Sine your pitty on the runny kine.
Everybody loves Pootie Tang. Especially the ladies. His only weakness: hos.
It's impossible to review Pootie Tang. You have to see it. It already has a kind of dated feel: the style is turn-of-the-century, pseudo-neo-blackspoitation. The enemy: corporate America headed by Dick Lecter (Robert Vaughn, a great comedy villain). The hero: too-cool-for-words (literally: he only speaks in idiosyncratic slang) Pootie Tang. The stakes: the health of America's youth.
Look for David Cross as the lead anti-Pootie (in blackface). And Wire fans will recognize Bodie (J D Williams) as Dirty Dee's henchman, Froggy. Also, the whole deal was written and produced by Louis C.K. Maybe I finally understand why I liked this movie.
Chris Rock is central, playing multiple roles. He seems well-restrained (good directing) and is really funny playing peripheral characters. The lead is played by Lance Crouthier -- a great name, but admittedly one I had to look up. Wanda Sykes is excellent. Dave Attell is in the movie. And there are even more celebs and comics you'll recognize.
Pootie Tang is a classic. If you haven't seen it, see it. If you have seen it, it's probably been too long, so see it again. Sadatay.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
King Kong (1933)
Terry's Grade: A-
Maybe I'm getting old, but this movie is better than I remember. I remember it being boring, probably because it was B&W. I was probably less than 10 years old.
Lessons learned from this movie:
King Kong is full of famous tropes, and definitely had a part in making at least some of them famous. Like so many classic films, King Kong is remembered for its groundbreaking achievements. There are many things in this film that are often thought of as modern innovations. I remember seeing an interview recently (in the past 10 years or so) with an actor who was talking about the challenges of acting against a digitally-animated character, who wouldn't be added until post-production. Seems like an artifact of the CGI era, but there it is, in King Kong, as Denham and Driscoll walk past a writhing, dying stegosaurus, commenting on the fact that it's not quite dead yet, perfectly in synch with the beast's tail making a last desperate attack.
Although the technical aspects of this movie are probably its strength, it's also great story-telling, and meta-story-telling. I love the scene when Denham is addressing the crowd of reporters in New York, as they try to figure out their angle on the King Kong story. Is Driscoll the hero, because he saved Ann Darrow? Is Denham the hero, because he had the presence of mind to bring out the gas bombs? Or is the story Darrow herself? "That's your angle," Denham tells them. "Beauty and the beast." Ever the showman, he's still spouting that bs at the end of the movie; "No, it wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast." (or something like that). After seeing Sullivan's Travels so recently, it's fun to see another movie about filmmaking.
Time-out: what are the classic films about filmmaking, anyway? We've got King Kong and Sullivan's Travels. Immediately I also think of Adaptation (and maybe Synechdoche, NY, but that's theater not film). Ed Wood. Mulholland Drive (not really). Any more? I'd love to see some in the comments.
Okay, I'm way off track now, so let's end with a long quote from Inglourious Basterds:
And that's that.
Maybe I'm getting old, but this movie is better than I remember. I remember it being boring, probably because it was B&W. I was probably less than 10 years old.
Lessons learned from this movie:
- If you need an actress for your shady, interracial sex romp movie, first you look at the women's shelter. If everyone there is too old and ugly, you may find a suitable substitute stealing apples on the street (which is something people tend to do a lot in movies).
- If you stumble upon the last surviving dinosaur on the planet, shoot it. Then shoot it again. And again until it is dead.
- "Open-front suits" are fancy
King Kong is full of famous tropes, and definitely had a part in making at least some of them famous. Like so many classic films, King Kong is remembered for its groundbreaking achievements. There are many things in this film that are often thought of as modern innovations. I remember seeing an interview recently (in the past 10 years or so) with an actor who was talking about the challenges of acting against a digitally-animated character, who wouldn't be added until post-production. Seems like an artifact of the CGI era, but there it is, in King Kong, as Denham and Driscoll walk past a writhing, dying stegosaurus, commenting on the fact that it's not quite dead yet, perfectly in synch with the beast's tail making a last desperate attack.
Although the technical aspects of this movie are probably its strength, it's also great story-telling, and meta-story-telling. I love the scene when Denham is addressing the crowd of reporters in New York, as they try to figure out their angle on the King Kong story. Is Driscoll the hero, because he saved Ann Darrow? Is Denham the hero, because he had the presence of mind to bring out the gas bombs? Or is the story Darrow herself? "That's your angle," Denham tells them. "Beauty and the beast." Ever the showman, he's still spouting that bs at the end of the movie; "No, it wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast." (or something like that). After seeing Sullivan's Travels so recently, it's fun to see another movie about filmmaking.
