The Coming Attractions of Twenty Heaventeen

If there is anything that truly deep-in-the-stop-bath film lovers secretly, or not-so-secretly, love to do, it's imagine the dream movies their heroes would make if by some miracle said obsessive was greenlighting projects. Seattle's long-running alternative weekly The Stranger used to have a wonderful series of Photoshopped advertisements touting fake "lost" movies by dead filmmakers, suggesting that Orson Welles had done a drama about corruption in boxing or Sam Peckinpah managed to get one last bloody western made. When beloved New Beverly Cinema founder Sherman Torgan died in 2007, Patton Oswalt paid tribute with a wonderfully poignant "film festival" of, as he put it, "never weres, could-have-beens, and the lost." Certainly among the millions who enjoyed last year's Academy Award winner ARGO were those who were busy imagining what the fake movie at the heart of its plot could have looked like were it shot. And one of the most anticipated movies of the new year is JODOROWSKY'S DUNE, a documentary about the ambitious, and ultimately futile, attempt by the legendary director of EL TOPO to adapt the dense Frank Herbert sci-fi epic before its ultimate compromised version years later by David Lynch.

As such, I'm not immune from these fantasies, and during some slow nights this past holiday season, when I needed to economize and couldn't justify going out to the movies nor muster interest in what I had on DVD at home, I thus came up with a list of bogus blockbusters of the future that I would lurve to see. As much as I often dream of a world where the directors I love that are currently stuck working network television and teaching classes would get million dollar budgets again, and Michael Bay would have to hold a bake sale just to shoot a SnapChat photo, on this occasion I chose to stick to writers and directors currently active and "hot" right now, for the same reason that George Carlin and Billy Heeny "thought about" girls in the neighborhood: it seems more possible. At least a few of the talents in question have indeed visited in here in the past, so maaaaaaaaybeeeeee this might spark some imagination to make these a reality in the not-too-distant-future, next Summer A.D.

(That being said, aside from novel adaptations, let's consider these pitches under common-law-copyright to me; if I discover you horking these concepts the way you horked Quentin's HATEFUL EIGHT script, you'll be hearing from my attorneys at the law offices of John, Jacob, Jingleheimer, and Schmidt.)

RED LORRY, YELLOW LAURIE - written and directed by Edgar Wright

An English long-distance truck driver (Nick Frost) is forced to share his cab with a slimy efficiency expert (Nick Kroll) from the American corporation he delivers for. They must, however, work together when their route crosses paths with the dangerous "Burma-Shave Killer" and one of his escaped targets (Jaime Winstone).

WE HAVE A SAVIOR - written and directed by Asia Argento

The Shaggs were easily the most unconventional pop act of the late '60's, three sisters practically forced into making music by their spiritually-motivated father. As such, under the vision of Argento, their story is bifurcated into an initially straightforward account of the drama behind their sole album, followed by a wild speculative alternate history about the worldwide success that had been dreamed of in their inception, including an explosive appearance on Italian television featuring cameos by Ellen Page and Argento herself as popular European chanteuses Rita Pavone and Mina. In exchange for financing this project, Argento agreed to come out of acting retirement to appear in...

xXx: E PLURIBUS BURNEM - written and directed by John Hyams

When NSA Agent Augustus Gibbons (Samuel L. Jackson) is murdered under impenetrable means, Agent Darius Stone (Ice Cube) is promoted to his position, and his first order of business is to locate the falsely-believed-dead Xander Cage (Vin Diesel) and his ally KGB agent Yelena (Asia Argento) to investigate this mystery. Once found, they are thrust into a deep penetration mission in Turkey involving bankrupted Greek industrialists, Armenian militants, and the Arab Spring, with a much-too-genial street bootlegger (Jason Mantzoukas) the apparent link to the impending carnage.

THE SATURDAYS - written for the screen by Diablo Cody, directed by Lorene Scafaria

Elizabeth Enright's beloved series of books about the four precocious Melendy children in pre-World War II New York City begins with the siblings agreeing to pool their otherwise small allowances so that once a week, one of the four can go off to have a unique Saturday afternoon to remember. And as the eldest seeks to present herself as more adult, the middle two explore high art, and the youngest discovers how to make the large-looming city smaller and more navigable, they all bond in what their singular explorations have brought to their collective growth.

MAFIA KINGPIN - written for the screen and directed by Rian Johnson

In 1981, Sonny Gibson wrote a purported autobiography called MAFIA KINGPIN, casting himself as a connected hitman, drug-smuggler, and well-paid male prostitute who turned his life around in prison. But years later, a court case proved he and his failed pop-star/co-author/girlfriend Reparata Mazzola were none of those things, just small-time con artists. But for decades, they continued to ply this fake legacy into film projects and business deals that swindled hundreds. Johnson hilariously yet sincerely contrasts the real-life career of Gibson and Mazzola to the outrageous fantasy of big time crimes they documented in their fictionalized book, to illustrate how and why such a wild tale could be conceived by them, and sold to others.

FEAR OF FLYING - written for the screen and directed by Lena Dunham

After decades of false starts and being considered near-unfilmable, Erica Jong's influential novel finally reaches the screen. Isadora Wing (Alison Brie) is a working published poet in the '70's feeling herself overwhelmed by an unsatisfying marriage, lack of respect from her peers, troubling reactions from readers of her work, and her constant conflicted sexual desires, exemplified in her obsession with finding the mythical "zipless fuck," the perfect unburdened encounter with a stranger. And on a globetrotting voyage for academic and personal purposes, she learns even more complicated details about the new sexual freedom and her place within it.

KING AND JESTER - written and directed by Robbie Pickering

In the early '60's, the two biggest stars working for Paramount under canny producer Hal B. Wallis (Bill Murray) were Elvis Presley (Channing Tatum) and Jerry Lewis (Josh Fadem). When studio president Barney Balaban (Bob Balaban, playing his own father) suggests teaming them up for a movie, everyone agrees this is a natural pairing. So why did the movie never get made? This comedic mystery suggests that shady dealings by the infamous Colonel Tom Parker (Toby Jones) and some military secrets inadvertently picked up in Germany during Elvis' mandatory Army service, not to mention the wild offscreen antics of both stars, may hold the keys to the Greatest Teaming Never Told.

