I’m a few years behind in seeing Moon, the 2009 indie science-fiction film directed by Duncan Jones (son of David Bowie!), but wow, what a great little movie. Sam Rockwell, perhaps best known for Galaxy Quest and Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, turns in a bravura performance (or is that two performances?) in a virtual one-man show about the lone occupant of a lunar mining base who’s beginning to question his sanity as the end of his three-year tour approaches. It’s essentially a character study wrapped up in a mystery story that brilliantly expands on some of the ideas explored in my beloved Blade Runner — specifically questions of identity and whether we can trust our own memories, and what a person might go through emotionally when those things turn out to be… unreliable. I feared for a time that this was going to turn into one of those “mindf**k” stories that I have so little patience for, but in the end all is explained and logical and satisfactory. It’s a moving, very human story with plausible sci-fi underpinnings. And honestly, I think Moon looks every bit as good as this year’s Prometheus in terms of production design and FX, and it was done on a fraction of the budget using old-school miniatures instead of CGI.

Highly — and I do mean highly — recommended.

I missed James Mangold’s Cop Land when it was first released 15 years ago, but I recall being curious about it, because everyone was talking back then about Sylvester Stallone’s uncharacteristic performance. I finally managed to catch it this morning, and it turned out to be a good movie, if not quite an outstanding one. A story of corrupt New York cops and a small-town New Jersey sheriff who could’ve been one of them but for a chance act of heroism when he was a teenager, it suffers a bit from being somewhat familiar stuff. In fact, it reads like a second-tier Scorsese flick (the presence of Scorsese regulars Harvey Keitel, Robert DeNiro, and Ray Liotta, as well as the grittily realistic East Coast settings, no doubt contributes to that feeling) with a dollop of High Noon thrown in for good measure. But don’t misunderstand: It is well worth your time if you haven’t seen it, a solidly entertaining character study and cop thriller.

As for Stallone, well… all the buzz back in ’97 was completely deserved. I’ve never cared much for the man, to be honest, but this film is a genuine revelation. In Cop Land, he proves that he really can act (and no, I’ve never seen Rocky, which is usually offered up as a counterpoint when I say that). Here he plays a man who is pretty much the polar opposite of his usual on-screen persona. Instead of a swaggering, macho cartoon superhero, Freddie — the New Jersey sheriff — is a regular guy who’s been almost completely beaten down by disappointment and the feeling that he just wasn’t good enough to get what he wanted out of life. He’s overweight, wounded, tentative, complacent, the kind of man who takes a lot of shit and just smiles his way through it, even though something inside him twinges every single time one of his so-called friends cracks a joke at his expense or asks him to look the other way. He’s immensely likable and sympathetic in this part — we all know somebody like this, and I think many of us can identify with him, too. In the memorable words of DeNiro’s character, he’s a man waiting for something to do… and of course we all know that in the end he’s going to rise to the occasion and do it. What a shame this movie didn’t propel Stallone’s career onto another path as a true character actor, and that he’s instead had to pump himself up on steroids and just keep doing the same old schlock…

With the DVD format now in its final death spiral leading out of the marketplace, I find I’m buying more of them than ever. What’s happening is that retailers and budget stores that specialize in closeout merchandise are dumping old inventory at ridiculously low prices, in some cases lower than it would cost to rent them, assuming there were still any rental stores around. But of course browsing a video store for back-catalog stuff I haven’t seen is no longer an option, and Netflix’s recommendation algorithms just never seem to generate the same level of serendipity I used to experience as I wandered up and down aisles of actual, physical media. So I’ve taken to rolling the dice and buying el-cheapo DVDs at Big Lots sight-unseen on the off chance they may be something I’ll like. I admit I’ve ended up feeling like I wasted my money more than once. But I’ve also gotten lucky with a few titles that turned out to be really good. Or at least really interesting for some reason. Case in point: a 1976 film called Stay Hungry.

Directed by Bob Rafelson, who’s best known for the Jack Nicholson vehicle Five Easy Pieces — that’s the one with the famous scene of Jack dealing with an unpleasant waitress in his own inimitable fashion — Stay Hungry stars an achingly young Jeff Bridges as the only son of a wealthy Southern family who’s trying to find his place in the world following the death of his parents. Having fallen in with a group of real-estate developers who want to build a high-rise office tower, Bridges is given the assignment of acquiring the last hold-out property on the block, a broken-down old gymnasium. But the situation becomes complicated when Bridges finds himself drawn to the eccentric family of characters who inhabit the place, notably a perky receptionist and a charismatic bodybuilder named Joe Santo, who is in training for the upcoming Mr. Universe contest.

