The Screengrab : raiders of the lost ark

Th-Th-That's All Folks! The Best & Worst Endings Of All Time (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 28 May 2009 20:00:00 GMT

So, in case you somehow missed the news, our beloved little blog will be ending at the end of the month, meaning THIS (sniff...sniff...) will be the very LAST of Screengrab’s Thursday lists.

Yet, in the classic words of Supersonic (heavy-rotationed into my very DNA by the good people of alternative radio), “every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end,” which means that while this blog will be pushing up daisies soon, you’ll still be able to get your fix of the Screengrab All-Stars at our new blog, Screengrab-In-Exile, featuring new (if somewhat less frequent) writing and links to writing from the usual gang of idiots...we may even pop up from time to time hereabouts writing for Nerve.com. Meanwhile, all your favorite Screengrab posts will be preserved in amber for future generations at www.thescreengrab.com (and stay tuned for the end of today’s list for links to all our individual websites).

Anyway, I have to say I’ll miss the ol’ place, and I’ve really enjoyed organizing and contributing to these lists. Heck, I’ll even miss getting called a douche by anonymous internet hecklers.

But all good things must come to an end, so once more for auld lang syne, let’s fade out together with THE BEST & WORST ENDINGS OF ALL TIME!!!!!!

DR. STRANGELOVE (1964)

Last week we saluted Slim Pickens’ whooping death trip aboard a nuclear bomb, but of course, that was only the beginning of the end of Dr. Strangelove. There’s no pie fight as Stanley Kubrick had originally planned, but we do get to see the great minds of the War Room contemplating the bright side of nuclear annihilation (10 women for every man!), the continuation of Cold War tension through the end of the world and beyond, and of course, the song we hope will be playing in your head as the Screengrab fades to black: We’ll meet again…don’t know where, don’t know when... (SVD)

THE PASSENGER (1975)

Michelangelo Antonioni’s ennui-drenched cinema reached something of an apex with The Passenger, the tale of a reporter (Jack Nicholson) who, while in Africa on assignment, assumes a dead stranger’s identity to escape the soul-crushing disaffection of his own life. It’s a beguiling pseudo-noir that culminates with one of cinema’s most awe-inspiring shots, a 7-minute single take – in which the camera magically passes through a room’s iron-barred window and then rotates 180-degrees – that expresses the film’s faith-and-philosophy-tinged portrait of the folly of dreaming about escape. (NS)

CARRIE (1976)

The shock ending of Brian De Palma's horror classic provides a hint as to how De Palma got the reputation in some quarters as a rip-off artist: it's a direct steal from the ending of John Boorman's Deliverance, from just four years earlier. But it's also a clear indicator of how De Palma, in the quarters that matter, earned the reputation of a master director: his execution smokes Boorman, whose scene was a bit of a botch. By contrast, De Palma's makes audiences jump as high as anyone has ever managed without installing ejector seats in the theater. (PN)

RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981)

Just a quick word to acknowledge how clever Spielberg was to have the Ark of the Covenant, the holiest of holies, the subject of all of this strife and death, crated and boxed away in an anonymous government warehouse, presumably one of thousands of forgotten treasures. That's a wry sense of humor there. (HC)

CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON (2000)

The best movie endings are the ones that come at great cost, the ones that make us feel that we’ve lived with these characters and that their eventual fate, whatever it is, has been earned. The greatest recent example of this is Ang Lee’s wuxia masterpiece, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. After a truly epic sequence of events, changes of scenery and direction, life, death, moral redirection, and any number of other twists and turns, the young lovers Jen and Lo, hiding out at the Wudan temple, fondly recall their time together in the forbidding, barbaric deserts, where their love had first blossomed. “Make a wish, Lo,” says Jen, in one of the most perfect deliveries of a movie line in modern memory; “I wish that we’ll be in the desert together again,” he replies. Jen then silently hurls herself off the edge of the temple, into the clouds below, suspended first and then flying, calling back to a legend they’d discussed during their desert idyll as Tan Dun’s majestic, gorgeous music plays us to the credits. It’s one of the most romantic endings imaginable, and guaranteed to raise a lump in the throat of all but the coldest viewer – a scene that’s truly earned. (LP)

25TH HOUR (2002)

For most of Spike Lee’s 25th Hour, Monty Brogan (played by Edward Norton) is shown coming to grips with his upcoming incarceration -- saying goodbye to his loved ones, trying to determine who sold him up the river, even asking his best friends to beat the snot out of him so he won’t look like an easy target for prison rape. But just when Monty has more or less accepted his fate, the morning he’s scheduled to make the trip up to prison, his dad James (Brian Cox) meets him for the trip with an alternative -- to escape and start a new life. Over the next ten minutes, James paints a beautiful picture of this way out -- go West, find a little town in the desert, get a new identity, and so on -- and with Terence Blanchard’s elegiac score playing behind him, the plan is as tempting as it is far-fetched. But there’s a steep price for this escape, as Monty could never return to his old life. And so, the central theme of the movie snaps sharply into focus -- the choices we all must make in life. James is prepared for the possibility of never seeing his son again as long as he knows he’ll be okay, but is Monty ready to give up everything he knows for freedom? As we see him passing all those New Yorkers he once railed against, now smiling at him and seeing him off, we wonder if he can sacrifice his past to save his future. And just when he’s come to the end of his imagined life, all of a sudden he snaps back to his real one, back in the car on the road to destiny, and Lee’s camera lingers once again on Norton’s face. The choice is yours, Monty. (PC)

Click Here For Part Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven & Twelve

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Scott Von Doviak, Nick Schager, Phil Nugent, Hayden Childs, Paul Clark, Leonard Pierce

Morning Deal Report: Kirsten Dunst is a Jealous Ghost

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Its title makes A Jealous Ghost sound a lot like too many recent rom-coms about the recently deceased haunting their exes, like Over Her Dead Body or Ghost Town, due out Friday. That’s apparently not the case, however, as The Hollywood Reporter describes the upcoming Kirsten Dunst vehicle as a “literary horror movie.” Dunst will play “a young American woman who travels to London to write a dissertation on Henry James' classic ghost tale, The Turn of the Screw, only to find that her own circumstances begin to reflect the strange happenings of the story.”

