The Screengrab : sydney pollack

Whatever Happened to Kenneth Lonergan's "Margaret"?

Phil Nugent — Fri, 01 May 2009 17:30:00 GMT

When Kenneth Lonergan, already a successful playwright (This Is Our Youth) and screenwriter (Analyze This) made his directing debut with You Can Count on Me (2000), an acclaimed small film that did big things for the careers of its stars, Laura Linney and Mark Ruffalo, it seemed like the beginning of a promising career. Since then, Lonergan has had a script credit on Gangs of New York (directed by Martin Scorsese, who had an executive producer credit on You Can Count on Me); meanwhile, the years have gone by while his second film asa a director, Margaret has remained unreleased and possibly, depending on who you ask, unfinished. As John Horn reports, the movie, which was funded by Fox Searchlight Pictures and producer Gary Gilbert, was shot in 2005, and has now inspired a pair of lawsuits, one of which alleges that the movie remains unreleased because Lonergan, who has the power of final cut, has never been able to shape the material into a finished state that's to his satisfaction.

Margaret was never going to be an easy sell commercially. Based on a shooting script that ran more than 160 pages--a length that's liable to result in a two and a half hour movie--it was intended as a timely, post-9/11 parable about the nature of guilt and responsibility. Set in New York City, it stars Anna Paquin as a seventeen-year-old girl who witnesses a bus accident and becomes involved in a subsequent legal action against the driver, played by Mark Ruffalo. The cast also includes Matt Damon, as a teacher towards whom Paquin's character makes advances, and J. Smith-Cameron, who is married to Lonergan, as the girl's mother. (As if all this weren't involved enough, "Margaret" isn't the name of the Paquin character or anyone else in the movie: the title refers to a Gerald Manley Hopkins poem, “Spring and Fall: To a Young Child”, which comes up in the course of one of the classroom scenes. The list of high-powered prestige talents who worked on the movie include not one but two already-deceased producers, Anthony Minghella and Sydney Pollack, as well as cast members Alison Janney, Jean Reno, Kieran Culkin, Rosemarie DeWitt, Olivia Thirlby, and Matthew Broderick; Broderick, who also appeared in You Can Count on Me, is said to have loaned Lonergan a million dollars to help him complete the editing. (According to John Horn, "A Broderick spokesman said the loan was a private matter and disputed the dollar amount but did not provide another figure.") For his part, Scorsese is said to have sent in his "legendary editor" Thelma Schoonmaker to pitch in, but to no avail.

The lawsuits started flying last summer when Fox Seacrhlight "sued Gilbert and his production company, claiming he failed to pay the studio half of the film's production costs. Two months later, Gilbert's Camelot Pictures sued Fox Searchlight and Lonergan, alleging that the studio and Lonergan thwarted Gilbert's many attempts to finish the movie, forcing Camelot to pay for 'a clearly inferior and unmarketable film' that Lonergan, several people say, will not support." The $12 million that got spent on Margaret doesn't exactly make for a Heaven's Gate-style fiasco, but the situation is a source of embarrassment for all involved, not least the studio if it's true that they gave Lonergan carte blanche to make a movie that he couldn't make work--at least, not within the framework of certain conditions to which he'd agreed. (Lonergan's final-cut guarantee was contingent on his delivering a movie that was no longer than 150 minutes.) Whether Lonergan could only deliver an ambitious, sometimes brilliant failure, or if he simply turned obsessive perfectionist and couldn't let go of his baby, the studio seemed to have come to the conclusion that it was better for them to forget the movie existed rather than take it away from him and finish it for him, which would have been them look like crude buttinskys and alienated other "prestige" filmmakers they might have wanted to court in the future. Martin Scorsese reportedly declared that one version of Margaret that he saw back in 2006 was "brilliant, a materpiece." I hope he took notes.

