NYC Movie Weekend!

One of the things I love most about living in New York City is the number of theaters that show classic films around the city. Now don't get me wrong- there are fewer options than when I first got here over twenty years ago. But there are still several theaters left that give you the opportunity to see classic films on big screens.

Here are some fun goings-on that are happening this weekend:

Coen Brothers Film Festival at Film Forum

If one was going to make a list of modern auteurs, Joel and Ethan Coen would rank high with their distinctive blend of dark comedy and human tragedy. Starting in 1984 with the grisly Blood Simple, Joel and Ethan have worked together to find the humor in murder, kidnapping, and bowling. Film Forum is hosting fifteen of their best from Friday 1/29 through Thursday, 2/4, ending with their newest star-studded film, old Hollywood homage Hail, Caesar! I can't wait to find out who has kidnapped Baird Whitlock!

My favorites?

Blood Simple (1984)
Raising Arizona (1987)
O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
No Country for Old Men (2007)
And of course their most recognized film, Fargo (1996), but that stopped showing on Thursday, so you'll have to rent that one if you don't already own it. Everyone owns a copy of Fargo, right?

The Landmark Loew's Jersey brings you the news

The Landmark Loew's Theater in Jersey City is an old movie palace that has seen better days, but valiant volunteers have been working hard to step-by-step restore this gem to its former glory. It has a long way to go- but the old movie organ works and the screen is huge. So it's always a good time to get on the PATH train and see an old movie.

This and the following weekend are dedicated to movies about mass media and they are kicking off the festival with an Elia Kazan classic, A Face in the Crowd (1957). This film will wow you. It charts the career of "Lonesome" Rhodes (a surprising Andy Griffith), a former jailbird who sings his way into a radio and then TV empire. There's no Mayberry sheriff here as a beloved folk hero turns into a megalomaniac bent on becoming a political kingmaker. I'd say this film was prophetic if it weren't for the fact it was based partially on entertainer Arthur Godfrey. But all one needs to do is look at the television clown running for president now to understand that this movie is barely fictional. Amazing cast includes the always stellar Patricia Neal, Walter Matthau, and introduces Lee Remick with a baton.
If this weekend doesn't work for you- try next weekend when The Landmark is showing the equally amazing Ace in the Hole (1951) and Network (1976).
Seriously, these three movies are all must-sees.


Catch the vibes of Dr. Phibes!

If classic, camp horror films are more your speed, go to the tres alternative movie house, Anthology Film Archives where The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) will scare the laughs right out of you. Care of schlock movie house American International, this gem stars the Crown Prince of Horror, Vincent Price as the titular doctor who is seeking revenge on the nine doctors who were responsible for the death of his beloved wife. To make sure he wasn't just Vincent Price being creepy, the plot adds the twist that he can't speak and his voice has to come from a weird victrola-thing that he attaches to his neck. Not weird enough? How about if he wears a mask that looks like the heavily powdered face of Price, but in reality, he's horribly burned underneath? Still not enough? What if instead of just tracking down and killing these dudes, he kills each of them according to one of the biblical plagues? What if he has a hot assistant named Vulnavia? Not even the venerable Joseph Cotton can bring any seriousness to the proceedings- but that's okay. This movie is a hoot- and if you don't believe me- check out the trailer.

Well that's what's going on in movie theaters in NYC this weekend. Go see a classic movie! Or stay at home with a plastic organ and your burned face.

The History of Hollywood Fan Mags

This may surprise my readers, but I'm not the hugest fan of fan culture. Don't get me wrong, once they're dead I love to dig into the life history of a legitimate Hollywood personage. But until then, I'm not terribly interested in who they're dating, what restaurants they eat at, or what their man cave looks like. That being said, the history of the fan magazine is intimately linked to Hollywood history and many of the decisions made at these publications had huge impacts on how movies were marketed and made, and the careers of film actors and actresses great and small.

The Guardian's Pamela Hutchinson has written a great story about the birth of Photoplay Magazine- a veritable who's who and what who did in Hollywood from 1910 right up until the 1980's. There are some interesting tidbits about silent film greats Florence Lawrence, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks, Theda Bara, Gloria Swanson, and Fatty Arbuckle to name a few. At the end of the article is a link to the Media History Digital Library. Several lifetimes would be insufficient to leaf through all the film reviews, star "confessions", and unbelievable advertisements that are contained here. But since I have to do important things like write this blog, I'll settle for just looking at the magazines with Joan in them.

Happy Birthday, Cool Hand!

