TCM WATCH: STEWART, O’HARA AND CRAWFORD

Yeah, so I’m late again. Big deal. This weekend is turning into a bit of a nightmare even as it’s actually supposed to be fun. In just a couple hours I’m getting on a “party bus” for a bachelor party, and apparently I’m not being allowed to get home until 6 AM tomorrow. Oy. There’s just not enough time in the day.

Obviously that also means I’m not allowed to enjoy Jimmy Stewart day (which becomes Stewart-Hitchcock night) on Turner Classic Movies, not that I really should be watching movies right now anyway with all I suddenly have to do, but that’s another story.

So this is brief: after the jump, reprints of capsules on Stewart, Maureen O’Hara and Joan Crawford, which should keep your eyes glued to the TV through Monday.

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THE WEEKEND IN PRE… RE …: AW SCREW IT

So yeah, I said I’d have this weekly thing up before my head hit the pillow yesterday, but that was just impossible. For one thing, my head never actually hit the pillow yesterday as I didn’t get home until 2 AM this morning. Then, after finally getting some much-needed sleep, I’ve been busy trying to organize myself for the next three weeks during which I have to concentrate not only on my continuing long-term job hunt and start my apartment search, but also finish FringeNYC coverage, do another set of Gothamist Interviews, keep trying to write on this blog regularly the things I really mean to write, and now work on this event for which I’ve been hired part-time to coordinate volunteers and press. When the hell am I going to see any movies?!?!

Thankfully, I’ve already seen (and loved) The 40 Year-Old Virgin (which should take home the top box office spot; my guess? $29 million) and The Constant Gardner which opens next weekend, but there’s still too much to see. Unfortunately, I just don’t have time today to go into detail about everything, and besides, by this time on Saturday, who cares and who’s going to read it anyway. But I keep doing this preview now for two reasons: To force myself to do something like this regularly (even, I suppose if it’s not on time), and second to make sure that I know what the hell is out there. So if you keep reading, here’s some briefs about that’s up this week. The rep houses, as usual, are chock-full of good offerings, but I may have to finish that in another post tomorrow. (sigh)

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SAD NEWS IN THE FILM BLOGOSPHERE — RIP GEORGE

Wow. That’s upsetting news to wake-up to today: George Fasel, who wrote the very smart critical film blog A Girl and a Gun passed away this week on Wednesday after an apparently long battle with cancer. His wife Ruth posted the news on his blog this morning.

I didn’t know George — had never met or spoken with him — and I would often disagree with some of his opinions, but nobody expressed a love, appreciation and knowledge for cinema better or more eloquently than he did. A pretty decent education in cinema studies could probably be acquired simply by reading through George’s archives. His writing will be sorely missed. Thanks George for sharing a little bit of your expertise with the rest of us. My condolences to his family and loved ones.

THIS IS NOT A MUSIC BLOG BUT … KNOW YOUR SUFJAN PEP THEME OR ELSE!

050820_sufjanstevens1Sufjan Stevens’ first of five sold-out shows tonight at Bowery Ballroom was an fantastic and fun. Stevens and his enormous band of Illinoise Makers bring the music, especially from Stevens most recent album “Illinois” but unfortunately, nobody knew in advance that as part of Illinois Spirit Week, each performance has a different theme. Tonight was backwards night, but how were we supposed to know that the ghost of Kriss Kross was supposed to possess us all and wear our clothes backwards? But I’m here to help the rest of you who plan to go to one of the next four shows. Here it your advance warning, so you better show your spirit by following orders. I mean, just look at how much spirit Stevens and his enormous band the Illinoise Makers had! They even did incredible cheers before many of the songs while wearing the colors of the Fighting Illini!

050820_sufjanstevens3

So with that in mind, here’s the breakdown of what you need to do to show your spirit when you head to the show:

Continue reading “THIS IS NOT A MUSIC BLOG BUT … KNOW YOUR SUFJAN PEP THEME OR ELSE!”

THE FRINGE GOES ON

Oh my … have I fallen behind. And suddenly I find myself thrown into this huge project which will certainly take away from the attention I would otherwise be paying to things like posting regularly irregularly, as I tend to do. Take my weekend film preview for example. Oh yes … it’s coming. At some point before I lay my head on a pillow today, it’s coming I swear.

