Rocketman (2019)

Director: Dexter Fletcher

Solid musical biopic covering the first thirty-odd years in the life of massively popular musician Elton John. Rocketman is entertaining and very well crafted, even if it left a few things to be desired. This was part of a little musical kick that my wife and I have been on in the last few weeks - a kick which has included watching Purple Rain and the 2018 version of A Star is Born. 

For those somehow unaware of the exact origins of the smash hit songs Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road, Tiny Dancer, and a ton of other tunes we all know and can sing the chorus to, this movie is a dramatic, glitzy telling of their performer, Elton John. John, born Reginald Kenneth Dwight, had an emotionally (and often physically) distant father, a rather self-involved mother, and early on exhibited exceptional talent as a pianist. After spending most of his teen years playing in cover bands and as a backup pianist for visiting rock and rhythm and blues bands, Dwight delved into a solo career, adopting the stage name "Elton John." He was soon introduced to aspiring lyricist Bernie Taupin, and the two very quickly proved to be an incomparable songwriting duo. Within two years, the pair had composed two hit songs, and soon Elton was finding himself entering the brighter spotlights of worldwide fame and fortune. However, the prodigious musician and performer still struggled mightily with his own sexual orientation and relationships with other people, being a gay man in a time when it still wasn't very acceptable to be known as a non-heterosexual. Elton's forms of self-therapy included booze and drugs, along with lavish spending sprees on ever-more flamboyant outfits and other material possessions. After a rock bottom moment in the mid-1980s, Elton eventually sorted out most of the serious issues in his life, getting him back on track to having healthier relationships and returning to being a great performer.

Elton John's famously flamboyant outfits often belied
the psychological and emotional distress he was experiencing.

The movie Rocketman covers this period in John's life in fun fashion. I actually wasn't expecting it, but it takes the more traditional musical approach of having song and dance numbers break out, spontaneously, regularly throughout the movie. This has never been my favorite style of musical, as it usually feels inorganic and forced. Still, I grew used to it with Rocketman, as it's a logical representation of a person's whose mind works in musical ways. Also, none of the songs is full-length, always being a one- or two-minute segment of one of John's best-known hits. For me, it also helped that I've always liked the man's music. I've never been a fanatic, but I've enjoyed his songs enough to tap my toes along and even sing or hum a few bars when those familiar sounds kick off at many points in the movie. And the visuals and choreography are as glitzy and dazzling as you would expect from a film about one of the showiest pop musicians of all time.

The story itself doesn't do anything especially novel with the narrative of fame. A young, bright-eyed, and talented person overcomes difficult beginnings to reach unimagined heights of notoriety. Their personal demons and the trappings of fame lead to self-destructive behavior. They navigate those treacherous waters and come out the other side, a bit more whole. Rocketman sticks to that telling of the story Elton John's first thirty-odd years of life. It is fairly refreshing to see that we live in a time when someone's sexuality can be openly explored, along with the more standard struggles with family life and other personal obstacles. This film does a nice job of not flinching here, or making John out to be some sort of angelic victim.

One can't help but notice that, while the movie uses plenty of tunes from the Elton John catalog, it is not John's voice that you hear. Perhaps for reasons of sonic integrity, lead actor Taron Egerton does all of his own singing. He does a solid job of it, considering Elton John always had such an amazing and distinct vocal style. Still, it's not Elton John, and it stands out a bit. Egerton does, however, do a great job in terms of his overall performance, hitting the range of emotions required in depicting John as sometimes painfully vulnerable and sometimes brashly confident. The rest of the cast also does great work, especially Jamie Bell, who plays Bernie Taupin.

Rocketman was good fun. You'll have to look elsewhere if you want an objective, definitive life story of Elton John, but this is an entertaining and often touching look at the making of a 20th-century pop music icon.

Before I Die #640: A Star is Born (2018)

This is the 640 film I've now seen out of the 1,222 movies on the "Before You Die" list that I'm gradually working through.

Director: Bradley Cooper

A deftly-handled and sometimes touching musical tragedy that overcomes a few pacing and character development weaknesses.

This was the fourth major studio incarnation of the A Star is Born story, with the previous three being produced in 1933, 1956, and 1976. Every one of them tells the same basic tale of a young, talented, aspiring female singer being discovered by an established male musician. The man makes a protege out of the woman, who then quickly vaults to stardom, all while the man falls prey to his own demons. I've not seen any of the earlier renditions of the film, but I've heard that they are a mixed bag. For my part, this most recent version was a really strong musical. And I typically don't like musicals.

To be clear, this movie is something of a dark fairy tale. Especially though the first two acts, there's an "ugly duckling" story-line at work, with Lady Gaga doing brilliant work as Ally, the Jersey girl-next-door with a powerhouse voice and something to say. Within the span of about 48 hours, she's discovered by popular, highly-respected, country-folk singer/songwriter Jackson "Jack" Maine (Bradley Cooper), and enticed onto a stage with him. Ally's star is, immediately, born, and she is very quickly off and touring with Jack, to gangbuster crowd response. Ally's fame grows, and she falls in love with Jack. But all is far from fairy tale perfect. Jack has long been in the throws of serious alcoholism and drug abuse, soon made worse when he sees his beloved Ally starting to abandon her artistic integrity as a meaningful songwriter, instead allowing herself to be molded into a more shallow, superficial version of a bubblegum pop star. What started as a fairy tale dream ends as something far more complex and affecting.

I enjoyed the movie, and actually found it to have more depth than I expected. While the "magical moments" felt a tad rushed and even a bit contrived at times, they weren't so awkward that they spoil anything. And while the film isn't exactly short (it clocks in at 2 hours, 16 minutes), I couldn't always sense whether only days or months had passed in Ally's rise from nobody to musical sensation. Still, once things settle down and get beyond the "magical moment" first act, there is more and more to chew over in terms of character and theme. A great strength of this movie is that it often isn't overwritten. We only learn so much detail about Jack's past - enough to get a certain sense of why his relationship with his older brother is so rocky and why he self-medicates to such damaging degrees. And we are allowed to infer certain things about Ally and some of the decisions she makes, including hooking up with a clearly alcoholic Jack, despite her stating early that she's wary of such types. There's also the larger theme of artistic integrity and what it can cost some people, financially, psychologically, or both. These are the things that my wife and I enjoyed talking over a bit once the credits were rolling.

Ally's first big performance, and arguably her most affecting
to us viewers. Lady Gaga manages to work through several
emotions with her face, posture, and voice, all within about
30 seconds, leading to an unforgettable moment.

Being a musical, a large part of the movie is the songs. While I'm not big on musicals, and I'm not big on country/folk, singer/songwriter tunes, I have to admit to getting a bit caught up in my feels a few times during this picture. 99% of this was just Lady Gaga's performance and amazing voice. I just found something so vulnerable yet powerful in it, especially in the earlier tunes she sings. Cooper does quite well, too, for a person without nearly the musical background of Lady Gaga, and his sometimes-understated performance fits the story well.

I may never watch this one again, since it's not really my genre, but it's easy to see why it was such a hit movie. If you're a fan of musicals and somehow haven't seen it yet, you'll almost definitely love it. If you're more like me and don't care much for the genre, I still suggest that you give it a shot. You might be surprised at how much you enjoy it.

That's 640 movies down; only 582 to go. 

Purple Rain (1984)

Director: Albert Magnoli

Despite being a full-on Generation Xer whose formative years were smack in the 1980s, I somehow made it right through the end of the 20th century without ever seeing Purple Rain. I now know that I wasn't missing all that much.

A semi-autobiographical vanity project for undisputed musical genius Prince, Purple Rain falls laughably flat in every area where a musical film needs to answer the question, "Why don't I just buy the album or watch a live performance of the artist?" Purple Rain has no good answers to either of those questions.

The story told in between the musical numbers follows "The Kid," (Prince) a supposedly misunderstood musician whose genius is mostly ignored, with audiences preferring the pop funk stylings of The Kid's main rival and tormentor, Morris Day (essentially playing himself). When a beautiful young woman, Apollonia (playing a version of herself), comes along to try and make it as a singer and dancer, she falls in love with The Kid. The romance falls apart when The Kid grows angry and hits Apollonia, a dark echo of the abuse that he's witnesses his father unleash on his mother for years. Apollonia begins a solo career under the tutelage of Morris Day, sending The Kid further into despair. He gets a wake-up call, though, when his father commits suicide. Pulling himself together, he crafts a few masterpiece tunes, shows up at a music competition where Day's group has also performed, and The Kid dazzles the crowd with an array of brilliant pop-funk-R-and-B tunes, including the iconic title song "Purple Rain."

