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Doghouse's Replies
More than any other single element, I have to conclude the casting is what allows MCV to achieve the magic it does. The screenwriter's other produced projects - six of them - range from unmemorable to annoying. The director's dozen other credits are equally unremarkable. In the hands of lesser - and less harmonious - players, I can easily imagine the whole thing just laying there as (and as swanstep has noted) labored and threadbare formula.
To those you've singled out, I'd like to add an honorable mention of versatile Lane Smith as the genially smug prosecutor (his cry of "I - (clap) - DENtical" has long been something of a catch-phrase around our house), and along with Bruce McGill's low-key presence as the determined but honest sheriff, what emerges is a dramatic construction with antagonists but no villains. There simply isn't anyone to dislike anywhere in the piece (even the poolroom goon Pesci eventually decks with a flying haymaker is too comically ineffectual to actually dislike).
Along with them, equally versatile and reliable character players like Maury Chaikin and James Rebhorn represent people it's dramatically necessary only to neutralize rather than defeat and humiliate. In this way, every last character is allowed their humanity, and this approach - which contributes greatly to the film's overall sweetness - is no more satisfyingly distilled than in Fred Gwynn's imposing and formidable Judge Haller, for whom we can't help but develop affection even as he appears to menace Vinny.
I'd like to think that this character is the one that finally sent Herman Munster to his rest at long last, and for which Gwynne will be best remembered.
P.S. A glance at his credits reveals something of which I wasn't aware (and can't imagine how I missed at the time): an appearance as Jonathan Brewster in a 1969 TV production of Arsenic and Old Lace. I'm sure Gwynne's still-fresh association with Herman Munster must have added a layer of comic dimension to the play's "He looks like Boris Karloff" running gag.
ecarle said:
"Funny: clearly Osborne taped his intro and outgo segments back-to-back, but you FELT that he had been sitting there with you watching the whole movie with you."
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A happy combination, I think, of showbiz and sincerity, the latter perhaps being a reflection of what I call "Neglected DVD Syndrome:" your most-loved favorites - your personal "essentials" - are in your collection and at your fingertips any time you want them, day or night, yet during those "at loose ends" for something to watch times (like the old Cracker Jack jingle, "What do you want when you gotta have somethin'..."), each title on the shelf, be it Double Indemnity or Sunset Blvd, Chinatown or Bullitt, Psycho or North By Northwest, induces the sense of having had the entire movie flash through your head in an instant as it catches your glance, and you pass, feeling as though you've just at that moment finished watching it.
And then what happens next time you're flipping through the channels? "Oh, look, Sunset Blvd!" And you stop right there and finish it, whether its a half-hour, an hour or more in progress. And the DVD remains on the shelf. Pleeeeease tell me I'm not the only one to whom this quirk of human nature applies.
Regardless, I'm guessing that Osborne was among those who knew many of those films so well that the same "it just played in your head" feeling was at work when beginning a closing segment with something like, "What a shattering conclusion that was." Along with just a hint of showbiz.
I'm in general sympathy, swanstep, with the sentiments expressed in your first paragraph, if not as specifically applied to MCV (a watch-anytime-and-never-tire-of favorite). Some Like It Hot, for instance, has always left me cold other than for a few isolated moments (placing me, I'm sure, within a negligible minority). It all speaks to the perhaps apocryphal "comedy is hard" remark supposedly made by a dying actor, and its subjective and inscrutable nature.
Fish-out-of-water formula MCV indisputably is but, from my purely personal point of view, it's overcome by the sheer likability of all the participants, whose deft skills enable it to rise above its premise, and demonstrates that even that which has been done before can be successfully done again by those with an interest in doing it better (even as Hitchcock sought to do, and succeeded in doing, with Psycho). So while the premise may have been tired, the vitality and sure-footedness with which it's executed appeals to me. And I say this as someone who had found Joe Pesci's previous work in the near-annoying category.
On the Oscar side of things, Tomei's supporting rather than leading nomination is one of many examples of the cynicism inherent in the process, presumably reflecting 20th-Fox's, her agent's and publicist's and/or the actress's own simple calculation that her chances were better in that category. And it seems to have worked.
Being a typical-in-some-ways American male, I resist reading instructions. Is there a word limit on posts here? I think I'm just beginning to catch on to that possibility as an explanation to yours, ecarle, often appearing in segments (all this time, I'd assumed they were further or afterthoughts) when I discovered my above comment had come to an involuntary end. For a minute, I thought my keyboard had gone gershtunken.