Time-out: what are the classic films about filmmaking, anyway? We've got King Kong and Sullivan's Travels. Immediately I also think of Adaptation (and maybe Synechdoche, NY, but that's theater not film). Ed Wood. Mulholland Drive (not really). Any more? I'd love to see some in the comments.
Okay, I'm way off track now, so let's end with a long quote from Inglourious Basterds:
- Okay, my native land is the jungle. I visited America, but the visit was not fortuitous to me, but the implication is that it was to somebody else. When I went from the jungle to America, did I go by boat?
- Yes.
- Did I go against my will?
- Yes.
- On this boat ride, was I in chains?
- Yes.
- When I arrived in America, was I displayed in chains?
- Yes!
- Am I the story of the negro in America?
- No.
- Well, then, I must be King Kong.
And that's that.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? (1970)
"Just STFU already!"
Since 100filmz (but with a little sex in it) has a "SPOILERS PLEASE!" policy, from what I understand, this review will certainly spoil whatever plot this experimental film has.
In fact, the title spoils the plot if we look at the origin of the term "run amok":
"The term originated in Southeast Asia, where 'amok' (variously spelled amuk, amuck, amuco) meant 'a murderous frenzy or rage'. This derived from the state of mind of the Amuco - a class of 'death or glory' warriors who were employed in local power struggles in Java and Malaysia."
Source: http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/run-amok.html
Clearly the title implies Herr Raab's story climaxes in murderous rage, and that's what happens following a series of long takes illuminating Raab's lifestyle, often excruciating and boring, but occasionally humorous. Raab admires practicality and adherence to what he perceives to be proper social mores. Despite his efforts, he is a misfit, doomed to a complacent position of awkward silence while listening to insipid gossip from co-workers or his wife's friends, or listening to the condescension of his boss.
Lars von Trier (et al.) created a style of filmmaking called Dogme 95 to achieve a different sense of cinematic authenticity: no mounted cameras, no external objects or sounds, and a reliance on improvisation. Fassbinder does it 25 years earlier with this film. We are immersed in Raab's dull existence with a documentary-style presentation. The camera is almost always handheld at average adult height and often forces us to look down upon our anti-hero. You can almost feel film being psychologically drained and pulled downward by the framing.
(As an aside, it also seems like a precursor to Robert Altman's developed style of filming overlapping conversations and taking care to observe reactions rather than solely focusing on the speakers)
The film seems to center on identity. As Raab's wife notes, "there's a time and place for everything" and Raab simply wants to be himself. Unfortunately society does not accept his authentic identity, and his attempt at creating a socially acceptable one has failed. This futility seems to drive him to a triple-murder-suicide, presented with such indifference that it becomes more shocking than a scene weighed down by clever cinematographic or editing techniques. It evokes such contradictory emotions from empathy for Raab to absolute disgust and shock. It was my first Fassbinder film, I believe, and look forward to seeing more of his films and those of other "new" German cinema directors.
Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? (1970)
Written and Directed By: Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Michael Fengler
Grade: B+
In fact, the title spoils the plot if we look at the origin of the term "run amok":
"The term originated in Southeast Asia, where 'amok' (variously spelled amuk, amuck, amuco) meant 'a murderous frenzy or rage'. This derived from the state of mind of the Amuco - a class of 'death or glory' warriors who were employed in local power struggles in Java and Malaysia."
Source: http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/run-amok.html
Clearly the title implies Herr Raab's story climaxes in murderous rage, and that's what happens following a series of long takes illuminating Raab's lifestyle, often excruciating and boring, but occasionally humorous. Raab admires practicality and adherence to what he perceives to be proper social mores. Despite his efforts, he is a misfit, doomed to a complacent position of awkward silence while listening to insipid gossip from co-workers or his wife's friends, or listening to the condescension of his boss.
Lars von Trier (et al.) created a style of filmmaking called Dogme 95 to achieve a different sense of cinematic authenticity: no mounted cameras, no external objects or sounds, and a reliance on improvisation. Fassbinder does it 25 years earlier with this film. We are immersed in Raab's dull existence with a documentary-style presentation. The camera is almost always handheld at average adult height and often forces us to look down upon our anti-hero. You can almost feel film being psychologically drained and pulled downward by the framing.