Michael Douglas is keeping busy. In addition to his upcoming turn as Liberace for Steven Soderbergh, he’ll play “a car magnate with a runaway libido” in Solitary Man. That sounds more his speed. Per Variety, Susan Sarandon, Danny DeVito and Jenna Fischer are in talks to co-star.

Nicole Kidman is attached to The Eighth Wonder, which “centers on an archeological discovery that sets off a globe-spanning race.” Quoth The Hollywood Reporter: “The goal is to create a movie that will be to Raiders of the Lost Ark what the Bourne movies are to James Bond movies: a character-driven, treasure-hunting thriller.” Isn’t that what the Tomb Raider movies were supposed to be? Well, apart from the “character-driven” part, I guess. Those were more boobies-and-shorts-driven.

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Chick Hits: The Girl Power Top Ten

Chick Hits: The Girl Power Top Ten (Part 2)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 20:15:00 GMT

ERIN BROCKOVICH (2000)

Julia Roberts’ breakthrough film, Pretty Woman (about the magical romantic possibilities of being a whore) was a monster hit, if not exactly a high water mark in the history of feminism (be sure to look for it on our upcoming Girl Dis-Empowering Top Ten). Erin Brockovich, meanwhile, was the flipside of the equation: a realistically desperate woman who succeeds in spite of, rather than because of her prominent cleavage...and in this quasi-true story, the prize at the end of the fairy tale isn’t a rich millionaire, but a million dollars the single-mother-turned-investigative-paralegal earns for herself (as a bonus from Albert Finney's lawyer/mentor Ed Masry) through brains and tenacity during the course a battle royale with an evil...uh, utility company. And talk about empowering: Roberts went on to win an Oscar for Best Actress, she and director Steven Soderbergh got to hang out with George Clooney and screenwriter Susannah Grant went on to write and direct...Catch and Release with Jennifer Garner and Kevin Smith. Which must have been nice for her.

ALIENS (1986)

There were kick-ass female action heroes before Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, of course. Sigourney Weaver in the original Alien comes to mind, for instance, as does Linda Hamilton in the original Terminator, Karen Allen in Raiders of the Lost Ark and so on and so forth, all the way back to real life ass-kickers like Elizabeth I, Joan of Arc and Cleopatra. But the Ripley of James Cameron’s Aliens really redefined the female action star for the modern age. For one thing, she’s the star of the movie, and she’s tough all the way through, taking command of a doomed rescue mission to an alien infested colony when the indecisive (male) space marine commander in charge of the mission literally falls down on the job, then later rescuing her man-sel in distress potential love interest, Michael Biehn’s Corporal Dwayne Hicks. But Weaver’s heroine isn’t just a muscled, monosyllabic Rambo with tits: she’s a deeply human character who draws superhuman strength not from extra testosterone or the bite of a radioactive spider, but from the sweet maternal bond she forms with an orphaned girl in the midst of all the gunplay and explosions of the masculine world...at least, that is, until David Fincher went and fucked everything up in Alien 3...but I’ll save that rant until our Top Ten list of great movies with incredibly aggravating unnecessary sequels.

MEAN GIRLS (2004)

Mean Girls began with a book by Rosalind Wiseman, Queen Bees and Wannabes, about high school social hierarchies and how they shape the lives of those who pass before them. It is a serious journalistic-sociological study, which apparently came as a bit of a surprise to Tina Fey after she agreed to take on the job of adapting it into a movie. Fey, who appears in the movie as the math teacher Ms. Norbury, came up with a story about Cady (Lindsay Lohan), who moves to Chicago and enters her first American public school at 16 after being home-schooled in Africa by parents who emphasize the value of learning, and so has to endure the culture shock of discovering that "education" in the States is all about bureaucratic rules on one side and social anxiety and status on the other. Out of a mixture of anthropological fascination and a half-conscious but real desire to fit in, Cady "infiltrates" the top clique of pretty girls -- a process that involves her pretending to be dumber than she is in order to snare a boy she likes -- and begins to maneuver her way to the lead position by outbitching them in ways that suggest a Machiavellian Heather. The movie's official mouthpiece is Fey's Ms. Norbury, who ultimately gets Cady to embrace her better side by forcibly inducting her into the school's "Mathletes" team. She also has a strange but deeply felt scene where she hustles all the girls together in the gym and lectures them about why they behave the way they do and why it's not good, though the whole point of Cady's character would seem to be that it's possible to know all that and still find the seductive pull of the status sirens impossible to resist. A mere four years since its release, the most poignant thing about Mean Girls now may be that it serves as a reminder of a more innocent time when it was possible to cast Lindsay Lohan as a sensitive brainiac who, after a brief slumming phase, manages to get herself under control.

WAITING TO EXHALE (1995)

This episodic drama about the rocky-but-hopeful romantic lives of four black women in Phoenix (get it, Greek mythology buffs?) shocked the shit out of the industry by becoming one of the major sleeper hits of the '90s. It also surprised movie critics, who tended to notice that it kind of sucks. It's also arguable whether it merits inclusion in any discussion of movies with positive female role models: all of the members of its central quartet come across as a little brain-damaged, and not just because of how eager they are to define themselves as failures or successes depending on whether they've managed to land a man. (The director, Forest Whitaker, managed to wangle some money from HBO after the premiere of Sex and the City, claiming that the network had ripped him off, and it's true that the movie shares most of what's objectionable about the TV show.) But the public embrace of the movie, and the way it cowed professional opinion makers, marks some kind of landmark moment in empowering the audience, especially if you define empowerment as doing the hucksters' jobs for them. Viewers who loved the movie, especially black women, hit back at criticism of it so hard that newspapers and magazines actually started publishing editorials and what amounted to counter-reviews denouncing the people who had been so insensitive to the entertainment needs of those who wanted overplayed, demented soap operas geared to their own demographic group. The movie helped get a number of movies starring black women greenlit, but its real lasting influence can best be seen in the critical reaction to a movie like Dreamgirls, which inspired many mumbly, mealy-mouthed reviews by writers who clearly thought that it stank but also thought that it was going to be another phenomenon and were afraid of being seen as coming down too hard on the wrong side of it. For an example of what this looks like in practice, compare the Dreamgirls review that Slate critic Dana Stevens wrote when the movie was released , and her review of Hairspray, where she led off by revealing what she really thought of Dreamgirls -- six months later, when she thought no one was looking. Waiting to exhale can take many forms.

