“Coney Island of the Mind”

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When Ben Hur most recently appeared before the camera, it was the fifth time a movie had been made of General Lew Wallace’s Tale of the Christ. In all five of the Ben Hurs, the stirring chariot race is the defining scene. Not a stone of Herod’s Hippodrome in Jerusalem, the historical setting of the chariot race in Wallace’s fiction, has been found. No matter. The ancient race-track stadium is bright and bold in our collective imagination. Pacing and spectacle…wrecks and danger…unmitigated excess and excitement…and the glory of God crowd the arena.

The 2016 producers requested use of the Circus Maximus in Rome to shoot the film’s signature chariot race; they were denied. So they set about filming the race on a partial arena constructed outside Rome for the shoot and used drones, GoPro cameras, post production special effects, CGI (Computer Generated Images), blank sound stages, and green screen to re-create the race. 

As near Rome’s ancient Circus Maximus, Cinecittà (Cinema City), Rome’s massive film studio hub, was constructed by Mussolini in 1937 as Europe’s biggest complex to revive the dimming Italian film industry and as an organ of propoganda. By the 1960s Cinecittà had been dubbed “Hollywood on the Tiber” because it was the site of so many American productions. In fact, many films set in ancient Rome were shot at Cinecittà including Quo Vadis (1951), the runaway production of Cleopatra (1963), and of course, the most honored Academy Award winning film of all time, the 1959 version of Ben Hur (There is an 11-Oscar-winning three-way tie among Ben Hur, Titanic [1997], and The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King [2003]).

After determining that a Rome “more like Rome than Rome” couldn’t be found in some other European city for less money, and ancient Rome couldn’t be found in the Roman ruins just outside the studio’s gate, director William Wyler approved more than 300 set designs and built his ancient world on more than 340 acres at the Cinecittà Studios. The largest of these sets, and the largest set ever built to that time, the chariot arena, was a 2,000-by-65-foot set that covered 18 acres. Although tour buses visited the set to observe the spectacle of the chariot race shoot every hour, matte shots would obliterate the reality of modern day Rome just outside the studio gates. So too, matte shots completing the 1926 race track set had kept the new Hollywoodland sign unseen behind the arena. 1000 extras, more than 100 horses, and Hollywood’s beautiful people were among the race’s spectators. The 1959 race’s similarity to the silent epic’s race is no mere coincidence: the young William Wyler was among the army of assistant directors who had engineered shooting the silent era race on 42 cameras on the MGM back lot. 

The studio replicates reality to become settings of movies as well as making the movie in the studio is a reality, as such…the studio is the first Virtual Reality. The world outside the studio gates is re-created by and at the studio—from Ben Hur’s Hippodrome to the Star Wars franchise's galaxy far, far away; while in other movies, the plot takes place set within The Dream Factory—studio sound stages and back lots are the setting of Day for Night (1973), Sunset Blvd (1950), The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), The Player (1992), and many other films including this year’s LaLaLand. In this Damien Chazelle musical, the happy ending is a choreographed montage of unreal experiences, including walking along the Seine on a painted studio set of Paris.

The Cinecittà Studios’ sound stage and back lot continue to prove a provocative passport for our imaginations. In 2016 Karl Lagerfeld staged Chanel’s cinematic runway show at Rome’s Cinecittà Studios. Lagerfeld’s invited celebrity guests began the evening with cocktails on the “Antica Roma” (Ancient Rome Set). The fashion show was staged on Federico Fellini’s favorite, Sound Stage 5, used for Satyricon (1969), Fellini’s tale of decadent, ancient Rome.  A tribute to the style of Paris, Lagerfeld’s Chanel fashion show was staged with statuesque mannequins and louche male models looping around a Paris Metro Station set. It was a world of absolute glamor. The couture models round the sound stage—the celebrity spectators can’t be sure where to look next…excess stalks their track; excitement stokes their imagination.

 

“To Hear Sleigh Bells in the Snow”

Delicious home-cooked meals out in the country…two-martini lunches in town…surprise invitations…impromptu family gatherings…parties hosting fun neighbors, old friends, and charming acquaintances. As this joyous holiday season rolls into Christmas week, I will find simple worship and good will. Anticipation of Christmas Day soars, and so I set aside one quiet night at home among the excitement and joy of the celebrations to enjoy a favorite holiday movie. 

I light the tree, glittering with decorations from my childhood in concert with happy holiday ornaments added to the tree this season. I inventory the gold wrapped gifts with red satin bows. A knowing gift for a friend of longstanding anchors the pyramid, while I can locate the old-time train set with a track that runs around the tree, and a special gift for a new friend among the monumental stack of presents. The holiday sleigh bell hanging from the silk ribbon around his neck jingles, and I invite my gorgeous white cat—dutifully investigating the packages—to join me for some Hollywood Christmas spirit. 

I’ve chosen to screen White Christmas, the season’s Technicolor ground zero. White Christmas with its wonderful Irving Berlin score building to the finale when that old war horse and the audience join Bing Crosby and his crimson-costumed troupe singing the classic title tune. The scenery backdrop rises magically out of the frame as they sing, and the Christmas tree on stage is instantaneously framed by the white Christmas snowfall in all its glory outside.

And suddenly I admit I just can’t take two hours of Danny Kaye again and I hit the remote. And as suddenly I’m hooked: a big city Marketing VP, too career-motivated to be concerned with Christmas, slips on the ice and falls (just hard enough) on the wintry rush hour street…I comandeer one of the holiday cookie tins I’ve designated as hostess gifts from atop the stack of wrapped presents…the VP wakes up safe and sound the following morning in her bucolic home town…I reach for my throw…married to her high school sweetheart’s best friend...I pour myself a Malbec and my cat and I settle in…in 1947…I hope the hell I have sea salt caramel gelato in the freezer.

Since the Wednesday-through-Sunday Thanksgiving Festival, I’ve been binge watching the Hallmark Channel Christmas Movies. 

By the time I hit my stride, I was juggling this year’s Hallmark titles with the archived movie library—Teri Polo and Lacey Chabert, Lori Loughlin to Danica McKellar, non-stop, watching the movies in segments…out of sequence…on two stations…until I just stop watching…or I switch to finish up on DVR later. By now this Yuletide stream has morphed into one marathon Christmas Odyssey. The latest cookie bake-off, department store window dressing contest, Charity Firemen Calendar shoot, airport-closing blizzard, Grandma’s Christmas Theme Park or family Christmas tree stand real estate sale, magical music box, clock, or tree ornament, haughty future mother-in-law, omniscient bell-ringing Santa, and precocious niece who magically wishes her busy Professional Shopper aunt can only tell the truth are one gigantic red and green costumed epic Christmas pageant. Introverted princes, staid CEOs, ambitious TV anchors, stoic widowers, charming cowboys, temperamental chefs, and professional athletes cold and indifferent alike—like all the Jean Valjeans on one stage at a Les Mis Anniversary Concert—reveal hearts of gold by the final fade out snowfall…can you believe the size of those snowflakes?

My high-rise condominium doesn’t allow fresh cut Christmas trees: City Fire Ordinance. Did you ever try to get your cat to wear a bell?  Not a single flake is falling tonight on the Square below my windows. But I have the wrapped present for my friend… and I have that train set, and the perfect toddler to enjoy it.  And I have my cat and my memories of Christmas. And I wouldn’t trade my Christmas for all the gingerbread men in Santa Clause, Indiana. Perfect. And I wish the same for you.  Merry Christmas!

The Dancing Divinity

Sonnie Hale and Jessie Matthews in "Dancing On The Ceiling," Ever Green (1930)

Sonnie Hale and Jessie Matthews in "Dancing On The Ceiling," Ever Green (1930)

 What a setpiece! What a song! When Producer Florenz Ziegfeld deemed the song “He Dances on My Ceiling” as “too complicated,” composer Richard Rodgers cut it from Ziegfeld’s upcoming 1930s Broadway musical Simple Simon. The song re-surfaced later that same year as “Dancing on the Ceiling” in Rodgers and Hart’s hit London stage musical Ever Green. 

Ever Green was West-End star Jessie Matthews’s biggest stage success, running for 254 performances. The musical play was a London sensation, and the lavish production’s showstopper was "Dancing on the Ceiling." The play’s stars danced around a chandelier standing up from the floor to simulate dancing on the ceiling on London's first revolving stage. Later the play was adapted into the successful 1934 film also starring Matthews. (In the review of this movie, The New York Times mistakenly titled the song by its first line “The World Is Lyrical.”) 

 “Dancing on the Ceiling” is so good on screen that it can hold its own with the best Hollywood Golden Age musical numbers, that is, Fred Astaire’s movie dances. Fred Astaire, on stage in London during the shoot, was first choice to be Matthews’s dancer on the Ever Green ceiling. However, RKO said no to his taking the movie role opposite Matthews. Through the following years, Gaumont British Picture Company would also veto all attempts to bring Matthews to Hollywood to dance with Astaire. In Hollywood Astaire would be paired as famously with leading ladies as well as dance solo—with coat racks, photographs, canes, chairs, and his shadow, and most memorably on a Hollywood movie ceiling. 

But he was never paired with Matthews. On the other side of the Atlantic, Matthews would star in more than 30 British film and TV productions and become known as Britain’s “Dancing Divinity.” 

Astaire’s casting notwithstanding, when the Gaumont British Picture Company looked to shoot Evergreen in 1934, they assembled by choice and by chance, the British musical film “A Team.”  Sir Michael Balcon (Daniel Day Lewis’s grandfather) was the Producer. Director Victor Saville would direct films in both England and Hollywood. Noted playwright Emlyn Williams adapted the screenplay, meshing the title into a single word and further complicating the plot based on singer Lottie Collins, who had an illegitimate daughter who also grew up to be a famous actress. Several stage songs were substituted with new songs written by Harry M. Woods. In casting changes, Jessie Matthews had danced on the ceiling with her husband Sonnie Hale on stage; while Hale plays Leslie Benn in the film, Barry MacKay was cast as Matthews’ dancing partner. 

The best British musical film, Evergreen is a dancing knock-out. American Ex-Pat Buddy Bradley was the choreographer and driving force of the film’s production. Evergreen’s first production number is an extravagant Wellsian time machine dance homage on a futuristic set that echoes Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. The closing production number, “Over My Shoulder,” written for the movie, flashes transatlantic Busby Berkeley choreography. Unleashed between these numbers, Matthews’s frenzied strip tap dance sequence ignites the screen. Victor Saville’s musical film is galvanized by Matthews’s star performance. Years later, when asked about Matthews’s unique movie presence the director explained, “She had a heart. It photographed.” 

