to another one of my favorites.

About midway through the film Everett (George Clooney) has a run in with his ex-wife (Holly Hunter) and her uppity new beau, Vernon T. Waldrip (Ray McKinnon). When Everett speaks unkindly to his wife Vernon feels he must intervene, and the two put up their dukes.

While it may be coincidence Vernon's over exaggerated, seemingly inexperienced stance immediately reminded me of Gary Cooper's character in Ball of Fire.

Even though the tables are turned with Vernon as the Dana Andrews aggressor with this in mind I knew that he would be quite a shot.

It is a subtle move that not only defies viewer expectation but further cemented my admiration. Oh, and the rest of the film is amazing too. How it took me 11 years to get around to watching it I'll never know.

new name, same blog

2011-06-14T19:47:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to write a quick note to let everyone know that the blog formerly known as Or Maybe Eisenstein Should Just Relax is now Movie Montage. As much as I loved my old name it only recently dawned on me (I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed) that while what I post here should fall under fair use (or I'm good about giving credit where credit is due, at least) having song lyrics from a modern work as the shining searchlight for my blog is probably not the greatest idea. I occupy a rather specific and small corner of the internet so while I doubt it would ever be a problem it just seemed like the thing to do. I also don't want some menacing fellow with a baseball bat and a double breasted suit to take me out to the ballgame under the sea, so to speak. With the new name I have no such worries, it still retains links to Eisenstein and to editing, and identifies this blog from the start with film. I also admit to deriving pleasure from alliteration, and my vanity loves the sound of Meredith of Movie Montage. It makes me feel more important than I actually am.

So sorry to confuse everyone once again with all these changes, I think after this the dust will finally have settled.

Editing Spotlight: Death of a Cyclist

2011-06-12T16:28:00.002-04:00

Muerta de un ciclista (1955)

Film Editing By: Margarita de Ochoa

Death of a Cyclist opens with a tease where a cyclist leisurely disappears from view. Then a crash, a bang, a sudden screech of wheels, and in this moment the film changes, as suddenly as the lives of the characters trapped in its web are transformed by this early original sin.

Maria (Lucia Bose) and Juan (Alberto Closas), the culprits behind this crime, find themselves on the road that day as lovers who must hide their meetings from Maria's husband Miguel (Otello Toso). The death of the cyclist is something they swear to forget till the mischievous Rafa (Carlos Casaravilla) hints that they may not have been as alone or discreet as previously assumed. Perhaps Miguel might be interested in his suspicions as well.

The pace of the editing of the film as a whole follows a similar murderous path, cutting just before the viewer would expect, quickening the pace, shortening the breath between life and death. In one instance, if memory serves, there is even a rapid cut from a youthful college student to a church cemetery, a scene transition that also acts as montage. Such moves can either hit with the bluntness of a rusty hammer or cut clean through, and Death of a Cyclist exhibits a little of both.

For me the most breathtaking sequence in the film is the lead in to the supposed 'outing' when it is presumed that Rafa has told all. It occurs during a "Spanish" dance which is introduced as a joke, a costume party of sorts put on for the benefit of a couple of foreigners. And (at least according to another stereotypical trope) do not the Aunt Bessies and Myrtle Mays of Paris, Illinois, their camera straps trapped between mini mountains of neck fat, always prefer a little romanticism?

A transition from the swipe of a grand piano to the strumming of a guitar,
from modernity to ethnic tradition

Dancers stomp to the soulful singing of Gracia Montes in an entrancing number meant to enhance rather than distract from the ugly meeting that will soon take place. This use of sound focuses the audience even more intensely on the emotional impact of the scene.

Carlos Casaravilla (The Spanish Buster Keaton?) whispering to Lucia Bose, their expressions the only indicator of the ugliness of his words which are drowned by the music

The loud dance setting does not simply act as a shield. The music and the rhythm of the background action are paramount to the central tension.

Editing plays the most important role in building this tension while simultaneously linking it into the greater narrative. The camera jumps between isolated aspects of the performance and the nervous faces of the leads. Jarring extreme closeups cause further disorientation and add to the drama. Despite this spatial dislocation eye lines between the central characters are clearly maintained and given added weight by the tight framing, making the importance of relationships (sanctioned and elicit) all-important, not just in plot but in overall construction.

The full scene (and the film) are definitely worth a look.

Bridesmaids (2011), Vulgarity, and The Case of the Laughing Theater Audience

2011-06-02T13:18:00.005-04:00

Poirot is too busy buying a new mustache comb and Marple has found herself tangled in yards of yarn. But I’ve read enough Agatha Christie mysteries to know when something is amiss, and have decided to tackle this investigation myself.

The Facts Were These.

Weekday nights the local Cineplex becomes a ghost town. Empty packets of sour patch kids flutter across the floor like tumbleweed as one lone hombre mans the concessions, waiting for customers that will likely never come.

But this is only a stage trick, and as 9:30pm nears our theater begins to fill. The audience for the evening consists of those old enough to see an R rated movie without having to sneak in, but not old enough to have milk bottles holstered at the hip. A theatergoers dream where crying children dance like sugarplums in sleep deprived heads, mercifully out of our earshot.

The lights dim for Bridesmaids, a new comedy garnering attention for its strong female cast.

But I wasn’t laughing.

Why wasn’t I laughing?

The plot thickens.

I did enjoy Bridesmaids (and speaking of plot the title more or less speaks for itself). I too grant praise to its strong female cast, notably Kristen Wiig (who also co-wrote the script) and Melissa McCarthy, who almost steals the show.

But my enjoyment remained largely confined to the occasional smile where everyone else seemed to roar. It felt like being the last kid picked for kickball all over again.

I just don’t find projectile vomit funny. Did I not go to enough frat parties (aka any) in college to find the concept of throwing up in another girls hair entertaining? Possibly.

To keep this from turning into commentary on ‘whatever happened to class,’ it is worth noting that this sort of physical comedy has been present in films since the beginnings. As has a brand of ‘bad taste’ criticism, notably in relation to early Chaplin comedies that were criticized for their vulgarity by the newly minted middle class movie audience. A famous example of this form of comedy is the opening of The Immigrant (1917) where Chaplin leans over the side of a boat, giving the impression that the tramp is seasick and hurling. But when he comes up he reveals that he is actually fishing.

Of course the difference here is that the joke works because of the power of suggestion and misdirection. The effect would be quite different if Chaplin had actually blown chunks all over Edna Purviance.

And that’s why I left the theater largely disappointed. Wiig and the rest of the cast proved capable of what I’ll call a different kind of comedy as using the words ‘intelligent’ or ‘sophisticated’ might make me hurl. A hilarious airplane scene where Wiig uses her body with the same goofy grace and ease as Lucille Ball, or a sequence where she struggles to get the attention of a cop with each gag topped infinitum.

Such comedy is planned. Timed. Vomiting is involuntary. A passive action defined by lack of control. And it feels like a cop out.

Differences in taste aside I can’t knock the feeling that the crass humor (not confined to vomiting) is disingenuous. Yes, SNL has featured waterfalls of vomit for years, and yes, I love that the film tackles female stereotypes and presents a picture of women who are allowed to take part in acts entirely ‘unfeminine.’ What bothers me is that in promotion and execution it seems less a statement of ‘girls will be girls,' but rather ‘girls will be boys.’ Basically I won't be happy until I see a movie poster with promotion reading 'not another dumb action movie.'

I praise Bridesmaids for its challenge of form, but in the end the film can’t escape one of the chick flicks ultimate clichés. Maybe this is just a case of “it’s not you, it’s me.”

But I don’t want to be the stereotypical deadbeat boyfriend. Gender aside I’ll settle for awkward guy friend standing on the sidelines, knowing the film can do better.

The Girl, The Film Blog

2011-05-24T13:59:00.014-04:00

Over the years this site has gone through a series of hiccups and transformations. And what would a film blog be without a little my sister, my daughter, my sister, my daughter action? For those of you who've stuck around, bless you. I've decided that the time has come to move out of ch-ch-ch-changes teenage hell, and thought the place to start would be to create a post (which I've also turned into a page to be updated as necessary) that gives a general sense of what I hope Internet stumblers will find here, now and in the future.

In terms of content this blog can be broken down as follows.

Reviews of films old and new, but mostly old. Since this is primarily a classic film blog most films highlighted will be pre-1970 but I'd like to throw in more current offerings as well. To be a rogue time traveler is not to get stuck in any one space.
Pieces highlighting personal experiences relatable to classic film, whether this be an event, a location, or a chance encounter with a shadowy stranger. Except that last option actually sounds terrifying. Scratch that.
Editor's Spotlight: Posts focused on the contributions of a named editor, the importance of editing to a specific film or more microscopic shot breakdowns/scene analysis that also takes into account how editing functions in respect to all other aspects of a production.
Other Topics. This could be anything really but some areas of film I'm especially interested in are star studies, new media uses of classic film, home front propaganda pictures of WWII, and a non-auteurist approach to cinema as a way to bring other contributors into the mix.
One Wild Card post a month on any topic unrelated to film for a little flavor.

This list is by no means all inclusive. Like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get.

Except that line has never made much sense to me because you do know. You're going to untie that perfect bow and get some form of chocolate, or run screaming back to the overpriced store where you bought it and demand what you paid for. I guess 'you never know what kind you're gonna get' doesn't sound as quotable. And what if the box specifically says all milk chocolate? Whatever, Forrest Gump. Whatever. We're done.

To come to the point this is a film blog. Therefore, a reader can and should expect film related topics. Even the spam is custom tailored. Who knew Bette Davis loved... well I'll stop there.

The url for this site Vote For Gracie is so named because one of my favorite historical quirks is comedienne Gracie Allen's mock Presidential Campaign of 1940 (♫Those big politicians don't know what to do/Gracie doesn't know either/But neither do you!). Because I like to make life confusing the actual name for this blog is Or Maybe Eisenstein Should Just Relax which I wish I was brilliant enough to think up myself but is actually from a Jack Johnson song called Inaudible Melodies.

I decided on this title for a number of reasons. For one my personal background is a mix of theory and production. I have a B.A. in film studies and will be pursuing an MFA starting in the fall with a focus in film editing. I'll never be Eisenstein, of course, but I love that he played both ends of the field, creating new art (and a new method of editing) while also contributing to written work on the subject. With a lot of luck and work this is what I hope to do as well.

Editor/montage joke aside the relax part is also important because I hope this blog is fun to read. This isn't Cinema Journal, I'm not James Agee (though a girl can dream), and when the main reason people find this site is a search for pictures of Thelma Todd's dead body I really can't take myself too seriously. My plan is to aim somewhere more squarely between fandom and film analysis, combining critical enquiry with readability. Meat and potatoes with some whipped cream on top. Though hopefully not as disgusting as that sounds.

So out with some of the old, in with a few things that are new. Here is your chance to run like hell while you still can. In stuffing and shaping the past I sometimes get confused, and who knows what you might find down in the fruit cellar....

EDIT Since writing this post the name of this blog has been changed to Movie Montage.

Queen Victoria, Colonialism, and The Rains Came (1939)

2011-05-17T15:07:00.017-04:00

YAM has elected to host any unofficial entries to the 1939 blogathon through its site (thanks guys!). I didn't hear about the venture in time to officially apply but as a veritable milestone year in film I still wanted to join in the fun. No offence meant to the cool cats in CMBA, we play in our corner of the sandbox in peace. As the film I have elected to write about has already been reviewed it seems only fair to provide a link as I'm not trying to steal anyones thunder.

Such a turn of phrase is also appropriate for a discussion of a film famous for special effects. In that oft cited banner year The Rains Came beat out heavy hitters like Gone With the Wind and The Wizard of Oz, new fangled technicolor marvels, for the special effects Oscar.

Even the first credit showcases a technical mastery as the title melts from the screen

The Rains Came takes place in Ranchipur in the year 1938. It stars Myrna Loy as a different kind of lady whose trademark flipped nose remains stuck in the air through most of the film, George Brent as resident bad boy, and Tyrone Power as an 'Indian' doctor too involved with his work to take much notice of the blatant advances of Loy. I say 'Indian' because for Hollywood in a certain period that meant placing Power in a turban and giving him a little extra spray tan.

I find it interesting that Myrna Loy's brief account of the film in her autobiography includes this account of Power's character, as it is written with a kind of elementalism and poetry often associated with Indian culture.

"He used to invent games for us to play on the set, just to keep my mind off other things. "If you weren't who you are," he asked, "what would you like to be?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," I replied. "Do you know what you'd like to be if you weren't Ty?"
He made a graceful sweeping gesture with his hands: "I would like to be the wind, so I could be light and free and be anywhere I want at any time. I could go all around the world and look in people's windows and share their joys and sorrows. "When he died, that's all I could think of. I said to myself, "Well, all right, he's the wind."
-From Being and Becoming by Myrna Loy

Other elements aren't quite as poetic, with characters including

Nigel Bruce as Smug British Jackass #1

Famous Russian Actress Maria Ouspenskaya as the Maharani, another victim of Snookie Orange Glow

Monkeys! And other native elements of the simple minded and affable variety

The reason this film is generally discussed is the tremendous rain and earthquake sequences where gallons of water gush over bridges, buildings, and people without prejudice.

Yet another film that confirms my preference for an industry pre-CGI

Other elements given less notice but worth mentioning are lighting and sound, which were made doubly difficult in the ways they had to factor in the tremendous weather. Sound in the necessity to balance the dialogue with a downpour, and lighting especially in effects meant to produce lightning and an overall gloomy atmosphere.