But meanwhile, I’ve got three more reviews of Fringe shows plus some previews for other things to see this weekend up over at Gothamist. Go see why I can’t whole-heartedly endorse nor dismiss Fluffy Bunnies in a Field of Daisies, Go-Go Kitty, Go! nor Weight, although the latter two are more interesting choices than the fairly generic sitcom fare of the former. Really, just make sure you check-out The Salacious Uncle Baldrick which plays for the last time tomorrow at 2 PM.

Be back later … I hope.

WHO SHOULD GET FIRED FOR THIS?

050818ew_must_listOK, probably nobody because it’s not that serious, but really, if a major entertainment publication like Entertainment Weekly can’t get a simple email right nor give actually good suggestions on what people “must” see/read/listen to.

Take today’s “Must List” email for example, their little teaser of what will appear in the issue hitting newsstands tomorrow or Saturday or whenever the hell it actually does. (My subscription comes any time between Friday and Tuesday. Yay US Mail!) Now I’m sure they got two-and-two put together for the web site and the magazine, but when you send an email out to however many thousands of website-registered-readers as get this one, proofread, people. Proofread:

DVD: “KUNG FU HUSTLE” – The HBO drama goes ungently into that dark night — and rediscovers how it once made black comedy out of death and dysfunction.

No, no, you’re not misreading. Someone managed to put a description of Six Feet Under under the heading of Kung Fu Hustle, a recent Hong Kong action comedy which obviously has much in common with HBO’s departing family drama. (Meanwhile, if one clicks on a link in the email, one can see “an illustrated version” which looks like this. Notice, they’ve fixed the mistake. Good for them to notice.)

Then, because having one HBO series on the “Must List” obviously isn’t enough, EW tries to convince people that The Comeback — the worst series to hit that network since The Mind of the Married Man — is worth watching for any reason. It’s not, and having actually for some ridiculous reason subjugated myself to every episode in the hopes that it might, just might, get better, I feel I’m thoroughly qualified to say that. To admit that it’s potentially bad — “Love it or hate it” — is a bad start. To say that Lisa Kudrow — who I generally like — gives “one of the best performances of the year,” is simply ludicrous. Aside from the fact that the show is simply not funny nor credible for numerous reasons, Kudrow’s portrayal of former TV sitcom It-Girl Valerie Cherish is downright annoying. The show is all Kudrow, all the time. If her performance was so damn good, fewer people would be tuning out after finishing with Entourage

Hmmm … could EW, related to HBO through mutual mommy Time Warner be doing its cable sibling a solid? Nah, of course not.

MISCELLANEOUS MISCELLANY: THOUGHTS, LINKS AND OTHER CRAP

Well, I finally have a job … sort of. I mean, it is a job, but it’s technically part-time and it only lasts until September 16, which means that even as I’m doing this job, I will continue job-hunting. Not to mention now, apartment hunting. And maybe one of these days soon, I’ll actually get all personal and shit and write the big long post that is a combined expression of frustration and big screeching cry of, “HELP!”

But not right now. Still, some work is better than no work, and hopefully one of the other, more-permanent things I’ve got on the lukewarm hot plate (I wouldn’t want to call it a back-, side- or front-burner) will come through and get me going come mid-September. For now, I must refrain from taking stupid 8-10 hour Fred & Ginger breaks and really focus on organizing my shit and actually being productive with all the things I’m trying to juggle. To get all Franklin-Covey on your ass: managing the “important and urgent,” the “important but not urgent,” the “unimportant but necessary and urgent” and even the “unimportant but necessary but not urgent.”

To show how magnificently I manage my time per the above categories, I now present you with some examples of my stupidly paying the most attention to the last of those:

  • The New York Film Festival has announced the full line-up for the 43rd edition running from Sept. 23 through Oct. 9, and happy frigging birthday to me! (OK, my birthday is actually a couple days before the fest, but … oh wait … Happy birthday to Lily!) What an amazing looking lineup, even if there are, surprisingly, no Latin American entries. I’m not sure how the hell I’ll figure out how to get to everything I’m going to want to, but I’ll have to try. I won’t bother highlighting the highlights — there are so many. As usual, indieWIRE has a great overview. And if you’re Asian-cinema-dumb like me (meaning you love it but still don’t really know enough about it) you will want to check-out resident expert Filmbrain’s take on the lineup. He seems relatively giddy.

