The Screengrab : airplane!

Screengrab Review: Milk

Paul Clark — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 15:34:00 GMT

Following the 2005 release of Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, there was some excitement over the possibility that more high-profile gay-themed movies would follow, a development that didn’t really pan out. Now, three years later, Hollywood has once again decided to tackle gay-friendly subject matter, this time the life of slain San Francisco politician and activist Harvey Milk- directed by the openly gay filmmaker Gus Van Sant, no less. But while the film has attained a certain amount of contemporary relevance with its parallels to California’s recently-passed Proposition 8, Milk biggest breakthrough may be the idea that the lives of gay heroes can be boiled down to the Hollywood biopic formula just as easily as their straight counterparts.

Think I’m kidding? Let’s go to the tape: middle-aged Milk (Sean Penn), fed up with his life, moves to San Francisco with his new boyfriend Scott Smith (James Franco). Appalled at the treatment of homosexuals even in the most gay-friendly neighborhood of the most gay-friendly metropolis in America, he’s spurred on to community activism, which ends up leading to politics. After three unsuccessful runs for public office, he finally wins a seat on city’s Board of Supervisors. There, he spearheads a number of major social reforms, including an effort to shoot down the hateful Briggs Initiative in 1978, before being gunned down by a disgruntled formal colleague. Take out the homosexual material and a few of the other details and we could just as easily be talking about any number of civil rights leaders. Hell, there’s even a frightened wheelchair-bound gay boy who inadvertently inspires Milk during his time of doubt, and Smith essentially gets assigned the role of the requisite concerned significant other who wrings his hands and tells Harvey that he’s not devoting enough time to the person who loves him most.

Material this formulaic (courtesy of Big Love writer Dustin Lance Black) would not seem to suit the recent career trajectory of Van Sant, who has lately made a series of highly experimental meditations on death. However, Milk finds Van Sant largely on autopilot, telling his story in a straightforward style that’s virtually indistinguishable than that of most Oscar-bait dramas. Gone are the spare, largely experiential narratives of his other recent films, in favor of a conventional mode of storytelling, with plenty of stock footage and montages to establish the film’s historical context. And while there’s plenty of first-rate cinematography from Van Sant favorite Harris Savides, Van Sant keeps his trademark expressionistic soundscapes to a minimum. Practically the only scenes in the film that feel unmistakably Van Santian are those involving Milk’s fellow supervisor and eventual killer Dan White, played, in yet another in a string of vivid character performances, by Josh Brolin.

If there’s one thing that’s especially distinguished about Milk, it’s the acting. Not only is Brolin perfectly cast as White, but so are Franco, Diego Luna as Milk’s ill-fated rebound lover, Alison Pill as the butch, no-nonsense campaign manager, Denis O’Hare as the hateful Briggs, and so on. Best of all is Emile Hirsch as Cleve Jones, a former hustler who under Milk’s mentorship is reborn as an activist. And Van Sant wisely lets Anita Bryant play herself in stock footage, letting the smiling, singing anti-gay gorgon serve as a distant, but very real enemy to the beliefs espoused by Milk and his followers. That Bryant would quickly turn from a political force to a punchline in Airplane! in a scant two years is one of history’s more humorous small miracles.

But if the film works- and on balance, I’d say it mostly does- it’s because of Penn, who gives his best performance since… Sweet and Lowdown? Dead Man Walking? Carlito’s Way? Suffice it to say that he’s pretty great here, infusing the wit and intensity that has marked his best performances with a warmth that I’ve never seen from him before. Penn’s Milk is a natural leader because he cares and brings out the best in those around him, but Penn also doesn’t shy away from the thornier aspects of the character. Unfortunately, the film itself isn’t nearly as well-equipped to deal with the contradictions of a man who advocated coming out of the closet yet remained closeted himself for over forty years, who was both an impassioned advocate for social change and a canny politician and self-promoter. At one point, Milk mentions that three of his lovers have attempted suicide, and it comes as a shock because the film so completely paints him as a caring partner and companion. And this, more than anything else, is what keeps Milk from being the cinematic landmark that it so clearly aches to be- that it’s so eager to give the audience Harvey Milk the secular saint that it ultimately forgets about Harvey Milk the man.