Candle/Lighter shots are particularly difficult as they have to give the impression of a single light source that must be timed to go out at the exact moment Myrna Loy gives a huff

While the effects are amazing, in my second viewing of this film the greater part of my attention was paid to the strange politics. On the one hand it criticizes the Raj and British expats as pompous and obscene, a thread that diminishes and is ultimately extinguished in the main character arcs of the film. With this in mind I have to bring in who in my view is the most important player in the film.

Queen Victoria.

While only a mere statue her importance is a symbolic one, and in her lies the central message of the film. You might have first noticed her presence in the background of one of the stills above, centrally framed behind the monkeys. It seems fitting that in this first sequence Brent takes out a sling shot and tries to scatter the native pests while Victoria remains serene and unwavering in the background.

She remains a central figure in the only patriotic speech in the film, the only instance that blatantly admits any knowledge of current events. George Brent's remarks are as follows:

"I've got faith in a lot of things, for instance Queen Victoria... To you she's only a statue, but to me she's an old friend. A living reminder of the fine, brave days before the world went to seed. When London bridge did its falling to a dance step, not to the threat of tomorrow's bombs. When every American was a millionaire, or about to be one.... There she stands in her cast iron petticoat, unconcerned about wars, dictators, and appeasement, as serene as ever. God Bless her."

Where Americans and the British come into play, modern India does not. While I know very little about India or its history the name Gandhi and his peaceful protestations of autocratic rule should ring some bells.

Victoria comes in later in the film when Brent nearly drowns, and provides an anchor to safety. Where complex buildings are reduced to rubble, Victoria stands.

Even her outfit bears some resemblance to a sari with her head draped in an elaborate cloth, a hint at the woman as nation metaphor present in famous Indian films like Mother India or in paintings where the sari becomes the upper portion of a picture of the country itself. Instead of an Indian woman as country the former Empress of India is given this prominent position.

The only 'Indian' woman in the film given any real screen time is the Maharani, and however skewed the portrait she does present a stalwart image in the face of great strife. But her reign is replaced by Powers, and the picture ends with an image of India still tied to its colonial trappings.

So why Victoria? Why this strange return to the past? I can't say that I have an answer, but will instead provide an anecdote. Two years ago I met an Englishman, an older gentlemen the very image of Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady. He even professed a fascination with linguistics and commended my proper usage of a few choice words that we Americans tend to muddle. He went briefly into his past, including mention of a boyhood spent in India in what must have been the 30s and 40s. When I asked him about it his eyes shone and he lamented that it was wonderful then. It is the sad then that stuck out.

I wondered then as now at these strange markers of forgotten times that most celebrate for their passing. Yet here they remain.

portrait of an art gallery

2011-05-15T11:59:00.015-04:00

There were no Parent Trap style handshakes involved but I have nonetheless made a pact with Amanda of A Noodle in A Haystack to produce one wild card post a month. Not only is it a chance to flex muscles outside of filmdom, it has the added fun of not knowing what we may come up with. Feel free to pull up a chair and join us if you like. The more the merrier.

Art is generally prized for its form. What is discussed less, but can be just as important, is the space in which the artwork is exhibited. This is always taken into account, and sometimes plays an integral part in the conception. But rarely does a piece of art have a lasting impact on the experience of the gallery itself, and by extension all formal presentations of art. Which is why I'd like to discuss my experience viewing a collection of Damien Hirst portraits at the Wallace Collection two years ago in London. While a far cry from a personal favorite no one can deny his ability to stir and incite. I experienced no less in my only personal viewing of his work.

If compiling a list of controversial artists YBA Hirst is sure to be foremost among them. In the 90s he turned the art world on its head with his the physical impossibility of death in the mind of someone living, a showcase featuring a tiger shark preserved in formaldehyde. To his further discredit in some circles due to deterioration of the original piece of 'artwork' another shark was purchased as a replacement in 2006. Some have mused that Hirst himself should be embalmed and placed on display to see how he likes the practice.

While nowhere near as controversial, his exhibition No Love Lost, Blue Paintings (October 2009-January 2010) also welcomes similar critical engagement.

When viewed without context the works themselves are rather drab, to my eye. But as they say, location, location, location.

The Wallace Collection itself is a mansion frozen in time, each room decorated in such a way that it feels as though someone left the house 100 years ago, locked the door and not a thing has been touched since.

In this showy expanse the Damien Hirst exhibition highlighted the effects of decay you cannot see in painting. Entering the two rooms displaying his artwork felt cold and desolate, devoid of any antique furniture, pomp or circumstance. Patterns of skulls, shark jaws, lizards, and ashtrays replaced a monotony of opulence. The painting that most caught my eye was Floating Skull (2006) an eerie work dominated by a blue green glowing human cranium, with the rest of the frame a black void. My mind jumped to The Swing by Fragonard, on display in another room. With these paintings in mind her pinkish flesh begins to decay, the sumptuous clothes eaten by moths as all those before are made part of the earth. Hirst himself claims the exhibition was one "deeply connected with the past."

Portraits come to life with a price paid in sudden, gruesome understanding of their underlying decomposition both in matter and material. A passage of time that art defers, but can never really escape.

Why I should win a nonexistent contest for a spot on the TCM Classic Cruise

2011-05-13T13:59:00.015-04:00

If you've been following this blog for a time, or know me in life, you know my love of film to the point of over exuberant, pull out the roll on eye glitter excitement, especially as related to all things classic. I've also mentioned my fascination with old ocean liners and an instant interest in any film that utilizes them as a key setting. With these points in mind it should be no surprise that the moment I heard about this cruise I ran to the nearest empty telephone box and put on my Lucy Ricardo thinking cap.

One of my favorite quotes, ostensibly by Franz Kafka, is "By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired." Though in the words of Abe Lincoln "Never trust any quote you see on the Internet." Thus I'm going to ignore the fact that no such chance exists (yet), by providing as compelling a presentation as I can of why I should win a spot on the TCM Classic Cruise, as well as the various realistic plans I have should this scheme fall through.

The Pitch

As the Marx Brothers have taught us, it's entirely possible to fit an entire army of people in a closet size cabin. So what's one extra girl?
I know how to tap dance, so should the entire boat decide to break into song I could lead the charge. If character references are necessary, I have several friends who would be more than happy to attest to my ability to do so at the drop of a hat. As evidence I could also provide a Facebook album entitled "Flashdance made me do it."
There can never be enough entertainment on a cruise ship, and a collection of classic film fans offers so many potentialities. I would be more than willing to contribute and earn the experience in unique ways aside from the old standard of washing dishes (though that's always an option). For example

A Circus Style Booth where I can wow the crowds with my ability to channel the habits of an 85 year old. Come one come all to see the amazing Meredith! She eats dinner at 5pm! She's watched 8 seasons of Murder She Wrote!
Malicious Gossip with Meredith: A daily discussion of the great scandals of Hollywood, the proposed truths and untruths, and why either way Hollywood Babylon is still nothing more than an interesting piece of trash (truth? you can't handle the truth!). Followed by an encore where I then have to fight off everyone who loves Hollywood Babylon.
William Desmond Taylor Murder Mystery Dinner Party: Every other evening at 8pm. I'll play all the roles.

And many more!

Should This Plea Not Work Out For Some Strange Reason...

Barnyard musical.
Practice perfecting my I'll be back! cape swish

As God is my witness... well, you know the rest. More importantly, who's coming along? ;)

History is Made at Night (1937)

2011-05-10T22:58:00.010-04:00

The love that sank the Titanic

I really wanted to like this movie. As a Jean Arthur cheerleader with Mrs. Charles Boyer written all over my notebooks (I actually wish I wasn't kidding) I had all the hope and blind faith in the world. But in love as in war rosy beginnings often beget bitter ends. See All Quiet on the Western Front as reference.

History is Made at Night is not a war film in genre. In fact the script is never really able to decide what it wants to be at all. Instead the battlefield is one of character.

Boyer lacks the oceanic charm he would perfect two years later in Love Affair. Arthur fills her usual role as part movie star, part bashful child. One side of her face lit to perfection, the other, when it is shown (and rarely is it shown) a shadow of a girl who's just been told by a boy that she shouldn't wear her hair in pigtails because it looks prettier down.

The love is stale. To create beautiful music requires a rhythm, a build up. Here there is one brief beginning scene where all suddenly and unceremoniously falls into place. A crudely drawn face on Charles Boyer's hand meant to speak his feelings to Arthur adds embarrassment rather than tenderness.

Yet the above is all by the poorly written book. Until the end. Saints alive the end.

I know Hollywood likes to play fast and loose with the facts for a variety of reasons. But having Arthur and Boyer jump ship, pretty literally in a plot nosedive that lands them on some twisted Titanic II is simply crass. In fact it's worse than crass. Not quite despicable but somewhere in the realm of shameful. While the boat the two travel on at the end of the film is not meant to be a period piece aboard that most famous of ocean liners all the signs are there. A poorly made decision to break a speed record, a direct hit with an iceberg, lack of lifeboats amidst chaos, even a group of musicians performing stoically when the ship is supposed to go down. But it is not the Titanic, nor is it the same story. For in this tale all interest and potential blame is reduced to the needs of a romantic plot line and dramatic tension. 1,517 people degraded for a convenient end.

The result is sea sickness.

I know some people love this film, and that I'm letting dramatics run away with me. I appreciate that someone was kind enough to bring my attention to it. But personally I can only shake my head at lost potential, and hang it for what in my view is a lack of respect shown lost life.

Link Love #1

2011-05-08T16:49:00.006-04:00

Recently I've been inspired by several blogs either devoted to links or featuring occasional spotlights to start one of my own. I know I appreciate it when others enjoy what I write enough to share, whether it be through posts, facebook, twitter, or in awards, and I want to share in that sense of community in a more active way. Possibly once a month, will see how things go. Will also include other items of interest, mainly film related but I make no promises.

Posts

The severely underrated Gerald's latest installment of the monthly series Ten Random Thoughts on the Tenth. Few are more insightful in so few words.
On the theme of less is more Clara's series of classic film haikus are all worth a look. My favorite is still her take on Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Speaking of Audrey Hepburn, one of the nicest bloggers around, Casee, shares her love of the star in Our Huckleberry Friend: Remembering Audrey Hepburn, focusing on the real woman behind the twisted style icon facade.
I love how Kendra takes her love of the Oliviers outside the internet in the people she meets, the places she goes and the event she has planned that I wish I could attend! Recently Kendra visited Tickerage Mill, home of Vivien Leigh, and shared her adventure.
In the spirit of the day Heather's lovely post about pen pals and parental love, Trudy

Also of Interest

Issue #72 of Bright Lights Cinema Journal is out!
Cannes begins next Wednesday. View a few of their beautiful posters from the past here
Love Russian Cinema? Mosfilm is now offering free access to over 500 films for free. Happy viewing! Also filed under perks of being friends with your former professors on Facebook, as I would not have found this otherwise.
Fantastic Science Friday featuring Werner Herzog, Cormac McCarthy and Lawrence Krauss.
Going to the Show: Mapping Moviegoing in North Carolina from 1896-1930. A look at the importance of space to film outside of the big city centers where the majority experience cinema.

Just For Fun

Video Montage dedicated to 'The Great Stone Face' aka Buster Keaton

things I didn't learn in film studies

2011-05-05T12:59:00.009-04:00

Over the past four years I've had one conversation over and over again. Because after where are you from and various comments about the weather invariably comes the age old question what are you studying in school?

Answering film studies is like diving head first into concrete. As a fairly new scholarly pursuit the primary response, especially if the person I'm talking with is older, is a blank stare or a resounding huh? where the mental image is and should always be of a person with an ear trumpet and cataract glasses leaning sideways and saying speak up girlie because I don't think I heard you clearly.

But now it's official. Well, as official as a ceremonial rite of passage can be. No one dared throw their cap in the air, though one rogue beach ball threaded through the crowd as those seated on the stage in their academic jedi robes spoke about 'the future' and other vague concepts.

Now the question is no longer one of future study but of something in the past.

I've unashamedly loved my time in film studies, and don't view a diploma as an end. But instead of compiling a saccharine list of things I've learned I thought I'd try a different tack in an attempt to keep myself from turning into a bad Hallmark card.

So here is a short list of things I didn't learn.

It's ok to be a pretentious jerkface
I think the general impression of those who study film is one of noses in air and rooms devoid of oxygen by chests puffed up with self-importance. And while there certainly are people like that more often than not I've seen them shot down and slapped like a deck of cards in Egyptian rat screw. There is a difference between a stretch and a snap that breaks with all logical reasoning in favor of poetic license. If groping for the latter be prepared for a healthy helping of 'lucy you've got some splainin' to do' and an eyebrow raise.

The director is God
Auteur theory aside the great thing about being taught to more actively watch a film is the appreciation it brings for all other aspects of the process. Not to say that such attention to detail requires a course or a degree but it certainly has changed how I watch and think about film. While there is still a clear bias in film studies (dictated in certain ways by general taste) in the kinds of classes that are taught I hope to one day see not just courses devoted to Woody Allen but the likes of Walter Murch or Jack Cardiff as well.

There are others...
Just like you. That's the nerd dream, right? While I have had some great film discussions it is possible to feel just as alienated and alien-like as in any other setting. For example about two years ago I was giving a presentation on Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo. I don't remember the exact exchange but here's the gist:

The scene we just watched also included references to popular music that the audience would have recognized. For example the phrase 'bomb me daddy, eight to the bar.'

~Blank stares~

It's a playoff on 'beat me daddy, eight to the bar.'

~Shaking heads~

The Andrews Sisters

~Still nothing~

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy?

~Nervous laughter~

So much for kumbaya.