April Fools: The 35 Funniest Movie Characters Of All Time (Part Seven)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 22:45:00 GMT

BILL MURRAY AS JEFF SLATER IN TOOTSIE (1982)

Bill Murray is one of those people with such a long, varied career of starring and supporting roles in so many beloved mainstream and indie films -- from Carl Spackler in Caddyshack to “Bill Murray” in Coffee and Cigarettes -- that he could easily fill up this week’s list almost single-handedly. But of all his roles, his understated, largely improvised performance in Tootsie has always been my favorite: a toned-down version of his cocky '80s persona that hinted at the bemused, melancholy range of his later work, his Jeff Slater is the perfect roommate and wing-man: a wise, mellow pal who gently informs you when you’re "getting into a weird area" with your career or social life, yet who doesn’t scold or judge when he walks in to find you in a dress being groped by a horny old soap opera star. The yin to Dustin Hoffman’s neurotic actor yang, he’s the kind of playwright who’d prefer a half-empty theater filled with people who just came out of the rain to a packed house (and yet somehow doesn’t sound pretentious saying it). And best of all, I actually got to have a roommate very much like him once (hi, Hari!), during a year I still recall as fondly as my memories of Tootsie and the late, great Sydney Pollack. ("You were a tomato!") (AO)

MICHAEL KEATON AS BEETLEJUICE IN BEETLEJUICE (1988)

Keaton made this movie with the director Tim Burton at a time when Burton had more experience working with cartoon characters than live actors. It was a sweet gesture on Keaton's part to meet him more than halfway. At the time, Keaton was six years past his impressive movie debut in Night Shift (as a pimp who operated out of a morgue and preferred to be called a "love broker") and overdue to take his career to another level, but even those who guessed that he had untapped potential couldn't have guessed that maggoty would be such a great look for him. Few actors have turned themselves into a special effect with such happy results. (PN)

KEVIN KLINE AS OTTO WEST IN A FISH CALLED WANDA (1988)

It’s a testament to John Cleese’s generosity as a comic author that he gave the absolute best role in A Fish Called Wanda to someone else. That someone else was Kevin Kline, who, in a performance he’d never again equal, took the ball and ran with it: his grasp on the character of Otto West, a short-tempered, virile, violent, and not altogether bright criminal and Ugly American par excellence is vice-tight. The great thing about Otto is that he’s not a typical dumb goon: he’s a fairly skillful criminal, a stone cold killer, and best of all, he’s very slightly aware of how dumb he is. While most stupid characters milk comedy out of their obliviousness, the genius of Otto’s stupidity (and Kline’s astute assessment of same) is that he knows he’s not the brightest bulb on the marquee, and it drives him crazy. Hence his one great taboo – he can’t stand it when people call him stupid. What’s more, Kline milks gallons of comic frustration out of Otto’s inability to wrap his head around complex problems; he’s never angrier than when he senses someone has the advantage of him, but since he’s not smart enough to fake it, he just gets angrier (and stupider). One of the best throwaway gags in A Fish Called Wanda comes when an elaborate plan starts to go awry and Otto is called upon to help think of a solution; obviously infuriated, he pointlessly fires a couple of rounds from his silenced pistol into a steel safe and bellows “I’m THINKING!”. (LP)

STEVE ZAHN AS GLENN MICHAELS IN OUT OF SIGHT (1998)

Steve Zahn specializes in characters who have a negative genius for being in the wrong place at the wrong time; in That Thing You Do!, things got dramatic while he was off enjoying a rollercoaster ride. Here, he takes it so far that he barely seems to be in the right movie, though you're glad he stopped by. After arriving to help bust George Clooney out of prison -- a favor for which Clooney thanks him by threatening to throw his sunglasses "off the overpass while they're still on your head" -- he hooks up with Don Cheadle's mob just in time to participate in a massacre that soon has him sneaking around in search of the back exit. If all petty criminals were more like Zahn's Glenn, the world would be a much more entertaining place, and practically a crime-free one. (PN)

JEFF BRIDGES AS JEFFREY “THE DUDE” LEBOWSKI IN THE BIG LEBOWSKI (1998)