Special Election Year Report: Unfunny Conservatives Battle Racist Chihuahuas at the Box Office

Phil Nugent — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 17:00:00 GMT

Jean-Luc Godard once said that Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 had surely done its part in getting George W. Bush re-elected. You may disagree, but if an investigating committee of impartial wise men were formed to rank every statement of a political nature that Godard has ever issued in descending order of just how deranged they sound, it's doubtful that the sneer at Moore would make the top hundred. (Maybe not the top five hundred.) Moore said back in 2004 that he hoped that his movie would have an effect on the election, and maybe it did. (How he though that he might inspire some effect that was hurtful to Bush by making a movie specifically designed to comfort those who already agreed with him one-hundred percent while confusing anyone on the fence and pissing off and galvanizing everyone on the other side is a question for a different investigating committee of impartial wise men.) To hear them tell it, David Zucker and the other conservative Hollywood players who worked on An American Carol would like to have an impact on this year's election but are having trouble breaking through that gosh-darn media filter. Zucker, who will probably always be best known, especially at the rate he's going, as part of the team that wrote Kentucky Fried Movie and went on to create Airplane! and the Police Squad/The Naked Gun franchise, has weighed in on political matters before. A few years ago, he produced and directed a series of political ads, including the one above, which chastises the Democrats for being too soft to dictators and terrorists, and the one below, which compares James Baker and the Iraq Study Group to Neville Chamberlain. Basically, the spots look a lot like what you might get if a smart new comedy troupe were to fantasize about what would result from one of the Airplane! guys got it into his head that he was a political satirist. Politically and historically, they're garbled all to hell--for instance, you might get the impression from the first one that Zucker thinks that the Clinton administration's negotiations with North Korea had resulted in Kim Jong Il developing his own nuclear weapons and the Bush administration's refusal to talk to that government had cowed them, instead of the other way around--but you do get to see an overweight Madeleine Albright impersonator in a bad dye job split her skirt. As the Drudge Report noted at the time in an exclusive report on a screening for political insiders, "One GOP strategist said 'jaws dropped when the ad was first viewed. "Nobody could believe Zucker thought any political organization could use this ad."

An American Carol stars Kevin Farley--Chris's brother--as a Michael Moore-like filmmaker who, after a setback with the failure of his latest cinematic diatribe Die, You American Pigs!, tries to regain his rad-lib street cred with a campaign to ban the Fourth of July. To set him straight, he is visited by a vision of John Kennedy and then by the ghosts of George Washington (Jon Voight), General George Patton (Kelsey Grammar--and if you were forced to pick out one role best associated with George C. Scott that could also be a good fit for Sideshow Bob, wouldn't this be the one to jump out at you?), and an angel of death, played by a typecast Trace Atkins. The all-star cast also includes Leslie Nielson, who Zucker must keep stashed in a safety deposit box between films, as well as James Woods, Dennis Hopper, Robert Davi, Paris Hilton, Kevin Sorbo, Gary Coleman, and Bill O'Reilly--as "himself", thank God. (Really, does anyone want to see Bill O'Reilly stretch himself as a performer?) Considering what's known about the movie, including its trailer and the stuff you just read here, it doesn't strike me as shocking that it didn't do well in its first weekend. Especially since the movie wasn't screened for critics, meaning that the first real reviews didn't start dribbling in until the day after it opened. This is a well-known sign of a stinker, one that moviegoers have learned to pick up on. It should be noted, though, that Zuvker has explained that in this case it was a protective measure, meant to shield the film from liberal critics who would never judge it fairly. (Full discolsure: This writer's politics are probably closer to Michael Moore's than to Jon Voight's. However, I once had to kill a blog that I had worked on for a over a year because of the flood of comments from people wishing me a slow, painful death after I wrote there that I had problems with Michael Moore's work and suspected that his farts do not smell like sweet honey. Also, though basic human sensitivity keeps me from describing my actual reaction to the news that Chris Farley had died, I can say that it was not anything like, "Oh, if only he has an equally unfunny, lookalike brother who can some day continue his mission on Earth!")

