The Screengrab : jeremy irons

Ron Silver, 1946 - 2009

Phil Nugent — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 14:00:00 GMT

Ron Silver has died, at 62, after a two year battle with esophageal cancer. The living image of the "New York actor", Silver, was something of a specialist in fast-talking, saturnine cynics, an association that became even greater after he won a Tony Award for his semi-legendary performance as a Hollywood shark in David Mamet's 1988 Broadway hit Speed-the-Plow. Silver's performances in the Mamet play and in David Rabe's 1984 Hurlyburly--neither of which, sadly, he got to repeat on film--cemented his image as the great white way's modern notion of a successful movie industry sleazeball. Ironically, he never became the star in movies that he was onstage, but he had a long and healthy career in TV and movies anyway. After a barely detectable film debut in the unfunny underground comedy Tunnel Vision (1977) and a recurring role alongside a fellow Broadway baby on 1980's The Stockard Channing Show, Silver began to develop a name for himself in movies with his rambunctiously funny performances in the romantic comedies Best Friends (1982), in which he played, yes, a Hollywood producer, and Lovesick (1983), in which his character, a Hollywood star returning to his New York stage roots, gave him the chance to mock Al Pacino.

Throughout the rest of the decade, Silver would move freely from stage to TV to movie roles, including a starring role in Sidney Lumet's Garbo Talks (1984). His peak of national visibility probably came in 1989 and 1990, when he played Jerry Lewis's son in a multi-episode story arc of the cult series Wiseguy; gave the performance of his movie career as the lead in Paul Mazursky's superb movie version of Isaac Bashevis Singer's Enemies, a Love Story; stalked Jamie Lee Curtis as a deranged stockbroker turned serial gunman in Kathryn Bigelow's Blue Steel; starred as a leftish screenwriter navigating the 1950s blacklist era in the British TV film Fellow Traveller; and don a Groucho mustache to play Alan Dershowitz in counterpoint to Jeremy Irons's Oscar-winning turn as Claus von Bulow in Barbet Schroeder's torn-from-the-headlines Reversal of Fortune.

Though he continued to work steadily, his days of playing leads in theatrical features that people went to see receded behind him, and he began to enjoy his best opportunities in movies as a campy villain, in such movies as the Jean-Claude Van Damme picture Timecop (1994), where he confronted his younger self with a plea that he lay off the candy bars, and The Arrival (2006), where he got to deliver a speech explaining that global warming was part of a plan for an imminent extraterrestrial takeover of the Earth. (He parodied this side of his career in the famous Ben Stiller-directed, unaired TV pilot Heat Vision and Jack, in which he played a sinister character named Ron Silver whose acting career was a cover for his principal occupation of serving the conspiracy to install a New World Order.) He made his directing debut with the 1993 TV film Lifepod, a sci-fi variation on Hitchcock's Lifeboat. He returned to the courtroom to play Robert Shapiro in American Tragedy, a 2000 O. J. Simpson docudrama written by Norman Mailer, was hilarious as tennis hustler Bobby Riggs in the TV film When Billie Beat Bobby (2001), convincingly dogged as Angelo Dundee in Michael Mann's The Greatest biopic Ali (2001), and reunited with Lumet for Find Me Guilty (2006), yet another fact-based courtroom drama, for which he was upgraded from lawyer to judge.

Silver also had recurring or regular roles on the TV series Chicago Hope, Veronica's Closet, Skin, and The West Wing, where he played a political consultant who, over the course of the show, had a political conversion from left to right. Silver himself experienced his own sea change after September 11, 2001, and became a highly public proponent for his changed views, making the rounds of the TV talk shows, appearing at the 2004 Republican National Convention, and blogging for Pajamas Media. He also narrated FahrenHYPE 9/11 (a 2004 documentary response to Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11, and co-directing, with Kevin Knoblock, the documentary Broken Promises: The United Nations at 60. His last performance was in the 2008 Distant Runners.

See It First: A Shot in the Dark (1964)

Nick Schager — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 20:00:00 GMT

Every week, new films come out. But are you, dear Screengrab readers, ready for them? In this weekly column, I'll be offering up an old-school film recommendation to prepare you for the big screen’s latest and – hopefully – greatest.

