The Screengrab : flash gordon

White Elephant Blogathon: Flesh Gordon (1974, Michael Benveniste and Howard Ziehm)

Paul Clark — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 14:00:00 GMT

This review is part of the White Elephant Blogathon, hosted by Benjamin Lim’s blog Lucid Screening.

It’s been said that the two cinematic qualities that one can’t be objective about are comedy and eroticism. Every person has different things that make him laugh or turn him on, and if that doesn’t happen for someone, you can’t explain it and make it work. And combining funny with sexy is an even riskier proposition, since the filmmakers have to work out the proper balance of humor and sex to elicit the natural responses to both without one overwhelming the other. Michael Benveniste and Howard Ziehm’s Flesh Gordon doesn’t come close to achieving this balance. It’s not funny, it certainly isn’t sexy, and it’s just kind of a waste of time. It’s hard to imagine what motivated the directors to make it.

Well, maybe it’s not that hard. I imagine Benveniste and Ziehm, struggling for a movie idea, sitting around one day looking at old Flash Gordon comics- perhaps while high, this being the early seventies. Suddenly, one of them starts chuckling even more than one normally would while stoned, and calls the other over. “Ever notice how much a space ship looks like a penis?” he asks. And the other one would respond, “yeah, and check out Dr. Zarkov! That sounds kinda like jerk-off!” The pot-addled ideas keep coming, and soon they’ve got their new project. Now, I’m not saying that good movies can’t spring from unlikely circumstances- after all, To Have and Have Not was made on a bet between Hemingway and Howard Hawks, and that led to one of Hawks’ best movies, as well as the romance between Bogey and Bacall. But while Hawks’ classic is a fully realized film, Flesh is nothing more than a series of lame jokes and halfhearted softcore scenes in search of a coherent movie.

I’m actually sort of reluctant to use the word “jokes” to describe the comedy in Flesh Gordon, since that word implies a setup and a punchline. Not a single would-be laugh in the movie transcends basic gag status- the filmmakers seem to believe that naughty imagery is a joke in itself, so they don’t do anything to make it actually funny. Consider the ship, which as I’ve already mentioned looks like a penis. But why stop there? Why not make the dick-ship pass through a nebula in the shape of a birth canal on the way to its destination? Why not have make its final destination a vagina-shaped port, only it has trouble clearing the doors so that it has to thrust a few times in order to enter? Sure, these ideas aren’t exactly sophisticated, but at least they use the already-established sight gags in order to form honest-to-goodness (albeit tasteless) jokes. Flesh Gordon can’t be bothered to do this. It’s the kind of movie that assumes that phallic objects alone are hilarious. And if you’re in agreement with that, you’re probably late for your shift at Burger World, Beavis.

What’s more, the movie isn’t remotely sexy. There are acres of (mostly female) skin on display in Flesh Gordon, but as with the comedy, nothing interesting is done with it, so it fades into the background. In researching this review, I discovered that the film originally contained hardcore scenes, but the filmmakers were ordered to cut them and shoot less explicit footage. However, eroticism doesn’t necessarily mean pornography. It does, however, imply more than perfunctory shots of nudity and fleeting glimpses of couples making love. In my experience, the most erotic moments in movies require some patience on the part of the filmmakers in order to let the scenes unfold at an unhurried pace, without letting the plot or the filmmaking get in the way. But the makers of Flesh Gordon don’t care about this- not when they’ve got more dick jokes up their sleeves!

The result is a movie with a strangely juvenile attitude toward sex. With such elements as a monster called Penisaurus, the nefarious villain Wang the Perverted, and his much-feared SeX-Ray, the humor of Flesh Gordon appeals only to those who think naughty words are funny in and of themselves. When it comes to actual sexuality, the movie becomes skittish, turning on the wacky music and turning it into a joke, which takes away the eroticism in the service of a cheap gag. I believe it was Roger Ebert who once reviewed a movie by writing, “if you’re old enough to see this, you’ve already outgrown it.” I can’t think of a better response to Flesh Gordon.