You have to know it all
One of the pitfalls of having a degree in film studies is that it opens the possibility for heightened scorn. A what? You haven't seen such and such film? (To fill in the blank I'll go with The Shining) or pressure to be able to ratchet off the films of Alice Guy in chronological order or discuss the political implications of Chaplin's impish smile on a whim. When studying something so a part of everyday life that almost everyone has some opinion on it becomes a game to prove knowledge and worth. On the one hand this can be frustrating, on the other it strengthens the drive to learn.

You can see them all
In studying films from a variety of countries, times, movements, genres, whatever the categorization the list of must see or should watch tumbles like a continuously unraveling carpet, always a step ahead.

On the one hand this can be frustrating, on the other it strengthens the drive to continue to watch.

classic castaways

2011-04-27T20:56:00.022-04:00

There's an oft repeated and varied tale of two friends who go to a video store. When passing the classics section one laments that they "just don't make em' like they used to." The other extends his arm in a grand gesture and counters, "these are the ones that have survived." I don't recall where I first heard it, or whether the story is even true, but the comment is justified. It wasn't just Citizen Kanes and Taylor's and Paine's, and for every heavy hitter double the flops. According to Robert Sklar a 1930s survey distributed to screenwriters allowing them to comment on their industry and the product it produced resulted in a whopping three fourths negative response.

But there's a flip to the coin. A haven commonly referred to as films so bad they're kind of good. Which for good or ill I'm willing to admit to. This post will celebrate just a few of my favorite train wrecks.

Thirteen Women (RKO Radio Pictures, 1932)

A year before RKO would make King Kong there was this monstrosity. In a far cry from Nora Charles famous 'good wife' Myrna Loy plays a half caste maniac who decides to destroy her former classmates, including Irene Dunne, for bullying her in the past. This could be a fantastic comment on racism and the ways minorities have been marginalized in society. But what tack does this film take? To give Myrna the power to hypnotize people with nothing more than her makeup lathered artificially slanted eyes. And I can't look away either, especially when Myrna decides the way to destroy Dunne is to plant an explosive in her son's bouncy ball (Halloween candy's not the only reason to fear strangers, kids!). I can't decide if this film is a drama, a poor stab at comedy, or a more personal brand of horror film that makes you want to turn your own skin inside out.

The best part? It actually ends in a train wreck.

Parachute Jumper (Warner Brothers, 1933)

While only released a month before 42nd Street the two do not sit side by side in public memory. I honestly have no recollection of the plot of this one and it isn't memorable enough to warrant the five seconds it would take to read a plot synopsis on imbd. The reasons this one is so great? Bette Davis as a sassy southern belle with an accent to match. Jezebel pre-code style. Also fun for the le gasp! People had middle fingers in the 1930s and knew how to use them! moments.

Casino Royale (MGM, 1966)

Before Daniel Craig there was David Niven as Bond. Both he and this film are not placed in the great pantheon of 007 films for good reason as the film acts as an anthropological study in where careers go to die (hey it's work, right?). Yet there are hidden, can't look away style gems. I will provide three magical screen caps to demonstrate. When I snap my fingers again you will immediately view this film.

I give you

David Niven in an alpine hat.

Woody Allen in a sombrero with a David Niven punching bag (sans Alpine hat)

Drugged Deborah Kerr dancing a jig.

And voila!

Hush... Hush Sweet Charlotte

(2oth Century Fox, 1964)

Something of a camp classic, though not as well known as its cousin Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? also starring Bette Davis as a ham fisted shrill psychopath. That part makes me sad, honestly, and I don't find much fun in it. The reason to watch this film?

Olivia DeHavilland as a stone cold... we'll say fox.

For someone most remembered as sweet and syrupy (and I'd gladly order a Melanie Hamilton special any day) this one remains great fun to see her Cruella Deville side. Dalmation coats would suit her splendidly.

Beloved Infidel (20th Century Fox, 1959)

Basically Baywatch porn made for romantics instead of 15 year old boys. Meaning, of course, that I love it. Gregory Peck as F. Scott Fitzgerald: the drunken years (or was that every year?). Deborah Kerr as Sheilah Graham, famous gossip columnist. Solid performances, though many question Peck's casting. Honestly I'm too busy drooling to really care. Both have seen better days. Special points in this one to costume design and art direction, which are stunning to look at though don't make up for a cotton candy script. A film best described by exclamation points. Love in the sand! Day trips to Tijuana! Who could ask for anything more.

Moral of this slightly embarrassing story? They still don't make em' like they used to. And maybe, in some ways, that's a good thing.

bom chicka bow woww

2011-04-18T14:14:00.006-04:00

Claiming my blog on bloglovin' and using this as an excuse to post pictures of Gregory Peck.

Post well spent.

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Writing Your Own Obituary-Sunset Boulevard Style

2011-03-30T12:15:00.008-04:00

In my nonfiction class this past week our topic was how to write an obituary. Since actually having to report on someone else's death for a class would be a) incredibly invasive and b) incredibly depressing we were able to write about our own deaths and, if we wished, have fun with it. That may sound like a contradiction in terms but it can be an empowering exercise in both examining one's own mortality and bringing into focus how you wish to be perceived and remembered. I elected to write myself into the shadows of the past and the future in grandiose terms that Norma Desmond would approve. A macabre "about me."

* * *

Meredith, best known as the first woman time traveler, died this past Saturday March 26^th at the age of 96. Hers was a peaceful passing in her London flat surrounded by two beloved dogs, George and Gracie. Also present were a pet rock and an ipod engraved with the phrase “damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.” This engraving was not originally inspired by the words of Admiral David Farragut, rather by the comic musings of Charles Coburn in the 1940s film The More the Merrier.

Meredith was born in the nation’s capital on October 17, 1915. Her formative years were more Clarissa Saunders than Pollyanna as the daughter of a Pennsylvania Senator who taught her never to lie, cheat or steal by doing all three. Meredith grew tired of the political ring around the Rosie's from the best New England families and the run around the couch. Wanting a fresh start she moved to Hollywood in the late 1930s where she became a regular performer on radio. Her best-known film role was as Bette Davis’ second cousin in what would become legend as the star’s lost film that would never be released.

After being blacklisted in 1951 for her work on several left leaning screenplays, Meredith attended Berkley where she earned a degree in English literature. At Berkeley Meredith would invent her time traveling device. It would take many years to perfect and the first run did not occur until Dec 12, 1979. It was a limited but important innovation that would only let Meredith go into her own personal past, a first step that would forever collapse the meaning of the word history.

Meredith divided her time between writing for film journals and editing feature films in the ‘present’ while simultaneously traveling into her past to recover artifacts and films for future preservation. If one looks closely at the burning of Atlanta scene in Gone With the Wind it becomes apparent that the famous King Kong gate is not really reduced to ash, but instead beamed into space through the flames. The original set is now on display at the Smithsonian Institute.

In 1989 Meredith completed her last mission and married her first and only husband, Michael Cuspit, a well-respected architect. His worldwide clientele made it possible for the pair to travel extensively the good old-fashioned way, a luxury that Meredith cherished. After his death in 2005 Meredith moved to London where she remained until her death.

Meredith’s cousin Ann said she was “the kind of girl who never forgot nail clippers” and whose passion for all aspects of film knew no bounds.

A memorial reception will be held at the British Film Institute next Saturday at 2pm in the foyer. A screening of Meredith’s own feature film titled Three Singing Nuns and a Ukulele Take Paris will follow the service. Donations can be made in her honor to the National Film Preservation Foundation.

How would you wish to be remembered?

Elizabeth Taylor (1932-2011)

2011-03-24T11:15:00.000-04:00

The New York Times obituary for Elizabeth Taylor begins with a short sentence that encapsulates the end of an era: "the last movie star died Wednesday." It's a breathtaking statement and one that rings true. There are many left who we should continue to celebrate, not forget, but no one as prolific or iconic as Taylor. To watch her performance in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is to recognize that those beautiful violet eyes could turn to daggers or to velvet with ease, and hers was far more than a pretty face. I must take issue with the rest of the above cited obituary, which seeks to bolster Taylor at the expense of all other old Hollywood actresses who are far too easily written off and unnecessarily cut down. I say this not to take the spotlight off Taylor, but because I think what was so wonderful about her was a projected lack of cattiness or pettiness. Her strength was in herself. She was a figure larger than life, without comparison.

Read the full times obit here

modern medusas-setting up the femme fatale

2011-02-15T21:43:00.006-05:00

It's that time of year again! That's right, the for the love of film (noir) blogathon hosted by the inimitable and irreplaceable Self-Styled Siren (aka Farran Smith Nehme) and Marilyn Ferdinand. They have teamed up for an encore, partnering with the film noir foundation to help restore a print of The Sound of Fury, aka Try and Get Me. If you have a little money to spare ($5 or more) it's a fantastic opportunity to be a part of preserving film heritage for future generations. It's also sure to bring in some fantastic posts so be sure to check out the round-up at the above mentioned blogs.

So let's get to it!

Brief basics. Film noir is classically characterized as a genre based on a set of easily identifiable features: a low key style (lighting and camera angles) common themes (say, lack of regard for 'the law') and character types (the detective, the femme fatale, the token good girl).

The femme fatale is pretty easy to discern. She's the shady lady. The one who can match the leading man double entendre for double entendre and whose skirts remain teasingly above the knee.

I've chosen to focus on the construction of two of film noir's best known and best remembered femme fatales, Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944) and Ellen in Leave Her to Heaven (John M. Stahl, 1945) as played by Barbara Stanwyck and Gene Tierney respectively.

What makes Phyllis and Ellen especially memorable are the murder scenes, two of the best known and referenced in film history. What I find so striking is how similar both are in their structure, as well as the ways both films build up to the impact of these moments.

What I'd like to attempt to sketch out in this post is the implications of this for a common style construction of the femme fatale. What it is about these scenes that make them (and these women) so horrifying.

The First Looks

The obvious focus in each murder is on the callous expressions of Tierney and Stanwyck as they sit by and watch someone die. It is this lack of activity that gives them a certain power and creates terror. The impact of the face is built up in each film by its previous de-emphasis.

Stanwyck's first introduction at a distance gives her a seductive, ethereal quality.

That focuses on and emphasizes her body in the famous pan up from her legs.

Tierney's intro into the film takes this one step further by concealing her face behind a book.

The focus of the camera is on their bodies and their seductiveness for the poor saps who will take up with them. It is not about them personally. It is a certain carefully constructed image.

The sudden focus on the face in the murder scenes is a shock because it is previously withheld. It suddenly thrusts into focus a personal ugliness at odds with what once was glimmering perfection.

Sound

While the editing of the two murder scenes is different (DI is short, this first murder in LHTH is long and drawn out, part of what makes it so completely terrifying) in each case sound is what gives the viewer a picture of what is happening.

It is only through sound that we know that Phyllis's husband has been murdered as the camera remains on her as she (barely) reacts to what is happening right next to her.

While Leave Her to Heaven relies more on inter cutting and we do see Danny drown, we hear his offscreen screams, then the ominous stillness as Tierney's face remains unchanged.

The greatest power of off screen sound is suggestion. By leaving the murder in Double Indemnity up to the imagination the viewer can make it as horrific as they please. By pairing the sound of suffering with these unfeeling females it makes them all the more terrible.

This only skids across the surface (what can be made of the use of sunglasses in both films, for example) but what it points to is the importance of the greater stylistic construction of the femme fatale aside from finding the perfect shade of lipstick.

new (to me) films watched in 2011

2011-02-10T11:40:00.008-05:00

A bit late and always a dollar short but I do love a good list.