Although you had little use for them, I find I miss the formatting options - quote blocks; bold and italics; preview; etc - IMDB provided, and am still sort of casting about for a comfortable way in which to conform to the MovieChat parameters.
ecarle said:
"The 2005 big budget Peter Jackson remake, which rather combined the best of the original(CGI in for stop motion) and the 1976 remake(mucho tears at the end as Naomi Watts tried to save Kong from getting shot.) The 2005 King Kong is my favorite movie OF 2005, but with caveats: I'll never watch the first hour again(thank god for DVDs) and most of my love for it stems from the final NYC sequences(Kong single-mindedly tearing up a theater to get to his rival Adrian Brody; the tear-filled and vertiginous Empire State Building finale.) Indeed, the Jackson Kong splits into three acts which I approach differently: Act One(getting to the island), WAY overlong and torturous to the audience, an indulgence; Act Two(plenty of animal fight action on the island, a great fight of Kong versus TWO T-Rexes, and a new version of the censored "giant spider pit"masscare of many heroes -- but ultimately, too much of a good thing) and..Act Three(all good, all memorable.) Jackson's Kong took the 2005 film back to the 1933 setting(good) and went for quality A-list stars(Naomi Watts -- very good here; Adrian Brody in his recently-Oscared eccentricity; and Jack Black, not quite able to pull off dramatics, but actually quite the rotter in the old Armstrong role.)"
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From the GMTA Dept: the title line of my 5/1/06 IMDB review of the Jackson Kong is "Too Much Of A Good Thing."
Selected excerpts:
- What it does do, it does well enough, but simply too much: too many prehistoric creatures; too many battles with same; too many chases and credulity-stretching hairbreadth escapes, and way too many closeups requiring Naomi Watts to stare soulfully at Kong or goggle-eyed at something else offscreen.
- Aside from overstatement and over-length, a key area in which this film goes wrong is in the presentation of Carl Denham himself. Gone is the gung-ho, go-anywhere-do-anything adventurer played by Robert Armstrong. In his place is Jack Black's mercenary, manipulative and downright dishonest little weasel, one step ahead of the law and not above a little shanghai-ing to serve his ends. Though not without its amusing moments, courtesy of Black, this unfortunate characterization renders this Denham ultimately unsympathetic. While Armstrong's was certainly guilty of less-than-altruistic motives, he didn't exhibit Black's almost sadistic determination at Kong's capture. And when the final, famous "T'was beauty killed the beast" line is spoken, Armstrong's delivery is both rueful and showmanlike; coming from Black, it sounds only as though he's disgusted at losing a meal ticket.
- I don't remember who it was who said, "Less is more," or "Simplfy, simplify, simplify," but they're sentiments to which Jackson and company should have given some consideration. And, sorry, but 3 hours and 7 minutes is just too damn long for Kong.
Lest it sound I was too down on the enterprise, I did find many praiseworthy elements in it, but I'll spare you further excerpts of my characteristically verbose prose, other than on the following point: we do diverge on the Ann Darrow/Kong relationship. What I said 11 years ago was:
- I'd make the argument that the original approach makes Kong a more tragic figure, inasmuch as he goes through so much for Ann without ever having the satisfaction of his affections being returned in any way.
The '33 Kong's devotion to Ann puts me in mind of Monty "Pru" Clift's From Here To Eternity articulation of his devotion to the Army: "Just because you love something doesn't mean it has to love you back."
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ecarle said:
"OK, so Brie Larsen follows up last year's Best Actress win with a popcorn CGI blockbuster. So did Charlize Thereon and Halle Berry, as I recall. And more people will see this on its first day than saw "Room" ever. This is the proper Oscar then blockbuster launch for an actress today."
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Is it worth noting in passing on Theron's own pre-Oscar simian reboot, 1998's Mighty Joe Young (also featuring the recently-passed Bill Paxton)?
But post-Oscar projects are something that have given rise to academic (pun acknowledged but not intended) reflections on career trajectories, especially as it concerns first-timers. The film biz being what it is, a performer's next deal is usually signed and sealed even as he or she embarks on the performance that later earns them the trophy, but would Sinatra have committed to the low-budget Suddenly had he known the aforementioned FHTE would bring home the gold? Joanne Woodward to No Down Payment? Rex Harrison to The Yellow Rolls-Royce? Matthau to A Guide For the Married Man? Liza Minnelli to voicing Dorothy in the animated Journey Back To Oz? Hackman to The Poseidon Adventure? And so on.
Sorry, ec, that I didn't catch this PS earlier. I rather like that idea, not only for '67, but 50th anniversaries could be a regular feature along with the In Memoriam. I can think of two things that might put a damper on enthusiasm for any such thing, however: complaints about too many time-consuming segments already, and the likely dearth of living participants.
