The Screengrab : this is spinal tap

Anvil Speaks!

Phil Nugent — Wed, 20 May 2009 16:30:00 GMT

Stop Smiling, our very favorite regular grab bag of interviews with and mash notes to cultural figures, has an interview with Steve “Lips” Kudlow and Robb Reiner, the singer-guitarist and drummer who for more than thirty years have been the core of Anvil, the Canadian metal band who failed to fully launch into stardom after a few breaks in the early '80s, and who are now enjoying an unlikely late-career boost thanks to the movie Anvil: The Story of Anvil. The documentary, whose L.A. premiere was followed by a live performance attended by the likes of Dustin Hoffman--a sight that the guys liken to playing for the cover of Sgt. Pepper-- has inspired many a kneejerk comparison to This Is Spinal Tap, but the film itself is never mocking of its heroes, and its portrait of a lifelong friendship between two family men whose shared devotion to their music has sometimes been tempered by a fear that they're wasting each other's lives produces as many touching moments as it does comic ones. A labor of love, the movie was made by screenwriter Sacha Gervasi (The Terminal), who, having known the band members when he was sixteen, plowed his Hollywood riches into the movie.

"He came to us with the project," Reiner says of Gervasi. "He came back into our lives and tossed out the idea of making a movie. He became a film guy and we didn’t know that until we reconnected with him. Our story of never giving up and rocking out all these years inspired the hell out of him, and compelled him to make the movie," adding, "We gave him full access because we trusted him, you know? He was a friend."
Says Lipps, "All that he wanted to do was bring some justice to where he felt there had been an incredible amount of injustice, and he thought that on a number of levels this needed to happen. From his perspective, he thought that we should have made it a long time ago, because he felt that everybody had ripped us off. Then he discovered that was actually the case, particularly by looking at it in retrospect. When he went to go shoot people to find out how they felt about Anvil, there were virtually lineups. See, we were an obscure band that all the other bands listened to, and it’s just one of those kinds of things — just one of those anomalies that happened in the heavy metal genre. With us and bands like Captain Beyond, these are the underground sensations that stayed quiet to the mass public, though were the biggest things since sliced bread to the musicians they inspired. We come from that underground world. From Sacha’s perspective it shouldn’t have been that way. So he did something about it. And what’s great about all this is that we stayed underground and never sold out. At the end of the day, what the movie has done is create a testament to sticking to your guns and making it on your own terms." The guys are understandably wary about where their raised profile might lead now, though Lipps can volunteer this much about his drummer: "he probably wants to get the hell out of Canada." Reiner confirms this: "Yeah, it’s long overdue for Robb-o. I need to relocate. Who knows where the Promised Land is? It’s just not here."

Screengrab's Favorite Movies About Music: Fiction Edition (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 20:00:00 GMT

Last week, as part of our ongoing coverage of the South-By-Southwest Film, Music & Interactive Festival, we decided to get our collective groove on with a list of our favorite movies about real-live musicians.

But who says musicians have to be real to be memorable? Sure, Mitch & Mickey may be fictional characters portrayed by Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara in Christopher Guest’s faux-folkumentary, A Mighty Wind...yet despite the fact the duo never really existed, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when my lovely Polish bride and I danced at our wedding reception to that non-existent classic hit of sweet, sweet romance, “A Kiss At The End Of The Rainbow." And, sure, the real Sid Vicious was nice and all...but I have equally fond memories of Gary Oldman’s fictional version in Alex Cox’s Sid & Nancy.

To blur the lines of fiction and reality even further, this week’s list also includes movies about make-believe people affected by real musicians and real musicians transforming themselves into make-believe people as your pals at the Screengrab salute OUR FAVORITE MOVIES ABOUT MUSIC: FICTION EDITION!