(As an aside, it also seems like a precursor to Robert Altman's developed style of filming overlapping conversations and taking care to observe reactions rather than solely focusing on the speakers)
The film seems to center on identity. As Raab's wife notes, "there's a time and place for everything" and Raab simply wants to be himself. Unfortunately society does not accept his authentic identity, and his attempt at creating a socially acceptable one has failed. This futility seems to drive him to a triple-murder-suicide, presented with such indifference that it becomes more shocking than a scene weighed down by clever cinematographic or editing techniques. It evokes such contradictory emotions from empathy for Raab to absolute disgust and shock. It was my first Fassbinder film, I believe, and look forward to seeing more of his films and those of other "new" German cinema directors.
Why Does Herr R. Run Amok? (1970)
Written and Directed By: Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Michael Fengler
Grade: B+
Monday, November 14, 2011
Lolita (1962)
"I want it. I have to have it. I need your juicy piece of...bacon?"
Kubrick's independence from Hollywood effectively begins with Lolita (1962). We can see glimpses of the future director's experimental camera angles and storytelling techniques, but we also see the influence of the director's past in Classical Hollywood Cinema. In a career of masterpieces, Lolita fails to stand out, overshadowed by the greatest, least recognized war film, Paths of Glory (1957), and certainly his later films making it simultaneously underrated and mediocre depending on your perspective. This film feels more like an outcast like Spartacus (1960) from Kubrick's singular oeuvre.
The film lacks restraint both in its running time (and therefore editing choices) and its on-the-nose tone. Unfortunately its greatest failure is the cast, except Sue Lyon (Lolita) who captures a casual, simultaneous seductiveness and childishness that rarely feels forced. For a film whose backbone is the nature of sexual desire, James Mason (Humbert Humbert) acts like an asexual robot, so his character falls flat. He also fails to capture any authentic sense of remorse. James Mason is better off in Roman epics or as Captain Nemo. Peter Sellers (Quilty) literally does a Stanley Kubrick imitation and behaves (as he often does in his roles) as a complete alien.
Direction reigns supreme. Kubrick uses black and white cinematography masterfully. In one shot, a domineering high angle looks down on Lolita in a white dress laying in a pool of bright white from the bed sheets. The only significant source of darkness comes from the soles of her symbolically adult, high-heeled shoes she dangles. In another, Humbert is drowned in darkness with the sole light sharply highlighting his hands covering his face. Like Welles, he uses elongated shadows, deep focus and blocking, and architecture that sharply frames shots.
Overall, the film feels like a parody of a satire of a borderline tragedy. Between the moments of slapstick humor and left-field double entendres about filling her cavity or making her a sandwich with extra mayonnaise just the way she likes it, the film fails to achieve emotional authenticity even if it does entertain. Maybe that was Kubrick's intention. Looking at it from 2011, it's more of an attempt at making an American Beauty (1999) than it is In The Bedroom (2001); it's just not certain where on that spectrum it's best suited. Is it a dark comedy or just snide mockery? At least it's well made and occasionally visually interesting.
The film lacks restraint both in its running time (and therefore editing choices) and its on-the-nose tone. Unfortunately its greatest failure is the cast, except Sue Lyon (Lolita) who captures a casual, simultaneous seductiveness and childishness that rarely feels forced. For a film whose backbone is the nature of sexual desire, James Mason (Humbert Humbert) acts like an asexual robot, so his character falls flat. He also fails to capture any authentic sense of remorse. James Mason is better off in Roman epics or as Captain Nemo. Peter Sellers (Quilty) literally does a Stanley Kubrick imitation and behaves (as he often does in his roles) as a complete alien.
Direction reigns supreme. Kubrick uses black and white cinematography masterfully. In one shot, a domineering high angle looks down on Lolita in a white dress laying in a pool of bright white from the bed sheets. The only significant source of darkness comes from the soles of her symbolically adult, high-heeled shoes she dangles. In another, Humbert is drowned in darkness with the sole light sharply highlighting his hands covering his face. Like Welles, he uses elongated shadows, deep focus and blocking, and architecture that sharply frames shots.
Overall, the film feels like a parody of a satire of a borderline tragedy. Between the moments of slapstick humor and left-field double entendres about filling her cavity or making her a sandwich with extra mayonnaise just the way she likes it, the film fails to achieve emotional authenticity even if it does entertain. Maybe that was Kubrick's intention. Looking at it from 2011, it's more of an attempt at making an American Beauty (1999) than it is In The Bedroom (2001); it's just not certain where on that spectrum it's best suited. Is it a dark comedy or just snide mockery? At least it's well made and occasionally visually interesting.
