My definition of a filmmaker is a man who presides over accidents.
-Orson Welles
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Nov 11, 2018
Nov 9, 2018
Podcasts for Classic Film Fans: 6 Great Episodes
Just when I think I’ve found every podcast worthy of a classic film fan’s attention, another batch of interesting choices comes across my radar. I’ve got some great finds this time around, in addition to some old favorites. The biggest heartbreak: the wonderful episode of FilmStruck podcast that I just enjoyed will be the last, as the streaming service it promotes will end November 29. However, knowing Alicia Malone, she will find another way to keep her valuable voice in that arena.
On to my latest picks. Show titles link to the episode:
The Made for TV Mayhem Show
Episode 5
November 21, 2015
Bad Ronald and Through Naked Eyes
One of my favorite podcast finds of the month is Amanda Reyes, television movie expert and host of The Made for TV Mayhem show. Reyes combines geekdom and scholarship in her always thought-provoking podcast which celebrates a wide array of flicks made for television. I started with her Bad Ronald podcast from a few years back because I found her via a promotional podcast for the new Warner Archive Blu-ray release of the film.
Warner Archive
October 18, 2018
Bad Ronald Talk with Amanda Reyes of Made for TV Mayhem
This is the podcast which introduced me to Amanda Reyes. In addition to discussing Bad Ronald, she shares lots of interesting insight about TV movies. I love the way she puts the audience for these films in perspective by describing viewing statistics and the options available for home viewers at the time.
Criterion Now
Episode 71
October 26, 2018
RIP FilmStruck
Not many people in my daily life were as gutted as I was when it was announced that the suits at AT&T had pulled the plug on FilmStruck. I found solace online, where there were hundreds of fans as saddened by the loss of this amazing source of cinema as I was. This episode is essentially a reaction to the news and an analysis of what it all means. It was helpful to me as a way to process the loss of a valuable service that brought so much joy to my movie-watching life.
FilmStruck
Episode 27
Producer Frank Marshall discusses The Other Side of the Wind
One of the saddest things about losing the FilmStruck service is that it means the cancellation of Alicia Malone’s addictive podcast. She is such an effective interviewer, always drawing out profound observations from her guests, who often seem thrilled to be discussing their material at the deep intellectual and emotional level that she encourages. In her final episode, she discusses The Other Side of the Wind with Frank Marshall, who was invited to work on the production by Peter Bogdanovich. As many of the people who were involved with the movie have died in the years since it was filmed, any firsthand anecdotes about its making are invaluable and Marshall is a great storyteller. If the show has to end, this was a great way to go out.
Fiat Vox/ Berkeley News Podcast
Episode 43
“White voice” and hearing whiteness as difference, not the standard
This episode of the promotional podcast which highlights University of Berkeley programs is a brisk, but often thought provoking five minutes. It explores the Mid-Atlantic accent, a British-flavored way of speaking that was once popular with broadcasters and performers, and how it made a non-regionalized, “white” form of speech the norm.
Switchblade Sisters
August 30, 2018
The Night of the Hunter with Night Comes On Director Jordana Spiro
Film critic April Wolfe has found the perfect combination for a podcast: genre films and lady filmmakers. Each episode is a discussion of a film chosen by the guest. She's spoken to an amazing array of directors, including Anna Biller, Karen Kusama, and Martha Coolidge. The combination of film history knowledge these women possess and their enthusiastic fandom make for fascinating discussions. I’ve loved every episode so far; they’re as varied as the guests and all worth a listen. I suggest starting with the Night of the Hunter ep with Jordana Spiro because it was the first one I tried and it got me excited to listen to the rest.
Nov 7, 2018
On DVD: Eleanor Parker in The Last Ride (1944)
Briskly-paced and clocking in at just under an hour The Last Ride (1944) is a moderately entertaining wartime crime programmer. While chiefly of historical interest, it has a little more zing than other flicks of its kind. The film recently made its DVD debut from Warner Archive.
