‘Gold Diggers of 1933’ And The Allure of Pre-Code Cinema

By Danny Bowes

Witness the rise of a star, Joan Blondell, in a deeply fascinating era of film history.

Joan Blondell would likely object to her 101st birthday being celebrated today, insisting it was only her 98th. Were she to make this case to me, either in person or especially on the movie screen, I would concede, and print the legend. Because she is one.

The thing about loving movies—one of them at least, there are as many things about loving movies as there are grains of sand on a beach or stars in the sky—is loving all of their possible forms. Which is why when people talk of “old” movies I always bristle a bit, because there’s no such thing as “old” movies, merely ones that were made before other movies. The circumstances, be they cultural or logistical, that contributed to them being made a certain way, are often as fascinating as the movies themselves, which is true even before we get to a lot of the dumb generalizations about “old” movies that pervade. They are not boring. They are especially not boring in the Pre-Code era, the window between the advent of sound and the enforcement of the restrictive Hays Code. Pre-Code movies rule. They just do. Seek out as many as you can find. You’re welcome. This brings us back to Joan Blondell, whose debut and ascent in the movie business took place in the Pre-Code era, and one of her particularly great and important films, Gold Diggers of 1933.

Gold Diggers of 1933 yields a particularly acute strain of one of the great experiences of watching movies from the medium’s formative years, the thrill of witnessing origin. The birth of the timeless and eternal feels both paradoxical and natural, seeing the first iteration of things long since passed into tradition, that you have seen so many times before, and yet now as if for the first time. The cinema in which Gold Diggers of 1933 was a popular hit with popular actors was a young cinema, bursting with the energy of invention, an art form that had only recently taken flight, still exhilarated by its ability to fly.

The four women for whom the film is titled are the lifeblood of show business, the people who love the illusions of it so dearly and unshakably that they keep pushing the rock up the mountain because there is simply no other way to live. When the movie begins, they are in need of a show to put on. Fate delivers them a show. Fate subsequently throws a couple curveballs. But the show goes on because that is what the show must do. There is no other way for the show to go. The gold diggers may superficially be out to land rich husbands, but that is icing on the cake. The cake is the show. (This cake is not a lie.)

For most of its running time, Gold Diggers of 1933 is almost giddy with the joy of show business, bouncing around magically on the strength of its zippy story and energetic performances, and on the glorious Busby Berkeley production numbers (Busby Berkeley is one of the very best things that ever happened to movies). But it goes out, denouement aside, on a bold and daring note, one that could not have been struck with as much grace without Joan Blondell. The song “Remember My Forgotten Man” directly addresses the dire straits in which the America of 1933 found itself, the very Great Depression to which films like Gold Diggers of 1933 were meant to be an antidote. And Blondell—though Etta Moten’s contributions should not and can not be ignored—sells the the severity of the number with just as much style and grace as she does the romance and comedy that led to that point.

This is not a zero-sum statement, as this is true of many other performers, but the point of these remarks is that it is true of this piece’s subject: Joan Blondell embodied show business. “Show business,” in this case, being the meeting point of the performing arts, the creative arts, and commerce. The first two elements need each other more than they need the third, but at a certain point, for certain career paths, entertainment is a job, and in order to properly entertain, you have to mean it, and in order to mean it, you have to mean it even if you don’t. To carve out a career for oneself means showing up and putting in the work, and being good enough at it that people still want to see you. Joan Blondell could do it all: sing, dance, play comedy, play drama. She did the work for decades, and even to the end, she was still doing it with that singular style and grace. Look her up. Check it out. She’s the truth.

The article ‘Gold Diggers of 1933’ And The Allure of Pre-Code Cinema appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Read More

First Trailer for Wiseman's Doc 'Ex Libris' About the NY Public Library

"This is a place that's meant to be used by people who make things." Who doesn't love the library? Zipporah Films has released the first official trailer for the documentary Ex Libris: New York Public Library, the latest from legendary documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman. As the title clearly indicates, this doc is about the beloved, famous New York Public Library, probably best known in pop culture from the original Ghostbuster movies (the opening sequence takes place there). Wiseman's extensive 4-hour film examines the history and the legacy of the library, taking us inside the walls and down the many corridors. Did you know that the New York Public Library system actually has 92 branches spread around the five boroughs? This seems like an utterly fascinating and sublime doc about the glory of libraries, and the power they have.

