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After The Oscars… (By Request)

Recently, I got a request from one of my readers…

Okay, okay, my only reader. Or the only one to actually leave comments so far.

So I think she deserves a good response, even if it is way after the fact.

Regarding my column about the Oscar controversy this year, Lynn asked: “When are you going to tell us what you thought when it was all over?”.

Well, the answer is pretty much what you might expect.

The reason I didn’t think it was even worth adding an update to my column was because the show played out almost exactly as I predicted. Only worse.

I thought the show was a debacle. Maybe the most painfully uncomfortable and hard-to-sit-through in all the 45 or so years I have been an Oscar watcher. And that includes the times where Rob Lowe sang “Proud Mary” with Snow White and David Letterman did stupid pet tricks, so that’s really saying something. Chris Rock got off maybe three good jokes at the start, but the rest of it was terrible. The bottom line on handling any controversy is: Can you make it funny? Can you ease the tension, move on from it and bring the audience back together? Rock did not accomplish any of the above. Rather, he beat the topic to a bloody pulp and succeeded in casting a pall over the entire evening. I didn’t laugh, I just cringed. Then, as he wouldn’t drop it, I got angry. Ultimately, the ceremony is a celebration of people’s work and that totally got lost in the mix.

As I said before, Rock is a talented man, but in his comedy act, especially in the last ten years, he often belabors a subject until it becomes repetitive and grating, and in my opinion, this was the Perfect Storm for his worst traits as a performer. I thought he was a bad fit in his last Oscar gig, so it was not a surprise. When he repeated the same gag of asking black moviegoers in nearby Compton what they knew about this year’s Oscar nominees – knowing full well the answers he would get – the result was not just unfunny, patronizing, pointless, it was downright depressing. His only message seems to be that the gulf between races (or classes, or both) is insurmountable – which I think is mostly a belief rooted in his own advanced years. Even if it is still true, how is he helping?

It reminds me of George Carlin in his last years as a comedian when his act stopped being funny and became a hectoring lecture on the sham that is Capitalism. Whatever truth he was speaking to power was drowned out by the vitriol, and eventually, felt almost – almost – as ugly to me as Dennis Miller’s reactionary right-wing routine.

A great comedian finds a way to seduce you into, if not agreeing, then at least understanding and laughing along with their point-of-view. If they can’t do that with genuine wit, browbeating the audience is not the same thing, and no longer really comedy. In the end, the mood was so sour even Rock’s anodyne gag about selling his daughter’s Girl Scout cookies left a bad taste.

So, imagine my surprise the next day when I read the reviews and found everyone raving about how daring and hilarious Rock was. What? Even a lot of my friends felt Rock had shaken up the proceedings in a healthy way, made them more lively at least. I must have seen a different show. Or perhaps I take it all too seriously. In any case, I don’t think Rock will be asked back next year. I think the Academy has endured enough self-flagellation for a while. Hopefully, the 2017 nominations will, in fact, show real diversity – if the industry does its part by releasing good movies of color – and the ceremony can return to just being the world’s highest honor for excellence in film.

The postscript (and post-modern) punchline, of course, is that Rock actually ended up being accused of racism himself for his admittedly lame joke with the three Asian child “accountants”. You couldn’t make it up, the irony is sublime. Hollywood has turned into an eco-friendly production of “The Crucible”.

The Academy apologized, naturally.

Chris Rock didn’t.

I can’t help but applaud him for that.

——————–

As for the winners…

I think they were all very deserving.

I would have loved to see Saoirse Ronan win for Brooklyn – hers was by far the most moving performance of the year in my humble opinion. It was a stunner. But Brie Larson did a fine job in Room and was a lock, probably the surest thing of the night. It’s interesting to me that the Best Actress category’s median age seems to be getting younger and younger every year. Maybe actresses of a certain age need to come up with a protest hashtag – #Oscarssonubile! No, no. I think it’s more a result of truly substantive roles for and work by the younger generation and is a good sign for the future of film.

Call it the Jennifer Lawrence Effect.

It was great to see Leonardo DiCaprio win – not only because I thought his work in The Revenant was excellent, but yes, also because it was overdue after years and years of excellent work.

Stallone’s loss in Best Supporting Actor was a surprise, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. My guess is his forgetting to thank director Ryan Coogler and his co-star Michael B. Jordan at the Golden Globes did not sit well with the voters. It seemed to show a real hubris and lack of perspective. Like Burt Reynolds and Michael Keaton before him, his ego may have ended up sabotaging the fairy-tale ending of his big comeback. It managed to trip up Eddie Murphy as well. Once that feel-good award starts to feel too expected and the recipient just a little bitter or smug, it can all curdle pretty fast.

Besides, the optics of giving an award to The White Guy in Creed, no matter how much of a veteran, would have been legitimately awkward. Especially since the success of that film rests squarely on the shoulders of Coogler, who is maybe the great breakout filmmaker of the year.

And Mark Rylance, a well-respected theatre actor, but up until recently an obscure name in the US, was a feel-good winner himself. It’s always nice when a real working character actor wins. And now he is lined up for Spielberg’s next THREE FILMS, so we will be seeing much much more of him.

The boy from Room macking on Sofia Vergara. Good eye, kid.

I didn’t see Alicia Vikander in The Danish Girl, but her work in Ex Machina blew me away. Yet another young actress with skills way beyond her years.

I loved all the technical wins for Mad Max: Fury Road, the greatest popcorn film of the year…the big wins for direction and cinematography on The Revenant (both men winning for the second year in a row! Proud Mexican nationals, by the way, Diversity!)…and that Spotlight won Best Original Screenplay, then nipped in at the finish line and pulled a Best Picture win. They were right choices all the way around. It showed Academy voters really can delineate the strengths of each film and spread the honors around accordingly. It was a very satisfying eclectic mix.

