The Screengrab : reefer madness

The Rep Report (April 14 - April 22)

Phil Nugent — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 20:30:00 GMT

NEW YORK: So far as Western critics and film historians were concerned for most of the past half century, the writer-director Satyajit Ray was that country's film industry, a personal artist whose working methods and concern placed him very much at odds with the Bollywood factory. And as Bollywood films have acquired an exotic cachet in the West in recent years, Ray has slipped into perhaps the greatest chasm of neglect of any long-canonized film artist, a man whose vast body of work is seldom seen in retrospectives and next to nonexistent in terms of representation on home video. "First Light: Satyajit Ray from the Apu Trilogy to the Calcutta Trilogy" (April 15-30) at Film Society of Lincoln Center provides a rare chance to catch up with the master's work through the early 1970s, starting with the films that make up the legendary " Apu trilogy" (Pather Panchali, Aparjito, and The World of Apu) and concluding with the lesser-known "Calcutta trilogy", an attempt to portray an India changing not necessarily for the better, The Adversary, Company Limited, and The Middleman. Also included are such rarely screened but highly cherished films as Three Daughters, Devi, and Days andf Nights in the Forest, as well as Shyam Benegal's 1982 documentary Satyajit Ray, Filmmaker.

The Museum of Modern Art hosts a retrospective of the films directed by Mike Nichols, from his first, hugely successful films, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and The Graduate through to his more recent Closer and Charlie Wilson's War. Also included are his theatrical adaptations for HBO, Wit and the two-part Angels in America, both starring Emma Thompson. The program runs from tonight through May 1.

BERKELEY: On Thursday, April 16, Pacific Film Archives screens the camp classic cautionary exploitation film Reefer Madness sweetened with a "Live musical soundtrack by UC Berkeley student DJs. Plus shorts and reefer rolling contest!" We make no judgements here at the Screengrab. Now shut up and pass the brownies.

ALBERTA, CANADA: The Calgary Underground Film Festival runs from tonight through April 19. The lineup includes Azazel Jacobs's Momma's Man, the documentaries Nerdcore Rising, Veer, and Monsterland, and the omnibus flick Tokyo!. Plus a number of shorts, including the seasonal horror comedy Treevenge, which can be sampled in the clip below:

Screengrab's Ultimate Exploitation Films!!!!!!! (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 21:00:00 GMT

We’ve spent a lot of time discussing quality, award-winning cinema during the past few weeks of Award Season mania, but now that Hugh Jackman has doffed his top hat and tails and the Slumdog kids have shuffled back to Bollywood, we thought it would be as good a time as any to get back to all the SEX-CRAZED!!!! BLOOD-THIRSTY!!!! ULTRA-PSYCHOTIC!!!! movies we really like, from the gin-soaked swamps and drive-ins of hixploitation to the blaxploitation grindhouse and...BEYOND!!!!

And sure, if you think about it, pretty much everything Hollywood pumps out is some form of exploitation, from the straight-up blood and guts of the zillionth Friday the 13th remake to the pity party relationship-porn of He’s Just Not That Into You. Even this year’s Oscar nominees were baited with pulp: after all, Mickey Rourke’s face in The Wrestler was at least as freaky as anything in Freaks, and where would The Reader be without all the hot Nazi sex and Kate Winslet’s big pepperoni nipples?

But the movies on this week’s list go even faster, pussycat...not to mention further, deeper, weirder and wilder. They did it first or they did it best or maybe they really shouldn’t have done it at all. Can your heart stand the shocking facts as Screengrab salutes THE ULTIMATE EXPLOITATION FILMS-A-GO-GO?!!!!??!?!!!

MARIHUANA (1936)

1930s films such as Marihuana (whose poster bore the subtitle "Weed with Roots in Hell"), Cocaine Fiends, Assassin of Youth and Reefer Madness tended to come with introductions explaining that their lurid tales of young people driven to crime, madness, and death by indulgence in vile narcotics were being presented to the public for "educational purposes only." These things were later revived in the 1970s and turned into midnight movies for hip audiences who enjoyed laughing at the dim old things who didn't know that a little weed could just be harmless fun. In fact, the '70s audiences may have been more naive than those in the '30s, most of whom probably understood perfectly well that putting up with some fake moralizing was the price they had to pay for the wild-child melodramatics, which were so extreme that they could only be justified dramatically with the pretext that these characters were carried away by the kind of bad chemicals that had Hunter S. Thompson seeing drunken lizards in the lounge of his Las Vegas hotel. Truth be told, you have to be a little desperate for cheap thrills to really watch most of these things; despite all the wild and crazy goings-on, the slow, stagy filmmaking isn't exactly psychedelic. Reefer Madness is probably the most famous of them, but the 57-minute Marihuana makes that 67-minute epic seem downright poky by comparison. Its answer to Reefer Madness' famous piano-playing scene is a party scene where a girl takes a toke on one of "the funniest-looking cigarettes I've ever seen" and is soon laughing into the camera with an expression that would alarm the Joker. Soon she and her gal pals, one of whom looks like an unchaperoned young Margaret Dumont, are stripping off their clothes and running into the ocean, with the result that one of them drowns and another gets pregnant. (Ask your mother.) After that, it's a short path to dealings with smiling men in dubious mustaches, chases through alleyways against trigger-happy cops with very poor aim, and the once-innocent heroine's steady transformation into Lady Scarface.