THIS IS SPINAL TAP (1984)

Yes, we all know it's hilarious. But This Is Spinal Tap is a classic for more reasons than simple hilarity. This was one of the first major films to be classified a "mockumentary", and in order for the style to work at all, director Rob Reiner and stars Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer had to get all the details down cold. This meant concocting an elaborate backstory involving multiple group names, format changes, and a parade of dozens of drummers who met their respective ends under bizarre circumstances. But beyond the more obvious references, Spinal Tap had to walk, talk, and play like a real aging rock band, from the principles writing and performing their own songs before actual crowds to the shorthand that the band members have with each other, as when Nigel (Guest) calls out "GSM" during rehearsal to signal that he wants to practice the song "Gimme Some Money." The gambit worked -- numerous moviegoers at the time were convinced that Spinal Tap was a real touring act, and the movie quickly became a favorite of legitimate rock acts, who identified with such scenes as the group getting lost on their way to the stage. Soon enough, life imitated farce, and Guest, McKean, and Shearer began touring as Spinal Tap, even releasing a second album in 1992 entitled Break Like the Wind. Even today, Spinal Tap endures, both in its cinematic form and its real-life incarnation, with a tour coming later this spring.

24 HOUR PARTY PEOPLE (2002)

Steve Coogan has a motor-mouthed smart-guy comedian's dream role as Tony Wilson, TV reporter, pop theorist, and the man behind Factory Records, which brought the sound of Manchester to a postpunk world. Directed by Michael Winterbottom, the movie, which also provides plum roles for Shirley Henderson (as Wilson's first wife), Paddy Considine (as his sidekick Rob Gretton), Andy Serkis (as the deranged genius producer Martin Hannett), and Sean Hayes (as Ian Curtis), covers the first public performance by the Sex Pistols, the rise and end of Joy Division, the band's resurrection as New Order, the slaphappy career of the Happy Mondays and the coming of rave culture, and Factory's death throes, with Coogan's Wilson walking through it explaining himself and the culture he's part of, always talking a mile a minute. Coming from the cerebral Winterbottom, the movie itself could be called a sustained work of rock criticism, except that rock crit hasn't been this funny since Lester Bangs swigged his last bottle of Romilar.

HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH (2001)

John Cameron Mitchell energetically transposed his hit off-Broadway show to celluloid with 2001’s Hedwig and the Angry Inch, the story of a transsexual punk rock goddess named Hedwig (Mitchell) who narrates her life story while travelling across the country playing second-rate venues, her shot at stardom stymied by a former lover and disciple (Michael Pitt) who became a music sensation by stealing her songs. Hedwig’s is a lunatic odyssey which begins in East Berlin where, as a young boy, she undergoes a sex change operation in order to marry her U.S. army lover and escape the Iron Curtain, and which is partially conveyed via a bevy of musical numbers and animated sequences that are striking in both their ingenuity and power. Bolstered by rollicking, blistering tunes that are as well suited for arenas as they are for the stage and screen, Mitchell’s film is rowdy, bombastic, idiosyncratic and heartfelt, a combination to which only a select few movie musicals can legitimately lay claim.

THE DOORS (1991)

A close friend once derided The Doors’ music as “bad poetry with keyboards,” and while I’m generally inclined to concur with his assessment, there’s nonetheless something transfixing about Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic, which has the type of on-the-edge, trippy-druggy dynamism that typified the director’s creatively fertile early-‘90s period. Stone’s anything-goes aesthetic showmanship is an ideal approach for a portrait of the L.A. band and, in particular, lead singer Jim Morrison, whose larger-than-life persona – drunken fool, callous bastard, earnest poet, sex god – naturally appealed to a filmmaker fascinated with mythologizing socio-political icons. The Doors oozes reverence without alienating those who might think the film’s subjects and their classic-rock canon fall somewhat short of greatness, due in part to uniformly superb performances led by Val Kilmer’s pitch-perfect embodiment of the lizard king, but mostly thanks to Stone’s lack of inhibition, his madman stylistic excesses (and yes, I’m including the Indian in the desert), supremely well-attuned to the careening rollercoaster energy of The Doors.