  • I was super-excited to read that FX has re-upped Morgan Spurlock’s show 30 Days for another season. I had my doubts about the show before seeing it because while I enjoyed Super Size Me, I didn’t think it was actually that great a film, and the thought of seeing Spurlock repeatedly do similar experiments sounded tiring. But the fact is, 30 Days is absolutely perfect television fodder in the “serious” reality show mode, and Spurlock, while involved in every episode on a narrative level, was only the actual participant in the first episode. I saw five of the six episodes, and with one exception (the very last one where a mother decides to become a “binge drinker” to help teach her daughter why that’s bad — it kind of didn’t work, it in the episode or for me), each episode was very good-to-excellent. The show’s potential flaw, however, is in the casting, most exemplified in another episode where two city-dweller/club-goers went to live for a month in a self-sustaining “green” community — meaning they sustain themselves with all natural, biodegradable products and even manufacture their own power; no outside electricity, gas or water is utilized. The two subjects really weren’t open enough to the experience, and that made this episode another experiment that almost didn’t work.

    Still, the premise of the show is fantastic and really not tired at all as long as the subject matter and people involved are interesting. I was sad to see there had only been six episodes produced because I looked forward to it each week, and it’s good to know it’s coming back. Now if only MTV would also get to making more episodes of MADE — but that’s for another post.

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ALL STEVE CARELL, ALL THE TIME, AND WE’RE GOOD WITH THAT

050817_40yroldvirginThis is obviously Steve Carell week in the world of entertainment. Monday night, Carell appeared as a guest — no longer a correspondent — on The Daily Show, in an interview that was simultaneously hilarious and sweet while also probably maintaining the lowest word count of any Jon Stewart interview ever. Tonight, NBC presents a four-episode marathon of the Americanized The Office for which I am ever so grateful as all my recorded episodes were lost when they got bumped off my DiVo during Tribeca. And to cap it off, Friday marks the opening of Carell’s first film in which he’s the primary focus and star: The 40 Year-Old Virgin, hands down one of the funniest movies (if not the!) you’ll see this year.

I got to catch an advance screening of the film about a few weeks ago, and while I had been looking forward to it, I walked out of the theater having enjoyed it much more than anticipated. Although a fair amount of credit certainly goes to writer/director Judd Apatow and a great supporting cast featuring Paul Rudd and the she-gets-better-and-hotter-as-she-gets-older Catherine Keener, this film would not be half as successful as it turns out to be were it not for the presence of Carell. He manages to instill a sweetness and innocence in the character that none of the other big comedy stars today can manage so perfectly. I love Will Farrell, but in this role, he would have been a disaster.

Carell had already been a scene-stealer in films like Anchorman and Bruce Almighty, and he was likely the best of the original Daily Show correspondents presenting a straight-faced, deadpan, yet usually outrageous situation while actually always looking like a real news correspondent. (As much as I love all four of the correspondents on the show, only Stephen Colbert really manages to do create the exact seem effect as Carell always did). But any doubts regarding whether or not he could carry an entire picture on his shoulders should be erased now.

One of the most amazing things about this film is that even though some of the funniest sequences are in the movie trailer we’ve all seen 100 times by now, these same scenes are even funnier in their full final versions. I knew what was coming throughout the chest waxing scene, yet it’s put together so perfectly that I still found myself doubled over in pain from laughter. (Strangely enough, however, I can’t remember another movie in which I noticed so many shots from the trailer that were actually missing from the final picture. I don’t think what I saw was the final release cut, but I’d be pretty certain the picture had been locked, or at least only minor edits remained, and I can’t imagine they would involve re-inserting scenes. If the movie has any flaws, it could still be a little bit tighter with the pacing starting to drag a bit as it approaches the end.)