The filmmakers might have been expected to react to the collapse of their box office hopes in any number of ways. They might have re-thought the no-press-screenings rule, for instance, or maybe regretted not having asked Kevin Sorbo to do full frontal. Maybe even regretted not having asked Kelsey Grammar to do full frontal. (Dennis Hopper and Gary Coleman hardly need to be asked.) But instead, they have floated the notion that a kind of voter fraud is going on: At a page at the movie's slow-moving web site (was it designed by John McCain?) they wrote: "We have had heard from numerous people across the country that there has been some ticket fraud when buying a ticket for An American Carol this past weekend. Please check your ticket. If you were in fact one of those people that were "mistakenly" sold a ticket for another movie please fill out the form below. Hold on to your ticket so we can have proof. If you have noticed other irregularities with the theatres in your area please let us know in the comment section below. For instance, Rated R film rating (when in fact we are rated PG-13), posters not being up, not being listed on the marquee, image or focus problems, sound issues, etc. Please email us a picture of your ticket stub to fraud@americancarol.com.") The page has since been taken down, indicating either that liberal hackers are making mischief or the filmmakers' lawyers gave them a pep talk explaining such arcane concepts as "baseless charges", "talking out your ass", and "sue you back to the Stone Age." (Meanwhile right wingers on-line are keeping the spirit alive. Still you'd think that the director of BASEketball and My Boss's Daughter would be better equipped to shrug off failure; it's not as if he hasn't had some practice at it. Then again, maybe even Ed Wood would have trouble processing the information that his labor of love got its ass kicked by Beverly Hills Chihuahua. It can't help that a recent article in Slate tagged Beverly Hills Chihuahua as an implicitly conservative movie that uses racist images of Mexico and Hispanic dogs to, confusingly, peddle a message of tolerance, brotherhood, and hitting on the landscaper. Take it away, Lou Dobbs!

Will Elder, 1921--2008

Phil Nugent — Mon, 19 May 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Will Elder has died at the age of 87, after a battle with Parkinson's. A commercial artist and cartoonist, he spent much of his life all but joined at the hip to the great Harvey Kurtzman, who created Mad for EC Comics in 1952. Elder, who had been a classmate and collaborator of Kurtzman's from years before, became the defining artistic voice of Mad in its comic book period; he and Kurtzman had similar senses of humor, and when Elder illustrated Kurtzman's scripts eviscerating such cultural touchstones as Mickey Mouse, Sherlock Holmes, and Archie and Jughead. After Kurtzman left Mad in 1957, Elder followed him loyally through a string of short-lived humor magazines: Trump (a Garden of Eden for print humor of the period, and one that lasted all of two issues), Humbug (which is set to be republished in its entirety later this year by Fantagraphics), and Help! Though it was the most uneven of all these publications, it was for Help! that Kurtzman and Elder created the doomed all-American careerist boy Goodman Beaver, star of their masterpiece, "Goodman Goes Playboy," featuring characters from their earlier "Archie" parody. That story was kept out of circulation by years due to threat of legal action from the publishers of "Archie" comics, who were unamused to learn that their red-headed cash cow was throwing orgies in his vast hipster crash pad after selling his soul to the devil. Which is ironic, since everyone who participated in suppressing the story has, of course, gone to Hell for it.

After Help! went bust, Kurtzman (who died in 1993) and Elder mainly kept their hand in with irregular installments of the Playboy feature "Little Annie Fanny", which boasted eye-popping, gorgeous painted artwork by Elder. In his later years, Elder busied himself by jovially witnessing his belated transformation into a living legend, a process helped along by the publication (in two volumes) of all the "Little Annie Fanny" stories as well as the gratifyingly thick tribute volumes Will Elder: The Mad Playboy of Art and Chicken Fat. Although he never actually worked for the movies, to a great degree, movie comedy of the second half of the twentieth century is unimaginable without Elder's influence. His propensity for packing gags upon gags is there in the work of such directors as Richard Lester and the Louis Malle of Zazie dans le Metro, not to mention Airplane!, and the self-conscious analysis of pop culture that he and Kurtzman developed in their work planted the seeds for much of what sprouted in movies in the 1960s and 1970s, from the use of old gangster and private eyes movies as the basis for something new and self-critical in Bonnie & Clyde and The Long Goodbye to George Lucas reviving old Saturday matinee serials with a more or less straight face. Portzebie, and out.