The Screengrab : dalton trumbo

Millard Kaufman, 1917 - 2009

Phil Nugent — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 14:30:00 GMT

Millard Kaufman, who died on Saturday at the age of 92, was a veteran screenwriter with a wide-ranging career that had a few notable highs. A graduate of John Hopkins University, Kaufman served as a marine in the Pacific during World War II. Upon his return to the States, he moved to California and broke in as a writer for UPA cartoons. He first made history as the co-creator, with director John Hubley and actor Jim Backus, of the near-sighted perambulator and Stag Beer pitchman Mr. Magoo. The character first appeared in Kaufman's script for the 1949 short Ragtime Bear; according to that distinguished on-line journal of film studies Wikipedia, "Columbia was reluctant to release the short, but did so, only because it included a bear." On this point, I refer you back to the film's title. (Apparently bears were big box office in those days.) Despite Harry Cohn's ursine fetish, Magoo turned out to be the chief audience attraction, and the blind sumbitch would become UPA's most enduring star character. A year later, Kaufman would officially break into live-action features as the credited author of the cult noir classic Gun Crazy, though in fact, he was fronting for the blacklisted Dalton Trumbo. On his own, Kaufman racked up two Academy Award nominations for writing Richard Brooks's Take the High Ground! (1953), starring Richard Widmark as a drill instructor, and John Sturges's Bad Day at Black Rock (1955), a taut melodrama notable for its muckraking focus on racist mistreatment of Asian-Americans during World War II.

Kaufman also wrote and produced Raintree County (1957) and directed the 1962 Convicts 4. In his later scripts, he returned to military themes again and again; his last credit was for the 1980 TV docudrama Enola Gay: The Men, the Mission, the Atomic Bomb. Two years ago, he made a surprise comeback when McSweeney's published his first novel, Bowl of Cherries, which he began working on when he as 86. His second novel, Misadventure, will be published posthumously. He is survived by his wife, Lorraine; they were married for 66 years.

The Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon: "It's a Wonderful Life"

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 20:30:00 GMT

Eight films into our little holiday movie marathon, we finally arrive at the one that most of our readers who haven't spent the last sixty years in the Witness Protection Program in a cave on Mars have probably already seen a dozen times or so: Frank Capra's legendary 1946 Christmas movie, It's a Wonderful Life. While there's been dozens and dozens of adaptations of A Christmas Carol, there's only one It's a Wonderful Life: despite decades of references, parodys, homages and metacommentaries, the big-screen adaptation of the Phillip Van Doren short story "The Greatest Gift" remains one of a kind. Thanks to an inexplicable chain of events that led to its falling into the public domain for a number of years, it was shown on pretty much every television station at Christmas for decades; finding someone in the U.S. who hasn't seen it is next to impossible.

The challenge when discussing It's a Wonderful Life, then, isn't to explain its plot or detail the great things about it: these are things most people know intimately from repeated first-hand experience. The challege is to think of something new to say about a movie that almost everyone of a certain age has seen, probably more than once. Frank Capra's surehanded direction, the solid script (primarily by Capra and Frances Goodrich), and iconic performances by screen legend Jimmy Stewart (whose interpretation of George Bailey is more responsible than anything for the cultural shorthand we now have for him), future television star Donna Reed, and Hollywood patriarch Lionel Barrymore are the building blocks for a film that defines the word "Capraesque", but what makes it resonate so? It it simple repetition that makes this the Christmas classic above all others?

Entire books have been written about It's a Wonderful Life, and we'll be breaking no new ground in discussing the film in our limited space. But one thing worth mentioning is that how terrifically effective the entire cast is: at a time when the star system was in full swing, Capra and his collaborators (which included script doctors in the uncredited form of Clifford Odets and Dalton Trumbo) populated Bedford Falls with an entire star system of great actors and actresses, many of them character types who gave the performances of their careers in the film. The entire cast seems to take their acting cues from the oversized yet surprisingly natural performance of Jimmy Stewart, who had to be talked into playing the role -- his first since returning from a traumatic tour of duty in WWII.

