FIRST DRAFT

I am not making this up

The Guardian has been all over the Cannes Film Festival this week. Today's coverage included an interweb slide show thingee of the worst movies on the market at this year's cinematic shebang. This is by far and away the most outlandish:

 

I hunted down the trailer and learned that it's played for laughs but OMG. Barry Bostwick is a fellow graduate of San Mateo High School. I wonder if we can have his diploma rescinded. Probably not. Anyway, here's the trailer:

 

Sunday Morning Video: Trekkies

I still have Star Trek on my mind. I stumbled into this documentary on cable the other day and watched it again. The fans are a bit nutty but also pretty darn intelligent, just like my readers. My favorite is the woman who is devoted to Data from TNG and calls herself a Spinerfem. Now, that's a suffix I can get behind:

 

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: The Lady From Shanghai

This was one of the last times Orson Welles directed a picture at a major Hollywood studio. It's a good one, but the stories surrounding it are better than the movie itself. Orson royally pissed off Columbia Studio goniff Harry Cohn by getting Rita Hayworth to cut her hair short and dye it blond. Rita had already changed hair color from brunette to red BUT she was famous for her flowing locks. Cohn essentially blackballed Orson, which wasn't hard to do but this may have been the last nail in his career coffin.

The first image is the poster, which is kinda mundane. The lobby card is special: from the Fun House scene filmed at Playland on the Beach in San Francisco. I have fond childhood memories of it but that's all I got. it was torn down years ago.

Here's the trailer:

 

Sunday Morning Video: Gun Crazy

Since it's gunfest weekend, here's an appropriately titled low budget classic film noir from 1950:

 

While I'm at it, here's the lobby card:

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Planet Of The Apes

I'd like to thank Matthew Weiner and the Mad Men writing staff for making this week's choice such an easy one. I am, however, horrified that they gave away the ending. Goddamn them...

 

Here's the trailer:

 

What would Jerry Maguire think?

It's a pity that Cameron Crowe hasn't made a good film in years. Say Anything, Almost Famous, and Jerry Maguire are 3 of the best films of our time. I thought of CamCro when I read this item about Geno Smith firing his agent:

West Virginia quarterback Geno Smith's fall out of the first-round of the 2013 NFL draft has claimed its first casualty as Liz Mullen of the SportsBusiness Journal reports that the rookie quarterback is parting ways with his agents, Jeff Nalley of the Houston-based Select Sports Group.

Smith accepted an invitation to attend the draft and was in the green room at Radio City Music Hall for most of the first-round. However, when the first-round reached the final few picks, and those picks were held by teams that have no need for a quarterback, Smith left the building as it was evident he would not be selected until Day 2.

ESPN's Suzy Kolber reported that Smith was not going to attend Day 2 of the draft, but Smith changed his mind and returned to Radio City Music Hall on Friday. Smith was selected by the  New York Jets with the eighth pick in Round 2, the 39th overall pick in the draft, which is expected come with a contract worth just under $5 million with over $3.1 million in guaranteed money. Had Smith been selected in Round 1, his contract would be worth, at minimum, $6.7 million with around $5.4 million in guaranteed money.

The financial difference, as well as having to return to a green room for a second day, appear to be the reason why Smith is changing agents.

According to Manish Mehta of the New York Daily News, Smith was under the impression that he should be and would be the No. 1 overall pick of the draft. It is understandable for Smith to be disappointed about not being a first-round pick, but unless he was specifically being told by his agents that he would go No. 1, we're not sure how they are at fault for his tumble out of Round 1.

Obviously, Nalley screwed up by not doing this:

  

Or he could have tried the old I am a golden God gambit:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: The Black Cat

Since it's kitty week here at First Draft, I give you Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff:

 Here's the trailer:

 

Tramp The Dirt Down

Hatred can be like rocket fuel for an artist. Margaret Thatcher inspired many fantastic films, plays, books and songs. The Guardian has a fine article by John Harris about how Thatcherism politicized the arts in the UK. Plus, the always awesome Mary Elizabeth Williams has a piece at Salon on Mrs. Thatcher and pop culture.But my personal favorite, Brassed Off. was not on her movie list. Oh well, nobody's perfect...

I'm going to feature some of the best anti-Thatcher, anti-Tory tunes this week as a sort of reverse hommage to Mrs. Thatcher. The good news is that she's no longer here to handbag me...

The first in the Thatcher series is one of the best. Elvis Costello's Tramp The Dirt Down from his classic Spike album. I stumbled upon this version, which opens with a brief rant by Elvis/Declan, on my friend Luke's facebook feed. Luke is a labor laywer and fellow lefty Anglophile who I met in London some 6 years ago. End of this brief stroll down memory lane. Here's Mr. Costello/MacManus:

 

Roger Ebert, R.I.P.

I'm the de facto obituary guy here at First Draft. I usually post when someone I admire passes away and sometimes I'm genuinely upset. Writing about Roger Ebert's death today at the age of 70 fits into the latter category. 