DOLEMITE (1975)

Excuse me: that’s DOLEMITE, motherfucker! The world lost a singular talent last year when Rudy Ray Moore, the incredibly foul-mouthed stand-up comic and “King of the Party Records”, left Earth for the big Player’s Ball in the sky. In the blaxploitative 1970s, he made a handful of movies based on his bad-ass pimp persona, but none of them were as enjoyable or as crazily over-the-top as Dolemite. Made for half a buck and some chicken wings in 1975 and starring Moore and a cast of top-shelf nobodies, Dolemite’s plot was so thin it barely existed at all, but who cares? Nobody was going to see this movie for its clever plot twists. They were going to see it so that they could hear Moore call some two-bit cocksucking honky a rat-soup-eating, born-insecure, no-business-having motherfucker. Moore couldn’t act, his director couldn’t direct, and it’s pretty likely that his key grip couldn’t grip, but that doesn’t keep Dolemite from being as straight-up entertaining as anything produced during the blaxploitation era. Whether he was telling his bitch not to buy him no cotton draws or suggesting that a guard use his recently shed prison uniform to wipe his ass with, Dolemite was hilarious to watch, and helped define an insanely politically incorrect archetype that would inform aspects of American culture for decades to come. Even now, Dolemite probably ranks behind only Scarface as the movie that most influenced hip-hop. And even if you’re not a rap fan, if you can watch Moore do his thing without smiling, you might want to have your fun gland looked at.

THE HILLS HAVE EYES (1977)

The key to a successful exploitation movie often boils down to having just enough intriguing elements and shocking visuals to fill a two-minute trailer. In the case of The Hills Have Eyes, those two minutes are just about all the movie has going for it. You’ve got the family driving their Winnebago off the beaten path, despite the warnings of the old coot at the gas station. You’ve got the tires blowing out, leaving the family stranded in the middle of the Nevada desert. And you’ve got the most exploitable element of all: the head of Michael Berryman. Berryman – who plays Pluto, the muscle of the clan of cannibalistic mutants that terrorizes the family – was never known for his romantic leading roles. His lumpy, oblong head, recessed eyes, lopsided nose and complete absence of hair pretty much ensured him steady work as one of nature’s mistakes, and he’s true to form here. Other than Berryman, The Hills Have Eyes is thin gruel indeed, one of Wes Craven’s most overrated works, way too reliant on the dog-jumping-out-of-the-shadows school of shock effects. And yet it spawned not only a sequel and a remake, but even a remake of the sequel – or is it a sequel to the remake? Either way – that’s exploitation!

I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (1978)

Those looking for either a passionate condemnation or defense of Meir Zarchi’s I Spit on Your Grave (aka Day of the Woman) will have to look elsewhere, since aside from its unforgettably titillating VHS cover artwork – which made my teenage heart yearn to rent the film – and its infamous reputation, this piece of exploitation hackwork mostly elicits a shrug. Still, it’s nearly impossible to deny the status of Zarchi’s shocker as an exploitation cinema touchstone, what with its Z-grade craftsmanship, empty-headed commingling of sex and violence, and pitiful strategy of reveling in abhorrent brutality and misogyny and then attempting to condemn such behavior with more gruesomeness. Over the course of 30 minutes, a New Yorker vacationing in the country is raped by sadistic hicks (including a mentally challenged virgin Neanderthal) who don’t like city folk. After suffering this assault, the woman seeks lethal vengeance on her attackers, a twist which may upend the film’s early gender-power dynamics, but nonetheless mainly just affords Zarchi further opportunity to stage bloodthirsty mayhem.

Click Here For Part Two, Three, Four, Five & Six...if you dare!!!!