First trailer for Frederick Wiseman's documentary Ex Libris: New York Public Library, on YouTube:

The legendary doc filmmaker brings his incisive vision behind the scenes of one of the world's greatest institutions of learning, capturing the vast programmatic scope of NYC's library system. The NYPL is blessed with uniformly passionate staff and deeply devoted, appreciative bibliophiles and beneficiaries across its 92 branches. The film reveals a venerable place of welcome, cultural exchange, and intellectual creativity. Ex Libris: New York Public Library is directed by legendary documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman, of many films including Titicut Follies, High School, Law and Order, Hospital, Missile, Blind, Ballet, Public Housing, The Garden, La Danse, Crazy Horse, At Berkeley, National Gallery, and In Jackson Heights previously. This will first premiere at the Venice and Toronto Film Festivals this month. Zipporah Films will then open Frederick Wiseman's Ex Libris in select theaters starting September 13th. Curious?

Read More

25 Signs Your Character is About to Die

By Ciara Wardlow

If one or more of these apply to you, I’m afraid I have some bad news.

Maybe you’re a fan favorite, someone viewers have wanted dead since you first stepped on screen, or just some random minor character nobody cares all that much about. Regardless, if some of the following sound familiar to you, you should probably start preparing your goodbyes:

1. You promised to come back alive.

“We’ll talk later.” “You can’t get rid of me.” “I’ll be right back.” “Don’t worry.” All of these statements are code for “hold my beer, I’m about to go skewer myself on the nearest pointy thing.” If you made a statement of this nature to appease an anxious significant other or especially a child, all bets are off. I’m afraid you just signed your own death warrant, friend.

EXAMPLES: Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon (Game of Thrones)

2. You are the Most Important Person to a character in need of a heavy dose of angst.

Significant others (wives especially) are the most common targets, but parents, children, siblings, and mentors can all also succumb to this incredibly dangerous condition. Look at it this way: you’re just too good at what you do. You make this other person very happy, but the plot requires said person to not be happy anymore—and, unfortunately for you, the plot does not require you alive. You’ve got a decent chance of coming back in heartstring and/or plot twisting flashbacks or as a ghostly apparition to torment this person, though, so at least there’s that.

EXAMPLES: Rachel Dawes (The Dark Knight), Mal Cobb (Inception), Leonard’s wife (Memento)—almost everything Christopher Nolan’s ever done, really—Shmi Skywalker (Star Wars), Grace Shelby (Peaky Blinders), Magneto’s mother/family (X-Men: First Class, X-Men: Apocalypse), Tracy Mills (Se7en)… this is a really, really popular one.

3. You have just told us all about your future.

Or, in other words, all the reasons you want to live—you’ve got big dreams, a family to get back to, etc., etc., etc. While I certainly understand, dear soldier in a trench, why you are waxing poetic about the girl waiting for you back home and the pretty white picket fence your future home will have—oh, and look, you even have a picture, isn’t that sweet—you have pretty much just guaranteed that white picket fence will never exist outside of your imagination. Look at it this way—why would the audience need to know about what you’re going to do if you’re going to be around for them to see you do it? …Exactly.

EXAMPLES: Robb Stark (Game of Thrones), Andrew Henry (The Revenant)

4. You have just told us all about your past.

Perhaps you’re usually more of a peripheral figure or just not the most talkative of individuals, but you’ve just given a rather long and enlightening speech about your backstory and why you are the way you are. It’s almost as if you’re trying to squeeze in addressing any and all questions the audience might have about you while you’re still around to answer them… hmm.

EXAMPLES: Yoren (Game of Thrones)

5. You are the mentor of a budding young hero.

Don’t blame me. Blame Joseph Campbell. It doesn’t explicitly state in The Hero With a Thousand Faces or other sources laying out the Hero’s Journey that you have to die, but it’s pretty implicit. Like with #2, you can almost take it as a compliment—you’re just too good at what you do. If you were around with all your knowledge and skill and wisdom, our designated hero would never get to do much hero-ing because you’re just so much better at it. Besides, if you did stick around, you’d probably keep our young hero from making stupid life choices—which, logically, sounds like a good thing, but considering that’s where about 80% of the adventure in most adventure storylines comes from, you and your sage advice must come to an end.

EXAMPLES: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Han Solo (Star Wars), Dumbledore (Harry Potter), The Ancient One (Doctor Strange)

6. You are the hypotenuse of a love triangle stuck in a stalemate.

You and Person A both love Person B. Unfortunately for Person A, you got there first—perhaps even put a ring on it. Kicking you to the curb without due cause would be out of character for Person B, and you have no intention of giving Person B due cause. However, very unfortunately for you, the powers that be totally want Person A and Person B to end up together, meaning you have got to go.

EXAMPLES: Lavinia (to make way for Mary/Matthew, Downton Abbey), Neal (Emma/Hook, Once Upon a Time), The Mother (Ted/Robin, How I Met Your Mother)

7. You have outlived your usefulness.

Whether you have outlived your usefulness as a henchman to the villain (or just more generally plot-wise), do not be surprised if you are paid for your troubles with a bullet to the head. If you reach the point where viewers start wondering “what are you doing here?” the answer might be that you won’t be around much longer.