My only nitpicking complaints would be The Big Short for Best Adapted Screenplay (instead of Brooklyn) – a film I felt was vastly overrated; and the mystifying Best Song nod for the anemic Spectre theme. Although I’m glad it beat Lady Gaga’s entry, which despite the laudable subject matter, was just awful. The REAL racism scandal was the omission of the song “See You Again” from Furious 7 from even the list of nominees. The song category is an annual embarrassment. Ms. Academy President, you might want to retire that geriatric bunch of has-beens before doing anything else!

But, overall, a great selection of winners…

Like I say, it’s just sad the night wasn’t really about them.

——————–

Okay…there you go, Lynn – my take, for what it’s worth.

And thanks for reading me – I really appreciate it.

On to the next comment… Uhm, someone? Anybody?

Little Gold Men And The Black Cloud

The Oscars are finally here…

Truth be told, this whole #Oscarssowhite controversy over the last month has really, as the British are fond of saying, done my head in. It’s been frustrating me and bumming me out.

Having watched the show religiously and aspired to the Oscars since I was a little kid, they have always been a big deal in my world. And I have had to defend them on many occasions, against being old-fashioned, stagnant, too commercial, too political, a mere popularity contest instead of a real measure of artistic talent, etc, etc. You know all these arguments by heart. They have been in the ether for as long as I can remember. There has always been controversy in some form. There have always been “undeserving winners” and “outrageous snubs” to complain about. Sometimes emotions get the better of the voters and sometimes they play a little catch-up and give somebody an award more for their entire body of work than the current nomination.

It’s a very human process, with all the fickleness that entails.

Sometimes the choices are indefensible, absurd in retrospect…

Exhibit A:

In 1974, The Towering Inferno was actually nominated for Best Picture! I’m not kidding. That actually happened. And this was when there were only FIVE nominees, for chrissake. The other nominees? Maybe you’ve heard of them: Chinatown, The Conversation, The Godfather Part 2, and Lenny. Yeah. And The Fucking Towering Fucking Inferno!! A disaster movie! In both senses of the word! A movie so bad that even after fanatically anticipating it for months in advance, my 11-year-old brain could still tell what a giant burning turd it was!

One could argue it was being rewarded for mere spectacle – although it fails even on that count – but my guess would be that its inclusion has more to do with the influence of the TWO studios, 20th Century Fox and Warner Bros, that made it in a rare joint venture. This was an expensive film for its time and Hollywood was still a small industry town. If the race wasn’t fixed, then at the very least a lot of people voted with their livelihoods and work relationships in mind.

Thank god it didn’t win.

Some people feel that Crash stands out as the “least-deserving” winner in modern memory. I would give that honor to American Beauty, hands down.
To this day, I still hear people ask in disbelief (smug snobbery?) how Ordinary People could possibly have beaten Raging Bull? Well, although the latter is amazing and a technical masterpiece, the former actually makes people cry. They voted with their hearts. Mystery solved.

See where I’m going with this?

The Oscars are just opinions, counted up on little pieces of paper. That’s all. They are influenced by so many different factors that it’s impossible to reduce it to something mathematical, logical.

And as any Oscar buff knows, political issues have always intruded on the process. I just finished a book called “The Big Show” by Steve Pond, a collection of Behind-The-Oscars articles on the backstage goings-on over fifteen years, and it reminded me of not just Sacheen Littlefeather and Vanessa Redgrave and Michael Moore, but also earlier protests by Black leaders.

Do I think race comes into play?

It’s a bit of a trick question, isn’t it? Yes and no. We’re all of us racist to some degree, whether we admit it or not. But just because we see someone as ‘the other’ when we shouldn’t, doesn’t mean we don’t want to reward them for an incredible performance. Sometimes being ‘the other’ makes your fine work and talent stand out even more. As many have recently said, it’s much more about lazy thinking on the production end than anything else. It’s harder to get movies made with minority leads – not just Black, but also Asian, Latino, Middle-Eastern, or for that matter, any actor from a foreign country. Hell, it’s harder to get movies made with a FEMALE LEAD. So if you’re saying that a richer tapestry of people of all colors/ethnicities is needed and a much wider variety of stories – who can really dispute that? And I do believe everyone benefits, the art form benefits, from working towards that goal. So I hope all this talk will give us a boost in that direction…

Historically, there have been times where I felt actors of color were definitely unfairly overlooked. The entire cast of The Color Purple leaps to mind. I love that film. 11 nominations and not one win! At the time I felt it was more a snub of Spielberg and his “sentimental” style than blunt racism…but yeah, it certainly felt suspicious. (Out Of Africa won instead, not helping – a stilted white romance in the heart of the dark continent)

I also felt strongly that Wesley Snipes should have been nominated for his heartbreaking turn in The Waterdance, and that Samuel L. Jackson should have won for Jackie Brown.

I’m sure there are plenty of others…

But in the last 20 years, we’ve seen the following winners; Denzel Washington (for the second time), Halle Berry, Cuba Gooding Jr., Jamie Foxx, Jennifer Hudson, Monique, Forrest Whitaker, Morgan Freeman, Octavia Spencer, and Lupita Nyongo.

Does that automatically level the playing field? Of course not… But it is a helluva’ group of talented people. Including a few of our very finest actors: Freeman, Washington, Whitaker.

Two years ago, 12 Years A Slave won Best Picture.

So I guess I resent the implication that there’s been no progress at all, just because the last couple years have been dry. I don’t really believe the Academy – more often attacked by Right Wingers as a hotbed of Commies and Limo Liberals – is racist in its heart. I think most of the voters would revel in the opportunity to reward artists of color. But the industry has to supply them with the work to choose from. This year Creed, Straight Outta Compton, and Beasts Of No Nation are being cited as overlooked. One is a popcorn film with a novelty supporting turn (or return to form) for a veteran action star of ill repute – the second is a biography of a rap group, that no matter how well-made was never going to be the Academy’s cup of tea – and the third is a dark, depressing movie about children soldiers in Africa released by an online streaming company, Netflix. In each case, a good argument can be made that there were other complicating factors at play.

Spike Lee is boycotting the show despite the inconvenient fact that a few weeks ago he was given a Lifetime Achievement award from the Academy. Despite the fact that the Academy President is African-American, and so are the producer and host of this year’s show.