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce, Scott Von Doviak & Nick Schager

Reviews By Request: The Atomic Cafe (1982, Kevin Rafferty, Jayne Loader, Pierce Rafferty)

Paul Clark — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Thanks to reader Jason Alley for requesting this week’s review. As always, for instructions on how to request the next review for this feature (to run in two weeks) see the bottom of this post.

One of the most fascinating aspects of American history during the 1950s was the way the image of wholesome innocence was juxtaposed with perhaps the greatest sustained wave of fear our country has ever felt- the fear of nuclear annihilation. Of course, the two were hardly mutually exclusive- it was partly the paranoia that was sweeping the country at the time that kept all “good law-abiding Americans” on the straight and narrow path, lest they draw undue attention. This contrast between the white-bread face of fifties America and the tangible threat of the Bomb is but one notable aspect of the documentary The Atomic Café, but it’s probably the one that registered with me most strongly.

When regular Screengrab reader Jason Alley recommended The Atomic Café for this week’s Reviews By Request, I was expecting something more kitschy. The film's poster and the synopsis on IMDb suggested something along the lines of the documentary Hell’s Highway, which took a wink-wink look back at those cheeseball highway safety movies many of us were made to suffer through in Driver’s Ed. But while some of the helpful hints offered by the atomic bomb-themed classroom films seen in The Atomic Café sound pretty risible in retrospect, the film is deadly serious not just about the horror of potential nuclear war, but about how little we really knew about it back then.

Rather than a haphazard montage of old educational films and newsreel footage, Atomic Café directors Kevin Rafferty, Jayne Loader, and Pierce Rafferty structure the film as a chronological history of the building nuclear threat, told entirely through “found footage.” It’s this structure that’s key to the movie’s effect. A looser film might draw attention to the individual bits themselves, possibly drawing the same sort of knowing laughter that is often afforded misguided cautionary relics of yore (e.g. Reefer Madness). Instead, the chronology of the film allows the information to have a cumulative effect, as we approach the mindset of the shorts based on what the film has already shown us.

Consider how the film begins with the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The footage that follows focuses largely on the American idea that these bombings brought about the end of World War II (there’s even a newsreel entitled ”Peace: Isn’t It Wonderful?”). But while this might have indeed been the case, the footage from Japan tells a different story- charred corpses, mangled bodies, buildings leveled to the ground. As we see an aerial view of a bombed city, the filmmakers play an old American radio show in the background, with the hosts joking that the city looks “like Ebbets Field after a Giants doubleheader.”

But it wasn’t a joke anymore when the Soviets got their own Bomb. Anti-Communist fervor consumed our government, the Rosenbergs were executed, and we began preparing for the worst. Yet strangely enough, American newsreels and educational films actually downplayed the potential destruction a Soviet attack could cause. Bert the Turtle tells children to “duck and cover,” grade schoolers stock up on canned goods, and families build fallout shelters in the basements. All the while, those in the know suggest that these preparations might not be nearly enough to protect us, and wouldn’t even function as a deterrent.

All the while, the Raffertys and Loader use nothing but pre-existing audio and film, but they nonetheless make their points in no uncertain terms. This is especially true of the film’s final montage, when the film intercuts declassified films of actual nuclear tests with shots of people reacting to hypothetic blasts in educational films. As we see children crawling under their desks and adults covering themselves with picnic blankets, it’s hard not to marvel at how ill-prepared we really were for the possibility of nuclear war. How lucky for everyone that we never got to that point.

Small touches linger in the mind. An Army film showing soldiers participating in radiation experiments. An announcer interrupting a monologue about the Communist threat to plug two local shopping centers as bastions of “glorious capitalism.” A single shot of a Japanese man used twice, once in the lead-in to the footage of the Hiroshima bombing, and again in the final montage- perhaps as a way of musing how little good ducking and covering would have done him. Newsreel footage of a Wisconsin town simulating a “Communist invasion.” Then-Vice President Nixon proclaiming mental health to be “the single most important issue facing Americans today.” A priest insistently preaching the need to keep extra people out of your fallout shelter, by using force if necessary.

Watching The Atomic Café, I thought back to Peter Watkins’ masterpiece The War Game, which imagined the aftermath of a nuclear blast on an ill-prepared society. But while The Atomic Café lacks the gut-punch terror of Watkins’ film, its specificity and comprehensive recreation of the mindset of the period makes it worthy of being mentioned in the same breath, and that’s no mean feat.

So, what movie would you like me to review for the next installment of Reviews by Request? Let me know in the comments section below. To refresh your memory, here are the rules for requesting a movie to be reviewed: (1) it has to be a movie I haven’t seen, (2) it has to be available through Netflix, and (3) please only request one film. Other than that, anything is fair game. First to suggest a movie that qualifies gets their requested review. See you in two weeks!