Mike Hodges Remembers: The "Get Carter" Director Writes About Making the Movies That Nobody Sees

Phil Nugent — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 18:00:00 GMT

The British writer-director Mike Holdges scored a big hit right out of the box with his first film, Get Carter (1971), which starred Michael Caine as a vengeful hit man and which just about single-handedly created a new kind of gritty British gangster movie. A couple of decades later, he helped make Clive Owen a movie star with another neo-noir, Croupier, a small film that narrowly escaped going to straight to video but managed to become a genuine sleeper. In between, he worked on probably his biggest-budgeted movie, the 1980 Dino De Laurentiis production Flash Gordon, a somewhat underrated entertainment that is one of the few comics-based movies to achieve true camp--the real, gilded thing itself, mind you, not that sniggery TV-Batman stuff. Aside from these high points, Modges has enjoyed the kind of career you might expect from a smart, talented guy who basically works within the industry but whose instincts aren't strictly, safely commercial: he's made some films, such as the 1987 A Prayer for the Dying, that were reportedly mangled by the distributors, and some, such as the 1985 Morons from Outer Space, where it's tempting to think that some mangling could have only helped. He's also made some movies that, as he writes in an article in The Guardian, never had much of a chance to find an audience. Such as his first film after Get Carter, the tantalizingly bizarre comedy Pulp, which also starred Michael Caine. He played a sleazy writer hired to ghost write the memoirs of a movie star (Mickey Rooney) with actual gangland connections.

Hodges writes that the movie bewildered studio executives and so was banished to the vaults, where it "languished for a year or more. Then one day, a technician appeared, brushed the accumulated dust from its label to make sure he had the right unknown, unloved film, and loaded it on to a truck. It was on its way to New York." Pulp had been selected as the first film shown at a boutique theater in Manhattan that was designed to specialize in noteworthy films that the big chains had no interest in showing at all; in order to emphasize the collectors-item nature of the enterprise, the films were booked for one-week runs only. "Now, at last, the critics would get to see it. Much to the distributor's surprise, it received rave reviews. Time magazine got a little overheated and even mentioned the word 'masterpiece'. While I'm of the opinion that film critics spend too much time in the dark, I'm always grateful when, in the case of my own work, they come to the right conclusions." The only downside was that this was in the pre-Internet days when people had to actually wait a few days for such precious information to get out. By the time those rave reviews in the print magazines had hit the newsstands, the one-week run had ended and Pulp was back in the vault.

Hodges followed that one up with the sci-fi slasher movie The Terminal Man, based on a Michael Crichton novel. In this case, the results are harder to defend, but it does sound as if Hodges put a lot of thought into the choices that make the movie so cold and repellent. (It stars George Segal as a brain-damaged fellow who has part of his brain hooked to a computer to help him get over his bad habit of stabbing people. Guess what happens.) Clearly he responded on a surprisingly personal level to its "message" about the "obvious insanity at the very heart of what drives us," which "also drove me to make the film." For the score, Hodges went austere, using only Glenn Gould's recordings of The Goldberg Variations. The pianist was famously reclusive and paranoid, and the movie had to be sent to Toronto to be screened for him to get his approval for the use of the music. "His own solitary existence and extreme hypochondria," Hodges noted dryly, "must have made for a weird screening."

A "director's cut" of The Terminal Man is showing in London in December. On November 30, there will be a screening of what may be Hodges's most obscure obscurity, the fascinatingly moody thriller Black Rainbow (1989), starring Rosanna Arquette and Jason Robards. The movie was kicked under the sofa by distributors, and Hodges writes that "From then on I consoled myself by calling my work "films in bottles". They would wash up somewhere, some time, and maybe surprise somebody watching some remote cable channel in the early hours. This theory was proven correct one morning when I was working with composer Simon Fisher Turner on the music for Croupier... The doorbell rang. It was a Japanese musician friend of Simon's, who was built like a sumo wrestler. They did their business, and he was on his way out. He suddenly turned back and approached me. My name had rung a bell. 'You make Black Rainbow?' 'I did.' 'I see six times.' I was so astonished I assumed he'd seen it on video. 'No. In cinema. Black Rainbow very big in Japan.'"