I first heard of Roger when his PBS film review show with the late Gene Siskel launched in the 1970's. I don't think I missed many episodes through its different permutations and names over the years. I enjoyed watching the sweater boys duke it out, and I usually agreed with Roger, If I had a dollar for every time I watched an obscure film recommended by Roger I wouldn't be rich, but I'd be more solvent.

Roger was also a superb writer. Take a peak at his Sun-Times web site and ready away. I'm particularly fond of his great movies series. He made film criticism come alive, and he was never pedantic or preachy. My favorite thing about his style as a reviewer is that he never reviewed the fillm he wished they had made instead writing about the one that they did make. That's one thing about critics that drives me crazy, and lots of them do it, including, I daresay, his partner and frenemy Gene Siskel.

Roger had been horribly ill for many years but he soldiered on, writing about movies, and even starting his own blog. I traded the odd email and twitter direct message with Roger over the years and the man was even kind to me. Talk about tolerant. He was aware of First Draft and even read it from time-to-time. Why I never humblebragged about that, I'll never know but I didn't. So it goes.

Just 2 days ago, he announced what he called a "leave of presence" from daily criticism. I'm unsure as to whether he knew that he would die this soon but I considered starting a RIP post  that day, but didn't because it struck me as ghoulish when instead it proved to be sadly prescient. Roger Ebert was a great film critic and an even better man. He'll be greatly missed by film buffs everywhere; especially this one. Here's a passage from the aforementioned 4-2-2013 post:

Thank you. Forty-six years ago on April 3, 1967, I became the film critic for the Chicago Sun-Times. Some of you have read my reviews and columns and even written to me since that time. Others were introduced to my film criticism through the television show, my books, the website, the film festival, or the Ebert Club and newsletter.  However you came to know me, I'm glad you did and thank you for being the best readers any film critic could ask for.

Typically, I write over 200 reviews a year for the Sun-Times that are carried by Universal Press Syndicate in some 200 newspapers. Last year, I wrote the most of my career, including 306 movie reviews, a blog post or two a week, and assorted other articles. I must slow down now, which is why I'm taking what I like to call "a leave of presence."

What in the world is a leave of presence? It means I am not going away. My intent is to continue to write selected reviews but to leave the rest to a talented team of writers handpicked and greatly admired by me. What's more, I'll be able at last to do what I've always fantasized about doing: reviewing only the movies I want to review.

Thank you, Roger. If there *is* an after-life, I hope you and Siskel are back at it, talking movies and trading genial insults. Thumbs up to that, but thumbs down to your passing.

The balcony is closed.

Pulp Fiction Thursday: I Married A Communist

Since Ted Cuz seems bound and determined (he should be bound and gagged instead) to single-handedly revive McCarthyism, it strikes me as a good time to to bring the red scare to PFT. I've posted a lot of trashy covers of crappy books but most of the films I've talked about are good 'uns. There is an exception to every rule and I Married A Communist is one of them. Despite featuring the always awesome Robert Ryan, it's a real stinker that has nothing to do with the fine Philip Roth novel of the same title.

Check out the lobby card and decide if you'd rather be dead than red or vice versa:

In spite of the red scare, the title made the film unpopular with audiences and theatre owners alike so it was re-titled, The Woman On Pier 13 but either way it was from hunger. Here's the trailer:

 

Quote of the day: 3D edition

It comes from the great film director Danny Boyle:

"I don't use 3D, I'm a spectacle wearer, so I hate going to 3D movies because you have to wear two pairs of spectacles, which makes you feel like even more of a prat. You know how everybody feels a bit of prat wearing 3D spectacles? You as a spectacle wearer feel a double prat."

Headline of the day

It comes from Roger Ebert's review of David Mamet's Spector starring Al Pacino as the "wall-of-sound" producer turned convicted murderer:

The long unwinding Phil: Trouble Deep, Hairdo High

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Freaks

I first saw Tod Browning's Freaks when I was a mere lad in a rather odd movie theatre. It was a converted apartment building on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. We literally sat in someone's former living room and watched the film on a small screen. I was still mesmerized.

Freaks was condemned in its time as exploitative since the sideshow was on its way out as a form of semi-mainstream entertainment. But the monsters are the "normal" people who mock and manipulate the freaks until the latter rise against them.

It is also a period piece. You do not see these folks around nowadays due to advances in science and pre-natal care. Of course, there was a freak show last weekend in the DC burbs so maybe that comment was, uh, premature.

In the end, Freaks is an effective early talking picture parts of which will send chills up your spine. It, alas, more or less destroyed the career of director Tod Browning since it was released by MGM, which was the high gloss, low calorie studio of the day, and this was a big budget bust. He was a major director who was then relegated to programmers and low budget fare before his career faded out a mere 7 years later.

Here's the trailer:

 

Minority Report

This is about a movie but not Steven Spielberg's fine 2002 sci-fi flick, Minority Report. (If you haven't seen it, check it out, it's got a BSG kinda vibe.) Instead, I'm talking about Sam Raimi's new film, Oz the Great and Powerful. Audiences have flocked to it but the critics have been lukewarm. A critic I admire, David Edelstien of New York Magazine saw a different flick to the one Dr. A and I saw. He called it "peculiarly joyless" whereas I thought it was spot on and charming as all get out.