When written out in summary form, it seems like it should be an OK musical movie, right? Maybe not great, but at least the bare bones are there for something that isn't laughable. Well, much of the movie was laughable, and not in the intentional "Walk Hard" kind of way.

The music is mostly great. Prince was fully formed at this point, and the movie soundtrack includes some of his best pop hits. Even aside from "Purple Rain," we also get "Let's Go Crazy," "When Doves Cry," and "I Would Die 4 U," along with a few lesser known but engaging jams. And many of the songs are presented as live performances by The Kid, so we get to see Prince's stage performances, which are truly something to behold.

The stage performances are worth seeing, but you're probably
better off just catching them in isolation on youtube. That
is, unless, you want to heckle the other sections of the
movie, just for fun.

Unfortunately, the stage was the only place in this movie where Prince looked even remotely in his element. It's hard to say what was more to blame - the horribly tepid script, the hiring of actors for their looks over their acting skills, or the utter lack of genuine chemistry between the characters. It was likely a toxic combination of all of them. Regardless, the result was a film that, when Prince wasn't performing on stage, was hilariously bad. It was fairly obvious that the "story" was merely a patchwork excuse to string together some Prince songs, with the shortcomings attempting to be glossed over with bright costumes, a shiny motorcycle, some nudity, and a couple of semi-graphic sex scenes.

I will say that I'm glad that I've now seen it. I was never a massive Prince devotee, but I certainly love several of his tunes and have no trouble seeing how musically brilliant the diminutive Minnesotan was. But short of someone doing a really fun Rocky Horror Picture Show type review, I will never feel the need to watch this one again. Buy the album, maybe, but not watch the movie. 

New Releases (Oscar Catchup Edition): Manchester by the Sea (2016) and La La Land (2016)

It's Oscar time, with nominations being released in late January. This is always the time that I scramble to see the major nominees that I missed through the year, so here we go. (No spoilers for any movies)

Manchester by the Sea (2016)

Director: Kenneth Lonergan

An absolutely astounding movie that finds the true drama in a very real, very human kind of tragedy and an attempt at some form of healing and redemption.

The story is that of Lee Chandler (Casey Affleck), a janitor who tends to several apartment buildings in the Boston area. He lives a solitary life in a tiny apartment, and he keeps his distance from other people. Although quiet, there is clearly an inner rage burning inside Lee, as evidenced by a violence that emerges when he drinks too much. This loner is thrown out of his routine, however, when he learns that his brother has passed away back in his coastal hometown of Manchester-by-the-Sea. When he returns, many of the things which Lee tried to escape a number of years previous start to creep their way back into his life, forcing him to reckon with them. One of the primary elements of this is his nephew, Patrick, a 16-year-old who has had little to no interaction with his uncle since some unspoken tragedy parted them. Patrick is a rather typical modern Boston Irish-Catholic teen - witty, charming, sarcastic, and alternately self-absorbed and caring.

My wife and I were blown away with just how powerful, effective, and often even enjoyable this movie was. At its heart there is a brutal tragedy that would normally torpedo any enjoyment one could take from such a story. Here, however, it is not allowed to suck all of the life and humor out of the tale. With dry, gallows humor and their feet firmly planted in reality, the characters force Lee and us viewers to accept that life moves on. In some ways, this is a good thing, but in others it is painful. For those looking for nice, tidy, and pleasant endings to their dramas, this will likely not be satisfying. It is, however, an extremely thoughtful and touchingly humanistic tale.

The setting and characters create an impressive sense of place. Though some viewers may be a bit burned out by the relatively steady stream of prominent "Boston area" movies that have hit the screens in the last twenty or so years, starting with Good Will Hunting in 1997 and most recently seen in last year's Spotlight, Manchester by the Sea is not using its setting simply for panache. There is a very particular culture at work here - that of the traditional, Northeastern Irish Catholics - that plays heavily into Lee's dealings with his own pain and the members of his family. Perhaps it is easy for me to relate and connect, being the son of Irish Catholic parents, one of whom was born and raised in Queens, New York, but I feel that the movie has a more universal appeal in that it touches on ways that men traditionally retreat to stoicism as a way to deal with emotional pain.

Patrick and his uncle Lee. The reserved and traumatized Lee
is forced out of the protective shell that he's created for
himself by his wiseass nephew. Their interactions are an
amazing blend of dry humor and stirring emotion.

In terms of narrative, the movie is masterful. Using occasional flashbacks, we get to see Lee as he was several years before the current story, and the difference is drastic. This initially sets up the question of what caused such an obvious shift in demeanor, and it leads us right into Lee's current conflict with himself, his hometown, and the family members and former friends who live there. Non-linear narratives can often become mere novelty tricks, but this movie uses it to enhance its' tale immensely.

As of my writing this, I've only seen four out of the nine Oscar Best Picture nominees. But Manchester by the Sea is my current leader in the clubhouse for the best. Whether it wins or not is another story, but this movie is outstanding drama, all around.

La La Land (2016)

Director: Damien Chazelle

A good movie, though one that I think is a bit overhyped, given its record-tying 14 Oscar nominations and virtually unanimous, insanely positive critical reception.

Using the now-rarely seen genre of the musical film, La La Land tells the story of two aspiring artists - jazz musician Sebastian and actress Mia - who are trying to make it in Los Angeles. After a rocky first couple of interactions, the two fall in love. However, trouble emerges when Sebastian compromises his own strict artistic integrity and takes a lucrative job as a pianist for a pop jazz band, putting pressure on his relationship with Mia.

Full disclosure: I don't like musicals. I've seen many of the classics and even a handful of modern ones considered the best in the genre, but I quite simply am not a fan of the approach. For the most part, I've always found musicals a bit too saccharine and superficial, in terms of the plots and characters. While I can appreciate the talent and effort that goes into making a good musical, I've always preferred a more straightforward style of narrative. With all of that in mind, I'll say that La La Land does a nice job of what it sets out to do, and it adds a bit more modern sophistication and humor to the proceedings in terms of acting and the non-musical dialogue.

But it is still a musical. Though director Damien Chazelle does a commendable job weaving the song and dance numbers into the story more smoothly than many musicals, they are still a distraction. Fortunately, there are some dazzling visuals sprinkled into the carefully-constructed sets, scenes, and costume layouts, making for a film that is as easy on the eyes as they come. The issue is, though, that I found almost none of the songs partcicularly memorable or catchy, in terms of either the lyrics or the tunes. And while Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone are excellent actors with great comic chops (just see them together in Crazy, Stupid Love), they aren't top-rate singers or dancers. They're fine. In Stone's case, even good. But they aren't going to rank among the best song-and-dance duos in movie history any time soon. And this is what I need from such movies. One of the few musicals I like is the classic Swing Time, with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, because those two were world-class dancers who could hypnotize us with their supremely elegant moves on the dance floor. Gosling and Stone simply aren't anywhere near that class, so their "musical" skills are not a particular reason to see the movie.

Stone and Gosling do fine with the song and dance numbers,
but they don't even come close to the level of the best singers
or dancers in the history of the musical genre.

I did enjoy the comedy in the film, thanks to Gosling and Stone's abilities to deliver humor even when the script may not have been particularly sharp. And the ending of the movie is truly creative and moving. Ultimately, though, this was not a musical that won over a person like me - one who can count on one hand the number of musicals that they enjoy.

This leads me to wonder about why the film has received a record-tying number of Oscar nominations. My personal theory is that movie critics and industry insiders, even more than movie aficionados, have a massive bias towards the legacy of movies (almost as much as movies about movies). The musical is a nearly extinct form of film, and I suspect that the Academy and other film award organization were just thrilled to see any form of well-done musical (only Les Miserable from 2013 had been nominated in the last 14 years. Before that, it was Chicago in 2002). Whatever the case, I think that the other three Best Picture nominees which I've seen - Arrival, Hell or High Water, and Manchester by the Sea - are all superior to La La Land. 