EXAMPLES: Most of the Joker’s henchmen/associates (The Dark Knight), Bane really likes this one too (The Dark Knight Rises). James Bond villains also approve of this strategy.

8. Your redemptive arc needs a checkmate.

The later along in the storyline your redemptive arc appears, the less likely you are to survive it. Odds are you will survive for a little while after switching sides to provide a source of tension for our band of heroes (there’s always at least one of them that will not trust you). However, if the powers that be intend for the moral of the story to be that you are really a good person after all, you will need to prove it, and nothing says “I am one of the good guys” like a heroic sacrifice. Taking a killing blow for one of our heroes is quite common (see #24), but just dying more generally for the cause is also an option. On the bright side, there’s a good chance your death scene will be a show-stealer. Not a dry eye in the house. And that one guy who never trusted you will probably feel guilty—or, at the very least, admit to being wrong. Score one for ghost-you.

EXAMPLES: Nux (Mad Max: Fury Road), Severus Snape (Harry Potter), Yondu (Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2), Boromir (The Lord of the Rings), Detective Will Dormer (Insomnia), Vesper Lynd (Casino Royale)

9. You are on a Very Dangerous mission… and the most disposable of the fellowship.

You are on a dangerous adventure, and in order to prove that this quest is truly treacherous, somebody has got to die to set the tone. And not just some redshirts either—a real character, with an actual name and everything. Sadly for you, out of all your companions, your death would be the biggest that would not require a major swing in the narrative.

EXAMPLES: Wells Jaha (The 100), Boromir (The Lord of the Rings), Thoros of Myr (Game of Thrones)

10. You are friends with a bad luck charm.

In this dialed-up-to-eleven version of #2 on this list, you have befriended—or even worse, started dating—one of those characters who is followed around by Death like it’s their loyal pet dog, but is somehow immune. You, however, are not—and yet, you are standing well within the blast radius. IT’S ALMOST LIKE YOU WANT TO DIE, YOU FOOL.

EXAMPLES: Don’t kiss Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Carribean). Or date Emma Swan (Once Upon a Time). Or sleep with Sam Winchester (Supernatural). Or marry Margaery Tyrell (Game of Thrones). Or mentor Harry Potter.

11. You just went to investigate a weird noise. In the dark. On your own.

To be fair, if this is the end for you it really is your own damn fault.

EXAMPLES: Most of the horror genre.

12. You are likable but disposable, and the Big Bad needs to establish his street cred.

In this companion to #9, it is not the general situation or adventure that needs to be proven dangerous, but the evil being (human or otherwise) that our surviving characters will have to face. In order to demonstrate that the Big Bad should actually make the audience feel nervous, he needs to prove his ability to kill likable characters of some importance. Sorry, Barb.

EXAMPLES: Barb (Stranger Things)

13. You just figured out the plot twist. 

Go, you! You totally figured out that huge secret! Unfortunately for you, there are a lot of people out there who would like it to remain secret, and/or the powers that be would like some other characters to flail in suspense for a little while longer (how will they ever learn if they don’t figure things out for themselves?). The place where “curiosity killed the cat” meets “dead men tell no tales.”

EXAMPLES: Robert Angier (The Prestige), Ned Stark (Game of Thrones)

14. You are the bad guy… and standing on the edge of a cliff.

Disney might have this down to an art form, but they don’t have a monopoly. That said: if you find yourself in an animated land, facing off against a sweet, innocent young girl capable of talking to animals, and would like to actually win, avoid mountains, canyons, or anywhere else that features a significant drop-off. Or at least watch your step. You’d think after eighty plus years of this someone would think to add it to the curriculum at the Villain School of Cheekbones and Mustache-Twirling, but I digress.

EXAMPLES: Evil Queen (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty), Gaston (Beauty and the Beast), Clayton (Tarzan), Charles Muntz (Up), Gollum (The Lord of the Rings)

15. It is the final shoot-out, and you are not top billed.

Second billed has a hope. What if your name is not even on the poster, you ask? Well… it was nice knowing you.

EXAMPLES: Just about every Western ever, along with Tarantino’s everything.

16. You are being played by one of those actors.

You know, the ones who never fare very well. And while Sean Bean might be the most meme-able, he is far from alone.

EXAMPLES: According to an article over at Nerdist back in 2014, John Hurt holds the record for most screen deaths (43), followed by Bela Lugosi, Vincent Price, and then finally Sean Bean. However, if you look at the deaths-per-film average, Sean Bean and Bela Lugosi tie for first with 0.32 deaths/film (though this was back in 2014, so with more recent projects included, Sean Bean’s personal death rate might be slightly lower), shortly followed by John Hurt and Mickey Rourke with 0.31 deaths/film.

17. You are being played by a big actor who nobody realized was in this film and/or seems like they would be beyond the film’s budget.