Films Fatales 2011

1. Heathers (Michael Lehman, 1985)

2. National Lampoon's Animal House (John Landis, 1978)

3. The Spiral Staircase (Robert Siodmak, 1946)

4. Leave Her to Heaven (John M. Stahl, 1945)

5. Winter's Bone (Debra Granik, 2010)

6. Road to Morocco (David Butler, 1942)

7. The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang, 1933)

8. Kid Auto Races at Venice (Henry Lehrman, 1914)

9. The Immigrant (Charles Chaplin, 1917)

10. One Week (Buster Keaton & Eddie Cline, 1920)

11. Romance Sentimentale (Grigori Alexsandrov & Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1930)

12. Limelight (Charles Chaplin, 1952)

13. The Property Man (Charles Chaplin, 1914)

14. A Night in the Show (Charles Chaplin, 1915)

15. Backstage (Roscoe Arbuckle, 1919)

16. The Playhouse (Buster Keaton & Eddie Cline, 1921)

17. Troubles of a Grasswidower (Max Linder, 1912)

18. The Tramp (Charles Chaplin, 1915)

19. The Pawnshop (Charles Chaplin, 1916)

20. Tango Tangles (Mack Sennett, 1914)

21. Dough and Dynamite (Charles Chaplin, 1914)

22. Neighbors (Buster Keaton & Eddie Cline, 1920)

23. The Saphead (Herbert Blache & Winchell Smith, 1920)

24. Our Hospitality (Buster Keaton & John G. Blystone, 1923)

25. Blow Out (Brian De Palma, 1981)

26. Land Without Bread (Luis Bunuel, 1933)
27. A Woman of Paris: A Drama of Pate (Charles Chaplin, 1923)
28. The Frozen North (Buster Keaton & Eddie Cline, 1922)
29. The General (Buster Keaton, 1925)
30. Parlor, Bedroom and Bath (Edward Sedgwick, 1931)
31. Allez Oop (Charles Lamont, 1934)
32. Jail Bait (Charles Lamont, 1937)
33. Monsieur Verdoux (Charles Chaplin, 1947)
34. Railrodder (Gerald Potterton, 1965)
35. A King in New York (Charles, Chaplin, 1957)
36. The Devil's Backbone (Guillermo Gel Toro, 2001)
37. The Blind Swordsman (Takeshi Kitano, 2003)
38. Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB (George Lucas, 1967)
39. The Halfmoon Files (Peter Scheffner, 2007)
40. District 9 (Neill Blomkamp, 2009)
41. History is Made at Night (Frank Borzage, 1937)
42. Pajama Party (Don Weis, 1964)
43. Eat Pray Love (Ryan Murphy, 2010)
44. Zelig (Woody Allen, 1983)
45. The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980)
46. Royal Wedding (Stanley Donen, 1951)
47. Sans Soleil (Chris Marker, 1982)
48. The Triplets of Belleville (Sylvain Chomet, 2003)
49. Tamara Drewe (Stephen Frears, 2010)
50. The Social Network (David Fincher, 2010)
51. Baby Blues (Lars Jacobson & Amardeep Kaleka, 2008)
52. Sex, Lies, and Videotape (Steven Soderbergh, 1989)
53. Never Let Me Go (Mark Romanek, 2010)
54. Girl, Interrupted (James Mangold, 1999)
55. Death of a Cyclist (Juan Antonio Bardem, 1955)
56. Lolita (Stanley Kubrick, 1962)
57. Bridesmaids (Paul Feig, 2011)
58. Donnie Darko (Richard Kelly, 2001)
59. Grizzly Man (Werner Herzog, 2005)
60. The Big Lebowski (Joel & Ethan Coen, 1998)
61. The Importance of Being Earnest (Oliver Parker, 2002)
62. Midnight in Paris (Woody Allen, 2011)
63. Cast Away (Robert Zemeckis, 2000)
64. Dogville (Lars Von Trier, 2004)
65. O Brother, Where Art Though? (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2000)
66. Lars and the Real Girl (Craig Gillespie, 2007)
67. The Hangover (Todd Phillips, 2009)
68. The Wrestler (Darron Aronofsky, 2008)
69. In the Bedroom (Todd Field, 2001)
70. Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973)
71. Frida (Julie Taymor, 2002)
72. Heaven Can Wait (Ernst Lubitsch, 1943)
73. 49th Parallel (Powell & Pressburger, 1941)
74. The Princess Comes Across (William K. Howard, 1936)
75. Yolanda and the Thief (Vincente Minnelli, 1945)
76. Blue (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1993)
77. Roger & Me (Michael Moore, 1989)
78. The Mirror (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975)
79. Walkabout (Nicolas Roeg, 1971)
80. Captain America: The First Avenger (Joe Johnston, 2011)
81. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (David Yates, 2011)
82. Blow Up (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1966)
83. Pickpocket (Robert Bresson, 1959)
84. Hiroshima Mon Amour (Alain Resnais, 1959)
85. Ashes and Diamonds (Andrzej Wajda, 1958)
86. Xala (Ousmane Sembene, 1975)

the shop around the corner as horror film

2010-12-22T14:59:00.003-05:00

For Sally's holiday blogathon (12 bloggers for the 12 days of Christmas, a rather nifty idea) I chose The Shop Around the Corner, a seasonal favorite directed by Ernst Lubitsch in 1940.

I haven't had much time to watch films lately, and when I have it has generally been time spent trying to fill gaps in my modern viewing. Thus when I sat down to watch the film after a number of years, I discovered something absolutely terrifying. More frightening than the fact that there is a holiday song devoted entirely to fruit cake. I'm not talking about how surprisingly depressing I found it this time around with its characters constantly worried about job security, so apt at the present time, or how it seemed more a parable for the perils of internet dating....

I was seeing it through modern eyes.

It seems a silly thing to say, but as much as it pains me for the first time I felt that alienation that quote "normal" people my age may experience when they watch an old film. Limited cutting, rather claustrophobic studio spaces. Even some of the stamped style similarities of old films are absent. There are no passage of time montages, nor is there any background music. For a film touted as a holiday favorite its sparsity cuts like a knife, its actors left to depend solely on each other to create a small world.

My God, the horror.

Instead of losing touch, losing the magic (for it slowly but steadily came back as my young eyes adjusted) it brought a new appreciation of the long take. Not at its showy best as in Citizen Kane, but as a strange collapse. After awhile I felt that I could inhabit the shop, walk around in the film space's shoes. I felt the same thing recently re-watching Remember the Night. There is a scene where Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck et al sit around a Christmas tree, singing songs and enjoying each other's company. The camera mostly just sits still in wait, a strange mirror of my own pose sitting next to a Christmas tree enjoying the company of friends. It was like we were all in the same room, enjoying the holidays together.

And I began to wonder if this is part of the otherworldliness of old film, if the lack of cuts makes it easier to 'experience' a film rather than feel strangely detached from it. An especially strange sensation given current preoccupations with making films 3D, making games more interactive. All the attention paid to bridging that gap. This is not to say that one way is better then the other, just as editing pace can be far too ADD these days it can also be far too slow depending on the situation. But there is something about that old quiet. Letting things lie just long enough for the viewer to settle in, but not so long as to become stilted. I've always thought of Lubitsch as an effortless comedy master, but here he simply lets things float gracefully, teasingly out of reach.

I feel like running through old streets like George Bailey reunited with old haunts that feel refreshingly new. My own unexpected Christmas miracle.

No Man Of Her Own (1950)

2010-12-04T12:50:00.010-05:00

There's something about the first winter chill and black and white celluloid slush that crackles like firewood. As I've been putting off turning on the heat in my apartment for as long as possible it was nice to warm my hands a bit with No Man Of Her Own (1950), a film I've been dying to see as a card carrying Stanwyckphile. Bless you, Netflix, for making it available on instant.

For those experiencing deja vu the feeling is justified, as the film takes its name but none of its plot from a 1932 version starring the then indifferent at best platonic Clark Gable and Carole Lombard.

Image Credits here and here

This later version stars Barbara Stanwyck (Helen Ferguson/Patrice Harkness) as a woman spurned by her lover and left penniless and pregnant. His 'parting gift' to her? A $5 bill and a train ticket. Classy. On the train she is shown real kindess by a young married couple who die when the train crashes as abruptly as the transition in this sentence. In a twist of fate Stanwyck is taken to the hospital wearing the young woman's wedding ring (because cold cream and wedding rings don't mix) and it is assumed that she is the young bride. As the family has never met her (living abroad cures so many ills) or seen her (apparently photographs hadn't been invented by 1950) she goes along with the charade to give her child a name, choosing to live a lie despite guilt over the complete kindness and trust of her new family. But for Helen there is no escaping the past.

This film marks the second time Mitchell Liesen had to direct Stanwyck as a woman with a past (the first being Remember the Night) the latter mixing sparse Christmas cheer with melodrama and murder.

Stanwcyk and holiday cheer in Chrstimas in Connecticut vs. a despairing Stanwyck in No Man of Her Own

The great performances are given guidance by a fantastic script. Its basis in a novel "I Married a Dead Man" is probably where the film gets its overuse of voiceover in the beginning and end of the film, but more important is its attention to character details. A shot of the deadbeat boyfriend deciding against giving Stanwyck more than a $5 bill out of his wallet, then an inconsolable Stanwyck leaving the money on the floor says a thousand words. It is also a compelling film because of its genre mixing. What starts as straight melodrama turns to who-done-it with aspects of the plot that seemed small paying off till the very end in unexpected ways. While some of the turns are a bit unbelievable critiquing a melodrama for its realism is like asking how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood so I'll let those plot points pass.

Definitely recommended for a cold winters night.

wag of the finger: an open letter to the minds behind Glee from a classic film fan

2010-11-30T16:30:00.003-05:00

Glee is a shark or jet battle cry with little of Bernstein's lyricism. At its best it is fun spectacle that has the ability to bring old standards to newer, younger audiences with a cast that includes several legitimate stage performers who really don't need the auto-tune. At its worst it is cloying, stereotypical and simplistic. I recognize that in writing this post I must admit to the sin of watching the show. I enjoy it as a former show choir kid with a tooth for nostalgia and appreciation of its premise. I also recognize that maybe I'm asking too much from a teen tv show. But in the past few weeks the show has tried to take hold of larger issues. Therefore all I'm asking, creators of Glee, is that you choose not to be hypocrites.

Last weeks episode used Singin' in the Rain as its musical theme. This I don't have a problem with. I don't mind revisions of old material because it's something that has always been done whether literature, film, or in what show choirs around the country have done well before Glee. In high school I was in a community production of Singin' in the Rain which served as my introduction to what is now one of my favorite films. This is not to say that I don't criticize quality if it isn't up to snuff. While I really didn't like Glee's rendition of the song the way they staged it by having them perform not in a flooded street but on a flooded high school auditorium stage was actually pretty spectacular. Watch here.

It is the mentality behind the scenes leading up to this number that I take issue with.

Will, the teacher who runs the show choir, tells the kids that he wants to do a number from the show. You know, that movie from 1952. Oh, you didn't know there was a 1952? You thought the world only started spinning around 1980? Well you're all clearly disgusted that I would even think of doing something so old. Right. I see. Well then we'll just have to modernize it! Yeah, that's clearly the only way to make it cool!

Hold. The phone.

For starters, the fact that there are several self professed stage and screen nerd characters on the show makes it highly unlikely that none of them would have heard of it. Such a reaction is not true to the characters and in poor writing form.

Second, taking one of the most beloved musicals of all time and making it seem like no one under a certain age could ever like something that old and appreciate it by itself is wrong, creators of Glee. You are so, so wrong.

I thought Glee was supposed to be a show about the underdog. About kids who don't quite fit in standing up for themselves and doing things that make them happy. And for some of us, this includes watching old movies.

I detest ageism in any form. I think it's wrong for the old to try to stifle the young, which is something that the show has tried to tackle in its celebration of the 'new.' But this neglects the fact that there can still be value in and appreciation of the old by the young. It not only neglects it, the show attacks it.

I am no longer a kid and was lucky enough in high school to have friends who were willing to humor my classic film obsession. But I know it can be a potentially alienating thing, and especially hard when you're trying to fit in. I think it's great that there is a classic film community on the internet but I become all too aware of how odd I am when I move out of my own circles.

I'm sorry to go all PSA, especially without cheesy 80s music or a young George Clooney, but Glee you've made it necessary for me to try to do your job for you. So to anyone reading this who might benefit from it all I have to say is whether you love Conrad Veidt or listening to the Andrews Sisters be loud and proud. Do what you love, and don't listen to anyone who tries to make you feel 'uncool' or weird, whether it be disregarding Glee or disregarding everything I've just said.

Underdogs up, up and away.

two roads diverged in a wood

2010-10-10T15:40:00.011-04:00

Just wanted to pop my head in briefly. Sadly I just don't have the time to update right now (not that the world is missing much). It's a pretty big time for me as I'm preparing to jump off the ledge and graduate into the abyss of uncertainty known as "the real world" though I've always questioned the term. The reel world may be more appropriate. Aside from schoolwork I've been editing locally for twelve hours a week which is great practice, yet I'm growing less and less sure of my ability to do... anything. My advanced seminar in film studies makes me increasingly sad that if I continue along this path I may never really be able to do anything with my love of the history and theory of the subject and I feel increasingly naive the more I try to convince myself that it's possible to do both. I hope I'm wrong and refuse to go down without a fight.

tip of the hat: multi-talented talented people

2010-08-24T21:23:00.011-04:00

It's always fun to find out someone famous has another equally admirable talent; Frank Sinatra and his painting, Judy Garland and her poetry, and, new to me, Yul Brynner and his photography.

"The day I came onto the set, he was sitting up on top of a ladder and to my surprise, when he saw me, he called down: 'Hey Bob, the exposure is 5.6/125."

-Bob Willoughby, photographer

I recently added Yul Brynner: Photographer, compiled by daughter Victoria Brynner to my beloved collection of photography books. I actually have two copies, the first refunded because at least eight pages had been ripped out of it. It was a strangely personal loss.

While best known for his role as the King in The King and I, what is less known are the many photographs he took around that set and others, at bullfights, in refugee camps. It was not just a hobby for him but a true art. I would highly recommend this book, and am excited for VB's newest collection of his photographs set to come out next month. I'm not quite as excited about the supposed $150 price tag but I'm sure it will be beautiful. I'll be saving my pennies for quite awhile.

All images scanned by me, click to enlarge. No copyright infringement intended.

Ingrid Bergman, 1958

Refugee camp Muascar, Jerusalem, 1959

Deborah Kerr doing hair color selection tests for The King and I, 1955

Cecil B. DeMille feeding deer, 1955

Even if you think Moses should have been a fool, I pity the fool who doesn't appreciate these pictures. (Too much? ... Yes, too much? Right then.)

In which I devise an evil evil not so secret because I'm telling you right now plan

2010-08-10T15:39:00.009-04:00

When I was in middle school I was determined to become a child star on Friends. My plan? Be the problem teenager that Monica and Chandler would adopt because they couldn't have children. I still believe that the writers stole my thoughts and tweaked them to their own liking.

And this is why I have no doubt that my new evil evil not so secret because I'm telling you right now plan will come off brilliantly.

My newest goal?

Write a challenging role for Maggie Smith.

According to the Dame herself, she accepts practically everything offered her, and word on the street is that the poor girl (or should I say gehl?) is no longer being offered plum parts, as is the tragedy of many an aging actor or actress and sadly not surprising. It's pathetic when one of the most talented women around has to play background to Emma Watson.

Therefore, it seems only logical that if I were to write said script, it is practically inevitable that I would be able to work with said talented lady.

