Friday, February 26, 2010

THE BUG THAT CONQUERED AMERICA




February 26 . . .

On this day in 1936, automotive history took a giant leap forward with a very small car: the Volkswagon hit the roads, changing the face of American driving forever. It soon became a staple mode of transportation in Europe, and when it was imported to the U.S., the ubiquitous ‘Bug’ soon became a beloved icon and an affordable means of transport, particularly among younger people who enjoyed an alternative to the boxy sedans of the day. In the early 1960s, a series of brilliant TV commercials spotlighted its unique properties; one classic spot shows a very young and befuddled Dustin Hoffman searching in vain for the engine.

Celebrate the unveiling of a cultural icon with Woody Allen’s futuristic comedy, ‘Sleeper’ (1973). Allen plays a jazz musician who is cryogenically frozen and awakes 200 years in the future. ‘Sleeper’ may be Allen’s most out-and-out funniest film. He joins with underground rebel Diane Keaton to overthrow the fascist government, discovering the joys of the ‘orgasmatron’ along the way.

What has all this got to do with Volkswagons, you ask? Not much, really – but there is one gag that is probably the best endorsement the VW Beetle ever had. I won’t spoil it; just enjoy. And if you still can’t get enough, watch Disney’s perennial family favorite ‘The Love Bug’ (1964), about a talking VW named Herbie. It was so successful it actually spawned a series of sequels. They can drive you buggy.
Since I don't want to spoil the 'Sleeper' joke, here's a rare alternative . . click here to see Dustin Hoffman hawking a VW sedan in a TV commercial from 1966 . . .

Thursday, February 25, 2010

A REEL LADY KILLER





February 25 . . .

His real name was Henri Landru, but the public knew him as Bluebeard. He made his living in France by placing ads in the paper saying, “Widower with comfortable income desires to meet widow with a view to matrimony.” At least he believed in truth in advertising.

Over 300 well-to-do spinsters replied, and between 1915 and 1919 he murdered ten of his newly acquired wives and burned their bodies in his stove. Today is the anniversary of his execution by guillotine in 1922.

There have been many films inspired by his nasty deeds, including Edgar G. Ulmer’s masterful low-budget B-movie, ‘Bluebeard’ (1944), with an unusually subdued and effective John Carradine as the lady-killer. But the best homage came from Charlie Chaplin, of all people, in ‘Monsieur Verdoux’ (1947). This decidedly black comedy pretty much helped destroy Chaplin’s career in America. In ‘Verdoux’, fans of the Little Tramp were shocked to see Chaplin as a suave and calculating killer. It didn’t help that at the time the film was released Chaplin was in the middle of a scandalous paternity suit brought by actress Joan Barry, and under attack for his leftist political views. And his pacifist moralizing (“Mass murdering – does not the world condone it? I am an amateur by comparison. Numbers sanctify!”) stood in problematic contrast to the slapstick sequences.

‘Monsieur Verdoux’ was originally proposed to Chaplin by Orson Welles, who was slated to direct until the always autocratic Chaplin decided to handle it himself. Although the direction is stagey and cumbersome, and the script long-winded as Chicago in April, ‘Monsieur Verdoux’ is a revolutionary, truly subversive movie, daring and often brilliantly, bleakly funny. Martha Raye steals the film whenever she’s on-screen as the clutzy and brassy Annabella, a potential victim who simply refuses to die. She actually funnier than Chaplin, and that’s saying a lot.

Click here to watch a clip from ‘Monsieur Verdoux’ . . .

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

MY SWEET GEORGE





February 24 . . .

When asked for the 200th time about the possibility of a Beatles reunion, George Harrison once deadpanned, “There will be no Beatles reunion so long as John Lennon remains dead.”

On the same subject – reuniting the Beatles – he observed, “You can’t reheat a soufflé.”

John Lennon was given all the credit for being clever, but George could deliver a great dry witticism himself. Happy birthday today to George Hilton Harrison, born this day in 1943 in – where else? – Liverpool.

During George’s lifetime, he received adoration but not respect – not even from his bandmates. Harrison had to fight to get his songs recorded by the Beatles, and his early efforts (‘Don’t Bother Me’, ‘Think For Yourself’) were simplistic and taciturn. But he kept plugging away, and by the time the group recorded its swansong, Abbey Road, Harrison walked off with top honors for ‘Something’ and ‘Here Comes The Sun’. His solo album, All Things Must Pass, was arguably the single greatest solo project by any of the former fabs.

While not as well-known as his music, George Harrison’s cinematic contributions were substantial. He produced such iconic films as ‘Withnail and I’ and ‘Monty Python’s Life of Brian’ (where he contributes a nifty cameo.) And his ‘Concert for Bangla Desh’ became the gold standard for charitable music concerts.

His best moment on camera was his earliest, in the classic ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ (1964). His solo scene with a stuffy marketing professional midway through the film is classic. He manages to skewer pomp and arrogance while seemingly appearing naïve and innocent – a tricky juggling act. Not to mention his coining of the phrase ‘dead grotty.’

Check out this clip from ‘The Concert for Bangla Desh’ . . .

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

TAKE THAT, YANKEE DOG!!


