Comedy Part two: Steamboat Bill, Jr.

This is the Buster Keaton film with the hurricane sequence at the end. The one where the house falls on Keaton, but the strategically placed window allows him to walk away unscathed. One of the reasons the movie holds up is this: the 1928 special effects are kept to a minimum (wavy etched cartoon lines to simulate electricity and a flying house that lands on someone, 11 years before "The Wizard of Oz").

Like Chaplin, we're left with an astounding record of a physical performance.

This time, I was struck by his acting style. "The Great Stone Face" is really a way of describing a very modern, barely minimalist technique. Here, he's surrounded by actors and they're acting, acting acting: not really that awful silent movie style - it was 1928, after all - but they all could have been in a Frank Capra movie, while Keaton seems to exist in his own space, sometimes just barely moving his eyes in reaction. He's Clint Eastwood for laughs.

But then, when he has to, he does something really great. Americans seem to hate clowns and they really hate mimes, but when Keaton has to mime something, he really shows us how it should be done: he has to "tell" his father silently, behind the back of the jailer, that there are tools for escape hidden in the stupidly large loaf of bread he's brought to the prison. So, sitting in a chair, using just his arms and the upper half of his body, he mimes his plan: the father can saw through the bars, bend them out of the way, climb out the window, and run away from the jail.
It's a lot like the Chaplin "Parker House Roll" bit that, I think, everybody knows.

And then there's that one shot: the camera backs away, the hurricane is in full swing, you're looking at two inches of mud as far as the eye can see, and there's Keaton right in the middle, really little more than a silhouette, slipping and falling and fighting against the wind. It's a real man-against-nature existential moment and I'm not sure if it affects everyone in the same way - it's really almost a cartoon at that point - but it's a moment when Keaton is really human, really funny, and really stands-in for all of us.

Movie Music II: The Third Man

No discussion of outstanding movie music is complete without "The Third Man" 1949. Directed by Carol Reed (a man) with a screenplay by Graham Greene, based on his own book. It starred Joseph Cotton and Orson Welles (together again after "Citizen Kane") and was a British film which won an Oscar - for cinematography.

But the other star of the film is Anton Karas, who plays the only instrument heard on the soundtrack, the zither. This would have been absolutely impossible to do in Hollywood in 1949. And it's difficult to say why the zither works so well in a movie about criminals in post-WWII Europe. It makes the film seem exotic and off-beat and it's one of the most memorable things about the movie. In fact, more people recognize "The Third Man Theme" than remember the movie itself. Karas seems to have done it all: wrote the music and played his solo instrument.
You can hear the music on the pompous David Selznick trailer on IMDB.

The music should be an inspiration to low-budget film-makers everywhere.

Ontology of Film

Talking about film ontology is a lot sillier than it sounds. Ontology is the "philosophy of being" and I'm using the term anytime film refers to itself. For example, I was lucky enough to see "Two-Lane Blacktop" (1971) in a movie theatre. It's a road movie about a cross-country race between two cars and their drivers (it's better than it sounds). After 1-3/4 hours or so, one of the cars gets on the road again after being repaired and then something happens: the film appears to get stuck in the projector, we see the sprocket holes, the film jams, then burns, then the screen goes black. After 12 long seconds, people started yelling: "Hey", "Fix it!" etc. About 20 seconds of silence later, the credits roll. The whole thing was fake, and we - the whole audience as far as I could tell - was definitely fooled. (And the whole stunt did have an existential point; what's been called in another context "instant Ingmar.")

A more recent example - I think you're ahead of me here - is that "inserting the porno frame" business in "Fight Club." But the whole lesson that Brad Pitt delivers in the middle of the movie was just that, a lesson. The true ontological moment of "Fight Club" was 1/24 of a second long: it's the porno frame that's inserted just before the film ends.



Now I had wanted to expand this to include the times when a film forces you to ask "What am I watching here?" Which is the effect "The Blair Witch Project" was going for. I suppose there were some people when it was first released who were drawn into that whole internet-tie-in-thing, but after that, we all just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

But reality TV has drained all the fun out of this impulse. When you're watching TV, and you ask "What am I watching here?" nine times out of ten you're simply watching something that's been staged. It's fake in some way so we just stop caring.