There were technical diffculties at our screening so we actually changed theatres at the multi-plex and saw the first hour twice. It made me appreciate the much maligned performance by James Franco. Yes, he was detached and a bit arch BUT he was playing a self-described Carny trickster for chrissake and they are not known for their earnestness. I'm not really much of a Franco fan (he's supposedly a horrible neighbor too) but I enjoyed his performance and Rachel Weisz, Mila Kunis, and Michelle Williams were to die for.

I realize that people are very protective of the Wizard of Oz. I am too. The original evokes great memories from my childhood and still holds up very well indeed. Yip Harburg's lyrics also had a lot to do with making me a horrid punster. Is the new film as good? Maybe not but it benefits from being very different since it's about the time *before* Dorothy and Toto too landed in Oz.

The vice of many of the reviews is one that always bugs the living shit out of me: the whole "this is the movie they should have made" shtick. I, for one, was pleased that Raimi didn't make it into a musical or bring back most of the characters we know and love from the 1939 film. The film should stand and fall on it's own merits and I had a very good time at the movies despite covertly pining for the lollipop guild.

The Real Face Of The Talking Filibuster

Senator Aqua Buddha has spent much of today conducting an old fashioned talking filibuster in the Senate chamber. While I prefer an open display of filiblathering to the cloak room kind more typical of the Lott-McConnell years in the Senate, I have a request: enough with the Mr. Smith Goes To Washington references.

I realize that cameras came to the Senate fairly recently so there's not a lot of  footage to show on teevee but the true face of the classic filibuster is this:

 

That's right, the real-as opposed to reel-face of the filibuster belongs to the arch-segregationist and disgustingly racist Senator Strom Thurmond of South Carolina. Thurmond, of course, ran for President as a Dixiecrat in 1948, was a pioneer Southern Republican and never stopped calling black folks "nigras" during his lifetime.Thurmond also holds the land speed record for the longest filibuster in Senate history: 24 hours and 18 minutes against the weak and watered down 1957 Civil Rights Act. Unless, that is, Senator Aqua Buddha breaks the old mark some 56 years later.

In the so-called "good old days of bipartisanship" it was Southern segregationists who used the talking filibuster as their main weapon against progressive legislation, not "noble" crusaders such as the fictional Senator Smith.

Additionally, as a film buff, I wonder how many people are aware of the bizarre political lineage of Mr. Smith Goes To Washington. Its star, Jimmy Stewart, was an ultra-conservative Republican who was well known for being "uncomfortable" around black folks. Its director, Frank Capra, was an ultra-conservative Republican in faux populist drag who was later blacklisted and became a friendly witness during the red scare. The film was written by Sidney Buchman who was a Communist who joined Capra on the blacklist but at least he was an actual scary red.

I haven't ranted here in awhile and that felt good. So, please, I'm begging you: retire the Mr. Smith references and I promise not to mention Frank Capra's uber reactionary politics again. Btw, his memoirs, The Name Above The Title was one of the best novels of the 1970's. He really knew how to sell that phony man of the people shtick. I ought to know: I bought it for many years until I read Joseph McBride's brilliant biography, Frank Capra: The Catastrophe Of Success. It's a must read tome, y'all.

That is all.

Holy mixed metaphor, Batman

President Obama's geek cred is on the wane after he said this earlier today:

"Even though most people agree that I'm being reasonable; that most people agree I'm presenting a fair deal; the fact they don't take it means I should somehow do a Jedi mind meld with these folks and convince them to do what's right."

Uh, Mr. President there's a Vulcan mind meld and there are Jedi mind tricks. One is Star Trek, the other is Star Wars but the trekkies got there first. The Tweeter Tube is, quite predictably, going bonkers right now since they've finally gotten over Seth MacFarlane, and have moved on to the latest hive mind snark fest like rabid Borg bjorn again...

The Prez needs to call JJ Abrams immediately to serve as his bridge between these diverse nerdly kingdoms. I'm more of a Trekker myself but I can imagine all the mixed sci-fi imagery we'll be subjected to when the BSG, Babylon 5 and even Lost In Space fans start chiming in.

Make it so, Dr. Smith, and so say we all that resistance is futile.

I could go on all day like this but y'all have done nothing to deserve that. Plus, I don't want to end up in Deep Shit 9 since our editrix is on her way home to Ferret central...

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Odds Against Tomorrow

Odds Against Tomorrow is a beautifully shot and well acted late period film noir from 1959.  It's a combination caper/social commentary flick produced by star Harry Belafonte. It features yet another skilled variation on Robert Ryan's villainous shtick as a racist sociopath. It's director Robert Wise's last edgy indie film before he went over to the mainstream dark side and directed <sigh> The Sound Of Music among others. Wise pulled out all the stops here and delivered a helluva film before donning lederhosen...