One thing that's finally getting a due amount of attention after years of being glossed over in critical overviews, at a time when "Capraesque" was misguided jargon for simple-minded patriotic feel-good movies, is how deeply dark and sometimes subversive It's a Wonderful Life can be. Mixed in with all the appropriately heartwarming stuff about family, neighborliness and the power of choosing life is some undeniably cynical, nasty commentary on life as we live it. Capra lets his social-realist background bubble surpringly to the fore considering this is a movie with a bumbling trainee angel named Clarence in it, and for a movie most parents feel totally at ease showing to their children, there are many dark hints of suicide, prostitution, economic ruin, and anti-capitalism so pronounced that the FBI was said to consider the entire film merely an elevated form of Red propaganda designed to soften up our citizens to commie anti-banker rhetoric.

J. Edgar Hoover's boys weren't exactly off by a mile. Frank Capra meant for It's a Wonderful Life to be inspirational as well as confrontational, to show an American spirit challenged and often miserable if always ultimately triumphant. This was the only major motion picture to be produced by Capra's Liberty Studio, a venture designed to showcase serious issue-driven films about what it means to be an American; but even if it were the only major motion picture Capra ever made, it would be enough. In a way, it's fortunate that RKO's operators made the foolish mistake of not renewing the film's copyright at a critical time: when It's a Wonderful Life slid into the public domain, it ensured that it would be viewable at least once a year by audiences who might not have otherwise gotten a chance to see it, and fully take in its hidden depths.

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS RATING: An unparallelled 12 drummers drumming out a message of hope and redemption. Simply one of the greatest Christmas stories ever told, as well as one of the finest movies of its era (even if it did get screwed by the Motion Picture Academy. If you have the chance, I'd also recommend a viewing of Hirokazu Koreeda's masterful After Life (Japanese title: Wandafuru Raifu), a brilliant, unforgettable film that isn't a holiday movie but purely and beatifully distills the esence of It's a Wonderful Life -- its primary influence -- in an astonishing way.

The Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon: The Nighmare Before Christmas

Yesterday's Hits: Exodus (1960, Otto Preminger)

Paul Clark — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Yesterday, we paid tribute to the life and career of Paul Newman with a list of our picks for his greatest performances. And looking back, it’s easy to see the Newman made quite a few movies that were not only very good, but eventually became acknowledged as classics. But for this week’s installment of Yesterday’s Hits, I’d like to explore one of Newman’s films that was incredibly popular in its day but hasn’t endured quite like his best films- 1960’s Exodus.

What made Exodus a hit?: It seems strange now, but there was a time when the majority of box office hits were based on bestselling novels. People would read the latest literary blockbuster, then flock to the movies to see the cinematic version of the story. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, historical fiction was in vogue, and one of the most popular books of the time was Leon Uris’ 1956 novel Exodus. A dramatization of the 1948 founding of the state of Israel, Exodus captivated readers who enjoyed the way Uris interspersed a recent historical event with invented and composited characters. By the time Exodus became America’s biggest bestseller since Gone With the Wind, it was inevitable that it would be headed for the big screen.

Knowing the value of the property (Uris sold the rights even before the book hit bookstore shelves) MGM pulled out all the stops to make Exodus a major, A-list production. Tapped to direct was Otto Preminger, one of Hollywood’s best-known and boldest filmmakers, and himself of Jewish descent. In turn, Preminger hired the previously blacklisted Dalton Trumbo to handle screenwriting duties, which along with Trumbo’s work on Spartacus effectively ended the blacklist. The film was to be shot entirely on location in Cyprus and Israel, where the book had also been set. And the casting befitted a production of this scale. The cast was led by Newman, one of Hollywood’s hottest leading men, and also included Oscar winner Eva Marie Saint, Oscar nominees Lee J. Cobb, Ralph Richardson, and Sal Mineo, and up-and-comer Peter Lawford. As expected, the film was a big hit, bringing in more than $8 million domestically to become one of the top grossers of 1960.

