5 Fascinating Film Podcasts

After months of subscribing to podcasts that I never listened to on my PocketCast app, I finally settled in to listen to a few. Now I'm addicted! I love the personal, intimate feel of a great podcast and of course I have been especially interested in shows focused on movies.

I thought it would be fun to share some of the shows that I've been enjoying lately. This is by no means a "best of" list. I'm just getting started and have plenty of other shows to try. I plan to share more favorites in future posts. All podcast titles link to information about the show, including how to listen. If you'd like to spread the word about your own movie podcast, or tell me about a favorite show, please share in the comments!

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Noir Talk

The official podcast of the Film Noir Foundation is only a few episodes old, but I've already found it to be a great source of information about the foundation's Noir City festival and the world of noir. Get your feet wet with the first episode, which features an interview with noir czar Eddie Muller.

Pure Cinema Podcast

I've long been an admirer of Brian Saur's film recommendation blog Rupert Pupkin Speaks (to which I have contributed!), so I was excited to hear he had started a podcast with Elric Kane (Shock Waves podcast). It's a fun show because these two seem to have seen everything. It's almost difficult to listen to while doing the dishes or whatever, because I have to keep stopping to write down new titles I want to see. A favorite: episode 9 in which they match classic noir titles with newer flicks.

Book vs. Movie

I collect books which were the basis for classic films, so this podcast was a perfect fit for me. Two ladies named Margo dish about a book and the movie it influenced in a casual, coffeehouse chat style which is deceptively frothy; they always offer thought-provoking, incisive analysis. They cover a wide range of time periods, but there is plenty to keep classic film fans happy. Start with the Psycho episode, in which the Margos are rightly horrified by both the book and the movie.

New Yorker: The Front Row

This is a great podcast for people who don't think they have the time for podcasts. New Yorker critic Richard Brody gets right to business, usually taking less than four minutes to give thoughtful analysis of his film of the week, and in his delightfully soothing voice which gives the reviews a bedtime story vibe. Most episodes are videocasts, though they can be appreciated without the images. Brody covers every conceivable time period, genre and nation in his review of cinema. I have learned so much from these brief episodes.  Just listen to all of them.

You Must Remember This

I feel silly mentioning Karina Longworth's incredibly popular podcast; who doesn't know about her by now? However, I can't leave her out either, because she is the reason I became interested in searching out more  movie-themed podcasts. I like how Longworth has varied her show, sometimes doing a one-off on an actress, other times embarking on a multi-episode arc. She does her research and she knows how to share these stories in an engaging way. There are so many good places to start with this show; one of my favorite arcs is the six episodes dedicated to Joan Crawford.

On Blu-ray: Robert Morse and a Crazy Cast of Cameos in The Loved One (1965)

The Loved One takes a look at the superficial rot in society and gleefully flashes a pair of fangs. This satire of Hollywood, the funeral industry and grand gestures hiding devious acts jabs at corruption and greed. It's full of cameos, some performed by actors who for the most part have glossy, uncomplicated personas, and all seem to relish getting a chance to show a little edge. Now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, this is an unusual, rebellious film.

Robert Morse stars as Dennis Barlow, a young, plagiarist poet who travels from the UK to Hollywood and takes up residence with his Uncle Francis (John Gielgud). When his elderly relative hangs himself after losing his longtime job at a move studio, the leader of the local British colony (Robert Morley) insists that their compatriot have a grand funeral.

Barlow goes to the luxurious Whispering Glades cemetery and mortuary, where movie star glamorous ladies in veils and low-cut dresses wear elegant smiles, but attend to their customers with vicious efficiency. They quietly turn away Jews and gently shame acceptable applicants into choosing the most luxurious and expensive accommodations for their loved ones.