Although he’s not the most clownish figure in the Coen Brothers’ endlessly quotable cult comedy – that title belongs to gun-toting, dog-sitting Vietnam vet Walter Sobchak, played with gusto by John Goodman – you’d be hard-pressed to find a figure more hilariously suited to the archetype of the Holy Fool than Jeff Bridges’ Dude. Conceived as a stoner upturning of Raymond Chandler’s hard-nosed detective Philip Marlowe, the Dude, a perpetually out-of-it former roadie whose life revolves around bowling, weed, and White Russians, is caught up in a web of mistaken identity, kidnapping and blackmail. While Marlowe stubbornly refused to be warned off a case, doggedly pursuing the truth for its own sake, the Dude barely even seems to be aware that he’s on a case, and yet, in his own shambolic, shaggy-dog way, has the instincts and aptitude of a real detective. Based on film promoter and ex-‘60s radical Jeff Dowd, the Dude is an immortal comic creation, a stumbling bum who outwits people more or less by default and lives in the sunshiney flipside of Los Angeles noir. His mind is never far from his next frame, and his dress sense isn’t quite tailored suits and ties, but let’s see Philip Marlowe disarm a rival simply by saying “Well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.” (LP)

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

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce

The Top Ten Great Scenes From Not So Great Movies (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 20:00:00 GMT

A few weeks ago, we here at the Screengrab called on YOU, the good people of Blogtopia, to let us know what Top Ten Lists you’d like to see us forget to include your favorite movies on...and, lo, it came to pass that we did verily discuss the finest farewells and most ignominious exits in the annals of cinema o’er the previous fortnight at the behest of one “Other Matt.” (Sorry, I just got back from the free outdoor Boston Common production of All’s Well That Ends Well, and I'm still feeling a little iambic.)

Anyway, this week, we’ve taken the suggestion of just plain “Matt” (presumably the original Matt and possibly Other Matt’s Batman-esque nemesis): ten great scenes that really deserved to be in better movies!

"Kickapoo" from TENACIOUS D IN THE PICK OF DESTINY (2006)

It’s difficult to describe to the uninitiated what a colossal disappointment the Tenacious D movie turned out to be. If you’ve only seen the movie or heard a handful of songs, it would be easy to dismiss the portly duo (Jack Black and Kyle Gass) as a comic novelty act. But the fans knew better, getting hooked on the endlessly re-watchable HBO series and frequenting D concerts. And with Pick of Destiny, it felt like their dream had finally come true: a fitting vehicle for the self-proclaimed “World’s Greatest Band.” Then they actually saw the movie, at which point all hope came crashing down, leaving D fans no choice but to trudge home and forlornly listen to “Fuck Her Gently” over and over again. But before that could happen, the movie’s opening scene actually delivered everything the fans had always hoped for...namely, a kickass rockin’ D musical. The “Kickapoo” number (an all-sung origin story featuring Meat Loaf as the Bible-thumping father of young Jables and Ronnie James Dio as a diabolical mentor) promises so much more than even a good movie could possibly deliver. Which, of course, makes it all the more disappointing that the movie that follows barely even seems to try, even jettisoning Meat Loaf and Dio altogether and retreating to the relatively safe template of stoner comedy. But for five minutes, it’s pure Tenacious D bliss, the foul-mouthed, Jim Steinman-esque rock opera the fans deserved, rather than the sub-Cheech’n’Chong antics they ended up getting.

That long-ass alley brawl from THEY LIVE (1988)

John Carpenter's 1988 sci-fi allegory wasn't a terrible movie by any means; it was your basic, meat-and-potatoes B-movie, the ideal bottom half of a drive-in double bill back when such things existed. (There is dissent in the Screengrab bullpen about this evaluation, with at least one colleague proclaiming They Live to be "totally awesome," but in my book such praise is reserved for movies that don't star "Rowdy" Roddy Piper.) But Carpenter's movie does have its moment of greatness…well, actually it's a hell of a lot longer than a moment. Piper's Nada, a laborer who finds a special pair of sunglasses that allow him to see hidden messages in billboards and hidden aliens inside seemingly normal people, wishes to share his discovery with his co-worker Frank (Keith David). Frank declines. When a sensible discussion of the issue fails to bear fruit, fisticuffs ensue. And ensue. And ensue. For nearly six minutes, Piper and David beat the crap out of each other in an alley, and every time you think they're finished, reduced to nothing more than heaves and grunts, they start all over again. It's not that their fight is some brilliantly choreographed ballet of action – its brilliance (and hilarity) lies in its single-minded relentlessness.