Twirling to tease the audience singing the introduction to Evergreen’s signature Rodgers and Hart song, Matthews flirts with playing the grand piano after Barry MacKay climbs the stairs. She poses on the window seat–Erté made flesh and blood—and dances around the dining room table—her chiffon dress moving with her as fluidly as her steps. She glides into her dance downstairs; while he dances upstairs in time with her…for her. But, make no mistake, “Dancing on the Ceiling” is all Jessie Matthews. 

Matthews effortlessly weaves athletic high kicks into lithe ballet-like movement. You start to wonder if she will rise above the floor and take flight. Her dancing gracefully carries her through the white-and-chrome Art Deco flat and leads her to climb, then to dance on/with the staircase. Upstairs on the landing, she suggestively first considers opening his bedroom door, turns to postpone this inevitable meeting, and floats instead through her door to her bed to dance into their dreams and movie musical history.

“…the Traffic is Terrific.”

(…continued from last week)

North Carolina Cape Fear (1962, J. Lee Thompson; 1991, Martin Scorsese) Gregory Peck’s original is no contest, but if you can tear your eyes off Roberts Mitchum and De Niro, try to decide if anybody could be better than either Polly Bergan or Jessica Lange.

North Dakota The Far Horizons (1955, Rudolph Mate) The Lewis and Clarke expedition wintered in North Dakota and history records Clarke adopted guide Sacajawea’s children after her death; however, this movie is 100% history-gone-Hollywood.

Ohio The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942, William Keighley) Before Buñuel’s The Exterminating Angel, Sheridan Whiteside was the most difficult unwanted movie house guest to evict.

Oklahoma August: Osage County (2013, John Wells) A family crisis brings the Weston family back home—but nothing is crisis enough to make them get along…or get interesting.

Oregon Stand by Me (1986, Rob Reiner) Boys will be boys and it is fun to figure where Lachance, Tessio, Chambers, or Duchamp and the actors who played them are thirty years later.

Pennsylvania  Ten North Frederick (1958, Philip Dunne) Favorite-son John O’Hara takes a look at state politics with a May-December pairing of gorgeous Suzy Parker and Gary Cooper that is irresistible.

Rhode Island Reversal of Fortune (1990, Barbet Schroeder) Jeremy Irons won the Oscar for his role of Claus von Bulow, and is well-supported by no less than Uta Hagen in this criminally well-played study of the accused society murderer.

South Carolina The View From Pompey’s Head (1955, Philip Dunne) Hamilton Basso’s source novel was on The New York Times Best Seller list for 40 weeks. Now like the film adaptation mostly forgotten, his story is often suspected a model for Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird.

South Dakota Badlands (1973, Terrence Malick) This road movie is already a crime genre gone stale and evidences the promise of a ponderous auteur as it follows yet another killer couple on a chase—this time across South Dakota.

Tennessee Nashville (1975, Robert Altman) Sprawling story about country music with 24 main characters. Keith Carradine’s Oscar-winning Best Song, “I’m Easy” is indeed easy on the ear and eye while the excellent scene in which it is sung (among one hour of musical numbers in the film) is top-drawer Altman.

Texas Blood Simple (1984, Joel Cohen & Ethan Cohen) Texas is the setting for many a good movie, and it hurts not to give the state nod to Giant. But let’s go with this NYU-rooted debut of the Cohen Brothers

Utah Tulse Luper Suitcases, Part 1: The Moab Story (2003, Peter Greenaway) First—and best—of the outrageous trilogy of sensational motion pictures from Greenaway’s extraordinary multi-media project.

Vermont Spellbound (1945, Alfred Hitchcock) Ben Hecht’s screenplay had censor issues; Oscar-winning score begins with an overture before the credits; and Salvador Dali dream sequence was massively cut—and it all still adds up to uber-suspense.

Virginia The Howards of Virginia (1940, Frank Lloyd) Much of this patriotic film was shot in Rockefeller’s newly restored Williamsburg Va. Made to drum up support for our entering World War II, this film offers one of the most unlauded Cary Grant performances.

Washington Twin Peaks (1990, David Lynch) Movie, pilot, series, and prequel—who the hell did kill Laura Palmer? Snoqualmie, North Bend, and Fall City, WA were locations for much of this hauntingly beautiful series.

West Virginia The Night of the Hunter (1955,  Charles Laughton, Robert Mitchum [uncredited], Terry Sanders) Expressionist and brooding, this superior and discomforting movie is based on 1932 murders in West Virginia and features those “L-O-V-E / H-A-T-E” tattoos on the serial killer’s hands.

Wisconsin Starman (1985, John Carpenter) This science fiction film morphs from extraterrestrial fable into genre Road Film on an itinerary from Wisconsin to Arizona.

Wyoming Brokeback Mountain (2003, Ang Lee) The Oscar-winning direction follows two cowboys on a summer in the Wyoming mountains that neither will ever forget.

American Samoa Rain (1932, Lewis Milestone [uncredited]) “Rain” was first in the movies when Scarface (Paul Muni) and his henchmen attended the play in Hawks’s gangster classic, Scarface;  Rain became a movie two years later with Joan Crawford as Rain's controversial Sadie Thompson on screen.

Guam Pixels (2015, Chris Columbus) Comedy about emojis and other undistinguished pop culture diversions. 

Northern Mariana Islands Windtalkers (2002, John Woo) If you want to enjoy the island beauty, you’ll have to endure Nicholas Cage.

Puerto Rico The Man With My Face (1951, Edward Montagne) Barry Nelson, first actor to portray James Bond on film, in a tropical Film Noir.

US Virgin Islands Weekend at Bernie’s II (1993, Robert Klane) Like the first needed a sequel. 

And

Washington DC Mr Smith Goes to Washington (1939, Frank Capra) When a regular guy finds himself at the Capitol, he puts the whole mess right. Yet another movie classic from Hollywood’s most celebrated year.

“From Atlantic to Pacific…”

There are lists of movies set in a specific state and as many incompatible lists of movies shot in a specific state. With Thanksgiving behind us and the holidays just ahead, visiting home states on-screen might get us ready to make that holiday trip home.

Alabama Big Fish (2003, Tim Burton) Touching Father-Son Fable: Albert Finney is larger than life—almost.

Alaska The Gold Rush (1925, Charlie Chaplin) Iconic silent movie comedy with prospectors dining on shoe-al- dente.

Arizona Johnny Guitar (1954, Nicholas Ray) Not even saloon owner Joan Crawford can steal the scene from Mercedes McCambridge.

Arkansas A Face In The Crowd (1957, Elia Kazan) Budd Schulberg’s screenplay was based on his political short story.

California Sunset Blvd. (1950, Billy Wilder) Hollywood’s classic look at movie stardom gone rancid.

Colorado The Shining (1980, Stanley Kubrick) Time Travel Package tour is the all-inclusive trip to hell—the Overlook Hotel.

Connecticut Christmas In Connecticut (1945, Peter Godfrey) Barbara Stanwyck gives another fine comedic performance in a seasonal favorite

Delaware Fight Club (2006, David Fincher) Wilmington City Motto notwithstanding, a stretch to attribute this one to the First State.

Florida A Hole In The Head (1959, Frank Capra) Mannerist Capra and pre-South Beach “name that hotel.”

Georgia Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997, Clint Eastwood) Jude Law impersonates a southern belle hustler in this political/mystical who-done-it.

Hawaii From Here To Eternity (1953, Fred Zimmerman) 8 Oscars and that sand-in-your-pants sex in the surf.

Idaho Duchess of Idaho (1950, Robert Z Leonard ) Esther Williams with an Eleanor Powell cameo so you’ll stop confusing dancer Powell with Eleanor Parker.

Illinois The Breakfast Club (1985, John Hughes) The Illinois high school movie without Ferris Bueller, this Brat Pack period piece is textbook coming-of-age fare.

Indiana Hooisers (1986, David Anspaugh) After the Hooiser state gave us “the Gipper,” and before the same director and screenwriter (Angelo Pizzo) will look to Rudy on the Indiana gridiron, the cinematic pair first looked to hoops.

Iowa State Fair (1945, Walter Lang) Only Rodgers and Hammerstein piece written directly for movies—the melodious songfest features Oscar-Winning “It Might As Well Be Spring.”

Kansas Wizard of Oz (1939, Victor Fleming) No brainer, Toto, just click your heels and go home.

Kentucky Coal Miner’s Daughter (1980, Michael Apted) Great performance by Sissy Spacek drives this elegiac American biopic.

Louisiana A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, Elia Kazan) Brando didn’t get the Oscar for this one—but his “Stella, Stella” changed screen-acting forever.

Maine Dolores Claiborne (1995, Taylor Hackford) Secrets-sex-murder and domestic violence in an engrossing small town melodrama.

Maryland Blair Witch Project (1999, Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sanchez) The Black Hills Forest of Maryland is full of surprises—one being this cult movie’s quarter-of-a-billion-dollars box office receipts.

Massachusetts Little Women (1949, Meryyn LeRoy) As good as the 1933 original with a stellar cast and an endearing performance by Liz Taylor as Amy.

Michigan Tucker (1988, Francis Ford Coppola) Originally envisioned as a musical, without songs, Tucker manages to sing the praises of the American entrepreneurial spirit.

Minnesota The Long Riders (1980, Walter Hill) Four teams of acting brothers in a violent yet nostalgic film about the Jesse James Gang, last of the legendary Outlaw bands.

Missouri Waiting for Guffman (1997, Christopher Guest) The theater community of Blain, MO channels Broadway to stage a memorable musical comedy—“Red, White and Blaine.”

Montana A River Runs Through It (1992, Robert Redford) No one since Izaak Walton has done as much to promote fly fishing as an aesthetic occupation.

Nebraska My Antonia (1995, Joseph Sargent ) This obviously TV movie is the only adaptation of one of America’s greatest stories. Thus, it cries to heaven that Hollywood should take a better look at Willa Cather’s almost flawless novel.

Nevada Melvin and Howard (1980, Jonathan Demme) Without DiCaprio or Beatty overacting, you can follow Howard Hughes on the edge of your seat instead of cringing under it.

New Hampshire On Golden Pond (1981, Mark Rydell) The melancholy plight of Norman and Ethel Thayer becomes more poignant as Henry Fonda and Katherine Hepburn remind you that Studio System Stars could also act.

New Jersey Eddie and the Cruisers (1983, Martin Davidson) This Jersey shore rock-and-roll story about a music legend makes some interesting nods to classic cinema and genre filmmaking.

New Mexico The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1967, Sergio Leone) Third Installment in the “Dollars Trilogy.” Classic Spaghetti Western with Eastwood’s stoicism and Morricone’s music kissing the 1862 New Mexico Campaign brutally back to life.

New York The Best of Everything (1959, Jean Negulesco) Fabian Publishing where employees must face treachery, abortion, infidelity and the aging Joan Crawford to break through the glass ceiling.