To answer your question, yes, Pollard's still around, and it's quite remarkable that the rest of the major players are too. Of the smaller supporting roles, only Denver Pyle, Dub Taylor and Gene Wilder have passed. Even Evans Evans is still with us.
I had to proofread that last sentence carefully. Although correct, "Even Evans Evans" just don't look right, huh?
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"Over the years, it seemed that Baby Jane DID take on some sort of classic status. It must have been a "pop camp classic" because I don't recall the film making any Best Films lists . (Oh, maybe the AFI thriller list topped by Psycho, in 2001 or so, I'll have to check that.)
I would assume that Baby Jane is popular in gay movie-lover circles, if only for the presence of Joan Crawford and, (secondarily?) Davis. I always fear to tread in such areas, but I would guess there is some drag queen flash to how Davis and Crawford look in the film."
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As a gay man who has known thousands of other gay men, I can't say that either I or any of them has ever suitably explained exactly what defines or constitutes camp or gay appeal, iconography or diva status. I do think I can safely say that Davis has it all over Crawford in that department, at least among boomer gay men. WHTBJ would still have been more or less what it was with Astor, de Havilland, Stanwyck or any other comparable contemporary in Crawford's place, but not with anyone else in Davis's. It's her show, and I'm sure Crawford realized it, and that the best she could hope to do was hold her own.
Lest I'm perceived as bestowing some general sort of superiority upon Davis, I'd add that, during their respective leading lady heydays of the '30s-'40s, I always found Crawford the more credible actress of the two: where Davis was full of theatrically grand gestures and exaggerated, eye-popping, stage-like mannerisms, Crawford injected hundreds of subtleties geared for the camera rather than the balcony into her performances. Perhaps that's why she never really generated any drag queen/impersonator popularity as Davis, Bankhead, Garland or Streisand did (at least, not until after Dunaway's Mommie Dearest, which resulted in impersonations of Dunaway's caricature).
But although Crawford had more work in features than Davis did during the '50s, it was Davis who spent the decade exploring character roles befitting her age, while Crawford sought to cling to glamorous, romantic leading roles (as did Stanwyck to some degree), almost invariably with younger leading men such as Jack Palance, Jeff Chandler or Cliff Robertson (and becoming somewhat gargoyle-like in the process). Thus, Davis continued developing as an actress after Crawford had allowed herself to ossify (even five years after WHTBJ, she was appearing in revealing tights and playing the irresistible object of Ty Hardin's affection in 1967's Berserk). So while I feel that Crawford could have been interchangeable with certain other actresses, her and Davis's career trajectories in the preceding decade had suited each to their WHTBJ roles.
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"Baby Jane joined Psycho in being a "modern Gothic horror film" but it created its ONN sixties sub-genre: "The Hag Movie"(a phrase nastily coined, not be me) in which any number of aged Golden Era actresses took on horror-type roles to survive on screen in older age. Davis and Crawford both took more of these roles(The Nanny for Davis; the William Castle/Robert Bloch Strait-Jacket, Berserk and Trog for Crawford.) But Olivia DeHavilland climbed on board for "Charlotte" and Tallulah Bankhead did "Die Die My Darling." Did I miss someone? Perhaps this wasn't THAT big a trend."
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Swanstep's already pretty much rounded out the remainder of the sub-genre (unless you count Stanwyck's 1964 The Night Walker, in which she's apparently stalked by the living corpse of husband Hayden Rourke, before discovering - SPOILER ALERT! - the whole thing's been engineered by her greedy attorney (and real-life ex-husband) Robert Taylor. Oh, how the mighty fell!
But of all the waggish phrases coined at the time, the one I admired most (but which never caught on) was Grande Dame Guignol.
After so-called monsters - vampires, werewolves, ambulatory mummies and so forth - had petered out by the end of the '40s, and with them the concurrent "old dark house" genre (in which the monsters were generally revealed to be merely monstrous humans), along came the super-monsters (giant ants, spiders, resurrected dinosaurs, etc) and their space-alien fellow travelers. By the close of the '50s, the trendiness of those creatures was slipping, and low-budget producers like Castle and Corman were re-scaling horror to once-again human size...and bringing it back into the home. And then Hitchcock made it chic.
While all this was happening, less youth-oriented films of the '50s were exploiting then-mature leading ladies - most often, Crawford and Stanwyck - in a series of what I call "woman on the edge" dramas, in which they were either menaced by unhinged killers or, driven by jealousy, betrayal, greed or some combination thereof, became unhinged killers themselves. It was perhaps inevitable that an enterprising producer-director like Aldrich, who had already done his own "woman on the edge" drama with Crawford (Autumn Leaves) six years earlier, would engage in some cross-pollination. If he hadn't, someone else likely would have.
