If.…

If....

 

If.… is the first in direc­tor Lind­say Anderson’s tril­ogy of films fea­tur­ing Mal­colm McDow­ell as the Mick Travis, whose mis­ad­ven­tures con­tinue in O Lucky Man! and Bri­tan­nia Hos­pi­tal. Every­thing I read about the tril­ogy repeats the same word to descibe Travis: “every­man.” On the evi­dence, I take this to mean Travis is a blank slate, a shape­less per­son pushed and molded by the forces of soci­ety about him. If.… begins with the epi­gram “Wis­dom is the prin­ci­pal thing; there­fore get wis­dom; and with all thy get­ting, get under­stand­ing” from The Book of Proverbs, but an even bet­ter state­ment of the film’s themes is spo­ken my Travis him­self: “When do we live? That’s what I want to know.”

The ini­tially real­is­tic por­trayal of life at a British pub­lic school, filmed at Chel­tenham Col­lege but referred to sim­ply as “Col­lege”, includes frank depic­tions of the cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment and homo­sex­u­al­ity (mostly repressed but in one case, gen­uine young love). The pupils’ lives are so reg­i­mented and ordered that even vir­tu­ous activ­i­ties such as study­ing are for­bid­den if not con­ducted at the proper time and place. Most of the ram­pant cru­elty and capri­cious­ness comes from Whips (the senior class, with priv­i­leges) and is sanc­tioned, or rather, will­fully ignored by the aloof adult fac­ulty. It becomes clear the school is satir­i­cal micro­cosm of the British class soci­ety: a self-perpetuating sys­tem in which the young under­class­men “Scum” even­tu­ally grow into the roles of the oppressors.

If....I think I’ll call you Mini-Malcolm

Much of the stu­dents’ time is pre­oc­cu­pied with para­mil­i­tary war games couched in reli­gion. As the school chap­lain admon­ishes them, “Jesus is your com­mand­ing offi­cer.” The ser­mon also instructs that deser­tion is the worst wartime crime, and as all Chris­tians are born with orig­i­nal sin, all are like­wise desert­ers. Dur­ing one war game, Travis and friends delib­er­ately shoot live rounds at their own com­rades. Curi­ously, the head­mas­ter mildly scolds them as if they had com­mit­ted an infrac­tion as naughty as nip­ping at the com­mu­nal wine. But the first irrefutable instance of the film’s turn towards sur­re­al­ity is when the head­mas­ter pro­duces a fac­ulty mem­ber from within a cup­board drawer for whom Travis to apologize.

From this point on, it is clear at least some of Travis’ expe­ri­ences are fan­tasy. And what do teenage boys fan­ta­size about but hook­ing up with hot girls and vio­lently lash­ing out at ene­mies? He beds a beau­ti­ful wait­ress (Chris­tine Noo­nan) in a vio­lently ani­mal­is­tic cou­pling, who might very well be another fig­ment of his imag­i­na­tion. Together they uncover a cache of weapons and pick­led med­ical anom­alies in the school base­ment (his sub­con­scious?), includ­ing a grotesque human fetus. Travis’ anar­chic ado­les­cent fan­tasies cli­max with a mas­sive school shoot­ing dur­ing a nau­se­at­ingly patri­otic fes­ti­val hon­or­ing The Cru­sades. Unlike the con­sid­er­ably more tragic school shoot­ings typ­i­cal to films made in an era of actual teen mas­sacres like Columbine (in films as diverse as Ele­phant, Empire Falls, and The Bas­ket­ball Diaries), Travis’ war is a com­i­cally car­ni­va­lesque affair and the con­se­quences fall offscreen.

If....Mmmf mmmmf mmff mmmmfff.…

Mis­cel­lany:

• The oth­er­wise spiffy Cri­te­rion Col­lec­tion DVD edi­tion appears to be a cen­sored cut, not the X-rated full ver­sion orig­i­nally screened in some parts of the world.

• The assis­tant direc­tor was Steven Frears, who went on to direct Dan­ger­ous Liaisons, High Fidelity, and The Queen. In the Cri­te­rion DVD bonus fea­tures, Frears states that If.… was filmed at the same time as the Paris Riots in 1968, lend­ing pow­er­ful imme­di­acy to the theme of vio­lent stu­dent rebellion.

• The film alter­nates between black & white and color film stock. There are con­flict­ing expla­na­tions accord­ing to Wikipedia, but the pri­mary moti­va­tions seemed to have been that of bud­get and time (black & white film tak­ing less time to light for). Ander­son, how­ever, liked the “tex­ture” and con­tin­ued to use the device. It is appar­ently not to be under­stood to delin­eate real­ity vs. fantasy.

