The Screengrab : saturday night fever

DVD Digest for May 5, 2009

Paul Clark — Tue, 05 May 2009 14:00:00 GMT

This week, the fifth and final Best Picture nominee from last year makes its DVD debut, and a whole lot of TV and Blu-Ray releases hit the market.

Recently, there was some uproar over the announcement that Criterion would be releasing David Fincher’s latest film, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, on DVD and Blu-Ray. Frankly, the naysayers sort of had a point- while Button is Fincher’s first stab at Oscar glory, it’s hardly the best-regarded film of his career, and it looked like Criterion was grabbing a big-ticket title in order to make some money to find its more esoteric efforts (such as last month’s Jean Painlevé box). But it turns out that we all underestimated Criterion- while the movie itself might be nothing special, the new 2-disc DVD is, boasting nearly three hours’ worth of documentaries on the making of the film, from on-the-set footage of Fincher at work to exhaustive features on the movie’s technical marvels. Paramount will also be releasing a film-only version as well, but if you really want to own this, the Criterion set is the way to go, and besides, if enough people buy the Criterion Button, maybe they’ll be persuaded to release some other Finchers as well. I for one long for a snazzy new version of The Game, but that’s just me…

Other recent releases coming to DVD this week include the Bollywood hit Chandni Chowk to China (Warner) and Azazel Jacobs’ priceless indie Momma’s Man (Kino).

The only notable classics release that’s on my radar this week is Mike Newell’s 1992 arthouse hit Enchanted April (Disney).

The week’s TV on DVD include: Spader and The Shat in Boston Legal Season 5 (Fox); the Daniel Defoe reworking Crusoe: The Complete Series (Universal); Gene Roddenberry’s Earth: The Final Conflict Season 1 (Paramount); the Candace Bushnell-penned Lipstick Jungle Season 2 (Universal); and the since-cancelled drama October Road Season 2 (Disney).

Finally, this week’s selection of Blu-Ray only releases has plenty of fun to help lead movie watchers into summer. We’ve got comedy- Big (Fox), There’s Something About Mary (Fox), Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (Paramount). We’ve got love stories- It Could Happen to You (Sony) and Roxanne (Sony). We’ve even got a double dose of dancing Travolta, with Grease (Paramount) and Saturday Night Fever (Paramount). Or if none of these does it for you, there’s always Michael C. Hall as everyone’s favorite serial-killer-hunting serial killer in Dexter Season 2 (Paramount).

In Other Blogs: Festivus!

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 15:30:00 GMT

At Beyond the Multiplex, Andrew O’Hehir previews the New York Film Festival. “Like any institution closely identified with New York City -- the Yankees, the Times, the Metropolitan Museum, the scum-sucking financial establishment that has ruined all of our lives and our children's as well -- the New York Film Festival makes a pretty easy target for crusading anti-elitists of all stripes…What's far more interesting about the NYFF after all this time is that it remains remarkably successful at its self-assigned mission, anachronistic and undemocratic as that may appear. In programming relatively few features (28 this year) -- most of them drawn from the major European festivals in Berlin, Cannes and Venice -- and in insisting on a pre-pop-culture vision of cinema as an art form, festival director Richard Peña and his staff have, perversely enough, proven to be shrewd table-setters for the fall film marketplace.”

Erstwhile Screengrabber Mike D’Angelo already has a page of NYFF reviews up, and it sounds like you can scratch Tony Manero off your list. “For those not temperamentally inclined to celebrate uncompromising cine-machismo for its own sake, however, this is pretty thin gruel, deeply unpleasant without ever coming within spitting distance of enlightening. Once you've been startled by Raúl assisting an old woman home and then unexpectedly pummeling her to death for her TV set, and then seen him pawn the TV in order to fund a replica of the multicolored Saturday Night Fever dance floor, you're good to go, literally -- everything that follows is more of the same. American Psycho didn't really work as a movie, but at least Bret Easton Ellis had a coherent idea, in that you can readily see the connection between '80s materialism, Bateman's sadistic violence and the transformation of Genesis into a Phil Collins solo act. How exactly does living under Pinochet translate to disco fever? Why are we watching Tony Manero and not, say, Roy Neary or Luke Skywalker?”