Take Five: Weed

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 21:00:00 GMT

We were going to call this Take Five "Buddha", and then, like, totally blow your mind by not including Kundun, but frankly, we're just too, you know, we're too, uh...what were we talking about? Oh, right! That weed! The chronic! Sweet Mary Jane! A favorite in Hollywood for so many years that it doesn't even seem like a vice to some people (remember Tom Hagen warning the movie producer in The Godfather that one of his stars was about to 'graduate' from marijuana to cocaine), it was a while before social pressures eased up enough to portray herb in anything but the most hysterical terms. How far we've come, bros! Today, only a few scant days after 4/20 (the national stoner's holiday), we can each of us get nicely toasted and ditch work early for a matinee of Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, which posits that even our Commander-in-Chief enjoys a good bong hit now and again. The noir classic The Sweet Smell of Success contained a plot point that expected us to believe that a jazz musician -- and a white one, at that! -- might see his career ruined by the mere possession of the devil weed, while the new Kal Penn/John Cho vehicle implies that toking up on a regular basis is the best career move you can make. Here's five more films that deal with the sweet leaf in all its hazy glory.

REEFER MADNESS (1936)

This absurd scare-flick is typical of the anti-drug hysteria of the 1920s and 1930s; it's only exceptional in that it's exceptionally over-the-top in its woozy narrative, lurid dialogue, and bizarrely sensationalistic vision of what marijuana will do to you. (Apparently, it turns you into a murderer or a sex fiend instead of a lazy Xbox-addicted dolt.) Directed by French-born Louis Gasnier (whose other major claim to fame was the Perils of Pauline serial), it's unintentionally hilarious to the degree that it's been reissued endlessly in every format imaginable for new generations of potheads to giggle at. In fact, for a film that did poor business, featured no stars, and is incompetently made at every level, it very well may be that Reefer Madness is the most-watched film of the 1930s. Ah, irony.

CHEECH & CHONG'S UP IN SMOKE (1978)

You simply can't talk about dope movies without mentioning Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong, the guys who turned them from a taboo into a franchise. Although it's easy to condemn the boys for how quickly their on-screen efforts turned into dogshit (I'm still reeling from The Corsican Brothers), those only familiar with how bad things eventually got might want to go back and give their motion picture debut another look. It's not great art or anything, and Lou Adler's direction is strictly syndicated sitcom level, but it's got a number of genuinely funny moments, some hilarious dialogue, some swell celebrity cameos from Tom Skerritt and Stacy Keach, and all in all, it's exactly what a stoner comedy shoud be: a good-natured, consequence-free thumb in the nose to petty authority. Good afternoon viewing for a baked summer day.

THE BIG LEBOWKSI (1998)

It's downright shocking that such a successful dopehead comedy was made by the Coen Brothers. While I certainly can't speak to their own habits of indulgence or not, their filmmaking is incredibly tight and unbelievably disciplined, exactly the opposite of most art created by the Cheeba-American community. And yet along comes The Big Lebowski: a movie that, aside from being an unbelievably funny comedy and an eerily precise if cleverly disguised Raymond Chandler detective story, is probably the most perfect stoner flick ever made. The Dude is the ultimate slacker hero, lighting a J when he gets bored listening to the title character rattle on about hard work and responsibility, as well as the roach-butt of many a joke, as he smashes up his much-abused car after dropping a maggot on his pants while driving.

HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE (2004)

Of course, we can't praise the sometimes subtle, sometimes anvil-heavy stoner comedy of Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay without mentioning its predecessor, a hugely successful cult flick that came out of nowhere and captured the public imagination in just the right way with its combination of gregarious dope jokes and over-the-top grossout comedy. It launched the careers of appealing leads Kal Penn and John Cho; it proved that you can make a successful buddy picture without a white guy; and best of all, it was funny as hell and forced beloved/reviled mini-hamburger chain White Castle to acknowledge its existence with an extreme line-toeing ad campaign that tried to capitalize on the movie's success without explicitly avowing the truth: that White Castle is the preferred 3AM nosh joint for the seriously blunted.