Stay Hungry is pretty typical of early-70s mainstream cinema, an uneasy blend of comedy and drama with a loosey-goosey plotline that sometimes feels aggravatingly aimless, as well as a tone that veers from whimsical to discomforting to downright horrifying, before veering into straight-out farce at the story’s climax. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was even liking the film until it was over — for the record, I’ve since decided that, yes, I did like it — but the one element that kept me going through my uncertainty was the cast. Jeff Bridges wasn’t yet the national treasure he has since become; in certain scenes, he comes off as trying too hard. But in others he was so perfectly naturalistic and utterly inhabiting the character, it’s easy to forget who you’re watching. And of course he’s always been an amiable presence, even in films where he’s played more unsympathetic characters.

The adorable Sally Field made her feature-film debut in Stay Hungry, successfully transitioning away from child-star television roles in Gidget and The Flying Nun, in part by baring her behind in a post-lovemaking scene. But even without that bonus attraction, she turns in a professional, layered performance and it’s very easy to believe Bridges would fall for her hard enough to change his entire life. (Full disclosure: I’ve always had a bit of a thing for Miss Frog.)

The supporting cast includes several familiar faces that are fun to see so much younger than we’re accustomed to, including Scatman Crothers as Bridges’ family butler, a pre-Freddy Krueger Robert Englund, Ed Begley Jr., and Roger C. Mosley, a.k.a. TC the chopper pilot on Magnum P.I.

But the really fascinating presence in this film is the guy playing Joe Santo, a real-life bodybuilder named… Arnold Schwarzenegger. Although Stay Hungry was technically his third film following Hercules in New York and Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye, this was the first time audiences had heard his true voice and his distinctive Austrian accent (he was dubbed in Hercules, and menacingly silent in the Altman film), so his credit in Stay Hungry justifiably reads “Introducing…” Arnie was at the height of his Mr. Universe days here — Joe Santo’s story is a thinly disguised version of his own biography — and his body is simply a wonder to behold, especially in the film’s conclusion when we see him in competition, flexing and posing alongside a man who is his equal in size, but lacks Arnold’s definition and — just as importantly — his showmanship. He truly was astounding. But far more captivating than his physique in this film is the character he played, so completely unlike the familiar wisecracking action-figure persona he adopted later on in the ’80s. Joe Santo is inhumanly focused on his workouts, yes, but other than that he’s… nice. He’s friendly and supportive of his friends and self-effacing and sympathetic. After a lifetime of “I’ll be back”-style quips, it’s downright startling to see Arnold playing just a guy. And even though I doubt he ever would have become a great actor, certainly not someone on the level of his Stay Hungry costar Jeff Bridges, I find myself a little sad that he didn’t play more regular guys in his acting career.

Anyhow, even with the caveat that this film is somewhat dated and something of a rambling shaggy-dog story, I recommend Stay Hungry purely on the strength of the cast, and especially on the unusual and refreshing performance by a very young Arnold. It turned out to be one of my better Big Lots gambles. If nothing else, it’s worth seeing for the scene in which The Terminator plays fiddle with a bunch of backwoods good old boys:

Well, I guess it’s officially a flop: Disney announced yesterday that it expects to lose $200 million on John Carter, all but guaranteeing that the first big-screen adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ classic Barsoom novels is also going to be the last. And what a damn shame, too, because I really liked it. The pacing was a little uneven, and I disagree with some of the changes that were made in adapting the story from the source material. (I could’ve done without the formulaic Hollywood backstory and character arc that was pasted onto the title character, i.e., the man who’s lost everything learning to live again; in the original stories, he was simply an adventurer who had to adapt to a new world, and then fell in love. Also, the books were filled with enough conflict between Barsoomian races and city-states without having to elevate the stakes to the would-be epic, survival-of-two-worlds-in-the-balance stuff that nearly every summer tentpole flick of the last 15 years has beaten into the ground. And I prefer the book’s conceit that JC was the only person who was capable of moving between Earth and Barsoom, and that he did it through mystical means rather than technological, as in the film.) But overall I was very pleased with the filmmakers’ fidelity to the details and spirit of the books, and I loved the fun, escapist tone that neither took itself too seriously nor played the material for campy laughs. And I thought the casting was spot-on. Taylor Kitsch and Lynn Collins aren’t John Carter and the lovely Dejah Thoris as I have imagined them for 30 years of my life… but they could be cousins to the people who live in my imagination, and that’s pretty damn satisfying.