Also weighing in on NYFF is Vadim Rizov at The House Next Door, who finds Gomorrah comes up wanting when compared to our favorite TV show. “The problem with Gomorrah is that it could start and end anywhere. The Wire runs full arcs, tying social problems to well-developed characters; the war never ends, but the characters move on. Gomorrah is representative types running through a loop: today's Scarface-emulating young sociopaths are tomorrow's dead meat, but there'll always be someone to replace them. All five stories in Gomorrah's hydra-headed monster have rough conclusions, but anyone expecting a movie about mob life to end in any kind of upbeat fashion a) needs to watch more movies b) needs, indeed, to read up a bit more. Gomorrah is exactly what I thought it would be, which means there's no surprises.”

Dazed and Confused and Waking Life star Wiley Wiggins was a regular fixture around Fantastic Fest, and as this entry at his blog It’s Not For Everyone shows, he’s down with the Ozsploitation. “Brian Trenchard-Smith, fresh from his appearance in Not Quite Hollywood, introduced and answered questions about one of his very early films, The Man From Hong Kong. As one might expect from an Australian Kung Fu movie, the driving sequences are better than the fight sequences, and the main car chase in the. Movie is actually one of the most impressive filmed, mainly for the demolition-derby ferocity with which the cars slam into one another and a sureness in the photography and editing during the chase. The acting and plotting are the most memorable when they flirt with self parody. The movie was a lot of fun, but pales in comparison to some of Trenchard-Smith's crazier films.”

And in List-o-Mania this week, Filmbrain features Lost in the Sixties and Seventies: A Dozen I'd Kill to See. At number four is the 1971 obscurity You've Got to Walk It Like You Talk It or You'll Lose That Beat. “Easily the holiest of grails on the list, this is a film I originally heard about back in the early 80s, but only recently confirmed that it does indeed truly exist. Dig this: an anarchic anti-establishment comedy that skewers then-contemporary mores that stars Zalman King (yes, that one) as a young man trying to find his way in New York City. Add to that a cast that includes Allen Garfield, Richard Pryor, and Roz Kelly (Happy Days' Pinky Tuscadero), and features music by Steely Dan's Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. Oh yes, Wes Craven worked on the film as well. I have never met a single soul who can honestly claim to have seen this film, so if you have, please do speak up!”

Tom Cruise Still Creepy, Still Not Funny

Scott Von Doviak — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Aside from the controversies over Robert Downey, Jr. in blackface and the use of the word "retard," the big pre-release buzz about Tropic Thunder had Tom Cruise revitalizing both his career and his public image with his hilarious turn as foul-mouthed studio mogul Les Grossman. That said buzz originated with Team Cruise has never been doubted by me, but the entertainment media has been only too happy to nudge it along. It's good for business, after all; everyone loves a redemption story, particularly one that humanizes what has been a cold, calculating persona for some time. Tom Cruise with a paunch and bald wig? He has no vanity! He's ready to let loose and have some fun! He really doesn't take himself so seriously after all. That's the narrative we've had rammed down our throats, but is there any truth to it? Let's find out after the jump, but be warned, minor Tropic Thunder spoilers may ensue.

So here's the deal: Cruise has maybe ten minutes of screen time as bald, bearded, bespectacled blowhard Grossman. Despite the prosthetics, which include huge hairy forearms as well as the chrome dome and pronounced (but not too pronounced) belly, Cruise does not exactly disappear into the role - he's recognizably Cruise all the way. The nose knows, and besides, he doesn't even do a voice. Conveniently, for him as well as the movie's marketing team, he gets to have it both ways. He's having fun and doing an "outrageous" character, but there's never a moment we feel like we're watching an outrageous character - it's clearly Tom Cruise Industries up there on the screen.

