Out of Focus

Have you ever seen Imitation of Life? It was a 1959 Douglas Sirk melodrama starring Lana Turner, Sandra Dee and Juanita Moore. It’s a really great movie, even if some of its dramatic moments seem a bit corny by modern standards. But Sirk was the master of the ’50s melodrama, and you may be slightly more familiar with him than you think since the fantastic 2002 Todd Haynes film Far From Heaven was at the very least inspired by and adapted from another Sirk film, All That Heaven Allows. But that’s not important right now.

Imitation of Life focused on issues that weren’t really discussed in late-’50s America. The story is about an aspiring actress and single mother named Lora (Turner) struggling to get by who meets an even more unlucky black single mother named Annie (Moore) whose daughter is so fair, most people would think she’s white. Annie convinces Lora to let her work as a housekeeper and nanny, giving Lora more time to pursue her acting career. The older women become the closest of friends – like sisters – even as Lora finally does get her big break and become successful. The two young daughters also formulate a sibling relationship, but Sarah Jane, Annie’s daughter, is always very conscious of her “place,” and as she gets older, she becomes more-and-more interested in hiding the truth about her mother and background, choosing instead to ignore the truth and pass for white. At least, that’s the set-up and a bit of the plot. Since this is a ’50s melodrama, it of course has a very sad, tearjerking ending. It’s also a great movie, and if you’ve never seen it, you should absolutely consider renting it sometime soon. Especially if you’re looking for a good cry. (In fact, the DVD includes both Sirk’s version and an earlier film — both were adapted from the same novel — that’s interesting but also very different in the actual story it tells. Especially fascinating is to see how the conversation about race changed — as well as how it didn’t — over the 25 years from the first film to the second. Sirk’s later version is also much grander and more opulent than the earlier film, a characteristic that itself tells a lot about the difference between many early-’30s and late-’50s films.)

What the hell does this have to do with Fox’s great teen soap The O.C., you ask? Based on last week’s episode, a lot actually.

Continue reading “WHY THE O.C. IS SMARTER THAN THE AVERAGE BEAR (AND TEEN SOAP)”

I admit it: this is the one I’ve been waiting for. As I’ve expressed previously on this blog, I am a huge fan of Avenue Q. The only people more excited than I when the show won this past year’s big Tony awards were those who actually created and worked on the show. So I’m sure you can understand why I was surprised but ecstatic a few months ago when I received an email from Jeff Marx who, with his partner Robert Lopez, created the show. It seems that Jeff had run across one of my posts from around Tony time, and he wanted to thank me for the support.

It so happened that before getting this email, I had said to Lily, “You know what would be really great? If we could do a Gothamist interview the guys who wrote Avenue Q.” So when I replied to Jeff, I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Amazingly, he accepted with barely any sales pitch from me. Fortunately for Jeff and Bobby, they’re in such demand right now that we weren’t able to get the interview done for our November interviews. Fortunately for us, they’re nice enough to not back out, and today you can read the results.

We asked Jeff and Bobby a lot of questions, and they took the time to answer everything in so much detail — even though we couldn’t use absolutely everything, their interview is still a long, detailed and really interesting read. They talk about how they became writing partners, where the show came from and their Cinderella-story ascent from workshop to Tony winners, all utilizing foul-mouthed puppets and honoring the “patron saint of life sucking,” Gary Coleman! The one thing I’m sure of – it sure as hell no longer sucks to be them.

If you live in New York and haven’t actually seen Avenue Q, what the hell are you waiting for? There really isn’t a better, funnier, more creative show on Broadway, and it will have you humming for days. Go see it … now. It really was better than Cats. I want to see it again and again. (Rinse and repeat!) But since it doesn’t play until the evening anyway, take some time right now to read their interview.

Wow, my love letter to Brian De Palma seems to have attracted a few interesting comments that I feel elicit some response. Where to begin …

First of all, Ed said that I shouldn’t judge De Palma on a moment. Just to be clear, my little story about him snubbing me has no impact on the type of movie I think he’ll make. My experience with De Palma did not make me like his earlier films any less nor his more recent films any more. But how can I judge a man treating a fan in a moment? Quite simply. I’m not saying he’s generally a bad person, but he’s obviously not a generous person, at least to his fans. The easiest thing in the world in that kind of situation is not to make a fan feel like an ass, don’t you think? Still, my whole purpose for telling the story was more for simple literary effect. I don’t actually believe that this moment had any impact on Mr. De Palma or that he has a vendetta against me. And I actually find it hard to believe that anyone might read my little blog post in such a serious way.