If the Academy is racist, then they are really really bad at it!

And some of the reactions to the whole thing have just defied logic. Will Smith and Jada Pinkett are exactly the wrong people to be protesting – especially since it looks like sour grapes on Smith’s part for not being nominated for Concussion. And the idea that the Academy needs to suddenly recruit a bunch of minority members is insulting to everyone involved because it implies people will only vote down their color line. That’s ridiculous, that’s not the answer.

Again, put the pressure on the studios to hire minority talent – that is the change we want.

This article says it much better than I possibly can.

But you are never going to get anywhere “shaming” the Academy into giving Oscars to as many black actors as possible. And who would want to win the award with that kind of shadow hanging over it? Who wants that asterisk next to their name? You can’t legislate award shows. By doing so, you negate the whole purpose. You take all the joy out of the wins, which are, by their very nature, gifts. It will only lead to more bitterness and more division.

In any case, the whole debacle has really kind of taken the fun out of the Oscars this year. I guess some would say that’s as it should be. But I still find it depressing. I look forward to when this conversation becomes passe…

Chris Rock is a smart, funny man, but if anything, he likes to throw gasoline on every fire, so I’m cringing a little at what might go down. It will be interesting to see how far he goes.

We may all feel like Jude Law by the end!

In any case, bring on the show…

–RR

Still Thugly After All These Years?

Spectre is #1 on the DVD sales chart this week…

I saw it way back in November, of course, the very first night it opened in US theatres, but my skepticism and dread were such before I saw it, and my reaction so complicated afterwards, the whole thing left me too exhausted for an actual “review”.

The same had been true for Skyfall – though I finally howled my disgust here.

Unlike that film, so inexplicably adored by critics and audiences alike, Spectre at least felt like a step in the right direction. Meaning it was recognizable to me as a Bond film. The character was his old proactive self, chasing a mystery, not just reacting. M, Q and Moneypenny were used wisely. The action, if underwhelming, had that sexy sheen that used to be trademark 007. The Bond girl was smoking hot, sharp as a tack, and utterly believable (more on her later). Gadgets made a minor but welcome comeback. And at long last the gunbarrel was back in its rightful place at the beginning – a small thing, yes, but kind of symbolic of a series gone astray.

Even Daniel Craig managed to loosen up a little – or as much as he can evidently – and played someone resembling our suave agent of yore.

All of this was encouraging to me…if I can damn it with such faint praise.

The popcorn fun of the series wasn’t dead after all.

But most people felt exactly the opposite – that it fumbled the ball after the “perfect” Skyfall.

Despite earning $860 million worldwide, it’s widely perceived as a disappointment.

And having now re-watched it on Blu-ray, there’s no doubt that the script ultimately feels generic, lazy, empty. Like a big beautifully gift-wrapped box of nothing special. A very rough first draft, stuck in the past and afraid to make bold choices or move the series forward.

The problem, though, is NOT the return of the more familiar Bond elements…

It’s actually the ‘spectre’ of Skyfall that is the real culprit – as it is paralyzed by, tries to replicate, and takes all the wrong lessons away from that film’s success.

(Just as was done, I might add, from the “failure” of Quantum Of Solace – which, despite a frenetic editing job, is still the most consistently exciting film in Craig’s tenure)

And what a shame it is they couldn’t deliver a killer standalone Bond adventure to bide fans over, because not since Licence To Kill and the subsequent six-year gap between films has there been a bigger crossroads for the series. Or more questions left up in the air…

Will Craig return after his comments about how he’d rather “slash his wrists” than do another installment? Has his surly attitude rankled the Broccoli family at last? He’s getting older and by the time he makes himself available again (he just booked a TV series), will it be too late? The Bond producers’ deal with Sony has expired as well, leaving them shopping for a distributor – could a new company request a completely fresh slate and more creative control? Could it be that Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson are ready to let go of the reins for a healthy payout?

Maybe they finally grasp their stunning ineptitude as producers, and give up?

I have no idea.

But as always, I do have plenty of unsolicited advice for them…

I’ll keep it short and sweet. These are the CORRECT lessons to glean from Spectre:

1) UHM, KEEP IT SHORT AND SWEET

Bond movies are not supposed to be two and a half hour epics that wear audiences down with some misguided attempt at gravitas. It’s not fucking Lawrence Of Arabia, it’s a spy film. It should be nimble on its feet. It should be so stuffed with entertainment it seems to pass in the blink of an eye. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, the longest run-time before Spectre, pulled it off because it was so damn good – but more often you just get bloated and lethargic.

2) IT’S AN ACTION SERIES, REMEMBER?

Something happened along the way where Bond movies gave up on trying to be cutting-edge slam-bang action extravaganzas and settled for ponderous melodrama. Get back to the basics. Forget the prestige directors better known for Broadway (cough) and hire an action guy or gal who knows how to get the audience’s pulse pounding again. Then hire a stunt coordinator with an imagination! Sit down and watch the Mission Impossible or Fast & Furious films to remember everything you’ve forgotten about the art of the extended chase sequence. It’s about adrenaline, stupid.

3) SAME GOES FOR GADGETS

Craig’s belief that you can’t do cool gadgets anymore in this high-tech age is just as tone-deaf as his ear for a witty one-liner. Again, the MI and F&F series use them to great effect and increasingly make Bond, the originator of it all, look like an Amish farmer. The last MI film had so many slick inventions that were used so matter-of-factly, from a magazine-turned-laptop computer to cars that unlock with a palm print, and much much more. The future is here, get with it! Which brings me to…

4) MOVE ON ALREADY!

No more obsessive nostalgia for the old Bond movies, no more retro-styled Birth-Of-Bond backstory bullshit! Just get on with it! Nobody wants to see a pastiche of all the things we loved about the movies pre-Craig, just give us a BRAND NEW ADVENTURE that takes Bond into fresh territory and lets him kick some ass. Enough moping, enough tortured psychology and foster-brothers. Give us some new memories or stay home. All the pretty sepia and shadowy noir pretentiousness could not hide the stagnant feel of Spectre, which essentially kept Bond mired in the 1960’s.