Paul Newman. The man has so much universal appeal that just saying his name seems enough to describe him. Everyone knows how beautiful he was- those crystal blue eyes, that smirk, that figure. His screen acting was second only to Brando's at the time with nine Academy Award nominations for acting including a win for The Color of Money (1986). His Newman's Own product line was more than a vanity salad dressing project. It funded many charities including his Hole in the Wall Gang Camp that gives hope and joy to seriously ill children and their families. His political activism was something he was proud of- bringing his star power to address racial and gay issues. And his loyalty to friends was absolute.

When William F. Buckley Jr. called Gore Vidal a queer on live television, Newman was waiting for him back in his dressing room and apparently ripped Buckley a new one. Of course Vidal had called Buckley a pro-crypto Nazi but that's a discussion for another post. Paul Newman was a Hollywood star who seemed so casual about himself, that we felt he was one of us- even if there was no way we could be anything close to Paul Newman. 

On what would have been his 91st birthday, here are some of my favorite Newman classics.

Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)- Great early role with Newman playing real-life pugilist Rocky Graziano. Newman looks great in a pair of boxing trunks- but more importantly is able to convey the rage and despair of a trapped man.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)- There may never be a more ravishing pair of leads than Newman and Elizabeth Taylor. They are so sexy it seems impossible that they don't rip each other's clothes off and make a Little Dandy right there in that brass bed. But that's part of the genius of the casting- if these two aren't screwing there is something wrong- and that tension drives this Tennessee Williams classic.

The Hustler (1961)- Newman is effortlessly cool as a pool player who has the balls to take on the unbeatable champ, Minnesota Fats (a rare dramatic turn from Jackie Gleason). A pre-Carrie Piper Laurie is sensational as a drunken, gimpy girlfriend.

Sweet Bird of Youth (1962)- This movie is sort of a reunion for the Cat on a Hot Tin Roof creatives with Richard Brooks directing a script based on a Tennessee Williams play. Geraldine Page as washed-up actress Alexandra del Lago steals the film, but part of Newman's grace as an actor was his ability to allow his co-stars to shine.

Hud (1963)- Newman is perfect as Hud, a shiftless cowboy who has not figured out what to do with himself in his small Texas hometown. The fact that you don't hate him by the end of the movie is a testament to his likability. James Wong Howe's Oscar-wining black and white cinematography is breathtaking and co-stars Patricia Neal and Melvyn Douglas took home statues as well for their tremendous performances. Younger brother Lonnie's (Brandon De Wilde) idolatry of Hud adds a gay subtext- something Brick and Skipper might have appreciated.

Cool Hand Luke (1967)- Newman again plays a charismatic scamp who takes unfair, abusive imprisonment in stride, becoming a legend in the process. There's no failure to communicate here. Newman is the king.

The Sting (1973)- In the second (and final) pairing of Newman and Redford, the hot-shot chemistry between these two Hollywood stars sparks off the screen. Either one of these actors could have hogged this movie- but their sense of play and sly one-upmanship instead creates the perfect caper team. Robert Shaw and Eileen Brennan add to the Depression Era antics under the slick direction of George Roy Hill.

The Towering Inferno (1974)- Newman is only one of the many stars that populate the sky of this Irwin Allen disaster classic. Not quite as fulfilling as The Poseidon Adventure (1972), Towering Inferno still explodes with its share of corny dialogue and "which star will burn next?" plot twists. But seriously, I'd be happy to burst into flames if I could be tied to a pillar in a room with Newman, Steve McQueen, and William Holden.

The Verdict (1982)- Newman is washed-up, sodden lawyer Frank Galvin who gets a chance to redeem himself with a case that sheds light on a questionable death at a Catholic hospital. Newman knocks it out of the park and if it weren't for the super stiff competition that year (including winner Ben Kingsley for Ghandi, Jack Lemmon for Missing, Dustin Hoffman for Tootsie, and Peter O'Toole for Man of the Year) Newman would have taken home his first Oscar. Currently in Oscar hot water, Charlotte Rampling is great as a shady sedcutress.

Road to Perdition (2002)- In a career where Newman mainly played lovable scamps, his role as Irish mobster John Rooney strains our ability to like this dark, vindictive character. But no one in this stylized Sam Mendes action/drama comes out clean- not even leading man Tom Hanks. Newman earned his final Oscar nomination as Best Supporting Actor.

What's your favorite Paul Newman Movie?

Winter Storm Jonas Film Festival

Ah... A good old fashioned blizzard! If Facebook is any indication, many NY'ers went out to see what happens to the view when two feet of snow is dumped on it. But for me, there's no better time to hunker down with some of your favorite comfort foods, a blanket, and a glass of something boozey to watch movies. Also, you don't have to put on your pants for a couple days.