VELVET GOLDMINE (1998) and I'M NOT THERE (2007)

With these two films, Todd Haynes has produced the finest examples of fictional rock movies that I can imagine. Both have taken the lives of real rock musicians -- Bowie & Iggy in the former, Dylan in the latter -- and played up the mythic qualities to create a transcendent hyper-reality. No, Bowie and Iggy and Dylan didn't really live like this. But speaking from the point of view of poetry and mythology and literature, these are more true than mere reality can manage. That's what myths and stories are about: heightening everyday reality into a more universal truth. Most people's lives aren't up to the examples set by Ulysses or Hercules or even Ishmael or Natty Bumppo. But I think few would deny that there's a universal recognition of the truth in the lives of these wandering heroes. Celebrities sometimes play the role of real-life analog to idealized heroes. That's why so many urban myths leap up about the lives of celebrities; people need to believe in the extraordinariness of others. Rock musicians in particular often play the debauched Dionysian role of the glorious artistic mess, the pleasure-seeker who indulges in sex and drugs to feed his or her creative output. With these movies, Haynes pushes past the mere facts to feed the stories, and the results are fascinating, part narrative and part critique. In Velvet Goldmine, Christian Bale plays a journalist in an Orwellian Britain of the late '80s. A series of events causes him to investigate -- and recall -- the heyday of glam rock and its figurehead Brian Slade, who is basically the Platonic ideal of David Bowie (with elements of Brian Eno thrown in for good measure) as played by Jonathan Rhys Meyer. Slade's closest associate is Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor), who is mostly Iggy with a little Lou Reed thrown in. The two are lovers, and Slade gleefully expresses his fluid sense of sexuality. So there's three layers right there: Orwellian future, permissive past, rockers as trangressors. But there's more. Haynes dares to suggest that the bisexual/creative impulse was a gift from aliens (or angels) to Oscar Wilde in the Victorian era, and has passed down through the ages to the instigators of glam. That's, well, audacious as all hell. Haynes specifically compares Slade to both Wilde and his horrendous creation Dorian Gray. So, that's at least two more layers, maybe more. So, yes: gay theory, rock theory, lit theory, treatises on repression and freedom combined with the cults of youth and beauty. There's a lot going on in this movie. And it rocks like hell.

In I'm Not There, Haynes similarly adopts all of the myths about Bob Dylan into a narrative that's both fractured and more meaningful than a straightforward film could convey. There are six Dylans in this film, which is fewer Dylans than real life has given us. But these six Dylans represent the greatest periods of his life. Marcus Carl Franklin, an 11-year-old African-American boy, represents the youngest Dylan myth, the farmboy who rides the rails calling himself Woody Guthrie, learning America's traditional folk and blues music along the way. Ben Whishaw plays the interior Dylan, the playful interviewee who calls himself Arthur Rimbaud and comments cryptically on the rest of Dylan's life. Christian Bale plays the young and sincere New York folksinger Dylan, the socially active songwriter who calls himself Jack Rollins and travels to the South to sing to Civil Rights workers in a field. Rollins will later morph into Pastor John, the born-again Christian Dylan of the late '70s and early '80s. Heath Ledger plays the actor Dylan, the one who is horrible to his beautiful wife and torn in two by their divorce. His name is Robbie Clark and his wife, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg, is Claire, and their story evokes the mid-'70s Dylan of Renaldo and Clara and Blood On The Tracks. Cate Blanchett plays Jude Quinn, the rock star Dylan of the mid-'60s and Don't Look Back. Quinn is explicitly shown as dead from a motorcycle accident at the beginning of the movie, which references Dylan's 1966 motorcycle accident which effectively killed off his Don't Look Back-era persona. Richard Gere plays Billy the Kid, who is the Dylan of The Basement Tapes, John Wesley Harding, and Sam Peckinpah's Pat Garrett And Billy The Kid. Gere's Billy lives in Riddle County, where the carnivalesque/Old West/Old Testament world of the Basement Tapes springs to life. So, that's the shallowest overview I could provide, and it more or less ate up all my space. Layers and layers in these films. Watch 'em again. And again.

Click Here For Part Two, Three, Four & Five

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Paul Clark, Phil Nugent, Nick Schager, Hayden Childs

DVD Digest for January 20, 2009

Paul Clark — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 15:00:00 GMT

With the recent deep freeze that has stricken much of the country, now’s the perfect time to curl up in front of the television and watch a DVD. And don’t think the studios don’t know it.