5) LET BOND BE THE COOLEST GUY IN THE ROOM AGAIN

I never went to a Bond film to see a tragic hero who makes mistakes and struggles his way through. No. I go to see the smart super-agent who always manages to turn a dangerous situation around and come out on top, usually by doing something so amazing it makes my jaw drop. That’s the idea. It’s not about him punching or shooting his way out Every. Single. Time. Craig’s Bond has been on an unrelenting diet of brute strength, with no clever outlandish Wow-factor stunts. BORING.

6) NO MORE SAPPY BALLADS

Adele pulled it off – JUST. But Sam Smith’s song is positively soporific, practically inert. How can you charge an audience up for, I reiterate, an EXCITING ACTION FILM, if you insist on starting out with a dirge? What is this need to recapture some old-fashioned pseudo-Shirley Bassey sound? Live And Let Die, A View To A Kill, even You Know My Name (Casino Royale) worked because they broke with the past and got Bond rocking, made him young again.

7) BRING BACK LEA SEYDOUX

It sounds funny I know, especially if Daniel Craig is not returning. But the single best thing about Spectre was this sly sexy Bond Girl who could just as easily be (a female) Bond herself. Even in a rote underwritten role, she delivered in every way possible. From the pure aesthetic pleasure of her slinking down the aisle of the dining car in THAT DRESS, to her cavalierly breaking down a Glock, to the way she sold the words “I love you” and made them believable. She’s pure French dynamite, custom made for the world of 007. If they could bring back Maud Adams in Octopussy, then why not?

And while you’re at it, please resurrect Gemma Arterton from her oily death in QOS and recast her in the role of Moneypenny, with all her cockney charm and cello curves. She would be believable in any action sequence she stumbled into and has the mouth to keep Bond on his toes. Naomi Harris doesn’t have the wit for the role.

8) GIVE THE VILLAINS SOMETHING TO DO

An actual plot? What a novel idea! Richard Maibaum said the secret to a successful Bond film was coming up with the Baddie’s criminal plan. It’s what gives each new film its personality, a twist on the template. The last few movies have been nothing but personal revenge, soap opera twists, and a surveillance subplot that felt ten years late. Get a writer who knows how to weave a genuinely intriguing story that feels current but also larger-than-life. Saving the world never goes out of style.

9) HAVE FUN

One does not need to return to campy Austin Powers-type tropes to have fun with Bond again. Look not only at the MI movies, but at the simple kinetic joys of The Man From UNCLE, Kingsman, Spy, etc. All the films that are busy building on the Bond mythology, playing with it, while the official Bond franchise seems to be running from its own legend; trying to out-grit, out-scowl the Bourne franchise (which, ironically, is STILL more fun and exhilarating than recent Bonds – as evidenced by a mere 30 second teaser for the new film). There are tons of creative people who would kill to give their own fresh take on James Bond and would have a lot of fun doing it.

And finally…

10) HIRE AN ACTOR WHO WANTS THE JOB!

Even Craig’s diehard fans have to admit he has never seemed comfortable with the fame attached to the job. From the start, he was adamant to prove he was a “real actor” who didn’t want to be typecast and who took on the iconic role with great reservations. Nevermind the fact he’s been spectacularly unsuccessful in any non-Bond film and has shown absolutely no emotional range. In his mind, if nowhere else, he is Brando Olivier. So while he’s been raking in the millions and god knows how many endorsement deals, he’s been getting angrier and angrier – which led to the PR tantrum he threw just before Spectre opened. I think it’s time we give him his privacy back. And whoever you hire next, I hope he’s someone who is excited and honored to play Bond, to carry on the tradition and to please the fans. Maybe he will even dare to smile once in a while.

So there you go… Just common sense advice, if you ask me. Even if nobody did.

I do think the Craig era is coming to an end…

And not a minute too soon.

–RR

LIVE Is The Word!

The high ratings for Grease: Live the other night were a much-needed boost for “live event” musicals on TV – they have rescued the format after a shaky start the last few years…

It’s not just the ratings either, but a new sense of good will that didn’t exist before.

Earlier presentations The Sound Of Music and Peter Pan got decent enough ratings, but were mauled by critics and the butt of a million jokes. People “hate-watched”. The Twitter snark meter nearly broke. The former fought a losing battle of living up to the Julie Andrews classic and had a very weak lead in Carrie Underwood. The latter was crippled, most of all, by the fact that the play itself is just not very good, the score boring. Both pieces were much too staid and wholesome to create excitement. The Wiz was a huge improvement, finally woke up the home audience with catchy toe-tapping numbers and energetic performances.

But Grease, probably the most re-watched sung-along-to film of all time, made the perfect fit. It seemed like a surefire winner from the start. And it was.

Not to say the production itself was perfect. Not at all. Julianne Hough is as bland an actress as Underwood, but without the benefit of the country star’s strong voice. (She shined in the dance numbers though, as expected) The male lead, whose name I can’t even be bothered to Google, was only a bit better on both counts. Keke Palmer as Marty was just out-and-out bad. A lot of the comedy fell flat, especially with no audible reaction from the studio audience. You found yourself cringing sometimes, impatient for the next song. The little rewrites smoothing out the characters’ edges felt clumsy, and Carly Rae Jepson’s shoehorned pop solo was jarringly anachronistic.

The censored lyrics I understand – no “You know it ain’t no shit/I’ll be gettin’ lots of tit” in “Greased Lightning”. Parents were spared having to explain to their little ones what a “pussywagon” is. Makes sense. But predictably, there were still complaints the line “Did she put up a fight?” was left in the song “Summer Nights”…because, well, people are literal-minded humorless idiots.

Also, the PC diversity of the cast was taken to an almost absurd extreme. I realize it’s all fantasy, but who knew that interracial couples were all the rage in the 1950’s? Kids watching must have been confused – why did Tracy need to desegregate the 1960’s dance floor in Hairspray, when Rydell High was already a Utopian rainbow-colored Benetton ad.