Continue reading “WALTZING DE PALMA: A COMMENT ON THE COMMENTS”

I was sick all day yesterday, which is why I was M.I.A. from posting other than about the interview. However, I had to take the chance to mention that the final week of Film Forum’s excellent “Essential Noir” series begins today and includes some of the best films ever called film noir. Today and tomorrow includes a double-feature of Sweet Smell of Success and Touch of Evil followed on Sunday and Monday by the tandem Shadow of a Doubt and Out of the Past.

Again, each of these films easily fit the “essential” requirement named in the title of this series. Sweet Smell of Success has one of the most well-constructed scripts that’s ever been filmed. While much of the dialogue might seem a bit corny to a 21st century audience, the overall film remains a biting dark satire of fame, power, gossip and publicity. Burt Lancaster gives one of his most brilliant performances as the Walter Winchell-like gossip columnist J.J. Hunsecker, and Tony Curtis is excellent as an unscrupulous press agent who becomes Hunsecker’s lacky in order to get his clients into the writer’s column. Aside from a wonderful script, Sweet Smell of Success features some beautiful black and white photography, perfectly capturing the bright lights of Broadway in the ’50s, back during a time when the theater district was less about tourism and more about the best nightlife the city had to offer. If you’re addicted to Gawker, “Page 6” or Rush & Molloy, Sweet Smell of Success is definitely a must-see.

Touch of Evil is a different kind of film that like Sweet Smell of Success comes from the end of the heyday of the noir style. In fact, many people consider Orson Welles’ great picture the last of the real noirs — the mark of the end of an era. It shares a theme of corrupted power and power corrupting that exists in Sweet Smell of Success but is set in a very different environment, namely the Mexican-U.S. border where Mexican narcotics officer Charlton Heston goes head-to-head with corrupt American cop Welles, only to get himself and his new bride Janet Leigh into a mess of trouble. The film’s opening includes one of the most famous single long tracking shots in history, jarred from its consistency by a car explosion that kicks-off the story. If you’ve never seen Touch of Evil, I don’t want to say any more because you should just go see it and be surprised. If you’ve already seen it, you know its worth multiple viewings, and as always, watching a film like this, with its stunning photography by Russell Metty, projected is always a treat.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt is one of his most famous and popular thrillers, and rightly so. It is, however, one of the few films in this series that I consider fringe noir at best. That’s not a criticism of the film whatsoever. Shadow of a Doubt is one of the most exciting thrillers of its era. It is a film that helped define the term “Hitchcockian,” and ranks up there among his best films. But it doesn’t really deal with the ambiguous moral choices between good and evil inherent in all the best noirs. In this film, there is a very specific bad guy, and the fact that he masquerades himself as a jolly, likable man who loves his family, hiding in small town mundane middle America doesn’t really makes it more of a conventional thriller. While it does produce a sense of ever-present danger present among an otherwise idyllic world and therefore contains elements of noir, Shadow of a Doubt (made in 1943) is more important for how it influenced later films of this style than for its actual place among them.

Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past is as close as you can get to the perfect noir. Along with Double Indemnity, it’s my favorite noir and, at least in my opinion, one of the few films that should be considered as the standard against which all other noirs are based. With absolute stunning photography from Nicholas Musuraca and brilliant performances from Robert Mitchum, Kirk Douglas and Jane Greer, this is possibly the greatest treatment ever of a man simply being unable to escape the mistakes of his past, no matter how far he runs or how deep he hides. Greer plays the ultimate femme fatale with Douglas portraying the rich, suave, always smiling heavy. But it’s Mitchum who dazzles as the always conflicted Jeff. Every move he makes throughout the entire film is completed with a knowledge that everything will turn out wrong. He acts without fear because he simply does all he can to escape his situation even though he’s resigned to the worst. But he keeps trying to escape the trap set for him by Douglas, even though there’s no way out. Ultimately, he’s the only honorable character in the film, albeit one who made plenty of bad choices; decisions that alone pushed him towards his final predicament.