Obsessed with the tragically naïve cosmetician Aimée Thanatogenos (Anjanette Comer), Dennis begins to spend a lot of time at Whispering Glades, where he meets the corrupt owner, the Reverend Wilbur Glenworthy (Jonathan Winters) and the unhinged, but professional head embalmer Mr. Joyboy (Rod Steiger), who also lusts after Aimée, imagining her as an addition to his bizarre life with his gluttonous bedridden mother.

Left with little inheritance, Dennis goes to work at the local pet cemetery, owned by Reverend Glenworthy's twin brother Henry (Winters), where he also meets the genius teen rocket builder Gunther Fry (a remarkable early performance by 23-year-old Paul Williams). While Joyboy and Dennis pressure Aimée for marriage, the Reverend plots to improve his profits by any means necessary. It is not a healthy atmosphere for anyone with a hint of morals.

The Loved One seems to have irritated many upon its release. Source novel author Evelyn Waugh didn't want to be associated with the film, but was days from his death upon its release. Several offended studio executives marched out of an early screening, which delighted director Tony Richardson who seems to have felt the arrow hit the right spot. While the sensual and cynical elements of this dark comedy do not have the same power to offend that they did upon the film's release, it is easy to see how the executive types could have been annoyed and the moral types clutching their pearls. You could apply the monsters here to any time; the message is evergreen.

Perhaps it is the actors who came out best here, simply because they seem to be enjoying their roles so much. In the leads Morse, Comer and Winters commit in a way that is palpable, you feel their belief in their characters. It was also fun to see the way Liberace, Tab Hunter and Milton Berle snagged the opportunity to play against type in a trio of bitter cameos. Other standout bit roles include Lionel Stander, Roddy McDowell and Barbara Nichols, all thoroughly understanding the spirit of the project. And then there is Steiger, clearly having the time of his life in a creepy, kooky and outrageous performance that was reportedly his favorite.

For a film about corruption, deception and losing faith, The Loved One is a lot of fun. Perverse in a way the times call for.

The picture looks amazing, mostly due to the work of producer and cinematographer Haskell Wexler, though the disc quality is also good.

Special features on the Blu-ray include a theatrical trailer and the featurette Trying to Offend Everyone, which features interesting interviews with Comer, Morse and Williams. I always like to hear Williams speak in particular; he's got a great sense of humor.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Flicker Alley--7 Great Flicks From Early Women Filmmakers: An International Anthology

In the weeks since I participated in the Flicker Alley giveaway for the three disc DVD/Blu-ray set Early Women Filmmakers: An International Anthology, I've spent a lot of time watching and rewatching the films in this set. Considering there are twenty-five varied entries here, from full-length films and shorts to one legendary outburst from a Dorothy Arzner flick, it's impressive to me how many of them I appreciate not just objectively, but on a personal level.

The overall message here: women do not have a single unifying characteristic as filmmakers except their sex. Their contributions to cinema have been diverse, sometimes pioneering and often worthy of celebration. They created magic in the early years of the industry and they should have been able to do so in larger numbers in the years to follow. Hopefully that will eventually be corrected in our current industry, though it cannot happen fast enough. In the meantime, there are these films to remind us of the great talents in our cinematic past.

There's a lot to unpack in this set, so I thought I'd share some of the titles that stood out for me in this amazing anthology:

Une Histoire Roulante (1906), Alice Guy-Blaché

This short consists of about two minutes of a man inside a barrel, rolling out of control over people, a high railway bridge and anything else unfortunate enough to be in his path. It feels like the birth of screen slapstick.

Suspense (1913), Lois Weber

If Guy-Blaché can be given credit for bringing physical comedy to the screen, Weber should get her laurels for creating a cinematic language for suspense films. This tensely-paced short about a young mother who is terrorized by a home-invading tramp is still terrifying over one hundred years after its debut.

La Souriante Mme. Beaudet (1922), Germaine Dulac

Combining the brutal slap of reality with a dream world of fevered speculation, this tale of a woman who despises her crude, controlling husband is both harsh and beautiful. Presenting feminist before there was a word for it, Dulac bravely presents a vision of female defiance.