Though Eleanor Parker’s image dominates the promotional art, and she is the most lively presence in the film, she is a supporting character in this cops and mobsters drama about the wartime tire bootlegging racket. Richard Harris is Lieutenant Pat Harrigan, an ambitious detective who sets his sights on a gang that sells subpar tires to drivers hit hard by wartime rationing of rubber. His work is complicated by the fact that his brother Mike (Charles Lang) is involved with the criminals, not to mention that they’re both sweet on their foster sister Kitty Kelly (Parker).
What follows is a familiar parade of mob hits, double crosses, and fist fights. With little to distinguish it, it’s oddly more entertaining than you’d expect. This is partly due to the youthful energy of the opening scenes, which crackle with an easy verve missing from the rest of the film. The brief scenes with the charismatic Parker are also especially pleasant; she’s already clearly ready to leave behind girlfriend roles and embrace stardom.
Aside from these enjoyable elements though, there’s a reassuring efficiency to The Last Ride. It can get silly: an earnest conversation about wartime rubber rationing comes off as cheesy and obvious and brings the action to a stop. For the most part though, its footing is sure. This is a strong programmer. It isn’t a must-see, but it delivers on its modest aims.
The disc has no special features.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
Nov 4, 2018
Quote of the Week: Frank Capra on Drama
I made mistakes in drama. I thought drama was when actors cried. But drama is when the audience cries.
– Frank Capra
Nov 1, 2018
On Blu-ray: TV Horror Classic Bad Ronald (1974)
For years, being a fan of television movies has meant squinting at faded VHS prints or watching whatever somewhat viewable titles I could find streaming online. I’ve just come to expect that as part of the experience. That’s why one of the most mind-blowing aspects of watching the new Warner Archive Blu-ray of television horror classic Bad Ronald (1974) is simply that it looks sharp, clean, and vivid, in addition to sounding great.
Of course there is more to Bad Ronald than looks. It’s a profoundly creepy film, presented with a sort of cold-hearted efficiency that makes it all the more chilling. It’s hard to believe that this twisted flick was broadcast on prime time television, let alone to the millions of viewers that the Movie of the Week could attract in those days of more limited viewing options.
The titular Ronald (Scott Jacoby) is a misfit teen who lives alone with his over-protective mother (Kim Hunter). When his parents divorced, his father agreed to relinquish all parenting rights to his son in exchange for avoiding child support payments. Without other friends or family, it is these two against the world.
After being rejected and humiliated by the girl he wants to date, Ronald is mocked by her little sister. In the resulting argument, he accidentally kills her. Instead of going to the police, he buries her in a shallow grave. Aware of how poorly Ronald has handled the situation and terrified of losing her son, Mama Jacoby devises a plan to wall up Ronald in the spare bathroom, where he can hide until the heat dies down and they can skip town.
For a while it seems like they will get away with it, but then Mrs. Jacoby dies during gall bladder removal surgery. A new family, with three teenage daughters, moves into the house. Ronald watches them through a hole in the wall, while becoming increasingly unhinged as he pursues his interest in painting to create his own fantasy world in captivity.
One of the most effective things about Bad Ronald is the way it weaves realism into its outrageous premise. It’s hard to believe the family would never discover a teenage boy living in their walls, or even notice the eye-level holes surrounding them, but the way Ronald reacts to the situation rings true. His psychopathic tendencies bloom without social pressure to be otherwise. Unlike many films about captivity, he actually looks like he has been locked up with his paints and decaying trays of food. He’s dirty and greasy; you can almost smell him.
The family that inhabits Ronald’s home also feels real. They’re a group of people too occupied with their busy lives to truly see each other, but still functional and loving. The fights between the sisters are especially authentic, full of screeching and frustration, but always with an underlying feeling of love and belief in each other. Watching these essentially decent people strive for happiness makes the horror within their own walls that much more terrifying.
Ronald is pure horror, but if you read any viewer comments about the film, it’s clear that he is also in some ways relatable. As he sits on the couch nibbling an apple from the side of his mouth like a pensive rat, he inspires both revulsion and sympathy. Everyone has had a social outcast in their lives who fails despite all efforts to fit in. Many of us are that outcast. Just about everyone has had an idea, if even briefly, of how it feels to not fit in. We cringe when Ronald terrorizes a teenage girl or misreads social cues, and we know he must face punishment for his more serious actions, and yet we also understand and feel for him.