Film # 59: A Hard Day's Night (1964)

Director: Richard Lester

Initial Release Country: United Kingdom

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)

The iconic pop quartet spend a day running from fans, being cheeky, and mixing in several smash hits.

Extended Summary (Spoilers included, not that it matters)

Pop music sensations The Beatles are busy young lads. On one “typical” day, they spend their time charming some fans with their playful puns, avoiding stodgy drags with impish impassivity, or simply driving the teenyboppers wild with their monstrously popular tunes. They bounce from trains to limos to concert halls to night clubs, bringing their playfully subversive charm with them.

Accompanied by Paul McCarthy's rakish granddad and the band's managers, the Fab Four break into song several times, be it in a train car, on the street or in its presumed proper place, a concert hall. After a series of misunderstandings nearly lose their drummer, Ringo Starr, to arrest by the local police, the four arrive at that evening's gig just in time play their set, sooth the panicked stage manager, and send the adolescent girls into absolute rapture.

Lennon & Harrison, dazzling adoring fans by their meer presence.

After all of the screaming, cheering and hoipaloi die down, John, Paul, George and Ringo run off with their managers to board a helicopter and fly away, presumably to the next day's gig and yet another bout of non-stop insanity and hijinx.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this first viewing, before any research on the film)

I simply don't get it.

This isn't to imply that there's anything about the movie to “get”. What I mean by that opening line is that I don't get why it's placed on the TIME magazine “100 Great Films” list. A Hard Day's Night is ultimately harmless fun, featuring arguably the most popular band of all time. Still, it showed me nothing that would explain bestowing “great film” status on it.

I suppose full disclosure would be appropriate. I am not a huge Beatles fan. I have nothing against them. I certainly don't dislike them. In fact, I have several albums of their and actually quite like several of their songs. However, I've never felt drawn to them with the religious dedication seen in so many millions of other people. Not even close.

The rabid fandom gets going early and continues through the film and into the 21st century.

I can best describe myself as being a “post drugs” Beatles fan – a person who likes the music they made after they started dabbling in better living through chemistry. Hence, all of the songs I like are from 1965 and after (Revolver, Rubber Soul, and their successors). A Hard Day's Night predated these by a few years and was the apex of The Beatles early, teenybopper heyday (after seeing this film, I might dub The Beatles as the first ever “boy band”, though they grew out of that shortly after). The music was pure bubblegum – catchy, crisp, and lyrically shallow. The movie follows suit, for the most part.

Going into the movie, I didn't really know what to expect. I didn't know if it was a pure documentary or what. The answer was “or what”. A Hard Day's Night was a comical take on the hectic daily life of an incredibly popular “band on the run”. While the four band members play themselves, everything in the film is totally scripted, and it is quite clearly meant to be a lighthearted farce. The boys crack wise, ditch their uptight managers, and generally frustrate any person over the age of 30. The kids obviously loved it.

I, however, am not a starry-eyed 15-year-old British girl (so my girlfriend tells me). Whether my age had anything to do with it, I can't be sure, but I found the movie to be mostly a bore. There are a few one-liners that elicited a chuckle here and there, but the vast majority of the movie was plain dull. The jokes were mostly lame puns and the physical comedy was sadly sophomoric.

McCartney hides from fans by wearing a fake moustache. Just one of many silly jokes I can only guess were aimed at the vaudevillian/8-year old demographic.

One reason I assume people rate this movie highly is the music. The soundtrack is, essentially, the album of the same name. Without doubt, some of the band's most enduring and infectious hits are to be heard and seen performed. If you love that album, you'll no doubt love the movie, just for hearing the songs. As previously explained, though, these are not the Beatles tunes that draw me in. For me, these little musical interludes simply tried my patience.

I do have to say that the movie is shot well. It's in black and white, but the framing is solid and the acting is decent enough. Alas, it takes far more to make a great film. Sure, this one features a pop music group the likes of which may never be seen again, since our modern culture precludes the dominance of any one superstar band or group, but it's still very flat to me.

For people who love The Beatles in general, or just prefer their earlier G-rated vibe, this movie is probably one that you'd like. It wasn't my cup o' tea, sorry to say.

Take 2: Or, Why Film Geeks Love This Movie. (Done after some further research on the film)

A little research has shed a wee touch of light on the enduring praise of A Hard Day's Night.

While the earliest reviews, including this original one from TIME magazine, seem to find the movie far funnier than I did, several more modern reviewers bring up more salient points. As is often the case, Roger Ebert saw the greater picture in this 1996 review of his. Though he also found more humor in the movie than I did, he pays even more attention to the technical merits exhibited by director Richard Lester. Lester's unique blending of various filming styles apparently influenced movies, TV shows, and television commercials for decades to come. I certainly can't argue with this, as the cinematography was a clear standout aspect of the movie.

The other semi-novelty is that A Hard Day's Night was apparently an early stab at the "mockumentary". It certainly doesn't go all the way, as later films such as "The Ruttles" or "Spinal Tap", but one can see how the zaniness is there, though much tamer than those later entries to the genre.

I must that that, even in the more sober reviews, I couldn't help but think that the writer's couldn't shake off a certain amount of nostalgia. I'd probably do the same for any group that provided the primary soundtrack to roughly 15 of my formative years, if such a band existed. Despite this, I have to take the glowing reviews from the Baby Boomers with a tiny grain of salt.

That's a wrap. 59 shows down; 46 to go.

Coming Soon: Band of Outsiders (1964)

A French crime movie, oui? Actually, I've found many a pleasant surprise in watching French crime films, so I look forward to this one. Come back and check out my review, non?

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film # 49: Some Like It Hot (1959)

Director: Billy Wilder

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about 9 years ago)

Teaser Summary (no spoilers)

Pair of jazz musicians dress in drag and travel with all-girl band to flee gangsters. Shenanigans abound.

Uncut Summary (Full plot synopsis, spoilers included. Fair warning.)

Chicago, 1929. Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) are a couple of jazz musicians who play in a hot speakeasy run by notorious gangster “Spats” Colombo. That night is payday, and the two are working out how to pay back all of their many debts. Just as they bask in the appreciation of simply having a steady job, the police raid the club off of a tip from a local rat, “Toothpick” Charlie. Joe and Jerry see it coming and get out, but the police manage to shut down the place.

The next day, Joe convinces Jerry to put all of their money on a horse. The horse loses, and gone is the fellows' remaining cash, leaving them broke and jobless. They head to a talent agency, to no avail, finding only the tantalizing job for a bass fiddle and sax, their instruments, but for an all-girls group heading to Florida. Instead, they take a small gig on the far side of town. Joe even connives his way to borrowing a secretary's car to get there.

Early that same evening, the boys stroll into the garage to pick up their loaner car. While waiting for the tank to be filled, though, a pack of mafiosos storms in, led by Spats Colombo himself. They have Toothpick Charlie cornered there and gun him down, along with a half dozen other unlucky saps. Joe and Jerry witness it all and are about to join the recently deceased, but they luck out and escape the garage.

On the run, they decide to pose as women and join the all-girls band that they had heard about earlier that day. They adopt the names Josephine and Daphne, don some wigs and dresses, grab their instruments, and show up at the train station. On the train, they meet all of the other girls in the band, including the sultry Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe), the group's bombshell singer and ukulele player. Joe and Jerry have to fight their male urges amongst the scantily-clad women, especially the voluptuous, naive and vulnerable Sugar.

"Josephine" and "Daphne" sashay their way down the platform.

Once in Florida, Joe and Jerry seem to be in the clear, but only to an extent. While Jerry is eager to ditch the masquerade, Joe reminds him that Spats is likely looking in every jazz club in the country for them. They decide to remain Josephine and Daphne for a while longer, though it's starting to pose its own unique problems: Jerry has already had to fend off a grabby, though very wealthy suitor – the playfully lecherous Osgood Fielding III.

This also gives Joe the chance to weasel his way into Sugar's arms. He uses what he knows of her search for a rich man “with glasses” and takes on his second persona: the heir of the Shell Oil Corporation. Under this guise, he finds Sugar on the beach and she falls for it, hook, line and sinker. The two part ways, but Sugar is clearly starstruck.