Brakhage - especially in his late films - may have been 100% ontological. I'm not sure. But there are very few ontological moments in commercial cinema, so if anyone can think of one, please let me know.

Chaminade Cinema of 2008

So I finally saw, on Mike's recommendation, "In Bruges" and was bowled over because, in my ignorance, I thought that Sean's recommendation, "Eldorado" (2008) was the Chaminade Film of 2008. But now I realize that these are two very serious contenders, indeed. So what is it with you Chaminade guys? Picking these movies that are thinly veiled morality plays? I'm scratching my head trying to come up with imaginary ad copy that sounds like: "If you liked "In Bruges" you'll love...." And I did come up with one: "State of Grace" (1990) with Sean Penn and Ed Harris which is a film about NYC Irish mobsters, but, wait, now I'm the one who feels guilty: you guys should be studying hard now and not watching movies...

It turns out that "In Bruges" (2008) is the first feature-length film by Martin McDonagh, the Irish playwright who wrote "The Beauty Queen of Leenane" (1996) which Mary and I saw and liked quite a bit.

"In Bruges" is a Catholic "Pulp Fiction." The screenplay and the acting are both really good. It seems unfair to quibble with his directing, since he's new at it (a soon as the guns come out, do we have to go to slo-mo?) His situation really reminds me of Preston Sturges, a writer from the 30's and 40's who got tired of what other people did with his screenplays and became a director. He made some very good movies, including "The Lady Eve" (1941) and "Sullivan's Travels" (1941) which is kind of an American "8-1/2."

In a dumb coincidence, I just saw "Cassandra's Dream" (2007) in which Colin Farrell plays another guy who's remorseful about killing someone...

Not so trivial Irish postscript: Uncle Don, if you're reading this, this one's for you, and I'm not making this up: Brendon Gleeson, one of the two male leads of "In Bruges"(the heavy-set one) is currently working on the film version of "At Swim-Two-Birds" set to be released in 2010.

Comedy Part One: The Glance

My appreciation of Oliver Hardy goes way back. I've got a home movie of my brother and I (I was the fat one, about 10, while my brother was a skinny 8 year old) in what looks like a shoving match, but was really our Laurel and Hardy imitation, the result of many hours of TV time.
Hardy mastered "The Glance": Laurel or someone else would do or say something particularly stupid, and Hardy would glance at the camera, as if to say: "Do you see what I've got to put up with?" or "Can you believe this?" And now I am absolutely certain that the root of this glance is Shakespearean: in "Midsummer's Nights Dream" Puck turns to the audience and says: "What fools these mortals be."
Hardy wasn't the first to do this in a movie. Fatty Arbuckle did it a few times in shorts made between 1915 and 1919. Arbuckle was the Godard of Comedy: he'd toss off idea after idea after idea, then he'd just walk away from them and let everyone else use them.
"The Glance" forms a bond between performer and viewer and gives us that ontological tension too: just who is it looking at the camera? the character in the script? or is it Oliver Hardy himself?
All this, and it's funny, too.
Charlie Chaplin tried it once (I think), Eddie Murphy does it, and Steve Martin has tried it. But Oliver Hardy, the master of economical comedy, perfected it.
The most famous glance at the camera is not funny at all, and it's the glance of Raymond Burr (the murderer) in "Rear Window."I'd say the whole movie is built around that glance.

Two movies - and that's a wrap

Paths of Glory (1957) - banned in France and Spain for many years - This is a great example of a concise screenplay. Clocks in at 1-3/4 hour. Compare it to big, baggy, and ponderous Schindler's List at way more than 2 hours. (And I like Schindler's List!) Sorry, but this is why you have to see Citizen Kane, because those deep-focus shots inside the general's drawing room are lifted right out of "Kane" made 16 years earlier. Everyone remembers the tracking shots inside the trenches, but my favorite is the tracking shot in the courtroom from behind the backs of evenly spaced soldiers, setting up a visual rhythm worthy of Maya Deren "Meshes of the Afternoon" (1943).