Especially if said actor does not appear or has very limited appearances in promotional materials. From the perspective of a viewer, it usually ends up going a little something like this: “Wait what, Guy Pearce is in The Hurt Locker? How did I not kn—never mind, I get it now.”

EXAMPLES: Sergeant Matt Thompson (The Hurt Locker), Bill Murray (Zombieland), Lor San Tekka (Star Wars: The Force Awakens), Ryan Reynolds’ unnamed character (A Million Ways to Die in the West)

18. Things have started moving in slow motion.

It’s a battle and things are moving very fast. They need to be slowed down so that the audience can see with absolute certainty that it is you who is dying, not Redshirt McCannonFodder the 25^th, and that you are in fact dying. This is not a drill. ‘Tis not just a flesh wound.

Examples: Boromir (The Lord of the Rings), Bonnie and Clyde (Bonnie & Clyde), “Priest” Vallon (Gangs of New York), Sergeant Elias (Platoon)

19. The score just got really dramatic, sad, or quiet all of a sudden.

Movies and television shows like to tell—or at least, strongly suggest—the audience how to feel through sound. Or lack of sound. Often paired with #18, because while nothing says “feel the despair” like a slow-motion scream, the actual sound of someone screaming slowed down just sounds ridiculous.

EXAMPLES: The “Death is the Road to Awe” montage in The Fountain might be the ultimate this-is-heavy-handed-but-holy-shit-it’s-so-beautiful-I-don’t-even-mind example of this, on the other end Finnick’s death in Mockingjay – Part 2 is a this-is-so-heavy-handed-I’m-not-even-sure-you’re-taking-it-seriously-anymore kind of example.

20. You are the youngest/most innocent/lovable one. In a war film.

War is hell. As there are usually no puppies around a war zone, killing the most puppy-like human to prove the absolute horror and depravity of war will have to suffice. Which, in this instance, means you.

EXAMPLES: George (Dunkirk), Tyrone “Mr. Clean” Miller (Apocalypse Now), Petya Rostov (War & Peace)

21. You just started coughing. In a period piece.

Penicillin is still a twinkle in the eye of a moldy loaf of bread. Goodbye.

EXAMPLES: Satine (Moulin Rouge!), Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Finding Neverland), the majority of novels written in the Victorian era and their respective adaptations.

22. You’re the anti-hero (or flat-out villain) protagonist and it’s the series finale.

In all of the finales of seasons past you managed to weasel your way out of near-to-certain death through cunning, daring, ruthlessness, and no small amount of luck. You had to, after all—you are the only thing holding your criminal empire together, and the series was not over yet. But there are no more seasons left. You are more than smart enough to figure out what I’m getting at here.

EXAMPLES: Walter White (Breaking Bad), Nucky Thompson (Boardwalk Empire)

23. It’s a dark or “edgy” comedy and you are a cat.

Why can’t the dog get it? I don’t understand it either, Whiskers, but unfortunately for you that’s the way it is.

EXAMPLES: Grand Budapest Hotel, The Boondock Saints, Reno 911!

24. You took a blow for someone else.

Though not dying would likely be your preferred outcome, it would also undermine your big heroic sacrifice. That’s not to say it never happens, just that it’s very unlikely. Usually, they will leave you just enough time to share heartfelt dying words with the person you saved, so make sure to have something good prepared.

EXAMPLES: Mary Watson (Sherlock), Pietro Maximoff (Avengers: Age of Ultron)

25. You are really damn old.

Every once in a while, characters actually die of old age. It doesn’t happen particularly often—the Cinemorgue Wiki, which as it turns out is a thing that actually exists (and yes, is exactly what it says on the tin) features fewer deaths scenes from old age (445) than burning (1,834), decapitation (1,094), being eaten alive (511), electrocution (650), and monster attack (805)—just to name a few—but it can happen.

EXAMPLES: Peggy Carter (Captain America: Civil War), Aemon Targaryen (Game of Thrones)

The article 25 Signs Your Character is About to Die appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Read More

First Brief Teaser Trailer for Alexander Payne's New Film 'Downsizing'

"The world is filled with things to see." Paramount has debuted the first short teaser trailer for Alexander Payne's Downsizing, which is premiering at the Venice Film Festival today (hence why this trailer is out). This social satire from Payne is a hugely ambitious film where, sometime in the future, the Norwegians have invented a method to shrink humans down to a very small size - about 4 inches. The story follows Matt Damon and Kristen Wiig as a married couple who decide to get the procedure in order to live a happier, better life in a tiny city – and save the environment while at it. The cast includes Christoph Waltz, Laura Dern, Jason Sudeikis, Neil Patrick Harris, Udo Kier, Kerri Kenney, and Hong Chau. It is a totally wacky film but it has so much to say, and it's unlike anything you've ever seen. Put this on your radar now.