It really wouldn’t be fair to go into specifics. Suffice it to say, neither Wedding Crashers nor The Aristocrats has anything on The 40 Year-Old Virgin. If you want to laugh this weekend, along with trying to get to the last Fringe performance of The Salacious Uncle Baldrick, be sure to go see Carell as he catapults himself into the top tier of comedy movie stars. Really, he’s likely the best of the lot.

MORE FROM THE FRINGE: DON’T MISS BEING SALACIOUS

I’ve been to three more shows at FringeNYC, and my Gothamist theatre cohort Mallory has posted another set of reviews today, including one from yours truly about a show you absolutely must not miss but don’t have that many opportunities left to see.

The Salacious Uncle Baldrick is one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time. It’s a hilarious satire of 17th Century French farce with a modern sensibility. There were literally moments in this show that I couldn’t stop laughing no matter how hard I tried. The writing is clever, the cast is fantastic — and there are only two performances left, tomorrow and Saturday. The show I was at last night definitely still had tickets left, so I imagine the next two do as well, so check-it-out.

And credit goes to whom it’s due: with over 180 shows and limited time, as much as I’ve been trying to see a lot (10 shows in four days so far), I obviously had to pick-and-choose things that I felt either seemed promising, interesting or representative of the type of theatre the Fringe tries to promote. I don’t know that I would have chosen to see The Salacious Uncle Baldrick had it not been for this post by Bex. She knows her funny!

(The Gothamist post also includes reviews by Mallory of Amerika, The Metaphysics of Breakfast, The Suffrajets Present a Musical Seance and her own “Don’t Miss” pick, God’s Waiting Room.)

ASTAIRE AND TCM FORCE FURTHER PROCRASTINATION — NOT A VIRTUE FOR THE UNEMPLOYED

050816_fredandgingerboxstSo as I was writing the “TCM Watch” post below, I turned on the end of The Gay Divorcee which was showing as part of Fred Astaire Day. Well that was a mistake. Next thing I know, it was 2 AM and I had gotten nothing done (other than putting away the Fresh Direct delivery and making some dinner — but hey, that’s what the pause button on a DiVo is for) but watch four magnificent Fred AstaireGinger Rogers dance-musical extravaganzas: The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle, Top Hat, Swing Time and Shall We Dance. As it is, I had to force myself to turn off The Barkleys of Broadway, the last Fred & Ginger collaboration and the only one shot in color. (I did record it though because I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it.) And now, finally, five of their films are being released today on DVD as part of the “Astaire & Rogers Collection, Vol. 1”: Top Hat, Swing Time, Follow the Fleet, Shall We Dance and The Barkleys of Broadway.

I hadn’t actually sat through an entire Astaire-Rogers dancefest in quite a while, but it’s so easy to get lost in them. Sure the stories are virtually all identical — boy meets girl, falls in love, there’s a misunderstanding and girl tries to ditch boy, boy dances his way back into her heart, and they live happily ever after. (With the exception of The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle which is unique among their films in having a somewhat sad ending that does not involve the young lovers coming together to get married; of course, this is because the Castles were a real couple — one might even say the Nick & Jessica or Bennifer of their time, except talented — with women modeling their hair and fashion after whatever Irene did. But then Vernon died during a routine training flight as part of his service in World War I.) But the simplicity of the stories is part of their charm. Nine of their 10 films together were made between 1934 and 1939, a time when World War I was still just “The Great War,” the Great Depression was in recession thanks to the New Deal, and World War II, much less American involvement in it, was just starting to simmer. It was a time when because of everything the country had gone through the previous two decades, frivolity was what they wanted even needed from their entertainment. Throw in the tremendous music from the likes of Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, George Gershwin and Jerome Kern, and you get these marvelous light, frothy, fun, and even magical musicals featuring two of the greatest dancers to ever grace the stage or screen. It’s amazing, in fact, to remember how many old popular jazz standards that people might even recognize today came from these movies such as “Top Hat” and “Isn’t This a Lovely Day (to Be Caught in the Rain)” from Top Hat, “The Way You Look Tonight” and “Pick Yourself Up” from Swing Time, and “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off” (the tomAYto-tomAHto song) and “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” from Shall We Dance

