The Screengrab : buster keaton

Screengrab Presents THE TOP TEN BEST FILMS EVER!!!! (Part Nine)

Andrew Osborne — Fri, 15 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT

Paul Clark's Top Ten Best Movies Ever!

1. BELLE DE JOUR (1967)
2. 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968)
3. THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928)

The greatness of The Passion of Joan of Arc stems from the fact that director Carl Th. Dreyer knew what it was that made Joan’s story important- not that she believed that God had tasked her to save France, but that she was so steadfast in her faith that she thought it better do die than to deny it. Consequently, Dreyer’s version of Joan’s story has no battle sequences and no heavenly visions, merely a powerful retelling of Joan’s final days, her trial and execution. The world of this film is an unsparing- one might say godless- one, full of evil and underhanded men who are more than willing to sacrifice Joan for their own political gain. This serves to throw into sharp relief the power of Joan’s faith, by heightening the pain and suffering she endured up to the end for the God in whom she so resolutely believed. Falconetti’s performance, then as now, is a wonder, and it’s only fitting that she never appeared onscreen again- how could she have possibly lived up to it?

4. JEANNE DIELMAN (1975)

The sheer amount of focus that director Chantal Akerman and star Delphine Seyrig bring to this film is pretty breathtaking, showing us the everyday life of one woman over the course of 3 ½ hours. What’s more, Jeanne Dielman isn’t an especially noteworthy woman- she’s a single mother who turns the occasional trick to help pay the bills. But rather than lingering on Jeanne’s side job- which has no bearing on her life outside the confines of her bedroom- Akerman instead shows us the details of her everyday routine- preparing the meals, cleaning the flat, doing the shopping, and so on. Because of Akerman’s extensive use of real time, the film becomes about this routine, and consequently, when anything interrupts the routine, the film gains a surprising amount of impact, even from something as simple as Jeanne not getting her usual seat at the local café. As of now, Jeanne Dielman is unavailable in the United States in any home viewing format, so if the film ever makes it to your local rep house, you owe it to yourself to go.

5. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST (1968)

6. ORPHEUS (1949)

“A legend is entitled to be beyond time and place,” states director Jean Cocteau in his introduction to Orpheus. This unique approach to the original myth allows Cocteau to re-imagine it as one of the kinkiest love-quadrangles the big screen has ever seen, involving the titular poet, his wife Eurydice, Death herself, and her chauffeur Heurtebise. The movie’s key performance is from Maria Casares, who is not the larger-than-life Death that most audiences would expect, but so life-sized and lonely in the role that the love entanglements are allowed to be as poignant as they are. One of the most memorable touches Cocteau brought to the film was his knack for making the real world surreal, not merely through editing and camera trickery (film run backwards for eerie effect, characters suddenly disappearing into thin air), but also through strange locations (a bombed-out building used as the realm of the dead) and surreal plot points (chiefly among them the car radio on which Orpheus listens to the bizarre "poetry"). Cocteau was a true multi-talented artist, and Orpheus is on top of everything else one of the great films about the uneasy mix between art and life, in which life and art intrude onto each other, but in the end, if the art is truly enduring then not even death- or Death- can take it from the world.

7. CITIZEN KANE (1941)

8. PLAYTIME (1967)

I don’t think that any viewer who is paying attention can possibly deny what a singular directorial achievement Playtime is. With this film, a box-office disaster on its initial release, Tati re-created modern-day Paris on his own terms as a sterile maze of boxy skyscrapers, plate-glass windows, and beeping gadgetry. But while other filmmakers might be tempted to turn this setting (built entirely from scratch for the film) into an urban nightmare, Tati- true to the film’s title- concentrates on the funny little eccentricities that sneak their way in. This approach is ideal, as it turns out, as Tati’s impossibly intricate mise-en-scène (his skill at engineering visual moments is even keener than Keaton’s) would run the risk of becoming stifling if it wasn’t done with such offhand charm. To describe any of the priceless moments in the film wouldn’t spoil them so much as it would sell them short, as Tati pulls them off so perfectly, yet so unassumingly. And in the midst of it all is Tati’s signature character Hulot, a bastion of old-fashioned provincialism, who would exist at odds with his hyper-modern surroundings but for his singular brand of good-natured aloofness, which translates surprisingly well to his new environment. Playtime is bravura filmmaking of the gentlest kind, a film that demands to be revisited- and seen on the biggest screen possible- innumerable times to be appreciated, and is a sheer delight on each and every viewing.

9. THE GENERAL (1926)

If I was forced to choose a favorite filmmaker, my first choice would almost certainly be Buster Keaton. But for me, an even tougher choice is which of his films to choose. For the purpose of this list, I decided to disqualify Keaton’s short films, which sadly eliminated such classics as One Week, Neighbors, and The Scarecrow. In the end, while part of me was tempted to choose Sherlock Jr. or Seven Chances, I kept coming back to The General, which is both the greatest Civil War movie ever made and one of the greatest comedies in cinema. Rather than filling the film with wacky, distracting supporting characters, much of The General is comprised of scenes with Keaton alone on the train, and these scenes feature some of the most ingeniously realized gags ever put on film- the most legendary being the one in which Keaton finds a railroad tie atop the tracks in front of the train, so he carefully climbs down onto the train's cowcatcher and uses another railroad tie to knock the first one off the tracks. Like so many of the film's great moments (which are plentiful) this gag is less about gut-busting hilarity than engineering- we marvel at the simple ingenuity of it, with the added charge that Keaton did even the most dangerous stunts himself. There’s also a nonchalance about the film that's refreshing, a charm that takes its cue from its star's unassuming demeanor, that allows even the most intricate gag or potentially deadly stunt to feel like a throwaway, as though instead of a show-stopping moment it's all just another annoyance to this character's routine. Which, of course, only makes it funnier.

10. GATES OF HEAVEN (1978)

Roger Ebert may sometimes be prone to going overboard with praise, but when he’s right, he’s right, and he’s 100% right about Gates of Heaven, a movie he’s been stumping for for more than three decades. Fans of Errol Morris know what I’m talking about, but for the rest of you- yes, it really is that good. Morris may use pet cemeteries as his starting point, but ultimately it's about the ways in which we deal with the death of those we love, and by extension with our own mortality. Morris has always been one of the most patient of documentarians, and one of the chief pleasures of Gates of Heaven is in the distinctive and colorful ways the various interviewees talk, from the bone-weary resignation of failed cemetery owner Floyd McClure to the regurgitated management philosophies of Philip Harberts to (especially) ornery old Florence Rasmussen. And as Morris interviews various owners of dead animals, they reflect on how important these pets were in their lives as a source of companionship and unconditional love- sure, these people sound a little crazy for projecting these feelings onto animals, but simply by presenting these people the film asks us how many people can offer the same kind of loyalty these pet owners felt from their pets? In the end, this film offers no small amount of plain-spoken philosophy, as when one pet owner states, "there's your pet, your pet's dead. But what happened to the thing that made it move?" No film I've seen is this profound about the ways in which people seek meaning not in art or centuries-old wisdom, but in the lives (and deaths) of others.

SPECIAL MENTION: DECALOGUE (1989)

This being a “best movies” list, it’s debatable whether Krzystzof Kieslowski’s The Decalogue really qualifies, since while it has played theatrically all over the world, it was originally intended as a ten-part miniseries for Polish television (call this “special mention” a compromise). What’s undeniable, however, is that this is one of the major works of the twentieth century. Decalogue was inspired by The Ten Commandments, but one of its great achievements is that it views the Commandments less as religious doctrine than key moral tenets that govern most modern-day societies. So rather than trafficking in pious, preachy parables, Kieslowski and co-writer Krzystzof Piesiewicz examine the ways in which people in the modern world struggle with these age-old decrees, not always successfully. In one of the episodes, a girl who has grown close to her widower father must decide how to deal with her feelings after she discovers that he isn't her biological father after all; in another, the unfaithful wife of a gravely ill man finds out that she is pregnant by her lover, and tells her husband's doctor that the unborn child's fate will be decided by whether or not he believes her husband will die. And in the series’ most beloved episode, a teenage voyeur falls in love with a woman he spies on, and decides to become part of her life. The way this film plays out defies all expectation, yet in retrospect the events seem almost inevitable. The Decalogue may or may not be an according-to-Hoyle movie, but I’m guessing that when the history of moving-image-thingies is written, The Decalogue will occupy a place of honor.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight & Ten

Contributor: Paul Clark

Screengrab Presents THE TOP TEN BEST MOVIES EVER!!!! (Part Five)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 14 May 2009 22:00:00 GMT

Phil Nugent's Top Ten(-ish) Best Movies Ever!