So, without further ado, here are the steps that I've devised to reach my goal:

Start writing a script with a fantastic part that could be played by Maggie Smith
Upon realization that I am not talented enough to write a script worthwhile of Maggie Smith, begin building time machine.
Upon building time machine, find Noel Coward.
Upon finding Noel Coward, steal his brain.
Travel back to the present with said brain, write script, work with Maggie Smith
Live happily ever after

Simple, yes?

my humphrey bogart stumbling into a bookshop moment

2010-07-25T15:08:00.006-04:00

I've been trying not to stray down memory lane quite as often, lest I get lost there, but this posting by Kendra reminded me of the rather wonderful, rainy afternoon I spent in this very same shop on her recommendation.

It's the sort of place that's disappearing, sadly. Small and rather cramped, but lived in and comfortable in its own way, filled with books and playbills and postcards and other theatrical ephemera that aren't really shelved by category and certainly not scanned. It all seems to tower over you, like Alice having lost her sense of proportion.

I sat in a corner looking through shoe boxes labeled Laurence Olivier and Alec Guinness, eventually striking up a conversation with the proprietor, one of those older gentlemen who also seem to be disappearing. He told me about various theatrical scandals of times gone by that I wish I remembered, how Kevin Spacey, then starring in Inherit The Wind at the Old Vic (which I was lucky enough to attend), would visit as an avid collector of Olivier memorabilia, how John Gielgud and Guinness would drop by looking for a certain book or piece of information in their time. We spoke quite a bit about Olivier and Vivien Leigh (at one point 'sharing digs' with the actor who played Stanley to her Blanche in the stage production), he having seen them both on stage and greatly admiring Olivier especially.

I asked him about different performers to determine if he had any items pertaining to said person, which led to some interesting recollections

At one point I asked about Deborah Kerr, whom he saw in The Corn is Green. He said she was 'all over the place' and 'went dry' every night. One of his friends in the production claimed that she was a gracious and wonderful lady, but he often had to prompt her with a well placed don't you agree? or other suggestive remark.

"But I can see you're a fan, so I'll stop. It happens to all actors."

"What about Olivier?"

"Never," he said. "Never."

Though I cannot replicate his very British and very eloquent use of the English language, the swiftness of and assurance in that last remark I will never forget.

In this War of the Roses I find myself bleeding red and white

2010-07-15T19:15:00.012-04:00

INT. FILM SCHOOL POLICE HEADQUARTERS - DAY

It's mid July in the early hours of the morning, the time of day when the hot hot temperatures cool and crime simmers on the back burner.

A mousy brunette is dragged through the double doors, her heels swishing back and forth across the tile like a figure skater who knows she's on thin ice.

SARG

What's she done, Joe?

JOE THE FILM SCHOOL POLICE OFFICER

It's another one of them classic film lovers, sir. Caught her watching Dark Passage.

SARG

Book her.

When I write my personal statement for film school, I have been advised to focus on the work I've produced, what I hope to accomplish creatively, rather than my more prevalent film studies background.

This makes sense.

What doesn't make sense to me, and what never will, is the undercurrent, this bitter rivalry that exists between those who do, and those who talk about what others do, and why there is such caustic, Joan Fontaine and Olivia De Havilland style rivalry between two of the same blood.

And because I hope to never understand this and would rather be stupid and naive about something I believe in so passionately, I've made a decision. Certainly I will focus on those things, but should it be applicable (say, if I'm asked to name influences) I refuse to hide this love of film, all film, young and old, and the fact that I want to play a part in the creation of new work and help to protect and promote what's past if it is in my capacity to do so.

I would love to get accepted into a great school but refuse to be ashamed of this. No matter what the keepers at the gates would like me to say, however accomplished and respectable they might be. I have some big guns to fight with. Scorsese, Truffaut, Woody Allen, The Coen Brothers, Thelma Schoonmaker and many others.

So to borrow from Farragut and The More The Merrier, damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead.

tip of the hat: stars can be fans too

2010-07-10T14:40:00.006-04:00

Deborah Kerr and husband Peter Viertel

Hello, my name is Meredith and I am a Deborah Kerr addict. In the past year she has become one of my absolute favorite people, and considering she's on Cary Grant's list of about 10 fascinating women he would invite to a dinner party she must have been a pretty classy lady. Her biography definitely doesn't delve into anything salacious (I raised as inquisitive an eyebrow as I could muster when there was nary a reference to her relationship with Michael Powell) but considering the author knew her professionally and personally I have respect for his respect and admiration for her, as well as the fact that it was published in the 70s so she was still out and about being fabulous.

One thing that I find incredibly refreshing about her is how sincerely she seemed to appreciate her fans. She tried to answer as many as she could, noting that "It's the least I can do, if anyone is kind enough to write." On occasion she became one herself, and didn't think it was beneath her stature to gush.

“Jan.9th
My dear Marlon [Brando],
Last night I saw Sayonara, and, at the risk of sounding and appearing insincere in the community of perpetual ‘note-dropping’ — I felt absolutely compelled to express my admiration and gratitude for your really exquisite performance. Exquisite may sound, I suppose, an ill-chosen word to apply to an actor, but it was just that. I can think of no other word that expresses the refinement — the myriad thoughts illuminating the scenes — long before the words were spoken. It was a performance of such skill. And which, for another of the same trade to watch, was an unbelievable enjoyment!
Thank you again — and forgive my ‘fan’ letter! …
Most sincerely, Deborah Kerr”

She even joined a fan club! Sort of.

In April, Mary Johnston visited the studio and suggested Deborah Kerr might like to become an honorary member of the Judy Garland club, having heard her express great admiration for the talented Judy, with whom she had become friendly during the days at Metro. She was delighted to do so and her then secretary, Mrs Myrtle Tully, wrote to confirm Deborah's acceptance of the honorary membership, which she has retained ever since, with permament billing in the Garland Club magazine, run by film and theatre buff Ken Sephton.

From Deborah Kerr by Eric Braun

Just goes to show, cliche as it sounds, that stars are people too, and I tip my favorite invisible hat to Ms. Kerr for being a lesson straight out of Funny Face on how to be lovely.

with liberty and film viewing freedom for all

2010-07-04T16:38:00.007-04:00

For Americans, Independence Day is a celebration of our many freedoms, with liberty and unlimited amounts of grilled food for all. It produces both feelings of pride and, for some, a platform to discuss what we can do better, and where we have failed. It's two parts "God Bless America," one part Will Durant.

In this holiday, and in the classic community, there's something of a yearning for the past, for the 'good old days,' a pang of regret at Frank Sinatra's assertion [in relation to this fred astaire/eleanor powell dance number] that we'll never see the likes of this again.

And though I do believe that things go in cycles, and we may see things like it again, he's absolutely right.

So where's the silver lining? I was reminded of this by something Kendra posted on her tumblr earlier in relation to the blight that is the Twilight franchise. Sorry those that like it, I just... don't get it. I've been invited out to two of the three films and I don't regret the time, I regret my contribution to their box office. I love the atmosphere of a big theater, but not when I'm paying $12 for a film that should be paying damages for brain cell loss.

Instead of being forced to watch this headache for a film fix, we now have the option to get a netflix account or go to a local movie store (or a library, even) where we have a host of incredible films, past and present, at the tips of our slimy green monster claws. I couldn't bring myself to say 'tip of our fingertips,' so, this works, right?

Even though I sometimes get a bit sad about the fact that many of the people I most admire are no longer walking around this topsy turvy earth, and there are certain values in life and in films that I find lacking in todays crop (though for me there's also a lot of greatness, as well), we have some truly incredible advantages in our access to film from all time periods and countries (well, except for lost films. sorry silent fans!) We don't have to wait for them to be re-released, or as my father had to contend with growing up in the middle of nowhere midwest, having to wait several years for a film to come to town because the local theatre owners were too cheap to pay money for first run films.

I suppose it could be argued that this practically unlimited, anytime anywhere access sort of cheapens the magic of it all (I'd be really interested in hearing some opinions on this) but much like independence day, with the positives and negatives that are brought up, it is nonetheless something to be celebrated.

Note: The picture accompanying this post really has absolutely nothing to do with independence day considering it's Gregory Peck and Deborah Kerr going on a ridiculous day trip to Tijuana (if you're not sold on Beloved Infidel yet, I pity the fool) but it seemed festive and it's also one of the most ridiculous[ly amazing] scenes I've ever seen for pure randomosity. And that is also something to be celebrated.

the time has come, the walrus said

2010-06-29T20:21:00.004-04:00

... to talk of why I have done such a poor job of updating this blog! I have no fancy schmancy excuses and it's not like I'm planning on winning a pulitzer for my content as it is. I've been doing some work for my family, reading war and peace, and trying to fill in some of the holes in my film viewing which I need to write about but judging from many of my past entries I'm just so much better at talking about what I'm planning on writing about then actually writing it. I see your potential nods at my mediocrity, and raise you....

David Niven riding a donkey and holding a parasol, which beats scissors, rock, and paper respectively.

This nonsensical update was brought to you by lux, the beauty soap which will wash away all second hand embarrassment at my inability to produce a quality post.

come on get happy-it's judy garland's birthday!

2010-06-10T17:19:00.004-04:00

It's rather sad to think that she could still be here doing single ladies duets with Liza, but there is more to this talented lady than the tragedies of her life and I think this should be celebrated. So here's to you, amorous glamorous lady. I wonder if there is a Freed unit table at the commissary up in the sky.

Judy Garland was known for her incredible vocal abilities, but I wanted to take a moment to highlight another hidden talent of hers that is less well known. Poetry. The Judy Room has a great page of her poems that everyone should check out.

I leave you with this bit of silliness.

tip of the hat: some things haven't changed since 1944

2010-06-06T13:25:00.005-04:00

I'm generally not one for Carvel unless it has sprinkles and a cherry on top, but yesterday morning I decided to take advantage of my limited access to tcm and watch Andy Hardy's Blonde Trouble, a later installment in the Andy Hardy series where Mickey Rooney leaves his beloved home and joins the leagues of "frosh's" at his father's alma matter. Aside from the fact that the logline sounds more in league with Dude, Where's My Car? or those TWINS TWINS TWINS beer ads (from tcm: a college boy has to cope with a pair of beautiful twins) the focus on the life of a freshman in college struck a chord of nostalgia. Alright, so the guys no longer wear suits to class and Herbert Marshall isn't my dean, but the excitement about a new stage of life, the how to survive your first year handbooks, it's still there. And as I look towards my last year at college it was nice to remember and relate to something that's still relevant over 60 years later.

back from outer space

2010-06-02T22:11:00.006-04:00

Bonjour lovely friends! I have returned from my May travels and hope to get back into the swing of things soon, starting with my whiz bang out of the park super duper paratrooper biggest Sound of Music post ever recorded in the history of the world post. There may be casualties, namely my eyesight. Until then I wanted to share a picture that you all might enjoy of The Dancing House in Prague. It was completed in 1996 and resembles two figures, well, dancing, (aha! lucky guess!) and was originally called Fred and Ginger. I imagine you can guess which I like better. ;)

@voteforgracie.blogspot.com

so long, farewell, auf weidersehen goodnight for two weeks!

2010-05-12T00:06:00.008-04:00

Hello lovely followers! Just dropping by as I have been out of town for the past week (and finally made it out to mission dolores in san francisco for all the vertigo super fans like myself) and will hopefully be leaving tomorrow night (assuming the ejklajkl volcano, clearly a jan brady attention whore of a phenomenon throwing a football at the nose of... the world, stops acting up) for germany and other wonderful places for two weeks, including salzburg where I plan to get my sound of music on and enjoy all the other lovely non-som things I'm sure it has to offer, as well as write more incredibly long run on sentences.

Farewell until June!

Kate and Millie's survey

2010-04-30T16:00:00.003-04:00

Finals are FINALLY over, I've been transported back home (not by my handy dandy teleportation device, unfortunately, rather a long process more akin to a marx brothers sketch entitled 'how much stuff can we fit in our car', more glamorous on screen I must say) and I'm ready for something fun to christen summer vacation and break free from my zombie like stupor. And what better than a survey put together by the rather mischievous and highly entertaining duo Kate and Millie? Nothing, clearly.

1. Which actors do you always (or did you always) mix-up? As a child I always mixed up Natasha Richardson and Emma Thompson. Now I occasionally see a picture of Hedy Lamarr and for a split second think it's Vivien Leigh. Hmm.

2. Gidget or Beach Party? I honestly don't know what this question is asking (eep!) so I'm going to go with ticker tape parade. It's the only logical choice.

3. Favorite Movie Outfit? The overall costume concept in the Ascot Opening Day sequence in My Fair Lady. If the new remake really gets made the new design can never compare to Cecil Beaton's brilliance. I'm holding my tongue on this one because I trust Emma Thompson. Don't let me down dear lady.

4. If you could be ANY character in ANY movie...who would you choose? Any role played by Eve Arden.

5. If you could marry ANY character in ANY movie...who would you choose? I love him because he's the kind of guy who gets drunk on a glass of buttermilk, and I love the way he blushes right up over his ears. I love him because he doesn't know how to kiss, the jerk! Prof. Bertram Potts in Ball of Fire (note: must be played by Gary Cooper. Ahem.)

6. If you could live in ANY movie...which would you choose? You Can't Take it With You. What a wonderful life that would be.

7. Black & White movies you wish were in Technicolor, or vice-versa? I think The Night of the Iguana would have been lovely in color.

8. Favorite Movie Soundtrack? An American in Paris (poke me with pins why don'tcha! I love too many)

9. Favorite Movie Dance Sequence?
I have many that change constantly, and though I would generally say either Dancing in the Dark or the Girl Hunt Ballet in The Band Wagon, I am currently enamored with Marian the Librarian in The Music Man. I love the choreography, the way actions are made part of the score, and how the different characters are developed throughout. It looked like such fun to film!