Morning Deal Report: Jamie Foxx is a Law Abiding Citizen

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 14:30:00 GMT

Frank Darabont is back and Stephen King is nowhere to be found. Darabont will direct Law Abiding Citizen, set to star Jamie Foxx and Gerard Butler. “Written by Kurt Wimmer and Darabont, the script follows a successful assistant D.A. (Butler) who finds himself at the center of a vigilante plot hatched by a traumatized victim of the legal system (Foxx). Foxx's character is devastated to learn that, because of a plea bargain, one of his wife and daughter's murderers will be set free. So he unleashes revenge on the killers and those who made the deal,” says The Hollywood Reporter. Hey guys, Charles Bronson just called. He wants his big-ass gun back.

Julie Taymor is collaborating with her first screenwriter, William Shakespeare, again. The Titus director will bring a gender-bending version of The Tempest to the screen. Helen Mirren will play “Prospera,” and the cast also includes Russell Brand as the jester Trinculo, Djimon Hounsou as deformed slave Caliban, and Alfred Molina as the drunken butler Stephano. I kind of wish I was watching this right now.

It seems like only yesterday I was telling you about George Romero’s plans for a new zombie movie. (Actually it was three days ago, but who’s counting?) Now one of Romero’s lesser known early works is getting the remake treatment. Breck “son of Michael” Eisner will direct The Crazies, which “revolves around people in a small Kansas town who are beset by a virus that causes insanity and death after a mysterious toxin contaminates the local water supply,” per Variety. A quick check of Eisner’s IMDb page reveals he also has reboots of The Creature from the Black Lagoon and Flash Gordon in the works. I can’t stop him.

Related:
Raiders of the Leaked Frank Darabont Screenplay
Take Five: Romero Alive!

Summerfest '08: "Smiles of a Summer Night"

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 19:45:00 GMT

Our goal here at the Screengrab for the Summerfest '08 feature is to give you a dozen or so movies, all of which have "summer" in the title, which you can watch to no great pain while you are waiting for your dog to bring back the tennis ball you threw in the ocean. Unsurprisingly, most movies with the word "summer" in the title – and, indeed, most movies that are about summer, or are set during the summer, or are released during the summer, or in any way have the lemonade-and-sunscreen scent of summer about them, are pretty light, fluffy concoctions, spilling over with good will, gentle humor, and people wearing far less clothing than they normally would. Today, though, is different. Today we'll be featuring a movie by none other than Ingmar freakin' Bergman. Bergman: the man who single-handedly inspired Woody Allen to become a huge bummer. Bergman: the man whose most famous film involves a dying knight playing a desperate game of chess with the personification of Death itself. Bergman: the man whose very name is synonymous with incredibly heavy European art cinema. Could this man possibly direct a breezy summer movie (or, in this case, a breezy sommar movie)? Could this man, whose movies are stuffed with miserable families, emotional trauma, and metaphysical turmoil, give us, of all things, a fun little comedy?

Grab a chilled bottle of Svedka, book your tickets on Scandinavian Airlines, and join us for some Smiles of a Summer Night!