What happened?: As with anything else, tastes change. To begin with, readers are a fickle bunch, and the popular taste for historical fiction was supplanted by other genres. Moviegoing audiences soon followed suit, and the historical epics that loomed large over the box office in the early 1960 soon gave way to hits that were more visceral or fanciful. Today, in a time when the only three-hour blockbusters are fantasy stories, Exodus would most likely be relegated to the Oscar-bait pile, given a limited release in late December before going wider in mid-January.

Does Exodus still work?: Almost, but not quite. It begins very well, with the famous incident in which hundreds of Jewish refugees attempted to escape their captivity on the island of Cyprus and sail to Palestine. In this section of the film, Preminger does a very good job at capturing the event in a way that does justice to those who lived it and while also being narratively compelling. These scenes aren’t particularly complex from a moral standpoint- the British are trying to block the Jews from their freedom, so they rebel by staging a hunger strike- but they have a clarity of purpose that gets the movie off on the right foot.

However, once the story gets to Palestine, much of the focus is lost, and despite a stirring score by Ernest Gold, the film begins to seriously drag. The cast of characters, previously united by the escape attempt, splinters the story into a number of different plot strands that are meant to encompass the difficult birthing process for the state of Israel. For example, Newman’s Ari Ben Canaan works with his father (Cobb) to establish the nation in a peaceful manner, whereas Dov Landau (Mineo) joins up with a group of resistance fighters. These stories are only as effective as the characters who inhabit them, and unfortunately, the quality of character development varies greatly.

Given particularly short shrift are the women. The American nurse Kitty Fremont (Saint) is clearly meant to function as the audience surrogate in the drama, gradually coming to an understanding of the ongoing plight- and enduring humanity- of the Jewish people. But as a character, she’s kind of a non-starter, carried along by the demands of the plot instead of by her own strongly defined nature. Even more sketchy is the character of Karen, played by newcomer Jill Haworth. In the course of the film, Karen reveals herself as a symbol of the fortunes of the Jewish people in Palestine. At the beginning of the story, she’s full of hope and promise, only to grow increasingly disillusioned once she arrives. By the time the film turns her into an innocent martyr in the final reel- buried alongside a sympathetic Arab, no less- the symbol has become far too belabored for its own good.

Faring much better is Mineo, who was never one of the breakout stars of the Method generation but who was one of its most interesting actors. Dov’s storyline is somewhat awkwardly integrated into the rest of the film, but they work pretty nicely on their own, due in large part to Mineo’s performance. It helps that the Dov Landau storyline contains some of the film’s edgiest material, as when he admits to working as a Sonderkommando in Auschwitz, and more. Preminger, never one to shy away from controversy, changed Dov’s back story from the original novel, so whereas he survived as a forger in Uris’ book, Preminger and Trumbo made his method of survival somewhat more unpleasant. I admit that I was a little shocked that the line, “they used me… like a woman!” passed muster under the Production Code.

As for Newman, it’s not one of his great performances, but he’s fine in a role that makes effective use of his star charisma. And when he’s called on to make an impassioned speech in the film’s final scene, he pulls it off without coming off as sanctimonious. There are a number of elements to the film that just don’t work, or which have dated poorly. However, the sentiments Newman expresses in his final eulogy are as relevant today as ever. The situation between the Jews and Arabs is as uneasy as it ever was, and we’re no closer to a solution than we were half a century ago. And while Exodus doesn’t quite stand the test of time, these lines still hit home:

”The dead always share the Earth in peace- and that’s not enough. It’s time for the living to have a turn. The day will come when Arab and Jew will share in a peaceful life this land that they have always shared in death.”