TO BE CONTINUED

Trigger Warning

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In 1997, The House of Yes debuted at Sundance.  Its star Parker Posey―diva of independent cinema―deservedly won a special jury prize for her role as “Jackie O.” (Spoiler Alert: Freddy Prinze Jr is also actually good in this movie…hang on, Tori Spelling is better!) A comedy built around the cultural impact of the Kennedy Assassination, the controversial House of Yes is set outside Washington DC on the night before Thanksgiving. A storm rages outside. Marty and his new fiancé arrive to announce their engagement and join his twin sister, mother, and dim-witted little brother inside for the family holiday dinner. As the Kennedy assassination as well as the twins’ incest occurred and are commemorated during the Thanksgiving holiday season, we are in for a discomforting night before their equally unsettling holiday celebration. Think Kennedy meets Addams Family.

This esoteric black comedy undoubtedly would meet distribution as well as audience challenges today. And like movie taste, movie expectations, and the Thanksgiving family holiday, the film festival circuit that introduced it has also changed. Sundance has evolved from festival screenings to commercial launch pad. At the Sundance Film Festival this year, bids were record highs with Netflix and Amazon’s streaming demands now a consideration in play. Fox Searchlight broke records securing distribution rights for $17.5 million (almost double their record offer of around $9 million last year) in that bidding war. Sundance is Big Business today; deals are frantically brokered and as highly reported.

Film Festivals have now become part of the “Red Carpet Circuit.”  What wins at Tribeca, surprises at Toronto, and dominates at Berlin Festivals foreshadows “Award Season” and of course, the granddaddy of all hype, the Oscars. Recently at the Venice Film Festival, the most beautiful city in the world, the discussion on the Lido was not about the exquisite Tintorettos of the Scuola Grande di San Rocco or the knock-out Becerin at Café Florian’s; it was about Pablo Larrain’s first English language film, Jackie. Another Kennedy movie. But the first film specifically about Jackie Kennedy—and her place in history.

Jackie is neither based on credited sources nor does it claim to be. Instead it is the screenwriter Noah Oppenheim’s study of this—and here we can actually use the mantra blurted constantly without any basis whatsoever at red carpet coverage—“iconic” woman and the fabled 1000 days of the Kennedy Presidency. This movie is built around two historic media events: Jackie Kennedy’s ground-breaking, televised 1961 White House tour and her marathon, four-hour interview at Mrs. Kennedy’s invitation with Theodore White (played by Billy Crudup as an unnamed reporter) one week after the assassination. The movie is about the Camelot Era, specifically concentrating on the aftermath of JFK’s assassination in Dallas. There is already Oscar buzz about this film, mostly Oscar buzz about star Natalie Portman.

Several Christmases ago, a friend gave me Reading Jackie: Her Autobiography in Books. The book hits pay dirt as early as the introductory note that explains his referring to his subject as “Jackie” is not based on the author’s intimacy with her, but rather his realization that this is the study of a woman who was more than either Mrs. John Kennedy or Mrs. Aristotle Onassis…I propose we expand these and include more than prominent socialite Jacqueline Bouvier as well. William Kuhn’s book creates a vivid portrait of “Jackie” through her work as editor—specifically her aesthetic, research, and taste in selecting and managing her projects. Focusing on her editing career also illuminates her dedication to guard her privacy while as carefully to construct her public persona.

More recently I received a black-and-white postcard of the 1963 Kennedy motorcade from the 6th Floor of the Dallas Book Depository that now houses the museum that records the Kennedy Assassination.  The card made clear to me that in the half century passed, this gruesome historical event is ironically the historical legacy of that glamorous Camelot Era.

The bond among those who experienced the November 22, 1963 assassination of JFK on the Friday before Thanksgiving—“I can still remember the world stopped…Midterms…Thanksgiving… ” has inevitably diminished. Time has now distanced the event from all of us. Devastated national idealism has become societal disillusionment. Done deal. The anecdote describing a college kid at 1991’s JFK, snapping at a middle-aged couple seated behind him discussing the Kennedy assassination, “thanks…now you ruined the ending for me” is now apocryphal.

Consequently, just as we all have to question how much of Kennedy’s “Camelot” ever really existed, we can only surmise Jackie Kennedy’s role in inventing Camelot history. And so, reception to this new film–and the enigmatic woman it presents–will be both timely and thought-provoking.

“…almost through my memoirs…”

Kennedy Award recipient, Stephen Sondheim has Pulitzer Prize, Oscar, Grammy, and 8 Tonys, the most won by any composer in history, among his myriad awards. Six Sondheim plays have been adapted into motion pictures. Sondheim has written a screenplay as well as composed music directly for the movies and TV. A London performance of a Sondheim musical has been streamed worldwide. With this celebrated musical catalog, Sondheim has been the frequent—almost continual—subject of revivals, concert presentations, theatrical tributes, and documentaries. All these Sondheim projects—and more—are now digitally available.

 
James Lapine’s 2013 Peabody Award-winning documentary, Six By Sondheim, features Soundheim’s songs at its core. Each song is presented differently, that is, “Sunday” is presented in costume as staged on Broadway; “Something’s Coming” is sung by the original Broadway lead; “Opening Doors” is re-staged autobiographically; Sondheim’s most popular song, “Send in the Clowns,” is interpreted by a collage of stars who recorded it; “Being Alive” is presented in archival footage of the 1970 Broadway original cast album recording session; and “I’m Still Here” has been completely re-imagined for the camera. These six different portrayals allow each Sondheim song to illustrate specific aspects of his aesthetic. 
 
 “I’m Still Here” is dramatically re-imagined by movie director Todd Haynes. Jarvis Cocker’s 3-minute solo performance becomes the musical-movie equivalent of last century’s “6 Word Story” — a writing exercise gaining traction as a genre in 21st Century publishing.

The legendary Company cast recording session was already the subject of a documentary (Original Cast Album: Company), the pilot for an unproduced series. Seeing footage of this historic session a second time comes at you with both barrels because “Being Alive” brings home how overwhelming this closing song was as sung originally by Dean Jones who would almost immediately leave the Company production.

The 2006 Tony-winning Company revival (the John Doyle production with everybody in the cast playing a musical instrument) is also on DVD. So too the PBS Great Performances telecast of the New York Philharmonic concert version of Company shot at Lincoln Center April 7-9, 2011. The impact of seeing the recording session, revival, and concert again in tandem illuminates that making further electronic comparative sweeps of all these productions might better serve one’s appreciating Sondheim today than would seeing yet another revival of the 1970 play.

Like Lapine’s documentary, the Company concert on film continues to illuminate elements not so obvious in either the original production or stage revival.  Forty years after its opening on Broadway, albeit “of its time,” Sondheim’s biting music still sounds boldly youthful. George Furth’s landmark book, on the other hand, with sexual identity, recreational drugs, and living together before marriage as subjects has become charming, even nostalgic, in middle-age. This concert interpretation by a cast of TV stars (including some unappealing television personalities) along with lesser-recognized stage stars offers competent performances across the boards. However, unlike the cast of Doyle’s version on DVD, this cast does not succeed in morphing this 1970s ensemble show from revival into a new presentation. With one very telling exception...

The concert is quietly rocked by the star-power performance of Christina Hendricks as the dim-witted stewardess, April. Hendricks elevates the play’s slow-witted bimbo to an endearing screen bombshell and consequently catapults Company into the 21st Century.
When Hendricks leads Anika Noni Rose, and Chryssie Whitehead (both also excellent) confidently through their spin on Sondheim’s delightful “You Could Drive a Person Crazy,” a plot device trio of minor characters singing an amusing patter song explodes on stage. Suddenly, three savvy women are lead into the center of the plot by a very self-aware sex goddess. Hendricks appears so vulnerable and tentative at first that you fail to notice her subtly chewing up the scenery. Not for long.  Hendricks makes April pivotal to the plot and puts today’s sexual politics plainly on the table.

Sondheim employed a two-one-acts structure for Sunday in the Park With Georges, giving us the most moving first act curtain in Broadway history and adapted an Ettore Scola movie as his source for the compelling musical play, Passion. Thus, the idea of a Sondheim new 2017 musical, a two-part Sondheim musical pairing based on two Luis Buñuel’s films, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and Exterminating Angel, is uniquely promising.

Could there be anything more welcome than a new Sondheim play? Casting the Buñuel musical suggests an actress formidable enough to be a dinner guest from hell in one act as well as the kind of girl you would definitely want to invite to dine with you in the other. It would be fun to see Christina Hendricks’s name on the marquee among the cast of Sondheim’s provocative new show.

Life of the Party

Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Cliff (Publicity Proof) A Place in the Sun

Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Cliff (Publicity Proof) A Place in the Sun

A respected father celebrates his 60th birthday with his family and friends at the family-run hotel in the 1998 Danish Dogme film, Festen (The Celebration). Rising to his feet from among the dinner guests, the patriarch’s son makes a toast revealing that the guest of honor had sexually abused him and his late twin sister. The dinner party continues with the sister’s suicide note being read aloud, elder abuse, raunchy family anecdotes, ballroom dancing, racist sing-a-longs, and heavy drinking between courses—then it goes out of control. What will happen next? This is what they call a party in Denmark?

It would appear that a fun party does not a feature movie make in Hollywood either. Dinner at Eight (1933), the granddaddy of all party movies, opens with Millicent Jordan’s exciting social coup: she has snared this season’s most noteworthy guests of honor for her dinner party. As the movie details both the hosts’ and guests’ preparations for this party, their motivations are also revealed. Along with the dessert course, humiliation, suicide, sex addiction, financial ruin, class rivalry, terminal illness, and adultery have all also been served at the fashionable party.

Alfred Hitchcock’s movie dinner party, Rope (1948) expands this template to run in real party time.  Shot in long takes to appear without cuts, only five of ten edits are discernable. A pair of arrogant young murderers (Farley Granger and John Dall) flaunt snobbish class overtones as well as flirt with homoerotic undercurrents when hosting a buffet dinner. For their entertainment, they have not only just murdered their young friend but they have also stored his corpse below the buffet table. Tension builds among their party guests, particularly with the determined professor with whom the hosts play cats and mouse…cat and mice.

Arriving at their wreck of a house after the college President’s party, his Medusa of a daughter, faculty-wife Martha (Elizabeth Taylor) and husband George flail each other. Well in their cups from Daddy’s party, Martha coerced a junior-faculty couple there into joining them to continue their all-night drinking bash. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?’s (1966) hostess needn’t bother washing the dishes in the overloaded kitchen sink, already her ashtray. Unlike social hostess Millicent Jordan, Martha and George have already done a lifetime of party preparation playing their favorite parlor games, “Hump the Hostess” and “Humiliate the Guest.” When the doorbell rings, and Martha cruelly prophesizes, “Party, Party,” they (and the party) are off and running.