PERSEPOLIS (2007)

It’s one thing to talk about how women are empowered by watching the adventures of a fictional female space marine, lady cop, or teenage devil-slayer. But it’s quite another to consider the triumph over sexism and oppression represented in the animated big-screen adaptation of Marjane Satrapi’s beautiful, powerful graphic novel, Persepolis. Satrapi was born in Iran, not too long before the Islamic revolution against the corrupt and brutal Shah by the fundamentalist Ayatollahs. Her father was a respected civil engineer and her mother was an international journalist – living symbols of the new, modernized Iran that hoped to take its place among the elite nations. This aspiration was crushed with the Islamic revolution and the subsequent war with Iran, both of which Satrapi lived through as she and the women of her family (liberated all, three generations back) struggled to adjust to a new reality where they could be imprisoned for letting too much of their faces show in public. She managed to escape to Europe, but it was never home to her, and she eventually returned, hoping to balance her need to be in the country that was her true home with her need to be respected and taken seriously as a woman. Satrapi has always made it a point to illustrate the fact that there is more to Iran than the caricature of out-of-control religious fundamentalists, and in the scene where Satrapi, as a college art student, stands up to a panel of men who insist that her education take a back seat to their sexist dogma, it gives a stirring picture of a country that bristles at its every restriction.

Click here for Part One!

Related Posts: Girl DisemPowering: Nine Films That Didn't Do Feminism Any Favors (Part One & Part Two)

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce

Taverns on the Screen: The Top Ten Barroom Scenes of Cinema (Part Deux)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 20:30:00 GMT

RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981)

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is a fine example of the way lazy, excessive reliance on ridiculous CGI (and CGI monkeys) can ruin an otherwise passable movie. And there’s no finer argument for the good ol’ fashioned non-CGI pleasures of real world filmmaking than the Nepalese bar sequence in the original Raiders of the Lost Ark. To recap: winsome badass Karen Allen (oh, Hollywood, HOW did you ever let her get away?) drinks a yak-herder under the table, then her flaky ex-boyfriend shows up while she’s all full o’ rotgut and she slaps him in the face and sends him on his way. And THEN, creepy Nazi torturer Toht (a.k.a. Mr. Melty-Face) shows up with a bunch of evil minions and things really get interesting. What follows is a master class in cinematic action, pacing, camera placement, stuntwork, pyrotechnics, performance and editing...all without a bluescreen (or hangover) in sight.

ON_LINE (2002)

Okay, so maybe I’m biased, given that I co-wrote this one (with director Jed Weintrob), but I’ve always had a soft spot for the scene in this under-the-radar internet sex comedy where neurotic shut-in John (Josh Hamilton) goes to an odious, overpriced Manhattan nightclub on a disastrous double-date with Jordan (Vanessa Ferlito), the wild cybersex enthusiast he picked up on the internet, his oversexed roommate, Moe (Harold Perrineau, Jr.) and Moe’s pill-popping, manic-depressive girlfriend (Isabel Gillies). But don’t take my word for it: in a Salon review that (almost but not quite) made up for any number of really quite nasty reviews of the film, the extremely cultured and discerning Andrew O'Hehir summed up the appeal of the scene thusly: “John's nightclub internal monologue, as he watches Jordan dance and reflects on how hot she is, how shallow he is for thinking that and how little chance he has of actually getting in her pants in the off-line world, is probably the movie's high point.” Thanks, Mr. O’Hehir...I couldn’ t have said it better myself!

BLAZING SADDLES (1974)

Before that dastardly Hedley Lamar (played with nefarious gusto by the late Harvey Korman) decided to run the railroad through it, the hamlet of Rock Ridge in Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles had everything an Old West town needed: a church, a hoosegow for when Mongo came to town, and proximity to the Hollywood Hills. And, of course, it had its own saloon. But unlike most of the filthy, rowdy joints in the history of westerns, this particular saloon was always kept nice and clean, thanks to the stewardship of the unfortunately named Anal Johnson. All that came to an end, however, with the arrival of the Teutonic songbird Lili von Shtupp, played with Dietrichian élan by the Oscar-nominated Madeline Kahn. Lili’s world-weary act, sweet set of curves, and foul-mouthed stage patter (“Why don’t you get your friggin’ feet off the stage?”) brings every rough rider in the county, but it’s her love of that delicious schnitzengruben that leads Lamar to hire her to seduce and abandon Bart, the new sheriff in town. In one of the most memorable scenes ever set in an Old West saloon, Lili sighs out “I’m Tired” before being carried off, James Brown-style, by her backup dancers and deposited in the arms of Sheriff Bart – who, it turns out, has more schnitzengruben than she can handle.