In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd think director, co-writer and co-star Ben Stiller was having a little fun at Cruise's expense. After all, right here in the same movie we have Robert Downey, Jr. as a pompous, self-absorbed genius actor who undergoes an experimental process to appear African-American in the movie-within-the-movie. (Of course, since Downey actually is a talented actor, he disappears into both the role of Australian thespian Kirk Lazarus and that of platoon sergeant Osirus.) And we also have Jack Black as a desperate comic actor who dons a variety of fakey prosthetics for his multiple roles in The Fatties, Fart 2.

The joke is on somebody here, but I don't think it's Cruise, since he's buddies with Stiller, who actually thinks Cruise is funny - or at least that's what he told Entertainment Weekly. Unless I'm forgetting something, the last time Cruise made me laugh since Risky Business was his Scientology recruitment video leaked onto YouTube earlier this year - and that was the sort of nervous laughter I usually reserve for Charles Manson interviews. By my count, Cruise is the 12th funniest person in the movie, behind Downey, Stiller, Black, Danny McBride, Steve Coogan, Brandon T. Jackson, Bill Hader, Jay Baruchel, Matthew McConaughey, a kid playing a Vietnamese heroin mule, and even Nick Nolte, not generally regarded as one of our foremost humorists.

Cruise dances in character over the end credits, and we are reminded of Hollywood's second most famous Scientologist, John Travolta, and how his career revival in Pulp Fiction included a dance scene that echoed fond memories of Grease and Saturday Night Fever. Here I guess we're supposed to flash back to Cruise dancing in his underwear in Risky Business and remember why we used to love him. Honestly, I was more creeped out than amused. How hard would it have been for Stiller to find an actual bald, hairy fat fuck for this role? Jon Polito would have killed, or James Gandolfini. I mean, wasn't that the point of the Downey character - that it's probably a good idea to hire an actual black actor than an Australian in blackface? Instead it's just the latest chapter in the Tom Cruise psychodrama - the extended version of jumping on Oprah's couch.

Related:
Tom Cruise Parodies Someone Else for a Change
Citizen Cruise

Summer of ’78: “Thank God It’s Friday”

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 22 May 2008 16:00:00 GMT

Because I have lost my mind, I am launching yet another new Screengrab feature today, this one called – as you may have gathered – “Summer of ’78.” The premise is simple: each week this summer we will jump back in time 30 years to check out a flick that was new and exciting in theaters that week in 1978. This isn’t necessarily about the biggest hits or biggest bombs, or the best or worst movies; it’s more about examining what was considered suitable summer entertainment then and how it compares to today’s blockbuster fare. I’m sure we’ll all learn something, right? Hello? Is this thing on?

What better way to kick off the series than with the most beloved disco comedy ever made, with the possible exceptions of Can’t Stop the Music and Summer of Sam?

Thank God It’s Friday

Release Date: May 19, 1978

Cast: Jeff Goldblum, Terri Nunn, Chick Vennera, Donna Summer, Debra Winger and The Commodores

The Buzz: Saturday Night Fever was a huge hit. Add some laughs, substitute Jeff Goldblum for John Travolta, and what could go wrong?

Keywords: Discotheque, Gorilla Suit, Pinball, Leather, Dance Contest

The Plot: The hard-working stiffs of Los Angeles are living for Friday night, when they can finally cut loose on the dance floor of the Zoo, the hottest disco in town. DJ Bobby Speed has promised a live appearance by the Commodores in time for the big dance contest, but their instruments and equipment are with roadie Floyd, who keeps getting pulled over by the cops. Aspiring singer Nicole (Summer) just wants a chance to show off her pipes. Zoo owner Tony Di Marco (Goldblum) is a horndog trying to lure a married woman into the sack on her fifth anniversary. The rest of the Zoo is filled with lonely people in polyester looking for love or just looking to score.