7. THE LADY EVE (1941)

Veronica Geng: "The American filmmaker Preston Sturges had a supreme gift for making people laugh without representing the world as better or worse than it is... In [his films], politics is rigged, poverty is immune to charity, bosses are petty dictators and workers live on dreams of jackpots, romantic love is either a luxury of the rich or a fabrication of the con artist, and small-town America's morality is the kind that ostracizes an unwed pregnant girl while embracing a bogus war hero. Yet these movies sent waves of euphoria rolling through the audience." That's one way of putting it. Here's another: Once upon a time, in a place called Hollywood, there lived a great man who one day decided that, if he had anything to say about it, the world would never forget William Demarest.

8. Double feature: JULES AND JIM (1962) & BAND OF OUTSIDERS (1964)

The intellectual wild men of the French New Wave, in revolt against their country's "tradition of quality" and taking sustenance from the grungier products of the Hollywood dream factory, took their cameras to the streets and proved that, so long as they were left alone to get their movies made as best they could, the improvisational high spirits and smarts and humor and excitement and heady romance of their finest work would remain ever fresh. Then, after a few masterpieces, one of these directors settled down and practically turned into a one-man Tradition of Quality, while the other dependably went him own way, albeit with a destination pass that was frequently stamped "CRAZYTOWN." The fact that it all somehow resulted in an American movie culture where a movie starring John Travolta and Bruce Willis made for eight and a half million dollars could count as a triumph for independent filmmaking is actually one of pop culture history's better jokes.

9. FIRES ON THE PLAIN (1959)

Apocalypse now, and then some.

10. STEAMBOAT BILL, JR. (1928)

By the time Buster Keaton hit Hollywood, he had been performing in vaudeville since he was three, the son of comics who incorporated him into their act. No man has, by his very example, provided a more stirring argument against the child labor laws. Keaton was a simple sort of man for a great artist: he just happened to be someone who, by the time he grew to adulthood, had mastered every skill that might be helpful to the creation of physical comedy and then, having taught himself the mechanics of filmmaking, turned out to have as strong an eye as anyone who's ever lived at staging physical comedy for maximum effectiveness on camera. It is dizzying to imagine what he might have achieved--on top of what he did achieve, which make no mistake about it, was a titanic body of work--if there had been no studio to get in his way.

11. Double feature: CITIZEN KANE (1941) & CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT (1967)

People call Citizen Kane, the debut film that Orson Welles directed when he was 25, a young man's movie, and it is, though in a way that not everybody may fully appreciate. It is an exercise in high-spirited flamboyance, but it is also, crucially, a movie made by a man who doesn't care about burning his bridges behind him, a self-styled "man of the theater" who, as a lark and a fund-raising expedition, decided to take a movie studio up on its offer of "creative control" and make one of those talking picture dealies, figuring that the worst that could happen would be that he'd generate a lot of publicity and a wad of cash that he could then plow into the stage career that he did care about. It is a movie made by a man who thought he'd be spending his life and doing his real work elsewhere, and so whose attitude towards the faded press baron whose face he was dunking in mud, and the scaredy-cat old studio heads who so dreaded what the press baron might still be able to do to them that they tried to pool their resources to buy and burn the film, was: Bring it on. Chimes at Midnight, made a little more than 25 years and many, many lifetimes later, is a movie made by a man who, in the course of burning those bridges, fell so completely in love with the medium that he would do anything to make another one, patching a film together with whatever spindly resources he could pull together. Strange as it may be that the cocky young bastard and the inspired old wizard were the same guy, we were lucky to have ever had either one.

12. Double feature: ERASERHEAD (1977) & BLUE VELVET (1986)

David Lynch arrived just as the American moviemaking renaissance of the 1970s was winding down, with a $20,000 movie that he'd been working on, off and on, over the course of some five years and that looked as if he'd been quietly reinventing moviemaking, starting with the period of silent experimental film and moving on from there, in blissful innocence of anything else going on in the world. Almost a decade later, everybody's favorite homegrown Surrealist achieved his apotheosis with a movie that was released at a time when indie filmmakers were asking to be congratulated on keeping things safely small and lo-fi and film geeks were catching up on what had come before through the miracle of VCRs hooked to small screens, and served notice that some dreams demand to be appreciated on the biggest screens available, with Dennis Hopper's heavy breathing tickling your ear in Dolby while the lushest nightmare on record unfolded before your eyes. Nowadays, David checks in from time to time via his website, and has responded to the digital information age with Inland Empire, which loses nothing when viewed as a YouTube video, and in fact practically demands to be seen that way. Time for somebody else to step up.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three, Four, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine & Ten

Contributor: Phil Nugent

Taxing Time: A Screengrab Salute To Beat The Clock Cinema (Part Two)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 20:30:00 GMT

IT'S A MAD, MAD, MAD, MAD WORLD (1963) & RAT RACE (2001)

I can’t say for sure whether I’ve ever watched It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World all the way from beginning to end in one uninterrupted sitting, but I’ve definitely seen every part of the movie numerous times: mostly during lazy Sundays as a kid, when Stanley Kramer’s three-hour, star-studded tale of random strangers racing for treasure played (thanks to endless commercial breaks) like an all-day Laff-Olympics, featuring generations of comedy all-stars ranging from Buster Keaton to Milton Berle, Mickey Rooney, Buddy Hackett, Phil Silvers, Sid Caesar, Ethel Merman and a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo by the 1963 edition of the Three Stooges (with Joe DeRita on drums). More than a few strands of Mad, Mad’s chaotic, uneven DNA wound up in the seminal fluids of the far less epic (and epochal) yet funnier than expected Rat Race, featuring another group of random celebrity strangers (including John Cleese, Rowan Atkinson, Seth Green, Jon Lovitz, Kathy Najimy, Whoopi Goldberg, Dave Thomas, Amy Smart, Breckin Meyer and Cuba Gooding, Jr.) involved in another episodic race against time for treasure...but this time, with original songs by the Baha Men! (AO)

BREWSTER'S MILLIONS (1985)

Walter Hill’s Brewster’s Millions was the seventh big-screen adaptation of George Barr McCutcheon’s 1902 novel and, thanks to the participation of headliner Richard Pryor and co-star John Candy, it remains the most well-known and popular. Taking its basic narrative cue from prior versions, Pryor plays a washed-up minor league pitcher who discovers that he’s the sole remaining heir of a long-lost kooky relative who, from beyond the grave, offers him a stunning deal: if he can spend $30 million in 30 days, he’ll inherit $300 million. It’s a too-good-to-be-true offer that, of course, proves more troublesome than it initially seems, as Pryor’s nobody finds it increasingly difficult to successfully relieve himself of so much money, a predicament from which Hill squeezes mild laughs as well as a predictable money’s-not-everything moral. Pryor’s dynamically profane humor is blunted by the proceedings’ safe PG conventionality, and the film is far less funny than Hill’s prior 48 Hours. Yet in Brewster’s Millions’ defense, its time-tested conceit still manages, over a century after its initial birth, to effectively ignite the imagination. (NS)

JUGGERNAUT (1974)