(No sooner had my friend decried the offensive lack of an Asian female than one showed up in the final dance member, making us fall off our chairs laughing)

I know, the movie ended with a flying car! This was a fake 70’s interpretation of the 50’s from the start. But at what point do you so lose any sense of verisimilitude that the very premise of the story – greasers vs. jocks, the birth of teenage rebellion – gets completely lost?

I can’t wait for the new version of West Side Story about the warring New York gangs that have absolutely nothing to do with ethnicity.

But overall, the joyful energy and sheer momentum of the production – very kinetic and ambitious – pasted over the flaws and really carried the day. The big gymnasium dance was pretty amazing. (Talk about anachronistic – how about that one “blow-job” dance move that even Dirty Dancing would have nixed?) By the time the big extended finale came, with careening golf carts and cast bows and outdoor crowds, it was impossible not to have a big smile on your face.

And of course, the MVP award goes to Vanessa Hudgens, who absolutely crushed her role as Rizzo only hours after losing her father to cancer. Her emotional rendition of “There Are Worse Things I Could Do” was chill-inducing and deservedly replayed all over the internet the next day. It was one of those moments when an already-known but unappreciated performer becomes a respected, much-loved star overnight. It will be interesting to see how her career explodes from here.

Are these musical “events” a good thing?

I think so. I grew up in Theatre and I like it when it reclaims it’s place in pop culture. I’m actually working on a column about my very strong conviction that more modern Broadway productions – plays as well as musicals – need to be preserved for posterity on video. So I think the more the better. Besides, in an age when TV has fractured into 900 niche channels and almost no program is watched in real time or even on an actual television, isn’t it nice to have live shows we can all watch together? It’s why the Oscars and the Superbowl will always be special viewing experiences. We need that communal campfire now more than ever.

Grease provides some new rules on the way forward. A live studio audience makes an enormous difference – performers really do need that instant feedback, that applause. Otherwise it feels sterile and claustrophobic. Also, get the best performers for the job, not just hip celebrity names you can “sell”. They need to have the experience to pull it off. Hudgens’ recent run on Broadway no doubt gave her that show-must-go-on resilience. Choose musicals that are friendly and fun, but preferably, not just for kids or so kitschy adults feel stupid watching them. It doesn’t hurt for them to be known quantities that invoke a certain warm nostalgia. Guys And Dolls, How To Succeed In Business, Hello Dolly, even Chicago, would be good candidates. But it would also be cool if more recent Broadway hits were adapted for TV as soon as their national tours wrapped.

Obviously, sometimes things will gel, sometimes not. That’s show biz.

But at least now it’s clear the American TV audience has warmed to the concept and can enjoy it beyond just cynical “hate-watching”. So tell us more, tell us more…

And hire Vanessa Hudgens whenever possible.

Formerly The Pussy Wagon…but they’re still excited

For No Good Reason…

When Amsel Met Sally

Just wanted to share this…

Of all Richard Amsel’s movie posters and magazine covers, this simple but intimate portrait of Sally Field is my all-time favorite. I can’t help staring at it.

It’s like a delicate pointillist masterpiece.

Not only does he perfectly capture her face, but the soul behind it – slightly sad and vulnerable. Her eyes wary, even alarmed, with twin reflections of what looks like a lone flame. That small wounded mouth, with those severe cut-like lines on each side I never really noticed before…but which, along with her chipmunk cheeks, are the most distinctive features of her cherubic beauty. .

She looks so exposed, so naked – with only a couple fallen tendrils of hair to protect her.

But so alive I’m waiting for what she’s about to say.

This is what a simple piece of portraiture can do that a photograph cannot – give a deeper feeling of the subject. Hint at something under the skin. Not so simple, not so pretty.

My guess is he sketched this off a publicity photo of the actress in character as Norma Rae, but he somehow managed to create the definitive image of her in real life as well. It’s “unfinished” – intended to be colored and replicated on thousands of tiny little TV Guide covers in 1979, plastered with an address label and used as a coaster for cocktails by tired people who only want to know if tonight’s “M*A*S*H” is a repeat or not. It was a commercial job I’m sure he knocked out in a day or so, gave little thought to – just another paycheck.

But see, a real artist can’t help but create art no matter what the job.

In any case… Every time I see it, I have to stare. Again.

It kills me.

And I’m guessing, somewhere in Florida, a broken old movie star with a black Trans Am for sale is getting very very drunk and staring at it too…

Framed, on his bedroom wall.

Movie Poster Of The Week – The Little Mermaid

This was the beginning.

Besides being a poetic and simple image that nicely sums up the soul of the 1989 film, and a remarkably subtle ad campaign for a kids’ movie in a time when subtlety just wasn’t done, it was also the start of the Second Golden Age Of Animation…which is still going strong today!

You can take a pencil and draw a straight line from this “surprise” Disney hit – when animation as a mainstream genre was all but dead and buried – to Beauty And The Beast, Aladdin, The Lion King, Toy Story, Wall-E, Finding Nemo, Up, Frozen, you name it. From traditional cell animation to computer animation, from musical to non-, from fairy tales to more adult-leaning stories and back to fairy tales again. It was all a creative journey made possible by The Little Mermaid.

I don’t think it’s overstating things to say that if it had bombed on its initial release, perhaps none of those titles – and so many more – would have ever happened.

Pixar itself may not have happened.

That’s how fragile the whole art form was at the time. But after TLM’s critical and commercial success, people in the industry saw, for the first time in decades, the potential for real feature-length entertainment in “cartoons”. And that the movies needn’t be ONLY for kids. Mediocre, cloying, frantic. They could be richer and deeper than that. They could actually make adults laugh too…and cry…and think – all of it, there were no limits if the storytelling was strong enough.

It may also be my favorite animated movie of all time.

It just works on pretty much every level from start to finish. The music by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman is a large part of its success. The talented duo brought Broadway-quality songs back to Disney, songs that are still catchy 26 years later. While that stage-musical format would eventually go through many changes, it created a tighter three-act structure that became the foundation for all modern animated films (watch the old ones and see how slack and static they feel, often with barely any plot) and you see in the mega-hit Frozen that songs can still play an enormous role.