I can rave forever about Out of the Past, but doing so would simply give away too much of this brilliant film. If there are films in this series that deserve the term “essential” more than others, Out of the Past ranks near or at the top of it. Do yourself a favor and catch it projected on a big (well it’s Film Forum, so big-ish!) screen while you can.

When we were trying to determine how to create our now patented diverse lineup of Gothamist Interview subjects, Lily said to me, “What do you think of using a Getty photographer.” Meaning, a person who takes pictures for Getty Images, one of the largest photography companies in the world. I thought it was a great idea. The person she wanted to ask, Scott Gries, was a photographer she knew from covering a lot of big movie premieres, so we both figured he’d have a lot of insight into celebrity photographs and the paparazzi, especially having to deal with some of the more scummy stalkerazzi while he’s trying to take photos for a legitimate service.

What I don’t think either of us expected was to receive what may not be our most informative interview but is possibly the most entertaining. Scott is a very funny guy who doesn’t seem to take his work, or himself, too seriously. So check out his interview. Chances are, it’ll give you a chuckle.

So last night was the final culmination of a decade-plus desire of mine – to finally see the Pixies live. The four older people (they don’t look quite like this photo anymore — all the guys’ heads are shaved bald and Frank Black is more portly than ever) up on stage at Hammerstein still manage to rock pretty hard, but as the Thigh Master mentioned yesterday, their stage presence is pretty much non-existent with the exception of a small bit here or there and Joey Santiago’s extended guitar/pedal exhibition. It’s a blast to hear all those songs, and most of the time they’re as fast and loud and energetic as ever.

Still, after the Guided By Voices show last week and Ted Leo Saturday night, I was actually a little bit disappointed. Of course, I attribute a great deal of that to the relative hell of Hammerstein Ballroom (at least compared to Irving Plaza and Bowery Ballroom). The sound was pretty muddy all night long, and the mic levels on both the Pixies and their opening band Broken Social Scene were way too low. The cavernous inside of Hammerstein just made the loud music (especially the heavy bass rhythms) echo and reverberate even when the floor and both balconies were jam packed with people. And we were right in the middle of the open sardine can known as the main floor. We should have had really good positioning, not too far from the stage at all, but unlike almost any smaller venue, it was still difficult to see the people on stage (which should be at least a foot higher).

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t regret going or anything, and hearing live versions of “Debaser,” “Mr. Grieves,” “Gigantic,” “Tame,” “Monkey Gone to Heaven,” “Wave of Mutilation” (slow and fast), “U-Mass,” “Bone Machine” and others (strangely no “Into the White” which I’ve heard on recordings from other shows on this tour) was great. But between their very workmanlike progression through all the songs (they played for about 90 minutes which just flew by) and the discomfort level of not always being able to see even from just 20 feet away from the stage, it wasn’t the absolute best evening.

Something kind of funny happened earlier though….

Continue reading “WE’RE OBVIOUSLY NOT WITH THE BAND”

Brian De Palma hates me. I’ve determined that is the only explanation for why he is slowly ripping out my heart and giving me an extreme migraine. I’m pretty sure I’ve alluded to this once or twice before (but I’m not going to go search for it), but James Ellroy’s The Black Dahlia is one of my all-time favorite books. In my own little fantasy world of being a filmmaker, adapting The Black Dahlia to the big screen has been my dream project ever since I first read the book sometime around 1990. Discovering Ellroy and this novel was a virtual accident. I walked into a Waldenbooks in San Francisco, was browsing the mystery titles and ran across the book cover pictured here. It’s the one and only time I’ve purchased a book in large part due to the cover art. That deco-stylized picture drew me in, and the description on the back sounded interesting enough, so I bought it. I read it. I loved it, later becoming obsessed with all things Ellroy and all things related to the real “Black Dahlia” murder case.

Of course, my story isn’t all that unique. “The Black Dahlia” murder remains one of the most famous and baffling unsolved murder cases in the history of Los Angeles and even the country. In Ellroy’s novel (which was the start of a series of ’40s and ’50s LA noir – including L.A. Confidential — novels that weren’t exactly sequels of each other but all existed in the same world and involved a few overlapping characters), two boxers-turned-cops best friends find their relationship become strained when they become embroiled in the murder case of Elizabeth Short, who before she was identified was called “The Black Dahlia.” Ellroy’s novel is fiction, but the details he uses about the “Black Dahlia” case are all based on his own obsessive research, a long-time venture for him due at least in part to his other attempts to solve the murder of his own mother, a search he writes about in My Dark Places. The Dahlia is just a catalyst for Ellroy’s story concerning the dangers of obsession as one of these cops in particular falls in love with the Dahlia as he investigates the case.