I had never realised that it's Ralph Meeker behind that beard who's one of the executed soldiers. He's one of my favorite actors and he's the leading man in my next Must See Recommendation: "Kiss Me Deadly" 1955, by Robert Aldrich.



Cassandra's Dream (2007) Woody Allen in serious mode and not successful at all. Here's an example of why you cannot blame the actors for a bad movie. Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell really do good work here, but they can't save a sinking ship.

Have a great weekend everyone.

Critics

Regarding movie critics, I'd like to start with recommendations and end with a request.
My favorite film critic, Camille Paglia, really doesn't write about movies very much. I check in with her at Salon.com once in a while, where she mostly writes about politics. (She teaches at a college in Philadelphia... I wonder if she ever gives public lectures.) She may be the smartest person in America, now that Jane Jacobs has passed on. Anyway, her little paperback "The Birds" is one of the best examples of film criticism I know. You have to see the movie, then read the book, then you'll want to see the movie again.
The best guy with information about "forgotten" American directors is Andrew Sarris, who's really informative about directors of the 40's and 50's. He's the guy who really popularised the Auteur Theory.
But my favorite criticism occurs during the movie: the DVD of "Basic Instinct" (1992) had, instead of a director's commentary (Paul Verhoeven), a commentary by Camille Paglia. It was great! There may be other versions of the DVD that do not have this commentary and I cannot find reference to it on Amazon where, presumably, someone would be purchasing the DVD. I highly recommend listening to this commentary (whether you like Sharon Stone or not) but I wish I could find a directory of DVDs with critics instead of directors (remember Intentionality?) doing the talking.
If anyone has any guidance on this subject, let me know.

Zoeisms

Right now - September 3 - you can go to imdb.com, then look in the upper left corner "videos", and press the blue arrow until you come to "Rachel Zoeisms" which is one minute's worth of pure Michael Costagliola video editing.
It's a cliche that many movie trailers are better than the movies. And it's true. And it's true here, too. Take it from me: Mary and I sat through one hour of Rachel Zoe and, I promise, we will never do it again.
Here's what I like: Mike starts off with some sound that's (just barely) in sync, but then, after establishing that (for people who've never seen the show) it's the blond woman doing the talking, he mixes up synch shots with voice-over with those video-stuttering effects because, he's realized, that you really don't care if anything is in sync or not. The sound is so good and the camerawork is so poor that I think this could work as a radio commercial, too.
Anyway, I think Bravo will miss Mike. If they were smart, they would have made him sign a contract or something...

Movie Music

What's your favorite movie score? The question just reminds me of the days (the 60's) when my mother would see a movie, then go out a buy the record (Dr. Zhivago, Lawrence of Arabia) and we'd listen to those lush symphonic arrangements while images of the movie danced in our heads.

Hollywood types used to say that they'd want you to be whistling the score as you're walking out through the lobby of the movie theatre. And, I must admit, this happens to me when I watch a Marx Brothers movie; they just hammer the same tune dozens of different ways throughout the film, and always end with it.

When Mike asked me the question (or I asked him - I forget which) I tried to sharpen it to: Which films use music most successfully? And I thought of "A Clockwork Orange" right away because the classical music (played with synthesizers, Mike reminded me) gives a retro feel to it's dystopian view of the future. And Beethoven, after all, is part of the plot.

But "8-1/2" is really a film where it's impossible to separate the music from the images. Marcello Mastrianni actually hums the soundtrack music as he goes about his business.

And "Psycho", once again, is pretty amazing. Three or four notes on a violin can still make people recall the movie.

For 60's minimalism, I have to mention "The Birds." There's no music whatsoever on the soundtrack (really- even when the credits roll at the end) and the only motivated music is from the radios people use when they're trying to get the latest news on the bird attacks.

My personal favorite is "Mean Streets." I don't think there is a single note written for the movie. The soundtrack is a collection of hits from the 50's and 60's, so the music tells you something: this is what these guys listen to.