Seeing Double!

Well, classic film friends, it's time once again for that end of Summer treat of treats- The 3rd Annual Film Forum Summer Double Features Festival! Just like it used to be in olden times, you can pay for one ticket and stay through two movies! Unlike in olden times, the two movies have been specially curated by film wizard, Bruce Goldstein, to highlight/connect an actor, director, genre, or maybe just a title.

Here are my picks for the best of the festival, starting Friday, August 24:

The Last Detail/Five Easy Pieces

Before he became a leering parody of himself, Jack Nicholson was the quintessential '70's actor. He instinctually portrayed the man who vainly struggled to fit into the world, and found rebellion to be the surest escape. In Five Easy Pieces (1970) and The Last Detail (1973), Nicholson does some of his best work. In Five, he's the disaffected pianist who pisses off his family by rejecting his talent and working in an oil field. In Detail, he's a Navy grunt who takes pity on a wayward seamen. Nicholson's ease with masculinity but discomfort with the rules that defined a man made for an explosive combination that would be his stock in trade for his Seventies career earning him three Oscar noms and eventually a win for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975).

But Nicholson's not the only reason to watch these two flicks. Five was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar and his co-star Karen Black is a dim-witted spitfire with a monologue that nabbed her an Oscar nom as well. Not to mention you get to see Sally Struthers engaged in some very un-Little Goyl activities.

Detail was directed by Harold & Maude auteur Hal Ashby and also featured an Oscar-nommed supporting performance from Randy Quaid as the childlike AWOL dufus that Nicholson is tasked with retrieving. Robert Towne was Oscar-nommed for the screenplay and would go on to win the next year for another Nicholson classic, Chinatown (1974).

Badlands/Carrie

Sissy Spacek started her movie career with a bang. As homicidal gal pal, Holly, in Terrence Malick's harrowing murder-opus Badlands (1973), Spacek creates an initial impression of freckles and sweetness.

But through the picture, she helps her murderous boyfriend Kit (an impossibly young Martin Sheen) in a cross-state killing spree, evolving into a complicit and complicated woman. The performances from these two actors are spellbinding- and that's saying something as Malick's camerawork with the endless Texas prairie and radiant sunsets competes for our attention.

Three years later, Spacek would again play an innocent hiding darker, blood-soaked urges in Brian de Palma's horror classic Carrie (1976). So much has been written about this movie that it would be a waste of pixels for me to try and find something original to say.

It is a standout for the genre in this time period, period. I once sat in an audience packed with Carrie fans (and Piper Laurie) who knew what was coming at the end- and we all still screamed our fool heads off.



Taxi Driver/Mean Streets

This double feature doubles-up on several items: Direction by Martin Scorsese, performances by Robert De Niro, and the grubby setting of Seventies New York City.
Taxi Driver (1977) is an unassailable classic with distinctive direction from Scorsese, chilling Oscar-nommed performances from De Niro and Jodie Foster, and a posthumous Oscar nom for film score maestro Bernard Herrmann. It's a sick, dark chocolate of a movie- but wow, it holds up.

Before Taxi Driver though, Scorsese, De Niro, and New York cut their teeth on Mean Streets (1973). While his later work gets the majority of the attention, Mean Streets is a fascinating watch to see how the elements of Scorsese's direction that would become his signature style were all there from the beginning.

Morally ambiguous (or downright moral-less) protagonists, a loose- improvisational dialogue style, and a visually cynical view of the New York streets are the center of this tale about a hood who dreams of bigger crimes and greater glory. One particular scene employs inventive, swirling camerawork to bring the audience into a sprawling barfight- almost by centrifugal force. Scorsese always had it, and Mean Streets proves that.

Desperately Seeking Susan/After Hours

Who would have thought of doing a Rosanna Arquette/80's New York double feature? Apparently Mr. Goldstein- and it's a fantastic idea! Both released in 1985, these two cultural gems set in New York City offer a more lively and eccentric view of the Big Apple as it crawled its way back from being told to "Drop Dead."