In spite of Robin Wood's suffer-by-comparison evaluation of Baby Jane, there's some significance and even flattery in his choice to invoke Hitchcock at all. But although it may look and feel like Psycho in superficial ways, there's as much Rear Window as Psycho in Baby Jane, with some Shadow Of A Doubt mixed in: a wheelchair-bound and trapped innocent; growing awareness of personal jeopardy; ultimately life-threatening menace at the hands of a homicidal and desperate killer.
Yet, as you observe, there's also just as much Sunset Blvd underlayment: the "old Hollywood" milieu; a vintage palazzo and auto; pining over glories of lost careers; escalating madness resulting in both death and detachment from reality. There's really not much thematic ground between the dreamlike states of Norma Desmond "back in the studio making a picture again" and "Baby" Jane dancing on the beach for adoring admirers, is there?
I remember Mary Astor writing in her autobiography about her approach to the characters she played, likening it to cooking, with the repeated phrase of getting her "pot bubbling" serving as the metaphorical point at which she'd gotten a handle on each, and that metaphor could be extended to film making in general. There are only so many edible substances, but it's their selections, combinations and proportions that create new recipes with cups, teaspoons, pinches and dashes of this or that.
And it's the truly imaginative chefs like Hitchcock inspiring "who would have thought to combine these ingredients...it's like nothing I've ever tasted" reactions, rather than "it's good, but it reminds me of..." ones.
Just read in this morning's paper that the two PWC representatives present Sunday night have been permanently removed from any future Oscar duties. This public relations bandage for PWC's black eye is, I'd guess, as far as any punishment will go. But the man who handed Beatty the wrong envelope will henceforth be a party to enduring Oscar lore, and I'm willing to bet that, say, 20 years from now, he'll be claiming his role in that history: "Remember when the wrong Best Picture winner was announced? Well, I was the guy responsible for that."
Considering how long that accounting house has been handling the awards (somewhere in the neighborhood of 80 years, I think), they've had a remarkable track record, and human fallibility being what it is, it's probably a miracle this is their first big slip-up. Just as well it was the beaut that it was. If it had happened on the Sound Mixing award, for instance, who'd remember even 5 years from now?
These gasp-inducing moments are really good for the entire enterprise in the long run: Goldie Hawn announcing the vocal Oscar refusenik as the winner ("Oh my god, it's George C. Scott!"); Sasheen Littlefeather and the streaker a few years later; earlier occurrences such as the L.A. paper that jumped the gun and printed the winners in its early evening edition before they'd been handed out (in the days when those results were still furnished to the dailies as a courtesy, and the last time it was done); a presenter announcing the Best Director winner with, "Come and get it, Frank," and poor nominee Capra getting halfway to the stage before realizing the "Frank" in question was Lloyd; Capra himself getting the bright idea of gathering all the directing nominees onstage for the announcement (Hitchcock among them) like beauty pageant contestants only to discover the winner was the one no-show; Claudette Colbert being snatched moments before boarding a train and whisked to the Biltmore Hotel to accept her unexpected It Happened One Night award in her traveling suit and so on.
In the end, it all merely adds to the cachet.
I shall endeavor to render unto seizor the things that are seizor's, and can be searched out for a seizure any time.
This is what happens when I get started: absolutely no belief in any form of pun control.
You too, Gubbio. I trust we'll be encountering one another not only on this board but, as the song goes, in all the old familiar places...A Star Is Born, Laura and so on.
As another song goes, everything old is new again.
Hi, ec!
Been nosing around here for the last week or so and just wanted to say hello. Still getting the lay of the land in these parts, as well as on https://www.themoviedb.org/ and http://imdb2.freeforums.net/. Each offers its own advantages, and I was especially pleased to note the email notification feature here, upon which I depended greatly at imdb.
Many's the time I'd get a reply to posts from months or even years earlier, and about many of which I'd forgotten. Some boards apparently had just enough sporadic activity to keep them active, that is to say without any automatic deletion of older threads either by being crowded out by newer activity or the opposite extreme of becoming moribund. I had a reply only last November to a thread I'd started on The Palm Beach Story just shy of 10 years earlier! Talk about a "dangling conversation."
I'm grateful as well to the enterprising and ambitious user who was able to archive so many imdb threads on this site. Of course I've forgotten now who it was, so I can't single them out for the credit they deserve.
Just the same, I have the "fish out of water" feeling I got when when a brand new junior high school was built closer to my home and I was transferred there after a year at another. Although surrounded by many of the same faces, everything else was unfamiliar and I reverted somewhat to the "new kid" uncertainty I'd had entering the other school a year before. But now as then, I guess most of us are "new kids" here.
Anywho, thought I'd touch base after having lurked for a bit.