If you really love movies, the best place to see them is in a theater. But if you really love obscure movies, old movies, outright weird movies, you probably won’t find those playing at your local cinema - you’ll have to seek them out on video. This being the case, those people in the world who devote their time and energy to making the obscure and the outre available on video for all of us are vitally important, and should be greatly appreciated.

Mike Vraney, who founded Something Weird Video in Seattle, was one of those vitally important people. This makes his recent death (at age 56) something worth noting.

 

 

Over the past couple of decades, Something Weird has made a great deal of weird somethings available for the hardcore film fans of the world. The films they released on video covered numerous genres – from early drug scare films to 1950s “nudie cuties” to the groundbreaking gore flicks of Herschell Gordon Lewis and much, much more.

Beyond that, as a collector and cinema historian, Vraney also proved to be an invaluable resource to those researching and writing about the underground and back alley aspects of American cinematic history. A book that I just finished reading, Eric Schaefer’s Bold! Daring! Shocking! True! A History of Exploitation Films, 1919 – 1959, cites him as being a major source of original materials used to put the book together. In the acknowledgements, Schaefer also says, “I am also grateful for the efforts that Mike has made to find and preserve this unique slice of American culture…”

We should all be grateful for that, very grateful. Thank you, Mike. Your efforts are appreciated.

 

And, by the way…If you’ve never seen the 1967 Herschell Gordon Lewis movie (Something Weird) that Vraney took as his company name, you’re missing out on one of the most incredible, insane and audacious low-budget whatisits ever made. The “bedding attack” scene alone is worth the price of admission. Amazing!

 

 

 

When I heard that the actress Juanita Moore had died, I had just finished watching an episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents that I wanted to see because Theresa Harris was in it. Both Moore and Harris were gifted black actresses in the Golden Age of segregated Hollywood. Both were often relegated to playing maids (Harris played a maid in the Hitchcock episode – but did have some lines) and various other servants. But Moore, after appearing in films for nearly twenty years, gained broader acclaim and recognition when she was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for 1959’s version of Imitation of Life.

That’s a title that probably held a lot of meaning for black actresses in Hollywood in the 30s, 40s and 50s. After all, the original 1934 version had provided a large and prominent part for the actress Louise Beavers, who had already made dozens of screen appearances. But, prominent role or not, after that, Beavers was relegated to the only roles (often uncredited) available for black actresses – such as “Lily – Cook #3” in 1939’s Made for Each Other, or “Woman Talking to Police” in 1940’s Primrose Path. Beavers played, by my count, a “Maid” around forty times, and characters named “Mammy” at least five times. Still, as Hattie McDaniel (who played dozens of maids herself) said, “I’d rather play a maid than be one.” Imitation of life, indeed.

In a sort of inverted echo of McDaniel’s quote, Moore was quoted as saying, “The Oscar prestige was fine, but I worked more before I was nominated. Casting directors think an Oscar nominee is suddenly in another category. They couldn’t possibly ask you to do one or two days’ work. You wouldn’t accept it. And I’m sure I would.”

 

 

In other words, Hattie McDaniel won an Oscar, but kept working, taking those small, one or two day gigs. Twenty years later, when Juanita Moore was just nominated, Hollywood had evolved enough to know they couldn’t recognize her talent and then keep shuffling her into bit parts. But it hadn’t (and I would argue still hasn’t) evolved enough so that there were actually meaningful roles to offer a mature woman of color.  Hollywood, for the most part, was past the “Mammy” period, and thus Moore was able to find numerous roles playing “Momma” instead.

Still, Moore did keep working, taking small parts in films and doing guest spots on TV shows. In 1968 she was featured in Jules Dassin’s black cast remake of 1935’s The Informer, titled Uptight, which was a harbinger of things to come.

She finally came into her own, in terms of billing and more prominent parts, during the Blaxploitation Era of the 1970s.  She had roles in the 1973 classic, The Mack, as well as Fox Style (also 1973), the black western Thomasine & Bushrod (1974) and the cult horror hit Abby (1974), a black cast knock-off of The Exorcist (1973). After starting in films during World War II, Moore’s last credit, a guest spot on the TV show Judging Amy in 2001, took her career into the 21^st century. Her life and her work spanned a great deal of change in the country, and within the film industry.

