10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

Diamonds Are Forever ’71

After the troubled post-production and mixed response to ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE (1969), James Bond would enter the  1970′s decade a different man. Even though OHMSS was a global hit by any standards, the length, tragic ending and George Lazenby made Cubby Brocoli nervous; instead of Ian Fleming’s follow-up novel, THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN, or the planned script with 007 seeking revenge for the murder of his wife, the producers opted for a lighter USA-centric script using the Las Vegas based DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER for the template. Guy Hamilton was brought back for his Midas directorial touch along with bizarre, desperate casting calls for an Americanized Bond to re-capture the dominant market. Potential candidates included Adam West, Burt Reynolds, Clint Eastwood and finally, John Gavin (PSYCHO; PUSSYCAT, PUSSYCAT, I LOVE YOU), who was actually signed to play the British secret agent. Ultimately, United Artists wanted Sean Connery and he was offered the highest salary ever paid to a film actor at the time.

Five years from his bored, contemptuous performance in YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE (1967), Connery seems to be enjoying himself here, as he actually gets a chance to play a few different personas such as a Dutch smuggler, a bereaved decoy and a radiation scientist. Nobody does a quip better than Sean Connery, and screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz provided him with some of his best lines in DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER. I particularly like his “Who is your floor?” query and of course, the brilliant moment where he uses Blofeld’s cat as bait but kills his double instead: “Right idea, Mr. Bond.” “But wrong pussy.” Charles Gray makes for the most fey, witty Blofeld in the series, although lacks the threat of such a nemesis. Jill St. John as the first Yank Bond Girl is bright, engaging but diluted by the end. The most memorable characters are Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd, the gay assassins (Bruce Glover took on Wint after Paul Williams (!) dropped out) whose sexuality was edited out of the first ABC network showings. Guy Hamilton’s light approach was the harbinger for the decade, and there’s little of Ian Fleming’s 007 essence or the admittedly pulpy story. Still, the scene where Bond scales the side of the Whyte House at night is an atmospheric spy beat with a terrific neon panorama backdrop. Yet compared to the structurally sound OHMSS, the narrative for DAF is a loose mess with a climatic oil rig battle lacking rhythm or kineticism — Blofeld’s defeat is barely established in the action.

DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER was released on December 17, 1971 and quickly became one of the biggest hits of the year, though ironically not much more so than OHMSS. Being the first Bond movie of the Me Decade, the tone is 0070′s indeed, with more risque humor and less 60′s pop style. To that end, John Barry’s evocative hit theme song uses a “wacka wacka” guitar under Shirley Bassey’s brassy voice; it’s one of my favorite scores in the series, utilizing cool lounge and suspense cues. Although an uneven film entry, there’s something wistful about Sean Connery’s last official Eon Production as 007 — the final moments with him smiling up at the diamond-veiled satellite circling the stars are a reminder of better Bond nights ahead and behind. To reverse Tiffany Case’s line from the novel, “It lives better than it reads.”

Favorite Arcade Game Theater: Cliff Hanger (1983)

I was so thrilled when this American version of the famed feature CASTLE OF CAGLIOSTRO (directed by master Hayao Miyazaki) was released as an arcade laserdisc game in 1983. Re-titled CLIFF HANGER for gaijin, these animated games didn’t do as well as hoped, with Don Bluth’s DRAGON’S LAIR the most notable casualty. Eventually, video games reached a staggering level of graphic quality, but I wished there had been a few more counterparts. Still, this was one of the few arcade games I made it all the way through, literally playing the entire manic clever feature surrounded by an audience. This promotional feature for CLIFF HANGER is fascinating and a blast to the quarter-killing past…

Merry Christmas Punk

Nothing defines the spirit of the season more than an angry cop with a giant gun hunting down a psycho killer. Talk about a War on Xmas!

Friday Xmas Song: Nina & John Barry

Perhaps Craig Kennedy’s favorite song. And certainly one of my seasonal standards.

Thunderball ’65

Released on December 21, 1965, the fourth James Bond film became an instant hit, with theaters running it 24 hours a day to keep up with audience demand and the 007 cultural phenomenon would reach its apex, not to mention Sean Connery’s breaking point at the avalanche of publicity. The film somewhat divides fans, with those who appreciate Terence Young’s last directorial outing, and he brings his tough style in tandem with arguably Connery’s most cool and controlled performance as Bond. Along with one of John Barry’s archetypal soundtracks, the Tom Jones mega-hit defines the brassy epic film, and Luciana Paluzi scores as an unrepentant femme fatale, who gets her comeuppance in one of the best scenes. This was also the first 007 adventure shot in glorious Panavision, and set the widescreen tone for the rest of the series. “So he strikes…like…Thunderball.”

Favorite Xmas Scene Theatre: The Year Without A Santa Claus (1974)

I don’t need to extoll the iconic virtues of the Rankin/Bass seasonal specials that dominated the airwaves of the 1960′s and 70′s. With lovely stop-motion “Animagic” by Tadahito Mochinaga and catchy clever songs by Maury Laws, it was never officially Christmas until Rudolph’s nose went bright with an electronic beep or the Burgermeister Meisterburger sang of his difficult responsibilities. He could have written a great Broadway musical, and since the specials featured stage folk like Mickey Rooney, Ethel Merman, Jimmy Durante, and Fred Astaire, it probably wasn’t far from his mind. In fact, Laws arguably greatest moment, the dueling songs of the irrepressible Snow and Heat Misers, from 1974′s THE YEAR WITHOUT A SANTA CLAUS, is the definition of a “show stopper.” Perfectly voiced by Dick Shawn and George S. Irving (natch), the binary team kick up an animated jazz storm and it doesn’t get much better then when the mini-heat miser chorus do their side-step tribute around their fiery boss as he wails, “Sing it!”

Blake Edwards RIP

 

I was fortunate enough to be near Blake Edwards twice in the past few years. The first was at the double feature of THE PARTY and SKIDOO as part of the Mods & Rockers Film Festival, where I was privileged to be interviewed along with John Phillip Law by impresario Martin Lewis. Blake Edwards was supposed to appear and discuss THE PARTY, but he wasn’t feeling well and had to decline. His lovely daughter Jennifer (who appeared in S.O.B.) said she would come to speak for him and during the film — which was going over like gangbusters to a packed house — I stepped outside to smoke and savor the evening. A slick black van pulled up and suddenly I was talking to one of Edwards’ other daughters, who told me, “There was no way he wasn’t going to show up.” Sure enough, Blake Edwards appeared in wheelchair and since he wanted no fanfare, he watched the rest of the film from the back of the theater, the roaring audience unaware that the writer/director was among them. I watched Edwards watching, and once the movie ended, his presence was announced to a long standing ovation, which he tried to wave off in real modesty.

I was doubly fortunate to attend a talk with him in September and a screening of my favorite of his films, the caustic S.O.B. (1981) at the Academy of Motion Pictures, moderated by veteran producer Walter Mirisch, with a nebula of stars in attendance (including Mr. Peel), and Edwards’ wife Julie Andrews sat only a few rows away, illuminated. To me, the evening was the essence of Hollywood Movie Magic. He was frail, but harsh and hilarious; sadly, they never actually talked about S.O.B. as I would have loved to hear him explain its genesis. Obviously the film is a tart rejoinder as a result of his experiences on DARLING LILI (1970), a unique World War I Road Show epic flop starring Rock Hudson and Julie Andrews that was cut to various lengths over the years. Our own “Cadavra” has the inside scoop on putting the deleted material onto DVD and Edwards himself even edited a new version — as usual, the UK and Australia DVD release now contains the full cut. So that’s why S.O.B. feels like a 70′s film set in the 80′s, as it details the story of a filmmaker who decides to turn his G-rated bomb into an X-rated hit with his own Julie Andrews surrogate, gamely played by Mrs. Andrews, who also exposes her “boobies.” It’s a bitter, funny roman a clef, and its shocking third act still throws the audience for a loop. I opted to see DRAGONSLAYER instead of S.O.B. when it opened but I watched it every single time it came on HBO.

Suffice to say, Edwards left behind a grand legacy of comedy and thrills, with not just the Pink Panther series, but fascinating dark treatsies such as THE DAYS 0F WINE AND ROSES (1962), and the stylish, creepy gem, EXPERIMENT IN TERROR (1963). He had an interesting propensity to use television actors in his films, no doubt due to his own tube work on the classic ultra-cool PETER GUNN series (and the unavailable 1966 feature, GUNN) featuring Henry Mancini’s iconic theme, one of many in collaboration. He loved slapstick but favored the widescreen, accounting for the dualities of THE GREAT RACE (1965), featuring Tony Curtis wandering through my favorite pie fight ever. He was also a proto-musical director, which came to fruition with his last big hit, VICTOR VICTORIA (1983). In some ways he was like a more congenial, libertine Billy Wilder with less cynicism; as his most personal film, THE PARTY, reveals, Blake Edwards wanted everybody to join in the fun. He’s a genuine auteur, an important part of Hollywood history and I’m certain he’s crossing his own deserved Moon River now.

Jean Rollin RIP

I’ve only seen twenty minutes of a Jean Rollin film and I put him alongside Jess Franco, whose work I’d rather read about than watch, but I’m hipster to Rollin’s sex blood vampire oeuvre. The stunning poster for LE FRISSON DES VAMPIRES by artist Phillipe Druillet remains one of his unique visceral legacies. Au revoir.

Favorite Scene Theatre: Beverly Hills Cop (1984)

Hard to believe BEVERLY HILLS COP opened way back on December 5, 1984, crushing DUNE that month, setting box-office records and establishing Eddie Murphy as the comedy star of the neon era. I missed the film in the theater, even though I was a big fan of his work on “Saturday Night Live” and thought him genius on his very first SNL appearance as “Little Richard Simmons.” So I was pleasantly surprised when I later rented the film on VHS and enjoyed it immensely, and still think it likely his best showcase as Detroit cop, Axel Foley. Martin Brest directs in a low-key style still within 70′s grit parameters; producers Jerry Bruckheimer and Don Simpson hadn’t yet perfected their glossy action template (was Victor Maitland the first Euro-trash villain of the 80′s?), so there’s a naturalism to the film that stands out today. John Ashton even manages to steal scenes from Murphy as the whole eclectic cast gets a chance to shine, from Damon Wayans as a fey waiter to Bronson Pinchot’s hilarious career-making turn as Serge, the art gallery assistant: his scene is the real subtext of BEVERLY HILLS COP — indeed the subtext of Los Angeles itself — the democratic ideal writ large, where people are separated by wealth but not by class (I think the worst scene in the film is Murphy trying to get a free room by screaming racism). I love that Serge is not presented as a snob foil, not offended at all by Alex’s repeated “Get the fuck outta here!” when told of the art prices. Of course, the memorable hit theme by Harold Faltermyer sells Axel In Hollywoodland, and when living right off Beverly Boulevard, I felt a nostalgic kinship to the film, soundtracked by the uber-80′s instrumental…

Retro-View: Dune (1984)

Since our own “Frank Booth” made me feel less than cinephillically adequate that I have never actually seen David Lynch’s film of DUNE (1984) for a variety of not particular reasons — the main being that I would prefer to see it in 70mm on the big screen with big Dolby sound — I thought it high time to watch the damn thing and complete a neglected section of my Lynch oeuvre. As a major devotee of his surreal world of light and dark, I could never see him as the most apropos choice for director of a such a science fiction talisman, though I have ruminations on what his version of RETURN OF THE JEDI (1983) would have looked like. Of course, I could never get past page one of Frank Herbert’s hefty tome and by the time I did, it felt like ten pages; I was not a heady sci-fi fan, and prefered Ray Bradbury’s poetic fantasy and Harlan Ellison’s hardcore speculations. I perused the Masters but eschewed epic sf trilogies and have a resistance to any novel that opens with a map. So I was immediately sorry for this 40 million dollar Dino De Laurentis production on its opening night, when my friend showed me the infamous glossary that was handed to him when he entered the theatre. I could picture an auditorium of teens looking down in the dark trying to assimilate names such as “Kwisatz Haderach” replete with helpful pronunciation guide. Roger Ebert called DUNE “the worst film of the year” (the kind of hyperbole that made me often disagree with him) and its box-office failure along with Lynch’s “heartbreak” at his lack of final cut would make the project a strange footnote in his career and the annals of science fiction cinema.

Seeing DUNE for the first time, it’s clear what works and what does not, almost in binary form. The film opens with Virginia Madsen’s opaque visage explaining the history of…hold on, I have it right here…the history of “Arrakis,” the titular sand planet. Lynch tries to fill in Herbert’s dense backstory with lengthy narration but it doesn’t have the luxury of a novel where you can marinate in the language. To that end, the characters narrate as we hear their spoken thoughts, a very distancing device. That’s my shorthand for saying the film makes little sense to me, though I follow its primary narrative. And that’s okay, because there are pleasures to be had here for the active-minded. The costume and production design by Bob Rigngwod and Anthony Masters is spectacular, with otherworldly outfits and massive interiors; Freddie Francis shot the film in his eye-popping widescreen style, capturing the outre scope of the desert world with Alan Splet’s amazing sound design.

The cast is fascinating, and Kyle MacLachlan makes his debut, but not a real impression until BLUE VELVET (1985), and stalwarts like Max Von Sydow, Dean Stockwell, Jurgen Prochnow, Linda Hunt, Patrick Stewart, not to mention Sean Young, Alicia Witt and scene-stealers like Brad Dourif and Kenneth McMillan as the bloated, revolting Baron Harkonnen, backed by Paul Smith (Bluto from POPEYE) with Sting, who’s actually good as an egomaniacal villain. Even ERASERHEAD himself, Jack Nance, shows up along with another future TWIN PEAKS star, Everett McGill. Oddly, the special effects are subpar for such an expensive film, with obvious blue-screen work and unconvincing miniatures; Carlo Rambaldi fares better with the famous sand worms and the Cronenbergesque creatures. The soundtrack by Toto (!) and Brian Eno is surprisingly effectual, except for the final theme which sounds like Toto kareoke. Taken as a purely visual experience, DUNE is something to behold and Frank Herbert was pleased with the film; it’s a minor miracle one of the most pure science fiction epics even made it to the screen. Although I would have prefered to see Alejandro Jodorowsky’s famed attempt, with spfx by Dan O’Bannon, design by H.R.Giger (who Lynch unwisely rejected) and Salvador Dali as Harkonnen…

Lennon

Imagine this going down today on television….

Duran Duran: All You Need Is Now

My beloved New Romantics sail into their third decade with their 13th studio release, “All You Need Is Now.” With only the ornery Andy Taylor in absentia (too bad since his rough guitars are missed), John Taylor, Roger Taylor, Nick Rhodes and our poet of Oktober, Simon LeBon, strive for a more 80′s tone courtesy of producer Mark Ronson, who qualified this new digital itunes release as a sequel to their pop masterpiece, “Rio.” I’m always happy when one of my defining bands continues to pump out the dance-and-drama tunage well into the 21st century…Sing Blue Silver!

The Happy Meal Adventure Is Just Beginning

Soundtrack Cue Of The Year

If there’s a better track than “Dream Is Collapsing” by Hans Zimmer from INCEPTION…I’m waiting.