February 23 . . .


On this date in 1942, soon after the U.S. had entered WWII, the small coastal hamlet of Santa Barbara, California, was invaded by the Japanese navy. And all because of a cactus.

Well, not exactly. A Richfield Oil Company refinery was shelled by one lone Japanese submarine just offshore this night in 1942. Very little damage was done and no one injured. It turned out the commander of the submarine, Kizo Nishino, had worked at that very refinery years earlier as a tanker captain, and had slipped and fallen on a cactus plant, much to the amusement and teasing of his coworkers. Captain Nishino had a short sense of humor and a long memory. He vowed revenge one day. And on this day, he got it . . .

But the incident, amusing as it was, understandably scared nearby residents and the rest of California. Years later, Steven Spielberg ran with the incident in his box office bomb, '1941' (1979).

Spielberg took the event, tweaked it with an anything-goes script by Robert Zemeckis, moved the locale down the coast about 50 miles to Los Angeles, and hired a massive cast including Dan Ackroyd, John Belushi, Warren Oates, Christopher Lee and Treat Williams.

The result was Spielberg's biggest bomb ever, so critically lambasted that few people bothered to make the trip to theaters. Seen today, it's still far from Spielberg's finest hour, but it has its clunky charms, not the least of which is Belushi's mad-dog samurai pilot.

How does it hold up? Judge for yourself . . click here to see the trailer . . .

Monday, February 22, 2010

BUY GEORGE


February 22 . . .


The Father of Our Country, George Washington, was born this day in 1732 in Virginia.

I cannot tell a lie: For someone with such an imposing title as "Father of Our Country", and the distinction of being first President of the United States, old George wasn't the hottest of film properties. Lincoln gets the John Ford treatment, Jefferson gets the juicy sex scandals,l but Washington . . . well, aside from a wooden-toothed TV miniseries starring Barry Bostwick and a token appearance in the musical '1776', Washington's film legacy is negligible.

But don't be disuaded. Celebrate his birthday with the delightful vintage comedy "George Washington Slept Here" (1942). Jack Benny stars in one of his best film roles as a city-loving husband whose wife (Anne Sheridan) buys an old colonial home in the country. The selling point: George Washington once slept there. The bad news: Nobody's been there since, and the place is falling apart. Benny delivers his one-liners with his typical great timing, and his interplay with the eccentric locals is priceless. The movie served as the template for such future rural comedies as "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House" with Cary Grant, and the TV series 'Green Acres'.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

A VOICE SILENCED






"Power never takes a back step - only in the face of more power."
- Malcolm X


February 21 . . .
While standing to deliver a speech at the Audubon Ballroom in Harlem this day in 1965, African-American activist and leader Malcolm X was assasinated by several Black Muslim extremists who were angered by Malcom's recent decision to defect from the Nation of Islam. Or so the official story goes. Many, to this day, have unanswered questions surrounding the murder.
As both a man and an icon, Malcolm X remains a cultural lightning rod and an enigma of contradictions - angry militant, enlightened prophet, uptown pimp, religious radical, petty criminal, galvanizing orator and dedicated family man.

Spike Lee was the ideal director to tell his story in the impressive bio-pic 'Malcolm X' (1992). Denzel Washington delivers an incendiary performance as the charismatic Malcolm - ever evolving, compassionate, angry, self-righteous, militant. From his zoot-suited pimping days in Harlem in the 1940s to his imprisonment, where he first became converted to the Islamic faith, to his rise as a disciple of Elijah Muhammad, the Supreme Leader of the Nation of Islam, to his life-changing pilgramage to Mecca, Lee's film intelligently examines the life of one of the 20th Century's most charismatic and volatile leaders. Lee admirably restrains himself from his usually showy style, flawlessly integrating the various phases of Malcolm's often contradictory life into a cohesive whole. A magnificent accomplishment all around.
Click here to see the original trailer . . . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbKs766Tr88

Friday, February 19, 2010

SHOOT A LITTLE POOL WITH THE GREATEST





February 20 . . .


No less an authority than Orson Welles dubbed Jackie Gleason “The Greatest”. Whether he was talking about his talent or his appetite is anybody’s guess.

Jackie Gleason was born this day in 1916 in Brooklyn, in a tough neighborhood. He father abandoned his family when Jackie was 8, and his mother died when he was 16. Hanging out in pool halls and bars, Gleason well understood the lives of the poor working stiffs who talked big and dreamed big but would never break out of their humdrum jobs. He drew on these memories when he created one of the most endearing and enduring comedic characters in TV history: Blustery bus driver Ralph Kramden of The Honeymooners.

Gleason made his mark in television, but he had a long history with the movies. He was a contract player for Warners in the late 1940s, playing supporting roles, including a small part with Bogart in ‘All Through the Night’ (1942). But Hollywood didn’t really know what to do with his oversize, boisterous talents.

After he had established himself as a huge TV star in the 50s, he took Hollywood on his own terms and delivered fine performances in films like 'Soldier In The Rain' (1963, with Steve McQueen) ‘Requiem for a Heavyweight’ (1962), ‘Papa’s Delicate Condition’ (1963), and ‘Gigot’ (1962), which he also wrote. But Gleason was never better than in ‘The Hustler’ (1961).