Lolita (1962)
Directed By: Stanley Kubrick
Written By: Vladimir Nabokov (from his novel) and Stanley Kubrick (uncredited)
Grade: B-
Directed By: Stanley Kubrick
Written By: Vladimir Nabokov (from his novel) and Stanley Kubrick (uncredited)
Grade: B-
Sunday, November 13, 2011
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)
Terry's Grade: A
Here's an example (one of many) of a movie I've seen multiple times before, but never really watched. I noticed my memory of the plot started fading after the famous "badges" scene. I guess I fell asleep.
This is a movie with a great plot and story at its heart, but it excels because of the details and the great characters throughout. Most memorable, perhaps, is the Mexican bandito who laughs too much and really hates badges. But I'd never realized that the American at the beginning of the film, who Bogart hits up three times for a handout, is played by John Huston (who I remember mainly as the creepy old evil tycoon from Chinatown), son of Walter Huston, who plays the cheerful old prospector Howard.
The movie centers on the development of Humphrey Bogart's character, Dobbs. The theme of money is established in the first scene, where Dobbs tears up a losing lottery ticket. From there we see Dobbs begging for change, working as a laborer, then beating up a boss who cheated him out of his pay, and finally contemplating murder as a way of hanging on to the riches he's managed to obtain.
By transitioning from a sympathetic to pitiable character, Bogart transitions from seeming protagonist to antagonist. Having slept through the end of the movie last time, I never realized that the actual protagonist of the movie is the third prospector, Curtain, played by Tim Holt. Of course, it doesn't help that Holt's portrayal is kind of forgettable. And none of the three leads is entirely pious anyway. All three agree to murder a stranger who finds out about their illegal gold mining operation; the only difference among the three is the degree to which they display some amount of visible hesitancy when it comes time to draw their guns. When Dobbs is trapped in the mine during a cave-in, Curtain seems to hesitate a moment, as if contemplating leaving Dobbs alone to die, before rushing in to help him. But as the movie progresses we are shown the moral side of Curtain (who vows to contribute a share of his fortune to the widow of the dead prospector) and Howard (who risks his gold to save a dying Indian child, demonstrating not only his willingness to help others, but also to trust his colleagues). Howard's trip to the Indian village leads to an almost surreal scene in which he raises and lowers the arms of the drowned child before a crowd of hushed natives.
This is a movie I wasn't necessarily eager to see, since I'd seen it at least a couple times before, but I totally enjoyed watching it. I think I'd be happy to watch it again, especially if I had some time to learn a little Spanish. There are several scenes with lines in Spanish, and one or two that are entirely in Spanish; there are no subtitles, although occasionally an English-speaking character will help us out by translating.
Here's an example (one of many) of a movie I've seen multiple times before, but never really watched. I noticed my memory of the plot started fading after the famous "badges" scene. I guess I fell asleep.
This is a movie with a great plot and story at its heart, but it excels because of the details and the great characters throughout. Most memorable, perhaps, is the Mexican bandito who laughs too much and really hates badges. But I'd never realized that the American at the beginning of the film, who Bogart hits up three times for a handout, is played by John Huston (who I remember mainly as the creepy old evil tycoon from Chinatown), son of Walter Huston, who plays the cheerful old prospector Howard.
The movie centers on the development of Humphrey Bogart's character, Dobbs. The theme of money is established in the first scene, where Dobbs tears up a losing lottery ticket. From there we see Dobbs begging for change, working as a laborer, then beating up a boss who cheated him out of his pay, and finally contemplating murder as a way of hanging on to the riches he's managed to obtain.
By transitioning from a sympathetic to pitiable character, Bogart transitions from seeming protagonist to antagonist. Having slept through the end of the movie last time, I never realized that the actual protagonist of the movie is the third prospector, Curtain, played by Tim Holt. Of course, it doesn't help that Holt's portrayal is kind of forgettable. And none of the three leads is entirely pious anyway. All three agree to murder a stranger who finds out about their illegal gold mining operation; the only difference among the three is the degree to which they display some amount of visible hesitancy when it comes time to draw their guns. When Dobbs is trapped in the mine during a cave-in, Curtain seems to hesitate a moment, as if contemplating leaving Dobbs alone to die, before rushing in to help him. But as the movie progresses we are shown the moral side of Curtain (who vows to contribute a share of his fortune to the widow of the dead prospector) and Howard (who risks his gold to save a dying Indian child, demonstrating not only his willingness to help others, but also to trust his colleagues). Howard's trip to the Indian village leads to an almost surreal scene in which he raises and lowers the arms of the drowned child before a crowd of hushed natives.