My Winter Storm Jonas Film Festival started Friday night with Tootsie (1982). This film is one of those eternal pleasures. No matter how many times you watch Dustin Hoffman's Dorothy Michaels character chastise, chest clutch, or stammer, it's always a warm, funny time.

Hoffman wanted to elevate this character beyond the obvious joke of an actor who dresses like a woman to get a part. Much like Jack Lemon in another cross-dressing classic Some Like it Hot (1959), Hoffman eschews camp for an acceptance of the behavioral and physical differences between the two sexes, inhabiting a female character instead of parodying it. Dorothy is so enjoyable I find myself disappointed when Hoffman reveals himself on live television.

Like Julie (the captivating Jessica Lange), "I miss Dorothy." Terri Garr, Charles Durning, Dabney Coleman, Sydney Pollack, Doris Belack, George Gaynes, Geena Davis, and a pre-world-weary Bill Murray are all so wonderful you are willing to forgive the sometimes cringe-y Stephen Bishop soundtrack. This time around while watching an interview with Dustin Hoffman on the Blu-ray edition, I learned that Sydney Pollack was not the original director. He inherited the project after Hal Ashby left. My imagination is piqued by what the quirky director of Harold and Maude (1971) would have done with Tootsie.

Next up was British drama/romance The Crying Game (1992). This is one of those movies that infected the cultural zeitgeist in large part because of its big reveal. But I've never gotten around to seeing it. I mean, I know that the girl is actually a guy- so surprise over. Nothing to see here- except Jaye Davidson's weiner. Well, not exactly. Neil Jordan's political drama turned romance turned gay/trans drama seems to be hiding as much as Davidson's Dil. Motives and desires are shrouded among the many layers of translucent scarves that surround Dil's apartment. Stripped down, the movie parallels the fight over national identity with that of sexual identity. Stephen Rea has reason to question his Irish patriotism and his attraction to Dil.

The problem is that by the end of the film, I'm not sure he finds an answer to either of these conflicts. But then again, in 1992 there was no Good Friday Agreement of 1998 to ease tensions in Northern Ireland and no Caitlyn Jenner to publicly address trans issues. So perhaps within its ambiguous decisions, The Crying Game, is a perfect reflection of its time. It also unconsciously continued my men dressed as women film festival. So I had to move on to a different vision of womanhood.

Switchblade Sisters (1975) is sheer, Seventies sexploitation crap. But that's what makes it fun. No need to fuss over the plot or negative images of women. Switchblade Sisters shows what happens in a girl gang when a new girl shows up to challenge the leader. Of course it leads to prison catfights where robes open up exposing breasts, para-military black Maoists shooting-up a food truck, and two chicks having a winner-takes-all hair-pulling/knife fight for control of the gang, The Jezebels.

Everyone in this movie looks like somebody else- like the casting agent hoped the audience would think there were stars in this picture. Monica Gayle looks like Sissy Spacek with an eyepatch, Asher Brauner looks like Josh Brolin, and Don Stark looks like a younger version of Mr. Pinciotti from That 70's Show- wait- Don Stark is the younger version of the guy who plays Mr. Pinciotti from That 70's Show. 

Stark's character Hook is on the receiving line of one of the few bon mots of the film, "Everybody knows your crank could hook a tuna." There are movies that are so bad they're good. This one is so bad it's worth a couple laughs... if you've been drinking.

I finished my snowy movie weekend by throwing on some boots and tromping out to an actual movie theater to see Oscar-nommed, Carol (2015). I love director Todd Haynes. He makes movies that need to be seen on the big screen with an aestheticism that rivals classic directors like Douglas Sirk and Vincente Minnelli. And in this sense, Carol is a triumph. Set during the Christmas holiday of 1951, Carol tells the classic "love at first sight" story, but with two women. Therese (Rooney Mara) is a shopgirl in the toy section of a department store. Carol (Cate Blanchett) is a married well-to-do gal looking for a doll for her daughter.

Looks exchanged over a toy train propel the story over a fraught relationship. One of the great challenges of film is its ability to project the ecstatic feelings of first love and thwarted desire through visuals. Most films have lots of witty dialogue, grasps and clutches, and protestations of eternal longing. Haynes takes a different, largely visual approach. In a time when the open expression of a same-sex attraction was verboten, it is the little things that signaled affection. A longing glance, a lingering touch, the view of your loved one sleeping, fragmented images of a hand or face. The love between Carol and Therese is subtle and lovely. The attention to period-specifics is obsessively beautiful.