The movie is based on a pretty darn good pulp novel by William P. McGivern:

Here are 2 lobby card variations. One of them is kind of blurry but it's a great image so what's a bit of blurriness among friends?

 

Here's the trailer, which gets the release date wrong:

 

The Sound Of Music Effect?

It is still news of the weird time here at First Draft. This odd info was cribbed from a column by one of my favorite writers at the Guardian, Simon Hoggart:

We have friends from our days in Washington who have always been involved in foreign affairs and diplomacy. They have long experience, and would like some more – perhaps by his becoming an ambassador. The most desired posts – London, Paris, Beijing, Tokyo, etc – are out of reach because they always go to the big fundraisers, usually with a career diplomat at their elbow telling them what to do. Our friends would be happy with something quite modest. But they are in competition with hundreds, perhaps thousands of others. And the process is incredibly lengthy and complicated. A single ill-wisher in the state department or the White House can ruin your chances. Even having a close chum in a position of power does not necessarily help. Some time ago, the wife reported: "We were on track for a multilateral position in Vienna, till we received a call from our best friend in White House personnel. Things could go sideways for us. Why? Because The Sound Of Music had just been shown on network TV, leading to 'a new surge of interest in Austria'."

I am legendary for my loathing of this film even though I like the composers, director and stars. There's just something about it that inspires OTT hatred on my part.

Back to the Ambassadorial angle. Simon's piece has implanted images in my head of wealthy Dems strolling about Foggy Bottom whilst wearing lederhosen and imitating Wolfgang Puck. Perhaps the best Puck impersonator should get the job or they should have a Sound Of Music sing-off or some such shit.

Ah, the things I think about first thing in the morning, which evokes a Rogers and Hammerstein song from a better musical:

 

Iran To Hollywood: Argo Fuck Yourself

The last part of the post title is one of the best lines in the entertaining but historically errant best picture winner. The theocratic Iranian government dislikes the movie but does like photoshop. Say what? That's right, the Iranian news agency Fars photoshopped FLOTUS' shoulders and guns out of a picture at their web site. Here's a before and after shot courtesy of the Telegraph:

Fars or farce in Farsi? You decide.

One more thing. I have an alternate headline for this post,

Iran To Hollywood: Affleck Off.

That is all.

The Film of my Love

One bad award show a year is sufficient for me. I'm watching the Academy Awards right now and may post a tape delayed/live blogging thingee latter if I have the oomph. In lieu of that, here's more 10cc:

 

My Kingdom For A Tomb

Call me an oddball, but my favorite current weird news story is the whole Richard III skeleton found in a Leicester car park (Britspeak for parking lot) saga. It's got it all: death, royals, and DNA. The pro-Plantagenet press corps is busy bashing the Tudor-ites who, in turn, are dissing the Windsors. I made that last bit up.

It's always fun when historical myth turns out to be true as it has in this case. Of course, it has also brought on a bit of revisionism as well: was poor Richard as bad as Shakespeare made him out to be? Probably not, the Bard was sucking up to the Tudors and it would have been hard for *anyone* to be as big a monster as Henry VIII.

My interest in Richard III stems from a very good high school English teacher, Miss Jackson, who had a way of teaching Shakespeare that held the interest of a group of hormonally crazed California teenagers. Not an easy feat.

The Guardian has been all over the story. Here's the master link. The latest story is about the re-creation of Richard's face. I prefer to think of the face of the great actor who played him in the modernized version of Shakespeare's Richard III that hit stage and screen in the 1990's, Ian McKellen. He is, alas, better known for wearing a ZZ Top-style beard whilst playing Gandalf but here he is playing the King as Fascist dictator:

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Invasion Of The Body Snatchers

I usually despise re-makes; especially when the original film was a good 'un. There are, of course, exceptions to every rule and Invasion Of The Body Snatchers is mine. I *love* both versions and may even give Philip Kaufman's 1978 version a slight edge over Don Siegel's 1956 original, which is almost unprecedented for me.

 

Here's the 1956 trailer:

 

Here's the 1978 trailer:

 

'Women no longer need to be beautiful to express their talent'

Bitches, please: 

Reading through an otherwise insipidEsquire profile of Megan Fox (bitch believes in leprechauns!) about how she's aiming to "escape from her fate as a sex symbol" (which she goes about doing by posing in her bra and panties for the magazine?), one is suddenly slapped with this gratuitous little nugget from the piece's author Stephen Marche: "[W]omen no longer need to be beautiful in order to express their talent. Lena Dunham and Adele and Lady Gaga and Amy Adams are all perfectly plain, and they are all at the top of their field."

First of all, yes, Amy Adams, that horse-faced hellbeast:*

I think she's perfect and I want to brush her hair. 

Second of all, you know who didn't need to look conventionally hot to "express her talent?"

FUCKING AMELIA. 

FUCKING MARIE.

FUCKING NINA.

Now, you could make an argument that being unusual-looking is a new thing for FILM ACTRESSES OH WAIT FUCKING BETTE:

YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID.

A. 