This is a movie I wasn't necessarily eager to see, since I'd seen it at least a couple times before, but I totally enjoyed watching it. I think I'd be happy to watch it again, especially if I had some time to learn a little Spanish. There are several scenes with lines in Spanish, and one or two that are entirely in Spanish; there are no subtitles, although occasionally an English-speaking character will help us out by translating.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Sullivan's Travels (1941)
Terry's Grade: A-
After sitting through the two Marx Brothers movies on the 100 Years list, I wasn't really looking forward to another black-and-white comedy. I'd read some description of this movie somewhere, but I really wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. In Roger Ebert's review of Forrest Gump (which I happened to see half of last night, not by my own choice) he isn't quite sure how to describe the film:
I liked this movie a lot more than I expected to, and I think I would have liked it even if I'd had higher expectations. It's epic without being long, and the film is really made in the final act. The happy ending is fully expected and it works because this is a movie about movies, and there's no question (at least in 1941) that movies (both comedies and dramas) have happy endings.
The ending of the movie hinges on an unapologetic faith in the fact that celebrities get favorable treatment in the courts, which is kind of funny (or sad). These days people get upset about the fact that Lindsay Lohan only serves four hours out of a 30-day jail sentence, and there seems to be a general sense that even though celebrities get special treatment, they really shouldn't. In Sullivan's Travels, it's a universal truth that celebrities not only get special treatment, they deserve it.
A movie from different times, definitely, but very interesting and entertaining to watch. I'm not an expert on 40's cinema, so I've never heard of either of the leads before, but they're pretty to look at. Sullivan is played by Joel McCrea, and his love interest (whose character is actually named "The Girl"!) is played by Veronica Lake. Sullivan's two servants are hilarious, as is the entire troupe that follows him in a decked-out trailer (did it have a cell phone? in 1941?) on the road at the start of his journey.
I think this movie worked so well for me because I was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt; any time it felt cliched or overdone, I just assumed that was the film giving the nod to the filmmaking conventions of the day.
Also worth noting is that Sullivan works on a script called "O Brother Where Art Thou?" which is of course the inspiration not only for the title but also for parts of the story and feel of the Coen brothers' film.
After sitting through the two Marx Brothers movies on the 100 Years list, I wasn't really looking forward to another black-and-white comedy. I'd read some description of this movie somewhere, but I really wasn't prepared for what I was about to see. In Roger Ebert's review of Forrest Gump (which I happened to see half of last night, not by my own choice) he isn't quite sure how to describe the film:
I've never met anyone like Forrest Gump in a movie before, and for that matter I've never seen a movie quite like "Forrest Gump." Any attempt to describe him will risk making the movie seem more conventional than it is, but let me try. It's a comedy, I guess. Or maybe a drama. Or a dream."Sullivan's Travels" isn't as genre-defying as Forrest Gump (or maybe it is: it's hard for me to tell, and it's hard for me to imagine how this movie would have been perceived in 1941), but it definitely walks a line between comedy and drama. The message of the movie is echoed in its execution. It's a movie about a film director (Sullivan) who sets out to make an epic about poverty for the masses, but ultimately realizes that the masses would probably rather watch a comedy that makes them laugh than an epic that reminds them how much their lives suck. And similarly the movie itself seems fundamentally structured like a comedy but crosses into drama at points, at will.
I liked this movie a lot more than I expected to, and I think I would have liked it even if I'd had higher expectations. It's epic without being long, and the film is really made in the final act. The happy ending is fully expected and it works because this is a movie about movies, and there's no question (at least in 1941) that movies (both comedies and dramas) have happy endings.
The ending of the movie hinges on an unapologetic faith in the fact that celebrities get favorable treatment in the courts, which is kind of funny (or sad). These days people get upset about the fact that Lindsay Lohan only serves four hours out of a 30-day jail sentence, and there seems to be a general sense that even though celebrities get special treatment, they really shouldn't. In Sullivan's Travels, it's a universal truth that celebrities not only get special treatment, they deserve it.
A movie from different times, definitely, but very interesting and entertaining to watch. I'm not an expert on 40's cinema, so I've never heard of either of the leads before, but they're pretty to look at. Sullivan is played by Joel McCrea, and his love interest (whose character is actually named "The Girl"!) is played by Veronica Lake. Sullivan's two servants are hilarious, as is the entire troupe that follows him in a decked-out trailer (did it have a cell phone? in 1941?) on the road at the start of his journey.
I think this movie worked so well for me because I was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt; any time it felt cliched or overdone, I just assumed that was the film giving the nod to the filmmaking conventions of the day.
Also worth noting is that Sullivan works on a script called "O Brother Where Art Thou?" which is of course the inspiration not only for the title but also for parts of the story and feel of the Coen brothers' film.
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