The screenwriters, the directors, the animators, the voice actors, the musicians, live-action models (including Sherri Stoner as Ariel), all did spectacular work to bring this story to life, and it stands today as an absolute classic.

On top of everything else, Ariel is probably the cutest sexiest Disney princess of them all.

I’m a sucker for the redheads.

And clam-shell bras.

–RR

A Non-Fan Feels The Force Again

When it comes to appreciating the new STAR WARS trailer, I think it helps to be a non-fan like me.

I’ve never been much of a Sci-Fi or fantasy guy. I can enjoy both genres, and blends thereof, in moderation; but overall they have never been, generally speaking, “my thing”.

I feel like that frees me up to savor the good stuff and just shrug off all the crap.

The first teaser for THE FORCE AWAKENS gave me goosebumps. The new one, though obviously trying to contain expectations and keep secrets, feels just as confident and evocative.

By highlighting the same few early scenes and not revealing any story, JJ Abrams is clearly intent on keeping the actual moviegoing experience “pure”. I like that. We live in a time where we regularly go to a movie knowing way too much ahead of time. And, after all, what do you really NEED to know about the plot anyway? It’s STAR WARS, stupid.

The true fans are getting hung-up on details – like, Why have the Jedi already been forgotten? What did Darth Vader start that needs to be continued? Where is Luke? Blah blah blah. Who gives a green ewok shit?? They are too close to it to see the big picture. What matters is the TONE. It feels right in line with the epic awe and earnestness of the original trilogy, while at the same time introducing new characters and actually moving the story forward at long last.

The cherry on top is to see Harrison Ford looking like he’s just as excited and glad to be back as we are. And PS, it’s about time we appreciate this legendary movie star – maybe our last – while we still have him around. I say, screw his age, give the man one more decent Indiana Jones movie as well! Bring on the Blade Runner sequel! He has every right to exploit his past successes. Because he still has, in spades, that inexplicable something that makes him a larger-than-life hero.

Chewie? It’s okay…Lucas is gone

But nope, I’m not a STAR WARS fan.

I’ve never owned a book, a toy, a poster – none of it.

I was 14 when the original came out – a hair too old, I think, to completely fall under its spell. I always say it just missed me. It wasn’t the formative life-changing experience it was for people even a year or two younger. (For me, that would be JAWS; there’s a very thin but distinct ‘generation gap’ between those two films…both of which are blamed, erroneously, for killing off the era of personal filmmaking) A NEW HOPE just felt too silly and broad to me, like a “Disney movie” – which, in 1977, was ironically the worst of insults. Still, there was no denying the eye-dazzling special effects, or the feel-good Death Star climax, which left the audience walking out on air.

And oh yeah, those light-sword thingies were cool as hell.

So, while I understood when it became the global sensation it did, I also felt a little outside the hoopla, immune to all the hype…

Then THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK followed in 1980 and completely blew me away. It was so much darker, funnier, sexier, weirder, wittier (thanks to Lawrence Kasdan) and there was a genuine opening-up of a larger and more mysterious universe. Suddenly I got it. I was hooked. Any love I have for the series – other than John Williams’ genius – comes from EMPIRE and EMPIRE alone. In my opinion, it’s the one truly great film in the series and no other chapter has ever come close.

RETURN OF THE JEDI had its share of visual thrills, but was ultimately a huge disappointment. Just finding out that under Darth Vader’s cool helmet was a drippy old white guy who looked like a cracked hard-boiled egg was enough to kill the buzz.

And let’s not even talk about the prequels… They’re just god-awful, period.

Who, me?

The sheer weight of their failure and the massive denial on the part of the diehard fans was bigger than any cinematic car crash I have ever seen in my life.

It became a fascinating paradox for a non-fan to watch from a distance. Lucas had given birth to an entire universe, created this enduring mythology, and then, through his own utter incompetence as a writer and director, had single-handedly destroyed it. The joke about “Lucas raped my childhood” may have been hyperbolic and in bad taste, but it wasn’t far off the truth. The only hope for STAR WARS was if Lucas let go of it and passed the reins to a better storyteller.

And to his eternal credit, he did just that.

Whether it was exhaustion, frustration or just the payday that motivated him ($4 billion), Lucas did not just hold onto the rights out of spite.

So whether this one film can possibly live up to all the expectations of the true fans is almost beside the point. There are a half dozen other spin-offs already in the works. The universe is alive again. It will go on and on. It will pass through many different hands and expand accordingly.

Now 100% Lucas-Free! That’s good news no matter what.

A New Hope, indeed.

–RR

The End Of An Error? (Updated)

Post-Finale Update At The Bottom.

Those were the days…

Not the 1960’s, mind you – but 2007, 2008 and 2009, when Mad Men changed television with its sexy retro-cool and provocative storytelling that snapped, crackled and popped.

It was great stuff. Instantly addictive, refreshingly intelligent.

Watching the last lurching, listless, seemingly random episodes of this great series has filled me with a nostalgia for the first three or four near-perfect seasons. The show stumbled before but always reclaimed it’s greatness when it counted – I’m hoping creator Matt Weiner pulls a similar rabbit out of his hat on the series finale tonight. But it’s hard to see how he will pull it off. Unlike Breaking Bad, which packed its last half-season with one jaw-dropping show after another, all story momentum seems to have been lost over Mad Men‘s long hiatus. Obviously, it’s a very different kind of show. It doesn’t have a life-or-death crime plot to lean on for excitement. But what made Mad Men special from the start was the way it turned the small everyday moments into an adventure of movie-sized triumphs and epic defeats.

Now it seems all the air has leaked out of the show.

There’s no urgency to any of it. The characters all seem worn down, with nothing to win or lose, nothing left to say.

The entire season feels like one giant shrug.

It’s all right for Don to wander the country aimlessly, but shouldn’t the show know where it’s going? Shouldn’t we feel further along? The last hour may turn out to be a masterpiece, but I can’t help feeling that Weiner and his writing staff ran out of ideas somehow – and missed a real opportunity to send the characters spinning into new orbits at the start of a strange new decade.

