I Like To Watch

I'm baaaaack – with Michael Myers, no less. Check out my reflections on Halloween for its 35th anniversary on All Things Horror. TL/DR? It's screening all this week! Follow the link to learn more:

YOU GUYS I CAN’T EVEN! The Brattle Theatre is doing a Miyazaki retrospective this week and next, with such favorites as Princess Mononoke, Kiki’s Delivery Service, My Neighbor Totoro, and on. Sunday’s feature is particularly perfect to bring your kids, anime-obsessed best friend, or your own sense of childish wonder to: A double feature of Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle (both of which are particularly breath-taking on the big screen).

Even more exciting, however, is the listings for the films that never showed on the big screens (at least, around me) in the US: Pom Poko, Porco Rosso, Laputa: Castle in the Sky, all closing out with the weird and wild Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind on Thursday night. The debut feature film of Miyazaki, the film tends toward that early-80’s anime style film geeks like me grew up with (Unico, anyone?); but with those distinct Miyazaki touches. Having read the comic, but never seen the Miyazaki product, I have to admit squee-worthy joy at being able to see it for the first time on the Big Screen.

Check out the Brattle’s lineup here.

I was a film major, and I work in production. I pride myself on being able to read into movies, to be able to fully support or condemn them based on technical work, historical and genre relevance, or personal belief - yeah, I’m that asshole. What can I say? This is my religion. I’ve read it’s tomes of sanctity and studied its prophet's work. I’m a zealot.

That being said, I was completely stymied by the bizzarity that is Harlrem Nights. The foghorn of a question in my head: What IS it? Drama with little tension? Comedy with few laughs? An overproduced realist film? A statement about the lack of three dimensional black characters in films of the 30’s? A huge navel-gazing flop?

Unfortunately, it seems to be the latter. Background: I attacked the recent Netflix offering of early Eddie Murphy films with a ferocity I normally reserve for art house and sci-fi fare. The comedic perfection of Coming to America (which I rapturized about here) convinced me the gent I associated with Dr. Doolittle or, worse, The Klumps, deserved a second chance. So I followed it with Raw and Delirious. Holy. Fucking. Shit. I’ve admitted my bizarre addiction to stoner comedies and George Carlin before, but these were insane, hilarious time capsules that convinced me this early, raunchy work was worthwhile comedy, up there with early Brooks and Python.

And then I hit up against Harlem Nights and screeched to a dead stop. What WAS this? Who could possibly have made Richard Pryor such a dreadfully sad, old man? The film didn’t laugh at itself, the funny moments were mumbles into the wind, as if the characters hated to make a joke at this moment. The dramatic, noir attempts were flat, dull, without any tension. The double cross seemed to cross itself - I’m still not quite sure how it worked out in the end. The film was rushed, with little air around the sophomoric comedic attempts and tired slapstick rehash. Most confusing to me was the fact of the (obviously big) budget, and the seeming desire of the filmmakers to make Harlem Nights seem like a credible noir film with a dash of comedy.

So I dug into the background. Created in 1989, Harlem Nights was written and directed by Murphy, the star. Well, there’s part of it… Murphy made this film coming off his meteoric rise to the silver-screen and the box office success of Coming to America. Together these factors were a monster-maker; the studios were ready to give him what he wanted, and, sadly, it shows that he knew that. Harlem Nights is completely self-absorbed, poorly written, and barely directed. While it was a financial success, the film was nominated for two Razzies (Direction and Writing, both Murphy), and was bombed by almost all critics. Murphy admits lack of focus on direction, but I would say that the entire film lacked any focus.

The film focuses around a Sugar (Richard Pryor), an up-and-coming gangster in Harlem, and his adopted son, Quick (Murphy). They run a successful nightclub with a criminal back-room operation employing numbers men and madames (Redd Foxx and Della Reese amoung them) in their gambling, grifting and whoring operations. When they run up against a dangerous established mobster (Michael Lerner) and the cop in his pocket (Danny Aiello), they have to find a way to come out on top.

There’s potential for comedy, there, right? At least with that cast, right? There should have been laughs hiding in the glittery drapery, not just confusion and boredom. While Murphy declared he had always wanted to create a period piece, it could still have featured the comedy he and his cast-mates were known for, if not an out-an-out parody or satire. JESUS! This damn film shoulda been great. Alas, it was anything but.