Desperately is best remembered for helping launch the media domination of a girl named Madonna. Having released her Like a Virgin album only six months earlier, Madonna was becoming a pop star- but wasn't content with just ruling the airwaves. She wanted to be a movie star too.

It didn't hurt that her hit song "Get Into the Groove" was on the soundtrack and the accompanying hit video with clips from the movie had young girls (and gays) flocking to the theater to see their newfound idol of music, fashion, and chutzpah. Madonna's made many attempts since Desperately to conquer the big screen, but her most natural, genuine performance happened in this film. Oh yeah. Rosanna Arquette's in it too.

If after seeing Taxi Driver and Mean Streets you think Scorsese would not be a good candidate to direct a comedy, think again! Paul Hackett (Griffin Dunne) plays a square microprocessor who falls down the rabbit hole into the quirky art world of Soho. At a time where there are no smartphones, ATMs, or Venmos Paul goes from whacky misfortune to whacky misfortune all with the hope of making it with the screwy object of his desire, Marcy (Arquette playing screwy well).

With a supporting cast full of notables like Cheech & Chong, Linda Fiorentino, Terri Garr, Catherine O'Hara, John Heard, and a pre-Balki Bronson Pinchot, After Hours proves that Scorsese could find comedy on the grungy streets of New York as much as he found drama.
"Is That All There Is?" indeed.

If you want to go from double-vision to triple-vision, I HIGHLY recommend you check out the documentary Three Identical Strangers (2018). This is one of those times where I can barely tell you anything about this film without spoiling it, so all I'll say is this story of triplets separated at birth is an emotional rollercoaster ride with twists and turns that will leave you with your mouth hanging open. Director Tim Wardle dispenses and reveals facts to us in such a way that the film plays more like an ingenious suspense story than a documentary. I literally gasped and yelled at the screen. Don't miss this one. Also, the triplets have a cameo in Desperately Seeking Susan.

How's that for making connections, Film Forum?

Top 5 Indies

Today a new Blair Witch film opens. I know I never asked for a sequel, but the first The Blair Witch Project was such a huge sensation when it came out in 1999, I guess it was inevitable. Not only was Blair Witch one of the most successful indie films ever made, it popularized the "found footage" film style. Often unknown actors perform into a handheld camera, creating a modern verite feel that brings a sense of reality to everything from horror, to sci-fi, to comedy.

I'm not a fan. These movies usually make me seasick- and the sound design is so "real" I have to pull out my ear horn and listen really hard to figure out what is going on. But my opinion aside, Blair Witch gave a boost to the indie scene that is undeniable.


Indie films have always had an influence on mainstream films, so here are my picks for Top 5 Indie Films:

Night of the Living Dead (1968)

George Romero is the father of the modern zombie movie. No, really. He is.

With his 1968 horror classic Night of the Living Dead, Romero popularized the idea of zombies being dead cadavers that rise from the grave and stalk living humans for their flesh. Before this film, there were zombie movies- as early as White Zombie (1932), but the zombies tended to be the product of Caribbean voodoo. Witch doctors could turn someone into a mindless zombie who would do their master's evil bidding.

There are definitely variations on this theme- for instance aliens raise the dead to try and take over the world (or at least as much of Southern California as Tor Johnson and Maila Nurmi can manage) in Ed Wood's "worst movie ever" classic Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959). But typically the zombies in movies were a product of an evil villain using otherworldly means to produce the terrifying- though slow-moving- undead.

What Romero does in NOLD that is so fascinating is that he turns the cause of zombie-ism from a personal to a social peril. In NOLD the dead rise en masse due to some sort of radioactive contamination. What's worse- is once someone has been bitten, they then become contaminated and transform into one of the flesh-eating creatures.