Jack & Sam's hellacious squabble from HUSBANDS AND WIVES (1992)

It was a perfect storm for Woody Allen in 1992: his personal life was splattered all over the tabloids, and his new movie came packaged with provocative similarities to the headlines. Most critics were quick to slap a label reading "Woody's latest masterpiece" on Husbands and Wives, praising the shaky camera work, jump-cuts and foul language as well as the perceived highly personal subject matter. This was a breakthrough, a new raw, down-and-dirty Woody Allen – except for those of us who saw it as the same old Allen with a derivative, migraine-inducing stylistic tic wholly unsuited to his Upper East Side world. Sure enough, it didn't take long for Woody to revert to his tried-and-true long master shots and PG-13 dialogue, but there is one scene in Husbands and Wives that delivers a short, sharp shock of the rawness Allen was targeting. It doesn't involve his character or Mia Farrow at all – and you could speculate that Allen couldn't bring himself to completely abandon his audience's affections, though I've seen too many of his subsequent films (Deconstructing Harry, Anything Else) to make that mistake – but rather the late Sydney Pollack in the role that really turned the remainder of his career towards acting rather than directing. As Jack (the best friend role that had often gone to Tony Roberts or Michael Murphy in the past), Pollack is a married man romancing a younger woman, Sam (Lysette Anthony), described by Allen's character as a "fucking cocktail waitress." Pollack dismisses Allen's snobbery until Sam embarrasses him at an upscale party by voicing her New Age-y thoughts about tofu and astrology and whatnot. What follows is sort of the Woody Allen version of the They Live fight – a corrosive "let's get outta here" scene that escalates into a kind of mortifying slapstick.

Click here for Part Two & Part Three

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Paul Clark, Scott Von Doviak

Yesterday's Hits: The Way We Were (1973, Sydney Pollack)

Paul Clark — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Since the recent passing of director Sydney Pollack, there has been a great outpouring of respect and admiration for his work as both an actor and filmmaker. Because Pollack’s films weren’t as innovative or flashy as those by contemporaries such as Martin Scorsese, there was sometimes a tendency to dismiss him as a first-rate craftsman, whose lack of a distinctive directorial voice made him well-suited to glossy middlebrow fare. Yet this rep was both reductive and sort of unfair- yes, his films were popular entertainments, but he was one of the best at making this sort of film, and what his work lacked in stylistic panache it almost always made up for in intelligence and first-rate acting. In memory of Pollack, I’ll be re-examining one of his biggest hits, his 1973 film The Way We Were.

What made The Way We Were a hit?: The runaway success of 1970’s Love Story proved that the market for old-fashioned, star-driven romantic melodramas was as strong as it ever was. It helped that The Way We Were boasted two of the era’s biggest stars- popular golden boy Robert Redford and actress/singer phenom Barbra Streisand. At the time of the film’s release, both of them were at the height of their stardom, and audiences clamored to see this unlikely duo together on the big screen.

But adding to the interest level was the film’s timeline, from the couple’s college days in the late 1930s through World War II, the Hollywood blacklists, and finishing squarely in the middle of the Cold War. Like Forrest Gump two decades later, the protagonists of The Way We Were were riding on the tides of recent history, participating directly or indirectly in events that many audience members had lived through or heard about from their elders. Audience responded strongly to the film, making it one of the biggest hits of 1973 and carrying its Streisand-sung title tune to the #1 spot on the charts.