DVD of the Week: The cream of this week’s DVD releases looks to be the snazzy new Criterion edition of Gregory Nava’s breakthrough film El Norte. This lovely mini-epic about a pair of Guatemalan refugees venturing north to America, Nava’s film told a too-common story that hadn’t been successfully dramatized in movies before. Shooting the film largely on the fly, Nava and his wife/collaborator Anna Thomas helped to kick-start the American independent film movement by redefining the sorts of movies could be made with limited means. Both the standard edition and the Blu-Ray edition include a new commentary track by Nava, interviews with Nava, Thomas, and the film’s principal actors, Nava’s 1972 student film The Journal of Diego Rodriguez Silva, and more. At a time when “Sundance movies” have practically become a formula unto themselves, El Norte is a reminder that independent film can be more than just a cliché.

Also this week in classics is Criterion’s standard-format edition of Douglas Sirk’s Magnificent Obsession, which also includes a remastered version of the 1935 John M. Stahl original. Or if you like your weepies more contemporary, there’s always The Notebook Limited Edition Gift Set (Warner, also Blu-Ray).

This week’s slate of recent releases coming to DVD is headlined Saw V (Lionsgate, also Blu-Ray), the latest entry in a series that will surely continue as long as there are people willing to come up with convoluted ways to kill off characters. Also this week: Mark Wahlberg in the video game adaptation Max Payne (Fox, also Blu-Ray), the story of Heisman winner Ernie Davis in The Express (Universal, also Blu-Ray), the family films Igor (MGM, also Blu-Ray) and City of Ember (Fox), Jonathan Rhys-Meyers in the “a white man shall free them” drama The Children of Huang Shi (Sony), the cult-ready musical gorefest Repo!: The Genetic Opera (Lionsgate, also Blu-Ray), and the direct-to-DVD horror movie Amusement (Warner, also Blu-Ray).

In TV on DVD, this week brings The Rockford Files Season 6 (Universal), Emergency! Season 5 (Universal), and Moonlight: The Complete Series (Warner).

Finally, this week’s Blu-Ray only titles is highlighted by the enduring classic This Is Spinal Tap (MGM), in an edition that boasts all of the extras from MGM’s standard-format edition. Also this week: Jennifer Garner in 13 Going on 30 (Sony), Denzel Washington’s Antwone Fisher (Fox), Tony Scott’s Domino (Warner) (for my money, the most underappreciated movie of the decade so far), Alexander Payne’s Election (Paramount), Steve Martin making an ass of himself in The Pink Panther (Sony), and Richard Gere and Diane Lane in Unfaithful (Fox).

Paul Benedict, 1938-2008

Phil Nugent — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Paul Benjamin, who died this week at the age of 70, was a character actor in the all but lost tradition of classic Hollywood comedies, the missing link between the likes of Mischa Auer and Franklin Pangborn and the counterculture improv theater of the 1950s and '60s. With his lanky frame and elongated jaw--the result of a childhood illness--he seemed to have been built for a career in the Sunday Funnies, and when he spoke, he had a special gift for seeming both professorial and slightly insane. In one of his earliest film roles, in Milos Forman's Taking Off (1971), he counseled a meeting of middle-class parents trying to figure out how to better understand their teenage kids on how to smoke marijuana. He followed that up by playing sidekick to Alan Arkin in the little seen Deadhead Miles (1972), which was written by Terrence Malick; gave Christianity a bad name as a frontier clergyman with the sniffles in Jeremiah Johnson (1972); lectured partygoers on the tribal mating rituals in Up the Sandbox (1972); helped Bruce Dern pass for normal as one of the California rotary club types in Smile (1975); helped David Warner pass for almost sort of normal as his Teutonic butler in The Man with Two Brains (1983); and tried to school Matthew Broderick in the art of film as the immortal Professor Arthur Fleeber in The Freshman (1980). He was also a recurring figure in the Christopher Guest mockumentary industry, with small roles in This Is Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman, and A Mighty Wind (2003). For all that, he was probably best known to most people as the giddily unsocialized Mr. Bentley on The Jeffersons, a job that he held down for ten years from 1975 to 1985, and one that left most of the country stubbornly convinced that Benedict, who was born in Silver City, New Mexico, was English. He also had a recurring role as the Number Painter on Sesame Street.

A theater veteran, Benedict also directed the original off-Broadway production of Terrence McNally's Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune, starring Kathy Bates and Kenneth Welsh, in 1987, and co-starred with Al Pacino in a 1996 Circle in the Square production of the Eugene O'Neill two-hander Hughie. Last year, Benedict, who made his home at Martha's Vineyard, appeared in the American Repertory Theatre production of Harold Pinter's No Man's Land in Cambridge. His last film appearance was in the 2004 Pierce Brosnan movie After the Sunset.