Richard Lester's there's-a-bomb-on-this-ship thriller brings class and wit to the disaster genre. The plot involves a demolitions wizard who secrets a collection of big-ass bombs on Skipper Omar Sharif's cruise ship, which are set to go off unless he's handed a wad of extortion money. While Lester scans the landscape for signs of the throwaway slapstick bits and eccentric, comic character moments that were his stock in trade, Richard Harris brings it on a rocket sled as the dashing, showboating cynic leading the team of bomb defusers who are flown in and dive down to join the ship in the middle of the ocean during a very photogenic storm. After his best mate is killed, Harris takes a break to get roaring drunk and deliver his Oscar-reel speech before getting back to work. You might think that getting roaring drunk when attempting to defuse a bunch of bombs is next on your to-do list would be be ill-advised, but if you do, what part of "Richard Harris" do you not understand? (PN)

DR. STRANGELOVE, OR, HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB (1964)

Dr. Strangelove is beginning to rival Psycho as one of the movies we can find a reason to cram on to pretty much any list, but we couldn’t very well compile the greatest races against time without including it. After all, the stakes couldn’t be higher: if President Muffley and his advisors don’t succeed, the endgame will be the utter annihilation of life on Earth. Stanley Kubrick uses the simplest possible device to remind us of how close the world is coming to Armageddon: the little electric bulbs on the “Big Board” blink ever closer to the interior of a map of Russia. And yet, while everyone in the room knows the importance of what’s going on, no one can seem to focus on the matter at hand: General Turgidson is more concerned with being hoodwinked by the commies, Ambassador DeSadesky wants fresh fish and Cuban cigars, and the President gets into arguments with the Russian premier over who’s more sorry about this turn of events. It’s brilliant because it’s so ridiculously plausible: the end of the world is nigh, and no one can be bothered to pay attention. (LP)

Click Here For Part One, Three, Four, Five & Six...before it's too late!

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Nick Schager, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce

Thursday Poll for April 9, 2009

Paul Clark — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Last week’s April Fool’s Day festivities got the Screengrab thinking about cinematic goof-offs past and present. Bringing old and new together was the announcement of the cast of the Farelly brothers’ upcoming Three Stooges project, and we asked you which of the casting choices you found most intriguing. Of the three announced actors, your top choice was perhaps the most unlikely- Benicio Del Toro as trio’s cranky ringleader, Moe. Bringing in a full 50% of the vote, Del Toro bested his future cast mates, Jim Carrey as Curly (who got a scant 6%) and Sean Penn as Larry (13%). Interestingly enough, the second most popular choice was a joke inclusion on my part- Iggy Pop as himself- although considering the Farellys’ history of stunt casting in small roles, I wouldn’t be surprised if he finds his way into the movie. And for the record, “What? This casting sucks!” tied with Penn at 13%.

In addition, for our bonus poll last week, we attempted to settle the age-old Keaton vs. Chaplin debate. The results found 2/3 of you preferring Keaton, with the rest partial to Chaplin. However, it’s perfectly okay for you to like both, each in his own way. Reader Brandon even threw out an interesting option, “Keaton for shorts, Chaplin for features.” Any way’s fine with us- we’re not looking to start any fights, after all…

In case you hadn’t heard, this week marks the start of major league baseball season, in which all the promise of spring training begins to be fulfilled in earnest- or, in the case of some of us, gets flushed down the crapper. With the possible exception of boxing, no sport has been given the cinematic treatment more often or with the same degree of success as baseball. From little league to the big leagues, baseball movies are perennial favorites of moviegoers across the country. A little while back, Baseball America magazine conducted a poll of the greatest baseball movies of all time, and with this week’s poll we’ll be asking you which of their top five is your favorite.

Which of Baseball America's top 5 is your favorite? | BuzzDash polls

As always the comments section is open for you to stump for your favorites or suggest other related topics of conversation. For example- is it just me, or is the American League much better-represented by Hollywood movies than the National? Discuss.

National Film Registry's 25 Picks for 2008

Phil Nugent — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 15:30:00 GMT

The Library of Congress has announced its annual selections of the twenty-five films chosen to be added to those included in the National Film Registry, on the basis of their "cultural, historic, or aesthetic significance." (They've been doing this for nineteen years now; this year's inductees bring the total up to a neat 500.) As usual, the list features a number of Hollywood classics, including John Huston's caper film The Asphalt Jungle (1950); John Boorman's modern Southern Gothic Deliverance (1972); Elia Kazan's A Face in the Crowd, one of the earliest indictments of the potential rabble-rousing power of television; Erich Von Stroheim's silent feature Foolish Wives (1922); King Vidor's 1929 Hallelujah, an early sound musical with an all-black cast, and the 1961 Broadway musical adaptation Flower Drum Song, an early break away from the tradition of casting Caucasian performers in Asian roles; James Whale's Universal horror classic The Invisible Man (1933), starring the voice of Claude Rains; Nicholas Ray's febrile Western Johnny Guitar (1954); the 1957 On the Bowery, an attempt to fuse documentary locations and non-professional actors in a story of skid row alcoholics; The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), an adventure film featuring some of the best work of the special effects master Ray Harryhausen; and the obscure sci-fi B-movie,The Terminator (1984). There are also films that document moments in the careers of legendary performers, such as the 1926 W. C. Fields short So's Your Old Man and the early Buster Keaton two-reeler One Week, and such historical curios as Disneyland Dream (1956), a color home movie of a family trip to Disneyland that provides "a fantastic historical snapshot of Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Catalina Island, Knott’s Berry Farm, Universal Studios and Disneyland in mid-1956"; three year's worth of documentary footage that George Stevens shot during World War II; and a film directed by the late James Blue for the United States Information Agency documenting the 1963 Civil Rights March on Washington. Also included are experiemental and student films such as Len Lye's "scratch" film Free Radicals (1979), Mitchell Block's 1973 No Lies, and Pat O'Neill's "city symphont", Water and Power, which dates from 1989--the first year that the National Registry began to make its selections.

The full list is as follows:

1. The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

2. Deliverance (1972)

3. Disneyland Dream (1956)

4. A Face in the Crowd (1957)

5. Flower Drum Song (1961)

6. Foolish Wives (1922)

7. Free Radicals (1979)

8. Hallelujah (1929)

9. In Cold Blood (1967)

10. The Invisible Man (1933)

11. Johnny Guitar (1954)

12. The Killers (1946)

13. The March (1964)

14. No Lies (1973)

15. On the Bowery (1957)

16. One Week (1920)

17. The Pawnbroker (1965)

18. The Perils of Pauline (1914)

19. Sergeant York (1941)

20. The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958)

21. So’s Your Old Man (1926)

22. George Stevens WW2 Footage (1943-46)

23. The Terminator (1984)

24. Water and Power (1989)

25. White Fawn’s Devotion (1910)

The Screengrab Holiday Special: Movies We’re Thankful For (Part Four)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 16:30:00 GMT

PAUL CLARK IS THANKFUL FOR:

BETTY BLUE (1986)

It would be a mistake for me to trace the birth of my love for movies to one film, and if I was foolish enough to do so, a better candidate would be something like Pulp Fiction. But while Tarantino pushed me down the road of cinephilia, I was still a sheltered suburban high schooler for whom subtitled movies were still, well, foreign. So I suppose it makes sense that my first experience with French cinema was motivated by the same factor that has led generations of curious moviegoers to the arthouses and dusty “foreign” shelves at the video store: sex. “Check this one out,” said the pierced twentysomething guy behind the counter to me and my pack of renting buds. “It’s French -- you know what that means.” And in the course of the evening, if anyone didn’t know what that meant, they would soon be educated. It wasn’t just the subtitles or the sexuality though -- Betty Blue introduced me to the sort of woman I’d never seen before in a movie. As played by Beatrice Dalle, Betty was a stark contrast to the teenage girls who mostly snubbed me throughout my high school years -- she was a feral life force, fiercely carnal, both sexy and more than a little scary. But even more than that, Betty Blue was the gateway drug that got me hooked on French cinema, leading me to Truffaut, Renoir, Godard, and all my auteurial pals. Not bad for a movie I watched primarily to see some tits.