Screengrab Presents: The Top 25 War Films (Part Seven)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 23:30:00 GMT

HONORABLE MENTION

300 (2007)

Even relatively anti-war films like Platoon acknowledge the fierce camaraderie and euphoric adrenalin rush of warriors in combat, but this surrealistic adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel about a legendary phalanx of Spartans taking on a zillion enemy warriors is all bloodlust, all the time. Yet, while historically suspect (since modern researchers are pretty sure the power-mad Persian king Xerxes didn’t really command a legion of trolls, orcs and giants from the darkest reaches of Middle Earth), and hardly on par with more serious evocations of combat (like, say, Apocalypse Now or Full Metal Jacket), 300 is notable, like many of the best war films, as a reflection of its time. Some critics detected jingoistic echoes of George W. Bush’s “bring ‘em on” foreign policy in the refusal of Spartan badass King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) to negotiate with foreign powers, going it alone with his own Coalition of the Willing when other nations (and a cowardly Congress...er, Spartan Council) refuse to authorize war against an imminent Persian threat to democracy and freedom. Just as Nixon reportedly watched Patton over and over again before sending troops into Cambodia, it’s easy to imagine Bush viewing 300 to make himself feel better about sending American troops into combat without sufficient body armor: after all, Leonidas and his 299 BFFs take down half Xerxes’ army bare-chested! Framed as a tale of indeterminate tallness relayed by a warrior to inspire his fellow troops on the verge of combat, the fetishized fairy tale unreality of 300’s violence, tone and (xenophobic) politics, its conflicted homophobic/homoerotic ideal of manliness, its complete surrender to (and celebration of) CGI fakery and its wild popularity and seductive guilty pleasure craftsmanship all combine into a fascinating time capsule of an age when troops compare combat to video games and the line between fact and fiction, has never seemed quite so blurry.

JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN (1971)

Some antiwar films spin their message with subtlety, some with humor, some with grace and some with a quiet sense of loss. Not Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun: it cuffs you to your chair and spends the next two hours beating you over the head with its message that war is nothing more than a huge grinding machine designed to destroy bodies and minds. Based on his own novel – which had the misfortune to appear on the eve of the Second World War, thus assuring its brutal message would be completely drowned out – Johnny Got His Gun was directed and written by Trumbo himself, following a thirty-year quest to bring the story to the screen. It’s not a particularly accomplished movie; Trumbo was a first-time director, and it shows. But the sheer horror it conveys through the portrayal of young Joe Bonham, a WWI veteran who has been rendered more or less a human paperweight by an enemy shell, and the sheer contempt it shows for a social order in which hundreds of thousands of lives are destroyed as if that were an acceptable way to solve problems, makes for a devastating viewing experience, and one which found a much more receptive audience at the height of the Vietnam War. (Many viewers later became familiar with Johnny Got His Gun due to its being heavily excerpted in Metallica’s video for “One”; the band had encountered so many difficulties in licensing individual scenes that they eventually just bought the entire move outright.)

THE GENERAL (1927)

Buster Keaton's Civil War comedy starring a train is probably the greatest war comedy of the silent era, unless you want to count The Birth of a Nation as history's little joke on D. W. Griffith's reputation. In the big battle scene, the Union army was played by five hundred members of the Oregon National Guard, and the Confederates were played by the same five hundred members of the Oregon National Guard, after a quick costume change. Apparently Keaton had some doubts about the acting ability of the guy playing the Northern general who sees the train tumbling into a river as the bridge it's crossing is dynamited, since legend has it that he didn't tell the fellow that the bridge he was facing was about to be blown up while the train was crossing it; certainly the man's expression of surprise is Oscar-worthy. After the location shooting was done, Keaton and his crew went back to Hollywood without bothering to clean up after themselves, and the wreckage of the train remained where it had fallen. The locals turned it into a tourist attraction until the scrap metal was needed during World War II.

MEN IN WAR (1957)

This diamond-hard Korean War drama was directed by Anthony Mann, a once-neglected action master who's now best remembered for his Westerns with James Stewart. Though little known, this movie is up there with the best of those. The superb cast is headed by Robert Ryan as a lieutenant in charge of a platoon lost behind enemy lines. As they inch their way along in search of safe ground, they're joined by a couple of strays: blunt, bullying Aldo Ray and Robert Keith -- gaunt and aged-looking, with huge hands and haunted eyes -- as a mute, shell-shocked Colonel who Ray treats as protectively as an especially mean seeing eye watching out for its master. The flat simplicity of the movie's title summons up echoes of early Hemingway, and its best scenes would do Papa proud.