The Test of Time: The ensemble cast, up-all-night party movie is one of my favorite genres, but Thank God It’s Friday is a pretty weak example. It plays like an extended episode of some 70s sitcom you’d forgotten about, set to a monotonous dance beat. It’s the most whitebread depiction of the disco craze imaginable; the only black people in the joint are the entertainment, and there’s virtually no gay presence at all aside from one mild joke and the recurring sight gag of a cross-dresser shaving his chest. If this movie were the only surviving artifact of the era, you’d have to assume disco was a predominantly Jewish phenomenon. The music is generally lame soundtrack album filler, aside from “Brick House” and the Donna Summer showstopper “Last Dance” (the reason you can accurately call Thank God It’s Friday an Academy Award winner). The cast is forgettable and forgotten, except for Goldblum and one girl who caught my attention by actually resembling a flesh-and-blood human being. Checking the credits later, it turned out she was Debra Winger. I wonder what ever happened to her?

Quotable Quote: “You know what this place reminds me of? Disneyland with tits!”

2008 Equivalent: If we’re talking dance-offs, the recent Step Up 2 The Streets fits the bill. If the question is which summer movie will look the most dated in 30 years, it has to be Speed Racer, right?

New York Magazine Picks the New Yorkiest Movies Since 1968

Phil Nugent — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 15:00:00 GMT

To celebrate its fortieth anniversary, New York magazine has set its writers to assemble a "canon" of cultural works (books, music, TV, movies) from the last forty years that "capture something emblematic about New York." This, as David Edelstein's list of movies makes clear, isn't necessarily about selecting the best, nor is it limited to movies made by New Yorkers in New York: El Topo is here, for its role in creating that urban institution, the midnight movie. (By a felicitous quirk of timing, the first title on the list is Planet of the Apes with Charlton Heston, for its indelible closing image of the Statue of the Liberty after a wild weekend.) Also cited: Mean Streets, The Godfather, Part II, Taxi Driver, Dog Day Afternoon, Death Wish, The French Connection, Shaft, Deep Throat, Annie Hall, Saturday Night Fever, Tootsie, Wild Style, My Dinner with Andre, Stranger Than Paradise, and Wall Street.

Edelstein sort of half-apologizes for having picked so many movies from the 1970s, but how could it be otherwise? It was in the seventies that Hollywood declared studio lots passe and invaded the city with film crews, which were often manned by smart-ass native New Yorkers like Sidney Lumet, Paul Mazursky, and Brian De Palma, whose sensibilities came through so strongly that thet sometimes seemed to be making a "New York movie" even when they weren't. The American movie renaissance of the seventies is inextricably tied up with the breakdown of "the ungovernable city" in the same period; at the same time that the country at large was so attuned to the virtues associated with New York that Woody Allen could emerge as a sex symbol, the city went bankrupt and all but imploded, and the movies were here to record that. Movies as great as Scorsese's early features and as klutzy as Shaft all double as time capsules that tap into the urban chaos and make it look exciting, which is why there are people now who are nostalgic for the "good, old" (pre-Disneyfied) Times Square of hookers, three-card monte, and garbage-strewn streets. Movies don't feel as if they have that kind of combined impact anymore, though one movie that tried hard was Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing, which both Edelstein and Lee credit with helping to drive Ed Koch from office. In an accompanying Q & A, Lee appears to also take credit for hooking up Barack and Michelle Obama, since "Barack told me the first date he took Michelle to was Do the Right Thing. I said, 'Thank God I made it.'" Timing is everything. If they'd met a year earlier or a year later, and he'd taken her to School Daze or Mo' Better Blues, she might have gone right home and changed her phone number.

Trailer Review: Meet Dave

Paul Clark — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 16:00:00 GMT

It's a pretty hard and fast rule that if a trailer includes a bit of the hero strutting down the street to "Staying Alive" and movie being advertised isn't Saturday Night Fever, the movie is almost certain to be terrible. But then, why should we expect any more from Eddie Murphy? It's sad to see what's happened to the guy- Murphy was as funny as anyone ever was on SNL, but he has an spooky talent for gravitating toward crap that, given his popularity, he should have the clout to avoid. The premise for Meet Dave had real potential, but if the trailer is any clue then it's merely one bit of forced schtick after another. Even the title reeks of dumbing-down, as the movie was originally called Starship Dave until it was decided that the audience couldn't handle multisyllabic words. About the best thing I can say is that Murphy doesn't appear to engage in any ethnic humor here, unless of course he's the one made up to look like Elizabeth Banks. A possibility which, truth be told, I wouldn't rule out at this point. It would certainly explain the character's attraction to Murphy, come to think of it.