The Peasant Women of Ryazan (1927), Olga Preobrazhenskaia

A devastating film of heartbreaking labor, physical abuse, loyalty and lack thereof, among a group of rural women. This Soviet drama is also visually beautiful, with magically composed location photography and an intimate eye on the customs and social life of these hard living people.

The Stolen Heart (1934), Lotte Reiniger

Reiniger specialized in silhouette animation, using stop motion and cut-outs to give life to fairy tales, fables and operas. I've always been amazed how much emotion she can illicit from these cut outs, using the simplest motion and designs. Here a village is terrorized by a sort of demon who steals their musical instruments. The instruments have their own ideas though and do not accept captivity away from their owners.

A Night on Bald Mountain (1933), Claire Parker and Alexandre Alexeieff

Set to Modest Mussorgsky's menacing titular composition, this animated short was made using pinscreen animation. This method, for which Parker became celebrated, uses a screen in which movable pins are inserted to make different patterns. The designs, and the way they are filmed to capture different shadow effects, are unlike any other form of film animation. Here the effect is creepy and fantastical, fitting perfectly with the score.

Meshes of the Afternoon (1943), Maya Deren

In her most famous work, experimental filmmaker Maya Deren creates a work of beauty and haunting uncertainty. She stars in this exploration of the power of a definitive moment and how it can expand into an obsession.


Many thanks to Flicker Alley for providing a copy of the collection for review.

On Blu-ray: James Garner and Lee Remick in The Wheeler Dealers (1963)

Movie sexism in the sixties is often a difficult terrain to travel, no matter how much the filmmakers think they have empowered their female lead, there is inevitably a man behind any happy ending. I found much of this nature cringe about in The Wheeler Dealers, but James Garner and Lee Remick are ridiculously sexy in the lead roles and they are supported by an amusing supporting cast. Now available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, this good-looking, cheerful film is entertaining despite itself.

Remick is Molly Thatcher, a stock analyst who her boss (Jim Backus) would like to unload, but only if he can't be blamed for a sexist firing. He saddles her with selling stock at a firm he deems to be worthless, anticipating her failure. He is foiled by wealthy client Henry Tyroon who becomes infatuated with Molly and decides to help her find the value in this supposedly dying company.

Molly appreciates the help, but resists Henry, and her strong attraction to this charming supposed Texan. Turned off by the way he feels the need to control, or even buy, everything she struggles to focus on her career. She is also constantly diverted by his folksy millionaire friends, played with corny gusto by Chill Wills, Phil Harris and Charles Watts who seem harmless, but can get serious when it comes to meddling. In a pair of sly supporting roles Louis Nye and John Astin add their own complications.

There's plenty here that is pleasant to see and hear: novel situations, beautiful costumes, great performances, good zingers. Somehow not much of it sticks though. It isn't exactly shallow or lacking substance; there are some decent jabs at sexism (though it still riles me that Ms. Remick wasn't given the power to save herself), business and the absurdities of rampant capitalism. Despite the appeal of Remick and Garner they have only so-so chemistry; would this have been more memorable with Doris Day and Rock Hudson in the leads? Was there ever enough at stake here to create the proper tension? Garner in his prime is enough of a draw for me, but there's something a bit too by-the-numbers about this high quality, but not quite distinctive flick.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Review--Dawson City: Frozen Time (2016)

Filmmaker Bill Morrison's Dawson City: Frozen Time (2016) drifts through the past with bittersweet grace. To attempt to describe it as a documentary is to limit the extent of its creativity. It does document the ebb and flow of life in a Yukon Territory gold rush town, but with a paint brush instead of a pencil.

The film tells two parallel stories: that of the busy and dramatically fluid history of Dawson City and of the cache of hundreds nitrate films discovered beneath the town's hockey rink. Battered excerpts from these silent discoveries, many of them thought long lost, are juxtaposed with the images of the town as it grew, thrived and faded through the years.