THE NINTH CONFIGURATION (1980)

It’s a scene we’ve watch play out a million times in a million action movies: a nameless bar in the middle of nowhere is taken over by a generic group of bikers, who wreak havoc in the place until they push the wrong guy just a little bit too far. But William Peter Blatty’s disturbing cult hit The Ninth Configuration is no typical action movie, and the bar fight won’t play out in a typical way. The set-up to the scene is more complex than it seems: mentally disturbed former astronaut Billy Cutshaw (Scott Wilson), disillusioned that sensitive psychiatrist Col. Vincent Kane (Stacy Keach) has turned out to be a blood-soaked Marine Corps commando, escapes from an asylum and seeks refuge in liquor at the nameless biker bar. A combination of booze, despair and a smart mouth enrages the boss bikers (the unstable brute Stanley and the cunning, sadistic Richard, played by the gaunt, devil-faced Richard Lynch), who abuse Cutshaw until Kane arrives to rescue him. Kane, who has forsaken violence and taken up the mantle of the caring, well-meaning shrink in order to bury his own murderous past, attempts to come to a peaceful resolution, but finally he can take no more. The scene that follows is one of the most stunning bar fights every captured on film – although to call it a fight ignores what truly happens: Kane utterly annihilates the biker gang in a matter of seconds, killing a number of them. It’s an astonishing scene, and even more astonishing is the fact that it’s not even the climax of The Ninth Configuration.

THE FRENCH CONNECTION (1971)

In an audio commentary track recorded for the French Connection DVD, Gene Hackman described Eddie Egan, the real-life model for Hackman's obsessed narc "Popeye" Doyle, as having been "flippant" to a degree that he'd never encountered before in a human being. It's easy to imagine the conversation among the patrons of the Harlem bar that Popeye raids after he's stormed in and out like a hurricane: "That fellow was certainly flippant, wasn't he? I'm a fervent supporter of our boys in blue, but speaking as an amateur observer of the law enforcement process, I can't help feeling that some of that flippancy was unwarranted! Here, help me tie off this tourniquet?" The raid, which is actually a cover for a meeting in the men's room between Popeye and an informant, establishes Popeye's adversarial relationship to the city's civilian population, his casual racism, and the gleefully sadistic tinge to his brutality. (Obliged to rough up his informant so that no one will suspect the guy is a rat, Popeye asks him, "Where do you want it?" The man thinks about it for a second and points to his right cheek, and Popeye slugs him on his left. The blow looks hard enough to crack the guy's jaw, but this is Popeye when he's just playing.) In a recent interview in Reason, Ed Burns, the twenty-year veteran of the Baltimore Police Department turned TV writer whose HBO series The Wire dismantled the logic behind the nation's "war on drugs", called the scene "iconic" and blamed it for instilling the wrong mindset in a generation of cops by "put[ting] out the idea of this guy who cracks heads," Popeye set police work back by reinforcing the idea that cops should act like swaggering badasses instead of establishing a functional relationship with their communities. So if you're a fan of The Wire -- a not uncommon condition among Screengrab writers -- then give it up for Popeye Doyle; without him, The Wire might not have been necessary.

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Screengrab Pub Crawl - The Top 15 Bars of Cinema (Part Two)

Screengrab Pub Crawl - The Top 15 Bars of Cinema (Part Three)

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Leonard Pierce, Phil Nugent

Screengrab Rant: Indiana Jones in 2008

Peter Smith — Fri, 23 May 2008 19:00:00 GMT

I think we can all agree that Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of the greatest adventure films ever made. Its two sequels, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade both have some serious flaws. Temple of Doom is shrill, silly, arguably racist and saddled with an atrocious love interest; Last Crusade is a hammy rehash of Raiders where the jokes are all broader and the characters are all stupider. But they have their moments. As I sit here trying to review Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, I just can't muster the enthusiasm. Crystal Skull, sadly, makes Temple of Doom and Last Crusade look like, well, Raiders of the Lost Ark.

In fairness, it's hard to imagine a fourth Indy movie being particularly good at this point, for reasons that become all-too-clear in the first fifteen minutes of Crystal Skull. With Harrison Ford twenty years older than he was in Last Crusade, the film couldn't be credibly set in the '30s. Thus, Crystal Skull takes place in 1957. Divorced from his pre-war milieu — an era when lost cities and ancient artifacts could plausibly still be hiding off the map — Indy looks sad and out-of-place. He's a great, iconic character, but a lot of the power of that iconography comes from its pre-World-War-II context. There's something jarring about watching a fedora-clad Ford in an Eisenhower-era suburb.

And speaking of that suburb, into which Indy stumbles at the beginning of Crystal Skull — well, it's a test site, and our man is about to get nuked. Sure, the Indiana Jones movies have always been frantically action-packed, but Steven Spielberg used to know how to build to a climax. That the hero survives a nuclear test in the first fifteen minutes says something about the filmmakers' lack of restraint. That lack of restraint (and I know, "restraint" and "Spielberg" don't always go together, but look again at the pitch-perfect balance of Raiders ) is also apparent in Skull's comedy, which is as precious as Last Crusade's and clumsily executed to boot. Watch for a sequence wherein Shia LaBeouf, as Indy's son (by no means the worst part of the film, contrary to fan expectations) rescues his father from a pit of quicksand. . . by using a snake as a rope. Indiana Jones hates snakes, remember? (I'm guessing this was George Lucas's idea.) Ford mugs through this scene like no one fetched him his Metamucil; in fact, for the whole movie, despite being remarkably fit for a sixty-five-year-old, he's given little to do. At the big finale, he pretty much gets out of the way. As for the father-son relationship, given that it's one of Spielberg's favorite tropes, it's remarkable how little resonance he gets out of it.

But again, resonance may have been a lost cause, given the constraints of setting. I can think of only one way Crystal Skull might've worked. Don't ignore the problems — embrace them. Instead of making Indy's age and the time period a relative non-issue after the obligatory gags about crankiness, make the movie about his age. Make it about the loss of the pre-war world. Where the other Indiana Jones movies end with supernatural cataclysms, scrap the ludicrous ending of Crystal Skull (the titular skull is an alien's, and I'll say no more) and end with the film's one memorable image — the old adventurer, silhouetted against a mushroom cloud. A man out of time, faced with a technology orders of magnitude more destructive than any cursed artifact he could ever dig up. That might be a bit of a downer, but it'd mean something. And I'm sorry to say it, but unlike its motley bunch of predecessors, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull doesn't mean much of anything.