10. Coolest Movie Star? (Cough, cough, BOBBY DARIN, cough, cough -Millie) Sorry Millie, but my vote has to go the king of cool Humphrey Bogart.

11. Sophia or Gina (Oh, how Kate enjoys replaying Gina's sad defeat OVER AND OVER! -Millie) I am not well enough informed! Therefore I say John Glenn, because yet again it's the only logical choice.

12. "Isn't It Romantic" in most Billy Wilder films, or "Red River Valley" Billy Wilder always and forever

13. If you could re-cast ANY role in ANY movie, what would it be? Oh me oh my. I'm inclined to say Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady in favor of Julie Andrews, lack of as yet to be proven star power be damned.

14. Favorite movie character with your first name? All the Meredith's that I know of are either whiny doctors on Greys Anatomy or the temptress in the parent trap remake, and I'm inclined to choose the latter.

15.One movie that should NEVER be remade? (under THE THREAT OF A SLOW, PAINFUL DEATH!) Gone With the Wind. Just don't even try, you will fail.

16. Actor or Actress who you would love to be best friends with? I would have loved to have been part of the Gracie Allen/George Burns/Jack Benny crowd. Also Deborah Kerr.

17. Are you an Oscar or a Felix? Felix!

18. Actor/Actress you originally hated and now love? Also Deborah Kerr. As explained here.

19.Actor/Actress you originally loved and now don't like? None to speak of.

20. Favorite performance that was looked over by Oscar? (Not to be confused with the aforementioned Oscar of Felix fame.) Judy Garland in A Star is Born. Incredible performance.

21. Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie? Bewitched! Agnes Moorehead cannot be beat.

22. Hannibal Heyes or Kid Curry? (Hint for those who don't know who they are: pick Hannibal Heyes.) Ok I'll pick Hannibal Heyes ;)

23. Favorite Style Icon: Fred Astaire or Cary Grant? Well I love Grant's mentality of not letting the clothes wear the man, but Fred had those adorable belts. I'll say Cary but only by a hair.

24. Single most favorite movie scene EVER? MY BRAIN IS EXPLODING RIGHT NOW. I'm inclined to say the scene at the end of Perfect Strangers (1945) when Deborah Kerr and Ronald Donat see each other again for the first time in their improved state after several years with him away at war, including the lead up to it (it's during a blackout so they can't see each other, it's brilliant). The middle section of the film is dull as tombs but it's just such a perfect sequence.

25. Movie you really "should" see, but have subconsciously avoiding for who knows what reason? The Shining because it looks terrifying!

26. Movie quote you find yourself most often repeating in real life? I can't recall what film it's from, but I often say 'Oh for the love of heaven' Katharine Hepburn style.

27. 50's Westerns or 60's Spies? (I can't even answer this myself...but you have to! MWAHAHAHA! - Millie) 50s westerns for me though this is an EVIL EVIL question.

28. Favorite splashy, colorful, obnoxious 50's musical? Not obnoxious, but Singin' in the Rain is the ultimate.

29. Favorite film setting (example: Rome, Paris, Seattle, Siberia, Chile, Sahara Desert, etc) All of these are pretty wonderful. I'll say Rome.

30. If you could own the entire wardrobe of any film, which would it be? Not a great film but Helen Mirren's costumes in The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone are GLORIOUS.

31. Carol Burnette or Lucille Ball? Lucille! Though both are wonderful.

32. Favorite Voice. Ever. Period? Greer Garson. It's just so wonderful and bizarre at the same time.

33. Favorite movie that takes place in your home-state? My state generally doesn't get spotlighted in film, so I'll pick my almost home and say The More The Merrier.

34. Which actors would you want for relatives? (Mother, Father, Grandma, Crazy Aunt, annoying cousin, older brother, etc...) Ha! I'll say Debbie Reynolds as my grandmother, Fred Astaire as grandfather, Cary Grant as father, Deborah Kerr as mother (we would have a gilmore girls things going on, clearly) David Niven as my older brother, Hayley Mills as my younger sister, Katharine Hepburn and Angela Lansbury as my aunts and Humphrey Bogart for an uncle. Quite a family.

a grave error

2010-04-19T16:37:00.004-04:00

There is something I must make the world aware of, a great travesty undertaken whilst we slumbered, serene in our ignorance.

The evidence:

But we all know there is only one Gable.

I plan to contact the proper authorities post-haste. God save our gracious King, long may he reign as the supreme definition in the dictionary that cometh with thine apple computer.

The End of the Yellow Brick Road, and What I Found There

2010-04-10T14:16:00.010-04:00

photograph taken from life goes to the movies

I am a shadow chaser with ear pressed to the ground, hoping to catch some faint footstep of the past. I am Nora Charles peering around the corner of the Myrna Loy building, led by an invisible Asta. I stumble over the ghosts that drift up from the seamless concrete, my hands full of stories that tumble to the ground and fall without sound. No one sees them, it’s like they were never here. And to the executives at Columbia, they never were.

I know right from the intro video that something is wrong. As I listen to the story of Harry Cohn, watch short silent montages of It Happened One Night and Mr. Smith Goes To Washington, hear the name Mayer mentioned once before it is slipped into a back pocket, I know their game. The winners rewrite the history and chain themselves to their bottom line, dogs behind a wire fence.

We are led to the old Irving Thalberg building, past the old offices right by the gate, the gate that had once roared its name, MGM, and the cool white building where the big white elevated desk once towered over hopes and dreams, teeth gleaming. Never more. We are led down the old main streets with new names like the Frank Capra bank, which I know Jean Arthur did not run past when she supposedly screamed I’m free, I’m free. We are led to a Foley studio, full of bottles and keys and fake grass and rugs and I finally know something lives here, something breathes here that recognizes it is a fake.

We see the old bungalows where Katharine Hepburn would throw rooftop parties, we stand in the vast cavern of stage 15 where the yellow brick road once stood, past stucco walls where Gene Kelly danced around a lamp post and an afraid of heights Red Skelton was supposedly forgotten in the rafters, a dummy thrown off the side as revenge. Sometimes I have to pull teeth for this information, and sometimes it is waved away with the flick of a wrist stamped by Columbia.

Something was here, I know it was, and I’ll yell it from the top of stage 6 till my face turns blue. The Columbia Cagneys’ll not tie me down; the faceless giants who poke fat fingers in my face. This is how it’s going to be, see? Nyah, nyah.

Shaded by trees, connected by paths, and surrounded by flowering shrubs, the bungalow dressing rooms of the stars gave an outward impression of an enclave of peace and tranquillity, but inside, as I was to learn, their walls bore the scars of countless exhibitions of temperament, noisy moments of triumph, and far too many lonely heartbreaks. I was also to learn that writers got drunk, actors became paranoid, actresses pregnant, and directors uncontrollable. Crises were a way of life in the Dream Factories, but by some extraordinary mixture of efficiency, compromising, exuberance,gambling, shrewdness, experience, strong-arm tactics, psychology, blackmail, kindness, integrity, good luck, and a firm belief that "the show must go on," the pictures came rolling off the end of the production lines. -David Niven

Something lived here, once. I know it. I just know it.

and SNAP. the job's a game!

2010-03-29T19:55:00.002-04:00

Due to the upcoming GRE this saturday aft and my reliance on disney films to solve all problems, I've taken to doing anything I can to weather the immense quantities of vocabulary words I don't know as well as I thought I did and math I haven't seen since high school by creating childish tricks to keep such information in my wee brain and maintain a phlegmatic countenance. Didn't know that meant something other than, ahem, a rather unladylike disturbance in the throat? I didn't either chum. My handy dandy vocab cards indicate that I should create unusual sentences to keep this weighty assemblage of words in my head. So what do I do? Use classic film, of course!

For example:

Mr. Potter, a rather avaricious and reprobate sort of fellow, as well as a virulent force in Bedford Falls, chooses to take unfair advantage of the impecunious George Bailey, choosing to prevaricate to maintain power rather than enervate his position in the community. Rather than disabuse the situation, we last see him awaiting the exigent incarceration of George.

Works like a charm.

adventures in hollywoodland 2010

2010-03-20T14:20:00.002-04:00

Rather than pawing at a beach ball and drunkenly stumbling along sandy shores as the stereotypical collegiate spring break entails, I chose to enter a time warp of my own design with one of my good friends as Co el capitan. One of our stops? Musso and Frank's grill, serving your favorite stars since 1919. Honestly I don't think the place has changed much since 1919.

We met up with the super snazzy Kendra of vivandlarry.com who I've known about the internet for eons it seems so it was lovely to meet you! It's always fun when two Vivien Leigh fans plus one admirer who doesn't know as much as the other two *cough* get together. Our waiter was Sergio, who has been a fixture of the establishment since the 1970s and served practically anyone and everyone who was still in town and not at Forest Lawn.

The other characters of our story are entertaining bar patron and wife. I couldn't decide what drink I wanted because I really don't drink often (how very un-Nora Charles of me) and entertaining bar patron suggests I get a Mary Pickford, an off the menu cocktail which sounded perfect for our surroundings, and was also delicious (maraschino, grenadine, pineapple juice, and rum should you care to know). Another thing I love about M&F's is that they didn't card me. I'm legal and all but the majority of the world seems to think I'm not a day over 14. Maybe they assume anyone who dines there has an 85 year old soul, I'm not sure. After thanking entertaining bar patron, he says "you know who that is, don't you?"

Oh ho ho you have no idea what table you're messing with, sir.

We quickly proved that we did in fact know who she is, and much more, and if I'd thought of it I would've said that I'm more of a Lillian Gish girl myself. Well done, angels.

Now back to Sergio. As someone who has served there for ages, of course we had to grill him. Apparently of the newer set Johnny Depp is one of his chums and gives a 5000% tip. But of course being us we also wanted to know about those of days gone by, and being me I only wanted to know who was the nicest and prettiest of them all.

The super nice?

Naturally.

The super gorgeous and super gracious?

No surprises here.

At one point I was sent a free drink for some reason (who questions such things) so there may have been a bit of the collegiate stumbling but in a prohibition era way. I don't know what that means. ANYWAY I would definitely recommend visiting this place if you're in town. If those walls could talk...

quiet on the set-the quest pt 1

2010-03-07T14:35:00.007-05:00

One thing that I love to do is seek out famous film locations, wherever I may be. I just think it's fascinating to watch a film (especially the older ones) and then see where the magic happened. Especially if things look just the same. For me it creates a sort of continuity with the past which I find comforting and I thought it would be fun to share, especially because my brain is still a bit mushy after having it pulled out of my skull during midterms.

(sorry some of these caps are not the best)

First, a few of the on location spots I have visited:

Greyfriars Kirkyard-Edinburgh, Scotland

Film: The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Edinburgh is such a historical wonder and I have a Maggie Smith obsession to thank for my finding the kirkyard, one of my favorite spots in the city. Burials have been taking place here since the late 16th century and walking about it is like stepping into a time warp. The graveyard is most famous for the story of greyfriar's bobby, the loyal pup who was so saddened by his masters death that until his own he guarded the grave, and is now buried in the graveyard himself.

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com

If you look up towards the tree you will see the square tombstone and dark wall captured in the frame above. Hasn't changed at all.

Chester Terrace-London UK
Film: The End of the Affair (1955)

Located just off of Regents Park lies this beautiful neighborhood where Deborah Kerr and Van Johnson had their secret trystes. The entrances to both ends is a magnificent arch which unfortunately I couldn't document because there were residents standing outside and I felt a bit funny, but the neighborhood and it's archways are well documented in the film.

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com

A 180 from the above still, which would have been taken on the second floor above the blue door in the background

Cafe des 2 moulins-Montmartre, Paris, France
Film: Amelie

The cafe where everyone's favorite pixie worked. They rebuilt it as a set but the cafe it is based on is very real.

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com
Please excuse my awkward cone shaped head exacerbated by my awkward but very warm cap.

Christchurch College-Oxford, UK
Film: Harry Potter...s

The UK in general is sort of Harry Potter land and of course there is CGI and studio sets a plenty but the first couple of films did some on location filming at Christchurch, and even if the films aren't masterpieces I can say I've visited Hogwarts. The 12 year old and 21 year old in me is happy.

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com

Bodega Bay-California

Film: The Birds

One of the most iconic sequences in the film is when the kids run out of the schoolhouse towards the bay, only the real schoolhouse isn't by the bay! The complete run is composed of two different streets in the town.

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com

What the kids would've seen as they ran from the school

Studios:

Pinewood Studios-UK

Film: Tamara Drewe

Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of my own for this but last semester I got to be an extra in Stephen Frears' newest film for a day which was an interesting experience to say the least. Needless to say I was very excited to be where the likes of The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus and many other great films have been shot. I was supposed to be an attendee at a literary festival and they set up tarps very near to the beautiful path pictured above out in the beginnings of their exterior shrubbery garden things. On the way to lunch we got to walk through the above pictured building which I believe is the main office that has been there since the beginnings. To the right of this picture is a rather lovely part of the building where I could see an episode of Poirot or some 30s style upper class farce being filmed.

Warner Brothers Studios-Burbank, CA
Studio Tour

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com
I imagine this is pretty self explanatory. Too many films to name. This is the only picture I can find from this trip at the moment so here is the exterior of the Gilmore home for your viewing pleasure.

I hope everyone has a happy Oscar day! I am heading out to LA tomorrow to visit a friend for spring break and have already made plans to visit Sony studios, aka MGM. I'm sure other shenanigans will follow and if anyone has any suggestions I'm all ears!