• Mick repeat­edly plays the music “Sanc­tus” from Missa Luba, an African-tinged ver­sion of the Latin Mass. Dif­fi­cult for mod­ern ears to believe, but it was a hit sin­gle at the time. (also from Wikipedia)

• Full of inter­est­ing tid­bits, Wikipedia also cites a visual allu­sion to Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lodger in McDowell’s first appear­ance, show­cas­ing his instantly rec­og­niz­able eyes.


Must read: every­thing you could pos­si­bly want to know about If.… from MalcolmMcDowell.net

Offi­cial movie site: www.lindsayanderson.com/if.html

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


Sex and the City

Sex and the City

 

Yep, I saw it. I work for the movie com­pany that pro­duced it, so I got to go for free. The stan­dard line with Michael Patrick King’s now decade-old Sex and the City fran­chise is that it has always appealed mostly to gay men and the women that love them. Even though this Dork Reporter is more or less a white­bread straight dude (while I like naked lady bot­toms and affirm Sean Con­nery is the best James Bond, auto­mo­biles and pro­fes­sional sports don’t move me), I don’t mean that as a dis­claimer. While I’d never seen more than por­tions of the orig­i­nal tele­vi­sion show, and I’d not vol­un­tar­ily pay see the movie in the the­ater or rent the DVD, I’m not ashamed to say I’ve seen it.

Sex and the CityAfter shop­ping, let’s go shopping

I had recently seen an advance screen­ing of a yet-to-be released film (that will have to remain name­less here) that had more than a lit­tle in com­mon with the plot and char­ac­ters of Sex and the City. Let me just say that in com­par­i­son, Sex and the City is a mas­ter­piece, and at least, watch­able by straight men. The male char­ac­ters in the film are endowed with more char­ac­ter­i­za­tion and com­plex­ity than I would have expected. When Mr. Big (Chris Noth) does some­thing “bad,” it’s because he’s con­fused and con­flicted, not because he’s a douchebag (which is the expla­na­tion of any and all bad behav­ior by male char­ac­ters in the afore­men­tioned movie-that-cannot-be-named-for-professional-reasons).

Sex and the CityHey there, Mr. Big Stuff

To get into the nitty gritty of the plot, there was one aspect that I just couldn’t wrap my head around: Miranda (Cyn­thia Nixon) makes an under­stand­ably bit­ter com­ment about mar­riage in gen­eral to Mr. Big that becomes one of many influ­ences upon his spon­ta­neous deci­sion to leave Car­rie (Sarah Jes­sica Parker) at the altar. Miranda neglects to tell Car­rie about her com­ment, and the event and its cover-up is weighted by the film as A) the worst thing one friend can do to another and B) the sin­gle rea­son why Mr. Big stood Car­rie up. When Miranda even­tu­ally comes clean, Car­rie reacts as if she sees Mr. Big and his actions in a wholly new light, and the rec­on­cil­i­a­tion begins. I just don’t get it; it seems to me, based on the fic­tional char­ac­ters’ actions and moti­va­tions in the world of the film, that Miranda’s minor indis­cre­tion is exactly that, and the true prob­lem is in fact Mr. Big’s ambiva­lence about Carrie’s desire for a dis­gust­ingly overblown princess wed­ding. But I sup­pose the answer to my con­fu­sion may sim­ply be that I don’t get it because I’m a dude.

And finally, a Dork Report Pub­lic Ser­vice Announce­ment for any other blog­gers search­ing the inter­webs for movie stills with which to illus­trate their reviews of Sex and the City: depend­ing on your incli­na­tions, exer­cise cau­tion when Googling “Mr. Big.”


Offi­cial movie site: www.sexandthecitymovie.com


Baby Mama

Baby Mama

 

A true com­edy auteur, Tina Fey’s act­ing has always come in tan­dem with her own writ­ing. This dou­ble act has pro­gressed from improv com­edy at The Sec­ond City, to head writer for Sat­ur­day Night Live, to sup­port­ing player in the fea­ture film Mean Girls, (for which she wrote the screen­play), and finally to exec­u­tive pro­ducer and star of her own sit­com 30 Rock.

Baby Mama, writ­ten and directed by Michael McCullers, marks Fey’s first star turn in a project which she did not orig­i­nate or write. Still, it cer­tainly feels a lot like a Tiny Fey joint. Judg­ing by the gen­eral tone and the chaotic improv of Fey’s partner-in-crime Amy Poehler, I sus­pect the two enhanced the pro­duc­tion with a fair amount of script-doctoring. Indeed, Fey’s char­ac­ter fits firmly in the pub­lic per­sona of Endear­ingly Neu­rotic Thir­tysome­thing Sin­gle Girl estab­lished on SNL’s Week­end Update, as Ms. Nor­bury in Mean Girls, and as Liz Lemon in 30 Rock. The Tina Fey Not­lash notwith­stand­ing, she is evi­dently more grounded in real life, and mar­ried with a child. Mean­while, the fic­tion­al­ized “Tina Fey” is the idol of every girl with glasses and crush of every boy with… uh, glasses.