BELLE DU JOUR (1967)

Every movie lover has that one movie that speaks to him in ways that defy explanation, and that causes him to cling to it and defend it like a lioness defends her cubs. For me, it’s Luis Bunuel’s late-period masterpiece. Why, you ask? Part of it is no doubt the eternal allure of Catherine Deneuve -- still my favorite actress and movie star -- in the role that practically defined her on- and offscreen persona from that point forward. But Deneuve aside, there’s the film itself, an enigmatic puzzle-box of dreams, fantasies and fetishes that refuses to let itself be pinned down. I must have watched Belle de Jour at least fifty times over the years, and each time something new pops out at me. For one thing, it gets a whole lot funnier the more you watch it, especially the scenes involving Deneuve and the ever-lecherous Michel Piccoli. But most of all, I guess I love how slippery the character of Severine is -- unlike most filmmakers, who boil down their characters to a handful of defining events and motivations, it’s never quite clear what drives Severine, and the extensive flashbacks and fantasy sequences bait us with the possibility of an answer before pushing us away again, confounding us. In the end, it’s nothing but a tease, but as any successful tease can tell you, that’s what keeps ‘em coming back for more.

THE SCARECROW (1920)

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If I have a favorite filmmaker, it’s Buster Keaton, whose films have brought me more pure pleasure than any other director’s. Of course, his features are magnificent -- especially The General, Sherlock Jr. and Seven Chances -- and the feature form allowed him to sustain his filmmaking brilliance in a way that has set an impossibly high bar for future generations (so far, only Tati has managed to vault it, though Jerry Lewis came close once or twice). However, for pure laughs, give me his short films any day. The lunacy of One Week and the athleticism of Neighbors have their defenders, but for me, it doesn’t get any better than The Scarecrow, which begins with an uproarious scene in a house filled with sight gags and just gets more blissfully inspired from there, wrapping up in a scant twenty minutes. There’s a reason why The Scarecrow has become my most dependable cinematic cure-all -- for me, no other movie can turn around a crappy day faster or more reliably than this one. But don’t take my word for it -- thanks to the magic of YouTube, the entire short can be viewed above.

THE FILMS OF DON HERTZFELDT

It was back in 2005 that I had my first Don Hertzfeldt experience. I headed to the local theatre to watch the first installment of The Animation Show, and sometime during the Hertzfeldt-directed introductory short -- probably around the “Egg!” “Egg!” “Flower!” “Egg!” bit -- it hit me like a slap in the face. “This guy is a stone cold genius,” I thought. And nothing I’ve seen since has dissuaded me from that opinion. Naturally, I love his early work -- the twisted angst of Ah, L’Amour, the tentative dating saga Lily and Jim, the gloriously sick joke of Billy’s Balloon. But Hertzfeldt, to his credit, has never rested on his laurels. Rejected is a blast to be sure -- nominating it for Best Animated Short has to be one of the coolest things the Academy has ever done -- but the incendiary chaos of its final minutes pointed the way to the more experimental films that were to come. And Hertzfeldt hasn’t looked back, first tackling The Meaning of Life, then turning inward with the profound, Raymond Carver-esque Everything Will Be OK. After seeing the latter film, I wrote, “against all odds, Hertzfeldt just gets deeper and better with every film. I'm almost afraid of his next movie.” I only hope that his latest, I Am So Proud of You, makes it to Columbus sooner rather than later to scare the proverbial pants off me.

THE COLUMBUS MOVIEGOING SCENE

For most Columbus residents, Ohio State football casts a long shadow over the local scene. Yet growing up in the suburbs has made me better-equipped to appreciate the city’s more cultured side. For one thing, where I grew up I had to drive for over an hour to attend a movie theatre that played subtitled films. So I’m thankful that I have several in town now, presenting me with a number of tantalizing cinematic possibilities. All right, so maybe we don’t get the artsy stuff until weeks or even months after it opens in New York City. And fine, our local arthouse situation has become somewhat tenuous of late (here’s hoping that the Grandview Theatre can re-emerge better than ever next spring). But by gum, there’s still a lot to love about going to movies in Columbus. There’s the Horror and Sci-Fi Marathons which I’ve written about on innumerable occasions, giving geeks from miles around a chance to converge on Cowtown twice a year. But most of all, there’s the Wexner Center, an invaluable resource to the artistically-minded moviegoer. Not only can I catch up on the latest works from the masters of world cinema, but the Wex also plays plenty of classics, both in its theatre (equipped with the city’s only working 70mm projector) and occasionally in the galleries, where I’ve recently been haunting the Warhol exhibition. I’m still waiting for the day when Columbus takes its rightful place as the Austin of the North, but until that happens, what we’ve got now will do quite nicely, thank you very much.

Click Here For More Thanks From Andrew Osborne, Scott Von Doviak, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce & Sarah Clyne Sundberg

Contributor: Paul Clark

Set Your DVR!: October 6 - October 12, 2008

Hayden Childs — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Hi, Screengrab readers! For my first post, I thought I’d kick off a series in which I suggest various movies worth recording off of cable TV in the upcoming week. See, I know that since you read the Screengrab, you have a fairly solid grasp on the movies and movie history, but there’s always some that slip through the cracks. The movies I’ll mention here will give you a chance to catch up on those that you might have overlooked. If I miss something, please post it in the comments!

Here’s the skinny: I’m assuming, of course, that you’ve gone to the trouble of getting a DVR (or have a VCR you know how to set, at the very least) to go along with the cable you pay for month after month, but you don’t always keep an eye on upcoming movies. Since you’re reading the Screengrab, I’m not going to recommend movies that everyone recommends, such as Singin’ In The Rain (which, incidentally, I record just about every time it’s on, because I always have time to watch one of the dance numbers). I’m not going to be too esoteric, either. I’ll use an in-law test: I’ll stick with movies that I doubt my mother-in-law has seen, and that way will try to catch some of the great movies that are more likely to slip through the cracks. One more thing: no premium channels, mainly because I can’t afford them.

Mon, Oct. 6:
Nothing here. Good thing, too, since I’m not posting this until Tuesday Morning

Tues, Oct. 7:
9:00 am: Ace In The Hole on TCM. I don’t think this is a very good movie. But plenty of reviewers disagree with me, so I’m going to mention it. Actually, by the time this goes live, it'll probably be too late.

8:00 pm: Don’t Look Back on VH1CL (repeating at 11:30 pm). Maybe you’ve seen this, and maybe not. But it’s one of the great rock documentaries and, if you watch it, you’ll enjoy I’m Not There that much more.

Wed, Oct. 8:
11:45 pm: The Gay Divorcee on TCM. I mentioned I like dancing, right? This is Fred and Ginger at their best.

Th, Oct. 9:
1:45 am: Top Hat on TCM. I take those last comments back. This one is Fred and Ginger at their best.

7:00 pm: Four Jacques Tati films (Jour de Fete, Mr. Hulot’s Holiday, Mon Oncle, and Play Time) on TCM. Ah, the whimsy! Can you stand it? Honestly, I’ve only seen the last of these, and I wasn’t much taken with it at the time. But attitudes change. I intend to record ‘em all.

Fri, Oct. 10:
12:15 am: Play Time on TCM. Already mentioned this.

2:30 am: The General on TCM. Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone should have seen this by now. But not everyone has, so I hereby recommend that you record and watch it if you fall into that camp.

3:45 am: The Navigator on TCM. Same deal as above.

5:00 am: Macbeth on TCM. This is Orson Welles’ 1948 version where everyone affects a crappy Scottish accent, even the actual Scots in the film. Welles’ accent in particular is so horrid and depressing that it may cause you to think less of Citizen Kane. However! This is one of those movies that has enough greatness and interest elsewhere - in this case, in the visual language of the film and the minor plot changes - that it’s worth a viewing despite its deficiencies.

7:00 am: Gerry on IFC. I love the hell out of Van Sant’s death trilogy (is that a spoiler? I’m not sure). Some viewers find them long and pointless, but I think all three have a transcendent beauty to them that gives meaning to the pointless death in each and begs the question: what’s the point of anyone’s death? In this one, two guys get lost in the desert. There’s a ten-minute tracking shot near the end where they walk from the dark into the morning sun without changing their positions to each other that I think is one of the prettiest scenes in all cinema. It’s almost Abstract Expressionism. Don’t watch it if you don’t like Rothko, but if you do, snap this one up.