Elizabeth Short was that kind of figure, or at least photo. An unremarkable in life wannabe starlet, in death she became fascinating due to the gruesome and bizarre nature of her murder. (Her body was found in an empty lot, cut in two at the waist, completely disemboweled and cleaned so not a speck of blood was visible. There’s more, but you get the idea.) Just as main character Bucky Bleichert was instantly drawn to the Dahlia, I was drawn to the cover, which itself was little more than an altered version of the most famous photo of the living Elizabeth Short.

I know. By now you’re wondering what any of this has to do with Brian De Palma, and why I think he must hate me. Well, De Palma is in pre-production on a film version of The Black Dahlia. If that were all of it, I’d have problems, but I wouldn’t be having seizures. I was once an enormous fan of De Palma (more on that later). Many of his early films bordered on brilliant. He was heavily influenced by contemporary Italian cinema like that of horror-meister Dario Argento and neorealist turned European-mod master Michelangelo Antonioni. Of course, the influence of Alfred Hitchcock is the most apparent what with De Palma directing virtual remakes of Psycho (the phenomenal and underrated Dressed to Kill) and Rear Window and Vertigo (combined in the fantastic Body Double). His Carrie remains one of, if not the, best adaptations of any Stephen King novel. But De Palma truly hit his stride with The Untouchables and the criminally neglected Casualties of War (an extraordinary Vietnam War film that has been overlooked ever since its original release) before getting into trouble with Bonfire of the Vanities and then not being content to simply imitate Hitchcock but seemingly deciding to imitate himself imitating Hitchcock. He also decided to spend more time trying to work as a director-for-hire on huge budget films (the fun Mission: Impossible; the absolutely awful Mission to Mars) and less finding stories that fit his sensibilities.

But I digress.

Continue reading “WHO KNEW BRIAN DE PALMA HATED BEING A ROLE MODEL SO MUCH HE’D MAKE IT PERSONAL”

Today is the final day of Hannukah (at least until sundown), and in honor of my tribemates, Lily (an honorary Jew) and I present a Gothamist Interview today with a true Heeb. But Nancy Schwartzman is much more than simply the creative director of the great “New Jew Review” Heeb Magazine (wait, what did you think I was saying?); she’s also a filmmaker and an activist. Currently, she’s in the final stages of production on her documentary called A Woman Who Went Out, a film about Nancy’s trip back to Jerusalem to confront the man who raped her there four years ago. Recently, Nancy has also spent a lot of time and effort creating NYC-RapeMap.org, an organization and web site (currently focused on Williamsburg and Greenpoint, but planning to expand throughout all five burroughs of NYC) dedicated to helping women find safe routes of travel, know where violent attacks have occurred and create safe havens for women and pedestrians in local businesses around town.

Nancy was also the main creative voice behind Heeb’s fantastic satirical (and controversial) response to Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ when she directed a photo essay titled “Crimes of Passion” for the magazine’s February 2004 issue. How she finds time for all of it (and a day job) is beyond me. Give Nancy’s interview a read, and I’m sure you too will see what an intelligent, compassionate, driven and dedicated woman she is.

So much to write, so little time. I hope to respond to George as well as address the Golden Globe noms and the fact that Sideways seems to be sweeping the critics awards (maybe even later today), but for now, I actually have something that you’ll likely find far more interesting than my ramblings. It’s today’s Gothamist Interview. Whether or not you have a specific interest in urban planning and architecture, you probably will after reading our little Q&A with Shin-pei Tsay.

Shin-pei works for an organization called Project for Public Spaces. Rather than mangle a description of the great work they do and exactly what they mean by “placemaking,” you should just read the interview. (I will mention, however, that a recent story posted to the site listing the “20 Best Neighborhoods in North America” names our own East Village number two!) Shin-pei is possibly the most articulate and succinctly informative interview we’ve done (and considering the people who have chatted with us, that’s saying something). Personally, I find all her comments really interesting.

The next three days definitely include some major highlights for the continuing “Essential Noir” series at Film Forum. Today (for one day only) is a double-bill featuring one of the most iconic of all noir characters, Raymond Chandler’s great creation – private eye Philip Marlowe, and tomorrow and Thursday feature two films from the great director Fritz Lang.