Here's the first teaser trailer for Alexander Payne's Downsizing, direct from Paramount's YouTube:

Downsizing follows a kindly occupational therapist who undergoes a new procedure to be shrunken to four inches tall so that he and his wife can help save the planet and afford a nice lifestyle at the same time. Downsizing is directed by acclaimed American filmmaker Alexander Payne, of the films Citizen Ruth, Election, About Schmidt, Sideways, The Descendants, and Nebraska previously. The screenplay is written by Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor. This is premiering at the Venice and Toronto Film Festivals. Paramount will then release Downsizing in select theaters starting December 22nd later this year. First impression?

Read More

[The Daily] Venice + Toronto 2017: Payne’s Downsizing

“Can there be any clearer signal of reality warping as we hurtle toward imminent apocalypse than the fact that Alexander Payne has made a life-affirming film?” asks Jessica Kiang at the Playlist. “Venice opener Downsizing takes the long road . . .

Read More

Read More

The Beautiful Lies of Robert J. Flaherty’s "Moana with Sound"

Close-Up is a feature that spotlights films now playing on MUBI. Robert Flaherty's Moana with Sound (1926 / 1980) is playing August 30 - September 29, 2017 on MUBI in most countries around the world.

Slowly, slowly, the tufunga taps his comb of bone needles into the young man’s lower back. His movements are practiced and precise, each tap marking the young man for the rest of his days. The young man winces in agony, sweat pouring down his face as his relatives wipe away the blood and excess ink with tapa cloth. A witch-woman stokes a fire and burns candlenut stalks to make more soot for the tufunga’s ink. The infernal tapping continues, now on his upper back, now on his flanks, now on his knees—the most painful part of the ceremony. Outside the hut, a crowd of men dance and sing. “Courage to Moana,” they cry, “Courage to Moana!” Among them are the young man’s little brother Pe’a. Days before they had played together on the coast of their island, collecting coconuts and hunting crabs. But now the older brother writhes in his parents’ arms and the younger dances and dances in his honor. For days the tapping continues, then weeks. But when the tufunga finally finishes his work, when the intricate patchwork of tattoos circle his legs, flanks, and torso, Moana will finally be a man. But for now, he collapses, exhausted, into the lap of his mother, his body heaving from the shock and torment. The father offers the tufunga—the ceremonial tattoo artist—his thanks and a cup of kava. He accepts, drinks, accepts a second cup, and pours out a draught for their gods.  

Soon there will be more singing, more dancing. But this time Moana will be among their number. He will dance in the sand by the surf with his lover Fa’angase, the two bending and swaying in a rite of betrothal. And back in the hut, little will Pe’a sleep the sleep of the young under the watchful eye of their father. And so life goes on in Savai’i, a Polynesian island untouched by civilization and the ravages of time. 

All this is, of course, a lie. 

All of it. By 1926, the people of Savai’i had been Westernized by Christian missionaries. They no longer wore the tapa cloth clothing of their ancestors; the young women didn’t walk about topless; the young men didn’t wear waist cloths. The practice of ceremonial tattooing had also died out—notice how none of the other men have the full body tattoos seemingly essential to their rite of manhood. And most shockingly, Moana’s family weren’t an actual family. Instead, they were a group of unrelated yet properly photogenic locals assembled by pioneering director and proto-documentarian Robert J. Flaherty for his film Moana. Attempting to follow up the massive success of his first film, the similarly fictionalized quasi-documentary about the Inuit entitled Nanook of the North (1922), Flaherty arrived on Savai’i with 16 tons of filmmaking equipment and dreams of an unspoiled primitive paradise. When he found the island and people thoroughly modernized, the horrified Flaherty spent the next two years with his wife and daughters living among the native Samoans and reconstructing their indigenous culture. Though suffering many humiliating set-backs—in one incident, Flaherty accidentally poisoned himself by drinking water contaminated by the silver nitrate in his film stock—the resultant film was an astonishing work of compassion, curiosity, and shimmering beauty.

But still, it’s all a lie. A beautiful lie; a lie that provides a crucial glimpse into the past of a colonized culture. But a lie nonetheless.

Yet the same could be said for his other feature films, whether he was orchestrating a harpoon hunt for walrus years after the Inuit had adopted rifles in Nanook, teaching the natives of the Aran Islands off the coast of Ireland how to fish for sharks so they could re-enact a fictionalized hunt never practiced by their ancestors in Man of Aran (1934), or depicting oil drilling as a totally environmentally-friendly industry in Louisiana Story (1948). But there’s a curious difference between the fictionalization of these films and Moana. Throughout his career, Flaherty was obsessed with the theme of mankind locked in a constant struggle for survival against the forces of nature. His subjects lived desperate, hardscrabble lives eking out paltry resources from the wilderness. (Flaherty claimed that the main subject of Nanook, an Inuit hunter by the real name of Allakariallak, died of starvation two years after the film was completed.) But when Flaherty arrived in Savai’i, he found no such conflict. The local Samoans had adapted to their environment so perfectly that they lived comfortable lives free of the omnipresent danger and risks of the Inuit or Aran Islanders.