Indeed, we’re lucky not to have been invited to any of these parties. Fortunately, there’s a happy Hollywood exception. Before she went all Edward Albee on us, Liz Taylor was the radiant bride in The Father of the Bride (1950). Turning their home into Cinderella’s ballroom for his princess-daughter makes a happy full-length movie party, from the engagement announcement to the throwing of the bouquet—so happy, Hollywood did the party twice—once with swans—counting the happy remake.

Liz Taylor movie parties with shorter screen time and no re-makes also provide promising venues…in Giant (1955) a Texas barbecue in the hot sun celebrates newlyweds Bick and Leslie (Taylor).  A cooked beef head is the culinary pièce de résistance. When Bick notes, “boy, them brains is sure sweet,” upon her being served a spoonful of beef brains scooped straight from the skull, Leslie faints. But Texas barbeques don’t stop Leslie’s getting into the Texas swing of things—and fast. Consequently, once she gets her breath, Leslie doesn’t flinch in eye-to-eye rematches with an epidemic, discrimination, sexism, or with (ranch) Reata’s other cowboy jewel in the crown, James Dean.  

Taylor is so luminous in A Place in The Sun that George Stevens’s movie party sequence—regardless the movie’s brutal resolution—is screen legend. Uncle George’s spacious mansion is filled with guests in formal attire and Big Band dance music (Franz Waxman’s score won the Oscar) plays for beautiful couples in each other’s arms. Angela (Taylor) shimmers in her slightly-beaded Edith Head iconic white strapless gown as well as in William Mellor’s fabled close-ups of her exquisite face as she dances with tortured Monty Cliff. The camera captures Taylor’s expression of naïve worldliness and follows to keep up with the young lovers’ breathless rush through the guests, and out onto the terrace, so she can explode with childlike passion. “I love you too” —she gushes to Monty. A girl. And then her (supposedly improvised) legendary invitation/proposition, “Tell Mama, tell Mama all.” A woman.

Every party is a shot in the dark; you never know where it will go…like that holiday party you gave last year. And since anything can happen in the movies, you can be sure it will.

“Orangey” is the New “Yeller”

Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) and Cat (Orangey) in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) Publicity Shot.

Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) and Cat (Orangey) in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) Publicity Shot.

Argus Filch (David Bradley) and Mrs. Norris (Pebbles) in the Harry Potter series.

Argus Filch (David Bradley) and
Mrs. Norris (Pebbles) in
the Harry Potter series.

In Homeward Bound (1993), a remake of the 1955 live-action animal touchstone The Incredible Journey, two dogs and a cat travel 250 miles to get home. The dogs perform their tricks while the cat’s contribution is Attitude; in fact, the arduous road trip only happens because the note to resolve the plot is “accidentally” set afire by “Sassy,” the cat.

Cats, as anyone fortunate enough to live with a cat knows all too plainly, are just not into being tamed…much less trained. Several to many cats most often share playing a role on screen as the Olson twins did on TV’s Full House. The movie cat is usually played by a series of lookalike cats, each trained for one specific trick, a host of back-up cats, mechanical animatronic cats, “stuffies,” (background and/or stunt figures), and more recently computer generated images (CGI) in some combination.

“Cat,” Holly Golightly’s cat in 1961’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s, was played by the actor cat legend, Orangey. The ginger cat made his debut as title character Rhubarb (1951) who inherits a baseball team. Orangey won the Picture Animal Top Star of the Year (PATSY Awards) for both performances. He was highly in demand in Hollywood the decade between, including his role in The Diary of Anne Frank (1959) and was also a series regular as “Minerva” in long-running 1950s TV sitcom Our Miss Brooks.  A studio executive labeled the fabled Orangey the meanest cat in the world.

Cats are irresistible, and cat actors will continue to dominate their movies in tasteful cameos and featured roles. In the Bond franchise, Polish-born supervillain Blofeld has his blue-eyed-white Persian (neither the cat character nor the actor cat is ever named) unforgettably lounging on his lap. Blofeld-inspired parody gave us another movie pair, Dr. Evil (Mike Myers) and his hairless lap cat, “Mr. Bigglesworth” (SGC Belfry Ted Nude-Gent) in the Austin Powers movies.

As movie technology evolves, a leading cat can be made better to perform—as the cat actor becomes more optics than performance. We expect that—on screen as in life, cats are not inclined to be service animals—with one brilliant exception: The cat is central to Black Magic. The Harry Potter series features cats, Kneazels, and their half-breed progeny. Hogwarts School caretaker Argus Filch’s cat, “Mrs. Norris.” is all cat as played by Pebbles and two other Maine Coons who essay the role.  As the mesmerizing ally to the movie witch, cats exude particular glamor, intrigue, and sensuality. No one wants to see a spellbinding movie-witch served by a slobbering St Bernard. Black cat “Susie” unexpectedly appears at politician Wally Wooley’s front door when he arrives home one night in Rene Clair’s black-and-white witchcraft comedy, I Married A Witch (1942). Susie pays no attention to Wally’s admonition that she is not welcome and tears into the house to lead Wally to sultry witch Jennifer, (Veronica Lake) also uninvited, already awaiting them sitting in Wally’s arm chair.

Since it is Halloween, let’s look at the movie’s most mesmerizing familiar. Siamese “Pyewacket” in Bell, Book and Candle (1958) is named for the familiar spirit of a witch detected by the "witch finder general" Matthew Hopkins in 1644. The purring of witch Kim Novak’s beautiful familiar in their duet rendition of George Duning’s theme as well as their hypnotic close-up is more than enough to cast the love spell that both sets the story moving and runs it off track by Christmas.

OK…movies have promoted dogs as the animal hero since “Dick the Detective Dog” in the silent era. Of course, “Buck” in The Call of the Wild, “Rin Tin Tin,” “Old Yeller,” and the lovely “Lassie” have graced the screen in classic movies, remakes, and television series spin-offs. If child-protagonist Jeff played hooky and got himself entombed in the old deserted mine just outside town in the first season of “Lassie” and waited to be saved by his cat, he would surely learn his lesson the hard way. But make no mistake, “Jinxy,” “Crookshanks,” “Tonto,” “Buttercup,” internet sensation “Lil Bub,” “General Price,” and all those other irresistible movie cats could summon help—if they wanted to. These beautiful feline creatures are obviously intelligent…brilliant as hell, actually. So brilliant, that Jack Byrnes (Robert De Niro) in Meet the Parents explains, “A dog is very easy to break. But cats make you work for their affection. They don’t sell out the way dogs do.” And work for their affection, we do. No tricks…no problem, because we all know every cat is all treat. Leonardo da Vinci said it best, “The smallest feline is a masterpiece.”

Hello, Gorgeous.

“…and Yet We Hear a Band.”

“Mulholland Drive” started as a 1999 television pilot that was rejected by ABC. Since its release in 2001 as the expanded film, Mulholland Drive has claimed the number one spot on “Best of the Decade” polls from Film Comment, The LA Film Critics, and indieWIRE. More recently, it was voted the best film of the 21st century in a BBC poll of 177 film critics from 36 countries around the world.

As we should have suspected when we saw Lynch’s “demented matinee,” Blue Velvet, Lynch is our most evocative Hollywood filmmaker. As the movies around Lynch have become bigger-business comic-book strips and redundant brainless marathons, it is also evident today that he is our most resonant motion picture storyteller. David Lynch is a Cinematic Visionary.

The surreal, richly colored dreamscape of Mulholland Drive is the fascinating terrain that Lynch first managed to stake out in his black-and-white Eraserhead. Lynch now inhabits his movie landscape alone. Lynch’s world is a monumental aesthetic creation. In his re-imagining of decades of movies, fashion, music, luxury cars, design, and interior décor, Lynch re-invents the Glory Days of Hollywood Glamor. It is Hollywood backlot as geography and the sound stage as history. With examination, each of his films becomes understood among his expressionist collection. Of course, looking a second time into Lynch’s movie credits to determine how each movie fits is compelling. As with everything about Lynch’s movies, including making narrative sense out of his visual stories, Mulholland Drive deserves—in fact, demands—this second look because the plot becomes more understandable upon returning to engage with the movie again. 

But Lynch movies are not just plot…each story is an artistic universe.

The first look at any Lynch movie provides an intense and unique sense of moviemaking that gives ingress to the art of David Lynch. Like a first look at Henri Matisse’s Joy Of Life or Francis Bacon’s Jet Of Water…if you’ll let it, the first viewing of Mulholland Drive telegraphs why this movie is top of that Best Films of the 21st Century list: the visually engaging and stunning movie is cohesive on screen—so too the audio is developed and fully realized from that throbbing first jitterbug to the last word,  “Silencio.” Since it is not a Hollywood genre film, we do not know where Mulholland Drive will lead. Nonetheless, we do know from that first dance that the film is moving, about three-quarters of the story with choreographed threads in sequence, and then…and then it is moving as it must. Hot as hell from the purple dancing tinged with phantom images that ignites it on the screen, Mulholland Drive commands our attention and our involvement.

When a great looking brunette takes a limousine ride to start the story—into the past and out of the present…onto the screen and out of the audience—a car wreck comes out of nowhere—but you know it is coming…because this is pure Hollywood. Landlady Ann Miller—another glamorous Hollywood ruin—tells us the whole story when she speaks her first line. Theroux punches Billy Ray Cyrus—composer Badalamenti spits up his espresso—the janitor gets shot through a wall—a street person jumps out of a crate—the singer faints doing Roy Orbison…in Spanish—a cowboy…a cowboy?—hilarious as well as grotesque because it all personifies Hitchcock’s “to scare in daylight.” The movie morphs the glorious dream with the dirty underbelly of Hollywood. In and out of dream—from desire to audition—who the actress plays is not who she is or even who she wants to be…the brunette is sometimes blonde...girl on girl…who is that girl?...this is THE girl…and every time Watts is in her bathrobe, the movie goes all nightmare. Two worlds collide. Naomi Watts gives an outrageous performance as the post-modern Lana Turner: she “acts” in love but never messes her make-up; her character melts down but the actress never does; because Mulholland Drive is all about Movies—the Reality of the movies—meta-moviemaking: in Mulholland Drive, the Dream Factory sideswipes the Hollywood Dream. Ambition is Casting is Exploitation is Delusion is Death. Art compels—not invites—engagement. Once we see the key open that blue box, we know, as Shakespeare’s Horatio must learn, that “the rest is silence.”

I saw Mulholland Drive on its date- of-release fifteen years ago before I would have to hear about it.  Now as-many-screenings-as-years later, I know a lot more about Mulholland Drive. But do I understand Lynch’s film any better than I did that first screening when it woke me up and knocked me out?