What happened?: After the seventies drew to a close, the decade in Hollywood was remembered primarily as a time of maverick cinema, of brash young tyro filmmakers who hijacked the system and changed the face of American filmmaking. Of course, this was an oversimplification of the decade that also gave us the Airport movies, but in an era that was celebrated for gritty, groundbreaking cinema, there was little room for an old-school romance like The Way We Were. Likewise, the film’s stars began to act less and less frequently onscreen- Streisand’s appeared in precisely one film in the past decade, and Redford’s arguably as well-known as a filmmaker and Sundance figurehead as he is as a movie star. The Way We Were is in many ways a quintessential Yesterday’s Hit- the kind of movie people tend to remember fondly without going out of their way to watch it again.

Does The Way We Were still work?: Sure does, thanks in no small part to Barbra Streisand. In the ensuing years, Streisand’s diva-like behavior and control-freak tendencies have overshadowed her talent, but to watch The Way We Were is to remember what made her a star in the first place. Prior to making this film, Streisand’s best roles were in musicals and comedies, but Katie Morosky gave her a meaty dramatic part, and she made the character sing. Passionate, headstrong, and unmistakably Jewish, Katie is unimaginable without Streisand playing her. Even in quieter moments such as Hubbell’s (Redford) drunken seduction scene, Streisand excels, as the conflicting emotions of the moment play across her one-of-a-kind face.

For his part, Redford was somewhat less spectacular than Streisand- how could he not be?- but if nothing else he was perfect for the role of Hubbell, the college golden boy whose unexpected reserves of feeling can’t quite compensate for lack of idealism. Romantic films usually sink or swim based on two factors- casting and chemistry- and The Way We Were gets both exactly right. Not only are Streisand and Redford perfect for their characters, but they also work together beautifully onscreen. Watching them together, it’s easy to see what draws their characters to each other, even when the film doesn’t make it explicit.

But what distinguishes The Way We Were from other romances of the day, including the aforementioned Love Story, is that its characters are actually interesting, complex people. Not only are Katie and Hubbell carried along by history, but they actively engage with it, especially the political firebrand Katie. Coming at the heels of Vietnam and the resulting protests, many audience members no doubt responded to the way they actually discussed politics and ideals instead of simply gazing into each other’s eyes and professing their love. A key exchange comes late in the film, when Katie and Hubbell are arguing about the Communist witch hunts:

Hubbell: “People are more important than their principles.”
Katie: “People are their principles.”

Even today, it’s refreshing to hear characters talk like this. Love isn’t easy in The Way We Were, precisely because there’s more driving these characters than the desire to be loved. Perhaps this was what audience members responded to most strongly at the time- the idea that there were too many bigger things going on in the world to worry about a tidy happy ending. The Way We Were has some problems- the film’s elliptical structure leads to a certain sketchiness of story, as well as glossing over some of the more unpleasant details. However, it’s definitely worthy of a re-evaluation, and in light of Pollack’s recent passing, I’d say there’s no time like the present.

In Other Blogs: They Shoot Bloggers, Don’t They?

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 30 May 2008 15:30:00 GMT

Along with movie fans everywhere, film bloggers bid farewell to Sydney Pollack this week. Bright Lights After Dark sums up the prevailing sentiment in the title of this post: Good Director, Great Actor. “One of the best, certainly one of the most unusual, episodes of the half-hour anthology series, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, was 1960's 'The Contest for Aaron Gold.' Directed by Norman Lloyd and based on a story by Philip Roth, it’s about a camp counselor, a teacher of ceramics, who observes a special talent in Aaron (Barry Gordon), one of the boys he is instructing in arts and crafts. While the other boys are using their clay to make crude snakes and pots, Aaron is making a finely detailed sculpture of a knight. But there’s a problem. The sculpture is missing an arm, and for some reason, Aaron refuses to complete it. The night before the boys’ parents are due to arrive, the counselor decides to complete the sculpture himself – with unexpected results. I recall this episode today, among other reasons, because of the extraordinary natural performance by the actor who played the camp counselor. It was the late Sydney Pollack, and to see him in this role is to wonder why he didn’t have the major acting career of a Hoffman or a De Niro. Instead, of course, Pollack became a director, and - not surprisingly - directing actors was one of his greatest strengths.”