Bad Ronald is a suspenseful, often scary film that works well within the limitations of television horror.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
Oct 30, 2018
Farewell to FilmStruck: My Viewing Suggestions (A Work in Progress)
Speaking in stages of grief, the denial phase lasted a long time for me when I heard that the film streaming service FilmStruck would be no more after 11/29. This beautifully curated site has become invaluable to me as a way to find amazing new movies and learn more about them via a rich array of special features, in addition to being the only way to stream my favorite classics.
The brilliance of FilmStruck was in the programming. Its weekly themed categories were a fantastic way to explore new areas, filmmakers, and stars. I love how they cast a wide net over cinema, including everything from monster movies to the wildest experimental flicks, and just about anything you could imagine in between. It’s also been valuable for the diversity it celebrates, promoting works from different cultures and shining a light on films made by women and people of color.
While I will be able to find most of the titles that were on my 343 deep watchlist at my local library, I will lose the insight and viewing suggestions I gained from the knowledgeable team at FilmStruck. In her essential Slate piece about the demise of the service, Joanna Scutts wrote: “if the only art you see is the kind of art you’ve already heard of, then you’re missing the challenge and the thrill of true discovery.” This is what hurts the most about losing the site.
As I settle into the acceptance phase, I have pared my watchlist down to a still steep, but more manageable 68 films (Some of them are shorts. I can do this!). I’ve decided to share my favorites here in the hopes that those of you who are subscribers may find new cinematic treasures in this last month of a truly magnificent site. Bookmark this post, because I will be adding to it all month:
Update 11/5:
Original Post:
Oct 25, 2018
On Blu-ray: The Swarm (1978), The Cyclops (1956), The Queen of Outer Space (1958)--Oh My!
I love films that entertain in ways their creators haven't planned. It’s such a happy accident when a story approached with sober intent becomes a little off-kilter, and as a result much more interesting. These kinds of flicks are my bread and butter, because they serve as a constant reminder not to take anything too seriously. That’s a philosophy one should consume daily. A trio of films like these recently made their Blu-ray debut through Warner Archive and I had a blast watching them.
The Swarm (1978)
This bee-blasted epic is the flick that killed the enormously profitable disaster movie industry. Helmed by the granddaddy of the genre, Irwin Allen, it was such a flop that the director refused to ever discuss the film again. Disaster films aren’t known for their sober dramatics, so the fact that this take on large scale chaos is known for being one of the goofiest of the genre is something special.
The Swarm seems to star just about everyone with name recognition who held a SAG card at the time, as was typical for the genre. The massive cast is led by Michael Caine as a scientific expert who is always arching an eyebrow and shouting because he can’t believe how dumb everyone is about bees. He falls for a military doctor played by Katharine Ross, who usually has someone making her life miserable in her films, so she might as well deal with bees. In the midst of the “always constipated” phase of his career, Henry Fonda plays another scientist, though he does demonstrate uncharacteristic warmth for that period. Other names in this astonishing gathering of stars include Richard Chamberlin, Richard Widmark, Ben Johnson, Patty Duke, Jose Ferrer, Lee Grant, Bradford Dillman, Slim Pickens, Fred MacMurray, and Olivia de Havilland.
As an elegant schoolteacher sought after by Johnson and MacMurray, de Havilland perfectly captures the spirit of the film in a notorious moment where she observes the destruction caused by the bees outside the schoolhouse window and slowly turns to utter “ohhhhh” in a deep, guttural moan. It’s how you feel watching the movie and it also encapsulates the tone of the frenzied performances, gigantic bee hallucinations, and sweaty PTSD induced by these furry guys.
For a while it’s a blast. Then the action slows down a bit too much in the second half. However, nothing can erase the chic delight of Olivia’s old Hollywood-style anguish.