In a role that should have been a highlight of gangster parodies, Pryor has little comedy time; Sugar is mostly scold and grumble to Murphy’s dumb, cutesy, headstrong Quick. Murphy is barely here - the acting is flat and the jokes barely register. The character relationship, meant to be as Father and Son, is more like Boss and Usurping Employee – disobedient Quick is always trying to steal the show as Sugar tries to keep the delicate balance of crime and public face. Redd Foxx is a slight foil, playing with mostly visual gags and ridiculous (improv?) mumblings that don’t make sense into the whole of the film. Like they sat him down and said “ROLL WITH IT!”. When you have three generations of huge-in-their-time comedians, you’d think you’d get at least a B picture.

I am Polanski-sympathetic. I am, and I’m sorry. He did something wrong, yes. But so did Woody Allen, Charlie Chaplin, and SO many others. None of these men should get a free pass. Few do. But few have been persecuted to the extent of Polanski, and even fewer are recurring tabloid fixtures. I sympathize with Geimer’s plight - consensual or not, sex at that age can be traumatic. But for someone who is so eager to get out of the incident’s shadow, she sure brings it up a lot. She sure grants a lot of interviews. She sure capitilizes on it in as many ways possible… If you’re eager to get out of the shadow of a traumatic incident, you usually don’t agree to keep talking about it to the media for 40 years. You go to a therapist, you seek the beauty of life, you move on, you repress – but you don’t write a tell all.

I was positively DELIGHTED this weekend to discover the selection of new films Netflix had added to their roster at some point over the past week. Scanning Netflix is somewhat of a nightmare with me - I add 10 - 20 new films to my queue, but can't settle on one to watch now. But this time, I instantly new what I had to watch first. Was it that strange foreign film I've been dying to see? The strange new indie film I'd been pining over? 

There is a man I count as friend, mentor, pen-pal, ex-drinking-buddy; a brilliant artist that Miss Trixie cherishes knowing. He is a bit older than me in years, and quite more learned in the ways of life, art, and all things important. He is a brilliant animator, a creative, thoughtful filmmaker. His work never ceases to touch me, thrill me, intrigue and fascinate me. He is original, authentic, and all of those words that we give those who are a step above the rest of us.  In honor, here is a belated film fest on his rapturously inventive work. 

Happy Birthday, Bob White.

There's really only 3 films coming to a theatre near me this weekend that I'm genuinely excited about... 

First we have Ruby Sparks, which I wrote about back in April:

Not usually a big fan of this particular flavour of twee indie-film, I adored Little Miss Sunshine, the previous offering by Dayton and Faris. One of the few films I appreciated Paul Dano in, Sunshine was witty and well-directed; I look forward to Ruby Sparks, and hope that, for all the ideas it borrows, we’re in for another smart, authentic piece.

Also showing up on the local Boston screens is To Rome With Love, the Woody Allen piece I'm not so sure about:

It looks like Woody-no-goody took all the best parts of indie movies and cobbled them together into some big, not-so-hot indie film monster. So sad. Can’t say I’m truly looking forward to it, as I have with his other films...

Though I'm still probably going to see it. I mean, it's in Rome, for Chrissake. Swoon! and whatnot...

Also (and this is in total confidence, okay cats?), THE action blockbuster of the... summer?... is out this weekend. Oh, yeah, that's right. I'm totally in a tizzy about seeing Expendables 2 on the big screen. I mean, WHO ISN'T amirite? All those one-liners and bullet casings! Willis! Li! Coture! Statham! and to a lesser extent, The Italion Stallion and that Bratwurst of a Governor! Even NPR is digging the action love-fest from the sound of things...

In honor of Herr Herzog's 70th, take a gander at this great retrospective put together by IndieWire for the release of Cave of Forgotten Dreams. One of my favorite's, Herzog fits into the same category as Polanski, Lynch, Gilliam - sticking by his guns, a little crazy, ballsy and overall awesome. How many directors do you know who would continue with an interview after being shot? How many directors have descended into jungle madness only to emerge with a brilliant, beautiful film (and Klaus Kinski)? How many directors excel at both the fiction and non-fiction forms? Not a lot can compare to the brilliance of Kinski and Herzog's work together on the latter's early fiction films (most notably Nosferatu and Aguirre). The breathless cinematography of Herzog's more contemporary documentaries is hard to hold a candle to (see: Lessons of Darkness). 

Ah, summer – a time for frolicking, lazing, and general merriment; at least, in childhood’s past. While I may be a grown lady now, with jobs, responsibilities, and other such bothersome things, I do still like to make my summers as carefree as possible. So, alas, I took a departure from writing, blogging, and (how dare I!) anything that really took time and energy to process. Beach Reading and Blockbuster watching, y’all!