8:00 pm: Dick on Oxygen (again at 10:00 pm). This movie looked stupid and fluffy in the previews, and I didn’t watch it until a friend forced it on me. It’s hilarious. Best as the second half of a double feature with All The President’s Men.

Sat, Oct. 11:
6:30 am: Journey Into Fear on TCM. Entertaining little spy thriller with Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten.

7:00 am: Samurai 2 on IFC. The second part of the epic trilogy. Even if you haven’t seen the first part, the plot is fairly self-explanatory and thoroughly enjoyable.

10:15 am: Primer on IFC (repeat at 3:00 pm). Smart, smart no-budget sci-fi thriller. I had to watch it a couple of times (and finally consult a website) to untangle the central mystery, but that’s part of the fun.

11:00 am: After The Thin Man on TCM. The second Thin Man movie. That’s all I need to say, right?

3:00 pm: The Haunting on TCM. This is the 1963 Robert Wise movie, not the awful remake. I recommended it to a friend last Halloween, and she told me it was the worst movie she’d ever seen. I think she’s very, very wrong. It still creeps me the hell out.

Sun, Oct. 12:
5:00 am: 24 hours of Paul Newman movies (The Rack, Until They Sail, Torn Curtain, Exodus, Sweet Bird Of Youth, Hud, Somebody Up There Likes Me, Cool Hand Luke, Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, Rachel, Rachel, and The Outrage) on TCM. Have you seen all of these? I haven’t. Go on, catch up on the guy’s work.

7:00 am: Cleo From 5 to 7 on IFC. Many classics of the French New Wave spend so much time and effort trying to unlock the mysterious, riddle-like conundrum of the enigmatic, baffling desires of oh-so-fickle womanhood that no one will forget they were made by men. This one was actually made by a women, and you can tell.

6:45 pm: Last Days on IFC (showing again Monday at 3:35 am). The third in Van Sant’s death trilogy. I suspect it plays much better if you don’t really care about Kurt Cobain. I don’t, and I loved it.

7:00 pm: Dave Chappelle’s Block Party on MTV2 (repeat on Monday at 5:00 pm). Aw yeah! Somehow Michel Gondry and Dave Chappelle combined forces to make a concert film that is good-natured, loose-limbed, and funny in ways that most concert films could not even conceive.

Mon, Oct. 13:
In case I’m late getting the next installment up on Monday, I just want to mention the following:

11:00 am: George Washington on IFC (repeat at 4:15 pm). Slow and thoughtful take on African-American youths in a go-nowhere Southern town directed by the guy who made Pineapple Express. Obvious influences: Terrence Malick and Charles Burnett.

2:00 pm: Vanishing Point on FMC. The lesser of the two great existential car movies of 1971 (Two-Lane Blacktop is the other). This one’s still a pop culture point-of-reference, especially for Tarantino movies. Definitely worth a viewing.

Screengrab Presents: The Top 25 War Films (Part Seven)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 23:30:00 GMT

HONORABLE MENTION

300 (2007)

Even relatively anti-war films like Platoon acknowledge the fierce camaraderie and euphoric adrenalin rush of warriors in combat, but this surrealistic adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel about a legendary phalanx of Spartans taking on a zillion enemy warriors is all bloodlust, all the time. Yet, while historically suspect (since modern researchers are pretty sure the power-mad Persian king Xerxes didn’t really command a legion of trolls, orcs and giants from the darkest reaches of Middle Earth), and hardly on par with more serious evocations of combat (like, say, Apocalypse Now or Full Metal Jacket), 300 is notable, like many of the best war films, as a reflection of its time. Some critics detected jingoistic echoes of George W. Bush’s “bring ‘em on” foreign policy in the refusal of Spartan badass King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) to negotiate with foreign powers, going it alone with his own Coalition of the Willing when other nations (and a cowardly Congress...er, Spartan Council) refuse to authorize war against an imminent Persian threat to democracy and freedom. Just as Nixon reportedly watched Patton over and over again before sending troops into Cambodia, it’s easy to imagine Bush viewing 300 to make himself feel better about sending American troops into combat without sufficient body armor: after all, Leonidas and his 299 BFFs take down half Xerxes’ army bare-chested! Framed as a tale of indeterminate tallness relayed by a warrior to inspire his fellow troops on the verge of combat, the fetishized fairy tale unreality of 300’s violence, tone and (xenophobic) politics, its conflicted homophobic/homoerotic ideal of manliness, its complete surrender to (and celebration of) CGI fakery and its wild popularity and seductive guilty pleasure craftsmanship all combine into a fascinating time capsule of an age when troops compare combat to video games and the line between fact and fiction, has never seemed quite so blurry.

JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN (1971)

Some antiwar films spin their message with subtlety, some with humor, some with grace and some with a quiet sense of loss. Not Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun: it cuffs you to your chair and spends the next two hours beating you over the head with its message that war is nothing more than a huge grinding machine designed to destroy bodies and minds. Based on his own novel – which had the misfortune to appear on the eve of the Second World War, thus assuring its brutal message would be completely drowned out – Johnny Got His Gun was directed and written by Trumbo himself, following a thirty-year quest to bring the story to the screen. It’s not a particularly accomplished movie; Trumbo was a first-time director, and it shows. But the sheer horror it conveys through the portrayal of young Joe Bonham, a WWI veteran who has been rendered more or less a human paperweight by an enemy shell, and the sheer contempt it shows for a social order in which hundreds of thousands of lives are destroyed as if that were an acceptable way to solve problems, makes for a devastating viewing experience, and one which found a much more receptive audience at the height of the Vietnam War. (Many viewers later became familiar with Johnny Got His Gun due to its being heavily excerpted in Metallica’s video for “One”; the band had encountered so many difficulties in licensing individual scenes that they eventually just bought the entire move outright.)

THE GENERAL (1927)

Buster Keaton's Civil War comedy starring a train is probably the greatest war comedy of the silent era, unless you want to count The Birth of a Nation as history's little joke on D. W. Griffith's reputation. In the big battle scene, the Union army was played by five hundred members of the Oregon National Guard, and the Confederates were played by the same five hundred members of the Oregon National Guard, after a quick costume change. Apparently Keaton had some doubts about the acting ability of the guy playing the Northern general who sees the train tumbling into a river as the bridge it's crossing is dynamited, since legend has it that he didn't tell the fellow that the bridge he was facing was about to be blown up while the train was crossing it; certainly the man's expression of surprise is Oscar-worthy. After the location shooting was done, Keaton and his crew went back to Hollywood without bothering to clean up after themselves, and the wreckage of the train remained where it had fallen. The locals turned it into a tourist attraction until the scrap metal was needed during World War II.

MEN IN WAR (1957)

This diamond-hard Korean War drama was directed by Anthony Mann, a once-neglected action master who's now best remembered for his Westerns with James Stewart. Though little known, this movie is up there with the best of those. The superb cast is headed by Robert Ryan as a lieutenant in charge of a platoon lost behind enemy lines. As they inch their way along in search of safe ground, they're joined by a couple of strays: blunt, bullying Aldo Ray and Robert Keith -- gaunt and aged-looking, with huge hands and haunted eyes -- as a mute, shell-shocked Colonel who Ray treats as protectively as an especially mean seeing eye watching out for its master. The flat simplicity of the movie's title summons up echoes of early Hemingway, and its best scenes would do Papa proud.

Click Here for Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five & Part Six

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Leonard Pierce, Phil Nugent

Screengrab's Back To School Round-Up: The Top 15 College Movies (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 20:00:00 GMT

Two weeks ago, in the spirit of the season, your overeducated friends at The Screengrab kicked off a two-part Back To School tribute with a list of the 18+ Top High School Films. The second part of our salute to readin’, writin’ and massive student loan debt was postponed so we could honor the memory of fallen voice-over king Don LaFontaine with a celebration of the Greatest Coming Attractions Trailers...mini-masterpieces of marketing that make even the worst movies seem like must-see events.