Click Here for Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five & Part Six

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Leonard Pierce, Phil Nugent

Hollywood Conservatives Face "New McCarthyism", Goblins, Unicorns

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 18:30:00 GMT

One of the favorite activities of the modern movement conservative is to claim that, since not every single aspect of the culture panders to him, he is being discriminated against. Having never actually experienced any actual discrimination -- unlike, say, black people -- the right-winger seems to believe that it is an oppression too heavy to be borne that he is sometimes made aware of things that he does not personally enjoy. Liberal arts classes in college taught by liberals? Discrimination against conservatives! Some people don't adhere to the tenents of the Southern Baptist Convention? Discrimination against conservatives! Young people listening to the rappity-hop music? Discrimination against conservatives!

This week has seen a big push in one of the favorite such complaints of the movement conservative: that, because of the preponderance of liberals in Hollywood, conservatives are being discriminated against in Hollywood. Jason Appuzzo, founder of the late, unlamented Libertas Film Festival, was one of the biggest purveyors of this ridiculous myth; Brent Bozell is another. But in the last ten days, we've seen an op-ed by Jon Voight in the right-wing Washington Times in which he blamed American liberals for the murder of millions by the Cambodian dictator Pol Pot, and claimed that "if, God forbid, we live to see Obama president, we will live through a socialist era that America has not seen before, and our country will be weakened in every way". The editorial was widely scoffed at, and conservative gadflies, who mistake being made fun of for being blackballed and having your entire career destroyed, immediately came crawling up from the cellar to complain about "establishment entertainment journalists expertly wielding the tools of the New McCarthyism". So says Andrew Breitbart (who, earlier this year, I heard peddle the absurd notion that Hollywood celebrities are afraid to say they support our troops in Iraq, lest they face censure at the hands of the liberal bosses). While conservatives almost universally react to liberal opinions on the part of entertainers with some variant of "shut up and sing" (witness the widespread hostility the Dixie Chicks faced a few years ago), let one of their own get laughed at for mouthing of some ill-conceived right-wing talking point, and we're witnessing the vile fascism of "a town that doesn't embrace free speech anymore". Breitbart's commenters are even worse, claiming that "the old McCarthyism was harmless compared to the new". (Those who wish to compare and contrast may note that Mr. Voight currently has three films in production, and starred in one of the most successful films of 2007, as opposed to, say, Dalton Trumbo, who spent a year in prison because of the blacklist, or Hanns Eisler, who was more or less forced to leave the country and ended up in the hands of the Soviet East Germans, or Alvah Bessie, who never worked in her chosen profession again, or Canada Lee, Bartley Crum and John Garfield, who all died because of the horrible after-effects of coming under McCarthyite scrutiny.)

Meanwhile, the Weekly Standard featured a cover story entitled "Hollywood Takes on the Left", in which David Zucker outlines his difficulties and frustrations in making An American Carol, his long-promised conservative comedy. Zucker, too, complains of a "new McCarthyism" in Hollywood, designed to keep Republicans out, and frets that "conservative films are almost illegal in Hollywood". Even if one ignores the fact that movie studios are owned and run by capitalist multimillionaires who are hardly hostile to the core principles of conservativism, this absurd sense of pseudo-oppression fails for one simple reason: audiences tend to like or dislike movies based on whether or not they're entertaining, not based on their ideological bias. (After all, as conservatives love to remind us, liberal anti-Iraq War films have been duds at the box office.) If Zucker's film fails, it won't be because of some mythical Hollywood liberal mafia; it will be because the movie is preachy instead of funny, and audiences don't like preachy.