If you’ve never seen neither The Big Sleep nor Murder, My Sweet, this is definitely a must-attend double-feature. Marlowe is our “hero” in both stories, and the performances by Humphrey Bogart and Dick Powell, respectively, are both very interesting. (Marlowe has been portrayed by many actors in many films throughout the years, but Bogart and Powell were the best.) When one thinks of Bogart, one basically thinks of Marlowe (at least when not picturing him as Sam Spade). He’s the tough-guy P.I., who’s a sucker for the lady but will ultimately always protect his own ass first. He basically moves forward without fear and maintains a personal honor that won’t allow anyone to take advantage of or make a fool of him. The Big Sleep, based on Chandler’s novel of the same name, adapted for the screen by the great William Faulkner, directed by the phenomenal Howard Hawks and including one of the earliest smoldering pairings (the second, to be exact) of Bogey and Bacall is one of the all-time great detective noirs.

For Powell, Marlowe was a huge departure. In fact, if one wants to recall the uproar among comic fans when Tim Burton cast Michael Keaton as Bruce Wayne in the first Batman, that’s probably what many people originally thought of Powell playing Marlowe. Bogart hadn’t yet played Marlowe (The Big Sleep came two years later), but his Sam Spade had basically set the bar for the potentially amoral detectives of the era. Powell was already a Hollywood star, but he was known as a song-and-dance man having starred in major musicals and comedies of the ’30s like 42nd Street, Gold Diggers of 1933 (and 1935 and 1937) and Christmas in July. Where Bogart appears gruff and rough, Powell’s Marlowe looks more dapper and smooth (even with the addition of a permanent five o’clock shadow). Nonetheless, Powell is riveting in Murder, My Sweet (an adaptation of Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely). His tough guy banter simultaneously seems out-of-place coming from his mouth while always being believable. It’s a great performance in a very good film, and watching both the similarities and differences between Powell and Bogart by seeing Murder, My Sweet and The Big Sleep back-to-back is an opportunity that should not be missed.

(Tangential note: For another interesting take on Marlowe from the same period, rent 1947’s The Lady in the Lake directed by and starring Robert Montgomery. While not as good a performance as Bogart or Powell, Montgomery’s film is fascinating because it’s all told in the first person from Marlowe’s point-of-view. Yes, in fact, the camera only sees whatever Marlowe is seeing at the time. In fact, we only even see Montgomery as Marlowe when he sees himself in a mirror. When he gets knocked out, the picture goes blurry and then to black. It’s not the best movie, but it’s a fascinating experiment, and the discipline to actually shoot the film and tell the story this way is amazing.)

On Wednesday and Thursday, Film Forum shows The Woman in the Window and The Big Heat, two classic noirs from Lang who after his earlier German expressionistic work like Dr. Mabuse and Metropolis, made one of the earliest precursors to film noir in 1931 with M. So it should only be expected that Lang later became one of, if not the, greatest directors of the style with films like Ministry of Fear, Scarlet Street and While the City Sleeps. The Woman in the Window and The Big Heat are two of his best.

Personally, I prefer The Big Heat thanks to the purely sadistic performance from the great Lee Marvin. Glenn Ford is great as the detective hell-bent on revenge, and if you’re a stranger to Gloria Grahame, this film is as good a time as any to get acquainted.

The Woman in the Window is yet another good example of one of the best noir formulas: a guy (in this case a college professor played by the great Edward G. Robinson) winds up in the wrong place at the wrong time because of his fascination with a beautiful woman only to become entangled and targeted for murder. And this is why film noir is often simply “Murphy’s Law” come to life for many of its leading men.

Friday begins the final week of this phenomenal series at Film Forum, and it definitely goes out with a bang starting this weekend with the pairing of Sweet Smell of Success and Touch of Evil. Sweet Smell of Success definitely lives on the fringe of noir, and plenty of arguments against it being categorized as such make perfect sense. Touch of Evil, on the other hand, is often considered the film that closes out the “official” era of noir (often thought of as 1941-1958). Maybe it bears that reputation because it comes pretty close to perfecting the style (if that’s possible).

I’ll return to those two on Friday, but in the mean time, enjoy the four films they’re showing over the next three days, or rent them if you can’t get to Film Forum. They’re all worth your time.