In(dy) Other Blogs

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 23 May 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Because the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull has been so criminally overlooked by the mainstream media, it’s been up to the blogosphere to pick up the slack. As Paul Clark tipped you in his revisitation of the Temple of Doom, Cerebral Mastication is the hub of Indy blogdom, so a tip of the well-worn fedora to Ali Arikan for the centralized linkage.

The House Next Door offers a three-fer, looking back at all three previous Indiana Jones movies. Matt Zoller Seitz emerges from semi-retirement to offer his own thoughts on Temple of Doom, which he says “has the series' simplest plot, most annoying love interest, most casually racist and imperialist attitudes and most grotesque imagery (Doom and its summer-of-'84 blockbuster cousin, the Spielberg-produced Gremlins, sparked the creation of a new MPAA rating, PG-13). At the same time, though, it's the most viscerally intense entry in the series and the most wide-ranging in its moods, spotlighting the imaginations of Spielberg and his co-producer, George Lucas, at their most freewheeling. It's a blast from the id—like Close Encounters, 1941, E.T. and A.I, a rare instance of the director appearing to construct images and situations for his own private reasons, rather than keeping his eyes and ears attuned for signs of viewer discontent.”

At Edward Copeland on Film, David Gaffen has narrowed his focus to a single scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark – the one “where Indiana Jones, realizing that the Ark of the Covenant is to be placed on a plane and flown out of Egypt, sets out to sabotage the plane.” Gaffen proceeds shot-by-shot to dissect the workings of a signature action sequence. “The escalation here is deliberate – slowly ratchet up the tension within a scene that is already filled with active movement, derivative of Hitchcock in its cleverness even if Spielberg still names the 1950s serials as his original inspiration. The elements added in are small, careful ones – a shot of the wing grazing a nearby fuel truck, which spills gasoline. Just as the large German was introduced as a potential opponent this is presented as a problem, the proverbial gun in Act I that has to be fired in Act II.”

At Cinema Styles, Jonathan Lapper is trying to get excited about this whole thing. “A lot can change in 27 years. That's how long it's been since the original Raiders of the Lost Ark and it's been nearly two decades since the last one, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Look at it this way: Two of the biggest adventure hits of 1954 were 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and The Naked Jungle. Now imagine Kirk Douglas and Charlton Heston making sequels to those movies in 1981, 27 years later. By 1981 the movie landscape was decidedly different than it was in 1954 and 2008 is decidedly different than 1981. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't sense the excitement about a new Indiana Jones film like I did in the eighties. When the other two sequels were released they, like the Star Wars sequels The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, were the summer movies to see. Now Indiana Jones is practically lost in the shuffle.”

Cinematical has a week’s worth of Indy stuff on offer. They’ve got us covered for List-o-Mania this week with Seven Indiana Jones Knock-Offs. Number one is Tomb Raider: “It's like all the initial three Indiana Jones films wrapped up in one, with added sex appeal in casting Angelina Jolie in the Harrison Ford role. Yet Jolie as Croft is too serious to be the female counterpart to Ford's Indy. Also, while the Indiana Jones films deal with some level of magically religious fantasy, they're at least grounded by ‘real’ or familiar artifacts such as the Holy Grail and the Ark of the Covenant. And they tend to remain just realistic enough to avoid things like giant six-armed statues that come to life.”

Remember those kids who made the shot-for-shot remake of Raiders back in the 80s? Well, they’ve hit the big time – sort of. According to Underwire, “On May 14, eight days before the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, now-grown filmmakers Chris Strompolos, Eric Zala and Jayson Lamb will showcase their movie at the landmark Mann's Chinese Theater. But the guys who made it won't see a dime. ‘Due to copyright issues, revenue from the screenings of our film must go to a nonprofit organization,’ said Strompolos…While Adaptation can't be screened for profit, the DIY back story has turned into a moneymaker for Strompolos, Zala and Lamb. Big-shot movie producer Scott Rudin (There Will Be Blood) purchased rights to their real-life filmmaking adventures and hired Daniel Clowes (Ghost World) to write the script for Paramount Pictures.”

Yesterday's Hits: Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984, Steven Spielberg)

Paul Clark — Tue, 20 May 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Written for the Indiana Jones Blogathon at Cerebral Mastication.

When it comes to enduring popularity, most of the films I’ve written about so far for Yesterday’s Hits have fallen by the wayside. They had their moments of glory, but now they’ve been cast aside in favor of films that have either aged better or simply had the good luck not to wear out their welcome too soon. By contrast, this week’s entry is a movie I’m guessing almost everyone here has seen, and which I’d venture to guess most of you own on DVD. Yet Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom often seems to be treated as the odd man out in the Indiana Jones franchise. In conjunction with this week’s release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, I’ve tried to figure out why exactly this is the case.

What made Temple of Doom a hit?: Talk about a silly question. Raiders of the Lost Ark was the biggest hit of 1981, a hugely popular adventure that turned a whip-cracking archeologist into one of the truly iconic Hollywood characters. Raiders was a rarity, a movie with almost universal appeal, with plenty of action, a hint of romance, evil Nazi villains, far-flung locations, and a hero audiences would follow to the ends of the Earth. So it was inevitable that director Steven Spielberg, producer George Lucas, and star Harrison Ford would bring the character back to the big screen, and nearly as inevitable that the film would scare up a lot of business. And that it did, becoming the #2 hit of 1984, trailing only Ghostbusters.

What happened?: One of the cardinal rules of sequels is that it’s difficult to live up to the original, doubly so when the original film is as great and beloved as Raiders of the Lost Ark. Sure, it happens on occasion, but how often? So despite Temple’s box office, it was almost a foregone conclusion that it couldn’t match the popularity of its predecessor. Audiences still loved Dr. Jones all right, with two more sequels still to come, but most viewers today see Temple merely as a fun, well-crafted thrill ride, rather than the classic Raiders is.

Does Temple of Doom still work?: All in all, the critical rep for the film isn’t far off. Spielberg’s skill at generating excitement is as keen here as ever, but overall the film lacks the charm of Raiders. Part of the blame rests on the shoulders of Ford, who doesn’t appear to expend much effort in his performance. Especially in his early scenes, Ford seems to be acting while hung over, so bland and flat does he appear onscreen. Eventually he comes alive, around the time the action starts, but Temple was the first sign of the sluggishness that would begin to creep into his performances more and more over the next two decades.