Academy to Greenwood: Return That Tux

Paul Clark — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 00:45:00 GMT

The writers' strike may still be in full swing, but the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is operating like it's business as usual. The shortlist for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar was unveiled last week, the nominations are set to announce tomorrow, and even now the Academy powers that be are making disqualifications on questionable grounds.

The latest victim of an Academy ruling is perhaps the most feted score of 2007: Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood's work on There Will Be Blood. According to Variety's Awards Central, the Academy's music branch has ruled Greenwood ineligible for an Oscar under a rule that excludes "scores diluted by the use of tracked themes or other pre-existing music." In addition to 35 minutes of wholly original music, the score to There Will Be Blood featured 46 minutes of pre-existing music (Brahms, Arvo Part, sacred music) and roughly 15 minutes of Greenwood's 2006 composition "Popcorn Superhet Receiver."

While the producers of There Will Be Blood accept the Academy's decision, fans of the film are outraged, citing Gustavo Santaolalla's somewhat less-than-original score to Babel which took home the Oscar just last year. But I think the bigger issue is that the art of the original score just wasn't what it used to be.

In the early years of the Oscars, practically every Hollywood film had an original score, with only the occasional use of pre-existing music. But in the intervening years, especially since the rise of rock'n'roll, more filmmakers have peppered their soundtracks with pre-existing tracks, which when they're effectively used can provide a different flavor you can't get from an old-fashioned orchestral score. Think of it this way- can you imagine a young John Travolta strutting down the street swinging a paint can while sweeping strings play behind him? Not the same.

Of course, the purpose of the Academy Awards is to honor people, not to single out intangible cinematic contributions. In other words, if there was an award for "best combination score," who'd take home a prize? The composer? The director? The soundtrack producer? If nothing else, the ruling over Greenwood's score underlines the limits of giving awards for individual work. In the end, a single person's contribution to a movie is less important than the collective effort made by everyone involved. It takes more than one person to make great cinema, and to honor movies strictly for their component parts is to lose sight of the bigger picture.

Take Five: Days of the Week

Leonard Pierce — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 22:00:00 GMT

Opening wide this Friday is David E. Talbert's First Sunday, which should represent the final nail in a coffin which contains the mouldering remains of Ice Cube's reputation as an American nightmare. Younger Screengrab readers may not realize this, but Cube was once a rapper who so terrified white America that they put him on the cover of national news magazines, where he sneered and scowled his way right into your scaredy-bones. Now he just makes comedies that Steve Martin is too busy to bother with. Anyway, Talbert is being claimed as the new Tyler Perry, which, depending on your inclinations, is either a refreshing change or a dire threat. We were sort of hoping that First Sunday would function as a pseudo-sequel to the Friday films and would, at the very least, treat us to the spectacle of Cube and Katt Williams having to sit through a really long, dull sermon while stoned out of their gourds, which is an experience we've all had at one time or another. Unfortunately, it's no such thing, so here's some other movies you can look forward to after this endless Sunday is over.

STORMY MONDAY (1988)

Back before Mike Figgis hit it big, he directed this quirky little neo-noir thriller. It hasn't proven to be one of his lasting legacies as a filmmaker; for everything it does right, it goofs up in some profound way that nearly sinks it — its plot is pretty thin even by the standards of such potboilers, and two fine lead performances by British actors (Sting and a young Sean Bean) are clumsily countered by two dopey ones by American actors (an ultra-hammy Tommy Lee Jones and Melanie Griffith, clearly letting the clock run down on her fifteen minutes of fame). That said, it's worth watching for two reasons: first, it gives you an important stepping point in the development of Figgis' career, should you be interested in pursuing such a thing; and second, it's crazily gorgeous to look at. It features some nearly perfect cinematography by the estimable Roger Deakins, all rain-slicked streets and cheap neon and hazes of cigarette smoke and shadows that people fall into and never emerge. It's all surface; you'll find no depth here no matter how hard you look. But if surface is all you're looking for, you could do a lot worse than Stormy Monday.

