Favorite Musical Scene Theatre: Popeye (1980)

Robert Altman’s oddest and most radical film arguably remains his big studio musical version of POPEYE, starring Robin Williams in his film debut as the titular one-eyed sea dog, one of the great casting coups in movie history — whatever one thinks of the movie. Altman might have seemed a most unusual choice to helm a cartoon musical Christmas spectacular, but given that E.C. Segar’s character is a distinct part of Americana folklore, it’s no surprise Altman and screenwriter Jules Feiffer wanted to put their own subversive spin on Popeye (he even hates spinach). Which they did to the dismay of some, and though the film made an impressive 50 million dollars, it was perceived as a failure, likely due to the critical confusion at Robert Altman shooting scenes with rubber arms and squids.

I saw this opening day and enjoyed it as a child, even though I was underwhelmed by the lack of choreographed spectacle. Altman’s improvisatory style is an uneasy mix here, his trademark sound design apropos for Popeye’s mumblings, but when you want the film to kick in with cartoon pizazz, the intimacy dulls some of the big moments. Still, the casting is pitch perfect, notably Shelly Duvall as Olive Oyl, truly born to the role. You have to adore Harry Nilsson’s score, primed as he was to do a proper musical, and in this scene, Popeye has his moment of late 70′s self-realization in a gambling hall to the tune of “I Yam What I Yam.” I love William’s mumbled monologues and even the make-up is terrific; I still think this is his greatest film performance. He’s Popeye, The Sailor Man!

“God Bless you, Quentin Tarantino.”

As a frequent patron to the wonderful New Beverly Cinema a few blocks away, I was thrilled to hear that long-time regular and Guardian Angel Quentin Tarantino had taken over the building so that the theater could live on in an era where going out to a repertory house is a privilege, not a cultural right anymore. Sherman Torgan, the theater’s late founder, told me great stories about his life in repertory, though he was rightfully saddened by the dwindling of dedicated moviegoers, some who think that a digital replication is the only proper way to view a film. But the best way to view a film is in a movie theater, and Michael Torgan has kept the projectors reeling; the New Bev has great new cozy seats, a fantastic redesigned sound and projection system, and at 7 bucks for a double-feature — with awesome crew and cheap delicious snackage — including programming by Tarantino, Joe Dante, Edgar Wright, Diablo Cody and others, there’s no better movie deal in town. And it’s no accident the French theater from INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS looks familiar (Tarantino even had Melanie Laurent operate the projectors there to prep for her role). Thanks to Mr. Peel for alerting me to this clip of QT on Craig Ferguson talking about subtext and the New Beverly. In a town where motion picture landmarks vanish overnight, you have to give mad props to Quentin for putting his money where his mouth is.

Friday Song: Dusty Springfield

Dusty Springfield is one of those 1960′s pop figures who veered in and out of style for her long career (another reason I bow to the Pet Shop Boys is for bringing her back to the public light with their 1986 hit “What Have I Done To Deserve This?”). She burst onto the scene in 1963 and entered the international cinematic jet set era with her classic rendition of Burt Bacharach’s “The Look of Love” from CASINO ROYALE (1967). Being a “white soul” singer and genuine proponent of the Motown sound, she marked her territory with her 1969 masterpiece, “Dusty In Memphis,” featuring hits like “Son Of A Preacher Man” and others. This would make a perfect book-end to “Elvis In Memphis,” both featuring the same great session men that helped create that wonderful late 60′s sonic shell. The whole album is layered in soulful vocals and silky strings, framed by a distinctly Southern ambiance. Probably my favorite track is “Just A Little Lovin’,” the song that kicks off the record, a sensual ode to the best way to start the day…

Blu-ray Theater Vol. II

Yes, it’s time for another recap of some choice Blu-ray releases. I wish I had a more clever name for these posts. But I don’t. Perhaps you can help. On with the show:

THE LIVING DEAD AT THE MANCHESTER MORGUE (1974) – Also known by its original title of LET SLEEPING CORPSES LIE and the American drive-in version, DON’T OPEN THE WINDOW, I recall reading a blurb about this in CINEFANTASTIQUE where the only praise given was to the brief very-70′s moment where a nude woman rushes through a crowded city as people ignore her. What does that have to do with the film? I’m not sure except that society is so jaded that the two leads are unable to convince anybody that the Living Dead have become re-animated due to an agricultural sonic radiation device. This missing link zombie film between George Romero’s 1968 classic and his 1978 follow-up DAWN OF THE DEAD is one of the best of the decade, stylishly directed by Jorge Grau and beautifully shot with atmosphere galore and a surprising level of violence. It doesn’t belong in the category of cheap Spaghetti Zombie rip-offs that dominated the post-DOTD era, but I would be surprised if Romero hadn’t seen this before filming his regarded sequel. The two leads are unlikable in that 70′s way, but they’re pishers next to Arthur Kennedy, who might be the worst detective in film history with an Irish temper to boot — no doubt at playing second-fiddle to zombies tearing a woman’s breast open. TLDATMM is paced more languid than the recent Italian undead films, and that works to its genuinely creepy ambiance and unsettling soundtrack. The Blu-ray is loaded with goodies, including a funny intro by director Grau and a panopoly of awesome grindhouse ads and posters. The transfer is stunning and the lush primordial green of the countryside adds to the gothic vibe. This unique horror effort belongs in the Zombie pantheon.

INGLORIOUS BASTERDS (2009) – My favorite film of the year was this Men On A Mission suspense comedy about the nature of linguistics and propaganda wrapped up in Quentin Tarantino’s audacious cinematic revisionist storytelling. The two dramatic set pieces in the farmhouse and the cellar bar are masterpieces of acting, tension and direction. We all know how fantastic Christoph Waltz is as Hans Landa (even the character can’t even contain his own glee at this role of a lifetime) but there are wonderful ensemble moments, particularly Daniel Bruhl as Frederick Zoller, who is almost the most empathetic character in the film (his attempts to reach out to Shosanna are a serio-tragic glimpse at the gulf of war); and August Diehl as Major Hellstrom, the slinky SS man who tries to deduce the identity of the German officers in the bar — I love Diehl’s quiet whistle as he waits for drinks after realizing they are no Nazis. I even dig Mike Myers here, especially since Rod Taylor puts in a welcome appearance as Churchill. The Blu-ray looks terrific, befitting Robert Richardson’s crisp 2.35:1 cinematography, and there are plenty extras, including the complete NATION’S PRIDE film, but sadly, no excised footage of Cloris Leachman and Maggie Chueng. In the end, INGLORIOUS BASTERDS is a paen to the flickering power of cinema to change the world.

THE SEARCHERS (1956) - Like I said, I have gaps in my film skoolin’ — still never seen an Ophuls or De Sica (but I have sat through SKIDOO well over 30 times) — and I remain a virtual John Ford virgin, with only STAGECOACH and finally, THE SEARCHERS, to my resume. I’m down with that ignorance as it can be corrected and there’s few more satisfying esthetic pleasures than finally watching a “classic” that turns out to actually be a classic. I’ve actually avoided reading everything about THE SEARCHERS my whole movie-lovin’ life, just so I could watch it with virgin eyes. Amazingly, I even thought it was in black & white! Imagine my joyous surprise to sit down and viddy this panoramic epic in startling VistaVision Technicolor. This is one of the most beautiful Blu-ray transfers yet, with a depth of field that feels almost three-dimensional. And what a film. John Wayne has never been better in his favorite role as Ethan Edwards, the hardened vet who spends years tracking down the Indian-kidnapped daughter (Natalie Wood) of his relatives. Regardless of his limited thespic range, he’s utterly believable as an obsessed half-bigot whose only goal is to “mercifully” end the life of the defiled young woman. There are many terrific, unforgettable moments, particularly the ominous pregnant pause before the Indian raid on a homestead, the sunset painting the entire frame in a lurid golden hue. While John Ford would be the first to laugh at any sub-textual read of his films, the fact is that the psychology is there, whether Ford was aware or not — and I don’t believe for a second he didn’t know what he was doing. The greatness of THE SEARCHERS is no accident.