Paul Newman stars as ‘Fast’ Eddie Felson, a hotshot pool hustler who is hungry to beat the best – and the best is Gleason as Minnesota Fats. Their marathon showdown midway through the film is so drenched in atmosphere you can almost smell the sweat and burnt coffee. Newman overacts (a rare occurance for him), but Gleason is magnificent and understated – elegant, confident, and every inch the champion. Gleason obviously drew from his youth in this mesmerizing portrait of a king who rules a shadowy and seedy kingdom. A masterful character study, moody, dark, and on the money. Six ball, corner pocket.

RALLY ‘ROUND THE FLAG




February 19 . . .




On this day in 1945, on a small island 650 miles from Tokyo, 30,000 Marines landed on the Japanese-occupied island of Iwo Jima in the Pacific. In the battle that followed, the Japanese were nearly decimated and Americans lost over two-thirds of their troops. After weeks of bloody fighting and staggering losses, the Marines finally took control of Mt. Suribachi. Four Marines raised the American flag, and AP photographer Joe Rosenthal snapped a photo that would become nearly mythic in its evocation of solidarity, teamwork and bravery. Rosenthal later admitted the photo had been staged.

The same could be said of John Wayne’s career as the quintessential, tough all-American soldier: It was pretty much staged. Contrary to popular opinion, John Wayne did not personally win World War II. He didn’t even fight in it. Unlike fellow Hollywood stars like Jimmy Stewart, Glenn Ford and Clark Gable, the Duke managed to avoid serving in the armed forces, preferring to do his patriotic duty on the comfy sound stages of Hollywood. Some say he did more for American morale by staying home; that’s one back-handed compliment to his abilities as an actor.

‘Sands of Iwo Jima’ (1949) is vintage Wayne (the film earned him his first Oscar nomination) and vintage WWII-era propaganda. As tough Marine Sgt. Stryker, Wayne is not one of the soldiers who raises the flag – he gets killed by a sniper’s bullet before it goes up, just as he’s lighting up a victory cigarette (and they said smoking those things wouldn’t kill you . . )

‘Sands of Iwo Jima’ is one of those quintessential pieces of patriotic agit-prop movies where all the ‘Japs’ are cartoon villains and all the American soldiers are straight and upright. It’s still undeniably entertaining in a simplistic, manipulative way – and a lesson in negative typecasting that should not be forgotten or forgiven. Directed by silent film veteran Alan Dwan.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

ROLLIN’ DOWN THE RIVER


February 18 . . .



Generally acknowledged to be the quintessential Great American Novel, Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn first rolled off the printer’s press on this day in 1885.

The free-wheeling satirical story of a young Orphan on the run from the law on the Mississippi has been filmed countless times, but the best version may well be MGM’s ‘The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ (1939), starring quintessential Peck’s-bad-boy Mickey Rooney as the precocious runaway who takes off on a raft down the Mississippi River, accompanied by his best friend and protector, the runaway slave Jim (Walter Connelly.) Rooney was at the peak of his popularity – in fact, he was the most popular star in America at that point in time – and MGM spared no expense in the prestigious adaptation.

The film is largely forgotten today – perhaps because the competition at the time was so formidable. 1939 is often cited as the Greatest Year Ever for American films – and perhaps Huck just got lost in the shuffle. Still, the film constitutes great family entertainment. And yes, that's William Frawley - aka Fred Mertz - as 'The Duke.'
Click here to enjoy a clip . . .

And feel free to smoke a corncob pipe while you’re watching.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A WARRIOR AT PEACE




February 17 . . .

“I cannot think we are useless or God would not have created us. We are all the children of one God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have to say.”


- Geronimo


He became famous and feared as an Apache warrior and leader, and to this day his name evokes passion, strength and respect. Born in what is now western New Mexico in 1829, he acquired a reputation as a fearless warrior after he returned home from a trading excursion into Mexico in 1858 and found his wife and three children murdered by white soldiers. He vowed to kill as many white men as he could, and from that day he was driven and guided by a series of visions. He believed he was impervious to bullets. For fifty years he fought brilliantly against the white man; at one point over one-quarter of the entire U.S. army was assigned to track him down, but he avoided capture for years. He was the last Native American leader to effectively defy the government’s attempts to take the Indians from their rightful land.

He spent his final days as a lion in winter – an old fighter tamed and subjugated by the government that he had so effectively battled years before, charging a dollar to pose for photographs with visitors, tourists, and dignitaries, until he died this day at the ripe old age of 80.

He was right all along. He had indeed been immune to bullets.

Relive his glory days as the most revered and feared Apache warrior of all time in ‘Geronimo: An American Legend’ (1993). In one of his most restrained and cohesive films, director Walter hill paints a vivid and haunting portrait of the fighter and his tempestuous times. Wes Studi, as Geronimo, delivers a solid, layered performance, but the real star of the film is Jason Patric as the cavaryman who is used as a liason between Geronimo and the whites. Far from your typical cavary vs. Indians shoot-‘em-up, Hill’s memorable movie is a mournful keen, and sad and instructive history lesson. Gene Hackman and Robert Duvall lend stellar supporting turns.
Click here to see a clip . . .