On further reflection, though, I realized the Coming Attractions list maybe wasn’t such a detour from our Back To School tribute after all. For me, at least, the College Movies I saw growing up were a vivid advertisement for all the wild ‘n crazy fun and (more importantly) SEX I’d be having in the hallowed halls of higher education.

But, like any number of flashy preview trailers, those cinematic depictions of frat party free love turned out to be VERY misleading, and I soon learned a liberal arts degree ain’t nothin’ but a one-way ticket to the Blogosphere of Broken Dreams...

...not that I’m bitter, like so many of the characters in the College Movie’s sister genres of Post-Graduate Malaise and Faculty Feuds...all of which await your approbation (it'll be on the SAT...look it up!) as we count down the Top 15 College Movies Of All Time!

ANIMAL HOUSE (1978)

I read an article recently about the way the success of Animal House led to a pernicious slob culture (or something like that...anyone who knows the article I’m talking about can probably correct me in the Comments section). But the gist, if I remember correctly, was the way the “misfits” of Delta House became the obnoxious norm in American society, in the same way that hip-hop and “alternative” music became all-pervasive and, in so doing, lost most of what made it good in the first place. The argument has some merit, I suppose...but in the same way Grandmaster Flash and Nirvana can’t be entirely blamed for all the crapulosity they inadvertently spawned, John Landis’ modern classic at least earns a high spot on this list as the template-setting granddaddy of the modern college film. It's also, it should be noted, much smarter than many people remember, neatly bridging the gap between Baby Boomer self-indulgence and Gen-X ironic detachment. Sure, Tim Matheson’s Otter is a smarmy asshole...but at least he’s an asshole with a sense of humor and a modicum of perspective (unlike those Omega House choads). John Belushi’s Bluto may be a monster of destructive Id...but the movie wisely uses him as a spice, perfect for those moments when revenge and treacley acoustic guitar smashing really ARE the best options. And the ever-delightful Peter Riegert and Karen Allen ground the movie with just enough brains, heart and maturity to remind us that villainous Dean Wormer has an actual point when he notes, “Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life.”

COLLEGE (1927) & HORSE FEATHERS (1932)

The greatest film comedian of the silent era, Buster Keaton, and the greatest comedy team of the early talkies, the Marx Brothers, both brought off classics with collegiate settings, and both zeroed in on the same aspect of college life: sports. In Keaton's gentle-spirited slapstick romance, he plays a brainiac who abandons his books in hopes of proving himself on the athletic field so he can win the girl of his dreams. Less interested in fitting in or plucking heartstrings (though they do all takes turns throwing themselves at "the college widow", Thelma Todd), the Marxes head straight for the wheels of power, with Groucho installing himself as the head of Huxley College and devoting his time to trying to staff the university football team with ringers hired out of the local speakeasy. A more inspiring vision of the American higher education system is hard to imagine, though you might find one in Groucho laying out his administrative plan and philosophy of life in the introductory anthem, "Whatever It Is, I'm Against It."

RE-ANIMATOR (1985)

Future adaptations – of which there are many coming down the pike – may one day prove us wrong, but for our money here at the Screengrab, the most successful film adaptation to date of an H.P. Lovecraft story is the one that refused to take the material completely seriously. There’s no doubt that Stuart Gordon loves Lovecraft; one look at his oeuvre proves it. But when he made Re-Animator in 1985, he served it up with a wicked dose of black humor that’s entirely invisible in the source material. Of course, Lovecraft’s stories were rife with collegiate atmosphere; the legendary Miskatonic University plays a major role in almost all his Cthulhu-mythos tales. But Gordon updates it to the modern day, making his protagonist a medical-school everyman, his major villain a scheming blowhard with tenure, and his female lead’s father an ineffectual – and ultimately doomed – school administrator. Only the role of mad scientist Herbert West – played by a deliciously over-the-top Jeffrey Combs – seems like a throwback to classic movie horror. The rest of the movie, from its ultra-gory fright scenes to one of the most repulsively memorable sex scenes in modern cinema, plays like a filmed treatise on how to successfully screw with horror conventions. Like Night of the Creeps, it does more than set its action on campus; it takes a decidedly academic (and often sophomoric) approach to its subject, and the result is a modern-day classic.

WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? (1966)

There’s nary a student to be seen in one of the greatest college movies of all time. In fact, there’s hardly anyone in it at all: two college professors at a small-town university – one an older history professor, the other a young chemistry professor – and their wives (and, briefly, an ancient couple who run a roadhouse on the edge of town). The history teacher, played by a quietly vicious Richard Burton, and his wife – whose father is the president of the university – despise each other, and over the course of the evening, they will attempt to destroy each other, stopping just short for the strangest of reasons. For Burton and his wife – a poisonous, unstoppable Elizabeth Taylor – the young professor and his agreeable nothing of a wife are nothing more than weapons to be deployed against one another; over the course of a single late night, which begins at a faculty party, and quickly moves on from campus politics to what has been memorably termed ‘the politics of personal destruction’, they will fully understand their status as knives waiting to be unsheathed. Featuring some of Edward Albee’s sharpest dialogue, and Burton and Taylor at the peak of their powers, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? has survived countless parodies (it’s virtually shorthand for hateful feuding couples) and the rising and falling stars of its actors, director, and author, and it’s remained one of the most riveting pieces of cinema of the 1960s.

Click Here for Part Two & Part Three

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce

Anita Page, 1910-2008

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 12 Sep 2008 17:45:00 GMT

One of the last living links to the silent film era, and one of that period's brightest stars, passed away in her Los Angeles home earlier this week at the age of 98. In addition to being one of the silent era's most beautiful and popular stars, Anita Page was also one of its most fascinating stories, both for her meteoric rise to the top and her abrupt -- and self-driven -- decision to quit the business.

Born in Flushing in 1910, she left Queens to make it big in pictures when she was still a high school student, landing her first role (as an extra) at age 15. Her big break came in 1928, when she co-starred with Joan Crawford in Our Dancing Daughters. Although her character died at the end of the picture, audiences immediately took to her saucy grin, easy blonde good looks, and petite frame, and the movie -- as well as two sequel-cum-remakes, Our Modern Maidens and Our Blushing Brides (also starring Crawford) -- made her a huge star. She became one of the biggest stars of the era, daily receiving hundreds of fan letters, including multiple proposals of marriage -- at least according to Page herself -- from Benito Mussolini.

Her fame only increased, and she got the chance to appear with some of the era's hugest stars (including Lon Chaney, Buster Keaton, Clark Gable, and Ramon Navarro). While many silent film stars faced a difficult transition to the sound era, Anita Page thrived; her first speaking (and singing) role was in 1929's The Broadway Melody, which became the first talkie to win an Oscar and gave her a signature hit song in "You Were Meant for Me". (The song's composer, Nacio Herb Brown, later became Page's husband.) In 1933, her contract with MGM expired, and, at the peak of her success, she became embroiled with the studio over a pay raise. When MGM wouldn't budge, Page simply walked away from show business; with the exception of a few joke appearances in low-budget horror movies in the late 1990s, she would never appear in another film, by her own choice. She was twenty-three years old.

Yesterday's Hits: Around the World in 80 Days (1956, Michael Anderson)

Paul Clark — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 19:00:00 GMT

If there’s one thing Hollywood is sorely lacking nowadays, it’s larger-than-life figures. Nowadays, most moviegoers want their industry types to be down to earth, but in the classical era of Hollywood, it was a different story. Tinseltown was ruled by grandiose, even vulgar men who flaunted their wealth, made bold statements and engaged in dangerous behavior just to fuel their taste for adventure. Today’s peekaboo paparazzi photos and pregnancy gossip pale in comparison to the stories of Errol Flynn’s legendary parties and John Huston deciding to make a movie in Africa with the notion of shooting an elephant while he was there.