Betty’s cancer is the perfect example. Yes, it fits with the times and pays off on the tobacco theme of the show. Somebody had to pay for all that chain smoking. But Betty’s reaction is so cold and casual as to be unbelievable. The character has been given short-shrift for seasons and even facing the end she isn’t allowed any real growth as a person or last-minute revelation/regret. If that’s the case, what’s the point? Even if you think it speaks to the brutal reality of life, it still feels arbitrary. In the parlance of the era, it’s a cop-out.

Joan’s struggle against corporate sexism felt much more on target, but also lacked something. How did her relationship with Roger get so watered down that he didn’t even try to come to her defense? And if that’s a sad comment on him, then make it. It just felt like lazy writing.

Peggy at least gets to contemplate on the child she gave up for adoption years ago and gets a killer slow-mo entrance into the agency, where, let’s face it, she is clearly doomed.

Instead of chasing after his “lost” diner waitress, wouldn’t it have made more sense for Don to go to bat for one or both of his female colleagues? Wouldn’t that have given his quitting the agency more purpose? I liked that we saw him realizing (finally) the emptiness of the ad biz, but what I can’t for the life of me figure out why, with the clock ticking down, you would waste Don’s and our time with a bunch of people we don’t know or have any emotional stake in…

Yes, these are all middle-aged characters going through an identity crisis, but all the more reason they should be fighting the dying of the light, whether literal or figurative.

At least Pete was given a sudden epiphany. Too bad the acting and direction felt so stilted.

Roger playing the organ while Peggy roller skated around him was a beautifully odd tableau, one of those iconic Mad Men moments, but it only highlighted how dull the rest of it has become.

I know, I know…all this bitching seems petty when you’re talking about what is, on the whole, one of the great television series of all time. I would easily put it in my Top Five. Its place in history is secure and, over time, we will remember it only for the sheer brilliance of it’s best days. And wow, what a run. Maintaining such high quality for so long is a huge accomplishment.

If it limps across the finish line, it’s hardly the first series to do that and it won’t be the last.

Nevertheless… Of course… I will be there tonight. In front of the TV one more time. With a drink in my hand even if Don is sober.

Expectations lowered, yes, but savoring every last damn minute of it.

Update:

Well, it wasn’t a masterpiece, but overall I would say the series finale was a success…

It did a good job, at least, of wrapping up most of the supporting characters’ stories. And a certain grudging satisfaction seemed to be the general consensus from critics and fans alike the day after. Maybe we were so braced for grimness, the happy endings were a hard-won relief.

Betty is still dying, but at least she was allowed to be human and have a very touching moment with Don over the phone. Sally was also clearly stepping up to the plate to take care of her mother (still smoking) and, even more importantly, her little brothers. Instant adulthood, as often happens.

I especially liked how they flipped our expectations on Peggy and Joan. Joan gave up a relationship to start a business and become the boss that she always knew she could and should be, and Peggy found that work and love didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. The phone scene with her and Stan can be forgiven for being a little too on-the-nose and Romantic Comedy 101 because…well, it was just nice to see her end up happy. And with someone who respected her talent.

Best of all was Roger and his crazy French wife – a perfect match. His worst nemesis was always boredom and with her that won’t be a problem. Also, they finally gave us a scene of him and Joan where he took full responsibility for their son’s future…the “little bastard”.

All of this made Don’s story, ironically, feel like the weakest part of the episode.

His “journey” continued to feel meandering and bizarre. I still don’t understand certain choices the writers made. For starters, couldn’t this would-be spiritual awakening have happened a few episodes ago? Why did they wait so long to get him to California and then make it more of an accident than a choice on his part? His breakdown on the phone with Peggy and then later when he hugged the poor balding-average version of himself in therapy were both strong moments…but not as much as they could have been if Weiner and Company had built a better foundation throughout the season. That’s my feeling anyway. It felt inevitable in a way, but it should have been executed better.

The final reveal of the famous Coke ad tied it up with just enough ambiguity. It sparked a lot of debate, which a good ending probably should. Some people saw it as a kind of victory – Don got his shit together, got back to what he did best, used his experience to fuel a revolutionary ad campaign and became an even bigger legend in the industry; while others saw it as cold and cynical – whatever sincere breakthrough Don had felt was cheapened and reduced to a smarmy ad exploiting the hippies he hated. (That grin while he was meditating did seem more like a smirk than a eureka moment)

However you look at it, he went back to McCann-Erickson and, despite all his flakiness, they took him back. Because he’s just that good. In fact, it could be argued that all Don really is when all is said and done is an enigma with a genius gift for advertising.

Maybe, Weiner asks, that’s enough. Does he need to be or do anything else?

Most of us would kill to be truly great at just one thing. Don is that wish come true, for better or worse. Otherwise, his life is a lot of random strangers and a false identity. And that applies to the show as well…

It was genius, even as its meaning slips through your fingers.

RIP Mad Men. I’ll miss the enigma.

Movie Poster Of The Week – The Abominable Dr. Phibes

A beautiful sentiment, don’t you think?

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) was one of the first real horror movies I ever saw as a kid. I remember the very British mixture of gore and humor were a little confusing to my undeveloped brain. But how can you not love a film where a man gets his face eaten off by locusts?

This poster catches that dark satirical tone perfectly – parodying, of course, the trite catch phrase from Love Story: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry”,

I actually own a psychedelic version of the poster made just for black light. Ahh, the 70’s.

“Misty? Yeah, I don’t know how to play that…”

The plot, you ask? Look at that face – does it matter?

The bad doctor, with the help of his sexy female assistant, gets revenge on the men who he holds responsible for his wife’s death. He does it in increasingly novel and vicious ways using the Plagues of Egypt as his inspiration – you know, as one does. Hilarity ensues.

Those darn authorities

Now pristine on Blu-ray, I recommend you check it out if you’ve never seen it. At this point in his career, Vincent Price had a healthy irreverence for his legendary B-movie status and this movie sees him having a ball, reveling in every over-the-top moment.