What Cedric & Hans Fashioned

Name recognition in the movies is awarded to actors who are far too celebrated by a 24/7 cottage industry that preys on the audience’s fascination with celebrity…the Star System, created in the Silent Era, is now on steroids. Name recognition spills over to directors since the advent of film schools and celebrity directors in the 1960s and the saturation of movie websites. But other contributors to the movies remain nameless—well-paid, but not easily identified in a line-up. Part of this anonymity is the result of confusion in distinguishing among the artists, technicians, and craftspeople involved with interlocking jobs during a movie’s production. Additionally, technological advances are redefining responsibilities as well as creating new roles to accommodate technical and aesthetic evolution. 

Movie-making responsibilities split into theoretical and practical duties: “I have the plan; you make it real.”  Before 1939 the person responsible for the physical look of the film was called the “Art Director” or “AD” (The term "Production Designer” or “PD” was coined by William Cameron Menzies when working on Gone With the Wind. Confusingly, both terms are in use today. Looking back pre-1939, let’s stick with AD.) The AD is responsible for the physical overall look of a film and works directly with the Producer and Director to select the settings and style that visually tell the story. If any ADs deserve to be household names, they are Hans Dreier and Cedric Gibbons.

Born in Bremen, Hans Dreier began his career in German film in 1919 (think Expressionistic Cabinet of Dr. Caligari). Dreier relocated to Hollywood and served as Supervising AD at Paramount from 1923 to 1950. He contributed to nearly 500 films and was nominated for 20 Academy Awards for his Art Direction. As Paramount’s Supervising AD, Dreier allowed individual creativity on Paramount shoots but took personal charge of Ernst Lubitch’s and Josef von Sternberg’s productions. Dreier’s characteristic use of shadow and chiaroscuro led him to close collaboration and his most exciting work with Billy Wilder on both film-noir Double Idemnity and Sunset Blvd. He scored two Best Art Direction Oscars in 1950, (Color) Samson and Delilah and (Black and White) for Sunset Blvd. Dreier’s flamboyant decadence in the Sunset Blvd house that he created for Norma Desmond is classic set design: Reality and the Movies decay and are embalmed on screen. Exteriors of the house were filmed at the Jenkins mansion on Wilshire Boulevard, abandoned for more than a decade. The pool was built there for the movie shoot. Decadent interiors include an avalanche of velvets, fringes, gilded frames, and a massive pipe organ.

 Set: Norma Desmond’s Bedroom, Sunset Blvd. Hans Dreier

 Set: Norma Desmond’s Bedroom, Sunset Blvd. Hans Dreier

Already overloaded with silent-film star Gloria Swanson’s framed personal images, Dreier also “raided” the studio’s enormous prop collection, most famously, for Norma’s swan-shaped bed. Owned by dancer Gaby Deslys, when she died in 1920, the bed was bought by the Universal prop department at auction and appears prominently in The Phantom of the Opera (1925). AD Hans Dreier created a garish dreamscape of flamboyant luxury and style gone-to-seed: 10086 Sunset Boulevard is the Hollywood address after the Dream-turned-Nightmare has festered into Hallucination…Dr. Caligari’s asylum—with a swimming pool. 

Film pioneer, Cedric Gibbons spent his earliest career as an assistant at Thomas Edison’s Studio. In 1924 Gibbons became MGM’s founding, supervising AD. He insisted on the use of three-dimensional scenery rather than painted backdrops. In 1928 his film Our Dancing Daughters popularized the Art Deco style in the US. In 1930 Gibbons married actress Dolores Del Rio (The couple divorced in 1941.). Every film coming out of MGM listed Gibbons as AD. Cedric Gibbons was a tyrant who felt strongly about what was right and wrong for MGM. Thus all MGM films shared a distinctive "look" because anyone responsible in any way for the visual appearance of an MGM film—from props to costumes to special effects—had to have Gibbons’ approval. Gibbons movies from Grand Hotel to The Wizard of Oz and An American in Paris still influence movie set design. Nominated for 37 Academy Awards in his career, Cedric Gibbons won 11 competitive Oscars. Because he was an artist and architect, Gibbons preferred a sculptural look. Therefore, his influence was felt beyond Hollywood set design. His influence on American architecture, interior decorating, and design during his studio tenure is also gargantuan. 

 Residence, Santa Monica Mountains, Cedric Gibbon & Douglas Honnol

 Residence, Santa Monica Mountains, Cedric Gibbon & Douglas Honnol

Believing that Paris masterpiece Maison de Verre was the Moderne Gold Standard, Gibbons designed a Hollywood home for himself and Del Rio that was their—and is my—dream house…with a swimming pool.

Ah yes—and indeed, the original Oscar statuette was also wrought from a design attributed to AD Cedric Gibbons.

Almost “Nobody’s Perfect”

                                    1. Marilyn Monroe with body double, Ge…

                                    1. Marilyn Monroe with body double, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. 
                                    2. Marilyn Monroe and Billy Wilder, Seven Year Itch.
                                   
3. Marilyn Monroe with Paula Strasberg, Some Like It Hot.

It is dangerous to call a film director “your favorite” and foolish to name any “best.”

Nonetheless, Billy Wilder is the prime candidate for me when I make either sweeping generalization. Problematic with Wilder, he attained 18 screen-writing credits (plus uncredited writing), directed 27 movies, and/or produced 14 total. Among this formidable tally, there are a disproportionate number of Screen Classics including Wilder’s Sabrina, Double Indemnity, Sunset Blvd, and Some Like It Hot …that are all also on my list of All-Time Favorite Movies. 

Never one to mince words about his failures and/or regrets, Wilder labeled The Seven Year Itch—his first teaming with Marilyn Monroe—a dud and the production, a disaster. Wilder not only owned up to his displeasure with their legendary rough shoot, but also labeled their movie "a nothing picture…It just didn't come off one bit, and there's nothing I can say about it except I wish I hadn't made it.” Of course, when he made those remarks, Wilder was fully aware The Seven-Year Itch had already been acknowledged a Comedy Classic. 

Billy Wilder’s frustration with Marilyn Monroe’s lateness, more than 50 takes for single lines, and ever-present acting coach, Paula Strasberg, on the set of Some Like It Hot is well documented. The shoot was over-budget and the collaboration was cantankerous and spurred Wilder’s hilarious appraisal of ever working with Monroe again: “I have discussed this with my doctor and my psychiatrist and my accountant, and they tell me I am too old and too rich to go through this again." Of course the result of their second collaboration is the movie comedy Gold Standard. 

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen Some Like It Hot, but I remember the first time was on its release date in Chicago. I met my cousin at the United Artists Theater in the Loop—we saw it once—then stayed to see it a second time. Current thinking minimizes sophistication before today: the audience understood the movie well enough, but we laughed so much and so loudly that we missed many of the lines during the first screening. 

Today the movie is still funny, but now I admire Some Like It Hot more than I laugh at it—because it is simply a magnificent piece of screen work. Always on lists of Best Hollywood Movies, it usually ranks first on any list of Best Hollywood Comedies.

A loose remake of an obscure 1951 German remake of a 1935 French film, everything is right with Some Like It Hot from the get-go. The first of any list of attributes obviously must be Billy Wilder’s genius. He set his movie in the 1920s and uncharacteristically opens it with the violence of St. Valentine’s Day Massacre because he knew he had to make drag a matter of life-and-death for his cross-dressers to be funny. His screenplay mixes sight gags, one-liners, double entendres, and Hollywood references with perceptive character development. The perfect last line of the film— “Nobody’s Perfect.” —hits comedy pay dirt every time. Wilder’s casting was also on the mark. Tony Curtis provides his best movie performance as well as an amusing impersonation of Cary Grant; Jack Lemon, one of the most gifted screen comedians in history, arguably gives his best comedic performance…and you know where this is heading: Marilyn Monroe. The quintessential Movie Goddess. That body. That face. That voice. That Talent. 

When Jane Russell gives flawless support to Monroe as Lorelei Lee, we watch Monroe; when Monroe gives a supporting performance of stars Lauren Bacall and Betty Grable, we watch Monroe. We watch Monroe in her scenes with Gable, The King of the Movies, and we watch Monroe while Ethel Merman belts Irving Berlin’s show business anthem somewhere in the same frame. Leading Man Lord Olivier’s Shakespearean theatrics in full throttle or Yves Montand’s Gallic joie-de-vivre on cruise control—we watch Monroe. 

In Monroe movies, we are spellbound by her sex appeal, touched by her vulnerability, and awed by her humor, and every Marilyn Monroe scene is galvanized by her star power. So if ever able to work with the uniquely luminous Monroe again, Billy Wilder re-assessed that whatever the stress, he could indeed never be too old, too rich, or too smart not to welcome that opportunity; he concluded, “She was an absolute genius as a comedic actress, with an extraordinary sense for comedic dialogue. It was a God-given gift. Believe me, in the last fifteen years there were ten projects that came to me, and I'd start working on them and I'd think, ‘It’s not going to work, it needs Marilyn Monroe.’ There were actresses and there was Marilyn Monroe. Nobody else is in that orbit; everyone else is earthbound by comparison.”

 

Sea Shanties & Dirges

“I have written a wicked book, and feel spotless as the lamb.”
Herman Melville
Letter to Nathaniel Hawthorne

I’ve liked sea stories since I saw Disney’s classic 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea.

Sea legends have been much retold, studied, and sung about. The 18th Century mutiny aboard the HMS Bounty has been the source for stage (including a musical), television, and screen adaptations, with three Hollywood versions.  Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) was the first to appear on screen, starring Clark Gable; a second adaptation (1962) starred Brando; and a third adaptation (1984), titled Bounty, credits its screenplay to Robert Bolt.

The most infamous sea story of the 20th century, the sinking of the RMS Titanic, is a sea disaster that has been many times a stage (including a musical), television, and film subject. The 1997 mega-epic Hollywood version won the Best Picture Oscar and has profits of nearly $2.2 billion.

An albino sperm whale attacking the US whaling ship Essex in 1820 is the sea legend most woven into contemporary life.  This historical shipwreck was the source of Herman Melville’s monumental novel, Moby Dick. First Runner-Up for the “Great American Novel,” Moby Dick is a customary classroom assignment. Electronic singer/songwriter Moby (Richard Melville Hall) confesses that even he never finished his great, great, great, great, uncle Herman Melville’s magnum opus while the Pequod’s First Mate, Starbuck, has spawned an apocryphal corporate legend.

I first read Moby Dick in high school. But my memory of the experience now is that I saw the John Huston 1956 movie, adapted by screenwriter Ray Bradbury, before I read Melville’s classic sea story.