*This is not about whether Amy Adams is hotter than Megan Fox. It's about WHAT THE FUCK, THIS GUY. 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Seven Days In May

Seven Days In May is an odd movie to dub pulp fiction. The novel on which it was based was pretty darn pulpy but the film had an A-List cast, prestige director and first rate screenwriter. I'm trotting it out today because it's a personal favorite of mine; every time I stumble into it on cable, I watch it as if it were the first time. In short, it's a thrilling thriller.

This tale of an aborted military coup against a dovish nuke cutting President (Fredric March) was inspired by the massive falling out between JFK and his generals after the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Kennedy read the book and told the author that General Scott reminded him of Gen. Curtis LeMay. Mercifully for the country, LeMay was no Burt Lancaster, and his foray into politics as George Wallace's running mate in 1968 was an embarrassment for all concerned.

Here's the trailer:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Act Of Violence

Robert Ryan cornered the post-war film noir market on playing disturbed, even psychotic, veterans. It left him somewhat typecast as a villain, which is a pity. Ryan was movie star handsome and a versatile performer when given the chance. He was also baseball great Ted Williams' doppleganger.

Act Of Violence is a tightly paced, well-acted little film directed by Fred Zinnemann as a prelude to his career as an A-List Oscar winning director. Ryan steals the film playing-what else?-a disturbed veteran.

The only thing I don't like about Act Of Violence is its dopey and misleading title. Oh well, nobody's perfect...

Here's the trailer:

  

EVERYONE TALK TO ME ABOUT LES MISERABLES

It's one of my favorite books, but I decided I was over musicals a while back, and then the previews came out, and then Anne Hathaway who is my motherfucking homegirl, and I haven't seen it on stage since high school, so hey, why not? 

Spoilers within. 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Only Angels Have Wings

 

Only Angels Have Wings is a hard boiled movie with a sappy title. It's not exactly genuine pulp fiction but it's my blog and I felt like writing about it. Dr. A and watched this 1939 Howard Hawks classic the other day and it grabbed me like it always does. It's about a group of stoic pilots flying the mail in impossible conditions and the dames who sass them.

Now for a few fun facts about one of my favorite films from Hollywood's so-called golden age. I think it was really made outta Zinc:

Cary Grant's character, hard-bitten and sarcastic airline boss, Geoff Carter, is the template for the badass heroes of many future Hawks films from His Girl Friday to To Have And Have Not to The Big Sleep to Red River to Rio Bravo.

Thomas Mitchell had an amazing year in 1939, appearing in Gone With The Wind, The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, Stagecoach and Mr. Smith Goes To Washington as well as this flick.He copped a best supporting actor Oscar for Stagecoach but could have won for any of those performances.

Here's the trailer:,

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Forty Guns

Samuel Fuller was the ultimate cult film director of the 1950's and '60's. He made dark, quirky, and complex low-ish budget movies. Dr. A and I saw this little noir Western gem for the first time last night on TCM. It's to die for and must-see. Holy contradictory sentiments, Batman. Btw, Fuller's original title was Woman with a Whip but it made the studio queasy. Hmm, I wondered if he asked Betty Page to be in the cast? Probably not.

The always awesome Barbara Stanwyck's character is a cross between a a badass rancher chick and a Tammany Hall sachem. She did all her own riding, whip wielding, and stunts, including being dragged by a galloping horse during a dust storm. I kid you not. Fuck yeah, Miz Stanwyck.

Here's the trailer:

 

And for the cherry on the pulp sundae, here's a song written for the flick, High Ridin' Woman wherein the aforementioned whip was,uh, whipped out in the lyrics or something like that:

Sunday Morning Video: Santa Claus Conquers The Martians-MST3K

It's time to serve up some holiday snark with Joel, Crow and Tom Servo:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Crossfire

Crossfire is sui generis: a socially conscious film noir. The acting is stellar; especially Robert Ryan as an anti-Semitic shithead and the always awesome Robert Mitchum. Hell, even Robert Young is pretty darn good. That's right, Marcus Fucking Welby.

Here's the trailer:

 

Sunday Morning Video: Gimme Shelter

In the wake of Woodstock, huge outdoor concerts were all the rage. The Rolling Stones show at Altamont was the anti-Woodstock, free love, peace, and all that hippie shit were in short supply there. It didn't help matters that the Hell's Angels did security there; sort of like giving an arsonist a can of gasoline.

Anyhoo, here's the Maylses Brothers' classic Altamont documentary, Gimme Shelter:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Nightmare Alley

Nightmare Alley has an odd pedigree for a film noir classic. Tyrone Power was the prettiest leading man of his day and was best known for lighter fare. But he gave the performance of a lifetime as a sleazy grifter who becomes a sideshow geek by the end of the movie. And Director Edmund Goulding was known as a "woman's director" who worked with such stars as Crawford, Garbo and Davis. Not exactly a gritty resume but Nightmare Alley is noirlicious:

Here's the trailer:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Son of Frankenstein

I love the Frankenstein movies made by Universal during the 1930's. Oddly enough, Son of Frankenstein was the first one I ever saw, and it remains my favorite of the Karloff as the monster flicks. What's not to like? It features three of the greatest big screen villains of all-time in Rathbone, Karloff, and Lugosi as well as Lionel Atwill's cop character with the crazy wooden arm. It's obvious that Mel Brooks loves it too: many of the funniest characters and bits in Young Frankenstein are drawn from the Son.