Her career, low key as it might have often been, placed her in some classic films, such as Cabin in the Sky (1943); the controversial race picture Pinky (1949); the all-star Women’s Prison (1955); two minor classics starring Glenn Ford, Affair in Trinidad (1952) and Ransom! (1956); and the Technicolor musical masterpiece The Girl Can’t Help It (1956). Making a living as an actor is never easy. For Moore to have had the career she did, when she did, is extremely noteworthy. I hope she was proud of her work. It doubtlessly meant a great deal to a great many people.

 

 



 POP ALWAYS PAYS (1940) – A Review

The always enthusiastic Leon Errol plays the titular character here, “Pop” Henry Brewster, an overly protective father who refuses to let his daughter Mary (Effie Anderson) marry Jeff Thompson (Dennis O’Keefe) unless Jeff proves he’s left his spendthrift ways behind by saving up $1000. If Jeff does that, Pop also promises to give the young couple $1000 to help them get started in their life together.

Of course, Pop doesn’t believe Jeff will ever be able to save that much money up – but he does, and catches Pop short personally and financially. This sets in motion a fine little farce that involves a “stolen” bracelet, a bad check, and a great deal of empty oyster cans.

Let’s be honest: Nothing in the script here is particularly original or inspired. (The script is by Charles E. Roberts, who would go on to write a number of the Mexican Spitfire scripts – a series that also featured Errol. Leslie Goodwins, who directed this, also directed that series.) But, even though Pop’s plot and many of the gags are familiar, the script does include some nice characterizations and a lot of laughs within the film’s 67 minute running time.

Much credit for this must be given to the cast, who do uniformly good or better work. Errol, never one to underplay, is a little over the top here, but always interesting to watch. O’Keefe, who usually struggles and often stumbles with comedy, is in fine form here. Dependable supporting players like Marjorie Gateson, Tom Kennedy, and the always amusing Walter Catlett also do their part to raise this B picture up closer to an A in laughs.

Though B movies like this were essentially cranked out without a great deal being expected of them, every so often, the system worked to produce a little gem like this one. I was very pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this film. And I was even more surprised the first time I saw it, because it was an unexpected second feature on a VHS tape of The Affairs of Annabel (1938 – also RKO) I had rented years ago. There was no mention of Pop on the cover anywhere, but when Annabel ended, Pop just started. It was the only time I ever had the experience of finding a whole second movie “hidden” on a VHS tape.

For the record, I thought The Affairs of Annabel was a very mediocre film, so Pop was a very welcome reward after having sat through that disappointing effort. Depending on what film Pop was paired with in its initial theatrical release, it may not have been the first time it “saved” another movie.

 

In any case, if you like any of the players here, or just enjoy comedies from the 30s and 40s in general, I recommend Pop Always Pays wholeheartedly. It manages to spin corn into gold – or something like that.

 

THE DEAD (2010) - A Review

 

For clarity: In 1987, John Huston released a film called The Dead. This is not about that film.

Anyway, my wife and I just saw a film from 2010, called The Dead, and it's a fabulous, old school zombie movie set in, and filmed in, Africa. It was written and co-directed by the Ford Brothers, Jonathan and Howard, and if you like zombies and haven't seen this, get going. It's good. Very good. And as someone who loves zombie movies, I feel somewhat foolish for never having even heard of it until recently.  

First, some of the technical basics. As mentioned above, this is an old school, classic style zombie film, with slow shuffling zombies, not the rabid, running kind that have become the norm. Personally, I find zombies frightening because they're slow. It's the whole idea of creeping dread. You can run and run and run...But whenever you finally stop running, they're still there. Ever...so...slowly...gaining...on...you. Modern fast zombies are less fear-inducing, or at least less distinctive. I run, you run, in The Night of the Lepus giant bunny rabbits run. Any lunatic in a movie can run. But only zombies have the creepy confidence to simply shuffle.

Also, The Dead was shot on real, honest to goodness 35mm film, and most of the effects were done in camera, and without a lot of CGI. This, combined with the amazing locations (Ghana and Burkina Faso) make this film a sort of beautiful/dreadful travelogue. I don't know if the press about this being the first zombie movie shot (almost entirely) in Africa is true or not, but some of the landscapes captured are truly breathtaking.