I remember seeing the movie in a very ornate movie palace on the Boardwalk in Atlantic City, NJ. The movie scene clearest in my memory follows Captain Ahab (Gregory Peck—looking like Abe Lincoln with a peg leg) in his tiny boat on the open sea in relentless pursuit of the albino whale. Frantically fighting but never retreating, Ahab furiously hacks at his nemesis as the goliath takes Ahab thrashing down into the deep and to perdition. They rise again in a last thrust as, even after death, Ahab lashed to the white whale beckons us to follow them on his quest to hell.

Melville's majestic prose, Bradbury's adventure-infused screenplay (according to legend, written in an eight-hour frenzy), Huston's hyperbolic direction, Philip Sainton's operatic musical score, and childhood movie memory collide when I look back to that horrific movie scene. I didn’t actually see this climactic scene so much as I extrapolated it from what I heard, shutting my eyes to avoid watching the irresistible, morbid catastrophe on the screen, then looking back and forth from screen to the elaborate gilding of the proscenium arch in the dark. Closing my eyes not to look, yet not being able to look away, struggling to avoid the unspeakable misery, I can understand. What I don’t understand is my seeing Moby Dick in Atlantic City because I grew up in Chicago. Isn’t it funny how certain true or untrue shards of memory remain sharp long after they have any verifiable historical context?

Lost among today’s slate of infinite comic book violence and buddy movies male and female, I’m a fan of Ron Howard’s epic In the Heart of the Sea (2015).

This recent film is based on the non-fiction book of the same name detailing Melville’s writing Moby Dick. I think it is an important movie more than I deem it a good movie because the Herculean feat of Herman Melville creating his monumental masterpiece holds import. The movie was no blockbuster: at a cost of approximately $100 million it lost money with worldwide box office less than $94 million. There was a Studio-System time when Hollywood allowed a quality movie, resigned it would not be a financial bonanza, among its schedule.

Decrying Hollywood budgeting today is not the purpose of this blog. The indifferent world of the sea and the enormous complications of Melville’s sea story are also neither this blog’s nor Howard’s movie’s subjects. Facing Evil—and finding God—is the novel’s quest while cataloging the Whiteness of the Whale as symbols in the novel is a literary parlor game. But again, none of these is the topic of Howard’s movie or this blog. 

Indeed, both Howard’s movie and this blog’s lofty topic is the human process to create Art. Evil drives Melville’s groundbreaking novel and evil abounds in In the Heart of the Sea. However, this movie is a testament to Truth, the beauty of Art. It illuminates Melville’s re-imagining a 19th Century historical disaster into his timeless literary creation.  The movie opens our eyes to Herman Melville’s genius, that is, the movie reverences the potential of human endeavor, the universality of the human experience, and the triumph of the human spirit.

On the other hand, the white whale is not voiced by Ellen DeGeneres, so who cares?

Another Man’s Poison

I appreciate Star System casting but wouldn’t Streisand’s Rose in a Gypsy remake have been on Social Security when potty training her daughters?

Annie Awards annually honor Outstanding Achievement, Character Animation in Live Action Productions. Nominees in this category last year included the bear in The Revenant. I rooted for the bear to win...twice.

Controversy surfaced after director George Cosmatos’s death when Tombstone star Kurt Russell claimed in an interview that he had ghost-directed that movie on Cosmatos’s behalf.

Fleming's James Bond invented the Vesper Martini in Chapter 7 and named it in Chapter 8 in Casino Royale. The drink’s recipe was actually created by Fleming's friend, Ivar Bryce.

The pool of the Nile Hilton in Cairo has mesh metal chairs hanging along its deepest edge so you can sit at ease submerged in the water reading your book.

At the Confederate Ball in Gone with the Wind, Rhett Butler pays to dance with Scarlett in her really wrong-hue ball gown—Widow’s Weeds Black.

Full-figured animals can also go on movie-jungle rampages. Elephant Walk’s Peter Finch realizes father Colonel Tom was a closeted Imperialist; Dana Andrews realizes he needs to find his own wife; Elizabeth Taylor realizes she can conquer the fiery staircase; and Appuhamy realizes not to talk to the Elephant People.

Audiences confused Tab Hunter and Troy Donohue. This confusion proved unfortunate for Donohue’s career.

“You Must Love Me,” the Oscar Best Song written for the movie Evita (1996), echoes Carmen Miranda’s “T’ai” with its “sympathetic begging” and simple, yet compelling, vocal styling.

At the Labor Day picnic, Rodney and Betty go skinny-dipping while good-girl Allison and Rodney’s little bother, Norman, go swimming in proper swimsuits. Town-gossip Marion is all too happy to tell Constance MacKenzie (Lana Turner—so you know what’s coming) that it was Connie’s daughter, Allison, whom she saw together naked with Norman.

Jeremy Iron’s characterization of the Mantle twins addresses family gatherings where the new baby looks exactly like Uncle Joe at that age except she has dark hair and he was bald, she has blue eyes and his were brown, he was fragile and she is plump, and she is a girl. Yet the whole family somehow sees the similarity. Go figure.

Neighbor Noel Coward called Ian Fleming’s Jamaica house, “Golden Eye, Ears, Nose and Throat.”

A busy run for William Holden from 1950 to 1955—I think I counted about 18 film credits and I know it is hard to choose the matinee idol’s best performance on the list. Between bedding Norma Desmond in 1950 and that Picnic dance with Kim Novak in 1955, in the same year Holden romances and ironically loses both Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina (only on screen) and Grace Kelly in Country Girl (he wins Kelly on screen during those same years in Bridges at Toko-Ri). Holden also challenged the censors in The Moon Is Blue, brought Broadway’s Born Yesterday to the screen, oh yes, and won the Best Actor Oscar for Billy Wilder’s Stalag 17. Playing younger or older—whatever his role—William Holden proved to be the hottest Hollywood Golden Age leading man.

Documentary Jane Birkin: Mother of All Babes runs 52 minutes.

Jackie Kennedy Onassis was a global enigma.  Who is the mystery man Billy Crudup plays in the 2017 release Jackie about the 4 days after the JFK assassination—filming on location in DC, mostly in Paris?

It must be The Big Easy. Ingénue Judy Garland’s bold red ball gown is deemed seasonal and appropriate enough for dancing with your grandfather at Meet Me in St Louis's Christmas Ball; no one shamed her to Lazarus Island.

Somehow younger sister Joan Fontaine seems the Hollywood movie star, but big sister Olivia de Havilland was the one who scored two Oscars and was stalked before Stalking even had a name.

Ortolans! Reading about the gastronomic last meal of French President François Mitterrand made me queasy about the tiny birds twice over again.

My first movie was The Girls of Pleasure Island because I remember playing hooky from dance class to see it.

Diane Varsi was the young actress who earned an Oscar nomination for her Peyton Place debut with Lana Turner, then turned her back on Hollywood; Dolores Hart, another young star, (who made her debut with Elvis Presley) was the ingénue who abandoned Hollywood to become the nun.

“The Bitch Is Dead Now”

Ian Fleming working at Goldeneye, his home in Jamaica.

Ian Fleming working at Goldeneye, his home in Jamaica.

Ian Fleming wrote his first James Bond adventure, Casino Royale, in 1953 at Goldeneye, his home in Jamaica. In the years following, Fleming wrote 12 Bond novels and 2 collections of Bond short stories there.

Fleming’s first book (that many critics consider his best), Casino Royale, introduced a knock-out cocktail, the Vesper Martini, a sensational last line, “The bitch is dead now,” and a torture scene featuring Fleming’s Bond tied naked to a cane chair with its seat cut out so that his testicles could be abused with a carpet-beater. As the substitute for this graphic scene, the tuxedo-clad, barefoot Bond (Barry Nelson) was secured in a bathtub and his toenails attacked with pliers in the novel’s first adaptation: a 1954 television show.

Gregory Ratoff bought the movie rights to Fleming’s first novel the same year as that TV adaptation. However, attempts to make the Casino Royale movie remained frustrated when Ratoff died in 1960. Charles K. Feldman bought the screen rights from Ratoff’s estate and hired Ben Hecht to adapt Casino Royale. Rarified choice. Hecht is the foremost Golden Age screenwriter and won the first Best Screenplay Oscar in 1927 for the sacrosanct Howard Hughes production of Howard Hawks’s Scarface.

Ian Fleming’s prospects exploded during the 1960s, particularly in the States. In 1961 Fleming published his ninth Bond novel while that same year, his fifth Bond novel was acknowledged as one of JFK’s favorites. The Bond books would obviously make sensational movies. So Albert "Cubby" Broccoli, a former Feldman employee, bought the movie rights to Fleming’s Bond novels—except of course, the rights for Casino Royale—and Fleming’s sixth Bond novel appeared on screen in 1962, Dr. No, the first Broccoli Bond-franchise film. Broccoli produced his second Bond film the following year, and, like the first, this Bond film scored at the box office.

In 1964, Hecht wrote Feldman about progress of their "current script" of Fleming’s Casino Royale and then died of a heart attack. With Hecht dead, Feldman approached Broccoli hoping to broker a deal to film Casino Royale in partnership, but overplayed his hand. He demanded too big a share of profits and threatened a lawsuit, claiming Broccoli’s third and current Bond film adaptation plagiarized Casino Royale. Feldman even approached Sean Connery to see if the actor was willing to jump Broccoli’s franchise ship to play Bond in his Casino Royale. Connery said yes—for a million dollars (serious money in 1964)—and Feldman rescinded the offer.

This first film adaptation of Casino Royale (1967) is not among historic Bond-franchise titles and did not star Connery. Ben Hecht did in fact adapt Casino Royale as a straight action movie for Feldman. However, only an exaggerated variation on Hecht’s idea—multiple Bonds as a code-name used by different agents—turned up in Feldman’s maverick 1967 comedy adaptation.

When released, Feldman’s Casino Royale featured more than a half-dozen James Bonds, including suave David Niven; a celebrity cast including Orson Welles; and a “Bondwagon” of beautiful girls. After Ben Hecht, Billy Wilder took an uncredited shot at the script as did Woody Allen, Val Guest, Joseph Heller, Peter Sellers, and Terry Southern, along with the three credited screenwriters. The film credits no fewer than five directors, including John Huston. Bacharach’s soundtrack introduced “The Look of Love” that lost the Best Song Oscar (but has since been installed in the Grammy Hall of Fame).

The film comedy was an incoherent hodgepodge. Rather than being linked with either Fleming’s first Bond novel or the Brocolli Bond-franchise films, Casino Royale immediately became synonymous with classic Hollywood Snafu.  