Back at the hotel, Jerry receives a call from Osgood, who invites “Daphne” to an intimate evening on his yacht. Joe convinces Jerry to let him use Osgood's yacht to woo Sugar under his “Shell Oil” millionaire persona. Jerry reluctantly agrees to this as well as keeping Osgood busy on shore for the evening.

That evening, Joe's devious plan works to perfection. Jerry keeps Osgood occupied with an evening of romantic dancing while Joe works a cunning game of reverse psychology on Sugar. After ferrying her out to Osgood's yacht and pawning it off as his own, he weaves a tall tale about the freak death of a past love and how he is no longer able to feel love for any woman. Sugar, taking up the challenge to re-ignite his passions, kisses Joe repeatedly and clearly falls in love with his fictitious persona.

Sugar and "Shell Oil Junior" get further acquainted.

Back at the hotel in the morning, Joe returns from his evening of deception and snuggling with Sugar to find his pal Jerry in a bizarre daze. After a marathon evening of lively dancing, Osgood has proposed to him, and Jerry seems to actually be considering marrying the goofy old sod and extorting alimony checks from him after the inevitable annulment. Joe manages to snap Jerry out of this odd and felonious notion.

At the same time downstairs at the same hotel, one Spats Colombo has arrived for a meeting of mafia dons, all under the heading of a gathering of “Italian Opera” aficionados and presided over by head boss Little Bonaparte. Bonaparte has a serious bone to pick with Spats, as Toothpick Charlie had been a friend of his.

In the lobby, Joe and Jerry stumble across Spats, fortunately in disguise, but think that they've been discovered. They immediately hustle back to their rooms and pack for a hasty getaway. However, while clambering down the banister outside their room, they are spotted by Spats and his crew. A chase ensues, but the boys manage to elude capture by ducking under a banquet table. Unfortunately, the banquet is for the “Italian Opera” mobsters, including Spats. The banquet turns into a bloodbath as Bonaparte has Spats and his crew brutally gunned down. Joe and Jerry a discovered by Bonaparte, but the police arrive, allowing Joe and Jerry to slip away once again.

In the lobby, Joe and Jerry hide and overhear some of Bonaparte's goons explaining that they have all of the roads and public transportation routes out of town covered, in order to intercept Joe and Jerry. They realize that they can take Osgood's yacht to escape, and Jerry channels “Daphne” to make Osgood amenable. Osgood agrees, and the only order of business is for Joe to break away from Sugar without breaking her heart. He decides to once again use Osgood by sending Sugar some flowers and a diamond bracelet that Osgood had intended for “Daphne”. This initially crushes Sugar, but she decides to pursue her Shell Oil man as he flees to the shore with Joe and Osgood. She joins them on the boat just as they depart for Osgood's yacht. Joe finally comes clean to Sugar, dropping all masks, but she hardly bats an eye and accepts Joe, wholeheartedly.

Jerry, still dressed as Daphne and riding next to an elated Osgood, tries to let him down easily. Osgood is not so easily rebuffed, forcing Jerry to finally remove his wig and confess that he is, actually, a man. The euphoric Osgood misses not a beat and delivers the most timeless line of the film, saying, “Nobody's perfect.”

The love-struck Osgood and his muse, "Daphne"

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this most recent viewing, before any research)

Eh. Inconsistently entertaining.

Some Like It Hot has some really funny moments peppered into an underwhelming barrage of flat gags. The movie is clearly meant as a silly, screwball affair. From my reviews of earlier classic screwball comedies such as The Awful Truth, His Girl Friday and The Lady Eve, it should be clear that the genre is probably my second least favorite, with musicals taking the top spot. Some Like It Hot, however, eliminates the elements that I always despised, namely the focus on the rich and sophisticated class. By having the two main boobs (not counting Marilyn Monroe's) be average Joes (Josephines?), the condescension found in most screwballs is blessedly absent. Joe and Jerry are semi-lovable, if deceitful, morons who stumble their way through the movie. Unlike the typical “Cary Grant” protagonists of earlier screwballs, I found them far more amusing than annoying.

The humor is so intentionally silly that you can't help but laugh at times. This is mostly due to some great script work and top-notch comedic acting. While I couldn't care less for the endless gender humor (e.g. the fellas tripping in high heels, Jack Lemmon adjusting his fake breasts, et al), the interactions between Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe are priceless. Once Curtis adopts his “Shell Oil” persona, complete with a dead-on Cary Grant affectation, there are plenty of great moments between him and the laughably gullible Sugar Kane.

Here's some of the primo stuff, when Curtis and Monroe are hitting on all cylinders as "Shell Oil Junior" is trying to cunningly lure the dim-witted Sugar Kane into amore:


A personal side-note and observation: watching Marilyn Monroe in this movie is an interesting exercise, as a modern viewer. She was excellent at playing what amounts to a bimbo who is, in her own character's word, “not too bright.” More interesting to me, though, are the more subtle moments when she would be recounting past failures in love at the hands of abusive men. There are moments when, between sips of bootleg hooch, her eyes would narrow and her pain seemed eerily genuine. Knowing how Monroe's life played out and ended, I wondered just how much “acting” she was doing at these moments.

As funny as some of those moments are, there are plenty of duds to me. Nearly all of the supposedly funny moments with Spats Colombo and his gorillas were anything but. I got the sense that they almost didn't go far enough with the parody. All of the characters in the movie are meant to be cartoonish, but this concept was not fully realized with the gangsters, especially with their dialogue. Instead of being slyly ridiculous, their lines were merely hackneyed. Had some of the other characters' dialogue not been so sharp and clever, I might not have noticed, but compared to Curtis, Monroe, and Lemmon's lines, the writing for the gangsters seems a bit lazy.

One thing that distracted me a bit was the utter shallowness of the characterization, typified most by a lack of consistency. During the first portion of the film, Joe seems to be the slick-talking shyster and Jerry the level-headed, uptight straight man. Without warning, though, Jerry becomes the libidinous and irresponsible clown of the pair. Then, the voice of reason shifts back to Jerry's lips for the last part of the story. I know better than to ask for much character depth from such a goofy comedy, but a little bit of consistency would have been nice.

The plot is hardly worth mentioning. It was clearly just a device for setting up scenarios that, for mainstream Hollywood of the time, were probably rather risque. Having a bunch of nubile women scamper around in their underwear and bathing suits was probably titillating enough; the added element of Curtis and Lemmon's overtly lusty observations and comments almost certainly blazed new trails for popular sexual comedy. It goes without saying that having Marilyn Monroe's undulating curves and generously displayed cleavage, highlighted through Billy Wilder's direction, clearly sent the sex-o-meter into the red. Alas, in this day and age of Farrelly brothers and Judd Apatow flicks, such old-school fare is a relative lightweight.

Some Like It Hot is yet another movie which, if you know a little about cinema history, poses no mystery as to its lasting place in the annals of film. Still, it's another “classic” that I feel has faded to degrees in recent decades.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research)

Some Like It Hot seems impervious to wear, as far as critics are concerned. Even now, it is ranked by the American Film Institute as the 22nd greatest American movie of all time, and THE best American comedy of all time. (I respectfully disagree.)

There are no real surprises as to what critics have loved about the movie, which are the same things that I found enjoyable: the sharp, farcical scenarios and dialogue and the timeless sensuality of Marilyn Monroe. Something that does surprise me is how many critics, including this original reviewer back in 1959, cite Jack Lemmon as turning in the strongest performance, for which he was even nominated for several awards. Lemmon was excellent, no doubt, but Tony Curtis provided me with far more laughs.

As he often does, Roger Ebert points out an interesting aspect – Monroe's ability to be such a sex-pot while remaining so genuinely innocent. He recounts the well-known (among hard-core film buffs, anyway) tales of the troubles with Monroe, including her trouble with the lines and the domineering presence of then-husband Arthur Miller. There's also the curious tale of Tony Curtis saying that kissing Marilyn Monroe was “like kissing Hitler.” Check out his review here.

Speaking of Monroe, something was confirmed for me that I made no mention of above – that she did, in fact, perform all of her own singing. I have to agree with the reviews that I read that state that she did outstanding work with them. She may not have been any kind of world-class vocalist, but she was certainly skilled enough to “sell” the lyrics, as Ebert put it. As a person who nearly always dislikes musical numbers in movies, I had absolutely no problems with any of them in Some Like It Hot.