OST: "This is Spinal Tap"

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 21:00:00 GMT

Song parodies are tricky business. Done well, they're delightful, working on their own terms musically, delivering on the joke, and rewarding the listener for spotting the various musical and comedic references. Done poorly, they're about the lowest form of music there is. One of the reasons that the ouevre of Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer works so well (and here we include This is Spinal Tap, which, although directed by Rob Reiner, was written by the three performers in much the same way that the later, Guest-directed films like Best in Show and A Mighty Wind would be) is that they have some degree of genuine affection for the medium they're skewering. If Guest and company simply despised heavy metal, their parody would fall flat -- their unfamiliarity with or contempt for the music would result in unconvincing musical numbers, and their lack of feeling for the characters and the milieu would come across as patronizing rather than funny. It's an undying tribute to how successful their parody truly was -- and how deeply it comes across as both affectionate and mocking -- that amongst actual heavy metal musicians, This is Spinal Tap is treated with the kind of reverence normally saved for people who play it completely straight. The movie gets it just right, and real metal musicians know it.

One shouldn't minimize Reiner's contribution to the film -- he's a much more technically sure-handed director than Guest, and he did provide some of the funnier lyrics to the fictional group's songs -- but it's never hard to figure out, from the delightfully offhand, improvised quality of much of the dialogue to the fact that Guest, McKean and Shearer not only wrote all the music, but performed it themselves without the aid of the usual ringers, who's responsible for Spinal Tap's success. In a bizarre testament to the power of successful comedy, the soundtrack to This is Spinal Tap -- which, after all, is a movie about a comically incompetent heavy metal band -- became a huge success. Many of those who bought the soundtrack album no doubt did so as a goof, merely to remember the mocking songs of this groundbreakingly awful British hard rock outfit with the constantly rotating drummers. But many more bought it because, intended as a joke or no, these were damn good songs, written by damn good performers, who may have meant them to be insulting, but didn't do so from a position of ignorance. How good were they? So good that punk legend Mark E. Smith of the Fall lifted the riff from "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight" in its entirety for his own "Athlete Cured". So good that, when you take into account official releases and fan-created bootlegs, the fictional Spinal Tap has more records available than a lot of really good heavy metal bands that actually exist. So good that the aforementioned "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight" is something of a heavy metal classic despite its jokey genesis, and even appears in the video game Guitar Hero II alongside such genuinely legendary songs as "Freebird", "War Pigs" and "Billion Dollar Babies". And so good that the soundtrack itself, almost unique among movies in the musical spoof genre, is strong enough to stand on its own detached from the movie: if you have any affinity at all for the classic heavy metal sound, these are songs you're going to sing along to on your iPod even if you know, deep in your hard-rockin' heart, that they're really jokes at your expense.

BEST TRACKS: Aside from the indispensible "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight", with its merciless bassline and barely legal teen-queen lyrics, there's at least half a dozen stone classics on this soundtrack, even if they contain the seeds of their own destruction: "Big Bottom", the classic ode to fat fannies, has parazlyzingly funny lyrics to go along with its monster hook; "Hell Hole" is a tremendously catchy screamer with New Wave of British Heavy Metal influences so strong you can easily see Rob Halford belting it out instead of McKean's David St. Hubbins; and the Motorheady "Heavy Duty" is crushingly appropriate from a band that sometimes takes to the stage with three bass players. And if for some reason you don't like metal -- like, say, you don't enjoy things that are fun -- there's also the ludicrous hippie anthem "(Listen to the) Flower People" and the dead-on early Beatles parody, "Gimme Some Money". Go, Nigel, go!