 “Cubby” Broccoli’s heirs continue as producers of the Bond films…in 2004 daughter Barbara Broccoli produced Casino Royale brilliantly on the screen. The new Casino Royale regenerated the Bond franchise and introduced Daniel Craig as James Bond. In the last 54 years, 26 James Bond films have starred Sean Connery, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, George Lazenby, Pierce Brosnon, and Daniel Craig, bringing the Broccoli Bonds to six.  Yet speculation includes another half dozen actors—including Henry Cavill, Idris Elba, Michael Fassbinder, Tom Hardy, Tom Hiddleston, and Damian Lewis—next to play Bond in the franchise.

With movie proximities of both Fleming’s last line and his original torture scene, Bond-franchise warp speed editing, an Aston Martin DBS V12, Eve Green, location shots in Venice, and especially Craig as James Bond, Ian Fleming’s first novel, Casino Royale, is indeed now a bona-fide Bond-franchise Classic.

So just one Casino Royale question lingers, and I’ve taken it upon myself to research it (somebody had to step up): How does Bond’s knock-out Vesper Martini fare today?

“Not East of Suez—but South of Algiers.”

I’ve got a soft spot for dual roles in the movies as early as Rudolf Valentino’s dual casting in the sequel to his career-defining performance as The Sheik. The matinee idol is credited in George Fitz Maurice’s The Son of the Sheik (1925) as both “Ahmed” and his now middle-aged father, “The Sheik.” The early use of split screen permits the flamboyant confrontation of the two Valentinos: Father Valentino bends an iron pipe and throws it to the ground to show his dominance; standing beside him, son Valentino stares him down, retrieves the pipe, and bends it back straight again to show his defiance. Figuring the mechanics of an actor in dual roles is fun. But I didn’t have any fun figuring the twins in Dead Ringers.

I don’t mean figuring the twins in Dead Ringer (1964)…figuring the twins in that movie is all sorts of fun right out of the gate. Estranged for many years, twin sisters Edith Philips (Bette Davis) and Margaret de Lorca (Bette Davis) are reunited at the funeral of Margaret’s husband Frank, the man they both loved. When Edith finds out Margaret lied about being pregnant back in the day, the vicious split screen fun begins…what I meant is that I didn’t have any fun figuring the twins in Dead Ringers (1988), starring Jeremy Irons.

Irons became a star playing Charles Ryder in all 11 episodes of the monumental BBC adaptation of Brideshead Revisited (1981 UK & 1982 USA) in tandem with scoring his first major feature movie credit as “Charles Henry Smithson” and “Mike,” dual leading roles, in Harold Pinter’s esoteric adaptation of John Fowles The French Lieutenant’s Woman (1982). Since this incendiary double launch thirty-five years ago, Irons has played just about everyone from author F. Scott Fitzgerald to literary character Humbert Humbert and done everything from the English-language voice-over narration of his performance in phonetic Polish for Jerzy Skolimowski’s political drama, Moonlighting, to voicing villain “Scar” in a Shakespearean feline take on Hamlet’s murderous Uncle Claudius for the Disney animation, The Lion King.

Irons was not the first actor offered the roles of Elliot and Beverly Mantle (Irons remembers two actors asked before him—an interviewer at a recent Cronenberg retrospective claims 30 actors said no.)  Symbiotic twin gynecologists who go mad and commit murder/suicide are already discomforting characters. The Mantle twins also design and brandish Kenyanthropus platyops era Gynecological tools—including the “Mantle Retractor”—for surgery on their “mutant” patients.

Dead Ringers was shot in the late 1980s in the infancy of CGI (Computer-Generated Imagery), so it was a technological pioneer. Cronenberg had the capability to record his tracking shots on the computer. The director replicated the exact camera movement used to shoot Irons walking and talking when he later shot the “other” Irons walking with and answering him.  More impressive than Cronenberg’s “twinning shots” technology is their artistic discretion. There are only 8 “twining shots” in the film because Cronenberg wisely determined that superfluous “two shots” of the twins would merely be camera tricks at the expense of Irons’s characterizations and Cronenberg’s story. No fun trying to figure out the split screen legerdemain because Cronenberg avoided reliance on camera tricks to shoot his twins. How?

The two performances by Irons are so good, you forget one actor is playing both unsavory characters. Cronenberg and his crew agreed that the creation of two Mantle brothers was rooted in Irons’s acting. Irons already had two characterizations for the brothers precisely drawn by the pre-production tests. However, the actor merged the separate wardrobes he had purchased for each twin as well as combined the separate dressing rooms he had negotiated when playing each one after he saw the rushes. Once Irons saw his performances on screen, he realized he had to re-imagine his creation of two completely different characters because twin brothers, albeit different, would demonstrate overlapping similarities. So Irons made both his characterizations different but subtly akin. In the movie, when one Mantle twin poses as the other, (this is the classic dual-role acting scene) you are following the plot—not cataloging the nuances of Irons acting an impersonation of an imitation.  A master of continuity, Irons joked that while he never knows what he should do as the actor in a take, he always knows exactly what every other actor should be doing—so playing two roles in Dead Ringers gave him an acting advantage.

Jeremy Irons’s Dead Ringers performances should have won him two Oscars. Now if Irons would just bring Philadelphia’s Emlen Etting to the screen…let’s see, Elliot and Beverly Mantle…Charles Henry Smithson and Mike…perhaps Etting could have an alter ego, his identical cousin, “…who’s lived most everywhere, from Zanzibar to Barclay [sic] Square…”

Here Comes Fall

Before Victorian times, the picnic (“pique”- “nique”/French) was an elaborate entertainment of the wealthy. Picnics probably began as early as the seventeenth century, when hunting became an interest of the leisure class and the hunt was followed by a huge communal meal served alfresco to the hunting party. 

Citizen Kane leads a cavalcade of motorcars along the sweeping Florida beach to his Everglades picnic in a classic RKO matte shot sequence. In their tent at the picnic, Kane slaps his wife’s face—and isn’t sorry about it. The audience sees this confrontation but the picnic guests do not and the beach picnic continues uninterrupted off-screen. Obviously, in the movies secrets gain traction when revealed—even better, when exposed—on-screen to trigger social reaction and interaction among the characters.

Victorian picnics crossed class boundaries and picnics of the middle class became increasingly unpretentious. Thus cold fried chicken, beer, and secrets exposed in the great outdoors became hallmarks of Hollywood picnic fare. In 1955 our paradoxical national holiday to honor work while bidding melancholy farewell to summer vacation—Labor Day—proved to be the movie picnic’s bittersweet lightning rod. 

In America’s most sexually frustrated small town—because let’s face it Toto, we are in movie Kansas—local beauty queen Madge (Kim Novak) is drawn to handsome drifter Hal (William Holden) at the annual Labor Day Picnic. When the longings of Hal and Madge are made public, they trigger an avalanche of the frustrations of everybody else in town around them. Holiday rituals set dreams and Hal on a collision course. Hal has one hell of a Labor Day…the old lady next door lusts for him doing his yard work for pay; the old-maid school teacher demands Hal be her Roman centurion and rips his shirt open; the underage “egg-head sister” gets herself drunk to capture Hal’s attention; like Flo, the thin-lipped mother, did before them, Madge entertains big-city thoughts about sex: think sex, think Hal…and smoldering Madge and Hal dance in what is probably the screen’s most famous choreography other side of Astaire and Rogers. Holden drank heavily to loosen himself up to perform this dance and 37-years-old when cast as Hal, he shaved his chest to appear younger. Evidently, it was worth the manscaping.

That dance. The 30s pop song “Moonglow” blends with the Picnic title song in the screen’s most famous musical remix. Novak comes down those stairs, “setting the rhythm.” Everybody else in town in those shots is as suddenly outside those shots—the world is only Madge and Hal. The two stars dance so suggestively, going everywhere yet barely moving, that they blow the plot clear out of the lantern-bordered fresh water lake. 

The play won the Pulitzer. Inge’s Broadway ending was an exchange between Madge’s mother and the old neighbor about people eventually having to grow up (and inevitably grow old). Small town wisdom. Ending the screenplay differently provoked disagreement on set about a darker or Hollywood “happy ending.”  And Picnic—the movie—comes up with a technical sequence that blows the 1955 movie out of the water—again…and once and for all. 

As in the play, Hal jumps a freight train out of town while Madge abandons her family and takes off to follow him on a bus the following day. Director of Photography James Wong Howe’s assistant, Haskell Wexler, shot the film’s closing camera sequence himself. Wexler’s ending has mistakenly sometimes been labeled the first helicopter shot in the movies. But there can be no mistake that Wexler’s shot from the helicopter makes a brilliant movie ending. 

From Hal’s arrival, Picnic is all about the urge to escape from the numbing, empty future.  When Madge and Hal get out of town, they become part of the1950s On-The-Road American landscape. Will they be happy?  Let’s see…an irresponsible middle-aged bum and a dim-witted, naïve shop-girl in Tulsa, Oklahoma: not likely.  But when Wexler’s long shots expand the movie beyond their stifling small-town reality in Kansas, his overwhelming cinematography elevates the 1950s stage play plot into an American-movie allegory. The movie pulsates again: there is a future. Wexler’s expansive vista shots of the bus racing to catch that speeding train out into the American frontier boldly escape the stagnation of the small town. Consequently, Wexler’s ending invites the audience to entertain this escape as a possibility for Madge and Hal, as well. If Madge and Hal managed to escape once for a dance together, maybe…just maybe…they can do it…escape again…for a life together. 

There Goes Summer

Unfortunately, the beach—theoretical perfection—is unlikely to attain the conditions necessary to nurture that situation in reality. On the other hand: Pools deliver. 

I grew up lost in the blue sky above the Edgewood Valley Country Club pool in Willow Springs, Illinois…by no means “Down The Shore” Country. Initiated at an early age by seasoned swimmers at the Club pool, I respected the faint teeth marks still visible “if you look hard enough” in the re-painted concrete rim of the pool alongside the diving board. The marks were testament never to dive into the pool after lifeguard hours. I harbored that unlikely fear until I substituted another unwarranted nocturnal swimming scenario. 

Lots of lazy pool days since that daily routine at Edgewood Valley. 

Taylor and Burton…Art Deco…La Serenissima…Baron Samedi...The Comedians....Leon’s Inspector Brunetti...Capra’s Hole in the Head…James Bond and, of course, the Million Dollar Mermaid…below are My Top Three Pools of the World.

III.  Grand Hotel Oloffson, Port au Prince, Haiti

Is the Oloffson still there? 

There were voodoo drums into the night. Miraculously, the delicate gingerbread building again withstood the nocturnal assault of the jungle. I swim in the pool—no other swimmers yet awake—as under a poolside umbrella my wife waits for the delivery of the pink painting we bought yesterday in a gallery just outside the hotel gates and down the hill in the cool of twilight. She reads near the pool, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the morning sun—already too intense. At the top of the broken staircase I see the Tontons Macoutes…early today…the pair descend the steps–mirrored sun glasses, shotguns drawn. The tag team surveys the pool. My wife looks up at them; I continue swimming. They smile at her, turn, and mount the staircase in tandem to disappear. 