DR. NO (1962) – Speaking of John Wayne, I hold firm to the opine that the two most iconic actor introduction scenes in film history are the Duke’s hero-making dolly shot in STAGECOACH (1939) and Sean Connery’s reveal as “Bond, James Bond” from the first 007 adventure, DR. NO. While the cinematic template for Ian Fleming’s debonair secret agent didn’t become firm until GOLDFINGER (1964), this first — and one of the best — outing sets up the pattern for the future series. Stylishly directed by Terence Young, featuring the great artisians who would contribute to the archetypal look of the films such as production designer Ken Adams, editor Peter Hunt and of course, John Barry launching a new wave of music cool with his explosive theme, DR. NO is probably the most “realistic” of the series and quite faithful to the novel. Connery’s performance as Bond is something else, his charming, aggressive demeanor pitched in a different key (“I’m feeling Italian and musical”) before he found his groove in GOLDFINGER. Joseph Wiseman is terrific as the titular character, and his cat-and-mouse dinner scene with Bond is one of my favorite scenes in the series. But of course the Blu-ray looks astonishing in its color and clarity, and there is the usual carnival of extras, although the menus are still overlong and overtly complicated. Can’t wait for the next Bond Blu-ray go round, including ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE (1969).

Office Gangsta

If you’re working in an office on a fresh Monday, this one’s for you. And if you’re not, you’re lucky.

Nope.

Saturday Afternoon 1978

Lionel Jeffries RIP

Living In Cinema alerted me to the sad news that one of my favorite 60′s character actors has passed onto that great footlight in the sky. Lionel Jeffries was the archetypal British eccentric in films like CAMELOT (1967), CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG (1968) and my personal favorite role of his, THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON (1964). He had that stiff-upper-lip, fought-in-the-Boer War, absent-minded-inventor persona down pat, major.

Friday Song: The Monkees

I’ve written before about my unapologetic love for the Monkees and their diverse pop repertoire. Their success tangentially led to the birth of the New American Cinema of the 1970′s, with key players Jack Nicholson, Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider among others. Their 1968 film HEAD is a rightly-regarded prelude to the next movie wave, regardless whether The Monkees were only a Beatles duplicate — and the Liverpool Lads loved them; that’s why Michael Nesmith was one of the assembled for the orchestral recording for “A Day In The Life.” Speaking of Nesmith, next to Peter Tork he was the most serious and accomplished musician of the group, and he penned terrific songs on his own for The Monkees. My particular favorite thanksforasking remains this country flavored ode to the one who got away, “What Am I Doing Hangin’ ‘Round” from 1967. I couldn’t find a clip from the original show but here’s something equaly unique and slightly surreal: The Monkess sans Mike Nesmith performing the song at Nashville during their huge comeback in 1987. It’s a wonderful tune any way it’s played and The Monkees do a grand ol’ job of it here to an appreciative audience.

Favorite Scene Theatre: It’s A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963)

Oh boy, do I LOVE this movie. As any self-respecting film comedy fan should. Although IAMMMMW has taken a critical drubbing from some quarters over the year — particularly Danny Peary, who included it in his indispensable Cult Movies book series, but doesn’t have much good to say about the film, finding it low in physical slapstick and mean-spirited. But I think this represents Stanley Kramer’s dark id, since his work dealt so sensitively with issues and people (THE DEFIANT ONES; ON THE BEACH; INHERIT THE WIND; GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER); it’s nice that for one production he let out his angst with a cast of greedy rotters.

I agree that it should be funnier given the mega-all-star-comedy wattage, but I adore the sheer 70mm Cinerama Roadshow chutzpah of the thing. And Dick Shawn makes me laugh out loud every time he does his boho beach-nik dance. Plus Jonathan Winters (“But this is a bike. A bike for little girls”) and Phil Silvers (“What’s with the little kiddie bicycle? What are you, some kind of nut?”) kill and the cameos galore are the adornments on the over-size cake. God Bless Robert Harris in his restoration efforts.

It’s impossible to pick one favored bit of IAMMMMW, but one of the most memorable remains the brief appearance of the Three Stooges, who were in the midst of a surprising 60′s revival due to their shorts playing all over the tube. I love this tribute scene that sadly doesn’t put them in action, but sets up their iconic incompetence. For once in their career, Stanley Kramer gave the Three Stooges their finest directed moment.

Japanese Sci-Fi Theater: Latitude Zero (1969)

I’ve finally seen the one major Toho film of the 1960′s that had escaped my viewing grasp: LATITUDE ZERO. In my youth, I had been tantalized by two black and white images in FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND — how could you not want to see Joseph Cotton and Cesar Romero in silver suits pointing to a giant flying winged lion? But due to legal hassles, the film was kept out of circulation until the heroes at MEDIA BLASTERS/TOKYO SHOCK released a wonderful two-disc (!) DVD set in 2007 with the International version and the Japanese version. Interestingly, the English version is ten minutes longer. Intended to be a big budget American/Japanese co-production, the English backers dropped off at the last minute and the financial hijinks ensued. The American cast had to be convinced to work without pay until the last day of shooting (they were). This was also special effects maestro Eiji Tsubraya’s last Toho film, and while some of the ship miniatures are spectacular, the monsters are the most unimaginative of the era, rejects from Tsubraya’s ULTRAMAN series.

Still, they fit the funky, wide-screen lounge stylings of the set design and hammy performances from Toho’s biggest “all star cast.” I remember looking at that FM photo of Joseph Cotton in his silver suit pointing to a giant flying winged lion and wondering how the man who worked with Welles and Hitchcock (and was in PETULIA the year before) felt about this strange gig. He was probably happy to be akin to a leading man, the 200 year old ruler of a seaworld utopia where the inhabitants dress in clothes from every period. In his open shirt and scarf, Cotton looks like a new age Mr. Furley but somehow manages to bring a game face to his role. As the villain, Cesar Romero gorges on the scenery, with none of the wicked malevolence of his Joker (he was even more subtle in SKIDOO). But he has a fun partner in crime, Patricia Medina, who plays his Lady Macbeth; let’s put it this way, there’s leopard skin furniture in their space-age headquarters. Linda Haynes makes her debut as the beautiful blonde doctor in white go-go boots and it’s cool to think she’d soon be appearing in ROLLING THUNDER and THE DROWNING POOL. Even more radical, for the only time in kaiju history, the actors are not dubbed, including de rigeur Toho leading man, Akira Takarada and it’s quite cool to hear him speak pretty good English. Richard Jaeckel, fresh from the wacked alien classic MGM/Toho co-production of THE GREEN SLIME (1968), is the crew-cut photographer (shades of Nick Adams) who ends up in a bathysphere with him as they are sucked into the fantastic underwater world of LATITUDE ZERO.

The script was actually co-written by an American, Ted Sherdamen, who also wrote the seminal 1954′s atomic insect classic, THEM! This accounts for the high pulp quotient of the story, a cross between 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA and LOST HORIZON. But with a giant flying winged lion. The story meanders and it’s tough to suss out the plot, and the odd “twist” ending left me confused. Director Ishiro Honda does his usually stolid widescreen work here, hampered as he was by the split budget. Akira Ikufube contributes an unusual score with his familiar Toho kaiju tone, adding a nifty harpsichord riff to the mix.

The Tokyo Shock DVD looks great in 2:35.1 anamorphic, although the Japanese version looks a little sharper. Extras on the disc include around 20 minutes of cool deleted special effects from this and other Toho films. While LATITUDE ZERO doesn’t live up to my childhood projections nor the spectacular poster design, it’s a fun Saturday afternoon sci-fi movie and I was happy to finally cross it off my must-see list. And there’s a giant flying winged lion.

President’s Day

Happy Valentine’s Day

The Wolf, Man

If Paul Naschy had 100 million dollars to make a werewolf movie, this is what he’d make. I mean this as a compliment to THE WOLFMAN.

Friday Song: Belle & Sebastian

Ah, could I be more bloody obvious now and slip out the kings and queen of 90′s indie pop quirk? But I was into these guys before anybody! Or at least I got into them through the barrista at my late, lamented Mojo’s Daily Grind back in Austin, Texas, my favorite cafe of all time. I was sitting at my usual window spot, reflecting on the ever-evolving chaos of life when the melodic, catchy and bouyant sounds of “Seeing Other People” rose on the stereo and I suddenly felt secure in my  present, hopeful for the future. I was hooked for life and immediately purchased their classic 1996 disc, “If You’re Feeling Sinister.” While “Seeing Other People” is still my most beloved Belle & Sebastian song, there’s no good video out there, so my second fave will suffice, the ode to beat and upbeat metaphysical wandering, “Sleep The Clock Around” from their wry, jubilant 1998, “The Boy With The Arab Strap.” Although Indie Quirk has sullied some of their aura, Belle & Sebastian are safely ensconced in my pop pantheon.