So how do you create conflict in a society without conflict? Flaherty’s solution was an ingenious one: you don’t. There are no massive storms that threaten to wipe Moana’s village out, no dramatic moments where their lives and livelihoods are threatened by an uncaring wilderness. There are hunting scenes, but one involves the capture of an already ensnared wild pig, another the smoking of a crab out of a hole, and the last and longest the seizing of a giant wild sea turtle. And even after Moana and his family lug the docile beast onto the shoreline, we learn that the Samoans hunt sea turtles not for their meat but for their ornamental shells. 

No, if there’s a story in Moana, it isn’t one of conflict. Rather, it’s of Moana’s transition from boyhood to adulthood. We watch him hunt, fish, carve pikes to husk coconuts, dance the siva: all the important skills a man of the village would be expected to perform. But Flaherty doesn’t present these as the stations of some larger ritual, instead he observes them as naturalistic vignettes. No scene better summarizes his unhurried approach more than one where Moana and Pe’a collect coconuts. In what might be the single most beautiful shot in Flaherty’s career, he captures Pe’a slowly climbing up a towering coconut tree in a single unbroken long shot. The tree lilts from the bottom right corner of the frame to the top center, and for a moment it seems like Pe’a will climb up through the top of the frame. But when only his ankles remain, the camera slowly tilts upwards, revealing to our astonishment that this brave young boy is only halfway up the towering tree! Once more he almost climbs out the top of the frame. And once more the camera tilts upwards. Barely 90 seconds long, it’s a masterstroke of cinematic economy.

But perhaps the main thing one notices watching Moana is the room Flaherty gives his characters to simply be human. Far from regarding them as impersonal insects under a microscope, he fills the film with scenes of them laughing and playing, more often than not of Moana and Fa’angase flirting and courting. One of the first scenes sees Moana chop a giant vine and drain the fresh water within into Fa’angase’s giggling mouth. These are not Hollywood savages or anthropological specimens: they’re actual human beings with hopes and dreams and loves and desires. And despite being filmed over 90 years ago, this affirmation of their basic humanity feels like a revelation among a film culture still trapped by so many ancient prejudices. 

For decades the only way you could see Moana was in its original silent state, but in 1975 Flaherty’s youngest daughter Monica set out to work a miracle. Returning to the island of Savai’i, she painstakingly created an audio soundtrack for her father’s film, complete with ambient nature sounds, dubbed dialogue (including lines provided by three surviving cast members), and, most importantly, native folk songs. The new soundtrack premiered at the Cinémathèque française in Paris in 1981, but since the original negatives no longer existed, they were paired with a ratty 16mm copy. But now, over thirty years after the premiere of “Moana with Sound,” a 2K restoration has given us a print worthy of Monica’s soundtrack. The new restoration is a marvel: the picture quality is as pristine as any 35mm could hope to be and the soundtrack is so detailed and extensive that learning it was a recreation made 50 years after the fact seems as implausible and outrageous as learning that Casablanca (1942) was shot silently and only dubbed in the late 1950s. Barring the vision of Polynesia nestled in Flaherty’s mind when he first arrived in Savai’i, this new restoration is the closest we may ever get to Moana as it was originally intended. It may be a collection of meticulous lies, but they’re lies that bring us closer to a fuller understanding of the beauty of the human condition in one of the most far-flung corners of the planet.

Read More

It's Time to Watch More Great Films - The Fall Festival Season is Here

Yep, it's already that time of year again. The summer is over, the leaves are starting to change. You know what that means right? It's the fall film festival season! And also the beginning of the awards season. The Venice Film Festival and Telluride Film Festival both kick off this week, and as always, we're in for a treat with all the new films coming up this fall (it seriously looks like a stacked season). Just a few weeks later in September, the Toronto Film Festival continues festival mania with hundreds of films showing. And the month ends with the beloved Fantastic Fest in Austin, showing the best genre films from around the world. I'll be covering the Venice Film Festival this year, and watching for reports from the other fests.

Consistently for years, the Telluride Film Festival has been the main place where the Best Picture winner first premieres. Even last year, both Moonlight and La La Land premiered there. This is the moment where it all begins. And I'm not just talking about awards buzz, I'm talking about the fall season, where we get to see all these excellent films that have been waiting for audiences. As of yet, we don't know the Telluride line-up (it gets announced very last minute) but we do know the Venice Film Festival line-up and these two fests usually screen many of the same films. Darren Aronofsky's Mother!, Alexander Payne's Downsizing, Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water, George Clooney's Suburbicon, as well as Martin McDonagh's Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri seem to be the most anticipated in the Venice selection.