But as Don McLean once sang:…

Vincent, this world was never meant for one as ugly as you.

“Wait. Let me go get my lips.”

Monty Python And The Unfinished Business

Tonight Monty Python completed their tenth and final show at the O2 stadium in London – which means the iconic comedy troupe have performed for what is likely the very last time.

Predictably, the shows received mostly cynical eye-rolls from the English press – complaints about the lack of new material, how it was nothing but a blatant cash grab (something, in true Python tradition, they cop to unabashedly) and that they are, after all, just a bunch of old men now.

Well…except for the dead one.

But just like the thousands of diehard fans that bought out every show, I would have gladly paid the price and lined up to see my comedy heroes in one last hurrah.

It’s hard to overstate what these “old men” mean to me.

It’s harder still to overstate what they mean in the history of comedy.

When you track the influence of their work over the last four decades, starting with sketch-show offspring Saturday Night Live and SCTV and the huge amount of talent spawned there, and extending all the way to a general tone of meta adult silliness that has become the standard in humor, I would contend it is as vast and far-reaching as The Beatles had on music.

But in 1975, my introduction to Python was, to say the least, inauspicious – just a handwritten note taped where a movie poster was supposed to be.

I was on summer vacation in Los Angeles with my father and we were standing outside a twin theatre in Westwood. In one glass display case was a glossy color poster for Smile, Michael Ritchie’s black comedy about beauty pageants.

In the other glass case, was a small scrap of notebook paper where someone in a hurry had scribbled seemingly random words –

We stared blankly. The words could not have made less sense to us.

I was already a huge movie buff – the only 12 year-old in Colorado with a subscription to Weekly Variety – so my Dad asked if I had ever heard of this Monty Python guy. I shrugged and shook my head, imagining only a cartoon snake. I didn’t know what a Holy Grail was either. Or any Grail, for that matter. To be honest, the sloppy nature of the sign was almost scary, like a kind of a dare. I mean, who walks into a dark theatre for a movie that doesn’t even have a poster??

We opted for Smile, of course – which turned out to be a fairly minor 70’s satire.

But the irony was that the Pythons would have heartily approved of the movie’s best and darkest joke. A woman walks in on her mild-mannered, depressed husband as he holds a gun to his head, about to commit suicide. She yells at him to stop, that this is not the answer to his problems. He agrees and shoots her instead. I laughed out loud, instinctively, a kneejerk reaction to the shock of the moment – which was, of course, the intent of the scene. But my Dad just as instinctively hushed me. “That’s not funny”, he said. I caught myself and immediately felt guilty.

(I can’t imagine how my father would have reacted to the infamous Black Knight scene in Holy Grail where John Cleese gets his arms and legs cut off, complete with arterial spray)

Looking back now, it was like a portent of my taste for Python.

It was the first time I realized I might have a different sense of humor from my parents; that I (and my whole generation) was ready – hungry really – for something with more of an edge.

Soon after I got home, I stumbled onto the Flying Circus shows on PBS. They were hard to miss really. We only had five measly channels in those days and every time you went around the dial there was this strange badly-lit British craziness forcing you to stop and gawk.

By the time they re-released Holy Grail months later – with posters this time – I realized what I had missed in LA. I rushed out on a Saturday morning to see the first screening of the day and found myself completely alone in the theatre. Before I knew it, I was laughing out loud with total abandon. Then so hard I actually fell out of my chair. I was on my hands and knees in the aisle, convulsing soundlessly, except for the occasional hitching noise as I gasped for air. My face hurt. There were no adults or even fellow audience members necessary to tell me what was funny – I knew.

When the movie ended abruptly, the film itself seeming to break, I must have sat there for a good five minutes, glancing back at the projection booth and wondering if I should complain…before I finally realized it was just one last Python joke on the audience. I loved the bastards even more.

To this day, I think Holy Grail is their masterpiece.

Pound for pound, laugh for laugh, it may just be the funniest movie ever made.

Nowhere else have I seen intellectual wit and anarchic stupidity married to such perfection.

And it never dates – it is just as fresh and crazy today as ever.

Like many early Python adopters, it felt like a private obsession. I don’t remember ever sharing it with anybody else until I got to college. It’s hard to believe now, but Python was not mainstream at all – they were the rude upstarts, the sick and twisted weirdos. (For one thing, they sure dressed up as women a lot!) Their fans were nerds, social outcasts. They didn’t rely on the drug humor or political references of their hip American counterparts, but they weren’t old school clowns either. This was still the era of The Carol Burnett Show and Dean Martin roasts. The Pythons were way too smart and subversive for the unwashed masses – it took a long time for everyone to get the joke.

It was a full four years after Holy Grail that Life Of Brian was released, their hilarious attack on blind religious faith (The sandal! No, the gourd!), and it would become their highest grossing film. It was another three years before Live At The Hollywood Bowl – a concert film, not a ‘real’ movie – and one more until The Meaning Of Life, which, I have to say, was a soul-crushing letdown to me at the time. And that was it…they were done. They split up to pursue their individual careers. Graham Chapman died in 1989. The fans got the occasional crumb here and there – culminating with their last inspired comic setpiece: the “accidental” spilling of Graham’s ashes at the Aspen Comedy Festival. But the cold hard truth was the party ended far, far too soon. Especially for us Americans who came late to the party to begin with…

Despite a wealth of material from the original TV shows, the records, the books, the films, I always felt cheated somehow. It all seemed strangely incomplete. Unfinished.

I realized my appetite for all things Python was pretty much unquenchable when even a six-hour documentary made in 2010 left me unsatisfied.

I would probably only be happy if I spent days with them over beers in a pub, asking questions and listening to them reminisce. Maybe even that wouldn’t do it.

You can never get quite enough of your heroes, I guess.

So, when I heard they were reuniting one last time – if only to get some retirement money and take a final bow – I was glad. What’s wrong with a live audience letting them know before they shuffle off their mortal coils just how much they were and are loved…and what a huge gift they gave us?

They deserved an encore.

I needed it too.