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

A SONNY DAY






February 16 . . .

A SONNY DAY


Let us now pause to praise those born with negligible talents and no particular genius, but blessed with a surplus of pluck, tenacity, ambition, timing and dumb luck – striving and working their way to . . well, mediocrity.

Salvatore Bono – called Sonny by his loving mum – was born this day in Detroit, Michigan, in 1935. While working as a delivery boy in Los Angeles, one of the stops along his route was Phil Spector’s recording studio. The ambitious twenty-something ingratiated himself to the brilliant but eccentric record producer, and talked his way into an engineering job. A quick study with a good ear but a nasal, whiny voice, Sonny absorbed the nuts and bolts of Spector’s methods, managing to work out arrangements and even writing a hit Spector-ish song, ‘Needles and Pins’. While working for Spector, he met and fell in love with a 15-year-old backup singer named Cherilyn LaPiere. They formed a duo called Caesar and Cleo, got married, changed the act’s name to Sonny & Cher, and took off for the top of the charts with Sonny’s catchy 1965 ditty, ‘I Got You Babe.’ In the early 70s, they became stars of a hit TV variety series, which lasted until their divorce in 1974.

You know the rest of the story. After Sonny & Cher fizzled, Bono opened a restaurant in Beverly Hills. When that eventually failed, he ran for mayor of Palm Springs – and won. Then he went on to become a U.S. congressman. In America, a little talent and a lot of chutzpah can take you a long, long way.

Commemorate the birth of one of the patron saints of perserverence will a Double Bill of Bono: In ‘Good Times’ (1966), the duo’s sole excursion into the movies as a team, Sonny and Cher play themselves, with George Sanders as a Hollywood tycoon who keeps dreaming up different parts they could play. Tracy and Hepburn they weren’t – they weren’t even George & Gracie – but they display the goofy chemistry that would take them to the top of the Neilsons with their later TV series. ‘Good Times’ also boasts the distinction of being the first movie ever directed by William Freidkin, who would later go on to direct ‘The Exorcist’ and ‘The French Connection.’

Then, if you stand stand the homage, ponder ‘Chastity’ (1969), Sony Bono’s sole effort as screenwriter, and Cher’s first starring role. She plays – surprise! – a free spirited young woman named Chastity. That’s about all you need to know – except here’s your opportunity to see Cher with her original nose.
Click here for 'It's The Little Things' from 'Good Times' . . .

Monday, February 15, 2010

PROFILE OF A LEGEND . . . AND LEGEND OF A PROFILE




February 15th . . .

John Barrymore – ‘The Great Profile’ and grandfather to Drew Barrymore – was born this day in 1882, too late for what could have been a phenomenal career in motion pictures. As it was, he was still plenty successful.

The youngest son of stage matinee idol Maurice Barrymore and American actress Georgia Drew, and brother of fellow thespians Ethel and Lionel, John Barrymore was one of the most charismatic men ever to grace (and disgrace) the theater footlights. His Hamlet and Richard III are the stuff of legend, as is his tempestuous, anecdote-laden private life. He walked through most of his film roles as the character of ‘John Barrymore’, a concocted persona of flamboyance, impeccable diction, dry wit, and a profile that the camera adored – at least in his early years.

His silent film roles – like in ‘Don Juan’ (1926) and 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’ (1920) – capture his astonishing beauty. But by the time talkies arrived, Barrymore was already over 50, and his once magnificent physique and memory were beginning to show the inevitable ravages of a self-indulgent life of women, parties and booze. Lots and lots of booze.

Still, he managed to conjure a few brilliant performances on film before he literally drank himself to death in 1942. His Mercutio in ‘Romeo and Juliet’ (1936) may be overage but is still robust and full of mischief, and his doomed jewel thief who falls in love with Greata Garbo in ‘Grand Hotel’ is gallant and touching. But the film that best captures Barrymore’s hammy brilliance – and ingratiating gift for self-parody – is Howard Hawks’ 1934 screwball classic ‘Twentieth Century.’ Barrymore plays Oscar Jaffe, a pretentious and manipulative theater director who discovers and mentors unknown actress Mildred Plotnik (Carole Lombard), and changes her name to Lily Garland. She becomes a huge star and leaves the egomaniacal Oscar to go to Hollywood; his career tanks. When they meet again on a cross-country train, Oscar maneuvers to get her name on an exclusive contract. Barrymore simultaneously makes fun of the acting profession (playing a character who has been acting for so long he’s no longer capable of distinguishing acting from reality) while honoring it. Barrymore is nearly matched by the delightful Lombard as the feisty diva.

Here’s a true rarity: a short clip of Barrymore as Richard III. Click here to see it . . .


Thursday, February 11, 2010

SAY 'I LOVE YOU' WITH A MOVIE







Man, I hate Valentine’s Day.

I like what it stands for – in theory, anyway – love, compassion, romance . . but really, what is it but a cynical excuse for retailers to squeeze a little cash out of a slow, post-Holidays, mid-Winter sales period? The price of flowers, chocolates, cards and jewelry spikes like the temperature in August, and you have to wait in line at decent restaurants for hours while some strolling violinist saws through another yawn-inducing rendition of ‘Yesterday’.