I recognize that I approached John Carter with a certain predisposition to like it, and also viewed it through a particular filter, i.e., how well did it adapt the books I’ve loved since childhood? But I’ve also spoken to several people who admit they wouldn’t know Edgar Rice Burroughs from William S. Burroughs, so they had no preconceptions whatsoever, and they liked the movie, too. Based on their testimonies, I’m convinced the movie had the potential to appeal to a wider audience than it obviously has… which suggests to me that what I wrote a couple weeks ago about the weak marketing was right on target. Fingers are now being pointed in all directions, with some gossips blaming the film’s director, Andrew Stanton, for mistakenly believing this character was as well known as Tarzan and insisting on the vague, uninspiring ad campaign. Others are saying the movie fell victim to internal politics at Disney, with the execs who greenlighted the movie departing midway through its production and their replacements just wanting to get it out the door and over with. But again, whatever the cause, there’s no question in my mind that the marketing on this film stank worse than fresh calot droppings, and that had a tremendously negative impact on the movie’s performance. And it’s so deeply frustrating to me, both as an ERB fan and simply as a lover of good Saturday-matinee adventure flicks, because this movie so easily could have been handled differently, and with far happier results.

Consider this: Two clicks of my mouse this afternoon turned up a fan-made trailer that uses the same footage as the official ones, but is so much more reflective of what this movie is about, who John Carter is, why these stories matter, and how frickin’ awesome they can be:

Now that’s how you do a trailer for a rollicking planetary romance based on a seminal but no longer well-remembered literary work. This trailer makes me want to run out and see the film again, right now. So why couldn’t anyone at Disney figure out how to do something that good? Why didn’t they care about nurturing something that could’ve been major for them, instead of setting up a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure? (I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess; I’ve been asking the same questions for 20 years in regards to The Rocketeer, another great little movie with lots of franchise potential that Disney essentially dumped into theaters with very little support.)

Someday, somebody’s going to write a very interesting book on this debacle. In the meantime, I really hope this movie finds its audience on home video, and eventually comes to be recognized as something more than it was initially taken for.

Good evening… come on in. Why don’t you get yourself some popcorn and a Coke from our stunning black-on-silver art-deco refreshment stand? (Be nice to the charming and vivacious young lady manning the counter; you’ll find her attitude very different from the sullen mouth-breathers at the multiplex. She actually likes her job.) Yes, I know our modestly sized bags of corn look puny compared to those MegaTubs you’re accustomed to getting at the other places, but trust me: this is all you need.

Feel free to peruse the vintage one-sheets lining the walls of our lobby. Beautiful, aren’t they? Every one a genuine work of art, individually designed to uniquely showcase the films in question, painted by skilled craftsmen who’ve never heard of Photoshop.

Ah, here we are at the usher’s podium. We called it the chopper back in my day. But of course that means nothing to you, does it? Here, let me take your ticket. That little slip of inch-wide red cardstock there. What’s that? You wonder why it doesn’t tell you which film you’re seeing? But why would you… oh, I see why you’re confused. This ticket says only “Admit One,” without all the other extraneous information that’s printed on other movie tickets nowadays. But we don’t need all that nonsense here at the Black-and-White; you see, we have only the one screen. Now, go on into the auditorium and find a seat… watch your step, please, it’s a bit darker than what you’re probably used to. Slip into one of our low-back red-velvet seats. No, I’m sorry, they don’t rock, but you should find them comfortable enough. I have made one concession to your modern sensibilities: you’ll find the cupholder right there in front of you. There you are.

I hope you’ll use the last few minutes before the movie starts to relax or to converse quietly with your date. We have no pre-show reel to distract you with mindless advertising; this space is supposed to be isolated from the outside world, a bit of escapism even before the movie begins. Isn’t the hushed atmosphere so much nicer than all the blather that usually surrounds us? Please, don’t do that. You won’t be able to text or surf the web, not in my establishment. And no calls in or out, either, not while we’re here in the auditorium. Mobile phones don’t work here, not even the clock function, so you may as well put it back in your pocket and forget all about it for a couple hours. In a moment, there will be nothing trying to grab your attention except the film itself…. and here we go. The big waterfall curtain rises, the lights go down.

Tonight’s feature at Bennion’s Black-and-White Old-Tymey Movie Theatre is… Charlie Chan in Panama! A little bit of pre-war intrigue involving sabotage, a deadly plague, poisoned cigarettes, and the US Navy, all set against the exotic backdrop of the Panama Canal! SEE…  a beautiful refugee countess hiding out as a nightclub singer! SEE… the suave Latino club owner who has a secret identity! SEE… the author of countless “blood-and-thunder” adventure novels, drawn into a real-life web of danger!