Perhaps the most frequent criticism of the film is Kate Capshaw’s performance as Willie, and I’ve got to say I’m in full agreement with the naysayers. Granted, Capshaw isn’t entirely to blame- Willie is an extremely thin character, her distinguishing characteristics being that she’s (a) Indy’s designated love interest, and (b) not Marion. But Capshaw herself doesn’t help matters. Most of her performance consists of shrieking, whining, and bitching at Indy, but Capshaw is too prosaic onscreen to make any of it work. She’s got no style, and not much charisma. And when an actress can’t even manage to deliver the line “are you crazy?” and make it sound convincing, there’s something wrong.

But while many people are prone to criticizing Indy’s pal Short Round (Ke Huy Quan), I have to admit I’ve always liked the little guy. Whereas Willie’s presence seems to be dictated by the film’s need to have some kind of female lead, the real love story in the film is the mentor/sidekick relationship between Indy and Shorty. Look at the way Spielberg frames these two together- time and again we see Short Round patterning his behavior after his idol, and it’s he, not Willie, who ends up having to save Dr. Jones when all seems lost. True, he’s given a little too much cutesy dialogue (“hold on to your potatoes!”), but the love he has for Indy is genuinely moving in spots, and he actually gets some fighting of his own to do, while Willie stands on the sidelines and punches at the air.

When I was younger, I always found it odd that Indiana Jones would take time to hunt for a bunch of stones after he’d already discover the Ark of the Covenant. But while the MacGuffin of Temple of Doom lacks the built in mystique of Raiders’ object of desire, the relatively small-scaled quest ultimately suits the film’s storyline. The Ark is an archeological milestone, so naturally the man who found it would want to go down in history. By contrast, Temple finds its hero setting out for “fortune and glory” only to discover a more important cause to fight for in the end. Faced with personal gain, he instead decides to do the right thing to save others. It’s an old story, but done right it still works, and Spielberg and company make it work.

And of course, it’s still exciting as hell. For all the awkwardness present in the 80 minutes of the story, the last 40 minutes more than compensate. But what really puts these scenes over is how brutal they are at times. Temple of Doom is often remembered as the film that helped bring about the PG-13 rating, and even today it’s surprising how hard-hitting and violent the film is in spots. I don’t think this is an accident. Spielberg, coming off blockbusters like Raiders and E.T., was becoming ill at ease with being Hollywood’s resident family entertainer, and his darker impulses come through loud and clear in Temple of Doom. For every funny animal trick we see, there’s a genuinely scary or disturbing bit that makes its mark (Mola Ram scared me way more than Toht when I was little). And while this mishmash of tones doesn’t always work, it’s nonetheless fascinating to see. As a stepping stone in Spielberg’s attempts to grow from the blockbuster king into the cinematic Elder Statesman we know him as today, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom is an key work, something one couldn’t have known way back in 1984.

All-Night Mockbuster Marathon

Scott Von Doviak — Mon, 12 May 2008 18:30:00 GMT

It’s time for another all-night marathon, so put on a pot of coffee, find the sweet spot on the couch and join me for a nocturnal journey into the shadowy world of the mockbuster. (If you’re not sure what a mockbuster is, here’s a handy primer.)

12 midnight. We begin with the latest mockbuster from the good people at the Asylum, Allan Quatermain and the Temple of Lost Skulls. I’ll bet you can guess which blockbuster-in-waiting occasioned the release of this one. Although the character of Allan Quatermain actually predates the creation of Indiana Jones by nearly a century, his reappearance now is a case of history repeating itself. Temple of Skulls is based on H. Rider Haggard’s 1885 novel King Solomon’s Mines, as was the 1985 film starring Richard Chamberlain, a mockbuster before they had a word for it. (Back then, we charitably called it a Raiders of the Lost Ark ripoff.) This doesn’t stop the producers from claiming that Allan Quatermain inspired Indiana Jones, which is partially true but certainly misleading in this context. In any case, there is no temple of skulls in the movie, so you can bet it was retitled once Lucasfilm announced the name of the latest Indiana Jones flick. Anyway, as Temple of Skulls begins, two rugged prospector types in South Africa find the map to King Solomon’s mines. Not trusting each other, they split it in half to ensure they’ll stick together. Shortly thereafter they are attacked by Zulus and the map pieces blow away. Some time later, rugged great white hunter Quatermain (Sean Michael) gets his hands on one half.

12:20 am. I’m trying to figure out when this movie is set. We’ve got coal-burning trains, ladies in frilly frocks, black dudes in hip-hop hats and Nazi references. So I guess…some time in the last 70 years or so? Anyway, Quatermain has teamed up with Sir Henry and Lady Anna, a wealthy couple with the other half of the map. They are being pursued by Quatermain’s arch-nemesis, a scenery chewer straight out of an old Hammer horror movie.

12:30 am. Here we have a five-mile-an-hour chase between a truck and a locomotive engine. It’s like someone stuck a Monty Python sketch in the middle of the movie.

12:45 am. Our heroes dodge CGI bugs, then encounter a (real) rhino. This scene is edited Survivor-style; we have no idea if the rhino is even in the same hemisphere as Quatermain and the gang.

1:00 am. In fine National Geographic tradition, Quatermain and company are captured by bare-breasted natives. There is a bizarre CGI Zulu head-removal ritual.

1:15 am. I was expecting pretty much constant action and zero plot from Temple of Skulls, but that’s not actually the case. For all I know, it’s a reasonably faithful adaptation. I must give the Asylum credit for scenery at least; the movie is purty to look at.