Do I come across as jaded? Well, I didn’t get a card this year. So screw it.

On the other hand, I do treasure good romantic movies. Here’s an arbitrary list of some of my favorites. You can’t go wrong with any of ‘em. Listen, save a little bread, rent one of these, spend a little cash on a decent bottle of red, carve your partner’s initials on a Hershey bar and watch the sparks fly. Love favors the thrifty.


‘Robin and Marion’ (1976) – a romance for dreamers in middle age, with a wonderful performance from Sean Connery as an over-the-hill Robin Hood, and the luminous Audrey Hepburn as Maid Marion.

‘A Little Romance’ (1979) – a celebration of very young love.

‘The Princess Bride’ (1987), the enchanting comic fable based on William Goldman’s cult classic novel.

‘Beauty and the Beast’ – pick any version.

‘Roxanne’ (1987) – Steve Martin’s sweet parody of Cyranno de Bergerac.

‘When Harry Met Sally’ (1989) – Rob Reiner directs Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan is like a less-filling Woody Allen movie. And speaking of Woody . .

‘Annie Hall’ (1979), Woody’s most unabashedly romantic film.

‘Moonstruck’ (1987), Cher’s Academy-award winning performance as a thirty-something woman who finds love with pizza flipper Nicholas Cage (“Get over it!”)

‘The Taming of the Shrew’ (1967), an energetic and bawdy rendering of Shakespeare’s classic battle-of-the-sexes starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

‘The Way We Were’ (1973) Get out the hankies, ladies.

‘Casablanca’ (1939) Get out the hankies, guys.

‘An Affair To Remember’ (1957) – Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr star in the tear-jerker that inspired all those Nora Ephron movies.

‘The Bridges of Madison County’ (1997), wherein Clint Eastwood goes all soft and mushy over neglected housewife Meryl Streep, and both rewards and repercussions of adultery are artfully balanced.

‘On Golden Pond’ (1981) stars Henry Fonda and Katherine Hepburn as a long-time couple knowing their autumns together are dwindling to a precious few.

‘The African Queen’ (1951), Hepburn again, this time playing a spinsterish missionary teamed with hard-drinking steamboat skipper Humphrey Bogart.

‘Debbie Does Dallas’ . . . the romantic tale of . . . oops, how did that get in here?

Send me your faves. And viva l’amour.

NATIONAL CONFESSION DAY


February 13 . . .

Today is National Confession Day. I confess . . I have no idea where it came from.

Nor do I care. But I'm saving that sentiment for National Apathy Day.

Observe the occasion with – what else? – Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘I Confess’ (1953). Montgomery Clift stars as a Catholic priest who faces the death penalty because he refuses to divulge incriminating information he heard in the confessional, and the circumstances point to him as the prime suspect.

Not one of the Master’s typical cinematic roller coaster rides, ‘I Confess’ is one of his more serious artistic ventures, more character study than white-knuckle thriller or mystery. Still, Hitch’s style is much in evidence, and the black and white, holy noir atmosphere is ripe with symbolism. Clift is great – there is still the ghost of his youthful beauty in evidence – and Karl Malden began a long career of playing cops in this movie.

Click here to see the trailer . . .
And send us your Valentine's Day choice for Most Romantic Movie! Time's running out . .

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

HOWL AT THE MOON




February 10 . . .


“Even a man who is pure of heart
And says his prayers by night,
May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms,
And the autumn moon is bright.”

Pity poor Lon Chaney Jr. Doomed for eternity to toil in the Actors Hall of Fame’s B-list, never acknowledged or rewarded in his lifetime, living in the imposing shadow of his legendary father, and stuck in a film genre that was one niche above pornography in the eyes of highbrow critics.

He did have an extraordinary quality, though – unique in his way at mingling brutality and pathos, vulnerability and compulsion – skillfully facilating between playing the innocent victim and the sociopathic brute. He could never be a convincing leading man – too big, lumbering and awkward – but his sincerity was convincing and charismatic in its straightforward way. He was born Chreighton Chaney 104 years ago today in Oklahoma.

His father, of course, was silent screen icon Lon Chaney. After his dad died in 1930, Creighton tried his hand at acting, mostly small roles in B Westerns and Sci-Fi serials for studios like Republic. He was muscular and athletic, handsome in a primitive way, simple in his technique, and possessed of a boomy, helium-inflected voice that projected a vaguely discernible put-upon vulnerability, like a boy’s emotions held captive in a man’s body. He got lucky in 1939, after reluctantly changing his name to the more bankable ‘Lon Chaney, Jr.’ and being cast in the film version of John Steinbeck’s ‘Of Mice and Men’, playing the lumbering simpleton, Lenny – a piece of typecasting that he would drag around and exploit for the rest of his life.

It was his finest moment onscreen, but not his most successful. That would come two years later with ‘The Wolfman’, which established him as the New Kid On The Block in the Horror genre. Chaney played Lawrence Talbot, an American engineer who reunites with father Claude Rains (a bit of improbable casting – the two together looked like Mutt & Jeff) in England and gets bitten by a werewolf. He spends the rest of the film dreading the full moon (no other actor could work his eyebrows like Chaney), transforming into a vicious beast under its spell. ‘The Wolfman’ was a hit, and Chaney – for better or for worse – found himself ensconced as the new King of Horror.