Not Tuesdays With Martin Scorsese-The New Restoration of The Red Shoes

2010-02-14T21:04:00.009-05:00

Instead of worshipping cupid this Valentine's Day my heart has been pierced by the Archer Arrow as I spend a little time at the altar of Powell and Pressburger For the Love of Film: The Film Preservation Blogathon. The event is hosted by The Self-Styled Siren and Ferdy on Films to support the National Film Preservation Foundation.

The National Film Preservation Foundation is the independent, nonprofit organization created by the U.S. Congress to help save America's film heritage. They work directly with archives to rescue endangered films that will not survive without public support.

The NFPF will give away 4 DVD sets as thank-you gifts to blogathon donors chosen in a random drawing: Treasures III: Social Issues in American Film, 1900-1934 and Treasures IV: American Avant Garde Film, 1947-1986

One of my favorite films from super duo Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, The Red Shoes, has been lovingly (and expensively) restored by the UCLA Archive thanks to generous support from Martin Scorsese's Film Foundation. It received a star studded premier at last years Cannes Film Festival and was recently screened at the British Film Institute where I saw the new restoration this past December as my farewell to London. Unfortunately I was not able to attend the first night when Scorsese himself was in attendance. These screenings are wonderful because they bring new audiences to old classics.

The Rank gong is on display at the Movieum of London

©voteforgracie.blogspot.com

The original three-strip Technicolor negative, cracked, covered in mould and desperately in need of repair was restored using a new digital process where a high resolution scan of each of the 579, 000 frames was cleaned and reassembled in a new digital master (source). It is a very painstaking and expensive process that could only be undertaken because of the amount of support (aka funding) behind the restoration. For the film purists out there, original prints of the film still exist. The screening at Cannes was a 35mm print of the new digital restoration. I can attest that the result is absolutely breathtaking; the cobwebs have been removed, that's all.

The Red Shoes (1948) was first conceived as the brain child of Alexander Korda because he wanted P&P to make a ballet vehicle for his wife Merle Oberon. When that fell through the pair bought the rights from Korda. Wanting to make a film with dancers who had acting talent as opposed to actors who needed dancer stand ins, a member of the Sadler Wells dance company, flame haired Moira Shearer was chosen to play the beautiful ballerina Victoria Page. But Shearer was not easily convinced. In fact it took a year of convincing because Shearer deemed films a lesser art form. She finally acquiesed and filming began in 1947 at Pinewood Studios, on location in Monte Carlo and various other locales. The film had the added task of trying to make London's Covent Garden look beautiful and vibrant when things were still very bleak and war rationing was still in effect. The shoot itself was grueling.

An excerpt from Leonard Boucher's Red Shoes Diaries:

Wednesday 09 July 1947
Early to bed and early to rise - 5;30 am. to Pinewood Studios for 8am - 8:30 class. the earliest class on record! I was most pleased that massine recognized me and asked "How is your child?". "Very well," I replied "dancing all day long. "Mine too", said Massine. watch 3 scenes 'shot'. One took ten retakes - a rather difficult piece including Tcherina, Shearer, Joan Harris, Massine and Helpman. Moira Shearer is the nicest little thing I've seen since Baronava. Tcherina is beautiful and has good turns. Helpman is amusing. The word for his type of character is, I believe, in theatre terms, 'camp'. One sees him either very smartly dressed or ragged and rolling with jokes but I must say, always quite a good chap. Massine looks tired. it is rather a shock to find him an old man, but still a great character. If Shearer is used well she should develop into a 'Big Star'.

The film, based on a Hans Christina Andersen fairytale, is the story of a ballerina forced to choose between love of a man and love of her art. Unsatisfied with one or the other, she kills herself to break the spell of the shoes. Audiences were also unsatisfied with the films tragic and gory ending, but as has been pointed out it was really a lot less demonic than the original fairytale where the woman's feet are cut off and for the rest of her life she walks on wooden feet as the shoes dance on. In the film both dancer and dance shoes are laid to rest, making the focus not only the obsessive quality of artistic passion, but the ways that this obsession can alter and ultimately destroy a person's life. Unlike the original story, Victoria Page is ultimately unable to divide herself. It is the reality of many dancers caught in the balance between the intense dedication needed to succeed as a dancer and the struggle to maintain a personal life.

The most striking and most talked about portion of the film is the seventeen minute ballet sequence. It was unprecedented at the time and served as an inspiration for ballet sequences in An American in Paris and Singin' in the Rain. Unlike past musical numbers in Hollywood set up in a more theatrical space where the camera tends to sit back and relaxes like a viewer in a theatre, The Red Shoes sequence uses every filmic tool at its disposal to make the ballet a one of a kind experience. Though there are unique elements of framing and color, the transitions and manipulations of the film in post-production are what make it so unique. It is dreamlike rather than static, hallucinatory rather than stable.

The thing that I find most striking about the ballet is the fact that it is a move toward a more subjective cinema. It transitions from the dancing shoemaker, established underneath a proscenium arch in a traditional theater to sequences meant to take place in the mind of Victoria Page and in a few instances from her first person point of view, putting a probe into the mind of a ballerina and giving the audience an idea of how dancers must create a world for themselves to effectively convey their emotions to the audience. First person camera was still a rarity, the only example I can think of a brief sequence from the POV of Pip in David Lean's Great Expectations (1946). The shoes take over Page's body and she dances through many foreign landscapes, Shearer's soaring form superimposed on a series of matte paintings that clearly were not present on the stage. At certain points the film speed itself is slowed down to make the dancers seem like they are floating.

The sequence also makes use of the Soviet Montage style of editing, juxtaposing dancers with flowers, birds and clouds. Through a series of cross dissolves, dancers are shown to be delicate beings in a heightened state of beauty that surpasses human existence.

The other wonderful thing about being able to see this film at the BFI, other than the newly restored film itself, was the fact that Scorsese lent items from his personal collection for display at the South Bank Center. Included in the display were the original red shoes, signed by Shearer, (and as I remember) Anton Walbrook and Marius Goring, as well as original art sketches, letters, and a script from the early stages of development when Alexander Korda was still tied to the project. Unfortunately I did not have a camera with me so the details are a bit foggy, but there was a beautiful letter between Powell and Pressburger during their later years of life that expressed a deep love and lasting affection, the deep love Martin Scorsese has for the film, a deep love that I share.

Please Contribute To Film Preservation

Creative Blogger Award

2010-02-10T15:43:00.005-05:00

Thanks Harley for bestowing this awesome sauce award upon my blog. Or my person. I'm not really sure but it places me somewhere within six degrees of creativity which is exciting!

1. Copy the logo and paste it your blog. (Kate's a bad influence, b/c I'm not posting it either...and because neither of them posted it I don't even know what the logo is. So here's a fun picture from pbs.org no copyright infringement intended please don't burn down my house. Go give them money to make great programs ok? ok).

2. Link the person from whom you received this coveted prize.
3. List seven facts about yourself that people would find interesting.
4. Nominate 7 other bloggers and post links of the one you've nominated.
5. LET THEM KNOW AT ONCE ON THEIR BLOGS OR VIA TWITTER. THE CAPS ARE NECESSARY.

FACTS

1. I have considered becoming a nun. This may be more colored by my skewed belief that all nuns do is sing in the hills or pal around with their mother superior who just happens to be Maggie Smith. I also just really like the idea of a life devoted to service of God and man minus the fact that I don't agree with all the tenets of catholicism and wouldn't wish to try to convert anyone or damn those who don't follow my belief system to hell.

2. I am an only child and no I have never asked for a pink pony in my entire life (stupid, I know).

3. I'm kind of obsessed with old ocean liners and would love to take a cruise but know I would be disappointed because it's not the same. The same applies for old trains and train stations. Basically any film involving cruise ships, trains, train stations or the singing nuns outlined in point one will instantly hold a fascination for me purely because of these elements.

4. I really really love collecting photography and fashion photography coffee table books though the collection is building slowly because they can be so expensive even with the glory that is used on amazon. My favorites are Doisneau, Margaret Bourke White, Ansel Adams and Eisenstaedt.

5. I really love school and feel so privileged to be going to university. I've never ever skipped a class because 1) each class has cost some money so it's basically like throwing money into the air and 2) even the classes I haven't been crazy about I figure there is always a chance that I may learn something that astounds me. This may make me a capital L loser (or Laverne, were this L actually pinned to my clothing) but I really don't care.

6. I sometimes wonder what certain stars would do in certain situations or if I have to exude confidence for whatever reason will, for example, think of Meryl Streep. You know, like the terrible musical theatre version of Fame. Because I'm insane.

7. The stars I most identify with for one crazy reason or another are Jean Arthur, Greer Garson and Deborah Kerr. I feel them kindred spirits. Yet again because I am insane. I don't take astrology seriously but I find it interesting that we all happen to be libras. Note: Clearly I do not think myself as amazing as any of these people.

I use my immense creative powers to nominate Kendra, Juliette, Maggie, Lara & Emily, Richard, Elsie, and this glamorous person who has chosen to remain mysterious and glamorous and provides no name that I can find but is nonetheless marvelous

Cary Grant-a definition of a favorite actor

2010-02-06T15:05:00.000-05:00

A reporter in search of information wired Grant's agent: "HOW OLD CARY GRANT?" Grant happened to read the message himself, and wired back "OLD CARY GRANT FINE. HOW YOU?" (via imdb)

Cary Grant [arch-i-bald leach]

-noun

Entertainer
Actor
Icon

-verb

To want to be Cary Grant.
To just go gay all of a sudden.
To remind you of a man (what man?)

-adjective

"What one would hope a movie star would be like" - Elizabeth Taylor*
A man who wears a suit and doesn't let the suit wear him

*via "Evenings With Cary Grant"

Origin:

1904-1986

Synonyms:

1. Debonair 2. Witty 3. Individual 4. Introspective 5. Unsure 6. Matchmaker (see: Rosalind Russell)

new (to me) films watched in 2010

2010-02-01T20:07:00.041-05:00

Films Fatales

1. Everything is Illuminated (Liev Schrieber, 2005)

2. Brick (Rian Johnson, 2005)

3. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (Mike Nichols, 1966)

4. Amadeus (Milos Forman, 1984)

5. Ballerina (Bertrand Normand, 2009)

6. The Remains of the Day (James Ivory, 1993)

7. Widow's Peak (John Irvin, 1994)

8. Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, 1976)

9. Husbands and Wives (Woody Allen, 1992)

10. Etoiles: Dancers of the Paris Opera Ballet (Nils Tavernier, 2001)

11. Brazil (Terry Gilliam, 1985)

12. Laurence Olivier's Hamlet (Laurence Olivier, 1948)

13. Dil Se (Mani Ratnam, 1998)

14. Khuda Gawah (Makul Sharma, 1992)

15. Sant Tukaram (V. G. Damle and S. Fatelal, 1936)

16. Awara (Raj Kapoor, 1951)

17. A Foreign Affair (Billy Wilder, 1948)

18. Fame (Alan Parker, 1980)

19. The Heiress (William Wyler, 1949)

20. To Each His Own (Mitchell Leisen, 1946)

21. The Anniversary (Roy Ward Baker, 1968)

22. The Young Victoria (Jean-Marc Vallee, 2009)

23. "Hallmark Hall of Fame" Witness For The Prosecution (Alan Gibson, 1982)

24. Ann and Debbie (1985)

25. Prudence and the Pill (Fielder Cook & Ronald Neame, 1968)

26. Count Your Blessings (Jean Negulesco, 1959)

27. Thunder in the East (Charles Vidor, 1952)

28. The September Issue (R.J. Cutler, 2009)

29. An Education (Lone Scherfig, 2009)

30. In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950)

31. The Charge of the Light Brigade (Michael Curtiz, 1936)

32. Mother India (Mehboob Khan, 1957)

33. Om Shanti Om (Farah Khan, 2007)

34. Beloved Infidel (Henry King, 1959)

35. The Proud and the Profane (George Seaton, 1956)

36. This Is England (Shane Meadows, 2006)

37. Inglourious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino, 2009)

38. Herbert (Suman Mukhopadhyay, 2006)

39. The Name of a River (Anup Singh, 2001)

40. Sholay (Ramesh Sippy, 1975)

41. Deewar (Yash chopra, 1975)

42. Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (Karan Johar, 1998)

43. Satya (Ram Gopal Varma, 1997)

44. Garam Hawa (M.S. Sathyu, 1973)

45. Hey Ram (Kamal Haasan, 1999)

46. Pather Panchali (Satyajit Ray, 1955)

47. Aparajito (Satyajit Ray, 1956)

48. Apur Sansar (Satyajit Ray, 1959)

49. Hot Millions (Eric Till, 1968)

50. War Dance (Sean Fine & Andrea Nix, 2007)

51. The Snake Pit (Anatole Litvak, 1948)

52. North & South BBC Miniseries (2004)

53. Ralph Nader: An Unreasonable Man (Henriette Mantel & Steve Skrovan, 2006)

54. No End in Sight (Campbell Scott, 2007)

55. Forty Guns (Samuel Fuller, 1957)

56. Hot Enough For June (Ralph Thomas, 1964)

Thanks Kate Gabrielle!