THE ANGRY GRIFFITH SHOW - written and directed by Ava DuVernay

Race relations and cinematic sacred cows are mercilessly satirized as a media production student (John Boyega) at a Southern college, irritated when his objections to prolonged hagiography of BIRTH OF A NATION are blown off by his pompous professor (Glenn Howerton), decides to get even by writing and directing a savage mock "making-of" the film as his final project for the class. But when he challenges himself to use the same technological limitations as would have been in place at the dawn of feature filmmaking, the ambitious plan begins to overwhelm him, as he himself runs afoul of campus p.c. enforcers uncomfortable with his editorial decisions, and the stress causes him to repeatedly have hallucinations of D.W. Griffith himself (Tim Roth) taunting him. He soon fears that he may not be able to make his artistic statement without also becoming memorialized in infamy.

FOUCAULT'S PENDULUM - written for the screen and directed by Shane Carruth

The dense and confounding novel by NAME OF THE ROSE author Umberto Eco is adapted by the director responsible for two mind-scrambling fantasies of his own. Three men working for a small publishing house amuse themselves by trying to link every popular conspiracy theory, shadow organization, and other assorted urban legends into one master conspiracy. Gradually, however, they begin to believe in their own connections, and other mysterious groups start coming out of the shadows who believe in the unification even more so than them, and demand they deliver answers that the three did not plan for when they first started coming up with "The Plan."

DEBORAH'S DYNASTY - written and directed by Quentin Tarantino

In early 20th century New York, an immigrant runaway (Saoirse Ronan) is torn between keeping a dead-end seamstress job and joining the rising Suffragette movement. But after a series of brutal murders of women remain unsolved by a less-than-aggressive police, and a deadly fire kills hundreds at her factory but the rich proprietors elude justice, she is drawn into a secret all-female vigilante society named for the Biblical warrior judge, who intends to punish all those who are profiting from the abuse of women. As their notoriety spreads, the forces that want to end them come closing in, including that uncaptured serial killer. The surprising conclusion to the "Right Side of History/Wrong Side of an Asskicking" trilogy also stars Colleen Camp, Carol Lynley, Sybill Danning, and Emily Lloyd as Nellie Bly.

That's enough fantasy film foolishness for this entry. Intermission time.

In Just Seven Frames, I Can Make You a Cineaste

(or: Fuck Film School, Let's Get Drunk And Eat Meatloaf!)

You there! With the stack of black T-shirts and the $75 Blu-Ray player you got on Black Friday! Did you go to that revival screening of a favorite '80's movie and find yourself surrounded by bitter bloggers in junket hoodies and Teva sandals mocking you because you didn't know the difference between the KICKING AND SCREAMING with Chris Eigeman and the KICKING AND SCREAMING with Will Ferrell? Did you sign up for a what you thought was a production class at your college only to spend hours having some deranged Eastern European drone about how Anton LaVey cockblocked him over Maya Deren? Do you just want a little head start in learning the lingua franca of film geeks so that you can hold your own in 2a.m. Denny's debates and not get sent over to sit in the other booth with Mohammad, Jugdish, Sydney, and Clayton and listen to them badly recite the same "BIG BANG THEORY" quotes again?

Sure, you know plenty of the names that everybody knows in the film industry, but the reason why is because we hear those names repeatedly on a regular basis, on TV, in gossip magazines, critics lists, etc. And they're mostly new movies, directors, stars, the occasional screenwriter, etc. How can you get familiar with all those really geeky names and titles that separate the players from potzers, and how do you know which ones of those are going to carry weight and which ones will just clutter your head?

Believe it or not, there's a great way to hotwire the process, and in all likelihood, it's happening at a Friday or Saturday midnight show near you, if not this weekend, then sometime this month. You won't need to open a book, just your mind...and maybe your shirt, if you're a first-timer and get collared into a Virgin Sacrifice. That's right, just going to THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW on a regular basis will help you get a leg up on the pile and teach you about some behind-the-scenes technicians in modern film you should be appreciating. And all for less than the cost of one Learning Annex lecture, plus you get to hang around people that have actually had sex.

First off, when the movie starts, you're already getting a roll call of some of the most memorable movies, characters, and talent that shaped so many imaginative minds in their wake. It's a shopping list you don't need to write down because you can sing it to yourself as easily as "A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter." And granted, we're still waiting on a properly restored edition of DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS, but almost everything else Richard O'Brien sings about is easily found on DVD, usually pops up on Turner Classic Movies, and even gets screened every so often in better revival theatres. You can get extra help from watching this video, where one intrepid soul went to the trouble of recreating O'Brien's originally scripted concept of opening the film using film clips instead of red lips:

"Aha, but what about all the audience yelling? Isn't that going to impede whatever constructive information I could receive?" Well, callbacks vary from city to city, but if they're anything like what I learned to shout out when I was fully immersed in the scene, they often actually help draw attention to the guys you oughta know.

Regardez:

"How do you say 'shit' in Polish?"

Peter Suschitzky was the cinematographer for THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK, MARS ATTACKS, and has the distinction of shooting every David Cronenberg film since DEAD RINGERS in 1988. Now that's some shit!

"The editor greamed on Clifford!"

Graeme Clifford apprenticed under the great Robert Altman, doing second-unit work on McCABE AND MRS. MILLER and editing on IMAGES. He also edited two of the most-acclaimed films of cult director Nicolas Roeg, DON'T LOOK NOW and THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH. He went on to become a director himself, helping steer Jessica Lange to her first Academy Award nomination for Best Actress in FRANCES, and immortalizing Christian Slater in skater-punk glory in GLEAMING THE CUBE.

 "Smoke La Roche! Smoke La Roche!"