1:40 am. Let us move on to King of the Lost World, another literary adaptation posing as a recent blockbuster. It’s loosely based on A. Conan Doyle’s The Lost World, with the addition of “King” to the title and a picture of a big scary ape on the cover to fool drunk people at Blockbuster into renting it. The box also trumpets an appearance by Bruce Boxleitner – star of Scarecrow and Mrs. King! Well, that’ll bring the kids into the tent. Anyway, King opens with a plane crashing onto an island, announcing its intentions to rip off not only King Kong and Jurassic Park but also Lost. This is confirmed when we see a stewardess trapped up in a tree. Three minutes into the movie, a giant gorilla snatches her. We won’t be seeing him again for a while.

2:00 am. Giant bug attack!

2:10 am. There’s a glitch in the DVD and I have to jump ahead five minutes, at which point maggots are being used to heal a woman’s wound. So glad I didn’t miss that.

2:25 am. Our heroes find a fighter jet with an active nuke. The mysterious Bruce Boxleitner knows how to hot-wire it.

2:40 am. Things are happening now! One dude gets impaled by a giant scorpion. The others are taken hostage by skull-face painted natives. There are boobies! And lesbian natives!

2:50 am. A flurry of terrible CGI: we’ve got pterodactyls, plus the giant ape finally returns, though he looks blurry and pixilated. (Another reason CGI must die: think about how much progress in giant robot ape technology could have been made by now.) Boxleitner reveals he was sent to disarm the nuke, which really makes no sense, especially once he explains that the bomb has a limited range of 300 yards. Anyway, they blow up the ape real good. Okay, I’m lying. It’s not real good.

3:00 am. It’s time for The Da Vinci Treasure. Here’s how you know these folks at the Asylum aren’t completely shameless: the film concerns a forensic archeologist and his search for the Da Vinci codex. See – they could have called this The Da Vinci Codex! Maybe they didn’t quite have the grapes for that (though they did make The Transmorphers, unreviewed here – I’ve got my limits too, junior.)

3:15 am. Anyway, the main players here are a haggard C. Thomas Howell as our hero Michael Archer, an earring-sporting Lance Henriksen as the villainous Dr. John Coven, and Nicole Sherwin as your typically hot linguist/theologian. Throughout the movie, director Peter Mervis (Snakes on a Train) employs an annoying effect that kept making me think there was something wrong with my DVD player. It’s a sort of freeze-frame/flash/jumpcut deal – like someone mentions Jesus, and suddenly there’s a flash of light, a whoosh, quick shots of a crucifix and the Last Supper, and then back to the scene. I guess this pumps up the excitement level, as if looking for hidden clues on the Shroud of Turin weren’t exciting enough!

3:20 am. We have our first mention of the Knights Templar! Also, the Shroud of Turin is apparently kept in the basement of the Alamo.

3:30 am. And Da Vinci invented 3-D glasses, in case you were wondering.

3:45 am. In what must be the most expensive scene in any of these Asylum movies, there is a smash-em-up car chase through the streets of London (or San Diego, whatever) involving a tour bus. Fortunately they didn’t have to pay the guy playing the Casio on the soundtrack too much.

4:15 am. Apparently I nodded off during the big revelation scene in The Da Vinci Treasure. I’m sure it changed the face of Christianity forever, but there’s no time to go back! Let’s wrap this up with an old school mockbuster to cleanse the palate, shall we? Of course I’m talking about 1988’s timeless E.T. ripoff, Mac and Me. We begin on another planet, where a family of aliens is accidentally sucked into the vacuum hose of a rover from Earth. The aliens, I guess, are meant to be cute, but to me they look like giant sea monkeys or very confused burn victims.

4:30 am. After the alien family is brought to Earth, the smallest alien, or Mysterious Alien Creature, or MAC (you see?), hitches a ride with a single mother and her two sons moving to California. They don’t notice him, but he keeps getting into mischief, and the youngest, wheelchair-bound brother Eric keeps getting blamed for it.

4:45 am. Eric plummets off a cliff in his wheelchair and is rescued by Mac. When he tells the doctor what happened, the doc diagnoses him with “schizofreakia” and decides to dope him up. Ah, the 80s.

5:00 am. Breakdancing! At McDonald’s! With Ronald McDonald and football players and – don’t take my word for it, see for yourself:

5:15 am. By now everyone believes Mac exists, and they help reunite him with his family members, who are trapped in a mineshaft out by those windmills from Rain Man. The kids nurse the aliens back to life with nourishing sips of Coca-Cola. I tell ya, this movie is Morgan Spurlock’s worst nightmare.

5:30 am. Of course, government agents are in hot pursuit of Mac, and in their attempts to capture him they manage to blow up an entire mall and kill Eric in the process. Fortunately, Mac and his family are able to suck the death right out of him. Apparently the aliens don’t hold their ill treatment by the agents against their government, as the movie concludes with the whole family becoming U.S. citizens. A final ominous title card claims “We’ll Be Back.” We’re still waiting. And by “we,” I mean “not me.” Good night.

Previously: All-Night Bigfoot Movie Marathon

That Guy!: John Rhys-Davies

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 14:30:00 GMT

Genre films are something of a trap for actors and actresses. One memorable role in a movie franchise beloved by one flavor of geek or another, and they're pretty much set for life -- as long as sequels keep getting made, they'll keep getting steady work, and the sun will set on their acting careers about five weeks after they die. On the other hand, as long as they're best known for genre parts, those are the parts they're likely to keep getting ad infinitum; there's a reason it's called the genre ghetto. Unfortunately, actors who take up residence there are awfully reluctant to leave because the paychecks are good, but they soon find out it's not easy even when they decide to move to a ritzier neighborhood. More than a few actors of some talent and range have found themselves, after cashing in off of a big genre-character role, being judged for the rest of their careers not on how well they can act, but how well they can still fit into their old costumes. Such an actor is the big, hearty Welshman John Rhys Davies: a man of impressive range and flawless credentials playing the classics on stage, his portrayal of a handful of unforgettable characters in sci-fi and fantasy films has somewhat derailed his career while at the same time ensuring that he'll always have work. He's gone from being the poor man's Brian Blessed to being one of the innumerable people who pays for his house by spending half the year in New Zealand filming syndicated sci-fi television shows.