Here's my favorite number from the movie:


Another point of note is that, due to its blatant sexuality, Some Like It Hot is credited as being one of several contemporaneous films that began to break down the Hays Production Code, the ratings code that had been in place for over two decades. In fact, it received a rating of “Condemned” by the “National Legion of Decency” back in '59. I have to think that that piqued the public's curiosity to no end. Fortunately, such Protestant ideals of art and censorship would be mostly shattered in another five or six years' time.

Considering that it's hailed as arguably the greatest closing line of all time, I have no choice but to finish up with this:


That's a wrap. 49 shows down, 56 to go.

Coming Soon: The World of Apu (1959):

The final installment of the Apu Trilogy. The second was an understated delight, and I'm intrigued to see how Satyajit Ray completed his tale of the thoroughly human Bengali boy.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #47: Pyaasa (1957)

Title for Us English-Speaking Types: “Thirst” or “The Thirsty One”

Director: Guru Dutt

Initial Release Country: India

Times Previously Seen: none

Teaser Summary (No spoilers)Skilled but poor poet loses, laments, finds, loses, and finds love for women, if not humanity. Sings about it all.

Uncut Summary (The full plot synopsis, including spoilers. Fair warning.)
In 1952, India, the young poet Vijay (Guru Dutt) searches for love and work. He is clearly a very gifted poet who delivers his verses with an incredible singing voice. Yet, he is spurned everywhere he goes. While he would like to sing profound verses about lost love and the ills of society, publishers and audiences have no desire to listen.

Vijay, left, receives just one of many rejections of his poetry from a publisher.
At his family's meager home, his mother tries to offer him a charity dinner, but his two older brothers heap shame and guilt on him for not being a “working” member of the family. Vijay then discovers that one brother has sold some of his poetry as waste paper. Despite his loving mother's pleas to either stay or take her with him, Vijay departs home alone.

In a nearby market, Vijay discovers that his poetry was sold to a woman who read and was interested in the verses. Alas, the vendor does not know the woman. Later that day, by the river, Vijay hears a beautiful young woman singing words that he had penned. He follows her to her home, discovers that her name is Gulabo (Waheeda Rehman) and that she is a prostitute. Vijay is far less concerned about this than getting his poetry back, which he does.


Vijay shares a close moment with Gulabo.

Soon after, Vijay is reluctantly dragged to a college reunion by a former classmate. There, he sees his past lover, Meena (Mala Sinha), with whom he had a storybook romance until she left him, inexplicably. At the reunion, he recites some extemporaneous melancholy poetry, which falls on ears that are all deaf except for Meena's and a quiet dark-eyed figure, Mr. Ghosh. Upon leaving, Vijay is met by Ghosh, who is a publisher and offers him a job, though only as a menial worker. Vijay accepts.

At Mr. Ghosh's publishing company, it soon becomes clear that Ghosh, though realizing Vijay's dream of using his poetry to reach the public, has no interest in publishing the young man's work, calling it “trash”. Vijay overhears this, but swallows his pride and stays on the job. That evening, he goes to work at a party at Ghosh's home, where a gathering of prominent poets is taking place. Here, Vijay discovers that Ghosh's wife is none other than his lost love, Meena. He breaks out into another mournful piece of sung poetry, which captivates all of the other poets there. Afterwards, Vijay sees that Meena left him for the promise of material wealth with Ghosh. It becomes clear to Ghosh that there is something between Vijay and his wife, leading him to fire Vijay.

Through all of this, Vijay occasionally runs across the prostitute Gulabo, who has clearly fallen in love with Vijay through reading his poems. Vijay seems attracted to Gulabo's loving spirit, but is conflicted over how to behave towards her.

A few days after his firing, a broke and homeless Vijay is lost in thought on the banks of the Ganges when he sees his two brothers giving last rites to someone. Vijay discovers that it was his mother, who has died before he could make any final farewell. He retreats to the home of a vice-ridden fellow poet and promptly gets drunk. Intoxicated, he drifts through the brothel area of the city and sings a rousing verse about the social ills of his country. Yet again, however, no one is listening.

A drunken and despondent Vijay unleashes his poetry on an uncaring red light district.

Financially and spiritually at rock bottom, Vijay resigns himself to suicide. He heads towards some nearby train tracks, and even gives his jacket to an emaciated vagrant, who then quietly follows him to the train yard. Just as Vijay's about to throw himself in front of an oncoming locomotive, the vagrant gets his foot caught on a different track. Vijay goes back to pull him free, but fails. Vijay survives, but in a state of shock. In a case of mistaken identity, the country at large believes Vijay to have been killed by the train, thanks to the jacket that the vagrant had been wearing when run down.

Thinking her love to be dead, Gulabo goes to Ghosh to publish Vijay's surviving poems, not knowing Ghosh's feelings towards the young man. Instead, Gulabo finds Meena in the office, and quickly discerns that Meena was the inspiration for so many of Vijay's poems of lost love. Just as this discovery is made, Ghosh arrives. He gladly accepts Vijay's poems from Gulabo, realizing that he can reap enormous profits from the presumed-dead poet.

Ghosh's plan works all too well. Vijay's poetry is a nationwide publishing sensation, touching the dispossessed souls of the populace and raking in millions. However, a problem arises for Ghosh – Vijay awakens from his stupor in the hospital. He is initially put into a sanitarium for claiming to be the famous poet Vijay, and is kept there after Ghosh, a former colleague, and even his own brothers refuse to identify him. They realize that their gravy train will most likely only continue rolling as long as Vijay is “dead”.

Eventually, Vijay manages to escape with the help of his friend, local massage oil salesman and goofball, Abdul Sattar. It has now been a year since his “death”, and Vijay follows a throng to a memorial service in his honor. At the service, the ever-cunning Ghosh lambastes the audience for being the reason that Vijay committed suicide. Seeing the scene and infuriated by the greed, avarice, and materialism he sees at work, Vijay breaks into an impassioned verse railing against these social ills. All present are stunned, including Gulabo, who is the only one who is genuinely joyed to see that Vijay is alive.

After the public revelation that he is alive, Vijay's former detractors and enemies turn coat and try to ally themselves with him now that he is on the verge of becoming immensely wealthy by acting as the country's living voice. At what is meant to be a public recognition of his true identity, Vijay disavows his name and leaves the angry mob to tear each other apart, only further acting out the very corruption that Vijay no longer wants a part of.

That night, at her brothel, a saddened Gulabo slinks into deep feelings of loss. This changes when, much to her surprise, Vijay appears at the gate. In his eyes is a profound melancholy as he tells Gulabo that he is going to go away. When she asks to where, he simply replies that he will go until he does not need to go any farther. He asks Gulabo if she will go with him, to which she gives a wordless smile. The two walk, hand in hand, into the night.

Vijay arrives at Gulabo's brothel to announce his departure from society.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (Done after this first viewing, before any research)

It's now been about 24 hours since I watched Pyaasa, and I can't get it out of my head. This is a good thing.

After my girlfriend and I watched the movie, we were both rather quiet as we absorbed everything that had been thrown at us during the movie's two-and-a-half hours. As you can see from the mere length of my earlier synopsis, there are plenty of pivotal plot points, which make for a epic story. Add to this the Bollywood mode of adding music, and you now have an even larger piece of work. But it was neither the storyline nor the extended soundtrack that gives Pyaasa its weight. No. It's the tone and the themes.

Anyone who has read my reviews of the musicals Meet Me In St. Louis or Singin' In The Rain knows that the genre is probably my least favorite. While Pyaasa is clearly a musical, I found that I didn't mind the songs. Unlike so many Hollywood musicals, these Indian numbers were not invasive or written merely to be independent hit songs that were shoehorned into the picture (this is something that I found Meet Me In St. Louis particularly guilty of). Rather, the songs in Pyaasa are artistic expressions of the characters' feelings, and it is these very feelings that sets the movie even further above its musical brethren.