Okay, I’ll drop the silly patter. Sorry. I was just having a bit of fun remembering/imagining the way movie-going used to be back when there was still some glamour to it. The truth is, Black-and-White Theatre tonight consisted of me sitting on the couch in my bathrobe in front of my hi-def TV, spinning a DVD of a flick from 1940 that I doubt anyone reading this has even heard of. A far cry from the fabled movie palaces of old… or even those far more modest neighborhood movie-houses that used to lure people inside during the hot summers with promises of air conditioning and all-day programs for a dime. They’re all gone now, the palaces and the small houses, all exterminated by the rise of the multiplex. But I love the movies that would’ve run at those places. Black-and-white is not inferior, kids! And just because something is old doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have the power to entertain…

Continue Reading…

The title of this entry doesn’t mean what you probably think I mean. Read on to see what I’m really getting at.

The Girlfriend and I finally made it to see Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides yesterday. I say “finally” because we’ve tried several times over the past couple of weeks to catch the latest installment of the franchise, but for various reasons we did not succeed on our earlier attempts. So, you may be wondering, was the wait worth it? Well, yes, I would say so. Despite the generally mediocre reviews, Anne and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. There’s a new director this time out — Rob Marshall took the helm from Gore Verbinski, who helmed the first three Pirates movies — and the change seems to have made a tremendous difference, especially in the action scenes, which are actually comprehensible in Stranger Tides. (That’s a big, BIG deal for me. I do not like the jittery, super-fast editing style where you lose track of who is doing what, and although the earlier Pirates movies never rose to the ridiculous level of the Bourne movies — i.e., total incomprehensibility — they flirted with it enough that I was frequently frustrated with them.)

This Pirates is smaller in scope than the wanna-be-epic second and third installments, a lot of extraneous characters from the “original trilogy” have been pared away, and the whole thing just feels much lighter overall. Like the other films in the series, it’s too bloody long. (How is it that Errol Flynn managed to get all his swashbuckling done in roughly 90 minutes, but modern-day pirates need two-and-a-half hours?) However, I can’t recall squirming in my seat or checking my watch once. I pumped my fist and/or laughed out loud a number of times. The sequence in which Captain Jack escapes from King George’s palace and tears off through the streets of 18th-century London with the redcoats in pursuit is as much fun as I’ve had at a movie in years. (That sequence also includes an unexpected and delightful cameo from the ever-lovely Dame Judi Dench, who always makes me happy.) Surprisingly, after four movies, On Stranger Tides still manages to produce a couple grin-inducing references to the Disneyland ride that inspired this whole thing. And Penelope Cruz dressed in pirate clothes is nothing less than a force of nature. So, yeah, I recommend it. It’s not a perfect movie by any means, but it is what a pirate movie ought to be, namely a nice bit of summertime escapism from the dreary, slow-motion horror that is 21st century.

You wanna know what really made me happy about Pirates 4, though? This is probably going to sound very strange, but it is what it is…  I found I was irrationally pleased to see a pattern of flickering horizontal scratches along the right side of the screen throughout the entire length of the movie. As a former projectionist, I spotted them instantly, and knew exactly what caused them. Once upon a time, scratches like that on such a relatively new film would’ve driven me crazy. Anathema! My job back then, and my quest as a viewer, was to achieve a perfect presentation, or as close to perfect as you could get with a strip of easily damaged celluloid sliding through a whirring, spinning, film-shredding mechanical gauntlet. In recent years, we’ve finally achieved perfection in the form of digital projection technology: a digitally projected movie is always crystal clear, always clean, the same after 1,000 or even 10,000 screenings as it was on the very first one. But that has created a different kind of problem, at least for me. Yes, I’m going to say exactly what my Loyal Readers are anticipating. Something has been lost in the change to digital projection. Movies don’t look like films anymore, if that makes sense. They no longer have the imperfections that used to be part of the experience: the film grain and dust specks and scratches and all the other stuff we tried so hard to eliminate. It’s arguably not the same art form any longer, because the medium is so utterly different now.

Seeing those scratches on Pirates 4 was a dead giveaway that I was watching actual film, that there was a human being up there in the booth threading a strip of celluloid through the rollers and sprockets and gates before every show, and not just a computer that turned everything on at the appointed time. The projectionist had made a mistake at some point and damaged the print, true, but those platter scratches (not to mention the eruption of scratches and garbage around one of the reel changes!) were organic to the medium, and weirdly enough, I did enjoy seeing them. It made me realize how much I miss scratches and hairs stuck in the gate and juddery splice marks and the “cigarette burns” that used to signal the end of a reel, and all the other artifacts of the Way Things Used to Be that have been lost since everything became just another variety of computer.

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides was a good movie, yes, but it was also a good film, in the literal sense. And it was really wonderful to see one again. At least it was for me… your mileage may vary.