Here's the lobby card for your amusement. Time for me to re-arrange my hump...

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Charlie Chan in Egypt

I have more guilty pleasures than any mere mortal should have. One of them is (are?) Charlie Chan movies. They are laced with ethnic stereotypes, broad humor and Scandinavians playing Asians but, lord help me, I love them.

I recently watched Charlie Chan in Egypt for the first time in many years. It is simultaneously good and campy. It features an Egyptian dude who calls everyone "effendi," the fortune cookie wisdom of Warner Oland as Charlie Chan and the antics of Lincoln Perry aka Stepin Fetchit. The story is swell but every time Oland and Perry were onscreen together I started riffing about duelling ethnic stereotypes: the positive versus the negative. I suspect you can figure our which is which.

Anyhoo, here's the lobby card. Btw, Rita Cansino is the *very* young version of future screen goddess, Rita Hayworth who was a Latina playing an Arab. She was pretty darn cute as a brunette too:

Boardwalk Empire Thread: Shooting Up The Ritz

Gyp Rosetti is moving in on Nucky Thompson's Atlantic City fiefdom. In fact, Nucky is on the run after Gyp's guys burst into Nucky's suite at the Ritz and shot up the joint in the opening scene of Two Impostors. The Nuckster is bound to be banned from swank hotel life after this. It makes a Keith Moon room trashing look sedate. I suspect the AC Ritz would rather have Led Zeppelin as guests. Should I go on? Nah.

On to a few terse comments about the not so terse turf war, and then I'll tersely order a surf and turf:

Chalky's Back: I've been demanding the return of my favorite illiterate but awesome gangster for weeks now. We've had a few Chalky teasers but he's back in his full blown glory. Why? Nucky runs home to Chalky after Gyp's gang seriously wounds his faithful factotum Eddie. It takes time for Nucky to fully grovel but after Gyp offers Chalky $25K to sell out Nucky, the latter finally gives in.

Chalky's proto-Buppie future son-in-law reappears to doctor Eddie's gut wound. He keeps saying: "I'm only a student" but it looks like he's got a promising future as a mob surgeon.  It's unclear as to whether Eddie will make it but, hey, at least Nucky knows he has a family now.

Now Be Thankful

I've always liked Thanksgiving. You get to gorge yourself, drink too much and get into arguments with right wing relatives or just have your basic family fight. I'm grateful that we have a holiday about, well, gratitiude.

I'm also thankful that one of my favorite films, Barry Levinson's Avalon, has a Thanksgiving scene is that is clearly more awesome than Jude:

 

 I'm particularly grateful for our weird little online blog family here at First Draft. We've got it all: from a crazy ferret lady to a neurotic academic to an allegedly awesome former squid to a blonde lady in a ham suit to a photoshop ninja to Southern Beale and her little dog Toto Tommy T. That's right, Tommy T too. But it's our readers who make this quirky community quiver or some other word beginning in Q. Why Q? It could have something to do with the character from Star Trek TNG but otherwise it beats the hell out of me.

Finally, I'm grateful that the tune I'm posting for this all-American Plymouthy Rocky holiday is written by a Brit-Richard Thompson-who is married to an American and lives in Southern California most of the time. Here's a version of Now Be Thankful performed with his ex-wife Linda who is a Brit who lives in Southern California. I seem to be repeating myself. You lot have got to be used to that by now.

 

Spielberg's Lincoln

As a film buff and political history junkie, I *really* enjoyed Lincoln on both levels. I was a bit nervous about the tone because at his worst Spielberg's film can be treacly and saccharine. BUT the film captured the rollicking, melancholy and devious complexity of the real Lincoln, Daniel Day-Lewis checked his hammy impulses at the door and disappeared into the role so I gotta give this latest opus a big thumbs up/4 stars/A kinda notice.

Comparisons to our current body politic (corpus delicti?) are inevitable. It's no surprise that I'm pretty sure that Lincoln would be a moderate Democrat nowadays. He was a reasonable man who believed in progress and science and wasn't big on organized religion. The Tea Party would primary the hell out of him or anyone else who supported the 13th Amendment. If it's not in the original Constitution, fuck it, they'd say.

Speaking of Confederates neo and old school: Southern pols haven't changed at all. Veteran character actor Jackie Earle Haley plays CSA Veep Alexander Stephens who leads the least covert "secret" peace delegation ever. Despite the fact that the Confederates are losing the war on the battlefield, he presents a list of demands, which go nowhere. The C in CSA did not stand for compromise, after all. It reminds me of certain party that lost a national election that centered on tax policy insisting that it's their way or the highway. Speaker Boner may be an Ohioan but the GOP is Confederate to its core.