Universal Studios recycled Chaney in the role for several follow-ups – ‘Frankenstein Meets The Wolfman’ , ‘House of Dracula’, ‘House of Frankenstein’ . . until finally putting the proverbial nail in the horror genre coffin with ‘Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein’, wherein Chaney appeared in an obvious lethargic alcoholic haze.

He soldiered on, mostly playing psychotic heavies and dim-witted thugs, until dying in 1972, the end result of a lifetime of hard living, heavy drinking and chain smoking. Celebrate his film legacy by watching him in his signature role – “that was my baby”, he was found of saying in later years – in ‘The Wolfman’.

Click here for a scene from ‘The Wolfman’ . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTNQEd8D4pg

and afterward, go out tonight and howl at the moon for Lon Chaney. In the words of Warren Zevon, “his hair was perfect.”

Monday, February 8, 2010

HAIL MARY




February 8 . . .

Has any contemporary American actress aged as well as Mary Steenburgen? Happy 57th birthday today to Mary Steenburgen, one of the most underated actresses of the past 30 years. If anyone has aged more gracefully than Ms. Steenburgen, I don’t know who it is.

She shows up these days mostly in supporting roles, but she came out of the gate as a leading lady in 1978’s ‘Goin’ South’. Director and star Jack Nicholson recognized her unique qualities and cast her as the feisty frontier feminist who saves Nicholson’s rascally outlaw from the gallows by marrying him. The movie was ragged but did have a certain no’oblese oblige charm to it – thanks mostly to the screwy chemistry between Steenburgen and Nicholson. Steenburgen projected the qualities which would become her calling card – independence, eccentricity, resolve, vulnerability, and a certain quirky humor. Diminunative but commanding, she stole the spotlight out from under Nicholson – no small feat for such small feet.

She went on to cover a diverse spectrum of roles – as author Marjorie Kinnin Rawlins in ‘Cross Creek’ (boasting a great supporting turn from Rip Torn), as Paul LeMat’s disenchanted wife in ‘Melvin and Howard’, . But my favorite Steenburgen performance is her turn in the wonderful low budget, hi-concept sci-fi romance, ‘Time After Time’, where she first met future husband (or future ex-husband) Malcolm McDowell.

McDowell plays author H.G. Wells, who finds himself transported from Victorian London via his own time machine to contemporary San Francisco, in search of Jack the Ripper, whom he’s inadvertently set loose in the 20th Century. The out-of-time-and-place Wells meets up with Steenburgen’s feminist bank teller, who is immediately attracted to his little-boy-lost vulnerability, and sparks fly.

The sparks are quite palpable on the screen. Steenburgen later confessed that the restaurant scene where the two are getting acquainted was when McDowell announced his real-life love for her, and her awkward nervousness in the scene is genuine. The two actors possess a wonderful chemistry and rapport, exuding vulnerability and mutual attraction, and their romance is funny, touching and affecting.

In the intervening years Steenburgen has evolved from waifish to regal, but has never lost her ability to command the camera’s attention by seemingly shying away from it. Check out her coquettish charm in this clip from ‘Time After Time’ . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zD39rK1uSww

Sunday, February 7, 2010

BEATLES INVADE AMERICA


February 7 . . .


On this day, on a cold winter morning in 1964 after a long trans-Atlantic flight on BEA airlines, the Beatles arrived at JFK Airport for the first of 3 scheduled appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show – and Beatlemania erupted in the USA. A crowd of over 3,000 – mostly teenage girls – was on hand to welcome them. Before they sang a note, the group charmed the jaded Big Apple reporters at the airport with their repartee and witty, off-the-cuff answers to their demeaning questions:

“Will you sing for us?”

John: “No, we need money first.”

“We hear that Detroit’s organizing a ‘Stamp Out The Beatles’ campaign. What are you going to do?”

Paul: “We’re putting together a ‘Stamp Out Detroit’ campaign.

“Do you ever get haircuts?”

George: “I had one yesterday.”

“What do you think of Beethoven?”

Ringo: “He’s great. ‘Specially his poems.”

“How do you find America?”

John: “Turn left at Greenland.”

Celebrate the beguiling phenomenon that was Beatlemania – magically evoked in ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ (1964), the group’s unexpectedly inventive and funny film debut. Andrew Sarris famously called the film “the Citizen Kane of jukebox musicals”, but it’s a lot more than that lofty and facile description would imply. Initially planned as a black-and-white quickie exploitation flick to cash in on the group’s popularity, ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ transcended its purpose and its genre to become a buoyant masterpiece. Filmed as a faux-verite ‘day in the life’ of the group (written by fellow Liverpudlian Alan Owen), ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ managed to capture pop culture lightning in a bottle, portraying the Beatles as a kind of mod, musical version of the Marx Brothers.

Director Richard Lester made the most of his limited resources; the film is brimming with energy and inventive sight gags. His use of hand-held cameras and framing of musical sequences served as a virtual Bible for future music videos.