This contagion spreads quickly and soon your friends and neighbors (and in one horrifying scene your young daughter) are mindlessly turning against you. As the group of survivors that we are following cower in a farmhouse, they listen to the radio news reporting mass murder and cannibalism, the reanimated horde outside the door threatening to break-in and devour them. The only hope is of a military intervention with enough firepower to mow down this constantly advancing inhuman swarm.

It doesn't take a brilliant sociologist to see the fears of the 1960's in this movie. The Cold War; the nuclear bomb; the social upheaval of the Civil Rights Movement, Women's Liberation, and the Sexual Revolution- all of these cultural terrors are rolled-up into the seemingly unstoppable wave of chaos- an image of our culture literally devouring itself.

Of particular interest is Romero's choice of leading man Ben- African American actor Duane Jones. In a house full of white people, Ben is the only one who seems to know what to do and to have the courage to do it. It was a bold step forward for Black roles- nihilistic ending notwithstanding.

NOLD would go on to make beaucoup box office- unheard of at the time for a movie made outside of the studios and would spawn a host of movies and now television shows. So you can thank or blame George Romero for that.






Pink Flamingos (1972)

Everyone's favorite Pope of Trash John Waters was only 26 when he made the movie that would bring him to national attention. Before Pink Flamingos, Waters made wild shorts and one full length feature with his crew of Baltimore actors, drag queens, and garden variety wack-a-doos. His work was popular on college campuses and at underground screenings, but nothing could prepare the world for the popularity of the pure filth that was Pink Flamingos.

Babs Johnson (Divine being divine) is proud to be the filthiest woman alive, so when fashionable couple Connie and Raymond Marble (David Lochary and Mink Stole) challenge her by sending her a turd in a box- it's game on. The laundry list of mind-boggling images is without peer in film history:

Babs' son Crackers (Danny Mills) having sex with a woman and a chicken, Raymond flashing innocent victims in the park with a sausage tied to his sausage, a literal lipsynching asshole, Babs licking the Marbles' living room furniture so it will physically reject them all while making it with her son, and of course there is the famous dog-shit eating scene that ends the picture.

Waters loves to poke fun at the rules of our world. This movie is just one long game of cultural chicken. Waters wants to see how far he can push our limits before we- what? Get up and leave? Throw our popcorn at the screen? Ban his film? Or tell our friends all about the disgusting movie we just saw so they will go see it? Plenty of people were turned-off, but the film developed a cult following that has only grown over the years.

Waters is unique in that his culture-poking is all in good fun- clothed in cheap suburban glamour and kitsch. He doesn't seek to change cinema- he just wants to be allowed to operate on the outskirts of the Hollywood system where he can film an old lady sitting in a playpen eating eggs and not have to worry about it winding up on the cutting room floor. As his later work gained more mainstream acceptance, his sharp wit seemed to lose some of its edge- probably a victim of the very system he had sought to avoid. But we will always have Pink Flamingos to remind us what can happen when a director gets to play by his own rule-less rules.

Mean Streets (1973)

Today Martin Scorsese is one of the lords of film directing, able to make big budget bio-pics starring Leonardo DiCaprio in between shining his Oscar (only one???) and re-watching The Red Shoes (1948). But in 1972 he was just another NYU graduate with a film camera and a Mean dream.

Scorsese's breakout film was based in part on childhood stories he'd heard and seen on the streets of Little Italy in New York City. Mean Streets stars then newcomers Robert De Niro and Harvey Keitel as a pair of American-Italian boys who are looking to get ahead any way they can. Charlie's (Keitel) goal to get in with the mafia is hindered by his unhinged friend Johnny (De Niro) whose big mouth and big gambling debts are a constant source of trouble. The film becomes a crisis of faith between an inborn Italian Catholicism and friendship, and the allure of the American dream achieved at any cost. It is a theme Scorsese has returned to many times.

The look of Mean Streets is no frills- much like the dimly-lit world it depicts. Scorsese mainly shoots with a handheld camera that brings the audience right into the film's action.