Luckily, because of the freedom of speech people like them denied victims of the blacklist in the 1950s, Zucker, Breitbart, Voight, and their ilk are welcome to complain all they like about how terribly oppressed they are; that they actually do so is all the evidence you need of the moral bankruptcy of the modern conservative movement.

The Rep Report (January 23 - 30)

Phil Nugent — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 17:00:00 GMT

SAN FRANCISCO: The 6th Annual Noir City Film Festival at the Castro is jam-packed with seamy rarities and not-available-on-DVD obscurities. It opens on January 25 with a tribute to actress Joan Leslie, who'll be interviewed onstage between screenings of the 1947 Repeat Performance and the striking 1943 backstage drama The Hard Way. There are also tributes to Dalton Trumbo — the Trumbo-scripted Joseph Losey film The Prowler will be introduced by modern noir master James Ellroy, and they'll even show the movie if ever stops talking — actress Gail Russell, and the granite-jawed Charles McGraw, who appears in Anthony Mann's Border Incident and Reign of Terror (sometimes known as The Black Book, and starring Richard Basehart as that least likely of noir villains, Maximilien Robespierre. ("Don't call me Max!")

LOS ANGELES: Your obedient Jew, Mel Brooks, will be on hand fora festival of his films at the American Cinematheque from January 23 through the 30th. Brooks will kick things off by introducing his little-seen sophomore effort, the 1970 The Twelve Chairs, based on an Ilf and Petrov novel and starring the young Frank Langella, Dom DeLuise, and the criminally underutilized British actor Ron Moody. On Saturday, he'll participate in a discussion between films during a double fill of his first big hit, the 1974 Blazing Saddles, and perhaps his most underappreciated comedy, the 1981 centuries-spanning vaudeville show The History of the World — Part 1. Given Brooks's legendary reputation as one of the funniest talkers of the age, this event might be of interest even to comedy aficionados who already have the movies themselves well memorized.

NEW YORK: The Film Society of Lincoln Center's "Envisioning Russia: A Century of Filmmaking" (January 25 – February 14) is a big, ambitious program that concentrates on the output of Mosfilm, "the largest and most productive film studio during the Soviet era, which remains Russia’s most important film institution even today." Included are such chestnuts as Potemkin and the post-Stalin The Cranes Are Flying, as well as Tarkovsky's Mirror and other, lesser-known films such as Karen Shakhnazarov's1983 Jazzman, about a musician whose tastes run counter to those officially sanctioned by Moscow, and the more recent Happiness and Cargo 200.

Vanishing Act: Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sanchez

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 17:00:00 GMT

Filmmakers disappear for all sorts of reasons. Eccentric geniuses like Kubrick and Malick are known for taking many years between projects and working in complete secrecy. Actors (Charles Laughton, Marlon Brando) and writers (Dalton Trumbo, Stephen King) may dabble with one-and-done efforts and never return to the director’s chair. An Ed Burns may make a big splash with his debut, churn out a series of increasingly lame follow-ups, and eventually find himself releasing his films directly to iTunes.

For this inaugural edition of Vanishing Act, we set the wayback machine for the summer of 1999, when Blair Witch mania swept the nation. Unknown filmmakers Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez hit upon an ingenious plan for making the most of their microscopic budget, using the mockumentary format to not only justify their jittery digital images but to amp up the "you are there" horror of three amateur filmmakers encountering evil in the woods. The Blair Witch Project was also a pioneer in the realm of viral marketing, using the web to generate underground buzz over whether or not the film was "real." Its influence can be seen in two movies releasing this week: Teeth explicitly mentions Blair Witch in its TV ads, while Cloverfield appropriates both the shakycam immediacy and the viral approach.

When Blair Witch grossed an astonishing $140 million at the box office, it seemed that Myrick and Sanchez were sitting pretty. They had the good sense to steer clear of the stinkeroo sequel Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2, except as nominal executive producers. Their next announced collaboration, Heart of Love, was to be a complete change of pace, a screwball comedy described by Myrick in several interviews as "the most politically incorrect movie imaginable." Several web sites (now long defunct) were launched in hopes of recapturing the viral magic of their first collaboration, but the movie’s production was delayed over and over while the directors squabbled with distributor Artisan over Blair Witch profits and the project died quietly.