This Is Anvil: Thirty-Year Heavy Metal Veterans Remade as Overnight Documentary Stars

Phil Nugent — Wed, 21 May 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Anvil is a Canadian heavy metal band that goes back to 1978, though the two core sustaining members, Robb Reiner and Steve Kudlow, first started playing together five years earlier than that, when they were fourteen years old. They've put out a dozen albums since 1981, mostly on small labels with such names as Attic and Viper, but they've managed to stay just this side of cult status. Now their big break may have arrived in the form of a movie: they star in the documentary Anvil: The Story of Anvil, which marks the directorial debut of Sacha Gervasi, who had his big break a few years back when Steven Spielberg directed The Terminal, from his original screenplay. Gervasi says that he's "grateful" for that experience, which he characterizes as having had "the greatest, most highly paid day job in the world." But after seeing his idea for a gentle, oddball little comedy turned into "their movie"--i.e., Spielberg's and star Tom Hanks's--he felt an urgent need to "make a statement I was in control of.” Anvil, which had a triumphant reception at the Sundance Film Festival, is shaping up as a positive career experience for Gervasi, his producer, Rebecca Yeldham, and the band itself, even if they are having to put up with hearing their life story compared to This Is Spinal Tap.

Actually, it could be that compared to Anvil, Spinal Tap didn't know from dues. Gervasi told reporter John Anderson that he knew he had the unconvinced Yeldham hooked when he took her out to dinner with Steve Kudlow and, as Anderson writes, "At some point during their meal Mr. Kudlow made a melancholy admission: During one of his many less-than-glamorous, non-rock ’n’ roll careers, he had delivered fish to that same restaurant. After all those years of lugging in the snapper and cod, this was the first time he had sat in the dining room." (Gervasi himself knew the band from when he'd worked for them as a roadie in the 1980s.) Inevitably, the buzz around the movie has now earned Anvil offers from record companies, including one that actually rejects them in the movie. For now, the band is happy to see how much promotion they can get out of the movie. Summing up the current state of his ambitions, Steve Kudlow says, “I can’t envision myself being a millionaire, but I can envision myself going to a gig every night and making enough money to make ends meet. I want to be the biggest bar band in the world and work endlessly.” Having played Sundance and Toronto's Hoc Docs festival, Anvil will soon be seen at the Brooklyn Academy of Music as part of its showcase presentation of this year's attention-getting Sundance entries.

The Rep Report (February 1-7)

Phil Nugent — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 17:00:00 GMT

NEW YORK: Since last Thanksgiving, Village audiences have been turning out in force at the Film Forum for I'm Not There, so the theater shouldn't have too much trouble drawing an audience for a week-long showing (February 1-7) of D. A. Pennebaker's Dont Look Back, the documentary record of Bob Dylan's 1965 tour of the United Kingdom, complete with Joan Baez singing away in her own little bubble, Dylan's notorious manager Albert Grossman auditioning for Tony Hendra's role in This Is Spinal Tap (and maybe Joe Pesci's role in GoodFellas), drop-in appearances by Donovan and Alan Price, and one of the all-time great pre-MTV music videos, with Dylan standing in the street flipping cue cards while Allen Ginsberg standing off to the sidelines looking as if he knows deep and ancient truths, even if he was really just wondering about the location of the buffet table. Released in 1967, Pennebaker's movie established Dylan as an icon of movie cool, much more effectively than his early attempts at actual movie "acting" (Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, Renaldo and Clara). If you've never seen it, you'll want to check it out to decide for yourself how the man himself compares with Cate Blanchett.

On February 1, as part of its "Golden Silents" program, the Film Society of Lincoln Center is hosting a special one-night event, a rare screening of Chang: A Drama of the Wilderness, a 1927, sixty-seven-minute film by the men who made King Kong, Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack. The simple story about a family farm in a jungle setting is a pretext for the exciting natural wildlife footage; the movie includes fights with big cats and a bang-up elephant stampede — make no mistake, animals were harmed in the making of this motion picture. But its mixture of awe in the face of natural beauty and man-on-safari edginess will help you understand why everyone in Hollywood understood that the jungle-raping showman in King Kong was a Cooper self-portrait. Live musical accompaniment will be provided by the Alloy Orchestra.