‘A Hard Day’s Night’ is packed with memorable bits: The exhilarating ‘Can’t By Me Love’ montage with the group cavorting in an open field (“Sorry we hurt your field, mister.”); George’s deadpan confrontation with a stiff-shirted marketing guru; and, best of all, Ringo’s wistful solo sojourn beside the River Thames. (He later confessed to being hung over during the shooting of that sequence.)

At once a vivid snapshot of a long-ago era and still-fresh musical comedy, ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ remains The Beatles’ most enchanting and enduring cinematic legacy.

Here's a special treat! Check out today's 'Movie A Day With Joel Block' Radio Show - all about The Beatles - by clicking here . .

Feb 7th

Watch the trailer by clicking here . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0eJEX5c1sM

Saturday, February 6, 2010

BIRTHDAY BABE


February 6 . . .

Happy 115th birthday today to the ‘Sultan of Swat’, George Herman ‘Babe’ Ruth, born in Baltimore, Maryland, this day in 1895. He endured a troubled childhood – abandoned by his parents and left to be raised by priests – and went on to become one of the ultimate sports icons of all time. In his twenty-two major league seasons he hit 714 home runs and played in 10 World Series. And, by all accounts, he was one of the most colorful sports heroes ever, with a hearty, gluttonous appetite for life.

He’s been the subject of two very different screen bios – the highly fictionalized whitewash, ‘The Babe Ruth Story’ (1948), starring William Bendix, and the more realistic, warts-‘n-all portrait in ‘The Babe’ (1991). Bendix played the Babe as a simpleton – gifted, good-hearted oaf. John Goodman delivers a splendid, big-barreled performance as the life-grabbing, hard hitting (in more ways than one) Ruth, while still maintaining the geniality that the Babe projected. Here he emerges as a glutton for life who abuses alcohol, has outbursts of violence, and cheats on his wife. If that’s not the makings of an American sports icon, I don’t know what is.

‘The Babe’ is a surprisingly affecting sports movie, even if you don’t know a ball from a strike. (If you’d like to see how the real Babe fared in front of a movie camera, catch 1942’s ‘Pride of the Yankees’ with Gary Cooper as Lou Gehrig and Ruth appearing in a cameo as himself.)

For a real change of pace, check out this old Vitaphone short with the real Babe starring as himself. Sure, he could hit a ball . . but could he act, or write a song? Judge for yourself!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLhV72is82A&feature=PlayList&p=017107D11F3C99B2&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=5

Friday, February 5, 2010

GENERALLY SPEAKING, A MASTERPIECE


February 5 . .

The greatest film comedy ever? That’s like Sophie’s Choice – an impossible conundrum to resolve. Somebody’s going to get the short end.

But if I had to choose one film comedy over all others – the one I’d most like to have on my desert island DVD player – it would be ‘The General’ (1927).

On this day in 1927, silent film clown and genius Buster Keaton released his masterpiece, ‘The General’, possibly the greatest silent comedy of all time – and it sank at the box office like a lead pellet down a bottle of Prell.

During the Civil War, young Southerner Johnny Gray (Keaton) risks his life as he pursues his beloved railway engine, stolen by Northern spies. ‘The General’ has it all – brilliant comedy, suspense, action, unbelievably enveloping period detail, a love story, and the single longest sustained chase ever put on film. It also has the single most expensive visual joke in the history of movies – a steam locomotive crossing a wooden bridge and collapsing into the river below.

Seen today, ‘The General’ is still brilliantly inventive. The period detail is faithfully recreated – you’d swear it was literally filmed during the Civil War. The images look like Mathew Brady daguerreotypes come to life.

Sadly, not long after the failure of this movie, Keaton’s career began its long decline; by the 1930s, he was an alcoholic, confined for a time to a sanitarium, and had lost creative control of his movies. His marriage collapsed, his children were taken from him (and their names changed), and he was reduced to playing second banana to Jimmy Durante. Keaton did live long enough to see a revival of interest and appreciation of his work throughout the 60s, up until his death in 1966.

He often cited ‘The General’ as his favorite among his movies. Unfortunately, this masterpiece fell into the public domain many years ago and has been dubbed many times. Catch the digitally remastered Kino Film version if you possibly can – the images are jaw-droppingly vivid and alive.

Here's a short clip from 'Buster Keaton Rides Again', which features footage from ‘The General’:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3xh108cLbo

Thursday, February 4, 2010

DEATH TAKES A HOLIDAY

February 4, 2010

Whenever I get too jaded and pessimistic about the state of the world, I find hope and solace in marking this unlikely day of redemption, February 4th.

I used to live in New York City (and no, that’s not an oxymoron – but ‘growing up in California’ is.) During that time I played music in a duo called Kick at Heaven (later The Nonchalants), with my wonderful friend Jean Synodinos. Jean is a gifted songwriter, and a keen observer of both world events and human behavior. A few years ago – 1994 – she read an article in the very back pages of The New York Post. The article said that that the day before, February 4th, marked the first time in recorded history that no crime had been reported in the city of New York. Not a single rape, murder or robbery. “The cops had nothing to do but eat donuts”, Jean later said.

