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?

Top 5 New York, New York Movies

This week I've been busily showing my visiting sister and niece the Big Apple. Sure they get to see tourist sites like Times Square, One World Trade, Central Park, and Rockefeller Center- but they also get to experience those little spots that make New York unique- like Penelope, Marie's Crisis, and even a drag restaurant where Joan Rivers is still alive.

I'm in a New York state of mind, and I can't help but remember all those movies that have used New York City locations so effectively- essentially making me fall in love with a real city by watching celluloid fantasies. And coincidentally, the new Ghostbusters movie comes out today with lots of shots of Manhattan. Don't believe the haters. It's fun. Trust me.

So here they are- my Top 5 New York, New York movies!:

Sweet Charity (1969)

Charity (the one and only Shirley MacLaine) is a dancehall gal whose romantic life is as confused as she is. If she isn't getting thrown off a bridge in Central Park, she's being abandoned in a movie star's bedroom (with a bedspread made of three kinds of fur!), or dumped by her fiance (the recently RIP John McMartin) because her job is a little too risque for his taste. But through it all Charity's pluck endures and insures there is always another musical number right around the corner.

The plot is based on the Fellini classic Nights of Cabiria (1957) and tends to wander around town. But MacLaine's goofy screen persona and the fantastic songs like the opening number, "My Personal Property" really make Sweet Charity a pleasant trip. The biggest hit from the show, "Hey Big Spender" is a cabaret bar mainstay- and the West Side Story-esque visuals of "There's Gotta Be Something Better Than This" make you want to leap around on your rooftop like MacLaine, Chita Rivera, and Paula Kelly.

MacLaine croons the sweet "It's a Nice Face" to a passed out stranger in an elevator and "Rich Man's Frug" gives the mini-dress and the pony-step a real meltdown at The "God I wish this place actually existed" Pompeii Club. Charity isn't very deep- it's just plain old fun.

Much of director Bob Fosse's creative use of song and site benefits from being shot on location in New York City with Central Park, the Top of the Rock, Yankees Stadium, and Wall Street setting the stage for Charity's romance and dance numbers. It might be said that Charity's real love affair is with New York. Look for a brief cameo by future Harold and Maude (1971) star Bud Cort at the end.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

A sweetly titled movie that is not so sweet, Sweet Smell is the acid-toned story of young press agent, Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis), who is willing to do anything to get in good with Walter Winchell-esque Broadway columnist J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster- who co-produced as well as starred). But as always happens to these ambitious young thangs, Sidney gets much more than he bargained for when he waltzes with the devil.

The film is legendary for its dialogue- a verbal dance with tongues made of barbed wire. Ernest Lehman who wrote the short-story the piece is based on worked up the film script initially, but became deathly ill so famed playwright Clifford Odets finished the job. Lehman would later admit that the working environment with Lancaster & Co. was toxic, and nearly killed him. But with lines like, "The cat's in the bag, and the bag's in the river," it would seem the script's birth by fire was worth it. The Vanity Fair expose on the making of the film is well worth a read.

Lancaster and Curtis are terrific with both screen idols dropping their "good guy" images to play two of the slimiest characters ever teamed-up on the screen. The darkness of these two characters is mirrored by James Wong Howe's stunning chiaroscuro lighting scheme that makes the inside of popular bars and nightclubs look like depraved opium dens- all to the strains of a jazzy Elmer Bernstein score.

1950's Times Square is on full display here with the legendary intersection and real life locations like the Brill Building, 21 Club, and Toots Shor Restaurant providing the frenetic energy that drives the film (even though the interior of 21 was recreated on a Hollywood set). The director found it hard to get some of those shots as the screaming Tony Curtis fans frequently broke through barricades to get a piece of their matinee idol. Don't bite too hard girls. He tastes like "a cookie full of arsenic."

The King of Comedy (1982)

Director Martin Scorsese is a New Yorker born and bred- so it's easy to see why The City That Never Sleeps is a main character in many of his early films. While Taxi Driver (1976) is legendary for its NYC locations, I'm also fond of Scorsese's use of the city in his stab at the entertainment biz, The King of Comedy.

Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro before he stopped trying) is an aspiring comic. He's done the work. He's crafted his jokes. He's followed the careers of successful comics. Heck, he's even created a talkshow set in his apartment complete with cardboard cutouts for guests and a wallpaper audience. What more does he need to do to get a gig? In Rupert's mind, kidnap the most successful talkshow host in America (Jerry Lewis playing himself?) and make him put Rupert on his show.