Nearly all musicals that I've seen are optimistic in tone. Sure, there may be a sad little tune thrown in here and there, but everything is generally upbeat. The songs in Pyaasa, however, have a beautifully melancholy attitude running through them all. Whether they're about unrequited love, frustration at a diseased society, or a resigned acceptance of both, there's a genuinely Romantic power to them that is absent from most musical soundtracks. In fact, the only other “sad” musical that I have seen is Lars Von Trier's uber-downer, Dancer In the Dark, but that film brought depressing to new lows despite how skillfully it was made. Pyaasa taps deeply into the ennui but it never dragged me so far down that I couldn't see a certain amount of beauty to it.

Here's a clip of one of the great songs. There are no subtitles, but the emotions are as clear as can be. This is from the class reunion at which Vijay sees his past love, Meena. I needn't explain just how he feels about her:



On top of all of this, the music is, on the whole, fantastic. While I don't really like when the singers send their voices soaring into the wavering, higher registers, the rest of the time the vocalists displayed amazing chops. All of the songs were either catchy or touching, depending on the requirements of the scene. A few songs may have gone on a tad too long, but many were quick hitters that popped up and then got out of the way of the story. I find that I really like the Indian styles with the sitar, accordion, and percussive instruments.

Another general strength is the overall story. Granted, the notion of a gifted and tortured artist being unappreciated and scorned by society is hardly new. Still, this movie imbues Vijay with thoughts and words that tap into the more universal plight of humanity. The vehicle of the love stories is a bit hackneyed, and even the “mistaken death” plot line is a rip-off of Sullivan's Travels, but the movie is effective in making the larger points.

As far as the other technical merits, they were a somewhat strange hodgepodge. Director and star Raja Dutt apes the visual and musical scoring style that had preceded him. Cinematography-wise, one can see many similarities with earlier Hollywood masterpieces like Citizen Kane and Casablanca. He does it very well, even if he wasn't exactly breaking new ground. The score is an odd scattering of popular melodies ranging from classical European to snappy American folk. The shifts were sometimes strange, bordering on comical, but they don't greatly diminish the overall film.

The acting is another point that is a mixed bag. The primary actors, especially star and director Raja Dutt, are excellent. However, most of the other parts are overdone in the throwback melodramatic styles of previous decades. It doesn't help that much of the dialogue is rather simplistic an stagey.

Would I watch this movie again? Perhaps. I have to say that the DVD version I watched appeared to be an older edition. This made for some questionable subtitles and a rather grainy look. If a reliable company like Criterion Collection were to give it a facelift and some updated translation, I would love to see it for the more polished aesthetics.

Pyaasa was a pleasant surprise, and one of the more singular films I've watched on the list yet. I can't say that it turned me into a Bollywood fan, but it has piqued my interest and given me some ideas and images that will stay with me for years to come.

Here's a clip of perhaps the most charged song in the movie. This is near the end, when Vijay sees the mob and his enemies figuratively feasting on his presumed corpse. He can take no more, and his song slowly builds to a fever pitch by the end:


Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love This Movie (Done after some further research)

Wow. Of the 47 films that I've watched for this blog thus far, Pyaasa wins the award for having the least amount information available. I'm sure this would be different if I could speak Hindi. I can't, so there's little to add to my own subjective views above.

There are a few interesting odds and ends, though. One is the all-too familiar tale of studio meddling. Raja Dutt wanted the ending to be Vijay walking off alone. The studio, certainly fearful that such an end would alienate a larger audience, demanded that Gulabo go with him. I have to say that, unlike the other movies in which such modifications were mandated, I was alright with this one. Maybe I was simply in a more romantic mood while watching it, but I was glad that my heart could hang its hat on something after Vijay's wholesale rejection of society.

On a minor, more amusing note is that the film crew wanted to film the red light district scene (maybe the most powerful and beautiful of the entire film) on location in Calcutta. They made it there, but were run off by a pack of local pimps. Among all of the problems that film makers have faced in history, I can't say that I've heard of such a thing.

Here is that famous scene in the brothel area. This is when Vijay is overwhelmed by the state of affairs in his beloved country:


That's a wrap. 47 shows down, 58 to go.

Coming Soon: The Sweet Smell of Success (1957)
Watched this one about a year ago, and thought it was decent. I've always enjoyed Burt Lancaster, and he plays a real piece of work in this one.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #37: Singin' In The Rain (1952)

Directors: Stanley Donen, Gene Kelly

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about ten years ago)

Teaser Summary (no spoilers)

Cheeseball silent film star stumbles through transition to talkies while finding love and dancing, wearing a shit-eating grin.

Uncut Summary (The full story, including spoilers. Fair warning)

It's 1927 and silent film stars Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) and Lina LaMont (Jean Hagen) are the toast of Hollywood. They are in the middle of a string of commercially successful, if formulaic romance/adventure movies. Despite their obvious film success, however, the two could not be more different in real life. Don is a happy-go-lucky man who, with his closest friend Cosmo (Donald O'Connor) has worked his way up through the entertainment world by building his singing and dancing chops in all manner of low-brow acts. Lina is a no-talent, dim-witted, high maintenance egomaniac who seems to believe herself a princess simply because she plays them in the movies.

Along comes the landmark film The Jazz Singer – the first talking picture. While most of Hollywood dismisses it as a novelty gimmick, the film's smash success sends all other studios scrambling to follow suit, including Don and Lina's. The transition could not be rougher. Though Don has some trouble, the biggest problem is Lina, whose pretty face is no longer enough. Her high, shrieking New York “city goil” accent cannot be tamed into anything listenable. Not even costly enunciation lessons can can break through her thick skull or provincial, nasal voice.

To the rescue comes Don's new love, Kathy Seldon (Debbie Reynolds), an adorable, spunky little entertainer whose remarkable dancing ability is only outdone by her incredible singing. Cosmo hatches the idea of using Kathy's voice as an unseen proxy for Lina. Since Lina's is the beautiful face that viewers know and love, they'll have her lip synch the dialogue and songs as Kathy sings them.

Cosmo, Kathy and Don rip through one of their many happy little tunes.

The plan works, and the latest Don Lockwood/Lina LaMont film is made. Once the movie is in the can and awaiting its premier, however, Lina starts to do the one thing that she probably shouldn't: think. Jealous of Don and Kathy's love and Kathy's genuine talent, Lina attempts to legally blackmail the movie studio into making Kathy her permanent voice. The studio head is furious, as he has plans to groom Kathy into their next big star. Flustered, all are left to stew on Lina's selfish machinations.

Everything comes to a head at the movie premier, where the film is shown to an audience who loves it. To roaring applause, Lina decides to really drive her plan home. She attempts to give a speech, but her true voice and condescending comments baffle the crowd. The uncertain viewers demand that she sing, “like in the picture.” Knowing that she has no hope of singing as well as Kathy, Don and Cosmo create the perfect set-up: they tell Lina to lip sync the words as Kathy sings the song just behind Lina and a dividing curtain. In the middle of the song, the curtain is raised, Lina is exposed as a fraud, Kathy's true talent is revealed, and all of the good guys live happily ever after.

Exit, stage right.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after this most recent viewing, before any research)

This musical very often flirted with sliding into the same category as Meet Me In St. Louis, West Side Story, and The Sound of Music: musical films that I simply can't stand. It did, however, manage to fall just on the right side of the line separating amusing viewing from insufferable fluff.
I guess the key ingredient for me was the intentional cheese factor. There is a self-awareness that, while not perfect, was present enough to provide some timeless laughs. From the jump, you get Don Lockwood's shit-eating grin as he shows up at he and Lina's latest premier. While on the red carpet for the pre-show interview, he claims to have always used the word “dignity” as his motto. During this pompous speech, we're treated to a montage of ridiculous and demeaning jobs that he's taken in the past. The scenes are actually pretty funny, and the sarcasm underlying it works well.

This self-effacing tone keeps surfacing occasionally throughout the film, though in fits and starts at times. When its not there, Singin' In the Rain does become rather tiresome. The most obvious moment of this is a bizarre “advertising” sequence during the “Beautiful Girls” number, which seems to be nothing more than an excuse to show off an array of fashion models posing in various costumes. It was a rather bizarre waste of screen time.