A watermark date in Big Apple history, buried underneath an ad for Crazy Eddie on page 36.

Redemption is found in the unlikliest of places.

Jean seized the moment and wrote an amazing and inspiring song, called ‘February 4th’, commemorating this little-known, little-celebrated but remarkable day in New York.

Here’s the opening verse:

“Well you can read the news with a cynical eye,
sometimes I let it pass me by.
It’s a whole lot safer stayin’ deaf and dumb,
a whole lot warmer stayin’ cold and numb.
But I read it on a cold, cold Saturday . .
woke up and said, ‘You heard us pray.’
On February 4th this year,
the city shed a few less hundred tears and children really got to play.
Violent death took a holiday.

I went back, had to read it some more,
the cops said this had never happened before.
No incidents to report, they said -
no woman was raped, no blood was shed.
Like peace just sat in the hearts of all,
and hand in hand we all stood tall . . .
On February 4th this year,
the city shed a few less hundred tears and children really got to play . . .
violent death took a holiday.”

The song goes on, but you’ll have a challenging time finding it or hearing it. To the best of my knowledge, it was never released in a commercial recording. But anyone who’s ever been lucky enough to hear it has never forgotten it, nor the remarkable occasion that served as a catalyst for its creator. (You can find out more about Jean Synodinos and her work at http://www.jeansynodinos.com/.)

Celebrate the anniversary of the day when ‘violent death took a holiday’ with a decidedly strange and little-known cinematic oddity, 1939‘s ‘On Borrowed Time’. Lionel Barrymore stars as a curmudgeonly old grandpa who’s confined to a wheelchair. He manages to outfox Death – called ‘Mr. Scratch’ here – by keeping him at bay up a tree, powerless to do his job. But death delayed has unforeseen repercussions, and complications ensue. Part Rod Serling-esque fantasy, part Louie B. Mayer treacle, ‘On Borrowed Time’ is a genuinely strange film with moments of poetry, maudlin humor, and a lot of empty calories for thought.

Other suitable movies for this day: ‘The Day The Earth Stood Still’ (1953), the sci-fi classic about a Messianic alien (Michael Rennie) who journeys to earth to save mankind from itself (now there’s an oxymoron – ‘mankind’.) And, of course, ‘Death Takes A Holiday’.

Here's a clip from 'On Borrowed Time' . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k191m7jrmOQ&feature=related

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED

February 3 . . .

A sad landmark in rock history. If you listened to a pop, rock or oldies radio station today, you know this is the 51st anniversary of the day a plane carrying Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper went down near Clear Lake, Iowa.

Buddy Holly was the pioneer, everyman rocker who proved you could look like a geek and still rock and get the girl. Richie Valens may have gone on to become one of the first rock ‘n roll cultural crossover artists, combing Hispanic musical traditions with AM radio acceptance. The Big Bopper was . . well, a radio DJ who got lucky on the charts and unlucky in air travel.

Biopics are a notoriously unreliable reflection of an artist’s life, and ‘The Buddy Holly Story’ is no exception. It misses some of the particulars - there were 3 Crickets, not 2 - but these are quibbles; overall, the movie gets the spirit right. Gary Busey had the role of his career as Holly, though he stood a good foot above the real Buddy. Don Stroud and Charles Martin Smith (‘The Untouchables’, ‘Never Cry Wolf’, ‘American Graffiti’) play The Crickets, and one of the great perks of the flick is the fact that they really are playing live in the concert sequences, not lip-synching. Dramatically, ‘The Buddy Holly Story’ is pretty standard, Hollywood white-wash stuff – but its musical sequences have a visceral energy that prove to be the movie’s saving grace.

Make it a double bill with ‘La Bamba’, director Luis Valdez’s take on the story of Richie Valens, the young Mexican-American rocker who shared that final fatal flight with Holly. Lou Diamond Phillips became a star thanks to his portrayal of the ill-fated rocker, but soul of the movie lies in Esai Morales’ moody portrait of Richie’s older brother.

Here's a clip from 'The Buddy Holly Story' where Buddy and the boys find themselves the unlikely headliners at The Apollo Theater in NY, appearing in front of a crowd of locals.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOsxzZMqYx0

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

GROUNDHOG DAY

February 2 . . .


Ever wonder where such a goofy holiday as Groundhog Day came from? It stems from an old German legend that says if the sun shines on this day (also known as Candlemass Day - impress your friends with that one)six more weeks of winter will follow. I'm afraid I can't shed any light on how the groundhog got involved . .

Celebrate the occasion with - what else? - 'Groundhog Day' (1993). Bill Murray stars in one of his signature screen roles as arrogrant, misanthropic TV weatherman Phil Connors, who is resigned to cover the annual Groundhog Day festivities in Punxatawney, Pennsylvania - "the weather capital of the world" - only to find himself lost in some sort of time warp, having to re-live the same 24 hours over and over . . . and over.

Murray is endearingly smarmy, and Andie McDowell is good as the coworker he's trying to seduce. A consistently witty and inventive comedy from writer/director Harold Ramis, who also worked with Murray on 'Ghostbusters'.

Click here for the trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_yDWQsrajA