Unlike Haynes' Far From Heaven (2002) the colors seem muted, trying to keep the love blossoming in front of us from drawing too much attention. Carol isn't terribly complicated plot-wise- and lacking the obvious dramatics is more of a tone-poem than Far From Heaven, but it is a graceful addition to the Haynes canon. And it concludes my estrogen-infused movie-viewing marathon.  Maybe the next time it snows I'll get sucked into a John Wayne movie-hole.

What did you watch during Winter Storm Jonas?

Goodbye Ziggy

I've lived in New York City for going on 25 years. I've seen lots of changes. I've seen the great 90's dance clubs turned into shopping malls. I've seen Chelsea turned into a daycare center. I've seen Times Square turned into- well, another daycare center. But with all the losses of favorite restaurants, bars, and assorted other institutions, nothing makes me sadder than learning that the grand old dame of one-screen theaters, The Ziegfeld, is closing. Over the last couple of years the rumors have run thick that the historical movie theater was hemorrhaging money- and any time I went to see a movie with an audience that was smaller than some of my birthday parties, I always figured this grand movie house's time was limited.

But to actually hear that this great cinema relic is closing is disheartening. Nowhere else in this city does a space invoke the reverence for movies that the Ziegfeld does. With it's 1100 red velvet seats, wide screen, and old-school lobby, the Ziegfeld conjured the feeling of a movie palace that pre-dated its 1969 opening. You almost expected to see a red-capped usher with a flashlight help you to your seat. When a film opened at the Ziegfeld- it was an event! Lines wrapped around the block- but the place never felt crowded. Movies felt like movies at the Ziegfeld- even when they were not necessarily the best movies.

So in honor of the passing of this great institution, here are some of the movies I remember seeing at The Ziegfeld.

In no particular order:

Jurassic Park (1993)
I went alone close to opening day after my shift as a soda jerk  finished at the diner cum Chess King fashion store known as Boogie's Diner. I arrived late and found the only available seat at the end of the very first row. Grumpy at the neck-straining view, I sat down anyway and found myself transported to a world where dinosaurs had been resurrected, and a movie franchise was born.

Death Becomes Her (1992)
I saw this under-appreciated comedy with one of my roommates. This satire on youth and beauty in Hollywood is still one of my favorites. How can you not love a movie that contains a failed musical based on Sweet Bird of Youth that features Meryl Streep cavorting around the stage singing the song "That's Not Me" into a mirror? Director Robert Zemeckis seems to have peaked with his 1994 Oscar-winner Forrest Gump, but the fun of movies like Death and Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) give me hope that we may yet see another great Zemeckis flick. Why isn't Death Becomes Her out in a widescreen format??!!

Independence Day (1996)
This movie is pure popcorn dreck. But there's nothing quite like introducing your younger brother to The Ziegfeld on his first visit to the big city. The giant, alien ships darkening the sky and the White House blowing up seemed scarier there than in any other theater in New York City. Now there's a sequel with even bigger ships- but no Will Smith.

Chicago (2002)
I loved the stage revival and went to this one drunk. I did the unthinkable and hung my feet over the empty seatback in front of me and did all the Fosse moves I could. I'm surprised I wasn't thrown out.

The re-release of the Star Wars trilogy
The line for A New Hope (1977) wrapped around the block. The lines for Empire Strikes Back (1980) went down the street. We just walked into Return of the Jedi (1983). I guess the Ewoks weren't crowdpleasers- but seeing these films at the Ziegfeld reignited all those happy childhood moments. I probably saw all the prequels at The Ziegfeld- but I don't remember... as I shouldn't. I closed the circle by seeing The Force Awakens a couple weeks ago at the Ziegfeld with a Perrier in hand.

Doctor Zhivago (1965)
I saw this David Lean epic with a guy I was dating, hoping that the romantic film would spark love between the two of us just like it did Yuri and Laura. It didn't. I spent most of the time trying to wriggle away from my date's hand.

Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
If you ever get the chance to see Lawrence of Arabia on a huge, wide screen- do it. It's how this stunning historical epic was meant to be seen. Peter O'Toole's eyes blaze like blue fire and Alec Guinness and Anthony Quinn's false noses jut off the screen. With set design by the gods of the desert, we found ourselves emptying our water bottles before intermission.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
This film is so much fun. There was a time when Steven Spielberg and George Lucas working on an Indiana Jones movie together meant a guaranteed good time.  After Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008), nothing is certain. Zieg Heil monkey indeed!

The Godfather (1972)
I actually waited to see this movie at The Ziegfeld. It's operatic scope could only be revealed on a screen the size of the Ziegfeld's, I thought. I was right. Having my Godfather cherry popped at the Ziegfeld is one of my proudest cinematic moments. Now where will I watch The Godfather: Part II (1974)?