Despite their tiff with Artisan and mutual antipathy toward the failed Book of Shadows, Myrick and Sanchez toyed with making a Blair Witch prequel before finally going their separate ways. So what have they been up to lately?

This 2005 profile of Sanchez from the Baltimore City Paper finds him in pre-production on Probed, an “alien sci-fi horror monster movie” that was released straight to DVD as Altered in 2006. In a three-skull review (I think that’s a good thing), Fangoria.com notes that the effects-based set pieces are “a far cry from the psychological terrors of Blair Witch,” but that “Sanchez’s work on Altered shares with that previous film a keen sense of downward-spiral pacing.”

Myrick directed The Strand, which originally appeared as a series of webisodes about oddball characters on Venice Beach, CA, and Believers, a straight-to-video thriller about a dangerous cult. In this recent interview, Myrick discusses his new project The Objective, as well as the possibility of working with Sanchez again and maybe even reviving that Blair Witch prequel.

New Holiday Classics: Reindeer Games

Peter Smith — Mon, 10 Dec 2007 19:00:00 GMT

In his new memoir Born Standing Up, Steve Martin recalls that, back in the late ‘60s, he romanced the daughter of screenwriter Dalton Trumbo, until the director John Frankenheimer stole her from him while filming Trumbo's script for The Fixer. After mentioning that, two decades later, the director tried to seduce Victoria Tennant at a time when she was Martin's wife, Martin notes that "Frankenheimer died a few years ago, but it was not I who killed him." Unlikely though it may seem, John Frankenheimer actually did get a few movies directed when he wasn't concentrating on screwing with Steve Martin's love life. The 2000 Reindeer Games was his last film, and though not in the same league as his masterpiece The Manchurian Candidate, it's actually one of his live ones.

This thriller, from an original screenplay by plot-twist specialist Ehren Kruger, stars Ben Affleck as a prison inmate who's sort of a Cyrano de Bergerac in reverse; Ben's best pal in prison has been exchanging love letters with a young lady he's never met in the flesh, but when the pal is killed in the prison yard and Ben, after being released, meets the girl and she turns out to be Charlize Theron, he pretends to be the dead man. (This may sound like a bad idea, but remember that Entertainment Weekly has recently determined that Ben is only the fiftieth-smartest person in Hollywood.) Enter Theron's blue collar werewolf of a brother (Gary Sinise) and his posse of plug-uglies (Clarence Williams III, Donal Logue and Danny Trejo), who are under the mistaken impression that Ben used to work at the local casino and can help serve as tour director during their big Christmas Eve heist.

Reindeer Games is jerry-built on a switchback trail of reversals, revelations, and sputtered, improvised fake outs. It finally pushes its luck in its attempt to get one last twist in before the closing credits; we've read campaign literature from Lyndon LaRouche that makes more sense than this movie's last fifteen minutes. But up until then, this wintry, violent movie offers some good cheap thrills with its adrenaline overload. The cast of supporting baddies are as amusingly sleazy as any collection of movie lowlifes since Frankenheimer's 52 Pick-Up, which also featured Clarence Williams III looking very scary and completely out to lunch. It's a plot-driven movie, but with many diverting moments of local color, such as Danny Trejo thoughtfully laying out his plan to institute a second mid-summer Christmas season to boost the national economy, and Dennis Farina, as the stressed-out wiseguy in charge of the snowbound casino blasting away with a machine gun while calling out, "Hey, Santa, merry Christmas!" All this, plus the fiftieth-smartest guy in Hollywood takes several heavy blows to the face. Ho ho ho!