Arbogast on Film offers a somewhat more pointed appreciation. “Sydney Pollack rates about half a dozen references in Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock'n'Roll Generation Saved Hollywood, which means, I guess, that Biskind doesn't consider Pollack (who died yesterday at the age of 73) one of those saviors. Well, fuck Peter Biskind. I'm not knocking Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Dennis Hopper, Paul Schrader or Brian DePalma - I like a lot of their movies, too - but at least Pollack never got high off his own supply and turned into a pathetic caricature of himself.”

At Beyond the Multiplex, Andrew O’Hehir has a post-Cannes wrap-up. “Along the Croisette, the enormous billboards for international co-productions that may never be made, let alone seen by the paying public, will quickly come down. This year's most ubiquitous and puzzling ad was pushing an Egyptian-made thriller (or something) called The Baby Doll Night, featuring a tank on a ruined street with a woman's slip hanging from its cannon. It asks: ‘Can one night of pleasure mend 60 years of pain?’ Well, I'm just not sure. Another total baffler was a film called The Seven of Daran: The Battle of Pareo Rock, which appears to feature a baby giraffe, two kids, a helicopter and the slogan: ‘A myth never been told.’ (Fellow blogger and Cannes drinking buddy Glenn Kenny prefers the tagline for the Jason Statham vehicle Transporter 3: ‘The rules remain the same. Except some changes.’)”

Cinema Styles proprietor Jonathan Lapper has put together a terrific movie clip montage called Frames of Reference. “I knew I wanted to take just one piece of music, and using no ambient sounds from the films themselves, edit together clips building a rhythm according to the natural rhythm of the music. I had another goal in mind as well. I did not want to move through film history chronologically, working from a hundred plus years back and moving forward or going in reverse, and I did not want to break it down into sections according to genre. What I wanted to do, and did, was take advantage of the language of film, the words and letters, and the fact that so many films, whether consciously or not, use the same shots, the same angles, the same movements when telling their story. And so the montage exploits these similarities and puts them to the rhythm of the music.” Watch it here.

And finally in List-o-Mania, ReezChannel commemorates the release of Sex and the City with a Tribute to Big-Screen Cougars, “that special breed of single woman, generally in her 30s or 40s, who tosses aside traditional notions of femininity with a bold, independent, sexually adventurous approach to life.” Has the world forgotten Lily Tomlin in Moment by Moment? (The correct answer is “yes.”)

Sydney Pollack, 1934--2008

Phil Nugent — Tue, 27 May 2008 01:00:00 GMT

Sydney Pollack has died at the age of 73, ending a recent struggle with cancer. As a young theater buff, Pollack, who grew up in South Bend, Indiana, went to New York after graduating high school and enrolled at the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theater, where he first studied under and later served as assistant to the legendary acting teacher Sanford Meisner. Early in his career, Pollack appeared on Broadway in A Stone for Danny Fisher and The Dark Is Light Enough as well as on TV, incluyding episodes of Plyahouse 90, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, The Twilight Zone, and Have Gun, Will Travel. After Burt Lancaster, who he would later direct in the late sixties in The Scalphunters and Castle Keep, suggested that Pollack consider directing, he stepped behind the camera for work on several TV series and eventually broke into movies with the 1965 The Slender Thread. He brought a skilled rapport with actors and a taste for old-Hollywood glamour to his feature film work, and he became associated with certain high-caliber performers who placed a lot of trust in him--particularly Robert Redford, who he directed in seven starring roles, beginning with the 1966 Tennessee Williams adaptation This Property Is Condemned and including the winner of the 1985 Academy Award for Best Picture, Out of Africa. They also worked together on The Way We Were with Barbra Streisand, probably the most successful of Redford's old-style romances, Jeremiah Johnson, Three Days of the Condor, Havana, and The Electric Horseman, which paired Redford with Jane Fonda. Pollack was also an important figure in Fonda's career, having directed her in the 1969 They Shoot Horses, Don't They?, which marked her transformation from sex-kitten comedienne to hard-edged dramatic actress. That picture went a long way towards establishing Pollack as a new-style Hollywood pro; it won Academy Award nominations for Fonda, Pollack, and Susannah York, and earned Gig Young a Best Supporting Oscar for his brilliant performance as a dance-marathon emcee.