THE ACTION: Meet Frederik Egerman. He's a Swedish attorney and self-involved clothes horse with a gorgeous teenage wife named Anne. There's one problem with their marriage: they haven't consummated it yet. Meet his son (from a previous marriage) Henrik, a recent graduate from divinity school, who faces a serious impediment to entering the priesthood: he's got a big hard-on for his stepmother Anne – and since she's off-limits, he's carrying on an affair with Petra, his father's maid. Meet Desirée Armfeldt, an actress that Frederik used to have a crush on and who is seriously envied by Anne. She lets it be known that she has feelings for Frederik, which pisses Anne off to no end. Desirée is currently seeing another well-off fop named Carl-Magnus Malcolm, whose wife, Charlotte, is a good friend of Anne. Are you following all this? No? Good. We weren't either, to be perfectly honest with you. Just take our word for it that wacky hijinks and hilarity are bound to ensue.

THE PLAYERS: Hard as it is to believe, Smiles of a Summer Night – which plays, alternately, like an Oscar Wilde comedy of manners and a more subdued, highbrow version of Three's Company – was written and directed by none other than Ingmar Bergman, the grand old man of highly cerebral and incredibly depressing Swedish art films. The movie that started out as Sommarnattens Leende isn't exactly the strongest film in his oeuvre, aesthetically speaking, and tonally, it's a bit jarring to think that this is what he produced just prior to making the deep, masterful The Seventh Seal. Still, despite its novelty value as a light, sunny comedy – or perhaps because of it – it's become a favorite of Bergmanophiles the world over, with Woody Allen essentially rewriting it as A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy and Stephen Sondheim launching his own adaptation with A Little Night Music. The 1955 production (set, uncharacteristically for Bergman at the time, in a contemporary milieu) also features an all-star cast of the director's favorite actors, including the legendary Gunnar Björnstrand, Bibi Andersson, Harriet Andersson, and Ulla Jacobsson.

SUMMER FUN: Generally speaking, there isn't a lot of summer fun in Ingmar Bergman movies. Sure, characters sometimes go to the beach, but it's usually to have nervous breakdowns, sexually traumatic encounters, or existential crises stemming from their incestuous affairs. They don't got to drink banana daiquiris and snap each other with towels. While Smiles of a Summer Night is, indeed, based during the four days of the calendar year that pass for summer in Scandinavia, it's frightfully low on frat-boy hijinks and authority figures falling into swimming pools. There is a certain element of summer fun, but it's typical Bergmanesque stuff for the overeducated clove-smokers in the back row: going to the opera, falling into mud puddles, and having ever so delightful romantic misunderstandings.

HAWAIIAN SHIRTS: Despite its contemporary (well, contemporary for Sweden in the mid-1950s) setting and alleged comic tone, there is not a Hawaiian shirt anywhere to be found in Smiles of a Summer Night. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that there is not a Hawaiian shirt anywhere in any of the films of Ingmar Bergman. Given that the two main characters are unrepentant fops, it is likely that if they were to even encounter someone wearing a Hawaiian shirt, they would have him arrested and imprisoned. The closest anyone in a Bergman movie comes to wearing a Hawaiian shirt is when Max Von Sydow dresses up in a gaudy Fu-Manchu-from-Mars getup in Flash Gordon. And, just to head this question off at the pass, assume that there are no scenes where people do body shots as Boston plays over a CD jukebox.

BIKINI PARTY TIME: There's no denying that Sommarnattens Leende is stuffed with beautiful women. Although its approach to sexuality is pretty strait-laced (not surprising for the times, but it's a bit mild for Bergman), the ladies are lovely to look at, especially Ulla Jacobsson as Anne and Eva Dahlbeck as Desirée. However – and I do not wish to alarm you here, but it is my duty as a movie reviewer to tell the unvarnished truth, no matter how unpleasant – there is not a single bikini in the entire movie. This would be inexcusable enough in what is essentially a romantic summer comedy, but lest we forget, this movie was made in Sweden – the home of the world-famous Swedish Bikini Team! Despite this inexcusable lapse (what, Bergman couldn't have gotten one lousy off-season Bikini Team member to play the maid or something?), we'd still recommend this uncharacteristic but rewarding film by the master of Swedish cinema; if nothing else, it'll help you feel smarter and classier after a viewing of Summer Catch.