This was on TV a while back and I caught up with it last weekend. It's a 1940 screwball comedy about newspaper reporters and it's available in the public domain so I can link you to the whole film:
Cary Grant plays a scumbag editor who, as the opening title card says, will do anything short of murder to get the story. He's a real git who's quite happy to threaten women, cheat on politicians, rob and kidnap people all for the story. He's also a real charmer and very funny. Rosalind Russell — equally smart and funny — is the star journalist who's looking to get away from the business and settle down in Albany with sweet dull Ralph Bellamy. She's also his ex-wife ("I intended to be with you on our honeymoon, honest I did," says Grant). But when a story breaks she can't resist Grant pushing her back into the fray and finds that she misses her old life.
The side-story about a death row inmate is actually oddly serious. John Qualen is accused of killing a man and is sentenced to death but there's a question mark over his sanity and, since the victim was black and there are a lot of black voters in the town, there are also question marks over the motives of the politicians trying to see him executed. Then when the confused man's depressed girlfriend jumps out of a window you might think that we were watching a serious piece of drama. I guess there's some comment on the ethics of journalism too, but all that grown-up stuff is pushed swiftly aside by the tidal wave of wisecracks — many ad-libbed — from the two stars and their supporting cast.
The relationship between Grant and Russell is a little strange. He's really a terrible person and you can see why she left him. She's no happier with Bellamy, though, and over the course of the film Grant gradually worms his way back into her heart — mostly by framing Bellamy for various crimes so that he's occupied with the police. It's interesting, though, that she doesn't even consider the third option — as if to realise that both men are wrong for her would mean she dies alone. She does end up with one of them, but it's refreshingly unromantic to think that the relationship is almost certainly over a week or two at most beyond the end credits!
I can't find any hard statistics on the subject, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was the wordiest film ever made. It runs to only 92-minutes, too, so that shows just what a pace they're going at. One source clocks them at 240 words per minute, which is about double normal talking speed. I recently saw The Social Network, the Aaron Sorkin-scripted film about the founding of Facebook. It's also pretty wordy and apparently to get the script to fit a reasonable time rather than cut out sections they instead got the actors to talk faster. Whether that's true or not, it's still slow and contemplative in comparison to His Girl Friday. The dialogue is relentless, with constant jokes and humorous asides. The actors don't even wait until the other person's sentence is finished before starting their own lines. In one remarkable scene Russell, typing a story out on her typewriter, has an argument over her shoulder with Bellamy while Cary Grant barks orders over the phone about the layout of the morning edition, frequently breaking off to make jibes at the hapless fiancé. It's sheer chaos but brilliantly executed and I can only imagine how much rehearsal it needed. Some people might find it a bit too manic but I lapped it up and would recommend the film to anyone.
Saturday 30 October 2010
Saturday 9 October 2010
82. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre
Ok, question number one: why is this film called The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, but the sequels and remake are called The Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Who decided to drop the space, and why?
Anyway, there's probably little need to tell you what goes on in this film. It's famous and even if you haven't seen it (which I hadn't until the end of August) you still know it through the many films it's influenced and Simpsons jokes referencing it. If you've seen any of the modern slasher films, too, the plot will feel familiar — a group of kids on a trip to the country meet some bad folks and some grisly ends — but this was the landmark of the genre and if not the very first was certainly the most important. As such it should be treated as a historical piece as well as an individual work.
It's quite fun to look at the similarities with Star Wars. They're both pioneering films, financially successful, enormously influential and spawned several terrible sequels. Both directors gained great acclaim but never quite reached those heights again and had — creatively at least — quite disappointing careers. And they both had beards. But that's a little unfair on Tobe Hooper and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a much better film than Star Wars. But it's not a great film and to be honest I was a little underwhelmed seeing it for the first time after all the hype and expectation.
The first half hour works well, deftly building up tension in the usual way (see earlier comments on Suspiria). Then they get to the creepy old house, the tension ratchets up a few notches and the chain sawing starts. It's superb stuff — terrifying and visceral and very exciting. And considering it was made in 1974 when the audience's taste for such things wasn't quite as high as it is now makes it all the more impressive. I can quite believe all the stories about people fainting in cinemas and having to be stretchered out.
But then the film takes a bizarre left turn for the final act. We get to share a meal with Leatherface and his family and I'm not ashamed to admit I just didn't get it. It's a very poor attempt at black comedy, almost as if Hooper wanted to do a version of The Munsters but without being funny, and fits very strangely into the film that had gone before. Here's a quote from Wikipedia on the film's sequel, made in 1986:
"The emphasis in this sequel is on black comedy, which director Tobe Hooper believed was present in the first film, but unacknowledged by viewers because of its realistic and shocking content."