King of Comedy is so great because while it winkingly highlights the impossibility of making it in the entertainment industry, it also shines a blacklight on the obsessed uber-fans that provide the fuel for our stars. Pupkin isn't just crazy for stalking Jerry Langford, he's crazy for wanting to be like him in the first place. De Niro does oddly-intriguing crazy well, and Rupert, while clearly insane, feels as sad as he does threatening.

The same cannot be said of his friend Masha. In the hands of Sandra Bernhard, this obsessed fan is every star's worst nightmare- a sex-crazed lunatic who has no regard for personal space or volume. Lewis as Langford plays the role of a lifetime as the world-weary, nasty comic- sick of fame, sick of fans, and sick of himself.

'80's Midtown Manhattan is on full display here with lots of West Side and Times Square grittiness to take the shine off the television talkshow. My favorite location is the former Paramount Building at 1633 Broadway- where I have worked for the last 16 years.

Manhattan (1979)

Woody Allen is the quintessential New York filmmaker. No other director (except for perhaps Scorsese) has had a bigger role in depicting New York City on the big screen. So it should come as no surprise that Allen's movie Manhattan is a visual loveletter to his favorite town.

The film opens with a black and white montage of New York underscored by Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue": The Manhattan skyline, Staten Island Ferry, 5th Avenue, Washington Square Park, Fulton Fish Market, Guggenheim Museum, Central Park. Allen narrates, "New York is my town- and it always will be." He has a confidence about this place- a confidence in its joys, letdowns, hypocrisies, and human truths.

Allen plays Isaac Mortimer Davis, a twice-divorced, 42-year-old TV comedy writer who is hopelessly entangled with a 17 year-old girl (Mariel Hemingway). It's creepy even without the events that would unfold later in Allen's personal life.

But Isaac also finds himself attracted to the woman that his best friend is having an affair with- the much more grown-up Mary (Allen's then muse, Diane Keaton). The two talk as the sun comes up over the Queensborough bridge- and one of the most iconic shots of New York City is born. The romantic entanglements ensue with the sort of hopeless optimism that has become Allen's trademark.

Allen skillfully uses New York City as a sort of picture frame for the film's various scenes. Whether it's the aforementioned dawn-breaking conversation in Sutton Place, or Allen and Keaton getting to know each other in the shadows of the Hayden Planetarium, or the final scene where Allen confronts his young paramour in the lobby of a New York apartment building, the city is more than a setting. It accents and reflects the internal desires of Allen's characters, drawing us into their city and their lives.

Allen has set some of his films in other towns, but there is an ease and a comfort to his New York work that sets it apart. You can tell Woody Allen loves New York- and he passes that love on to the audience.

Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)

I love a good feminist horror film. Some may scold me for using the term 'feminist' in relation to a thriller movie about a fashion photographer and a serial killer- but trust me Laura Mars is all about critiquing the male gaze. Laura (the uber fashionable Faye Dunaway) is a famous photographer along the lines of Helmut Lang who likes to take pictures of models in gruesome murder poses. The girls are scantily clad and are usually being killed. Laura assumes these "visions" are just her creative intuition, but when she begins experiencing spells where she sees through the eyes of an actual serial killer, and that she is the next target, she seeks help from skeptical New York detective John Neville (Tommy Lee Jones).

The conceit of a woman who loses her sight to see what a man sees, then duplicates that vision in her own art is a clever way of addressing the relationship between women, men, and media. So many of us are swept up by the images we see- without thinking that the source of these images (even if they are created by women) is often from a male perspective.

The makeup, the hair, the clothing, the advertising of these products- it's all created to please men. In Laura Mars, director Irvin Kershner hints that this image is destructive, and women can be complicit in how they are viewed by men and themselves. After all, Laura sees herself from her stalker's perspective.

All that deep-dive analysis aside, the film is a really fun thriller with Dunaway throwing herself into the role of terrified victim with wide-eyed relish. The fashion shoots are a scream as is Rene Auberjonois' performance as a flamboyantly gay manager. His Lloyd Bridges impersonation is to die for.

The film was shot in several New York locations including the apocalyptic fashion shoot in Columbus Circle, the warehouse photography studio along the Chelsea waterfront, Dunaway's slit-skirt trot along Canal and Greene Streets, and the model funeral at Westchester's own Ferncliff Cemetery- the final resting place for such luminaries as Joan Crawford, Judy Garland, and Madame Chiang Kai-shek. If you're going to be pursued by a crazy psycopath, there's no place chic-er than New York City.

What movies make you think of the Big Apple?