It's really the great irony of the film to me: most of the humor is based on ridiculing the superficiality of popular silent films and its stars. And while it's funny to see how talkies exposed this superficiality in the film, the film Singin' In the Rain is, itself, a showcase of superficiality in many ways. You have to acknowledge that Kelly, O'Connor and Reynolds were phenomenally talented singers and dancers. Still, the movie is almost all about flash and show. Sure, it's not as shallow as bad silent films, in which you just needed a few few pretty faces and melodramatic physical acting, but it is still a pretty shallow exercise all the same. If not for the novelty and flash of technicolor cinematography to show off the hyper-colored costumes and sets, I have to wonder if this film would have been such a marvel in its day.

Here's a perfect example of the useless, harmless tone of the film, as seen in the well-known bit, "Good Mornin'":




Despite my skepticism at the depth of the movie, I have to admit to how incredible Kelly, O'Connor and Reynolds were. Even if several of the musical numbers were contrived and hokey, some of them were masterpieces of choreography. Granted, by the end I had pretty much had it with the songs and dances (the 15-minute long 20s number was a test) and just wanted the story, such as it was, resolved, but when I was still engaged in entertainment bits, they were a lot of fun to watch.

The real gem of the movie is the second-billed Donald O'Connor, who may not have had the tanned good looks or raw dancing power of Gene Kelly, but seemed to have more pure athleticism and better comedic timing that his better-known co-star. His “Make 'Em Laugh” routine may be one of the best I've ever seen, being heavily rooted in the physical comedy of Keaton, Chaplin, The Three Stooges, and everything in between.


Here's a link to the astoundingly energetic "Make 'Em Laugh" number.

Singin' In the Rain didn't hold up on this second viewing as well as I had hoped, but it wasn't nearly the exercise in patience that watching other musicals has been. It's a light, fun little movie that I'd recommend to someone who likes musicals in general, and doesn't need an enormous amount of plot depth.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love this Movie (done after some further research)

No shockers here, though a few interesting little tidbits after doing some digging.

Like other films that are on TIME's list (It's a Wonderful Life, Detour, and others), this “classic” was not hailed as such immediately. The critics in 1952 seemed to like it, but considered it a touch inferior to the previous year's Kelly dance offering, An American In Paris. Like the other films mentioned, it was only after several years on the shelf and a re-release in 1958 that the masses and critics gave the movie a more special place in their hearts and minds. At this point, it's often praised as the hands-down greatest American musical of all time. I personally don't see it as such, preferring Swing Time or even Cabaret, but I can't knock anyone for the more popular opinion.

Something I didn't realize is that not one of the songs was composed solely for this movie. They were all written years prior, for a number of other shows. This may account for the seeming disconnectedness as far as lyrics and tone go. Not that it mattered much. It's clear that musicals certainly don't need inter-song cohesion to be effective. Each song in Singin' In the Rain, if not my cup of tea, is certainly snappy or catchy.

One better-known tidbit is that during the iconic title song and dance routine, Gene Kelly was operating with a 103 degree fever. I know that when I'm in such a state, I can barely lift my arm to change the channel on my TV, let alone bound and vault around with the reckless abandon that Kelly did during that routine. Incredible. Click this link to see what he did while sick as a dog.

Another curious anecdote is about Debbie Reynolds. At the time of the film, she apparently was a gymnast rather than a trained dancer. Her lack of skills in the latter area enraged Gene Kelly into yelling at her at one point, after which she left the set to have a good cry under a piano on another set. Who should find her there but one Mr. Fred Astaire. Taking pity, Astaire decided to work with Reynolds to get her dancing up to snuff. After reading this story, I can't help but move ol' Fred a few notches further up the “hulluva guy” ladder.

So the research really does nothing to change my opinion of this movie. A good, solid musical that provided me with enough entertainment so that it wasn't a struggle to get through, which his saying something considering my general opinion of the genre.

That's a wrap. 37 down, 68 to go.

Coming Soon: Ikiru (1952):

Another film about a sad old man, this one in Japan. We'll see if this poor old bugger makes out better than Umberto D.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #26: Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

Director: Vincente Minelli

Initial Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: none

20-Words-or-Fewer Summary (no spoilers, not that it matters):

Well-to-do, cheery family sings their way through a potential move from St. Louis to New York in 1903.

Blow-by-Blow Summary (detailed plot outline, with spoilers):

It's 1903 and the World's Fair is coming to Saint Louis, Missouri. The four sisters in the Smith family, a wealthy, happy tribe, have concerns. The two eldest daughters, Esther (Judy Garland) and Rose (Lucille Bremer), are pining to marry eligible bachelors. Esther has her sights set on the new dashing neighbor, John Truett (Tom Drake), while Rose awaits the proposal of another strapping young fellow. Their two much younger sisters are chuckling through the formative years of their innocent childhood.

Their father drops a bit of a bombshell when he arrives home one day and announces that the family will be moving to New York, so that he can take a new position. The family is greatly upset at the things that they will have to abandon in St. Louis: potential husbands, friends, and the fast-approaching World's Fair.

Here's Esther, regaling the riveted riders with her "Clang...the Trolley" tune.

The entire family sings their way through all of their joys and fears, with Mr. Smith finally making the decision not to move, in order to preserve his family's happiness and roots in their beloved city. His decision is rewarded in the end, when his daughters both become engaged and they all drink in the majesty of the World's Fair of 1904.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after one viewing, before any research on the film):

This movie can kiss my ass.

Up to this point, I would say The Awful Truth had been the most taxing on my patience. Now, there is a new, undisputed champion of insufferability: Meet Me in St. Louis.

It's going to take some research for me to figure out why this movie made TIME magazines list of 100 important films. I have my theories, which I'll expound upon below, but I don't need to ponder my feelings about watching this movie - I couldn't stand it.

I've made clear my feelings on musicals before. The only shot a musical has in entertaining me is if: (1) the story has enough substance to hold my interest, and (2) the music is well-woven into the fabric of the film. This is why a musical like Swing Time or Cabaret is enjoyable for me. Meet Me in Saint Louis contains everything that steers me away from the genre. It's pure fluff and a textbook case of style over substance.

The story is as edgy as a down pillow. I honestly couldn't have cared less about the privileged Smith clan and their "problems" of finding love and dealing with a possible move to New York. After watching Citizen Kane, Casablanca, and Double Indemnity, three movies with a great amount of creative artistry and psychological sophistication and maturity, Meet Me in St. Louis was like watching an episode of The Wiggles. Actually, the Wiggles think the Smiths are a bunch of pansies.

Shocking factoid: Double Indemnity and Meet Me in St. Louis were released mere months apart, both to great success. This blows my mind and speaks to some kind of multiple personality disorder that U.S. culture was beginning to undergo.

The songs are bubble-gum fare of the highest order. The best-known cuts are "Clang Goes the Trolley" and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," the latter of which is actually a classic and a legitimately great song. Aside from that, however, the only thing I can say about the music is that it's infectious. That's not a complement - I mean infectious in the same way that Mad Cow disease is infectious. You can't shake it and it will melt your brain.

You may (or may not) ask, "How on earth did you make it through nearly two hours of a film that you so obviously hated?" Good question. The answer is that my girlfriend and I took the opportunity to persistently add our own snarky commentary and voice-overs, a la Mystery Science Theater 3000. Two scenes in particular gave us some good ammunition. One was when a confused and enraged Judy Garland believes that her little sister has been roughed up by the neighbor, John. She promptly goes over and pummels the shit out of him. The second was when little "Tootie" Smith, after hearing her older sister attempt to sooth her sadness by singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," runs outside, grabs a massive stick, and commences to decapitate, eviscerate and disembowel the placid snowpeople in their front lawn. I'll save you the trouble and offer this latter little gem here (it is actually the one scene from the movie that I'd listen to and watch again):

That little chick's got a mean backswing.

Obviously, sarcasm was my only chance to survive through this piece of work. So, why is this movie touted so highly? My guess is that it was the first of its kind: a shockingly vibrant, well-shot formulaic musical. I'm not sure if there was a predecessor to it: Gone With the Wind type visuals, absolutely nothing controversial, and a string of snappy tunes, however sappy I think they may be. It's either that or simply the endurance of the Christmas song, which has become part of the American pop culture and holiday landscape.