There's plenty of other treats in the Venice line-up that I'll be checking out: John Woo's Manhunt, Ritesh Batra's Our Souls at Night (starring Robert Redford and Jane Fonda), Andrew Haigh's Lean on Pete, Abdellatif Kechiche's Mektoub, My Love (director of Blue is the Warmest Color), Ai Weiwei's Human Flow, Samuel Maoz's Foxtrot, Paul Schrader's First Reformed, Vivian Qu's Angels Wear White, and Frederick Wiseman's documentary about the New York Public Library called Ex Libris – The New York Public Library. As I always say, I hope that we discover something exciting and find some gems among the other films showing. Follow along on Twitter for the latest buzz, and watch for reviews here on the site.

While there will be plenty of discussion about who should/will/needs to win awards, let's focus on the films. Let's keep our attention focused on what's good (and bad), what's amazing (and abysmal), what's exciting (and terrifying). There's always great films that never get any attention during the awards season, but that doesn't mean they should be ignored. I'm already seriously rooting for Sean Baker's The Florida Project, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival (I totally loved it - read my review), in hopes that at the very least Willem Dafoe gets recognized for his performance. I'm hoping to fall in love with some unforgettable movies, that leave me in awe, even if they're frightening. So let's down get to the cinema and start watching.

Stay tuned for updates from the fall festivals, including the Venice Film Festival. Follow me @firstshowing.

Read More

Vince Vaughn in Teaser Trailer for Brutal Film 'Brawl in Cell Block 99'

"I do things direct, and I have a system." RLJ Entertainment has unveiled a teaser trailer for the highly anticipated brutal crime drama Brawl in Cell Block 99, from filmmaker S. Craig Zahler, director of Bone Tomahawk. This is premiering at the Venice and Toronto Film Festivals starting this week, and we expect to hear plenty of good buzz when the first reviews hit. Vince Vaughn takes on the gritty, very serious role as a former boxer-turned-drug runner who lands in a prison battleground after a deal gets deadly. The full cast includes Jennifer Carpenter, Don Johnson, Tom Guiry, Marc Blucas, Udo Kier, Rob Morgan, Geno Segers, and Fred Melamed. This teaser doesn't reveal too much of what happens in prison, but it does introduce us to Vaughn's character. I'm totally ready for this - I'll be watching it in Venice soon. Bring it.

Here's the first teaser trailer (+ poster) for S. Craig Zahler's Brawl in Cell Block 99, from YouTube:

In the film, a former boxer named Bradley (Vince Vaughn) loses his job as an auto mechanic, and his troubled marriage is about to end. At this crossroads in his life, he feels that he has no better option than to work for an old buddy as a drug courier. This improves his situation until the terrible day that he finds himself in a gunfight between a group of police officers and his own ruthless allies. When the smoke clears, Bradley is badly hurt and thrown in prison, where his enemies force him to commit acts of violence that turn the place into a savage battleground. Brawl in Cell Block 99 is written and directed by up-and-coming American filmmaker S. Craig Zahler, of the film Bone Tomahawk previously. The film will premiere at the Venice & Toronto Film Festivals and Fantastic Fest first, so expect lots of buzz. RLJ Entertainment will then release S. Craig Zahler's Brawl in Cell Block 99 in select theaters starting October 6th this fall. Who's in?

Read More

Official US Trailer for Korean Serial Killer Thriller 'Memoir of a Murder'

"He recognized me just as I recognized him." Well Go USA has released the official US trailer for Shin-yeon Won's Memoir of a Murder, a serial killer -vs- serial killer thriller from Korea. The totally outlandish but totally Korean plot is about a former serial killer with Alzheimer's who fights to protect his daughter from her psychotic serial killer boyfriend. Yeah, that actually sounds cool, right? The cast includes Sol Kyung-Gu, Kim Nam-Gil, and Kim Seol-Hyun. From the looks of it, this is going to be as fun to watch as it is scary, with serial killers lurking everywhere. I'm actually curious about checking this out, even if the title reminds me a bit too much of Bong Joon-ho's Memories of Murder, which is a fantastic film itself. Check it.

Here's the official US trailer (+ poster) for Won Shin-yeon's Memoir of a Murder, in high def on Apple:

Byeong-soo, a retired serial killer, lives a quiet life with his daughter Eun-hee, who has cared for him ever since his Alzheimer’s diagnosis. When Eun-hee brings home her new boyfriend Tae-joo, Byeong-soo realizes Tae-joo is also a serial killer. To save his daughter, Byeong-sop must fight Tae-joo as well as his own mind. Memoir of a Murder is directed by Korean filmmaker Won Shin-yeon, of the films Scary Hair, A Bloody Aria, Seven Days, and The Suspect previously. The screenplay is written by Jo-yun Hwang, based on Young-ha Kim's novel. This hasn't premiered at any film festivals yet, going straight to theaters soon. Well Go USA will open Memoir of a Murder in select theaters starting September 8th. Who's interested?