This week, anyone interested in buying what The Pink Panther 2 is selling – which, from the looks of things, is Steve Martin's overripe French accent, lots of lame pratfalls, and a bunch of formerly respectable thesps slumming it for an easy payday (Jeremy Irons, what’s become of you?) – will first want to become acquainted with 1964's A Shot in the Dark. Despite being the second of Blake Edwards' Pink Panther films, it’s the first in which comedian par excellence Peter Sellers – relegated to second fiddle in the original, more generic The Pink Panther – was unquestionably front and center. Freewheeling and ridiculous, and featuring not only a great Sellers performance but a borderline-brilliant turn by Herbert Lom as Clouseau’s increasingly exasperated and twitchy superior, it’s a superior sequel that, despite the absence of a substantial plot, an opening animated sequence featuring the titular cat, and even the series' signature theme song, remains a brisk, cheery model of slapstick nonsense and droll wit.

Enjoy this tease, and then fire up that Netflix (fast!)

Clambake: Remembering Elvis Through His Terrible Movies

Scott Von Doviak — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 20:30:00 GMT

Believe it or not, another Elvis anniversary is just around the corner. The King died on his throne on August 16, 1977, so we can at least be thankful it’s not an anniversary with a round number. Nevertheless, some folks will no doubt commemorate the occasion with a trip to Graceland or a nice dinner of peanut butter and banana sammiches. And then there’s Mark Hinson of the Tallahassee Democrat, who remembers the King thusly: “R.I.P., Elvis, but, man, you made some lousy movies.”

Now, I’ve been known to enjoy the occasional Presley picture – who among us can resist the charms of Viva Las Vegas? – and I’ve even known an Elvis movie connoisseur or two in my day. But it’s hard to deny the truth in Hinson’s claim, particularly when he’s willing to back it up in a fashion near and dear to my heart. Namely, sitting through a pile of crappy movies. “Because this year is an odd-number anniversary — and a gallon of gas costs more than a necklace made of unicorn horns — I'm not driving to Memphis this week to stand around in the August heat with my fellow weirdos,” Hinson writes. “Instead, I rented a stack of Elvis movies last weekend and paid tribute to the King with a full day of electrifying Elvis cinema.”

Hinson begins with the “sunny 1964 incest musical” Kissin’ Cousins, in which Elvis tests the limits of his acting chops in a dual role. “The dark-haired Elvis stars as an Air Force officer named Josh who's ordered to smooth talk his opossum-eating Tennessee cousins out of their property because the military wants to use it as a base for nuclear missiles. Elvis also plays Josh's mountain-dwelling cousin, Jodie, a blond-haired lug with a waxy complexion who may be a hillbilly golem… Let's just say it's not as convincing as Jeremy Irons playing identical twins in Dead Ringers.”

The marathon continues with such milestones of cinema as Harum Scarum, Tickle Me, and A Change of Habit, featuring Mary Tyler Moore as an undercover nun, but Hinson saves his highest praise for Clambake, which he dubs a “dung grenade.” I do think he’s a little hard on “Do the Clam” from Girl Happy, however. Judge for yourself:

Related:
Forgotten Films: "Eat the Peach" (1986)
Original Vs. Remake: Ocean's Eleven

No, But I've Read the Movie: LOLITA

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 06 May 2008 21:00:00 GMT

Usually, Hollywood is a tad standoffish about tackling the great novels. If they do it right, they win the admiration of critics, but risk losing the mainstream audience, who will think of their project as snooty and highbrow. If they do it wrong, people still won't go see the movie, plus the critics will turn the whole thing into a laughingstock. Producers are generally willing to let someone take a crack at one of the classics once and only once, and then only if they're an established filmmaker and there's nothing too controversial about the book. How, then, did not one but two movie versions get made of one of the most inflammatory, misunderstood and potentially dangerous books of the 21st century — a book that not only quite openly asks us to identify, to a certain degree, with an effete intellectual pederast, but which was written by one of the pioneers of postmodernism? Some might suggest that certain producers and/or directors simply jump at the chance to cast a movie starring a hot nymphet, but we are not so cynical here at the Screengrab, oh goodness no. We will not speculate how it came to pass that two high-profile film adaptations of Vladimir Nabokov's brilliant, subtle, subversive and daring story came to pass — one of them, by a titan of the silver screen, made less than a decade after the novel's publication and the other, by a flaky British director whose movies have always been a heartbeat away from softcore porn — and instead focus on the respective qualities of the two films.