Baby MamaWell, excu­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­u­use me!

Fey must have an impres­sive rolodex, for like her flag­ship TV show 30 Rock, nearly every lit­tle role is Baby Mama is filled by a famil­iar face. When not being amused by alumni from The Daily Show and SNL, we’re treated to Steve Mar­tin as a wild and crazy organic food mag­nate and Sigour­ney Weaver as an ini­tially creepy but ulti­mately sym­pa­thetic fer­til­ity doc­tor. But per­son­ally, I wouldn’t dare make fun of Sigour­ney Weaver’s age, lest she come after me with a flamethrower or a space fork­lift.

Baby MamaTrashy and takin’ out the trash

Offi­cial movie site: www.babymamamovie.net


You Kill Me

You Kill Me movie poster

 

The first thing to say about You Kill Me is to give props to Ben Kings­ley, if for no other rea­son than my fear that he will break my kneecaps if I don’t. Even after his ter­ri­fy­ing turn in Sexy Beast, it’s still a sur­prise to see it is per­fectly nat­ural for him to take the role of Frank, an almost super­hu­manly tal­ented mob assas­sin. For a man of a cer­tain age who once played Ghandi, he can cer­tainly act up some seri­ous phys­i­cal men­ace. But You Kill Me gives him a chance to enrich this char­ac­ter type instead of merely repeat it. In Sexy Beast, he was funny because he was so very extremely men­ac­ing. Here, his char­ac­ter is men­ac­ing and funny.

You Kill Me is a bicoastal film, lit­er­ally illus­trat­ing Frank’s dif­fer­ent worlds by set­ting the action in two dif­fer­ent cities. In Buf­falo, You Kill Me shares with The Sopra­nos a look into the oper­a­tions of modern-day gang­sters. Their lives are some­what less excit­ing than the fan­tasy lucra­tive lifestyle seen in The God­fa­ther and Scar­face, but still sharply divided by cul­tural her­itage and iden­tity. Frank may seem to be a pathetic fig­ure, but when sober, he is the sole fac­tor keep­ing his small-time Pol­ish crime fam­ily in business.

Ben Kingsley and Tea Leoni in You Kill MeYeah, I find alco­holic assas­sins irre­sistible too

The prob­lem is, he is sober less and less when the story opens, and his fam­ily must fix him in order to sur­vive. So Frank is ordered from Buf­falo to San Fran­cisco to dry out, leav­ing behind his fam­ily (both by blood and crim­i­nal asso­ci­a­tion) and yet quickly forg­ing a new one: Dave (Bill Pull­man), a shady real-estate dealer no bet­ter than a gang­ster him­self; Tom (Luke Wil­son), a gay fel­low alco­holic; and implau­si­ble love inter­est Lau­rel (Téa Leoni, also an exec­u­tive producer).

Ben Kingsley in You Kill MeThis man played Ghandi

The prob­lem with Lau­rel is not only the creepy age dif­fer­en­tial (a long-standing Hol­ly­wood pox from which it seems even indies aren’t immune), but with Laurel’s under­de­vel­oped char­ac­ter. What lit­tle we learn of her his­tory (a recently deceased, unloved step­fa­ther) seems insuf­fi­cient to explain what makes her so lonely and des­per­ate that she would attach her­self to pos­si­bly the most unsta­ble and unre­li­able per­son in the world. What hap­pened to her to make her so blasé and amoral that she clings so fer­vently to Frank and cross the coun­try to risk her life for him?


Offi­cial movie site: www.youkillmethefilm.com

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to me.


Blazing Saddles

Blazing Saddles movie poster

 

Unfor­tu­nately, Blaz­ing Sad­dles is not nearly as funny as I remem­ber from my child­hood. I recall the infa­mous bean-induced fart sequnce being a ver­i­ta­ble sym­phony of bad taste; alas, the real thing is just a minute or so long at most. But it turns won­der­fully crazy near the end, finally becom­ing funny as the cast crashes postmodern-style into another movie set and an actor shouts “Piss on you, I’m work­ing for Mel Brooks!”

Gene Wilder proves his range by gives the polar oppo­site per­for­mance than in Young Franken­stein and The Pro­duc­ers. Stoned mel­low, he gra­ciously sup­ports star Cleavon Lit­tle. Still, Wilder gets to wrap up the pic­ture by kick­ing up his heels (still munch­ing the pop­corn from their movie date) and con­fess­ing his long­ing to ride off into the sun­set with Sher­iff Bart.