Michael Todd was one of these men. Todd began his career in Hollywood by running a construction company that specialized in soundproofing studio stages, but after he was bankrupted by the Depression, his colorful life really began. He began producing stage shows, often of ill repute. He romanced Gypsy Rose Lee, star of one of his productions. He married Joan Blondell, after his first wife died under suspicious circumstances. He gambled and spent money like a decadent prince, causing Blondell to divorce him and leading to his second bankruptcy. He staged a nudie musical written by the future king of Thailand. And if that’s not enough drama for one lifetime, he later married Liz Taylor. Todd also had a hand in the development of the three-screen Cinerama process before pioneering a technological breakthrough of his own, the Todd-AO process, which Todd envisioned as being “Cinerama coming from one hole.” And the crown jewel of Todd-AO was 1956’s Around the World in 80 Days.

What made Around the World in 80 Days a hit?: In addition to its wide screen and greater clarity (Todd-AO cameras shot at 30 frames per second instead of the usual 24), Todd-AO also employed the widest-angle lens of the era, approximately 150 degrees. These factors made the format ideal for filming grand epics and panoramic vistas. The first Todd-AO release was 1955’s Oklahoma!, but the maximum potential of the format was realized the following year with Around the World in 80 Days. A long in-development project that had yet to come to fruition, Todd used his newly-regained resources- much of which had been earned by his stake in 1952’s This Is Cinerama- to film his adaptation of Jules Verne’s novel on location all around the world, showing off what Todd-AO was truly capable of doing.

For such an ambitious production, it was only fitting that Todd would fill it to the brim with international stars, all the better to draw in moviegoing audiences worldwide. After pairing up-and-coming Hollywood leading man David Niven with popular Mexican entertainer Cantinflas (as Phileas Fogg and Passepartout, respectively), Todd then surrounded them with a galaxy of stars in cameo roles. It seemed like wherever the travelers went, another handful of familiar faces would drop in to greet them, with bit roles for the likes of Noel Coward, John Gielgud, Trevor Howard, Charles Boyer, Ronald Colman, Charles Coburn, Peter Lorre, George Raft, Marlene Dietrich, Frank Sinatra, Buster Keaton, and Edward R. Murrow as the narrator of the film’s introduction. The combination of globetrotting adventure and big stars worked like gangbusters, with the Around the World in 80 Days pulling in $23.1 million dollars- the second-highest gross of 1956 behind The Ten Commandments- and taking home five Oscars including Best Picture.

What happened?: Jules Verne’s novel, written in 1872, was meant to inspire a sense of wonder in its readers. But as is often the case with gee-whiz science fiction, much of the wonder evaporated once the fantasy became reality. By 1956, humanity had long since “conquered the air,” and the notion of circumnavigating the globe in four score days didn’t hold too much magic. So while Around the World in 80 Days offered audiences the irresistible combination of big stars and widescreen vistas, the story was little more than an excuse for a series of misadventures involving Phileas and/or Passepartout rather than the wondrous futuristic spectacle Verne had intended.

In addition, while Michael Anderson was credited as the director, this was without a doubt Mike Todd’s film, something that was discovered early on by the film’s original director, John Farrow. But Todd wouldn’t be around much longer to enjoy his success. In 1958, while flying his unfortunately-monikered plane “The Lucky Liz,” Todd suffered a fatal crash. This negated the possibility of any more ambitious Todd-produced epics, as well as beginning the slow decline of the Todd-AO process, which continued in a more conventional 24fps format through the sixties before dying out altogether.

Does Around the World in 80 Days still work?: Not really. If the film was charming in 1956, it’s merely quaint today. For one thing, the much-ballyhooed international shoot comes across mostly as hype nowadays. To modern audiences’ more sophisticated eyes, the seams in the production really show, as when the film cuts from a sweeping foreign vista to a shot of the stars gazing at it in wonder. Much of the action that actually involves the actors looks like it was filmed on soundstages. This isn’t categorically a problem, but when a movie’s primary selling point is that it was filmed on locations around the world, it feels like something of a cheat when the international shots appear to be second-unit work.

In addition, the principal actors in the film are consistently underwhelming. Watching his work as Phileas Fogg, it’s clear why David Niven never became a superstar- not only does he lack the necessary star presence, but his screen persona isn’t very interesting. Phileas Fogg is clearly meant to be an upper-class eccentric- independently wealthy, time-obsessed yet impulsive. Yet with Niven in the role, we have to take the movie’s word for it as regards his eccentricity, since all he brings to the table is a vague air of urbane sophistication. Perhaps a leading man who was more adept at comedy- Cary Grant, perhaps, or Alec Guinness- could have made the role enjoyable, but with Niven it just sort of sits there.

Similarly, despite his celebrity status south of the border, Cantinflas wasn’t cut out for stardom stateside. He looks fairly uncomfortable acting in English, and his physical schtick isn’t very funny, although Anderson and Todd’s insistence on extreme long shots doesn’t help any. Shirley MacLaine, in one of her first films, is sorely miscast as the Indian maiden Aouda, in keeping with classic Hollywood’s highly uncool tradition of “browning-up” white actors for ethnic parts. And while Around the World in 80 Days popularized the practice of “cameo” roles, they’re almost always distracting. Is that brief flash of recognition that comes over audience members when the piano player turns out to be Frank Sinatra really worth the tedious setup? I would argue that it’s not.

In the end, Around the World in 80 Days hardly seems to warrant the “epic” label that many ascribe to it. Far from justifying the largesse of the production, the film feels like an amusing trifle with some picturesque scenes interspersed in order to make the film feel like an event. With comedy that isn’t especially funny and lead actors who get outshone by both the scenery and the stars in the bit roles, Around the World in 80 Days amounts to little more than a widescreen travelogue- diverting in spots with some pleasant company, but not very interesting cinematically, and not really worth revisiting.

Summer of Silents

Leonard Pierce — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 16:30:00 GMT

One of the nice things about living in a big city is that there's always a lot of big corporations with money to throw around. If you're an aspiring filmmaker, they might just throw some at you! Such is the case with the Silent Film Festival, which, despite the name, is actually a competition.

Here's how it works: You make a film (silent, but it can be accompanied by live music) under three minutes long. It revolves around one of these themes:

- What is New York?

- What's your favorite emotion?

- What emotion is New York?

- Your favorite ghost story

No explicity nudity or violence; otherwise, go nuts. Submit your work on a DVD in .mpeg or QuickTime format by August 11th, along with your full name, phone number, e-mail, mailing address, and a description of your fim, category, and inspiration to:

ATTN: Silent Film Festival

60 E. 42nd Street Ste. #659; NY, NY 10165

The ten best films will be displayed in a prominent place in the city by the competition's sponsor, a major Manhattan real estate developer. In addition to the free publicity, the sponsors will also pay your way into two major film festivals (your choice) you'd like to submit the film to. You can contact the festival with any questions.

Meanwhile, if you're more in the mood to watch silent films than make them, the Silent Film Society of Chicago kicks off their 2008 festival season this Friday with a series of Harold Lloyd shorts. The festival continues at the Portage Theatre for six more weeks, with live organ accompaniment and films starring Clara Bow, Buster Keaton and Gloria Swanson, among others. Ah, the sound of silents...

Andrew Stanton's Retro-Futurism

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 16:30:00 GMT

Tasha Robinson at the AV Club brings us a brief but very engaging interview with Andrew Stanton, longtime studio pro at Pixar and the director of WALL-E. In a wide-ranging discussion, he talks about the lunch meeting that produced a decade of the best animated films in history, the development of Pixar from a handful of like-minded creatives to a massive Hollywood studio employing hundreds of people, and his unconventional approach to writing a script in which the main character has no voice. "I remember reading the script for Alien," he recalls; "It was written by Dan O'Bannon, and he had this amazing format where he didn't use a regular paragraph of description. He would do little four-by-eight word descriptions and then sort of left-justify it and make it about four lines each, little blocks, so it almost looked like haikus. It would create this rhythm in the readers where you would appreciate these silent visual moments as much as you would the dialogue on the page. It really set you into the rhythm and mindset of what it would be like to watch the finished film. I was really inspired by that, so I used that format for WALL-E."