Special features on the disc include a theatrical trailer and the behind-the-scenes documentary Inside the Swarm.
The Cyclops (1956)
This is the kind of movie where a scientist muses, “Now I know I wasn’t imagining things when I thought I saw that giant lizard yesterday” in the same tone he might wonder where he put his car keys. Astonishing things happen, but no one seems to find them all that strange. The titular mono-sighted monster of this kooky sci-fi romp doesn’t make an appearance until minute 45 of its 66 minute running time (though you do get a dramatic blast of “Cyclops vision” before that happens). Before then, in addition to that oversized reptile, you get a glimpse of an enormous bird chomping on a rat, and the feeling that something has gone drastically awry.
Before these astonishing creatures make their appearance, a group of four embarks on an expedition. Susan Winter (Gloria Talbott) assembles three men to assist in her search for her missing test pilot fiancé (Duncan Parkin). They are a varied bunch: a scientist (James Craig), a pilot, and a mining expert (Lon Chaney, Jr.) who’s an opportunist with his own extracurricular activities planned for this journey. Those giant creatures, which reached mega-size due to that popular 1950s culprit radiation, change their plans.
Legendary, and that overused term is apt here, voice artist Paul Frees supplies the animal sounds, which are amazing because they fit the beasts, and yet sound precisely human at the same time. You can almost picture him at the microphone, having a wonderful time.
Once the one-eyed wonder appears, he doesn’t speak, instead alternating between groaning and shouting. His abrupt entrance at the mouth of a cave, where he pops up and bellows “RAWR!” is bizarre in the most delightful way. He is in full “get off my lawn” mode, no curiosity, no fear, just pure rage that these people exist. Eventually he adds lust to his repertoire when he spots Susan, though you’ve got to wonder what he plans to do with such a tiny lady. Is this her boyfriend on radiation?
Despite his having no verbal ability, Susan insists on asking a barrage of questions, all of which are answered by a moan and more longing looks. The exchange gives the audience the opportunity to examine the creature’s melted face, crowded, dirty teeth and unblinking marble of an eyeball. The moment ends abruptly, because a snake plops onto the monster’s neck and he slowly begins to wind the confused, but remarkably calm animal around his neck in an attempt to make it look like they are fighting. That limp battle pretty much sums up the spirit of this odd flick.
The Queen of Outer Space (1958)
When I first heard that Zsa Zsa Gabor was the star of this sci-fi flick I thought she was a perfect choice for Queen of Outer Space. It turns out that title goes to Laurie Mitchell, Gabor's actually a scientist, but the kind of scientist who wears evening gowns and a full face of make-up while doing experiments, so she remained on brand. She’s also part of the resistance on her home planet Venus. The entire population is women, because men have been banned, and you know our girl Zsa Zsa wouldn’t stand for that.
Queen of Outer Space begins on Earth, with a group of men embarking on a journey to visit a space station. They have to change course though when the station is destroyed before their eyes. When they land on Venus, the crew is pleased to find themselves surrounded by women in miniskirts and heels. Obviously this script was written by a man, because that would never be a popular costume on a planet with only ladies.
The men find it hilarious that ladies are in control and do everything short of smacking bottoms to show they have no respect for their captors. While most of the women see this as all the more reason to keep men away from Venus, Zsa Zsa and her friends find the men irresistible. The battle of the sexes begins, with warriors in heels pursuing their masculine invaders down starkly, but tastefully decorated corridors, while Gabor and company get as much snoggling time as they can with their new boyfriends.
It’s all very much of its time; some of the men’s lines make you want to throw a rock at the screen, but the high camp feel of it makes up for a lot. It’s also a great looking film. The set design is gloriously artificial and, as impractical as they are, the ladies’ costumes are beautiful as well. There are even some innovations that predict the future, like a flat screen TV with a remote that the queen uses to make video calls.
The disc includes commentary by the Queen of Outer Space herself, Laurie Mitchell. She has a pleasant chat with film historian Tom Weaver. While she doesn’t have any dirt to dish about life on the set, her memories are interesting to hear.
Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.
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