Chinatown (1974)
Roman Polanski's twisted noir about murder and water rights is a classic. Favorite moment- when Noah Cross (John Huston) asks J.J. Gittes (Jack Nicholson) if he's, "Fucking his daughter?" He was- on screen and in real life. Nicholson was seeing (and by default, fucking) Huston's daughter Anjelica.

Blade Runner (1982)
I don't remember which director's cut I saw at The Ziegfeld, and I don't care. This sci-fi noir is a seminal film and in my opinion, I don't think Ridley Scott has made a film as exciting and visually innovative since. It also means the actor I've seen most at the Ziegfeld is without a doubt, Harrison Ford.

So dear, Ziegfeld, even though you're going to be turned into a corporate event space where the elite will get drunk on Piper Heidsieck, shove canapes into their maws, and thrash about badly on a dance floor, for me, you will always be a place where movies are respected and loved.

Go in peace.

What films do you remember seeing at The Ziegfeld?

An offer I couldn't refuse...

Someone was giving away the Godfather trilogy in our break room.

If that snowstorm hits this weekend I'll be well-stocked movie-wise. Now about bread and milk...

A Woman Under the Influence

Last year actress Gena Rowlands was awarded an honorary Oscar (rocking the double sunglasses look) and I was placed in the embarrassing position of not knowing very much about her career. I mean, I'd seen her performance in A Child is Waiting (1963) but in all fairness, I paid more attention to Judy Garland, Burt Lancaster, and the cast of  developmentally challenged children. I thought she was brilliant as the icy academic, Marion, in Woody Allen's 1988 drama, Another Woman. But I knew I was missing the one film that everyone said was must-see-viewing for Rowlands' acting bravura. So I remedied my film ignorance and added A Woman Under the Influence (1974) to my Netflix queue. It's nice when I make such good film decisions.

Rowlands is Mabel Longhetti, a wife and mother of three who in the opening scene appears to be a little- well, harried. Scrambling to get her children into the car with her mother and unable to keep her sandals on, she dithers and worries until her mother drives off, leaving her to a date night with her husband, Nick (the beloved, cock-eyed Peter Falk.) Only Nick has to work late and we begin to see that keeping her sandals on is the least of Mabel's issues. Her grasp of reality is as tenuous as her footwear, and soon she is tottering on the edge of proper behavior- ultimately falling into a bar and a man. 

What Rowlands does so perfectly in this film (and Rowlands' husband John Cassavetes with his script) is create the greyness of insanity.

It's hard to confirm that Rowlands is shitbird crazy. She's an over-worked mother, she's verbally and physically abused by her husband, she is reaching out like a child for love. What's so crazy about that? Her episodes multiply until a ten-minute scene where the wheels come flying off her shaky wagon. It is the most affecting view of a mental breakdown I've ever witnessed on screen. It is terrifying and painful to watch as Rowlands falls apart in front of us- unable to hold it together for one more moment.

Woman is a character piece- the kind that flourished in the late Sixties and Seventies. Cassavetes was a master of the American New Wave and this film reaches out and grabs us because of its intense and personal emotionality rather than plot twists and definitive Hollywood endings. The shots are frequently blocked by set pieces or characters and often the action and the speakers aren't even in frame. The setting is the working class- a poor family where the three kids share one bedroom and the parents sleep on a pull-out couch in the dining room. The actors seem to be improvising (Cassavetes and the actors in interviews assure us they were not) giving the feeling that we are sitting at the dinner table with them. It is textbook American verite depicting a woman going crazy.

But Cassavetes insists she is not crazy. For him this film is an indictment of the American society that forces women to be good wives and mothers and follow cultural norms that perhaps they don't naturally cotton to. That kind of pressure from family, neighbors, and your television is enough to make any woman lose it. There is a handmade sign on the bathroom/kitchen door (we assume made by Mabel) that says, "PRIVATE." This film made the private lives- and discontent of women public. And the Women's Movement of the era embraced the film for that reason.

Rowlands was nominated for Best Actress but lost to Ellen Burstyn for Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore- perhaps a more comfortable portrayal of the "new woman." Another loser that year was Faye Dunaway in Chinatown, playing another iconic female nutter. But of these three memorable performances, there is a more complex, emotional truth in Rowlands that in hindsight, makes me feel like she should have gotten the Oscar. Cassavetes was also nommed for best director- but he was up against Francis Ford Coppolla for Godfather II  which hauled off six statuettes. You can't fight the Coreleones, folks.

So Gena, I'm glad you have your honorary Oscar. I think you earned it in 1974.