A lot of people didn't think Lolita would ever make it to the big screen once, let alone twice. For all the pretentious, self-deluding protagonist Humbert Humbert's talk of "nymphets", he is nakedly and, for the most part, blindly and unrepentently a pederast — a dirty old man who chases after young girls and compensates for his failings by passing intellectual judgment on everyone else around him. This was, and is, considered a pretty volatile subject, even considering Hollywood's history of sexualizing young women; indeed, the tagline for the 1962 Stanley Kubrick version of Lolita was "How did they ever make a movie of Lolita?" Part of the answer to that is by soft-pedaling Dolores Haze's age: in the Kubrick film, she's sixteen and in the Adrian Lyne version, she's a year younger — both a level of remove from the highly uncomfortable fact that in Nabokov's novel, she's twelve. Regardless of the controversy that raged (and will probably always continue to rage) around the book, especially from people who haven't read it, Lolita is rightly considered one of the greatest books of the post-war and post-modern era. The films, however, are a touch more difficult to critically assess. Kubrick's 1962 version was well-received at the time, snaring an Oscar nomination and a handful of Golden Globe noms, but has it stood up to the test of time? Adrian Lyne's 1997 edition wasn't expected to be very good, and after a successful run overseas had a hard time finding distribution in the U.S. from controversy-shy studios until it eventually had to debut on cable. Was it better than its reputation? Let's you and me find out.

WHAT THEY HAD: Aside from being directed by a genuine master of the medium, the best thing Kubrick's Lolita had going for it was the coup it scored in getting Nabokov himself to pen the screenplay. If this didn't exactly ensure that it would remain faithful to the book (see below), it would at least ensure that the script wasn't a total wash. It was a gorgeous-looking movie, and with a couple of notable exceptions (see, again, below), the cast was top-notch, even if Peter Sellers was so overblown and overused in his role that a number of commentators (including Nabokov himself) suggested that the movie should be called Quilty. Lyne's version wasn't as assured in terms of filmmaking, largely because Adrian Lyne is worth about one and a half feet of Stanley Kubrick, but it was very stylish, and the always-terrific Jeremy Irons as Humbert was ably matched with the phenomenal Dominique Swain as Lolita. If Swain's career never let her equal this performance, she could at least be proud that she took one of the most difficult roles in modern drama and absolutely nailed it to the wall. Additionally, and to their credit, both films managed to weather the storms of controversy they met with, and although both suffered from studio interference to make the story palatable to sex-shy American tastes, neither was entirely wrecked because of it.

WHAT THEY LACKED: Kubrick's Lolita may have suffered the most; it doesn't hold up well compared to most of his other films, and at times comes across as lifeless and flat on the screen. Sue Lyons is pretty much a disaster as Lolita, having the right look but not even remotely the necessary acting chops, and Shelley Winters sometimes seems completely lost as her mother, Charlotte Haze. Studio tinkering and his own lack of familiarity with the discipline of screenwriting blunted the impact of Nabokov's script, and the whole thing, overall, comes across as one of those noble experiments that you want to like a lot more than you really do — not that it's a bad film by any means, but to call it, as some critics do, a great one is to force yourself to overlook a lot of its flaws. If Lyne's movie succeeded more on its own terms, that's only because no one expected anything out of it in the first place. It's certainly not a great film either, and not even as good a film as Kubrick's, but it didn't have the same high expectations as did a movie with Kubrick and Nabokov's names attached. Lyne wasn't lucky enough to snare Vlad as his writer, the novelist having passed away some twenty years prior, so he mistakenly assumed that if you can't get the guy who wrote Pale Fire, get the guy who wrote The Deep End of the Ocean. He also cast the merely competent Frank Langella in the role previously occupied by the resplendent Peter Sellers, and made the mistake of asking Melanie Griffith to portray a human being, something she has always had trouble with.

DID THEY SUCCEED?: Probably no version of Lolita is ever going to fully succeed; if Vladimir Nabokov himself couldn't pull it off, what chance does Adrian Lyne have? The transcendent value of the novel lies first and foremost in its rich, beautiful use of language, and second in its detailed and subtle crafting of irony; the former comes across on the screen not at all, and the latter, often, quite poorly. Lolita is a book that everyone is always constantly rushing to misinterpret, and looking at the production history of both films, that was clearly the case here; it didn't help much that, in the case of the 1997 version, the foremost misinterpreter of the book was director Adrian Lyne. He not only brought his trashy erotic-thriller sensibilities to a story that didn't need them, but he also seemed to completely miss the point of how funny Lolita is. Whether brought on by his own self-seriousness or a misguided sense of respect for the source material, that's a fatal mistake, and whatever its other flaws, it's not one that Kubrick's 1962 version made. It seems impossible that some future director will gather the courage and resources to take another crack at Lolita and avoid the pitfalls of the previous two versions, but as unlikely as it might be to think that someone will film a third version of the book, who would have ever predicted someone would film it the first time?