I like the way they say that Hooper believed it was present, as if he couldn't be sure. Or maybe he tried to put it in but it turned out so badly he decided that it wasn't there after all. Whatever the story, I'm afraid this spoiled the film for me a little. I'm happy to ignore those scenes and concentrate on the good points, of which there are plenty, but I shouldn't have to do that in a top 250 film.
We actually saw this at Frightfest in London so they had a Q+A with the director himself afterwards. I say Q+A, but it was more like nauseatingly fanboyish leading questions and embarrassingly stilted answers. A good public speaker Tobe Hooper is not and I did feel a bit sorry for the man, forced to answer these inane questions from some guy who had once written a GCSE Film Studies essay about him. One comment that did interest me, though, was when Hooper was attempting to show how different he was trying to be with the film. "No Hollywood film would have the actor jump through two windows," he proudly says. And he's probably right, but not necessarily in a good way. You can watch the interview on Youtube and he also talks a little about the black comedy aspect of the film. Mercifully a lot of the most cringe-worthy questions seem to be cut out.
I don't want to sound too critical about it because we had a good time watching it and I would still recommend it highly to anyone. And it's certainly an "important" film in the history of cinema. It's not a masterpiece, though, but why should it have to be?
Anyway, there's probably little need to tell you what goes on in this film. It's famous and even if you haven't seen it (which I hadn't until the end of August) you still know it through the many films it's influenced and Simpsons jokes referencing it. If you've seen any of the modern slasher films, too, the plot will feel familiar — a group of kids on a trip to the country meet some bad folks and some grisly ends — but this was the landmark of the genre and if not the very first was certainly the most important. As such it should be treated as a historical piece as well as an individual work.
It's quite fun to look at the similarities with Star Wars. They're both pioneering films, financially successful, enormously influential and spawned several terrible sequels. Both directors gained great acclaim but never quite reached those heights again and had — creatively at least — quite disappointing careers. And they both had beards. But that's a little unfair on Tobe Hooper and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a much better film than Star Wars. But it's not a great film and to be honest I was a little underwhelmed seeing it for the first time after all the hype and expectation.
The first half hour works well, deftly building up tension in the usual way (see earlier comments on Suspiria). Then they get to the creepy old house, the tension ratchets up a few notches and the chain sawing starts. It's superb stuff — terrifying and visceral and very exciting. And considering it was made in 1974 when the audience's taste for such things wasn't quite as high as it is now makes it all the more impressive. I can quite believe all the stories about people fainting in cinemas and having to be stretchered out.
But then the film takes a bizarre left turn for the final act. We get to share a meal with Leatherface and his family and I'm not ashamed to admit I just didn't get it. It's a very poor attempt at black comedy, almost as if Hooper wanted to do a version of The Munsters but without being funny, and fits very strangely into the film that had gone before. Here's a quote from Wikipedia on the film's sequel, made in 1986:
"The emphasis in this sequel is on black comedy, which director Tobe Hooper believed was present in the first film, but unacknowledged by viewers because of its realistic and shocking content."
I like the way they say that Hooper believed it was present, as if he couldn't be sure. Or maybe he tried to put it in but it turned out so badly he decided that it wasn't there after all. Whatever the story, I'm afraid this spoiled the film for me a little. I'm happy to ignore those scenes and concentrate on the good points, of which there are plenty, but I shouldn't have to do that in a top 250 film.
We actually saw this at Frightfest in London so they had a Q+A with the director himself afterwards. I say Q+A, but it was more like nauseatingly fanboyish leading questions and embarrassingly stilted answers. A good public speaker Tobe Hooper is not and I did feel a bit sorry for the man, forced to answer these inane questions from some guy who had once written a GCSE Film Studies essay about him. One comment that did interest me, though, was when Hooper was attempting to show how different he was trying to be with the film. "No Hollywood film would have the actor jump through two windows," he proudly says. And he's probably right, but not necessarily in a good way. You can watch the interview on Youtube and he also talks a little about the black comedy aspect of the film. Mercifully a lot of the most cringe-worthy questions seem to be cut out.
I don't want to sound too critical about it because we had a good time watching it and I would still recommend it highly to anyone. And it's certainly an "important" film in the history of cinema. It's not a masterpiece, though, but why should it have to be?
Wednesday 6 October 2010
94. Suspiria
This was on Film4 about a month ago as part of the run-up to FrightFest. It's a 1977 horror film which I'm astonished isn't as well known as other works in the genre, because it's clearly one of the best. How come Hallowe'en is shown once a year at a minimum, but Suspiria gets no more attention than a brief mention in Juno?