SUPER HIGH ME (2007)

Explicitly lifted from Morgan Spurlock's anti-McDonald's stunt documentary Super Size Me, and based on little more than a two-minute comedy routine by star Doug Benson, Super High Me -- which combines a fairly legitimate section on drug law reform, straight-up concert footage of Benson's act, and extended segments of his attempt to get high every day for a month -- isn't the most coherent or well-presented film you'll ever see. Which, given the topic, is pretty understandable. But it's got its funny moments, and if nothing else, it allows you to see that Benson is none the worse for wear after his 'experiment' (which, let's be honest, would represent cutting back for a lot of people), and the movie is stocked with successful actors and comedians who are successful and yet get stoned quite regularly. It's a good thing Benson's not black, though, or this movie would probably be used as evidence at his trial.

Take Five: Filmic Youth

Peter Smith — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 21:00:00 GMT

Many years ago, a friend of mine coined the term "The Coppola Line". An artistic equivalent of baseball's Mendoza Line (the .200 batting average below which a hitter is considered detrimental to his team despite any defensive abilities he might possess), the Coppola Line was the point at which someone's bad work outweighed the value of his good work. If you made six good movies and five bad ones, you were above the Coppola Line; if you recorded three good albums and four bad ones, you were below it. It was named, of course, for Francis Ford Coppola, the man who best epitomized this dreadful ratio, who made some of the finest films in American cinema in the 1970s before cranking out dud after dud in the 1980s and 1990s. With his eagerly anticipated movie, Youth Without Youth — releasing this Friday — he hopes to become the first filmmaker named Coppola to rise back above the Coppola Line after sinking below it. The motion picture business, only slightly less a youth-centered industry than the music biz, has always been obsessed with youth, so if Youth Without Youth turns out to be another stinker, here are some 'youth movies' that will help make up for it.

ASSASSIN OF YOUTH (1937)

Lest you think that anti-drug hysteria is a relatively recent development in American culture, look back to this grade-Z production from the Depression, when apparently people didn't have anything to worry about other than the notion that smoking the devil weed might turn their children into murderous zombies. Starring a cast of no-names in roles so flat they can't even be called caricature, Assassin of Youth can still be enjoyed on an ironic level, preferably while stoned: it's the kind of raving, no-budget hackwork that makes Reefer Madness look like an even-handed documentary.

SPIRIT OF YOUTH (1938)

Widely considered one of the greatest boxers of all time, Joe "The Brown Bomber" Louis only appeared in one film, which should clue you in that he wasn't quite as gifted as an actor. Still, there're a few reasons to recommend this film, which was meant to be a loose parallel of his fighting career and was released during his second year as reigning heavyweight champion. Louis has no chops talking in front of the camera, but he's grace in motion when he gets the chance to fight, and the movie is one of the few where Mantan Moreland is given the opportunity to show some actual acting skills and not just behave as a comic stereotype. The DVD release of Spirit of Youth can be seen all over America, unlike the movie's theatrical release — it was not shown in many Southern theaters for fear that the audience would become enraged at the sight of a black fighter defeating white opponents.

NO REGRETS FOR MY YOUTH (1946)

An early film from Akira Kurosawa, this one is known as Waga seishun ni kuinashi at home, but in any language, it's a prime building block in what would become one of the greatest careers in cinema. The story of a college professor who is removed from his post for opposing the war against China, No Regrets for My Youth is one of the first Japanese films to speak out openly against the fascist regime that took power in the 1930s — and that's not the only taboo it breaks, as it deals, as openly as possible given the time and place of its making, with homosexuality. As if all that's not enough to tempt you to hunt down the DVD, it also features a character nicknamed "The Poisoned Strawberry".

SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH (1962)

Hollywood generally didn't know how to handle Tennessee Williams. Much of the sexuality (especially homosexuality) in his plays had to be removed or toned down to placate the censors of the time, and unless handled just right, his florid dialogue, so powerful on stage, could come off as campy on screen. Writer/director Richard Brooks did a pretty decent job in this adaptation, abetted by a great cast that included a young, handsome Paul Newman as a zooted-out drifter, Geraldine Page (light-years removed from her later dowdy-matron roles) as a sex kitten, and Ed Begley and Rip Torn gnawing on the scenery as a powerful southern lawman and his jealous son.

YOUTH OF THE BEAST (1963)

Seijun Suzuki's Yaju no seishun (usually translated as Youth of the Beast) is one of his finest slices of deranged yakuza action — and as such, it's one of the movies that helped get him blackballed from the industry for decades. Like most of his films, it's a demented ball of non-stop energy, filled with fantastic eye candy, crazily giddy performances (especially an all-time classic role from Jo Shishido as the relentless young gangster of the title), and stylistically sexualized violence. Recently released in a jam-packed Criterion Collection edition, Youth of the Beast is living proof of why the Japanese film industry couldn't figure out what do do with Suzuki for the longest time.

— Leonard Pierce