Scary Internet: Humbert Humbert Says You're "Wonderful Tonight"

John Constantine — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 16:17:00 GMT

That’s right, the internet is back and it’s more horribly terrifying than ever before! No, the internet never really went away but sometimes it’s less scary. Not so on April 10th, 2008. I mentioned just a couple of days ago that it’s occasionally difficult to separate actors from personae they’ve inhabited on screen. Much like Willem Dafoe, Jeremy Irons is stuck in a few different visages, all of which are disturbing as all hell outside of their proper context. Humbert Humbert, Franz Kafka, twin drug-addicted gynocologists, shitty-Alan Rickman in Die Hard (“Hook, lihne, and sinkah, McClane.”) While this video isn’t from one of Irons’ past or future films, it is him singing Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” in gentle, menacing dulcet tones.

The internet will scare your dad.

Scarlett Johansson Sings! Sings Tom Waits Songs!!

Phil Nugent — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 18:00:00 GMT

If you've maybe gotten a little tired of Scarlett Johansson — she only seems to get a little less appealing and a lot less talented with every movie, and at twenty-three, the number of movies she's been in is far greater than the number of years she's been on our planet — the good news is that she's gotten a hobby. The perhaps not so good news is that her new hobby is singing professionally. Johansson, who will be seen later this year in He's Just Not That Into You — a title that could have applied equally well to audience reactions to The Back Dahlia or The Nanny Diaries — is releasing an album in May. Anywhere I Lay My Head consists of ten Tom Waits covers and an original, which I'm guessing — I'm hoping — will kind of stand out from the rest of the album. Reporting in the UK Independent, David Usborne writes that Johansson promises that the album will have "a dreamy, other-worldly feel," kind of like this post. "It was a really, really sort of inspired process, and it was something I'd never done before," she said. Johansson's only previously recorded work was a version of "Summertime" that appeared on Unexpected Dreams: Songs from the Stars, a benefit record for the Los Angeles Philharmonic's "Music Matters" educational program that also featured musical performances by the likes of Lucy Lawless, Jennifer Garner, Victor Garber, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Ewan McGregor, Teri Hatcher, and Jeremy Irons, whose rendition of Bob Dylan's "To Make You Feel My Love" was hailed by one on-line writer as "less creepy than expected."

The new album was cut in Louisiana, with production by TV on the Radio's Dave Sitek and a crew of musicians that included members of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. If Johansson decides to do a follow-up, and if she really wants to shake things up, she should leave Tom Waits alone and do a concept album of versions of all the aching songs that various admirers and other horndogs have written about her. Scarlett Johansson singing "Scarlett Johansson, Why Don't You Love Me" by the Jai-Alai Savant and the tear-stained songbook of her ex-boyfriend Jack Atinoff, of Steel Train? Might be kind of funny. Of course, that's probably what she once thought about the script for Scoop.

Video of the Day: "Lolita" Screen Test

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 20:45:00 GMT

When Adrian Lyne's 1997 adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov's notorious novel Lolita hit theaters, most of the press attention it received focused on the fact that Lyne, striving for a certain literary verisimilitude, actually cast the then-fifteen-year-old Dominique Swain in the title role rather than handing it to an actress of legal age pretending to be fifteen. It was such a bold, controversial move that it took a lot of people a good long while to notice that, verisimilitude aside, the movie wasn't actually very good, and the hotly debated love scenes between Swain and a decrepit Jeremy Irons were less noteworthy than was some abominable casting decisions (a bored Frank Langella as Clare Quilty and Melanie Griffith in way over her head as Charlotte Haze) and a muddled script. However, this early read-through of said script is worth a peek, if only because, thanks to its cheap, loose video quality and 'your next-door-neighbor's basement' mise-en-scene, it actually comes across as a lot more provocative than the movie itself. (Side note to Screengrab readers who wish to avoid termination and/or imprisonment: do not, under any circumstance, Google "lolita screen test". I am a professional.)