It's a good thing the visuals are as compelling as they are, because much of The Dead passes by without much if any dialogue. Certainly very little of the plot is actually dialogue driven - the story is told pictorially and through the actions of the characters. This is not a weakness, but rather a testament to the skill that the Ford Brothers brought to the project.

Like George Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968), this film just sort of jumps right in: The dead are coming back to life, and things look bad, very bad. No explanation is given for this, or even attempted; it's just a given. And, like in NOTLD, the zombies seem to be everywhere.

But much of The Dead plays out like an inverted version of NOTLD. Whereas in the earlier film, the main character is a black man (Duane Jones), trapped in a single house and surrounded by mostly white zombies, here, the main character is a white man (Rob Freeman) who is at sea in the wide open spaces of Africa, surrounded by mostly black zombies. (Though there is a nice bit - no pun intended - with some white missionaries.) Just as it was impossible not to read some sort of political statement into Romero's film in 1968, it's also impossible not to ponder what political messages the Ford Brothers may have been trying to insert in their film. Certainly the sight of a white man running around Africa shooting black people (even if they are zombies) is one intended to rouse some sort of broader discussion.

Whatever the case though, politics or not, I really enjoyed this movie. Though it might seem like it would be a more tense and terrifying situation to be trapped in a house surrounded by zombies, I think this film makes a good case for the extreme terror that can come from wide open spaces. Where do you take shelter? Where do you sleep? What's behind that tree, over that hill, around that corner...There's no real relief from the tension. And there's almost always someone or something shuffling around in the background, getting closer, slowly closer...

And speaking of getting closer...Now that we've seen this, and enjoyed it so much, my wife and I very much look forward to seeing the sequel the Ford Brothers have made, The Dead: India (2013). We watched the trailer online - it looks pretty amazing, too! Go, Fords! I can't wait to see what country they visit next.

 

THE COUNSELOR (2013) - A Review Revisited

Now that we’re nearing the end of the year, and Oscar ballots are starting to be returned, I wanted to revisit a film that was unfairly vilified and widely written off when it opened earlier this year. That film is The Counselor.

Let me start by saying that earlier this year we kept seeing the trailer for The Counselor every time we went to the movies - and I hated it every time. I didn't get a sense of what the movie was about, the bland title told me nothing, and it just seemed like a lot of name actors (all of whom I consider overrated and/or uninteresting) involved with something seedy and none too compelling. It left me anxious for the film to come out, just so I wouldn't see the trailer anymore.

Now, stick with me as I digress to tell you that my personal definition of film noir is a film about a character who is driven to self-destruction by obsession. That obsession could be a woman, revenge, money - whatever. But it ends badly for the leading character (or characters).

So, I am pleased and surprised to report that The Counselor is a well done, and very bleak, modern noir. My wife was apparently more intrigued by the trailer than I was, and saw it on her own. She liked it enough to see it again, and take me with her. Despite my initial misgivings and disinterest, I'm glad to have seen it, but still wish it had had a better trailer.

Still, even if that had been the case, this is a film that is dark and bleak enough to have flopped with the best trailer in the world. Because The Counselor is a story about the amazing numbers of people who are complicit in the distribution, selling and, I'm talking to you, America, consumption of illegal drugs, which also makes them a party to incredible levels of violence and cruelty, both here and abroad. Like All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, a would-be teen slasher film we also saw earlier this year, The Counselor holds the ugly mirror up to America, and, perhaps not surprisingly, it seems America doesn't want to look at itself in the ugly mirror. Both films somewhat upend genre conventions. Both failed at the box office. But both films are worth seeing.

In many respects, The Counselor resembles one of my favorite noirs, Act of Violence (1948), in which Van Heflin's comfortable life is almost instantly turned upside down by a decision he made earlier, when he had been a prisoner of war. In that film, chaos comes in the form of Robert Ryan, who merely has to appear and Heflin's life implodes.