The poolhall fight scene is stunning- the camera swirling around the room as people punch and fight- dizzying us as the punches dizzy the fighters while the Marvelettes croon "Please Mr. Postman." It's an extraordinary melding of filming technique and story- a case study that modern handheld directors should watch more closely. The characters spew profanity amidst their natural-sounding dialogue immersing us further in what feels like a real place full of real people.

While many people love Scorsese's Goodfellas (1990), I feel Mean Streets' smaller production values lend themselves better to the grubby world of mafia wannabes. These are little men striving for a greatness that only exists through the pain and victimization of others. Triumph is always achieved on the backs of others and never lasts. Today's mafia king is tomorrow's crime scene.

Ultimately released by Warner Brothers, Mean Streets would be one of the last "little" movies Scorsese would make.

Blood Simple (1984)

Joel and Ethan Coen were really excited to write and direct their first movie, Blood Simple. But how could they raise the money necessary to make it happen? They came up with the idea of shooting a short two-minute trailer-like version starring themselves that they could take from living room to living room convincing potential donors to back the finished film- raising money like a couple of directorial Girl Scouts. Luckily for us- their plan worked!

Blood Simple is the Texas take on the modern noir. Mr. Marty (the perfectly grumpy Dan Hedaya) suspects his wife Abby (Frances McDormand in the first of many Coen Brothers roles) of having an affair with one of his bartenders, Ray (John Getz) and hires a private detective (M. Emmett Walsh) to get the goods on them. This starts in motion a succession of fuck-ups, double-crosses, and murders that result in a bodycount and a particularly gruesome incident involving a knife and a window sill.

The Coen's cinematic style is on full display here with the lighting strategy of shadows and neon applied to the backrooms of cheap Texas bars and seedy motels instead of the streets and alleys of urban America. The characters in a Coen noir usually aren't very competent and frequently make situations worse than we could have ever imagined- showing us that crime doesn't pay- not necessarily because justice intervenes- but because it's almost impossible to do correctly.

While not as laugh-out-loud funny as their next film Raising Arizona (1987), Blood Simple contains the dark comic elements that the Coen Boys have become famous for and is a blueprint of sorts for what they would achieve later with their Oscar-winning hit Fargo (1996).

Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995)

There is one scene in Todd Solondz's Sundance Award-winning dark comedy Welcome to the Dollhouse that has always stuck with me. Dorky outcast Dawn "Weiner Dog" Weiner (the perfectly cast Heather Matarazzo) walks into her seventh grade lunchroom with her lunchtray and looks around for somewhere to sit. She is rejected at every turn, ultimately having to sit alone before being accosted by a group of cheerleaders questioning whether she's a lesbian.

My seventh grade Harrison Junior High PTSD kicks in every time I see Dawn and I viscerally understand what this poor girl is going through.

It's not just teen a-holes that make Dawn's life a living hell. Her parents don't get her and don't understand why she can't be as adorable as her younger sister Missy- who takes every possible opportunity to torture Dawn while whirling around in a tutu. Dawn's "boyfriend" starts their relationship by threatening to rape her- and afterwards only meets with her in secret. She is so desperate for any kind of attention, she complies.

But her heart belongs to dream-y older rock band boy Steve Rodgers (Eric Mabius) who is so far out of her league that not even a prayer shrine devoted to him can change the outcome of this doomed crush.

Dollhouse is full of moments where the despair and the over-imaginative hopes of a teen who doesn't belong come all-too-accurately to life. But unlike some of the films of the teen fish-out-of-water genre, Solondz doesn't go for the "it gets better" ending. There is no "nerd-y but lovable girl gets the cool guy who is more than his looks" moment for Dawn.

She is trapped in a suburban life that she will never really be part of. Her only hope is of someday escaping to another town- but if my reaction to this film is any indication, you never really escape.



So those are my favorite Indie films. What are yours?