The plot isn't particularly revolutionary — a plucky virginal heroine heads off to a spooky dance school in Europe where people start getting bumped off — but the plot isn't so important as the style of the film. It's beautiful to look at with these wonderfully lit primary-coloured rooms. Some of the sets are quite reminiscent of The Conformist — it must be an Italian thing.
The masterstroke of director Dario Argento, though, is in the opening scenes. Most horror films like this open slowly, building up the tension, hinting at things to come and then gradually escalate to a great terrifying crescendo. That's standard fare and a lot of very good films have been made in this model (The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, reviewed next, being a prominent example). One problem with this, though, is that you get used to the film — its style and pacing — and you learn to predict, whether consciously or unconsciously, what is likely to happen. Argento, however, cunningly flips this on its head by putting all the best stuff right up front. As such, the first 20 minutes are unpredictable, disorienting, shocking and very frightening. You have no idea what's going on, no frame of reference for judging how bad it's going to get. Is it a supernatural villain or is it a human killer? Is the girl we're following the heroine of the film (and therefore safe from an early grave) or an expendable supporting character? You don't know.
As the film progresses things settle down to a more standard setup. The deaths happen at the usual intervals and in between the heroine researches the strange goings on, leading her on a path to the finale. That's not to say the deaths are uninteresting — far from it. They're just expected. Actually they're pretty cool and the girls die in lots of bizarre and sometimes extremely gruesome ways. This is not a film for the squeamish and you certainly get your money's worth in blood.
A word should be said about the soundtrack, by the Italian prog-rock group Goblin. It's just superb and plays a vital role in creating the eerie quality of the movie. Just a few notes of the main theme on the piano is enough to freak my little sister out — always a good talent to have up one's sleeve! What's interesting, too, is that it's not just the music on the soundtrack that works so well but the use of silence. A well-timed silence can send a shiver up your spine just as much as a haunting celeste.
I'm not totally convinced that this film will withstand repeat viewings because once it loses its shock and surprise it might not have a whole lot of substance to it. The Exorcist is such a great film because even after seeing it several times it's still totally enthralling. Scream, on the other hand, was enormous fun at the cinema but when I saw it again a few years later I could see the cracks. Where Suspiria comes in this hierarchy remains to be seen, but for any of you out there who haven't seen it yet, I couldn't recommend another horror film more highly.
The plot isn't particularly revolutionary — a plucky virginal heroine heads off to a spooky dance school in Europe where people start getting bumped off — but the plot isn't so important as the style of the film. It's beautiful to look at with these wonderfully lit primary-coloured rooms. Some of the sets are quite reminiscent of The Conformist — it must be an Italian thing.
The masterstroke of director Dario Argento, though, is in the opening scenes. Most horror films like this open slowly, building up the tension, hinting at things to come and then gradually escalate to a great terrifying crescendo. That's standard fare and a lot of very good films have been made in this model (The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, reviewed next, being a prominent example). One problem with this, though, is that you get used to the film — its style and pacing — and you learn to predict, whether consciously or unconsciously, what is likely to happen. Argento, however, cunningly flips this on its head by putting all the best stuff right up front. As such, the first 20 minutes are unpredictable, disorienting, shocking and very frightening. You have no idea what's going on, no frame of reference for judging how bad it's going to get. Is it a supernatural villain or is it a human killer? Is the girl we're following the heroine of the film (and therefore safe from an early grave) or an expendable supporting character? You don't know.
As the film progresses things settle down to a more standard setup. The deaths happen at the usual intervals and in between the heroine researches the strange goings on, leading her on a path to the finale. That's not to say the deaths are uninteresting — far from it. They're just expected. Actually they're pretty cool and the girls die in lots of bizarre and sometimes extremely gruesome ways. This is not a film for the squeamish and you certainly get your money's worth in blood.
A word should be said about the soundtrack, by the Italian prog-rock group Goblin. It's just superb and plays a vital role in creating the eerie quality of the movie. Just a few notes of the main theme on the piano is enough to freak my little sister out — always a good talent to have up one's sleeve! What's interesting, too, is that it's not just the music on the soundtrack that works so well but the use of silence. A well-timed silence can send a shiver up your spine just as much as a haunting celeste.
I'm not totally convinced that this film will withstand repeat viewings because once it loses its shock and surprise it might not have a whole lot of substance to it. The Exorcist is such a great film because even after seeing it several times it's still totally enthralling. Scream, on the other hand, was enormous fun at the cinema but when I saw it again a few years later I could see the cracks. Where Suspiria comes in this hierarchy remains to be seen, but for any of you out there who haven't seen it yet, I couldn't recommend another horror film more highly.
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