 In The Counselor, Michael Fassbender is the title character (who has no name), a lawyer who makes a decision to get involved with a drug deal to make a pile of money - only to have things (of course) go horribly wrong, and all that piles up are problems and bodies. Unlike Van Heflin's character, who only had to worry about Robert Ryan, Fassbender finds himself in a situation in which he doesn't know who to trust, what to do, or where to go. He thought he was going to make some fast, big money; instead, he quickly winds up in over his head. For him, paranoia is just the first stop on a road that leads to sorrow and death. Late in the film, Ruben Blades character sums up Fassbender's situation (and offers up a good definition of film noir) when he tells him, "Life is not going to take you back."

It's a great line in what is actually a pretty great film. The performances are strong. A great deal of attention has been paid to details - a too-large shirt collar here, a dirty fingernail there. Multiple characters in multiple locations are presented in a way that keeps things clear, and keeps the story moving forward, in the very strong script by Cormac McCarthy. I even noted the nice, Saul Bass-like credits at the beginning of the film. All in all, a nice piece of work. Dark, yes. Depressing? Possibly. But still, a film that engages and perhaps provokes some thought. The Counselor is the film that the much more successful (and much, much more gorenographic) Prisoners (2013) wishes it was.

Despite the fact that The Counselor is a very dark and violent film, I personally don’t think it’s dangerous the way that something like Prisoners is. In Prisoners, the audience is meant to sympathize with, identify with, Hugh Jackman’s vengeful father. We’re supposed to root for him to get the (assumed) “bad guy” to talk, even if it means Jackman has to beat and torture him – which he does, at great length. Though it’s never stated as such, it’s clear that we’re supposed to believe that the hoped for ends (Jackman getting his kidnapped daughter back) will eventually justify the means (Jackman torturing the info out of the person he has kidnapped) used. Of course, in many respects, there is no difference at all between the “good guy” and the apparent “bad guy” in this scenario.

But in The Counselor, no one seems to be operating under any illusion that they’re doing anything other than something morally wrong - but financially lucrative. There may be no “good” character to root for, but we are at least spared the fraud of a villain pretending to be (or presented to be) a hero of any sort. The dark heart of the film was neatly summed up for me during John Leguizamo’s unbilled cameo, when his character explains that presence of a body in a barrel included in a shipment of drugs counts as a practical joke among drug smugglers. Does it need to be said that in any other context, such an item would count as a horror, not a joke?

Though, as stated above, I am not a fan of any of the actors in The Counselor per se, I thought they all did excellent work here. Cameron Diaz is open about her predatory ways – so open that those around her don’t seem to entirely believe her. Javier Bardem is in over his head and knows it, but is trying to enjoy the ride. Even Brad Pitt is good, with his nervous, ever-shifting eyes.

On the other hand, I am a fan of several of the actors in Prisoners, but, overall, they had little to do. Jackman rages. Terrence Howard stands around looking stunned. And Melissa Leo has to act through one of the worst, most amazingly fake “old lady” make-up jobs I’ve ever seen.

Prisoners tries to both build audience identification with a violent character, while at the same time giving the audience the “out” of being able to say they’re not culpable in any of the violence – just the crazy, violent individuals out there are.

But The Counselor implicates a whole lot of people in the business of making, shipping, selling, and using drugs – as well as those (like the Counselor himself) who protect and defend them legally. This is a much wider net, and one that’s harder for the audience to escape from. At one point in the film, Pitt’s character, Westray, asks the Counselor if he’s ever seen a snuff film. The Counselor answers no. Westray then asks if he would see a snuff film. Again, the Counselor says no. Westray replies, “You might want to think about that the next time you do a line.”

 

RARE EXPORTS (2010) - A Review

 

Perhaps I should start by saying I don’t do Christmas. I’ve often joked that every year at Halloween I become Jewish and stay that way until the New Year – just to be sure. That being the case, generally I’m not a big one for Christmas movies.

But this year, our local independent theater played a Christmas movie that was well worth seeing. I’m talking about the up-and-coming cult Christmas favorite from Finland, Rare Exports (2010). This is a film I recommend seeking out no matter what time of year it is.

I went into this knowing just a bare (and somewhat incorrect, as it turned out) sketch of the plot, and assumed it would be a somewhat campy creepshow. Well, oops! It is, in fact, a very engaging and polished creepshow, with occasional touches of dry humor, and is very much more spooky than kooky.