It was the 1982 Tootsie, though, that really took Pollack's career to a couple of different levels. A massive hit and instant classic, it elevated his profile as a director. And because Pollack earned many of the film's biggest laughs in his on-screen performance as Dustin Hoffman's agent, it unexpectedly revived his acting career. (Pollack took on the role at Hoffman's insistence; the actor apparently thought that the movie could benefit from the brio that Pollack brought to the many legendary screaming fights that the two of them were having off-camera.) After Tootsie and Out of Africa, he directed such big pictures as The Firm, Random Hearts, and The Interpretor; he also contributed memorable performances to Robert Zemeckis's Death Becomes Her, Woody Allen's Husbands and Wives, and Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut, where he was brought in an emergency replacement for Harvey Keitel. In the last several years of his career, he also branched out as a producer of others' films, including The Fabulous Baker Boys, Sense and Sensibility, The Talented Mr. Ripley, The Quiet American, 40 Shades of Blue, and Michael Clayton, where he also played George Clooney's boss. He also served as executive producer on his own last film as a director, the 2005 documentary Sketches of Frank Gehry.

Rose McGowan: TCM's Latest Essential

Phil Nugent — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:00:00 GMT

So it turns out that Rose McGowan is a total movie geek! (Man, does Robert Rodriguez's cup runneth over, or what?) As of last month, McGowan has been supplementing her income by co-hosting Turner Classic Movies' "The Essentials", a weekly slot where TCM host Robert Osborne chews over whichever film classic has just earned the title designation with a regular partner. The show has gone through a different co-host every season, and most of them have been best known for their behind-the-camera talents, even if some of them, such as directors Rob Reiner, Sydney Pollack, and Peter Bogdanovich, have also dabbled in acting. Before McGowan, Osborne's last couple of sparring partners for Osborne were film critic Molly Haskell and Carrie Fisher, who has evolved from actress to professional wisecracker. Whether it was just the luck of the draw or the gender differences had something to do with it, both Haskell and Fisher juiced the show up a little; they were more inclined to turn prickly and even quarrel with the programming choices than their predecessors had been. McGowan's selection may have something to do with the desire to add some youthful glow to its viewing demographic that once had TCM lure Rob Zombie to its studios so that he could stalk out onto the set of what looked like his mom's basement and lecture viewers about Arch Hall, Jr. at two in the morning. But to listen to McGowan talk about movies is to see that the woman does have game. And she likes The Great Escape!

The Osborne-McGowan team has also torn through The Music Box and The Bad and the Beautiful, a movie that McGowan should probably remake, just so we can see her name on the posters next to that title. Of the selections coming up, McGowan is especially high on Charles Laughton's The Night of the Hunter, a hallucinatory masterpiece starring Robert Mitchum as a murderous preacher. “It’s heavy-handed, sure, I get it. It’s just so smart. It’s very much a classic metaphor for the big person to proclaim for all to hear how Christian he is, and then there’s Lillian Gish, who probably only weighs about 90 pounds. … And she’s the quiet Christian, and it’s her behavior that speaks for her about her Christian belief.” Of the TCM gig itself, McGowan says, “I had no idea that they were even going to pay me. Seriously, a job where I get to sit and discuss these movies? Are you kidding me? I’ve been boring my friends for years!” One can't help but wonder how any lost soul could become so miserably jaded as to ever be bored by the sight of Rose McGowan rhapsodizing about Laurel and Hardy, but perhaps she has better tastes in movies than in friends. Rose, call us! We'll introduce you to some really cool new people at Trivia Night.