Dawson City is essentially a silent film, which is fitting given the vintage of the reclaimed nitrate. With Alex Somers' low-key, elegiac score as background, film clips and moving shots of photos from the town's past are allowed to speak for themselves, with text added as necessary to fill in the details. The collage of images fill in pieces of the story at a languid pace, matching the times it describes.

The town was home to many famous faces over the years, including some who would find fame in Hollywood. Theater owner Sid Grauman was a newsboy there and Marjorie Rambeaux, William Desmond and writer Wilson Mizner all had their impact on Dawson as well. There's even a photo of Charlie Chaplin, there to do location filming for The Gold Rush (1925).

Taking in the whole story of the Dawson film discovery evokes simultaneous feelings of delight and loss. The town was the end of the road for hundreds of silent films during the early days of the industry. It was expensive to ship prints and studios didn't want the battered reels once they had completed their run.

So the films were stored, until they took up too much space. Then hundreds of them were thrown in the river, while another massive pile was burned. Miraculously, over 500 more reels were saved when they were used to fill in the town swimming pool, so that putting a temporary top over it would no longer be necessary for hockey season.

There the films were preserved for decades, and many of the townspeople knew they were there, unaware of their value. Sometimes bits of nitrate would poke out of the ice and kids would set them on fire for fun. The importance of what lay under the ice was not fully understood until they were discovered by an outside party who felt such a stash deserved a better fate.

I haven't seen Morrison's 2002 tribute to the beauty of decomposing film, Decasia, but I hear fans of that film will appreciate a similar style here. This is a must see for anyone interested in film restoration and recovery. It is a mesmerizing, mysterious and deliberate work.

On Blu-ray: Killer Tree Rampage in From Hell it Came (1957)

He was buried with seeds and came back as a tree monster!

How to describe From Hell it Came (1957)? It stars an angry, creakily mobile tree. The mood: a little Wizard of Oz (1939), a lot of Robot Monster (1953) and a hint of zombie and Godzilla radiation action. That's a start, but it's better for the sanity if you don't try too hard to analyze a movie about a demonic tree. Now the film is available on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, reportedly due to huge customer demand.

In the opening scene, tribal prince Kimo (Gregg Palmer) is executed by order of his tribal chief on a South Seas island, supposedly because he has killed a tribesman with modern medicine. In fact the chief has poisoned the man to discredit the research scientists on the island attending to the ill so that he can maintain his power. Forsaken by his wife and the tribespeople as well, before he is stabbed in the heart Kimo swears he will come back from the depths of hell to have his revenge.

While there's plenty of racism and half-hearted attempts at hula dancing in this sequence, it would be a lot more offensive if the chief didn't talk like a dude hanging around a street corner in Brooklyn. It plays like a Z-grade noir where everyone picked up the wrong costume and stumbled onto the island set.

Kimo is buried, and a new drama unfolds elsewhere on the island. Dr. Terry Mason (Tina Carver) arrives to join the research scientists, who have been studying the effects of radioactive fallout blown to the island from a atomic explosion in a small lab. There she is immediately pawed by old acquaintance Dr. Bill Arnold (Tod Andrews), who is using the sexual harassment ploy to break down her resistance to marrying him. The good doctor is missing an opportunity in Mrs. Mae Kilgore (Linda Watkins), widow of the trading post operator, and cheerfully willing to submit to an examination.

While on a walk, Terry and Bill come upon Kimo's grave, and notice a tree with an angry face growing out of it. With no thought as to whether tampering with this odd growth is a good idea, the scientists bring the tree to the lab, where they find it has a beating heart and is oozing green goo from a knife wound. Then, in their absence, the radioactive timber comes to life and trashes the lab before escaping. Unfortunately we don't get to witness this destruction.