Anyway, go see the flick, which also features great turns by Tommy Lee Jones, David Strathairn, Sally Field and James Spader. A special commendation goes to Walton Goggins of The Shield and Justified who is known for playing crazy-eyed, homicidal villains. In Lincoln, he plays-get ready-a spineless pussy of a Congressman who's undecided on the anti-slavery 13th Amendment. Nice to see him cast against type: Boyd Crowder would have caused some serious mayhem but this dude wobbled and waffled before caving at the end.

Let's end with some Goggins before and after pictures:

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Born To Kill

It's film noir time at First Draft. Born To Kill is a personal favorite of mine. Lawrence Tierney is the chillingly heartless villain and Claire Trevor is awesome as the socialite femme fatale. It's a must see, y'all. Great tag line and fabulous supporting cast; especially Walter Slezak as a sleazy PI and Elisha Cook Jr as Tierney's toady.

Another notable name in the credits is director Robert Wise. In 1947 when Born To Kill was released, and into the 1950's, Wise specialized in hardboiled and dark filmic fare. He is now best known for <sigh> The Sound Of Music. The hills are fucking alive with the sound of motherfucking music...

Here's a clip wherein Tierney proves that he was indeed, Born To Kill:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Forbidden Planet

In case anyone is paying attention, I've decided to add movie posters and lobby cards to my PFT arsenal since I've been doing this feature so long. I'm also tired of typing the word, detour.

It's been two days since we did not elect our first robot President, so I decided to post Robby the Robot. Of course, Robby is more lifelike than Willard Mittbot Romney:

 

Sunday Morning Video: Mitchell

Here's the complete MST3K classic with Joe Don Baker being mocked relentlessly by Joel and the bots:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Another Spook Show Detour

Happy All Saints Day from Bela and me:

Sunday Morning Video: Chamber of Secrets

If you haven't seen Argo yet, go today, it's terrific even if the ending is Hollywoodized. In the flick, John Goodman plays  real life makeup artist John Chambers. This episode of Hollywood Treasure (a show featuring movie collectible dealer and auctioneer Joe Maddalena) shows what happened to some of Chambers' finest work. I only hope his heir isn't kicking himself for not waiting to go to auction until after Argo's release.

 

Boardwalk Empire Thread: Ging Gang Goolie

 

It's hard being a corrupt Attorney General. Harry Daugherty is under investigation and his pudgy bag man, Jess Smith, has a meltdown at a Boy Scout shebang, which was probably caused by the Scouts rendition of the excreable dirt sleeping anthem, Ging Gang Goolie. I know that it gave me nightmares. My skin crawls at the very thought of camping. I am a city boy and damn proud of it.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, Nucky is pissed off at Harry who reciprocates by having the Nuckster tossed  in the hoosegow. Nucky chills in the cooler, and then is fined $5 at the night court by a judge who looks nothing like Harry Anderson.

The Nuckster runs into his old nemesis, Esther Randolph, who has been demoted to trying cases in front of Judge Not Harry Anderson. Hey, at least Dan Fielding isn't there to pinch her ass. Anyway, Nucky is concerned that Daugherty is planning to throw him under the trolley car and comes up with a plan to make this boomerang on the crooked AG. His attempt to sell this idea to Ms. Randolph flops. For now, for now.

Okey doke, on to some brief comments:

Seeing Double: Madam Mommie Dearest Jillian's life continues to suck ass. She catches Charlie Lucky encouraging one of her "hoors" (his word, not mine, Imam) to sell heroin to the johns. Jillian wants to run a respectable bordello and fires her ass after being mocked by Charlie Lucky for having "hoors" who dress like school marms. Roaring Twenties snap.

After her encounter with the future boss of bosses, she gathers Jimmy's pictures and puts them in a jar that she keeps by the door. What is it for? Oops, that's Eleanor Rigby, not Madam Mommie Dearest Jillian.

She hits the boardwalk, meets a young Hoosier named Roger who resembles Jimmy. She beds him and calls him James because "that's the name of a king." I shall call him Roger James.

Jillian is a fascinating, twisted and very disturbed character. Her sick and incestuous relationship with Jimmy was deeply creepy, and the new thing with Roger James is as well. I love casting the sweet faced and adorable Gretchen Moll as the skeezy, hopelessly messed up Jillian. And Gretchen rocks the part, y'all.

Scrapbooking with Richard Harrow: Speaking of creepily endearing characters, Richard has a new fixation. He meets a nice young lady when he helped her drunken lout of a father after he got his blotto butt kicked at the Legion Hall. Stomp. Hmm, that sounds like a country song; maybe something for George Jones...

Richard likes this woman because she'll look him in the eye, and not call him "half moon" like her drunken lout of a father did. Hereinafter referred to as DLOAF. DLOAF? That sounds like day old bread or well-worn, uh, loafers. 

Richard goes home, takes off his Guy Fawkes mask, and breaks out his scrapbook. Jack Huston is astonishing as Richard. He's a third generation thespian and has a silent film star vibe going on. He moves very gracefully, sort of like Charlie Chaplin and has that shell shocked John Gilbert look.  I hope Richard finds his Garbo.