050816_fredandgingerAstaire always manages to make every step and move look so easy. He’s graceful and elegant, and even when he’s tapping with ferocity, he still somehow appears to float a millimeter above the floor. Rogers always manages to match him step-for-step, and as I’ve often heard it said by those who think Rogers was overshadowed by her dance partner, she had the harder job; she had to do all the same steps, just often backwards. There’s the standard Astaire-Rogers move of finishing a dance by simply exiting stage left and completely leaving frame, such as when Astaire saves Rogers’ job as a dance instructor in Swing Time; or switched up slightly in the magnificent roller-skating number in Shall We Dance. And never has dance been such an effective metaphor for sex than in what are really numerous love scenes performed by this couple. (There’s the great moment in Top Hat when Rogers actually describes their previous dance as them have “made love” together.) At the very end of Top Hat as the couple has just gotten married, they twirl off screen as the picture fades to black so fast and furious, you can’t help but wonder how they’re not tripping over each other (although it almost look like Rogers almost does at one point), but they’re so in synch, and its an even more effective representation of their passion than most modern loud, fast, colorful, sweaty sex scenes. (Uhm, not that there’s anything wrong with those either.)

The final dance in Shall We Dance contains some marvelous dance-consummating-the-relationship elements too. Rogers has come to see Astaire’s performance to serve him with divorce papers, only to discover that since he doesn’t want to dance with anyone else, he has all the female dancers on stage wearing a mask of her face. She runs backstage and puts on one of the masks herself, in the middle of the number giving him an audible clue that she’s there. He begins unmasking the dancers one-by-one until he reaches Rogers. She comes center stage with him as the rest of the dancers leave the two of them alone to their version of the bedroom, and they proceed to spin and fly around the stage, finishing their dance (and the whole film) in an orgiastic ta-da right out to the audience (and directly into the camera) as they sing about how nobody thought they’d end up together.

Oh sure, modern critical thinking might ask, “Uhm, how does Ginger always know all the steps Fred is about to make? Like the whole mask thing? She obviously wasn’t there for rehearsal.” Yeah, whatever. This is a world of romance 70 years removed from today. It’s a world where if one said “dinner jacket,” one would know that meant a tuxedo. These days, I’m not wearing a tux unless I’m in a wedding or going to an awards show, and thankfully, I haven’t had to do too much of either.

I know I sound nostalgic about all this and to a degree I am while simultaneously feeling the opposite. I wouldn’t want to live in the 1930s (although I’d love to visit). For all the magic and romance, this was still a closed and segregated time in our society and country. These films were as extravagant as they were specifically because it would give the audience something it didn’t know or have. Astaire starts Swing Time riding the rails to New York and arriving with nothing but his lucky quarter, yet somehow able to connive his way into a pretty nice apartment and the necessary dinner jacket. This same film, made in 1936, also features a number called “Bojangles in Harlem” where Astaire dances in blackface, and in Shall We Dance he does a full number in a cruise ships steam room entertaining the below decks crew which is noticeably all black, smiling and singing songs.

Still, it was jarring as I watched these films to realize that as I sit on the verge of 34 (t-minus 47 days), Astaire was that same age when he and Rogers appeared together for the first time in Flying Down to Rio. But I’m not as old as Fred Astaire. That’s impossible. Astaire is one of those actors who always seemed older because no matter how rakish his character may be, he was always an adult, always a gentleman, always a romantic.

There won’t ever be another pairing like Fred & Ginger. You simply couldn’t make movies like this anymore: the audience would be bored. It’s hard enough to make a successful (and good) movie musical now. One that centered around tap, swing and ballroom dancing? Forget about it. But thankfully, the wonderful thing about movies that give them a slight advantage over the live performing arts like theatre, ballet and opera is that we can always re-experience them in roughly the form they were originally intended. Maybe not always in a big movie palace, but at least its images on a screen. A videotaped play isn’t the same because good theatre actually depends on the organic interaction between performance and audience being in the same live space together. That’s obviously not a problem for film, and every now and then, one can find oneself caught up in a marathon of classics like the films in “Astaire & Rogers Collection, Vol. 1”. Thanks a lot TCM.