Read More

Richard Dreyfuss: Life After Spielberg

By Max Covill

Charting the career path of one of the most interesting actors of his generation.

Every actor has at least one movie that defines his or her career. For many, it would be the one movie that movie historians will look back at and recognize the peak of stardom. Some are even luckier to have many movies that garner that kind of attention. Richard Dreyfuss is one of those actors. With his work in the 70s that included roles in American Graffiti, Jaws, and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Dreyfuss etched his name into a very specific period. Although he was active for many years after those features none of those films have the same cultural significance as his earlier work. What happened to an extremely promising actor and what was his career like after working with Steven Spielberg?

Without a doubt, Richard Dreyfuss got his big break with George Lucas’s American Graffiti. He would play one of the main characters, Curt, a high school student unsure of his future after graduation. The film included great parts for many actors including Harrison Ford and Ron Howard, but Dreyfuss earned the attention of Steven Spielberg with his performance.

Spielberg was working on a new film featuring a giant mechanical shark. That film, Jaws, would go on to define modern blockbusters and signal the breakthrough of an exciting cinematic talent. Dreyfuss originally turned down the opportunity to appear in the film because he wasn’t sure horror was the right choice. When talking with Hollywood Reporter, Dreyfuss reflected “All I knew was that the shark came up and goes ‘[Blahhh]’ and I thought, you know, ‘Obviously, this film is gonna tank.'” Eventually, he acquiesced to the role since it was early in his career and being too picky would make things difficult for him.

Jaws opened up more doors for Dreyfuss but none so vital as Close Encounters of the Third Kind. When he read Spielberg’s script for the film, he knew he had to be a part of it. It took significant lobbying but eventually, he got the part. Dreyfuss would end up playing the main character of the story, Roy Neary, whose close encounters with aliens compel him to leave his family and make an amazing adventure. Close Encounters of the Third Kind is receiving a 40th-anniversary restoration and remains the most memorable performance of Dreyfuss’s career. Who can forget the many sequences where Neary is trying to create a location using his mashed potatoes? Speilberg has said in recent years that Close Encounters couldn’t have been made later in his career. He said during his filming of War of the Worlds, “Today, I would never have the guy leaving his family to go on the mother ship. I would have the guy doing everything he could to protect his children.” Well, Spielberg did make the film and Dreyfuss was the perfect match for Roy Neary. While he didn’t get an Oscar for his performance in the film, he would with his next.

The Goodbye Girl was one of the highlights of Dreyfuss’s career after working with Spielberg. It brought him great critical success and made him an Oscar-winning actor. It came at the perfect time – at the peak of his stardom – and he loved the script and people he was working with. In a 2014 interview, he joked about the script for The Goodbye Girl: “It asks you to empathize with the problems of a movie star. Which no one can really do. You may watch your children get hit by a train and the audience says, ‘That’s terrible, but you’re a movie star.'” The Goodbye Girl wasn’t his only great success after Spielberg. He appeared in another Spielberg movie, Always, and was the title star of the 1995 film, Mr. Holland’s Opus. 

Dreyfuss’s career didn’t quite have the continued success he deserved. Here was an Oscar winner who also appeared in one of the biggest films of all-time. The thing that stood in Dreyfuss’s way for many years is his bipolar disorder. He first spoke publicly about it in the 2006 documentary, The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive. According to an article in People magazine, it was like battling a rollercoaster of emotions since his teenage years. He said, “I enjoyed turning down work as much as I enjoyed getting the job. I was living from thrill to thrill and nothing bad happened to me.” Bipolar disorder would make Dreyfuss constantly fight against himself. It has the ability to bring him great fortune, while simultaneously making himself his own worst enemy.

Thankfully, Dreyfuss sought the care he needed. In recent years he has appeared in various television shows, including on by Gina Prince-Bythewood and Reggie Rock Bythewood, Shots Fired. He also has his own non-profit known as The Dreyfuss Civics Institute whose goal it is to revive civics education and empower future generations with critical-thinking skills. He hasn’t given up film acting either. Dreyfuss has five new film projects in various stages of production.

It is impossible to know the extent that Dreyfuss’s bipolar disorder affected his career path. The 70s were undoubtedly his peak with his work for George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. It is hard to imagine anyone else in the role of Roy Neary, a man determined to find the answers just out of reach. Close Encounters of the Third Kind might be Richard Dreyfuss’s crowning achievement, but even at 70, he shows no signs of slowing down. Perhaps we can be privy to more great performances from him.

The article Richard Dreyfuss: Life After Spielberg appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Read More