57. Hot Fuzz (Edgar Wright, 2007)

58. The Magnificent Seven (John Sturges, 1960)

59. The People Speak (Anthony Arnove, Chris Moore, Howard Zinn, 2009)

60. Bonjour tristesse (Otto Preminger, 1958)

61. Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! (Dibakar Banerjee, 2008)

62. Bottle Shock (Randall Miller, 2008)

63. Casino Royal (Val Guest & Ken Hughes & John Huston & Joseph McGrath & Robert Parrish & Richard Talmadge (oh my!), 1967)

64. The Last Station (Michael Hoffman, 2009)

65. The Blind Side (John Lee Hancock, 2009)

66. Avatar (James Cameron, 2009)

67. The Princess and the Frog (Ron Clements & John Musker, 2009)

68. Separate Tables (Delbert Mann, 1958)

69. Man on Wire (James Marsh, 2008)

70. Hatter's Castle (Lance Comfort, 1942)

71. Wild Strawberries (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)

72. Up in the Air (Jason Reitman, 2009)

73. When in Rome (Mark Steven Johnson, 2010)

74. Rashomon (Akira Kurosawa, 1950)

75. Days of Heaven (Terrence Malick, 1978)

76. Helvetica (Gary Hustwit, 2007)

77. Following (Christopher Nolan, 1998)

78. The Grass Is Greener (Stanley Donen, 1960)

79. In Bruges (Martin McDonagh, 2008)

80. Leap Year (Anand Tucker, 2010)

81. Lost in Austen (2008)

82. Mad Hot Ballroom (Marilyn Agrelo, 2005)

83. How About You... (Anthony Byrne, 2007)

84. The Visitor (Thomas McCarthy, 2007)

85. Walk the Line (James Mangold, 2005)

86. The Seventh Seal (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)

87. Is Anybody There? (John Crowley, 2008)

88. Thelma & Louise (Ridley Scott, 1991)

89. I Am Love (Luca Guadagnino, 2009)

90. Dirty Dancing (Emile Ardolino, 1987)

91. Ladies in Lavender (Charles Dance, 2004)

92. The Pumpkin Eater (Jack Clayton, 1964)

93. The Front (Martin Ritt, 1976)

94. Moon (Duncan Jones, 2009)

95. The Greatest (Shana Feste, 2009)

96. The Departed (Martin Scorsese, 2006)

97. The Station Agent (Thomas McCarthy, 2003)

98. Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (Quentin Tarantino, 2003)

99. Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (Quentin Tarantino, 2004)

100. The Arrangement (Elia Kazan, 1969)

101. Stage Fright (Alfred Hitchcock, 1950)

102. The Importance of Being Earnest (Anthony Asquith, 1952)

103. Bright Star (Jane Campion, 2009)

104. The Last September (Deborah Warner, 1999)

105. Fast Times at Ridgemont High (Amy Heckerling, 1982)

106. Curtain Call (Peter Yates, 1997)

107. California Suite (Herbert Ross, 1978)

108. Peeping Tom (Michael Powell, 1960)

109. Shadow of a Doubt (Alfred Hitchcock, 1943)

110. Our Dancing Daughters (Harry Beaumont, 1928)

111. All That Heaven Allows (Douglas Sirk, 1955)

112. Videodrome (David Cronenberg, 1983)

113. eXistenZ (David Cronenberg, 1999)

114. Event Horizon (Paul W.S. Anderson, 1997)

115. Burn After Reading (Coen Brothers, 2008)

116. My Blueberry Nights (Wong Kar Wai, 2007)

117. Casino Royale (Martin Campbell, 2006)

118. Terms of Endearment (James L. Brooks, 1983)

119. Camera Buff (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1979)

120. The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill (Judy Irving, 2005)

121. Interview with the Vampire: The Vampire Chronicles (Neil Jordan, 1994)

122. Basic Instinct (Paul Verhoeven, 1992)

123. The King's Speech (Tom Hooper, 2010)

124. Black Swan (Darren Aronofsky, 2010)

124. True Grit (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2010)

125. The Secret Garden (Agnieszka Holland, 1993)

126. Easy A (Will Gluck, 2010)

127. Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003)

128. Kal Ho Naa Ho (Nikhil Advani, 2003)

129. The Reader (Stephen Daldry, 2008)

130. East of Eden (Elia Kazan, 1955)

131. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (George Roy Hill, 1969)

132. Outsourced (John Jeffcoat, 2006)

133. No Man of Her Own (Mitchell Leisen, 1950)

134. Iron Man (Jon Favreau, 2008)

135. Top Gun (Tony Scott, 1986)

136. Risky Business (Paul Brickman, 1983)

137. Precious (Lee Daniels, 2009)

138. Exit Through the Gift Shop (Banksy, 2010)

139. Adaptation (Spike Jonze, 2002)

rest in peace, lovely lady. rip jean simmons

2010-01-22T22:15:00.007-05:00

Jean Simmons

1929-2010

source: latimes.com

I was first drawn to Jean by her ethereal beauty in Black Narcissus, her poise in Great Expectations, and her brilliant acting in The Thorn Birds miniseries. She was a great talent and I hope her last moments were peaceful.

What Luise Rainier and Vivien Leigh have in common

2010-01-12T12:54:00.002-05:00

A Happy 100th Birthday (wow!) to lovely Luise Rainier, who wowed Oscar voters with her ability to cry and talk on the telephone at the same time in The Great Ziegfeld. From the looks of her at The Aviator premier she is doing well and I wish her continued health and happiness. Because of course she's going to be reading this.

Actually it's best that she doesn't because I am now going to admit that I kind of creeped on her a month ago. Because what do she and Vivien Leigh have in common?
A residence! Of course they lived in this posh flat in Belgravia at different times, but Luise passes by Vivien's blue plaque every time she comes and goes making them neighbors in a way. It's rather like Enchantment.

the coen brothers-new directors inspired by old films

2009-12-31T14:59:00.001-05:00

I have recently found myself in love with the Coen Brothers, a directing duo with an unmistakable and original style. What really endears me to some new filmmakers is their clear love of film and utilization of it in their work. As it is with Woody Allen, so it is with the Coen Brothers.

I recently watched The Hudsucker Proxy starring Tim Robbins, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Paul Newman, with appearances by Coen Brothers favorites John Mahoney, Steve Buscemi and John Goodman. It is the story of Norville Barnes (Tim Robbins), an every man who comes to New York City hoping to make it big as a businessman with a great idea for an invention which I won't reveal. The only thing I"ll say is "you know, for the kids." The President of Hudsucker Industries, a prominent NY business decides to jump out of a window leaving the board in a quandary. Their solution? Hire a complete idiot to run their company so that the stocks drop and they can buy everything back on the cheap, then make mega millions once he is removed. Fast talking dame and pulitzer prize winning newspaper woman Amy Archer (Jennifer Jason Leigh) connives her way into a job at Hudsucker to get the real scoop on Norville, portraying him as an absolute moron to the public. She discovers what is really going on behind the scenes at Hudsucker, but also discovers that she has fallen in love with Norville.

This film is more or less a conglomeration of practically every film Frank Capra ever made both in plot and in some of the shots. Norville is Gary Cooper and Jimmy Stewart in one package, while Amy Archer is Barbara Stanwyck meets Jean Arthur with some fast talking Rosalind Russell thrown in.

Norville's fall from grace versus...

Long John Willoughby's in Meet John Doe

Norville is pronounced insane versus...

The trial in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town

As a great fan of Frank Capra I had a lot of fun with this film. It isn't one of the Coen's best, nor does it beat the classics it references (Jennifer Jason Leigh has the speech patterns and movements of a fast talking 30s career dame down pat but lacks the inner fire smoldering beneath the tough exterior that Stanwyck and Arthur possessed) but this film is worth it for the revelation of Norville's invention and a fun way to pass the time.

things i've learned in the past five minutes about two very different kellys

2009-12-29T13:31:00.001-05:00

Gene Kelly wore a toupe???

There is footage of Grace Kelly in her casket??

In the immortal words of Stephanie on Full House, HOW RUDE. And more importantly how disrespectful. I hate coming across star in casket pictures or anyone famous really (Abraham Lincoln, anything in Hollywood Babylon) so if anyone knows which documentaries this footage appears in I would appreciate it so that I don't watch it. I'm not exactly Grace Kelly's biggest fan but this always makes me angry.

love affair original program (and happy holidays!)

2009-12-23T19:20:00.003-05:00

For me the world of online buying is still something exotic, a tangled web I don't care to get lost in. I've never bought anything off of ebay because I've always been too afraid that I'd become like one of those home shopping network addicts that starts compulsively buying until I have 5000 vintage magnets that I don't really need. As such I've never had many options in terms of buying memorabilia. One of the reasons that London is/was so wonderful is that I was able to actually go to bookstores and stalls that sold some wonderful old things where I could tangibly see the money pass from my hand to theirs and touch what you cannot touch on a website.

One of the wonderful things I bought is an edition of Cinegram, one of London's film magazines devoted to the 1939 film Love Affair starring Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer. It's kind of falling apart in my hands but I fell in love with it because I think the montage of images is just lovely and it also features a few write ups on its stars that are quite fun.

All images are clickable. Enjoy!

oh the weather outside is frightful

2009-12-19T11:10:00.000-05:00

The great thing about a blizzard is that it provides the perfect opportunity to snuggle under many layers of quilts, catch up on my movie watching and make a dent in the 300 tea bags I brought home from Britain. I even have some corn for popping.

It also gives me an excuse to post clips from White Christmas.

I would make a list of my favorite holiday films but they have all been aptly covered from Christmas classics such as It's A Wonderful Life, The Shop Around The Corner and White Christmas to lesser known gems Christmas in Connecticut, The Bishop's Wife, Christmas in July and Remember the Night. You kids keep me creative.

Though I have been absent from the bloggersphere, I have found other outlets for sharing my love of the old and too oft forgotten. Over the fall semester I worked for a company called Raindance Film which is devoted to assisting independent filmmakers and a demystification of the industry. They post a weekly newsletter with tips and tricks of the trade, including a few articles I have written on film casting, twitter tips, etc. My favorite section is called amnesia, a category devoted to forgotten films that deserve a second look. A love of all things old made me a perfect candidate to write such articles, and I have become their resident "amnesia expert" a title I wear very proudly. Here are a few of my pieces that may be of interest:

Frank Capra: The Original Indie Auteur

Amnesia: The Trouble With Harry

(/shameless promotion)

Fail of the day goes to the weather channel. In an attempt to link our current snowy state to the year 1922, the last time we have seen a storm of such magnitude, they painted this bygone era as a time before bubble gum, car radios and the year the jazz singer was released. I think we need a fact check on aisle 3.

a return to blogging!

2009-12-17T12:53:00.005-05:00

Hello lovely blogger friends! I have returned from my four month European adventure exhausted but far better for the experience.

For right now I leave you with this picture I took of Hitchcock's former flat at 153 Cromwell Road where he lived from 1926-1939. Though situated along a posh street in Kensington nestled between white columned elegance, the spirit of the former master of suspense still casts a special spell over the building. You can almost see Norman Bates' mother peeking through a window.

See the Hitchcock's at home here

foggy days in london town

2009-08-21T15:18:00.005-04:00

Dear Readers,

Amongst the packing and panicking I just wanted to let you all know that because I will be studying abroad for the fall semester, my hop across the pond being only a few days away, I will be on hiatus until December. I hope to still pop in from time to time (and potentially post a few things) but my ability to do so will be entirely unreliable as I will want to spend every second I can exploring my new surroundings. Once I return to the states I definitely want to continue blogging, so no I haven't deserted my little internet spec and I hope to find you all here and well when I return. :)

Also: Go participate in Millie's Hitchcock birthday bash! I'm sorry I wasn't able to.

I leave you with pictures of some seriously fierce british people.

dear mr. gable

2009-08-17T20:59:00.004-04:00

Aside from a desire to cook and an ever increasing love of all things Meryl Streep, the recently released Julie & Julia, the true story of the effect Julia Child has on a lowly office worker and writer from Queens, NY who decides to blog about her experiences cooking every recipe in Mastering The Art of French Cooking had a surprise message that I found just as comforting as strawberry shortcake. It is not only the story of Julie and Julia, but a story of anyone who has found inspiration in people that they have never met.

I've often felt a tinge of regret that I was never able to encounter or work with many of the people I most admire. One of the things I find so interesting about the film is the fact that Julie Powell does find out what Julia thinks of her and at first is devastated by the response. Julia Child read Julie's blog and was not impressed. In short, she thought she was disrespectful and not a true cook. This is touched on in the film and you can read Julie's recent response here. More than the story of these two women what I found most inspiring was the conclusion Julie comes to with the help of her husband. It does not matter if Julia Child did or did not understand what she was doing, all that mattered was the Julia Child that Julie had created for herself, and the Julia Child that completely changed her life.

In my heart of hearts I know that much as I wish it even if I were able to invent that blasted time machine I would not be the person I would wish and more than likely would not encounter those I most admire, especially as anything more than a girl in bobby socks behind a barricade. I know that Cary Grant will not have a seat reserved next to him at the bar in heaven between him and Deborah Kerr (and even if he did I would not be able to keep up with the Parkeresque repartee) and Myrna Loy is not observing my movements from some discreet cloud. And yet, in their exquisite shadow play these people have inexplicably altered the course of my life. These people that I never met and can never meet have touched and moulded as Julia Child shaped Julie Powell. And this is what is important.

(And it's probably best that Barbara Stanwyck isn't alive because I'm pretty sure if she knew I called her Babs she would hunt me down and brass knuckle me in the face.)

Cheers to the grand delusion.

Photograph taken by me at the Julia Child exhibit on display at the Smithsonian Institute.

i'm late for a very important (birthday) date!

2009-08-10T12:03:00.005-04:00

A Happy Birthday to Nicole at Classic Hollywood Nerd!

I hope you have a simply maahvelous day (said in my best Judy Garland voice. Which...isn't very good a'tall really. I'm not fluent in Bette Davis either so I'd better just give this up).