Was the Oloffson ever there?

II.  Hotel Ciprinai, Venice, Italy

The Hotel Cipriani sits in San Marco’s secret garden on Giudecca across the Basino from the Piazzetta in Venice. Off-the-cuff, absolute luxury. I swim to the center of the massive pool and stand arms akimbo. Just a hotel motor-boat ride away from the Cipriani pool, Venice flashes dramatic beauty, while the Cipriani quietly responds with serene beauty of its own, a world away (4 minutes by continuous hotel launch). From the oversized pool, I catalog the Vilbrequins and count the waiters serving Bellinis. I take in the singing birds, goldfinch, rock doves and gulls. I admire the green lawn, potted white flowering trees, white tents, white umbrellas, and white lounge chairs and signal one of the pool boys in white for a fresh white towel. Noon. Bells chime from all the church towers of Venice to blend with the distant sounds of a vaporetto purring then breaking the spell, suddenly clanging, on the Giudecca Canal. I stand in the bold sun in soothing salt water up to my shoulders under the bluest sky in a garden in the world’s most beautiful city.

I.  Raleigh Hotel, Miami Beach, Florida

Since the Raleigh is among the jewels in the crown of Art Deco South Beach, this hotel pool is surely the Koh-i-Noor diamond. The King, Clark Gable, swam here. And Esther Williams. A crenate shallow borders the cool water all around shimmering turquoise. I move from the lounge to this shallow rim of the pool gradually, it takes all afternoon, and finally exert myself to launch the gigantic inner tube.  I board the black 16-wheeler tube that somehow matches the delicate scalloped black trim of the pool and head off for the deep. Falling into the water and eventually swimming to find and half-heartedly remount the inner-tube becomes my only occupation. Suddenly—magically—the pool is deserted—I am alone at twilight—and I am afloat. Dimming blue sky fading above and too many Mojitos to give a damn.

RSVP

The glorious staging of a large formal gathering for social dancing, the Ball, is the top of all movie parties. The movie Ball contrasts the elegant dressing and acting within the Ball’s rigid social code with life on the ordinary days that precede and follow the celebration. Dressing beyond formal attire in elaborate costumes, disguised behind masks, defines the Hollywood Costume Ball just as wearing tiaras and crowns in the palace distinguishes the Royal Ball.

The predominant cinematic setting for these enormous dance events on this side of the Atlantic is the American South—that society “gone with the wind.” At the greatest Confederate Ball on screen, Jezebel’s Olympus Ball, Southern Belle Julie/Jezebel (Bette Davis) recklessly flaunts her passion and her social impropriety wearing a red ball gown. William Wyler spent five days filming a series of camera moves for a scene only a few sentences in the script. Jezebel’s legendary Olympus Ball sequence was based on a real-life white ball in Hollywood at which all the women appeared in white—except Norma Shearer. The impact of this scene of Julie’s bold red dress among the virginal white costumes is quite a Dream Factory feat: Davis’s costume was bronze colored for the film shoot in black and white.

A classic Studio System Ball set “across the pond” convinces Olivier, Macfadyen, Firth, Rintoul, Seale, McGibney, Osborne, and Riley (with Zombies) among others, to run like hell from Elizabeth Bennet and her family in Pride and Prejudice. Also set in England, the Embassy Ball in Cukor’s My Fair Lady presents the world’s most elegant flower girl. This 1964 Oscar Best Picture Ball was outplayed by its casting. When Audrey Hepburn replaced Broadway’s Julie Andrews as My Fair Lady on screen, it branded peerless Hepburn the wrong actress in Eliza Doolittle’s very right Cecil Beaton ball gown. In casting the next year for 1965’s Oscar Best Picture, The Sound of Music, no one shed a tear for First Lady of the Theater, Mary Martin, being ridden out of the Salzburg Abbey more cruelly than Sister Luke is sent packing in The Nun’s Story’s in order to ensconce Julie Andrews on screen as Rogers and Hammerstein’s singing postulant. The Embassy Ball says a lot about the Hollywood community.

A Hollywood Masked Ball attracted the silent (sometimes Handshiegel Colouring Processed) appearance of the Phantom of the Opera as Poe’s Red Death at the 1925 Paris Opera Ball. The black-and-white Hollywood Manderley Masquerade Ball implodes on screen in 1940’s Oscar Best Picture, Rebecca. Joan Fontaine appears in a duplicate of her husband’s first wife’s ball costume. Based on a faux aristocratic 19th Century family portrait in the Manderley gallery painted for the movie by Mary Beavers, the ball gown in the portrait was actually based on a movie costume by Hollywood designer Irene Lentz. Tricked by leering Mrs. Danvers, shy Fontaine unintentionally wreaks social havoc by appearing overwhelmed in and by her deceased predecessor’s festooned masquerade costume.  At a Technicolor Masquerade, Grace Kelly is costumed in 18th Century gold lamé with attending blackamoor and parasol. Heiress Francie Stevens negotiates her shimmering ball gown and entourage as party costuming because she is costumed for more than dancing. Dancing all night, she forfeits social propriety in a calculated ruse to aid and abet a criminal, charming jewel thief, and the “cat,” John Robie, at the Masked Ball on Hitchcock’s French Riviera.

Think Royal Ball—think Cinderella. As in Disney’s classic 1950 animation and Sondheim’s 2014 musical, Branagh’s live-action Disney a year later sets Cinderella’s Ball in the big-budget fairy tale castle. Radiant newcomers Lily James and Richard Madden spin around the dance floor as everybody else watches them in jealousy and awe. The right woman navigates the right blue gown only slightly smaller than a Volkswagen Beetle. The Prince (a discreetly trussed stallion in immaculate white military uniform ) and Cinderella (in the world’s most over-the-top batteries-included ball gown) dance and are admired. Each finds grace in the presence of the other. And they fall in love. It is pure movie magic and pure movie fantasy.  

There is more going on than girls dancing with boys at these Balls, although that is definitely important.  As we follow the innuendo and flirtations among the lines of formally attired paired dancers, the Ball provides a way to learn about community, traditions, family prospects and expectations, as well as social impediments.  We see how people act and don’t act in public, so we can understand why they do so in private. The artificiality of the Ball attire clearly differentiates the reality of lives before and after it. And make no mistake; what happens at a Hollywood Ball definitely does not stay there! Stephen Sondheim illuminates the “real” protocol of the movie Ball, “To arrive at a ball/is exciting and all-/Once you're there, though, it's scary.”

Glamor, Samba, & Maria do Carmo

When I was a young kid, my mother wore this outrageous pair of purple platform sandals with ankle strap ties for poolwear. The shoes were decorated with colorful sequined exotic fruits.  Today, in our global fruit market, I would wager the sequined decorations were banana-maca, papayas, guava, and mangoes. My mother called them “Carmen Miranda” shoes because they resembled the colorful Bahian-look costumes Miranda created and wore in the movies. I have a friend into Vintage and I wish I had saved those Carmen Miranda shoes for her. Anyway, those flamboyant shoes were how I first heard about Brazil.

Rio de Janeiro is everywhere and there is no way around it: I have absolutely no interest in attending these Summer Olympics. But I am interested in Brazil. I’ve traveled to Chile and Argentina, but never to Brazil, so I figure to go for it here because—Modern City and Primitive Jungle—Brazil has movie Glamor.

Brazil has a movie industry. Oscar-winning Black Orpheus, The Given Word, Central Station, and To the Left of the Father still hold up. And recently, the hard-hitting Elite Squad and The City of God were also both strong international movie releases. But a pair of movies made in Hollywood that portray Brazil’s Glamor makes my list of Best of Brazil in Movies.

Second unit photography of Brazil gives Flying Down to Rio (1933) some authenticity. However, the spectacular title number that combines wide shots done in Malibu and process shots in a hangar with planes suspended by wires only a few feet off the ground as well as the film’s massive white Art Deco studio sets give this musical its Glamor. As glamorously, Fred Astaire (his second movie—Astaire already danced with Joan Crawford in his film debut) was paired first time on screen with Ginger Rogers and Astaire also worked here for the first time with Hermes Pan, the film’s assistant choreographer. Flying Down to Rio provides time travel to Brazil in its glory days—a glamorous destination that non-stop flight service today cannot provide.

Rio in stylized black and white is juxtaposed with the Technicolor Glamor of the Brazilian Jungle in 1954 Hollywood adventure film, The Naked Jungle. Egomaniac Christopher Leiningen is unforgiving when he learns that his bride by proxy, Joanna, just arrived down the Amazon, is a widow, “damaged goods.” Rejected and waiting for a return boat, Joanna can neither find common ground with Christopher nor leave the grounds. The couple also awaits battalions of flesh-eating red ants—Marabunta—to arrive and return the monumental plantation carved out by Leiningen back to the unforgiving Brazilian jungle. Will they survive the ants? Will they survive each other? Their mutual loathing, obvious sexual attraction, and forced proximity—not to mention the millions of carnivorous ants devouring everything and everyone en route—make for a strained tête–à–tête. Consequently, one of my favorite exchanges in movie dialogue occurs during their Brazilian jungle stalemate; after sniping at each other through the first half of the movie, in desperation Joanna finally breaks down:

Joanna: “Everything I say seems to make things worse. I'm trying not to irritate you.”
Christopher: “I've noticed that. I find it irritating.”

“The Girl from Ipanema” and “Corcovado” (introduced by one of my favorite vocalists—later The Godfather’s Mama Corleone—Morgana King) influenced movie soundtracks like the romantic soundtrack of A Man and a Woman. The 1959 Oscar-winning Black Orpheus’s “Samba De Orfeu” and the Oscar-nominated “Real in Rio” from the 2012 animated film Rio, both echo Brazil's musical tempos and continue to entertain, engage, and resonate on screen. Samba—Lambada—Bossa Nova. I can’t categorize the rhythms, much less dance to them, but hearing any sensuous Brazilian beat on the soundtrack is First Runner-Up on my Best of Brazil in the Movies.

I still think of Carmen Miranda with affection. Carmen Miranda was charming and funny, and more, she was fun. A New World song stylist, Miranda made her first recording in 1929 in Brazil and her recording of “Tai” the following year was Brazil’s highest-selling record of 1930.  She recorded 40 songs that first year for RCA and a total of 281 recordings that decade in Brazil. She was the recording, radio, stage, and movie superstar of Brazil. She starred on Broadway; she was a US radio and TV star; and she starred in 14 Hollywood musicals. At one time, Miranda was the highest-paid woman in Hollywood. Her energy on screen is infectious. A unique performer, on my list of Best of Brazil in the Movies, the winner hands down is Carmen Miranda.