Pierre La Roche only has a couple cultural credits, but they're pretty big. As makeup artist for David Bowie, he came up with the iconic Ziggy Stardust third eye and lightning bolt look, which, naturally, was immortalized in D.A. Pennebaker's concert document ZIGGY STARDUST AND THE SPIDERS FROM MARS, has been copied and parodied for decades, and is probably being aped on a T-shirt at a Hot Topic franchise. As an actor, he appeared in the film referred to as Canada's version of EASY RIDER, GOIN' DOWN THE ROAD; that may not impress any of your Yank friends, but if you find yourself with a couple Canucks, just start talking to them about how you heard Toronto's got jobs, and watch 'em reply, "JOBS? WHOO-HOO!"

"Fuck the roach! Go for the Snow!"

Terry Ackland-Snow has provided art direction for some of the most indelible movie moments of your adolescence. Three Jim Henson projects (including THE DARK CRYSTAL and LABYRINTH), three D.C. superheroes (SUPERMAN II + III, SUPERGIRL, and BATMAN), and one James Bond outing (THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS). And when Dr. Scott blurts out "ALIENS!" during the boring dinner scene, well, yes, Snow worked on that James Cameron epic as well.

"Look, Ward; it's Wally and the Veevers!"

"And Colin always gives me the Chilvers!"

The late Wally Veevers has the distinction of actually working on two of the movies name-checked in "Science Fiction Double Feature": CURSE OF THE DEMON ("Dana Andrews said prunes gave him the runes...") and DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS ("I really got hot when I saw Janette Scott fight a Triffid..."). He also provided visual effects for Stanley Kubrick in DR. STRANGELOVE and 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, invented some of the photographic trickery for SUPERMAN, did uncredited effects work on LAWRENCE OF ARABIA and Kenneth Anger's LUCIFER RISING, and before his death in 1983, lent his services to two of that year's best films, THE KEEP and LOCAL HERO.

Colin Chilvers, meanwhile, collaborated with Wally Veevers on four other movies, including SUPERMAN (for which he and his team won a Special Achievement Academy Award), and, on his own, was special effects director for SUPERMAN II + III and FOLLOW THAT BIRD, and special effects coordinator for BRIDE OF CHUCKY and the first X-MEN film. 

Oh, and have you ever seen that music video of Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal"? He directed that. From a Sweet T to a Smooth C - that's T.C.B.!

There you go. Now, the next time some Comic-Con cornflake tries to pull rank on you, you can show him who's Boss.

"Wait, that wasn't seven frames!" you say. Okay, fine, so I lied. Guess what, Charles Atlas lied to you too: his real name was Angelo Siciliano. Go call the human race and cry about it, provided you can find a castle with a phone!

By One, Get the One Three

(press play to get the full effect of this opening)

"On June 11th, 2013, Marc Edward Heuck was asked to remove himself from his place of employment. That request came from the corporate office. Deep down, he knew they were right, but he also knew it was a lousy deal after 14 years of service. With few 35mm venues to be found, he looked in on the friends whose dual-projection booths were intact, and sporadically gave them a turn. Can an untimely-job-divorced movie geek subsist in his apartment, without driving himself crazy?"
Yep. It was kinda like that this year, without the Neil Hefti score. My first summer as a free man in Hollywood was an event that was overdue yet still felt undue, but it did yield quite a lot of unique adventure in its wake. It's a most complicated knot of emotions, to have happy opportunity tied up in the hemp strands with frustration and loss, and it's always going to be there even as I theoretically go forth and get wished well in my future endeavors. But to paraphrase Penny Lane, when it gets lonely, you go to the movies and visit your friends. And while I'm not going to join the hype parade suggesting 2013 is another 1939, I gotta say that yet again, this year has had way more good movie experiences than bad ones. I dare say three years into this new decade and there's already an awful lot of bonafide classics stacking up.

A perfect lead-in, thus, for my special Jury Prize of the year: György Pálfi's overwhelming FINAL CUT - LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. Using pieces of 450 different movies and TV shows, it takes the familiar tragectories of the classic stories we've enjoyed on screen - courtship, conflict, and reconciliation - and takes all the many different ways, different faces, different genres that have been used in these endeavors, to demonstrate just how universal this human comedy truly remains. It can't be categorized as merely a clip reel, montage, or mash-up; it's everybody's love story about love AND about the movies. It will likely never get a home video release due to the insane clearances it would require, so if you are passionate about those flickery images on the screen as I am, and are lucky enough to find it in a festival or museum presentation (or, if you must, find it in a darkened lockbox on the internet that can be picked and torrented), let nothing impede you from taking a deep swim in its pool of cinema history.

I'm also throwing in a "Runaway Jury" Prize for my single-most enjoyable off-the-rails movie experience of the year: Tyler Perry's TEMPTATION: CONFESSIONS OF A MARRIAGE COUNSELOR. This is not a movie that was made with any kind of coherence, real-world experience, or understanding of human nature...as they say in the science community, it's not even wrong. But dammit, I went to see this THREE TIMES because no other movie could match it for sheer Martian entertainment value. It's like watching a Skinemax erotic thriller written and directed by a teenager at a Christian youth retreat who didn't actually get to see one, but had one described to him by an uncle who watched the scrambled signal from an old ON-TV converter box: you can't hate the sinner because he obviously has no idea what the sin is in the first place!

And seeing as how movies are my church, let's start with some indulgences.

Ten worthwhile films nobody saw but me:

A.C.O.D.

Aftershock
A Band Called Death

Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me
From the Head

Gimme the Loot

Paradise

Sightseers

The Silence

The We and The I

And with that out of the way, let us begin the Stations of the Crosscut: the Top 13 of 2013

13. FURIOUS 6

12. THIS IS THE END

11. FRUITVALE STATION

10. THE PAST

9. NEBRASKA

8. THE WOLF OF WALL STREET

7. HER

6. THE ACT OF KILLING

5. BEFORE MIDNIGHT

4. THE WORLD'S END

3. FRANCES HA

2. 12 YEARS A SLAVE

1. GRAVITY

On a sadly somber note, I would like to dedicate this post to Jen Roach, a longtime friendly eager face that for years could be found at the New Beverly Cinema supporting all manner of screenings, be they high art, low comedy, or deep horror. Her visits became more infrequent in the last couple years, mostly due to raising a son, but also, unbeknownst to many of us, because of much harsher health problems that shockingly claimed her life this past Monday. She should have had decades worth of family time and return visits ahead of her. One of our other mutual regulars, Cathie Horlick, posted a wonderful memorial at her Tumblr.

When you are a hardcore cinemagoer like myself, you often see the same people at the same venues, and when that happens, they'll either reinforce your sense of community or make you feel even more alone and isolated. Jen fell firmly into the former camp: we rarely socialized outside of the moviehouse, but anytime we were in that darkened auditorium we were family. We can only pray that over time, her seat will be filled with someone else who loves the movies as much and as often as her.

So if and when you watch a movie in company with someone this holiday, give them an extra hug please.

It Is The Octopus That Eats Desperate Men

Much like its tortured protagonist and his journey, it could be said the American remake of the 2003 South Korean revenge epic OLDBOY was doomed from its initiation. While many were dismayed but not surprised when talk first surfaced of an English-language adaption of Chan-wook Park's breakout hit, it was likely a curious moment for those same fans when it was announced that it would be directed by longtime firebrand director Spike Lee. Thus, the already skeptical climate this project would have received under normal circumstances by being a remake became a downright minefield of bad press due to the controversial nature of its artistic captain - some of it rather overblown (the process of finding a name actor to co-star with Josh Brolin, the initial lack of a major studio attachment), some of it quite detrimental (artist Juan Luis Garcia calling out the producers' outright theft of his unpaid advertising prototypes and Lee's curt reply of indifference, likely due to his own displeasure with the producers' editing demands, leading to his removal of his longstanding "Joint" designation and well-known 40 Acres & A Mule logo branding). Its release on the Thanksgiving holiday carried a de facto albatross on its neck by opening on only 583 screens nationwide (compared to 1516 for the family drama BLACK NATIVITY, 2572 for the Jason Statham vehicle HOMEFRONT, and 3742 for Disney's FROZEN), resulting in a total opening gross estimate of just over $1 million, and for being the final release for distributor FilmDistrict, whose management and company apparatus are to be fused into rival distributor Focus Features. In short, almost all observers basically declared this film a failure before it even had its first public screenings this past Tuesday evening.

This write-off on the film, figurative and literal, upsets me not just in principle, but in specific to the merits of the finished work. Let me clearly state upfront that Park's adaptation of the otherwise lesser-known late '90's graphic novel is still the better film: its changes to the manga's storyline, its fevered pace of pursuit, its operatic levels of tragedy...as Roger Ebert wrote in his four-star review, "OLDBOY is a powerful film not because of what it depicts, but because of the depths of the human heart which it strips bare." However, and get your torches and pitchforks ready, I feel this new reinterpretation credited to screenwriter Mark Protosevich is the more interesting tale, even though it does not succeed as well as its predecessor. The majority of reviews that have surfaced for Lee's remake essentially carry the same argument for dismissal, saying that for all purposes, it's a note for note copy of the original. Well, to use the parlance of the jazz music that Lee has long championed, it's the notes between the notes you really need to pay attention to in this film.

Need I say we will be dealing in absolute spoilers for both versions?

What initially put me off while watching the new version was the rather extreme unlikeability of Brolin's protagonist Joe Doucett compared to the careless but otherwise nonthreatening air of Choi Min-sik as Oh Dae-su in the original. Both are alcoholics who behave irresponsibly in public and neglect their young daughters on their birthdays, but Dae-su is just a hapless dope, while Doucett is a raging asshole who gets drunk on the job, sexually harasses his assistant, and screams at his estranged wife. As such, the viewer is almost perversely glad to see Doucett get mysteriously imprisoned and isolated from society while they're shocked at the otherwise random jailing of Dae-su. Moreover, when Doucett is freed after 20 years (he spends an extra 5 years in captivity versus the 15 years Dae-su received, probably an appropriate douchenozzle bonus tax), while he has made positive changes like kicking alcohol, getting in shape, and acknowledging the pain he's caused his daughter, he still often behaves like the entitled jerk that he was before his mysterious imprisonment, while Dae-su, just as violent and driven, has a more sympathetic air during his quest. So I can understand if audiences don't feel as invested in his journey, or take any kind of excitement from his numerous battles with the hired hands that stand in the way of his discovery of the truth; it almost seems as if Lee himself doesn't like him either, leading many to suspect it's his passive-agressive way of declaring disinterest in the material.

However, once we finally meet the antagonist, Adrian Pryce (played by Sharlto Copley), I began to get a better inkling of what Lee was really interested in exploring by agreeing to helm this project. Much like his equivalent Lee Woo-jin (played by Yoo Ji-tae) in the original, Pryce seems to have limitless wealth, and is ready to offer a huge amount of it, along with exoneration for the murder of Doucett's wife previously blamed on him, and most importantly, his own suicide, if Doucett can tell him why he caged him for two decades. In both films, it is revealed that a thoughtless incident of youthful voyeurism and slut-shaming by each protagonist led to the death of the antagonist's sister and his desire for revenge. In Park's original, both boys were in high school, and Dae-su is unaware that Woo-jin and his sister were engaged in an incestuous relationship, or that she committed suicide soon after. In Lee's version, both boys (along with another friend, a character in the original manga but omitted from Park's film) are in a much more elite prep school, and this time Doucett unknowingly witnesses Pryce's sister having sex with their father, a moneyed alumnus. It is also revealed the father molested Pryce as well, and after the family relocates to Sweden in the wake of Doucett's rumormongering, the patriarch commits murder-suicide on the entire household, with Pryce as sole survivor. Of all these horrifying revelations, what is the most striking is that as he describes these circumstances, Pryce almost calmly accepts his father's abuse of himself and his sister as normal and acceptable due to the power and respect he commanded by his wealth. Thus, where previously, Woo-jin seeks revenge on Dae-su out of misplaced emotions for his sister, blaming him for the loss of his true love, Pryce, now living under an alias in the wake of his father's rampage, blames Doucett for the loss of his family name and the influence it had carried. And that was where it all clicked for me.

This adaptation of OLDBOY is not meant to be so much a tragedy about the quest for revenge, but a bitter jeremiad about the ingrained structure of white privilege. It's no accident that Doucett, during his captivity, is rankled at seeing the mocking grin of a black concierge on the sarcastic "hotel service" poster in his cell (which comes to life in a hallucination played by the director's brother Cinque Lee), or that the discovery phase reveals his captors to be almost all minorities (led by Samuel L. Jackson) who are ultimately pawns working in the service of an even more powerful white man in Pryce; these are direct confrontations to his pre-captivity image of himself and the world. Moreover, what little he can glean about the world during his 20 years out of it comes from television, and that's no way to have any kind of realistic education about the reality outside. When he's freed from his cell, he's left inside an archaic steamer trunk in an open park, like the artifact from another time that he both metaphorically and literally is. It's quite telling that Doucett drops a quip about THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO, and not, say, THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION; he doesn't see himself as an innocent man imprisoned, but as an aristocrat dethroned. Even the title gains a different meaning - rather than suggesting the aging of the protagonist in captivity as it did in its original incarnation, "Oldboy" now summons up notions of "the Old Boys Club," entrenched millionaires cackling like Jim Backus and saying things like "Have another martini, old boy!" And, in the icy sociopathy of Pryce, the incestuous nature of dynastic wealth is carried to the harshest possibility. Meanwhile, the two most sympathetic white characters in the film are Chuckie, the former prep school friend of Doucett who has fallen lower on the class ladder but seems much happier with his life, and Marie, a nurse specifically devoted to working with the underprivileged.

Not that this is a completely humorless story, though how much you laugh depends on your own mordant sensibilities. The ongoing references to Doucett's disconnect from modern progress - learning the internet, searching for a Yellow Pages - are effective not just as a tension-breaking aspect of his captivity, but also within the film's theme of affluent men who live in such a bubble they don't know the world has changed around them. While Doucett's surgical flaying of Chaney's neck for information is most gross and horrifying, I must admit I began to imagine this sequence as some sort of subconscious revenge fantasy on actor Jackson by director Lee in regards to the very public fracas over Quentin Tarantino that led to their longtime rift after multiple film collaborations, and chuckled to myself. ("THAT'S for telling Quentin it's okay to use the n-word in his movies! And THAT'S for you saying the n-word all those times in his movies!") And when Pryce reveals that even the television programs Doucett was able to watch in captivity on the ancient TV with the '70's "clicker" remote were often curated or even flat-out faked, my mind was instantly grateful for getting an answer to my wonky question of "How did they get around the analog-to-digital TV transition of 2009?"

A very effective change, in my opinion, is the elimination of post-hypnotic triggering that was a significant element in Park's film, for though it was very effective in bolstering the classical allusions of a hero and heroine unaware of their manipulation or their fate in that film, in this outing, it would have played like a convenient excuse, because Lee and Protosevich insist on Doucett taking responsibility for his bad choices pre-imprisonment, so it is only right that the all-too-predictable manner in which an Alpha male like him would solve his dilemma should create his ultimate downfall. The way in which Pryce has manipulated the lives of Doucett and Marie make hyponsis unnecessary - he has already planted the seeds by depriving one of human touch or kindness, and reinforcing a combination Florence Nightingale/daddy dependence in the other. For those who complain that how would Pryce know that they would fulfill the needs of his master plan, well that's easy: simple human nature. The impulse to help a rattled stranger with severe injuries, a quest for justice, trauma from unexplained attacks. And, of course, having enough money that if the scenario isn't playing as speedily as you would like, contriving some other details in your favor. (Fascinating that, for a story that is often remembered for a man devouring an octopus, few notice that it is the tentacles of a billionaire that, in effect, devours that man.) More important, what previously offered Doucett any sense of advantage over Pryce or his family, whom he didn't even realize existed during his brief interaction with them, were the choices he made, be it to tease and expose their daughter, or to piss away his oppotunities by his alcoholism, or his casual unappreciation of his own family. And Pryce wants to drive home what another ruthless billionaire once opined, that "most people never have to face the fact that at the right time and the right place, they're capable of anything." Taking advantage of the fact that Doucett has lost 20 years of his life, but he still thinks that he can throw enough punches or dollars at the situation to get to the truth, Pryce lays out a series of moments where he could have done something differently, but chose not to. He could have taken the money that was left in the wallet and fled town, but instead he chased the girl with the yellow parasol and met Marie. He could have called the police on Chaney's bizarre prison/hotel when he found it, but instead he went on a hammer rampage. And he could have politely rebuffed Marie's advances in that hotel room, but instead he gave into his base impulses. As another movie about the framing of a guilty man observed, "Hell is the time you should have walked, but you didn't." Doucett has been manipulated by a man deranged, but he cannot take solace in being forced into bad choices under hypnosis like Dae-su; he made them clean and sober.

And the last major change this movie features from its Korean predecessor that, for me, makes it more interesting (if, keep in mind, not necessarily better), is its resolution. Park's OLDBOY, after the last heartbreaking revelation and the suicide of his enemy, leaves Dae-su self-amputating his tongue and seeking the same hypnotist who induced his fateful triggers to help suppress the memories of the experience, with a reunion between himself and young Mi-do leaving ambiguity as to whether the maneuver was effective. In Lee's telling, after his enemy's death, Doucett uses the significant fortune promised to him by Pryce to pay Cheney to allow him to return to his previous captivity, along with a financial provision for Marie, who will be spared the truth of their connection, but will never see him again. In the wake of everything he has learned about Pryce and about himself, Doucett has determined that he has no place in this society or in the life of Marie, and chooses to spend the remainder of his days isolated from it all, in the hope that things will get better by his absence. In effect, in contrast to Pryce, whose very name suggested all could be bought and controlled, Doucett is finally living in the peaceful gentility his name origin suggests. I can't say if this means that Lee's final statement on rich old white men is to spread the wealth among those who need it (working class, charities, etc) and then get the hell out of the way, but in the case of this one man, he has finally done one deed that, as director, Lee does respect and admire, and believe will finally bring him redemption after a lifetime of near unforgivable acts.

Spike Lee's OLDBOY does not and will never trump, transcend, or escape the shadow of Chan-wook Park's OLDBOY in the manner that, say, John Huston's THE MALTESE FALCON supplanted Roy Del Ruth's earlier production. However, as a stand-alone movie, as a different reading of a familiar story, and as a unit (if not a full-on "joint") of Lee's large body of work, it's a compelling film with something to say, even if for now, nobody wants to listen. I hope it doesn't take 20 years for it to find a hospitable audience.

Sad Song on the Fourble Board

This past Tuesday, I performed two otherwise completely unrelated activities. I bought a CD of a legendary rock album, and I listened to a classic episode of an old time radio scary story. And in the middle of the night, I pondered on the spiritual link between them...

Most recently brought to light by a tweet from Patton Oswalt, "The Thing on the Fourble Board" from the series QUIET PLEASE is ranked alongside Orson Welles' adaptation of "The War of the Worlds," the "Sorry, Wrong Number" episode of SUSPENSE, and the "Chicken Heart" episode of LIGHTS OUT as one of the scariest, creepiest radio broadcasts ever performed. And after taking a listen to it at, oh, around 2:37 a.m. after a tumbler of Old Crow, I too was finding myself rattled by ordinary house noises as I attempted to go to sleep soon after. Like many who discover the tale, I'm loath to go into details until the reader/listener themselves have had a chance to experience it themselves. So set the reading aside for a half hour and listen to this, okay? I'll wait.

(or, if you'd rather listen on a uZuny or whatever device, you can download here)

Did you listen? Good. Are you rattled? It'll be okay. Let's talk it out.

On a surface level, this episode is effective because of the deceptively dry, matter of fact manner in which the narrator lays out what seem like tedious details of his life and job - his unattentive wife, how drill bits work, the length of oil pipe - and then applies that exact same ordinary tone to the ickier reveals he has in store for us, his unspoken houseguests. It's a narrative device that rarely fails, whether used to unnerve, as when Shirley Jackson states "Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones," or to amuse, as when Donald Barthelme opines "I also thought four hundred dollars for a [gallows], on top of the expense for the drinks, invitations, musicians, and everything, was a bit steep..."

But what I think really seals the deal for those who have embraced this story is the peculiar mix of abject horror and empathetic love the narrator develops and expresses for the titular creature whom he refashions into a wife...how, despite claiming the lives of his friends, nearly costing him his own freedom during police investigation, and its possessing a body that previously existed only in his nightmares, he is stricken with pity at its predicament in a world it has never known, of being maimed itself by a threat it never experienced, and sees humanity in its visage. This narration is punctuated by equally scary yet poignant wails from versatile voice actress Cecil Roy.

It stood there dripping with red paint, blood-red from head to foot, like some horrible dream. And it put its hand on my arm. Its hand was stone. Living, moving stone. And it looked into my eyes. And mewed like a lost kitten...I discovered many things about it...it was invisible and couldn't see people when it was invisible; that if you sprayed it with mud or paint or greasepaint -- make-up -- then it could see people. And, believe me, I didn't want to see its body -- I can see that in my nightmares. But its face...I can't help wanting to see that pathetic, little girl face. I'm afraid maybe I've fallen-- Ah, but it's very beautiful. And when it's well made-up, it's...But making it up, rubbing greasepaint on a stone face that looks at ya and smiles and it makes sounds like a lost kitten yet. I can disguise the body in long dresses. She can’t hear very well and when she’s hungry, I have to stay out of her way. 

The album I picked up hours earlier that evening also involves a narrator dryly observing and accepting sordid behavior from a female partner and himself. One of the tracks even features similarly jarring cries of lost children.

They're taking her children away

Because they said she was not a good mother

They're taking her children away

Because of the things that they heard she had done

The black Air Force sergeant was not the first one

And all of the drugs she took, every one, every one

And I am the Water Boy, the real game's not over here

But my heart is overflowin' anyway

I'm just a tired man, no words to say

But since she lost her daughter

It's her eyes that fill with water

And I am much happier this way

The recently departed Lou Reed released BERLIN in 1973, his third solo album after the breakup of the Velvet Underground and the success of his previous record TRANSFORMER, which yielded his sole Top 40 hit, "Walk on the Wild Side." Conceived as a song cycle, it tells a bleak story of a quickly curdling relationship between two drug addicts in the decadent city, where mutual abuse and infidelity lead to tragedy and icy resignation. Even for fans of Reed at the time, who were well-versed in songs like "Heroin" and "Waiting for the Man" depicting all manner of outré living, and likely well aware of his participation in such activity in real life, this album initially proved too dark to embrace. It received poor reviews, and was considered such a disappointment that for years, Reed never performed the album in full; it was only in 2006 that he revisited it for a series of concerts staged and filmed by painter/filmmaker Julian Schnabel, by which time its reputation had so improved it was listed at #344 on Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time.

While BERLIN is not a horror story in the conventional sense of what most would say the term suggests, it offers up an interesting convergence to the earlier tale of monstrous embrace from the radio days. What is scary about both situations are the depictions of someone not so far removed from ourselves to willingly be suborned into heinous acts in the name of misplaced affections, be they an oil-rigger luring human food to his mate, or a failed dilettante passively watching his lover prostitute herself to get them more drugs. Also scarily real, the relatability of how unhealthily co-dependent these relationships are to their storytellers -- the narrator of "Thing" likes the face of the creature, but not much else about her, and for all his pity, does likely enjoy being in a position of power as its caregiver, much like meth addict Jim expresses how happier he is to not be burdened with Caroline's children, leaving her to turn her attention fully on him. They are both Water Boys tendering and enabling wounded yet destructive lovers.

The thing on the fourble board lost a finger.

Of Caroline, "Somebody else would have broken both of her arms."

As such, this radio drama and this musical drama are effective kindred, tapping into our fears of how susceptible we could be to doing and accepting bad things for what seemed like rational reasons, and our skill at putting aside our consciences to live with the evil we've done. And consuming each of them for the first time on an ordinary Tuesday made an extraordinary impact for me. Do I recommend this caustic cocktail for yourselves? If you're ready to appreciate the beauty of bummer endings, by all means. Just keep a night light and a white noise machine at the ready if the quiet is too much to bear.

If you don't have a white noise machine, METAL MACHINE MUSIC will do.

We'll Sing for the Sunshine

You have easily noticed that this blog has been very dormant for the sunnier months of this year, and not exactly jumping during the cold season either. So it was to my great and humbled surprise that despite my crumbling lack of inspiration sporadic updating, I was bestowed this blogging award by Dusty McGowan at Playground of Doom. Between this prize, and the hundreds (or at least tens) of you new readers I am enjoying today thanks to Patton Oswalt's generous retweeting of my THE PHYNX essay (putting him with Edgar Wright in the "Folks I Owe a Steak Dinner" Club), it's a good reminder of why coming back to this parcel of virtual estate is always vital.

As always, with great accolades comes great responsibilities, so here are the rules:

1.) Include the award’s logo in a post or on your blog.
2.) Link to the person who nominated you.
3.) Answer 10 questions about yourself (use these or come up with your own).
4.) Nominate 10 bloggers to pass the award on to.  (This is as much about sharing as it is about receiving.)
5.) Link your nominees to the post and comment on their blogs, letting them know they have been nominated.

1.) Favorite actor/actress who's not a household name yet?

One of the best performances I saw in 2011 by any actor, let alone one under the age of being allowed to rent a car, was Jacob Wysocki in TERRI, playing an overweight teenager who is surprisingly at ease with the manner in which he stands apart from others in his school, capable of both offering exceeding amounts of empathy and compassion while trying hard to downplay his own needs for the same kind of treatment. Just when you think you can peg his "type," he throws a curve. I've never forgotten that debut. He's also got a very funny Twitter feed, his comedy work outside of film is great (I loved his "BREAKING BAD Pizza Delivery Prank" video) - I'm looking forward to future instances of his versatility.

Actress-wise, there's a few to pick from, but I'll give the ink to Amanda Bauer. In 2011's wonderful THE MYTH OF THE AMERICAN SLEEPOVER, amid a sea of intriguing first-time faces and overlapping stories, hers had the heaviest emotional and dramatic arc to carry, and stood out from the pack. Her one appearance on "MAD MEN" shows she's already capable of playing in the sandbox with established names.

2) Favorite animal

A study in contrast. I personally identify with dogs because of their loyalty and eagerness to play; I even grew my hair long because I always felt it made me look more like a large friendly pet, whereas the few times it was shaven, short, or pulled back, I would look like a menacing thug from a Leo Fong movie. That being said, I tend to prefer the company of cats; like to hold and pet them, hear their noises and mewlings. Realistically, I do a barely passable job of taking care of my own self, so I think I'm doing the animal kingdom a favor by not being entrusted with the life, feeding, and well-being of any domesticated creature.

3) Favorite Non-Alcoholic Drink?

I try to drink as much unsweetened iced tea as possible. When that's not available, usually diet cola. But what I really love - Moxie!

4) Favorite music?

I'm pretty much an omnivore, but I would say that my two strongest faves are power pop and doo-wop. The latter for it's eloquent simplicity and honesty - three-to-five guys with amazing harmony with just perhaps a bass or piano to back them up. Strip away the Velveeta stereotyping of  '50's culture and listen to the purity of The Moonglows "Sincerely" or the cold schadenfreude of The Velvetones "Glory of Love", and you might get it. Or, just listen to Art LaBoe's nightly dedication show, and in that standard mix of slow jams and lite rock, you will almost always hear some East Side homegirls in their '20's eagerly asking for a song their parents weren't even alive for the first time, Rosie and the Originals' "Angel Baby." (Branching further into general '50's-'60's soul, I was once asked what possessions I would retrieve in a fire, and the first reply was my Atlantic Rhythm & Blues '47-'74 box set) As for the latter, solid hooks and catchy lyrics will always put me in a better place. Lonely nights are made bearable by Badfinger, sunny days are made sunnier by Electric Light Orchestra, and I never travel far without a little Big Star.

Besides, anybody who doesn't like Cheap Trick just plain doesn't like fun.

By the way, did you notice that album by Chris Price I keep advertising off to the side of this blog? It's there for a reason. Buy a copy and listen to it, you'll understand why.

5) Favorite TV show?

In his questionnaire (within which I received his blessing), Dusty already picked "THE TWILIGHT ZONE," and since I don't like to be too immediately repetitive, I'm going to go with "HOMICIDE: LIFE ON THE STREET." A crime drama in only the strictest of TV Guide genre listings, this was possibly the greatest ongoing drama of souls trying to achieve nobility and avoid being haunted that ever survived the grinding obstacles of network television and its limitations. No matter how many ways people tried to screw up the show - changing time slots, demanding "prettier" co-stars, doing cross-overs with the more simplistic "LAW & ORDER" - every week this show delivered unique characters with rich lives beyond the office. "THE WIRE" may have the better Dickensian element, "BREAKING BAD" the better narrative evolution, insert whatever cable series you like here with your reason why it's tops. But I promise you none of those shows could have gotten past development were it not for what took place on location in Baltimore for eight seasons in the '90's, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you like you're Montel Williams.

6) Favorite sport

Honestly, my vast knowledge of useless minutiae takes up all the room that would normally be occupied by sports and the statistics therein. I will say there is always that first spurt of the fall when I follow the progress of my high school, college, and hometown football teams before I get diverted by the Oscar bait. I also take a particular pride in being in the stands for the infamous "Four Corners/24-11" game between the UC Bearcats and UK Wildcats basketball teams, the game that cemented the future of the shot clock. Look, if you're throwing a Super Bowl party or going to a sports bar, what the hell, I'll come join you. I just wish you could demonstrate the same participatory fellowship when I try coaxing you to join me for the Mods & Rockers fest at the American Cinematheque.

Oh yeah, I do really enjoy pro wrestling. But Vince McMahon insists on calling it "sports entertainment," so I guess technically that doesn't count.

7) Movie most people love that I dislike

JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS. I know I know, I sound like the kind of sourpuss that would hate Cheap Trick earlier in this piece, but this film is one of the most egregious examples of snark over substance I've ever suffered through. Rather than, you know, actually try and bring life to these beloved characters, the creative team showed their contempt for the whole franchise by shoving them into toothless commentary about corporate influences in pop music, demonstrating how better they were than to just do another cartoon adaptation, even trying to turn their lack of enthusiasm into a "meta" joke by having one character justify her inactive presence in the story because "I'm in the comic book." SEE??? WE COULDN'T THINK OF ANYTHING INTERESTING TO DO WITH A PIVOTAL ANTAGONIST FROM EVERY EPISODE OF THE SERIES, SO WE'LL JUST GET A LAUGH ABOUT HOW LAZY WE ARE!!! AREN'T WE SO BLOODY CLEVER??? IRONY!!! SATIRE!!!

8) Favorite short film

It's GRRAAAAAAA-VI-TY!



9) My passion (other than entertainment)

Preservation. Sure, that can be tied to my love of film, but it goes past that to other things, like classic buildings and architecture, letters, photographs, clothing styles, all totems of the past. I don't revel in ancient items as some form of Luddite rebellion - I love the advances of our new century - I simply feel that to truly appreciate all the wonder and potential of the world and our inventions within is to have that history within our easy grasp. As was written by Stephen Zaillian to be fictionally said by John Q. Adams in AMISTAD, "Who we are is who we were."

10) Favorite soundtrack from 2013

Tough call. I've just seen THE WORLD'S END, which has a terrific and smartly-arranged song score, as every Edgar Wright movie has featured, so I'll likely buy that CD very soon. Then there's the soundtrack to BIG STAR: NOTHING CAN HURT ME, which has entirely different takes and mixes of songs I thought I knew inside out, so it's like finding old family photos you didn't know existed; however that's just part and parcel of any good documentary thus I feel it's too on the nose to choose. Lots of other movies featured songs I liked, but I've yet been madly driven by any of them to buy that album right away, so those don't quite count either.

Let me try a variation here. Earlier this year, the aforementioned Mr. Price, my frequent moviegoing companion, sifted through his massive and eclectic CD collection, found a number of duplicate albums, and gave them to me en masse. So I took a long journey through some really great music that I'd never had real opportunity to explore before. That then spurred me on to go on a spree of sorts - I've likely bought more CDs this year than I previously did in the last five. Most of it older stuff that I'd missed the first time, but some new material too. As such, I guess I'd have to say The Soundtrack of My Life is my favorite of this year. And that track listing would look a little like this:

Judee Sill - "The Kiss"
The Kinks - " Situation Vacant"
John Martyn - "I'd Rather Be the Devil"
Emitt Rhodes - "You're a Golden Child of God"
Linda Perhacs - "Paper Mountain Man"
Asia Argento - "Cheese and Eggs"
Sloan - "Money City Maniacs"
Lisa Mychols - "Don't Give Up On Us"
Secrets* - "Daddy's Girl"
Bleu - "To Hell With You"
Alex Chilton - "All We Ever Got From Them Was Pain"

And buying music means I'm spending time in record stores again, thus another exercise in preservation.


So this is where I pass this award along, hoping that you will visit these blogs if you have not already, and that perhaps the proprietors will also engage in the show and tell I've offered. Everything is voluntary.

My choices:

I've crowed before about the enormous intelligence of archivist/author/all-around asskicker Ariel Schudson, and her Sinamatic Salve-ation blog, and I'm going to keep crowing about her;

Next to my other former "BEAT THE GEEKS" dais companion Paul Goebel, nobody loves TV more than Amanda Reyes. And her Made For TV Mayhem blog will give you really unique thoughts about all those MOW's, mini-series, and Lifetime Movies for Women, that you didn't know you were missing;

And nobody loves horror with the wit and ferocity of Stacie Ponder, and Final Girl is a testament to why she's stays standing in this field for so long;

You'll find plenty of sites devoted to cult movies and strangeness, but you will not find those reviews so neatly sub-categorized and ingeniously dissected as you will by the delectable Yum Yum at the House of Self-Indulgence;

You will also be dumbfounded at the amazing oddities of exploitation film material - obscure newspaper ads, alternate campaigns, pressbooks, and the movies themselves - that Chris Poggiali manages to unearth in his Temple of Schlock;

And the simple mandate of Brandon L. Summers - reviewing films with less than 100 votes at the IMDb - makes his Film Obscurities irresistible to me;

Almost every entertainment website tries to lure you with lists, but none offer the deep focus and sprawling variety of voices as Brian Saur shepherds at Rupert Pupkin Speaks. Aside from my year and decade breakdowns, I've always saved my listical pursuits for his presentation, and he's always received them with pleasure;

One of the first blogs I began to regularly follow before I even started my own here was Steven Thompson's Booksteve's Library. Mostly an excellent resource for literary pursuits both written and graphic, he also shines a light on hard-to-see films, TV, and other cultural curiosities;

If you enjoyed my "random tangent" review of Tyler Perry's TEMPTATION from a few months back, I have to acknowledge a little bit of inspiration came from the terrific stream-of-consciousness essays by Thomas Duke at his wild Cinema Gonzo site;

And finally, picking up on odd patterns during film periods, musing of beloved studio logos, and remembering truly great motion picture poster art are among the reasons Ned Merrill's Obscure One Sheet is special to me;


There they are: read, follow, or get out of the way.