IF IT'S TUESDAY THIS MUST BE BELGIUM (1969)

Movies like this must have seemed like such a good idea in the Sixties. Get an all-star cast, or at least as much of an all-star cast as you can afford. Have them rampage around a picturesque collection of back-lot set pieces mixed with stock footage. Stick Norman Fell in there looking pasty and irritated, then stick an unwieldy, ridiculous title on the thing and watch the money roll in. It's not quite clear exactly when Americans lost their patience for this particular brand of witless comedy, but I think it was right around the time this movie came out, which just so happened to coincide with the time at which it became acceptable to talk about smoking marijuana. Still, it's not entirely without its charm; Suzanne Pleshette makes a vivacious lead, Sandy Baron has some amusing scenes, Murray Hamilton reminds us that he once existed, and you get a fun look at what Hollywood thought of Ian McShane before it discovered how good he was at cussing like a sailor who's just had an anchor drop on his foot. It plays even better if you pretend that it was made in 1959 instead of 1969.

BIG WEDNESDAY (1978)

Highly influenced by The Endless Summer and a rash of other surfing documentaries that had hit the screens in the 1960s, Big Wednesday takes a similar visual approach and a comparable 'surfing as metaphor for nascent mystics communing with nature ' storyline, but wraps it all up in a big mushy box of coming-of-age drama by writer/director John Milius, who had not yet discovered that the one thing he loved even more than surfing was killing communists. Based loosely on his own southern California teenhood, Big Wednesday is actually a pretty accomplished film for what it is, but it really soars on the strength of what today seems like an incredibly goofball cast: shirtless, bronzed, toned young beachcombers portrayed by...future acid casualty Gary Busey, future heroin junkie Jan-Michael Vincent, and future Greatest American Hero William Katt. Patti D'Arbanville wanders through there as well, as does a woefully out-of-place Joe Spinnell as Busey's shrink. All in all, not a bad little movie, but one that's highly improved if you're in a Gary Busey state of mind when you watch it.

THURSDAY AFTERNOON (1984)

Right around the time that MTV was robbing us all of our ability to process visual information that didn't come with cuts every fifteen seconds, avant-garde composer, musician, and filmmaker Brian Eno offered a refreshing, if highly unusual, tonic in the form of Thursday Afternoon. Essentially a series of eight nearly motionless "video paintings", Thursday Afternoon was meant to be viewed in a vertical format; the video packaging actually instructed viewers to upend their television sets. Whether anyone actually did that or not, the video was an interesting exercise in changing the video shorthand that accompanies music on screen. Accompanied by music that is highly suggestive of his 'ambient' period circa Music for Airports, the videos bring us nearly static images (of nature scenes, shifting electronic displays, and fashion model Christine Alicino, also the film's cinematographer), and manage to accomplish visually precisely the effect that Eno was going after musically with that ambient work. It may not be the most compelling thing ever set to video, but it's a lot better conversation-starter than your iTunes Visualizer at a party.

SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER (1977)

So iconic is John Badham's 1977 disco document that it's easy to overlook what a colossal impact it made at the time it was released. John Travolta became such a huge star following its box-office-busting run that his fall from grace seemed inevitable and his comeback seemed incredible; with the benefit of hindsight, one might be forgiven for thinking he was the only person in the movie as none of the other actors went on to even remotely the same level of fame. Badham, likewise, never made a film as good as this, or as successful. Endlessly parodied, riffed on and exploited, it's the kind of movie that even if you've never seen it, you feel like you've seen it. It really went off the rails early on; it's impossible to guess from the final product, but it was actually based on an edgy, almost scholarly piece of cultural studies by the brilliant English polymath Nik Cohn called "Tribal Rituals of the New Saturday Night". Still, a few of its dance scenes, its relentless energy, and Tony Manero's slow, arrogant strut through Brooklyn have lost none of their power, and make it clear why this movie meant to its time and place what it did.