The front door to an apartment swings open... an unseen figure walks through the living area and approaches a beautiful blonde woman wearing a robe as she walks around the bathroom... he then deliberately empties the barrel of his revolver into her – this is the jarring cold opening to the film noir Illegal (1955), and one thing is for sure, it knows how to grab your attention. Funnily enough, this was the third adaptation of the 1929 play “The Mouthpiece” by Frank J. Collins, following Mouthpiece (1932) and The Man Who Talked Too Much (1940) – and they say movies are remade too much today. Flash to Victor Scott (Edward G. Robinson), a district attorney who is wise to all the angles and is graced with a silver tongue. With an unyielding desire to win (he got it from growing up and fighting his way out of the slums), he argues every case like it is his last.
It was lovely sitting down with veteran actor Michael Dante at Trekonderoga this past August. In the business for more than sixty years, it was not his original path in life. A top baseball player, he was signed by the Boston Braves out of high school. As fate would have it, he travelled a less expected path, finding his way, through interesting circumstances, into his first feature film, Robert Wise’s Somebody Up There Likes Me, in 1956 (with legendary names like Newman, Duvall and McQueen). Leading to an impressive career, Dante has graced the silver screen in such films as Westbound, Seven Thieves (Edward G. Robinson, Rod Steiger, Joan Collins, Eli Wallach), Kid Galahad (Elvis), The Naked Kiss (with famed director Samuel Fuller), Apache Rifles, Willard, as well as playing the title character in Winterhawk. . . this is just a small sampling of his work.
Human nature is fickle. For all the good things that come with it, there is a belief, even a drive, to be right. Perhaps best termed a stubborn streak, we feel that we alone can have the appropriate perspective on an issue, leading to countless gripes between neighbours or amongst family members. It is likely that, if we travelled back two thousand years, Ancient Romans would be having similar tiffs in which both believe they are in the right. It is this scenario that comes to life in the absurdist 2017 short film Punch Bag, a dark comedy with a unique vision. Written and directed by Daniel Harding, the narrative follows Naomi (Ingvild Deila), a woman who finds herself in one such similar situation, disgruntled with the intrusive noise of her neighbours. Finding a striking yellow and red pamphlet that offers aid for such matters, she waits outside the business office, growing more hesitant to enter after hearing the lopsided row going on inside.
A striking picture from a unique moment in Hollywood history, Pál Fejös’ 1928 romantic drama Lonesome found itself one of the first transitional films between the silent and sound/talkie era. Originally developed as a Universal silent feature by the Hungarian filmmaker (Fejös, a Renaissance man, was also a doctor, World War 1 medic, anthropologist and explorer), in post-production it was decided that three dialogue scenes would be added – to appease audiences who desired the new effect following The Jazz Singer craze. A short transitional period of about two years followed, as filmmakers and studios began to adapt to the changing world of sound, adding touches of dialogue into their silent pictures.
It’s funny. As I chatted with my cousin while on the way to see Logan, I mentioned one of the most frustrating aspects of comic book movies – that it is somehow expected that the newest effort has to outdo the previous one, which is then interpreted by going bigger in the realm of special effects and mind-numbing final battles that end up feeling more than ludicrous (even for a sci fi fantasy). That is why I was so pleasantly surprised by James Mangold’s 2017 offering; a more personal, pared down feature that, at its heart, is about learning to live with your past, as well as recovery and redemption. Taking a page from the popularity of last year’s Deadpool, Logan does not hold back in the realm of violence, profanity, and one small moment of nudity. Set approximately a decade into the future, the opening shot may be jarring to some fans of the X-Men franchise. When we first see Hugh Jackman’s titular character – his big, bushy beard (not the perfectly trimmed mutton chops) and hair flecked with grey, it is an aged Wolverine like we have never seen. He more closely resembles a modern day Mel Gibson (perhaps after a lengthy bender) than the regenerative, sarcastic being we know and love. He is haggard, depressed and has lost a step. . . maybe even two. It is a world that has not seen the birth of a mutant in quite some time, and these gifted individuals are dying out.
You may be wondering why I am writing about Mother!, Darren Aronofsky’s new horror film, as a blog post and not as a review. A complex piece of cinema that is both rewarding and frustrating, it is something I cannot wholly recommend for viewing – a must for me. To many viewers, it will likely feel like the exclamation point should be replaced by a question mark. . . perhaps several. Likely to leave many audience members baffled, it is still important to understand the basis for the story, as well as the text, subtext, and sub-subtext that makes the tale so seeped in allegory. This will hopefully provide brave cinephiles with a guidepost that will enlighten them to Aronofsky’s vision, whether they walk away from it with one viewpoint or another, loving or loathing it.
One of those films that was not treated overly well by critics but is beloved by fans the world over, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, shot lead Jim Carrey, then known to people mostly for being on In Living Color, into another stratosphere. The year 1994 was a good one for the comic and actor, as this film was followed soon after by The Mask and Dumb & Dumber, further adding to his meteoric rise. The next three years would further cement him as a true comic talent, as roles in Batman Forever, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, The Cable Guy and Liar Liar continuously hit viewers’ funny bones. Though, it was the character of Ace Ventura, which was co-written by Carrey, along with Jack Bernstein and Tom Shadyac (who also directed, and would work again with the actor in Liar Liar and Bruce Almighty), that first demonstrated his skills at physical comedy, mimicry, comedic timing and coining memorable catch phrases to be enjoyed by silver screen audiences.