The plot (minus some spoilers) goes essentially like this: Evil corporate interests find the site where the actual physical remains of Santa are buried (Korvatunturi Mountain), and start digging. Only, it turns out that, despite being buried for centuries, Santa’s not dead (“There’s a heartbeat!”) and, once his burial mound has been breached, the children in the nearby village start disappearing. Santa, it seems, is not the jovial, child-friendly personality we’ve been led to believe he is.

Now, I don’t know if some or any of the supposedly ancient lore about Santa presented here is real, but I do know that the creativity and talent that went into making this film is. Co-writer and director Jalmari Helander has turned out a film that is original, scary, dryly funny, and visually striking – all on a budget of around $3 million dollars. (And Hollywood has taken notice, since next year we can see his “big” picture debut, Big Game, an action film starring the ubiquitous Samuel L. Jackson - as the President of the United States - as well as the young star of Rare Exports, Onni Tommila.)

Rare Exports straddles a couple of genres that don’t often end up in the same neighborhood. On one hand, with young Tommila as the main character and the hero, this is very much a kid’s film, full of adults that have to learn to believe what the children already know. On the other hand, this is a dark and somewhat disturbing horror film, with a fair amount of blood and some genuinely creepy moments. It’s not a grim film, but it is spiritual kin to the darkest of Grimm’s fairy tales. I think that children below a certain age would find it pretty upsetting. But for kids who are all grown up, and who aren’t sensitive about the portrayal of Christmas (Fox News viewers beware!) this is a film that offers much to enjoy.

I need to say it again: I was so struck by the creativity of the storytelling here. It is in such stark contrast to the soul-deadening formulaic crop of crap that American studios churn out so relentlessly. Yes, there are explosions here. Yes, there is some CGI work here. But it’s done in the service of a genuinely original vision, not some remake with a number at the end of the title. Hopefully Helander will be able to maintain some creative control of his projects as he moves up in the world, and not become just another talented foreign filmmaker that ends up making studio slop for Hollywood. We’ll see.

In the meantime, I can’t recommend this film enough. Yeah, you missed it for Christmas this year, but it’d make a great holiday gift – or viewing party! – for next year.

MOVIE MATH FOR RARE EXPORTS: John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982) plus The Gate (1987) plus the first 10 minutes of The City of Lost Children (1995) divided by Aki Kaurismaki equals Rare Exports.

 

 

 

I was saddened by the recent death of Eleanor Parker. I was very saddened by the recent death of Audrey Totter. And now, Peter O'Toole has died, and the news hit me like a punch in the belly. O'Toole was one of my favorite actors, my favorite artists, and losing him truly does feel like a loss to the world.

To be sure, his death (at age 81) isn't that surprising. His history of carousing and unhealthy behavior is already legendary, and he has been clearly, visibly frail for at least the last decade. But still...His talent was so very much larger than life, it could lead one to have hope that such a fierce talent would somehow sustain, somehow keep going for...If not forever, at least for longer. Now he is no longer. But what a legacy he has left behind.

But let me begin by speaking heresy: Despite my deep appreciation for his work overall, I am not particularly a fan of Lawrence of Arabia (1962). Yes, yes - I know it's supposed to be his keynote performance, and a great film. I'm not denying that, or the film's place in cinema history. (It was one of the first films I showed when I had my Classic Matinee series at the Capitol Theater in Olympia, Washington years ago.) Though I can happily watch movies all the day and all of the night, I have never done well with long films - and Lawrence, at nearly four hours, is a very long film indeed. It will be discussed and examined everywhere for all eternity, so I won't dwell on it here.

And, let's also be honest: Like any artist, Peter O'Toole had projects that are best left unremarked and barely remembered. How to Steal a Million (1966) is a would-be lightweight comedy caper that drags like a car with three flats and is about as light and airy as an unleavened poundcake. Which is still better than Alejandro Jodorowsky's The Rainbow Thief (1990), which I couldn't even finish. King Ralph (1991) and a little gem called Caligula (1979) are also ones that O'Toole himself probably didn't keep on his resume for too terribly long.

But when he had material that fit him, he could be radiant, transcendent, immortal. As I've thought about O'Toole and his body of work over the last twenty-four hours, it struck me that the films of his that I enjoy the most, and that I think show him at his best, are all stories that allow his character(s) to make a broad arc from mirth to madness.