A Mighty Wind Blows Through Berklee

Peter Smith — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 17:00:00 GMT

Berklee nabbed themselves one of the awesomest honorary alumni ever this past Friday when they bestowed the Honorary Degree of Doctor of Music upon mockumentarist Christopher Guest. This was no dusty academic affair either, as Guest teamed with some twenty-five other musicians to bust out the Spinal Tap hits to an audience of 1200 at the Berklee Performance Center. Thinking of Chris Guest usually makes you laugh, but there's no denying the man's deep understanding of twentieth-century music. Time to re-watch Spinal Tap and pretend I was in Boston last week. — John Constantine

The Ten Best Deleted Scenes of All Time, Part 2

Peter Smith — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 18:00:00 GMT

THE CHIP REMOVAL SCENE, TERMINATOR 2

The premise of Terminator 2 is that Arnold Schwarzenegger's character, a cyborg who spent the whole first film trying to assassinate future revolutionary Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton), has now been reprogrammed to protect her family. In other words, he's the same soulless killing machine, but on a humane mission instead of a lethal one. So how does he acquire emotions, attachments and embarrassing slang words over the course of the film? That mystery is explained in this deleted scene, in which Sarah removes an inhibitor chip from the Terminator's head. (Fun fact: given the limits of special effects in 1991, the mirror effect was achieved by having Linda Hamilton perform surgery on a dummy head, while Hamilton's twin sister — seriously — stood on the other side of the mirror with actual Arnold.) The scene also includes a confrontation between Connor and her son which fundamentally changes the dynamic of their relationship, allowing him to take over as leader. (In the director's commentary, Cameron says he "agonized" over cutting this scene.)

"THIS BULGING RIVER", WAITING FOR GUFFMAN

We'd kill to spend a day sifting through Christopher Guest's cutting room floor. Guest films hours and hours of documentary-style footage for his improvised comedies, only a fraction of which end up in the final film. The DVD versions of This is Spinal Tap (which he co-wrote but didn't direct), Best in Show and A Mighty Wind are loaded with hilarious (and sometimes shockingly dark) deleted scenes. But our favorite is this giddy extended climax from Waiting for Guffman. Guffman follows a small-town community theater troupe as they cast, rehearse and perform an original musical, all the while increasingly convinced that they're heading to Broadway. This deleted musical number is an ingenious musical theater parody — with production values that are comparable to actual Broadway.

THE HOTEL CONFESSION SCENE, SUPERMAN II

Director Richard Donner had filmed more than half of Superman II when the producers removed him from the project, replacing him with Richard Lester. The theatrical version of the film is a hybrid of Lester and Donner scenes, and for years after its release, rumors swirled that a better film — the Donner cut — was buried in the Warner Brothers vaults. When the Donner cut finally came to DVD in 2006, it was a mixed blessing: on one hand, it's very clearly an unfinished film. On the other hand, it contains some marked improvements over the theatrical release. This scene, in which Lois cleverly forces Clark to reveal his identity as Superman, is one of those improvements. It packs far more of a dramatic wallop than the "oops-i-dropped-my-glasses-in-the-fire" reveal from the Lester version. Perhaps the ultimate deleted scene, this one was never actually filmed; it was edited together from Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder's separate screen tests.

DAVID DUNN AND THE PRIEST, UNBREAKABLE

Unbreakable, M. Night Shyamalan's hushed, atmospheric follow-up to The Sixth Sense, tells the story of David Dunn (Bruce Willis), a stressed-out family man who survives a horrific train crash. When David realizes that he was the only survivor — and no one can offer him an adequate explanation — he begins to explore the possibility that he may be something other than an ordinary human being. It's a clever premise, and Unbreakable is an underrated film, but there are some serious gaps in logic — i.e., how has David passed his fortieth birthday without ever realizing he's invulnerable? This deleted scene offers some much-needed insight. It also toys nicely with the stock character of the cinematic priest; we expect him to talk about fate and God's plan, which he does, but not in the way you're thinking.

THE PUMPKIN CARVING SCENE, DONNIE DARKO

The Donnie Darko DVD contains miles of deleted footage, much of which made it into Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut — and most of which, frankly, makes the film overly complicated and heavy-handed. The original theatrical release has a pervasive sense of mystery, and the film's unanswered questions are part of its appeal. That said, every new scene between Donnie and his family deepens the impact of the film's time-twisting climax. This one is our favorite. It's an ordinary moment between Donnie (Jake Gyllenhaal) and his sister Elizabeth (real-life sibling Maggie Gyllenhaal), that reveals the affection in their relationship yet hints of ominous things to come.

— Gwynne Watkins