A friendly native tells the scientists that this isn't the first time a tree haunted with an angry spirit has gone on a violent rampage. They even have a name for it: Tobanga. While they discuss the then clearly questionable practice of burying bodies with seeds, Tobanga goes on a murderous rampage, snatching up his unfaithful wife and killing the chief.

Once you actually see the tree in action, it becomes clear why we didn't get to see it destroy the lab; it can barely move its split trunk "legs" and doesn't appear able to raise its tree branch "arms" either. In fact, much like in Robot Monster, this creature is so clumsy, slow and lacking in flexibility that it is baffling that anyone could be killed by it. To escape it, all you need to do is walk away, slowly. But these are the people continuing to plant seeds with bodies, even after all the attacks and uprooting angry-looking trees without hesitation. Walking away is plausibly a challenge for the residents of this island.

When Tobanga dumps his wife in quicksand, she not only has failed to walk away, but once in the muck she seems to be doing her best to sink under the surface. With hardly a struggle, she slowly slides into the sludge, until she sticks a bit and tucks her arm in so that she'll go all the way under.

The tree itself is a work of 'B' movie brilliance: expressionless, almost completely inflexible, but fascinating because never before, or likely never again, has there been a screen monster quite like this one. It is one of the most bizarre of the sci-fi monsters and watching it waddle around gives this stinker of a movie much of its entertainment value. Add to this a cast of amusingly inept dimwits and a leading lady who screams more like an angry monkey than a human being, and you might not have a classic, but a memorable experience nevertheless.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

43rd Seattle International Film Festival: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920) at the Triple Door

Last night at the Triple Door I enjoyed my final archival screening of the 43rd Seattle International Film Festival: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920), starring John Barrymore and accompanied by the Austin, Texas-based combo The Invincible Czars.

The Barrymore films I tend to watch are from his ravaged years in the thirties, where he was still great, but not at his best, so whenever I get the opportunity to see him in his Don Juan, dashing prime, I often find myself surprised by how alive he was only a decade before. As Jekyll and Hyde he is lively and grotesque, full of mischievous energy and dangerous appetites. Like Orson Welles, you can tell how much he delights in transforming himself physically, glorying in his false nose, prosthetic fingers and horrifying skull dome, all things which could look ridiculous on a less adept performer.

This adaptation of the classic novel is not as explicitly racy as the pre-code take with Fredric March, but Barrymore makes his lascivious intentions quite clear. In some respect his Hyde's horrific behavior is not so far removed from that of Jekyll in his natural state; both are obsessed with their needs and oblivious to the damage they cause in pursuing them. It's just that one lays claim to morals and knows how to behave in high society.

It's an intense, efficiently paced film with a gut-churning forward momentum. Danger always seems imminent, giving you the feeling of trying to step on the brakes in order to relieve the unease. I think it is one of Barrymore's finest performances, because he was given the freedom to explore the extremes of these dual personalities and embrace the ugliness the actor always seemed to see within himself.

I've always believed that a silent movie score and those who perform it should not draw attention away from the film. For the most part I still feel like the music should be so intertwined with the film that you essentially forget that the musician(s) are there. However, I found myself feeling more flexible on the matter after watching this performance.

The Invincible Czars have created an unpredictable, engaging score and I enjoyed the spectacle of their performance as much as I appreciated the film. I was able to take in both, side-by-side, without feeling like I'd sacrificed much of the cinematic experience. Instead of accompaniment, it almost felt like an enhancement. I think in many cases, approaching music this way can be disrespectful to the film, but with the right title, tone and musicians, I now see how it can work.

Part of the appeal of the score was that it smoothly melded nostalgia with more modern sounds. Drifting, moody themes from composers like Satie and Debussy were woven into the band's own compositions, which focused on capturing the feel of the film in a visceral way. Manic laughter, hissing and repetitive vocalizing helped to draw out the horror on the screen.

It was an interesting experience, and a concept that could only succeed with a careful combination of elements, but it did here.

Check out my full SIFF 2017 coverage here.