— Phil Nugent

Take Five: The Betrayal of the Body

Peter Smith — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 21:00:00 GMT

Julian Schnabel, who's proved to be a much more interesting film director than he was a painter, has caused quite a stir in France with his latest, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Opening in limited release this weekend, the film deals with a French fashion magazine editor who suffers a paralyzing stroke and is forced to communicate with the world — telling tales not only of his internal imprisonment, but also of his rich interior life — the only way he can: by blinking out the words with his left eyelid, the sole part of his body he can still control. The idea that the human body is as much a prison as a vehicle is as old as Shakespeare, and it's likewise yielded a number of fine films, particularly from directors who've had their own bodies betray them, or those of their loved ones. When the mind is still sharp but seems to exist solely as a captive of a body, without which it cannot survive, but to which it is frustratingly bound, some outstanding, if terribly depressing, dramatic situations can ensue. Here are five films dealing with the ways in which the mind can become a prisoner of the body — and the ways in which those minds seek escape.

JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN (1971)

For many decades, a number of prominent directors had sought permission to make a film of Dalton Trumbo's stunningly powerful anti-war novel. Trumbo (a longtime victim of Hollywood's anti-Communist blacklist) always refused, saying that only he could properly translate the novel — which deals with a WWI veteran who loses his arms, legs and face to an exploding shell and desperately seeks a way to communicate his rage at the futility of the loss to the world — to film. When he finally did, it was an odd effort, to say the least, but it featured many of the book's most essential themes and powerful scenes. (A remake, based on a recent stage adaptation, is currently in the works.)

THE FLY (1986)

David Cronenberg's films have a number of common threads, but if one attitude hovers above them all, it's the simultaneous attraction to and revulsion at the human body — its vitality as well as its decay. Although the theme is present in almost all of his movies, nowhere is it more purely realized than in his remake of The Fly, where scientist Seth Brundle's slow disintegration and dehumanization as he transforms into a monster is both subtly and explicitly compared to the progress of those suffering from deadly diseases like cancer and AIDS. In a number of the movie's most telling and memorable pieces of dialogue, the director's fascination with the body's potential and the horror at its easy disintegration are obvious.

MY LEFT FOOT (1989)

Christy Brown's childhood could have — should have — been a brief, sad nightmare. Born with crippling cerebral palsy, he was barely expected to live, let alone thrive. But his fiercely determined mother refused to believe that there wasn't a lively mind inside that shattered body, and kept at the young Irishman to grow and to think, until he eventually learned to read, to write, and to paint with the left foot of the title, his only working limb. Borne to lofty heights largely on the strength of a terrific performance as Brown by Daniel Day-Lewis, My Left Foot was the directorial debut of Jim Sheridan, who went on to make other well-received, Oscar-nominated films such as The Field, In the Name of the Father and In America before somehow landing at the helm of 50 Cent's vanity project, Get Rich or Die Tryin', after which he presumably died of shame.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME (1991)

Master documentarian Errol Morris wisely assumed that audiences wouldn't be entirely enthralled by a straightforward discussion of the heavy-duty astrophysics contained in scientist Stephen Hawking's book of the same name. So he wisely chose to focus as much on Hawking himself as on his theories; Hawking is an endlessly compelling figure; despite having developed Lou Gehrig's disease in his early twenties, which has confined him to a wheelchair and made him incapable of speech or all but the tiniest movements, he is widely considered a scientific genius on the level of Albert Einstein. Morris presents some of Hawking's theories and, like the book that gives his film its name, attempts to make them accessible to the causal viewer, but likewise presents the enigma of the man who made them and asks us to consider the power of a the mind that occupies that nearly useless body.

FRIDA (2002)

Julie Taymor's biopic of the notorious Mexican painter Frida Kahlo is plagued with problems — spotty performances, a suspect script and more hoary clichés than you can shake a paintbrush at. But it's visually inventive, well-framed, and as good a cinematic look as we're likely ever going to get at the singular Ms. Kahlo. The brilliant, temperamental Frida was involved, at a young age, in a horrific accident that left her scarred for life and in constant pain, and while she became a celebrity, a heroine, and a towering figure in the arts of her homeland, she was never able to escape the wounds, both physical and psychic, left to her by the trauma.

— Leonard Pierce