It wasn't always this way for John Rhys-Davies. He started out in theater (as did his childhood friend and sometime co-star, Patrick Stewart -- an actor who is in a similarly precarious predicament, career-wise) and has an extensive background in Shakesperian productions of great acclaim. But aside from the movie roles listed below that launched him to wide, if not deep, fame, he likewise co-starred in the 1990s cult sci-fi show Sliders, forever assuring him a seat of honor at a science fiction convention near you, and likewise cutting him off from getting the kind of parts that would demonstrate the kind of range he had early in his career. Even when Rhys-Davies plays, as he has, Gamel Nasser, a Spanish conquistador, or the King of Troy, he's forever going to be thought of by his most devoted fans as Prof. Max Arturo or one of his other genre roles. Then again, it's hard to have a lot of sympathy for the guy, given that in 2004, he pissed all over his reputation by publicly endorsing the crackpot demographic beliefs of Mark Steyn and other right-wing demagogues, worrying himself over the allegedly insufficient breeding habits of white people and sweating over the nonsensical and pointless belief that Muslims will be 50% of the population by 2015. It's ironic that a man who has many times played the part of Arabs or Muslims -- including in one of his most famous roles -- shows such knee-jerk horror of the real thing; but for all that, he's still a gifted actor who deserves a few more chances to stretch his feet outside the genre ghetto.

Where to see John Rhys-Davies at his best:

RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981)

For over twenty years, John Rhys-Davies' most recognizable role to geeks and squares alike was Sallah, the Egyptian archaeologist who served as advisor, assistant, friend, and grand vizier to Indiana Jones. He had some of the most memorable scenes in the first two movies, including one where he warns our hero that there are worse consequences to bad dates than just blowing fifty bucks on dinner and a movie. For reasons it would be ungentlemanly to discuss, the character will likely not be appearing in the new Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, but it's still one of his warmest, most charismatic roles he's ever played.

THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS (1987)

Timothy Dalton's first role as 007 was a tricky one: in the era of perestroika, it didn't seem quite right to portray the Russians as the unrepentant monsters they had been in previous James Bond films. But it was so darn hard to let go of such juicy villains! Thus it fell to our Welsh wonder to portray Leonid Pushkin, the mysterious Russian general who may or my not have been as bad as he seems. It's that rare thing, a character in a James Bond film with a charcterization with more than one dimension, and Rhys-Davies obviously has a lot of fun with it, and even gets a meaty Bond-movie kill line.

LORD OF THE RINGS: THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING (2001)

Oh, yeah, that thing. Yes, John Rhys-Davies got the role of his career when, after auditioning for much more minor roles in Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" epic, he snagged the part of Gimli the Dwarf. It was one of the more underwritten parts in the film, in fact, consisting mostly of short jokes after an intial burst of hotheadedness, but Rhys-Davies makes the most of it, and his charisma with Orlando Bloom is undeniable. (It's a bit amusing that Rhys-Davies, who is a solid six-footer who's taller than most of the members of the cast, was selected to play a four-foot-tall character, but at least he had a sense of humor about it.)

Sweet Nothings: The Lost Words of Lost In Translation, Translated

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 16:00:00 GMT

YouTube? Rules.

I know: not exactly news. But I am nevertheless continually astonished by the lost treasures I stumble across there in the digital equivalent of that infinite warehouse in Raiders of the Lost Ark (and, apparently, The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull).

Recently, I blogged about the amazing (to me, anyway) discovery of the lost Biggs scenes from Star Wars. And today, while searching for clips for an upcoming post, I suddenly stumbled across an audio-enhanced reworking of the penultimate scene from Lost In Translation, where Bill Murray whispers something mysterious and romantic in Scarlett Johansson’s ear, something that we the audience never got to hear...

...until now.

Now, as the wise YouTube poster vid22dotcom cautions, “If you REALLY don't want to KNOW. PLEASE SKIP THIS VIDEO.” If you think it’s more satisfying NOT knowing what BiMu says to ScarJo (in the same way it was 1000 times more satisfying NOT knowing that the interior of the Mothership in Close Encounters just looked like a bunch of cheesy “Special Edition” effects), then DON'T click on the video clip below.

But you know you wanna click it, right?

The Rambow Connection

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 21:00:00 GMT

Rambo may not have defeated Hannah Montana at the box office, but in racking up a respectable $30 million so far, there’s already talk that this may not be the mush-mouthed muscleman’s final go-round. While Sylvester Stallone claims he’s hanging up the headband, Harvey Weinstein is enthusiastic enough to start formulating story ideas, and a newly inked two-film deal may have the Italian Stallion scrambling for a new HGH prescription soon enough.

Meanwhile, Rambo’s reemergence into the pop culture may give a boost to a "quirky little British movie" that might have otherwise been sunk by its association with the character. Son of Rambow is set for release in May, after clearing some legal hurdles caused by its inclusion of footage from the original Rambo vehicle. Directed by Garth Jennings (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy), Rambow is a coming-of-age tale about a sheltered young British boy whose life is changed when he views a bootleg tape of First Blood. Thus inspired, he and a friend set about making their own homemade sequel to the movie, which we’re guessing turns out better than Rambo III, at least.

First Blood was released by the long-defunct Carolco, and its rights are now held by StudioCanal, which purchased the Carolco library after the company was deep-sixed by the failure of its final high-profile releases, Showgirls and Cutthroat Island. Paramount Vantage acquired Son of Rambow after its debut at Sundance a year ago, but has been unable to release it until now. According to Variety, a deal was struck with StudioCanal, which will release the movie in the U.K. in April.

If the plot of Rambow sounds vaguely familiar, you might be thinking of Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation, the video remake of the original Indiana Jones adventure. Produced over seven years in the 1980s, this labor of love received Steven Spielberg’s seal of approval, and — surprise! — a movie about the boys who made it is now in the works. Ah, the ’80s: the decade that just keeps on giving.