One of the fascinating things about the interview is the discussion of how the most high-tech movie studio in history uses some positively primitive methods to actually make their movies. Starting with the standard lament that computers will always take up all the time you allocate them to solve a problem ("Once you've got more memory, you just want to do more with it. And you end up feeling it takes just as long to do now the 16 things in five minutes instead of the one thing you used to do in five minutes"), Stanton notes that Pixar always views its films as storytelling challenges, not technical ones (how do you make a cool movie about monsters, as opposed to how do you solve the fur problem in CGI). He also notes that, with WALL-E, they were attempting to tell a story almost entirely visually, and so looked back -- way back -- for cues: forsaking Chuck Jones' Warner Brothers cartoons as overly familiar to geeks like themselves, they instead prepared for each day's work by watching a Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd silent short every day at lunch for a year and a half.

By the way, I can't be the only one who thinks of Wally Gator when this film is discussed, can I? I can? Okay, never mind.

CGI Must Die: 5 Reasons Why

Andrew Osborne — Mon, 12 May 2008 18:00:00 GMT

Plastic surgery is a good metaphor for CGI (a.k.a. "computer-generated imagery"): it works best when you’re least aware of it, adding value without calling attention to its glaring, unnatural fakery. A little and you’re marveling at the natural, age-appropriate sexiness of Susan Sarandon, Helen Mirren or Meryl Streep, wondering “did she or didn’t she?” with regard to nips, tucks and nose jobs. Too much, and you’re recoiling in horror at that freakish Cat Lady lady, gasping in shock over missing noses and airbag lips, or wondering why Nicole Kidman keeps wearing that creepy Nicole Kidman mask.

Hollywood has developed an unhealthy addiction to both plastic surgery and CGI, preferring the obviously fake to the convincingly real, whether in the form of grotesquely disproportionate rock-hard breasticles or pixilated atrocities like Speed Racer, the cinematic equivalent of watching other people's birthday brats play video games at Chuck E. Cheese for an endless 135 minutes.

Did Jar-Jar Binks teach us nothing? Call me old-fashioned, but I still prefer a little special in my special effects: cinematic images that make me go, “Oh my God, how’d they do that?” rather than, “Dude, that reminds me of this awesome World of Warcraft battle I just posted on YouTube!”

If you’re one of the CGI addicted who think all non-pixelated movie effects are inherently “cheesy,” consider the following clips an intervention as we here at the Screengrab present five examples of amazing movie moments that had (almost) nothing to do with computer-generated imagery.

Just about any Buster Keaton movie

See that car falling apart while Buster Keaton is driving it? See the front of that house falling and nearly crushing him? See that bridge collapsing with the train on it? All that shit actually happened in real life, not in post-production!

The Road Warrior

Why are high speed car chases with actual cars (and trucks and motorcycles and gyrocopters) better than computerized car action? Gee, I don’t know...maybe the same reason sex with an actual human being is better than internet porn?

The Thing (1982)

Sure, the shape-shifting alien action in John Carpenter’s The Thing may look as fake and unbelievable as CGI...but the viscous, tactile ooze has an icky, organic quality that's very hard to duplicate in the shiny world of greenscreen ones and zeroes.

Altered States

CGI scenes all tend to have a similar look, not unlike the legions of aging Hollywood starlets sporting “trout pout” and Spitting Image puppet faces after one too many visits to the neighborhood Botox dispensary. Directors and special effects coordinators forced to get a little more creative, however, may come up with distinctive, fucked-up and memorable images like those found in this one-of-a-kind Ken Russell phantasmagoria.

Star Wars

And speaking of tactile...one word: models. The star destroyer in the opening scene of Star Wars (along with all the nooks and crannies of all the ships in 2001, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Alien) were and remain more iconic and dramatic than all the CGI pod-racers, Naboo royal cruisers or Trade Federation frigates the computers at Skywalker Ranch have ever rendered.

Don’t get me wrong. CGI has achieved some amazing things: the bullet-time sequences in The Matrix, Gollum and that buck naked Angelina Jolie in Beowulf. But enough is enough, people. It’s time for Hollywood to go cold turkey.

For the betterment of all humanity...CGI Must Die.

The Rep Report (April 8--18)

Phil Nugent — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 15:00:00 GMT

SAN FRANCISCO: Anyone who's had the aurally disheartening experience of watching a silent film with one of those canned, rinky-dink organ accompaniments that used to predominate public-television broadcasts should want to tip his hat to the Club Foot Orchestra, the San-Francisco-based ten-piece group that, starting in 1987, has composed and performed a whole string of new scores for various silent classics. On April 12, the Castro Theatre presents three great movies with live music from Club Foot: Buster Keaton's perfect comedy Sherlock Jr. as a special "discount-priced matinee", and an evening double bill of two peerless nightmares from Germany, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and F. W. Murnau's gloriously contaminated vampire film Nosferatu. It's hard to think of a better way to treat your eyes and ears on a Saturday night.

BERKELEY: The Pacific Film Archives gets its goofy on with "American Nonsense: Frank Tashlin" (April 11--18), a retrospective of the work of the onetime Warner Bros. animation director who saw his years working with Bugs, Elmer, and Daffy as a mere apprenticeship for handling Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, and Jayne Mansfield. In his most distinctive work, Tashlin used his "living cartoons' and color and the Cinemascope screen as tools with which to create a Silly Putty universe. Things kick off with Tashlin's rock and roll movie, The Girl Can't Help It, a Mansfield vehicle that includes performances by Little Richard, Fats Domino, the Platters, Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, Abbey Lincoln, Eddie Cochran, and Julie London. Part of the humor now comes from the film's cluelessness about the staying power and the sound of rock; between that and the exaggerated sleaziness of its show business milieu, it's a movie in which Little Richard comes across as practically the most rational person on screen.

NEW YORK: The Fifteenth New York Annual Film Festival opens at the Film Society of Lincoln Center on April 9 and runs through the 15th. This year's festival, which includes forty features from across the continent, includes a special focus on the emerging phenomenon on female African filmmakers, including Osvalde Lewat-Hallade, Ngozi Onwurah, Katy Léna Ndiaye, and Zina Saro Wiwa. The festivities will also include receptions honoring Charles Burnett, the director of Killer of Sheep, and Nobel Prize-winning writer Wole Soynika, to be held at the Frieda and Roy Furman Gallery, adjacent to the Walter Reade Theater.

And we couldn't let this pass without a salute: tonight, at 7 P.M., the Film Society presents Erik Nelson's documentary profile of our man, Harlan Ellison, Dreams with Sharp Teeth, which includes an original score by another living god, Richard Thompson. Both Nelson and Ellison his own bad self will be in attendance.

Location, Location, Location: Yankee Stadium

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 18:30:00 GMT

If you didn’t wake up at 5:00 EST this morning and turn on ESPN2, you may not be aware that baseball season has begun. (The Oakland A’s and Boston Red Sox played their season opener in Japan’s Tokyo Dome, which accounts for the rather unorthodox start time.) This will be the final season for Yankee Stadium (a new version of same is scheduled to open across the street in 2009), so it only seems appropriate to commemorate Opening Day with a look at the cinematic history of the House That Ruth Built.

According to our crack research staff, Yankee Stadium’s earliest screen appearance came in Harold Lloyd’s 1928 feature Speedy. In his final silent film, Lloyd plays a cabbie who races Babe Ruth to the Stadium and stays to watch in the game, in which Ruth swats one of his then-record 60 home runs for the season. Not to be outdone, Buster Keaton appeared that same year in The Cameraman, in which he played a one-man game at the otherwise deserted stadium:

Fourteen years later, another sort of one-man show became the most famous scene to be shot at Yankee Stadium, as Gary Cooper re-enacted Lou Gehrig’s famous farewell address in Pride of the Yankees:

It’s hard to top that one as far as baseball monologues go, but Kevin Costner gave it a shot in 1999's For the Love of the Game, in which he played an aging pitcher attempting to complete a perfect game from the Yankee Stadium mound. With John C. Reilly as his catcher, how can he lose?

And finally we have this romantic moment from Anger Management, featuring the incomparable emoting of Rudy Giuliani. If only every American voter had seen this clip, his presidential campaign might still be alive today.