Btw, if you'd like to see an *excellent* silent film, Gilbert is awesome in King Vidor's The Big Parade. It's the first great Hollywood war film, and it was fresh and contemporaneous when it came out in 1925. It's set in what Wilson called the war to end all wars. Woodrow was meshuggah when  he said that...

Striking Matches: It's the case of the burning greenhouse. Nucky and Margaret have a greenhouse? Who knew? I wonder if Teddy will eventually become the marijuana king of Atlantic City? Probably not. Enough with the questions, already.

Margaret suspects her creepily endearing pyromaniacal son of setting the blaze. Teddy loves matches but is not guilty: a "vagrant" did it. An aside: Not a word we use today but perhaps I should revive it. I got nothing better to do right now. Plus it rhymes with fragrant and flagrant...

Speaking of fire, Margaret and IRA Man Owen (I'm dead serious about this multiple name thing, y'all) reignite their smoldering passion in (where else?) the greenhouse. We didn't see much of Nucky's greenhouse: I wonder if it was anything like the one in The Big Sleep wherein Bogie sweated like Willard Romney during the last debate. Pardon the digression but what's a little digression among friends? The Crack Van is all about digression, yo.

I'll let the great Chris Difford have the last word with a croaky voiced rendition of a tune from Babylon and On, which is what I just did:

 

Sunday Morning Video: Devoman vs. Clevezilla

I've developed a lethal addiction to some of the SyFy channel's reality shows. This is an episode of Monster Man wherein a zany make-up artiste does some work for new wave legends, Devo:

 

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Eddie Cantor Detour

Eddie Cantor was campy as opposed to pulpy BUT I've been writing about the banjo-eyed Vaudevillian (a word I adore) as a character in Boardwalk Empire. And BE is kinda, sorta neo-pulp so here we go:

Calling Max Von Sydow

 

I rarely link to malakatude central aka Politico.com but this story is irresistible since it's about Athenae's boy friend:

Sen. John Kerry joked Wednesday that he’ll need an “exorcism” after the final debate next week to purge Mitt Romney after playing the GOP presidential nominee for weeks in debate prep with President Barack Obama.

“It’s been an interesting exercise,” Kerry said on MSNBC’s “Morning Joe.” “I’ve decided next Tuesday I’ve got to have an exorcism of Romney out of my being.”

I suppose he could get a lesser movie exorcist but, at the risk of sounding like Jimmy Carter, why not the best? Besides, Max played chess with death in The Seventh Seal so he knows a thing or three about playing for high stakes.

 

Alex Karras, R.I.P.

Detroit Lions all-time great, broadcaster and actor, Alex Karras, has died after a long illness at the age of 77. Unfortunately, more people are mentioning his part on the junky sitcom Webster than his days as one of the fiercest and best defensive players of the NFL's early days. Karras' name also surfaced recently during the Saints bountygate clusterfuck since he and Paul Hornung were suspended for the 1963 season for betting on games but never against their own teams. That's probably why Karras is not in the football hall of fame but he should be since Hornung is in like Flynn...

If you've ever read George Plimpton's classic book, Paper Lion, or seen the Alan Alda movie based on the book, you know that Karras was an intelligent, articulate and funny man. If you're unfamiliar with Paper Lion, check it out: Plimpton practiced with the Lions, and even played QB in an exhibition game. No, not a pre-season game, they hadn't come up with that dread euphemism in the 1960's.

Since Karras was one of the first Greek-Americans to achieve national prominence, my late father offered his classic commentary about that fact: "He's Greek, you know. He's doing very well."

The main reason I am posting in honor of Alex Karras, however, is his indelible performance as Mongo in the Mel Brooks masterpiece, Blazing Saddles. I am prone to employ Mongo speak when it suits me, as I will now: "Mongo sad."

 

 

Great Moments In Gangster Film History

Posting that picture of the Gypster and the gas hose got me thinking about some of my favorite cinematic gangster moments. Since I compared Gyp to Cody Jarrett from White Heat, I thought I'd post *my* favorite image from that Jimmy Cagney-Raoul Walsh classic. It's the scene where Cody locks a guy in his trunk, starts nibbling on a chicken leg and then shoots the guy through the trunk whilst eating:

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Spook Show Detour

I've gotten hooked on a show on the Syfy network: Collection Intervention. It features History Detective, appraiser and Tulane alum Elyse Luray. Elyse works with obsessive collectors in an attempt to reign in their collections and to make a few bucks along the way.

In a recent episode, Elyse worked with a guy in LA who collects all sorts of oddball pop-culture items. You know, the stuff that I like. The collector had a bunch of spook show posters. A spook show was a live performance that was usually done at a movie theatre from the 1930's to the 1960s. The posters are clearly pulpilcious:

Sunday Morning Video: The Tramp and the Dictator

Chaplin and Hitler had more in common than a toothbrush mustache. Here's a swell hour long documentary from the great Kevin Brownlow on that very subject: