Showing posts with label actors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label actors. Show all posts

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Quitcher Bitchin'!

You know why we don't blog much any more?

THIS is why. We spend all our time reading about films and film-making and hiking and reading (Indian history & culture this year; last year was SoutheastAsian history and culture); next year we go BACK to reading Chinese/Japanese/Korean history and culture in honour of the several hundred new acquisitions in that field).

This year's book list had 160 books on it. Still haven't posted my reviews, but, akan datang as we sometimes say in (parts of) SoutheastAsia. I know this.

We've watched a fucking shitload of films from, basically, 1895 (the very first Edison & Melies & Gaumont, etc.) to around 1930/1950. Last night we finally got to Elia Kazan's film, "Gentleman's Agreement."

This film won FOUR Oscars out of seven nominations. Including one for Best Director to Elia Kazan. It got rave reviews from everybody. What I want to know is, WHY? If you haven't seen it already, be warned. This is a terrible film. It was probably a great book, and I'd like to read that, but the whole thing was filmed in a way that completely ignores the magic & power of film. It was plotted and blocked and shot like a play in a theater. The camera is almost always static and views everything from about eye-level. There are no interesting angles, no especial or notable beauty or power in the scenes. They're competent. There are no major flaws in the film, although it could have been SO much better.

I had great expectations of this film. Gregory Peck has always done a great job on the screen, which loved his handsome face and class and style. But the dialog poor Peck had to declaim in this film was so thunderingly wooden, I almost up and died out of sympathy for the poor guy. He did a marvelous job, but really. The writer gave nearly every other character witty, dazzling, clever dialogue. WTF happened when he got to Greg's lines? Did he just hate the handsome hero, or what? Because watching the poor man sweat through some of those clunkers was pretty goddamn sad.

I'm not knocking the subject matter. In fact, I wish it had been far MORE searing, exposing the fate of the poor Jews in the tenements of New York, rather than the elegant country estates of the supposed supporters of anti-discrimination measures. And the film was certainly honest enough to expose the hidden anti-Semitism of the very people most affected by it, the Jewish employee of the liberal rag who fears that the "wrong type" will be hired if discrimination ends. It was a socially important film, just as Gone With The Wind was. But I don't have to like a film just for being socially important, if it's bereft of the art, quality, grace, style, and imagination of other films.

I blame the director for my disappointment, but admit that there might be some ambiguity in that blame. I'm well aware of Kazan's testimony before HUAC that landed so many of his colleagues and competitors on the blacklists. I despise the man for the suffering he caused. Is that colouring my critique of him? I thought so initially, and wrestled with committing my thoughts to the InterToobz (which, as we all know, are a series of large pipes, not trucks, filled with pictures of cats). But then I found, on IMDB, several people who seem to echo my sentiment.

In all fairness, it was Kazan's first film and he trained as a stage director (the same could be said of Hitchcock, though, who understood almost instinctively the great power of the camera and worked some two decades earlier). I shall watch the rest of Kazan's ouevre before further comment. I do want to comment on a few things, though, and I welcome feedback.

  1. The camera is almost always a passive observer of staged scenes in which two or more people converse This slows the pace so that it is almost always glacial.
  2. All the action is limited to the frame of that stage. Hardly anyone looks offstage or walks out of camera range or moves across the observing lens, or towards, or away from, it.
  3. The director seemed unsure whether to focus on the anti-Semitism that was the focal point of the story, or the romance.
  4. The camera lingered on many scenes for far too long.
  5. All technical aspects of the film were pretty good. Good lighting, good script (except for Peck's lines), witty dialogue, fine actors giving their best.
  6. Lots of unfinished business and hanging ends. WTF ever happened to Anne's proposal to Phil? Did he take advantage of it? Turn her down? WHAT? Did he take back his resignation? Decide to stay in NY? He certainly couldn't move up to Connecticut with the lovely Dorothy McGuire. She was supposedly moving to CT to ensure that his buddy David could live in her cottage without problems.
  7. Whoever did the sound for the movie should be shot as an example to similar sinners. The sudden sweep of wailing violins every time the hero approaches the heroine gets to be a bit much after the 47th instance, jesusfuckingchrist.
So yeah. Do Not Want.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Film: Best of

Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it ... I must have read fifty goddamn best of lists so far. Best movies of the decade. Best movies of Hollywood. Best movies of the 21st century. Best movies from countries where they don't speak English. Best movies you can enjoy while masturbating.

Well, whatFUCKINGEVER, y'all. I don't give a shit. I'm gonna put up my OWN list of best movies. These are the best movies I have ever seen in all my life. If you haven't seen them yet, it just proves that you're a miserable poseur (poseuse?) with no life, no balls (or other gonadal substitutes), no time ... ah, fuhgeddaboudit.

Actually it doesn't prove squat. Except, maybe, I watched way too many movies in my wild and wicked yoof. Most of these are available on Netflix, in case you wanna watch'em.

Best Movies I Ever Saw:

Monday, December 29, 2008

Harold Pinter: Death may be ageing, but he still has clout


Pinter did what Auden said a poet should do. He cleaned the gutters of the English language, so that it ever afterwards flowed more easily and more cleanly. We can also say that over his work and over his person hovers a sort of leonine, predatory spirit which is all the more powerful for being held under in a rigid discipline of form, or in a black suit...The essence of his singular appeal is that you sit down to every play he writes in certain expectation of the unexpected. In sum, this tribute from one writer to another: you never know what the hell's coming next.
-- David Hare in Harold Pinter: A Celebration


My first experience with Harold Pinter’s work was in college when I took a Theatre of the Absurd course. It was one of my favorite classes while I was in college. It actually made me think ... and, it was a small class (some of my classes had 400+ students in them) so you could participate in some interesting discussions. I admired him from the first.

As Carey Perloff says about him:
Pinter had immense respect for the mystery, the privacy, the "unknowingness," of the people in his plays. This is rare in a writer. Pinter knew that his characters were hidden, silent, often lying, always evading. His job was to listen acutely to what they were willing to say, and wait for the moment when their masks would drop.
I loved that about his plays. I often didn't know exactly what was going on ... but I was feeling something intense anyway. His words were tapping into something core without explaining things to death.

Later, I got to know more about his politics and I admired him for that too. He was so outspoken when so many other writers, actors, and artists do nothing. From the article about him in Wikipedia:
In accepting an honorary degree at the University of Turin (27 November 2002), he stated: "I believe that [the United States] will [attack Iraq] not only to take control of Iraqi oil, but also because the American administration is now a bloodthirsty wild animal. Bombs are its only vocabulary." Distinguishing between "the American administration" and American citizens, he added the following qualification: "Many Americans, we know, are horrified by the posture of their government but seem to be helpless."

We mourn the loss of another great soul. May he be at rest.

Death May Be Ageing

Death may be ageing
But he still has clout

But death disarms you
With his limpid light

And he's so crafty
That you don't know at all

Where he awaits you
To seduce your will
And to strip you naked
As you dress to kill

But death permits you
To arrange your hours

While he sucks the honey
From your lovely flowers
Harold Pinter
April 2005

Another poem by Harold Pinter:

Laughter

Laughter dies out but is never dead

Laughter lies out the back of its head

Laughter laughs at what is never said

It trills and squeals and swills in your head

It trills and squeals in the heads of the dead

And so all the lies remain laughingly spread

Sucked in by the laughter of the severed head

Sucked in by the mouths of the laughing dead.


To see an interview of Harold Pinter on Charlie Rose's show, go here. If you'd like to see Harold Pinter's Nobel lecture upon accepting his Nobel award, go here.

And, in today's San Francisco Chronicle, there is a wonderful piece by Carey Perloff, artistic director of San Francisco's American Conservatory Theater (ACT). She quotes him in the article: "When you can't write, you feel as if you've been banished from yourself." If you'd like to read the entire article, please click here.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward: Happy 50th Anniversary!!!


Photo by Mark Rupp

The Oakland Tribune reported today (29-Jan-2008) that Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman were married on this day in 1958.

MAZEL TOV!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!

Ms. Manitoba loves their style, their acting, and their humanity.

If you haven't seen them in Empire Falls ... oh, dear, you're missing something very fine. Highly recommended.