In The Ruling Class (1972), O'Toole plays Jack, the 14th Earl of Gurney, who is considered quite mad, simply because he believes he is Jesus, and wanders the family estate preaching peace among men. This type of behavior is quite unacceptable to his family, and, long story short, by the end of the film, he is "cured." Jack is back to being Jack - Jack the Ripper, that is. There is more to it than that, of course, but the brilliant screenplay by Peter Barnes (based on his play) allows O'Toole to not only run riot, but also to run through a full range of human emotions and motivations (from good to evil) and even to sing and dance a little. It's a big, big role, bursting with energy and big ideas, and I can't think of anyone but O'Toole who could have done it. The last scene, in which Jack ascends to the House of Lords, and we see the world as he sees it - his fellow Lords are all cobweb covered corpses - is one of the most chilling scenes ever. And O'Toole conveys both the wonder and the horror of the moment almost entirely with his eyes - there is no dialogue, just a close-up of his face.

Nearly a decade later, O'Toole made The Stunt Man (1980), a film about making films. He played Eli Cross, the director of the film within the film, who puts the title character, a stunt man played by Steve Railsback, through his paces. Cross makes an excellent stand-in for Hollywood, half Angel, half Devil, forever beckoning Railsback's character deeper into a world of sex, violence and make-believe. Eli Cross is not so much a director as a manipulator, and O'Toole plays him to the hilt, charming as can be one minute, cold as ice the next.

However, my favorite O'Toole film, and one of my very favorite films, period, is My Favorite Year (1982). It's a film I've probably watched at least once every year since it came out. Though some find it corny, or old-fashioned, or overly sentimental, I think it's a near perfect film, utterly charming and very funny. As the drunken, has-been movie star Alan Swann (loosely based on Errol Flynn), O'Toole, already showing the ravages of time, is in his element, working from a strong script, and supported by a great cast. Once again, this is a role that is difficult to imagine anyone else playing. Even Peter O'Toole doesn't so much play Swann as inhabit him. The role allows him to range from nearly full-on slapstick to drunken tragedy, and he does it all without missing a beat. I personally think that in many ways it's his best work. The fact that he was nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for the film bears this out. My Favorite Year is, at the end of the day, very much a comedy, and it is extremely rare for actors to get Oscar nominations for performances in comedies. (Ben Kingsley, who played the title role in Ghandi, won Best Actor that year, so O'Toole didn't really have a chance.)

Though there are many great lines from My Favorite Year, the scene that always gets me, the part where I cry every single time I see the film, comes near the end. Swann, drunk and in danger of being deported, has seemingly blown his last shot at redemption - a guest appearance on a comedy TV program. Said program is currently being demolished by local racketeers, on live TV, and the young writer Benjy Stone (Mark Linn-Baker) who got Swann signed for the show has come looking for the washed-up swashbuckler, hoping he'll help, hoping that he'll do something. Swann, afraid, refuses, and I think the dialogue that follows sums up the curious and emotional relationship that exists between performers and their audience:

 Benjy: Alan Swann, afraid? The Defender of the Crown? Captain from Tortuga? The Last Knight of the Round Table?

Swann: Those are movies, damn you! Look at me! I'm flesh and blood, life-size, no larger! I'm not that silly goddamned hero. I never was!

Benjy: To me you were! Whoever you were in those movies, those silly goddamn heroes meant a lot to me! What does it matter if it was an illusion? It worked! So don't tell me this is you life-size. I can't use you life-size. I need Alan Swanns as big as I can get them. And let me tell you something: You couldn't have convinced me the way you did unless somewhere in you you had that courage! Nobody's that good an actor. You are that silly goddamn hero!

So if the roles that Peter O'Toole so memorably and immortally inhabited are larger than life, it's probably because the man himself was in many ways larger than life. When he truly burned, he burned bright, and the lights and shadows he brought to life will beguile and entrance people for as long as there is a human race. Coming from humble roots, Peter O'Toole was truly one of the greats. As Alan Swann so memorably said in My Favorite Year, "I'm not an actor, I'm a movie star!" Peter O'Toole was both, and we are richer for having had him among us.

Rest in peace, Mr. OToole. Those silly goddamn heroes (and villains) meant a lot to me. Thank you.

December 16^th, 2013