I believe I've made myself clear. I do realize that many people love this type of film: The Sound of Music, West Side Story, Grease, and others could be put into the same category. I will say this though: even though I don't like any of these three films, either, at least they have a shade more edge to them. Meet Me in St. Louis is, to me, an absolutely G-Rated exercise in forgettable excess.

To paraphrase Leo from Miller's Crossing: if I never see it again, it'll be soon enough.

Take 2: Why Film Geeks Love this Movie (done after some further research):

Surprisingly, there's really not much out there to explain exactly what sets Meet Me in St. Louis apart from the others. Based on Richard Schickel's quick-shot review, I glean that this movie has a place in history for being the first film that offered the musical format using more down-to-earth characters (rather than high-minded, pure aristocrats, I assume).

The original review is an interesting little read, if only for two things. One is the line, "even the deaf should love this film." Oh, political correctness, where were you in 1944? While amusing, this little gag does point out that the visuals were impressive. The second thing the reviewer mentioned comes at the end - that the whole story and look of the film are too beautiful and attractive to be mistaken for the truth. These things, and the popularity of the songs, are seemingly what have dubbed this film a "classic."

And this, as stated before, is probably the bone that sticks in my craw. I don't mind heavy doses of complete fiction (I'm too big a fantasy and sci-fi nerd to try and argue that), but I can't take the froo-froo veneer of a film like Meet Me in St. Louis. Sorry.

That's a wrap. 26 shows down, 79 to go.

Coming Soon: Les Enfants du Paradis ("Children of Paradise"; 1945):

A 3-hour French drama set in a circus and revolving around a love triangle involving a mime. On the surface, it seems like a death sentence. Come on back and see if and how I survive this one.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.

Film #13: Swing Time (1936)

Director: George Stevens.

Release Country: United States

Times Previously Seen: once (about a year ago)

The Story (in which I go through all of the plot points, spoilers included. Fair warning):

John "Lucky" Garnet is a talented dancer and gambling man about to get married to the young Margaret, but the guys in his performing troupe don't want to lose their best talent. They foil his wedding, leaving Lucky to make a deal with his fiancee and her father - come up with $25,000 to show he's worth something and he can have her hand in marriage. He's off!

A broke Lucky and his former manager, Pop, soon run across Penny, a dance instructor who initially finds him annoying, but comes to love him. Together, they navigate a few bumps in the occupational road and forge Penny a career as dancer, all the while falling for each other, despite Lucky's still-standing engagement to Margaret. Lucky tries to honor his promise to marry Margaret by not getting involved with Penny, which Penny reads as disinterest. Thus, she nearly gives in to the advances of the suave but pompous maestro, Ricardo Romero.

In the end, Lucky and his Margaret both admit to loving other people, which frees Lucky up to lightheartedly foil Penny's marriage to Ricardo and give us the happy joining that we've been waiting for.

Take 1: My Gut Reaction (done after 1 viewing & before any research):

Great movie. And this is a lot coming from me, a person who vehemently dislikes nearly all musicals. I had forgotten that I had seen this one about a year ago, but once it began I remembered that it was one of the few musicals that stood out as likable to me. "Why?" you ask? Well...

I think my main problem with musical films is that they usually just don't mesh to me. West Side Story is supposed to be Romeo & Juliet, but on the dangerous mean streets, right? Well, pardon me if I don't buy into the danger when the "gangs" are wearing pastel skinny jeans, jumping around like figure skaters, and singing about how tough they are. Same goes for The Sound of Music - I simply can't get past thinking, "Stop singing and run from those Nazis, for chissakes!!"

Swing Time avoids all of this nonsense. Since the story is about entertainers, the song and dance numbers fit almost seamlessly into the story. Lucky is a dancer and Penny is a dance instructor, so it makes sense when they break into dances, and even sing together on occasion. Of course, it goes without saying that the two were phenomenal dancers. I'm no expert, but watching them made me want to take ballroom lessons to even approach the grace and fluidity of their movements. Check out this clip to get a taste for how damn awesome they were (I especially like the non-chalant walk-out at the end):



Freakin' amazing footwork.

The players were incredible. Fred and Ginger were all-around fantastic entertainers. There's really nothing that they didn't do well: singing and dancing are the obvious ones, but they were both really strong actors with great senses of comedic timing. I really like Astaire's character - he wasn't a drop-dead handsome guy, but he was pretty smooth. In Swing Time, the character of Lucky is a genuinely lovable high-rollin', tap dancin', cigarette smokin', wise-crackin' rogue. Ginger Rodgers was also great, easily keeping up with Astaire and absolutely smokin' hot, if I can apply such a modern idiom to one of the greats from our past.

Already alluded to is the comedy. This movie is legitimately funny and some of the cracks totally hold up 75 years later. All of the ingredients are there - a solid script and two strong lead actors who could pull it off. The final pieces to the puzzle were the two key supporting roles of Pop and Mabel, the male/female assistants of Lucky and Penny, played by Victor Moore and Helen Broderick. Sure, there are some hokey jokes, but these two made me laugh out loud more than a few times.

There are really only two things that bugged me a bit. One is that, at the end, there was a lot of one of my greatest pet peeves in acting - forced contagious laughter. You know - when a character pulls some goofy, slapstick gag and the entire cast starts laughing uproariously in a way that borders on insane. Well, the last 10 minutes of Swing Time is just such a yuk-fest and irked me somewhat.

The other is that the next-to-last dance act, Mr. Bojangles, is done by Astaire in blackface. I can't really say there's anything overtly racist about it, as he doesn't try to sing with any kind of condescending "ethnic" accent or anything, but the hair on the back of my neck stands up a bit when I see stuff like that from films past.

I've already told multiple friends about how much I enjoyed this film, and I'll continue to do so. Take it from a musical-hater - nearly everyone can find something to like about this movie, as long as they have no great objection to black and white and they understand that's it's all in good fun.

Take 2: "Why Film Geeks Love It" (done after some further research on the movie):

This was a first for me. In re-watching the movie with audio commentary by John Mueller, something was pointed out to me: just how much I should have ripped this movie for several weaknesses. There are some serious plot holes and questionable actions by the characters, and yet I didn't care. In fact, I didn't even think about them until the commentator pointed them out. To me, this shows just how charming the movie is. Even now, when I know the missing elements for which I would be pissed at another film, I don't really care. I still think Swing Time is great. Mueller put it well when explaining that it's a movie in which the sum of its parts is greater than the whole - each scene is great enough to gloss over the occasional lack of cohesion.

The Astaire/Rogers dance movies were monstrously popular. So much so that they essentially started a massive dance craze in the U.S., and even a few other countries. Apparently, some critics knock(ed) the films for being so much fluff, which is a fair observation. Still, I don't go into a musical/dance film to find serious social commentary or even tragedy or drama (West Side Story, anyone?), so I don't see the point of getting bent out of shape about it.

I shouldn't have been surprised at the comedic chops of Victor Moore & Helen Broderick. Moore was an accomplished vaudevillian & stage comedian, and Broderick was just naturally funny as hell. When I re-watched it, they were just as good.

Something interesting is that Fred Astaire absolutely refused to do an on-screen kiss with Ginger Rogers. He never felt that he was much of a "looker" and he thought such kisses were contrived and had already seen their day in cinema. So, he artfully teased the audience. Here's an amusing sample (start it at about 1:30):


The blackface bit. As stated in Take 1, I know that it wasn't really meant as offensive, and Mueller's commentary calmed my nerves a bit more. He pointed out that the dance was, as I suspected, a tribute to an old African-American dancer named Bill "Bojangles" Robinson. Astaire wasn't even using the full "white-wide lips" make-up that really appeals to stereotypes. Here it actually is (the Bojangles character shows up at 1:30):


The final thing that re-watching it gave me was a greater appreciation of the slower beauty of some of the dances and the way that they are meant to convey the emotional transitions of the characters. The dance numbers truly do take the place of dialogue and facial expressions, perhaps as even more accurate representations of the emotions that they evoke than words could ever be.

That's a wrap. 13 shows in the can. 92 to go.

Coming Soon: Le Crime de Monsieur Lange (1936):


Never seen this one. I would laugh at this poster if I hadn't discovered, in recent years, that there are some kick-ass noir films from France. Maybe this was one of the earliest? Come back and find out.

Please be sure to pick up all empties on the way out.