The Grouchy Editor

“Every American should see this movie to understand the horrors of slavery.” – comment on the Internet Movie Database.

“The most disgusting, contemptuous insult to decency ever to masquerade as a documentary.” – film critic Roger Ebert, in his 1972 review of Goodbye Uncle Tom.

So is Goodbye Uncle Tom a must-see film, as the IMDB commenter insists, or was Ebert right to vilify the “shockumentary”?  I tend to side with the IMDB commenter – although Ebert might have a point.  Uncle Tom is an uncompromising look at slavery, and by that I mean it’s graphic, painful, and extremely unpleasant.  But did it have to be so incendiary, if only to make its point?  And what about the methods used by Italian filmmakers Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco  Prosperi, who might have callously exploited impoverished Haitians to depict 19th-century American slaves?

Jacopetti and Prosperi made their notorious movie utilizing news footage of racial unrest in the 1960s and combining it with dramatizations of actual people and events from early America.  To play the slaves, real Haitians (many of them underage) were recruited, and they are filmed in degrading and humiliating scenarios, often completely naked.   Exactly how Jacopetti and Prosperi convinced hundreds of Haitians to go along with this is debatable, but most of them were poor, uneducated, and living under the harsh regime of “Papa Doc” Duvalier.  In other words, they were living under conditions not dissimilar to slavery itself.

You can accuse Jacopetti and Prosperi of exploitation, but certainly not of sugar-coating history.  Southern whites generally come off as monsters in the film, but Europeans, Northerners, and even some blacks are also portrayed in a negative light.  You probably won’t “like” Goodbye Uncle Tom, but you will be impressed by it.  A haunting musical score by Riz Ortolani – bizarrely upbeat during otherwise horrific scenes – adds to the movie’s impact.

The problem for Jacopetti and Prosperi is that a lot of this stuff comes off as pure titillation.  Young black men are stripped, poked, prodded and whipped.  Young black women are stripped, poked, prodded and raped.  The camera frequently lingers on their nudity in close-up detail.

Goodbye Uncle Tom’s sexual politics, graphic violence, and pessimistic outlook caused it to be banned or censored in some countries.  But just as the Jews make certain that the Holocaust is not forgotten, that IMDB user is also correct:  Every American should see this.        Grade:  A-

Directors:  Gualtiero Jacopetti, Franco Prosperi   Release:  1971

Note:  There are at least two versions of the film on DVD, one of them with 13 minutes of footage excised.

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Is it movie-lore sacrilege to suggest that Cary Grant was miscast in one of his most beloved roles?  I recently re-watched Arsenic and Old Lace, director Frank Capra’s 1944 version of the popular stage play, and later I learned that comedian Bob Hope was originally sought for the lead:  Mortimer Brewster, the set-upon nephew of two spinsters who just happen to be poisoning their gentleman callers.

Grant, of course, immortalized the part of Mortimer with a frantic, bug-eyed rendition of the nephew as he tries to make sense of his aunts’ bizarre behavior – and also save their skins.  But when I again watched this delightful (albeit a bit dated) farce, I was struck by two things:  1) the brilliant, subtle portrayal of sociopath Jonathan by actor Raymond Massey, and 2) Grant’s over-the-top, anything-but-subtle frenzy as Mortimer.  To me, Grant overacts something fierce.

When the stage directions call for Mortimer to do a double-take, Grant delivers whiplash.  When he is supposed to be surprised, his eyes burst from their sockets.  When he’s asked to dash across the stage, Grant does acrobatics, leaping and spilling over furniture.  It’s all very amusing, but also distracting.  I have to wonder, would Mortimer have been better played by Hope, an actor more suited to roles that emphasize self-preservation?  Would a sweating, paranoid Hope have been better than a mugging, exasperated Grant?

It’s a moot point, but what is clear is the hilarious turn by Massey, who turns the “Karloff” killer into a prickly psycho whose predominant characteristic is not malice, but rather vanity.  Massey’s glaring reactions to anyone who comments on his physical appearance are hysterical.  Also on the plus side:  Director Capra, who can be mawkish, is restrained here by the limitations of playwright Joseph Kesselring’s plot.  And Josephine Hull, so wonderful six years later in a similar role in Harvey, gives us the ultimate fussy eccentric.     Grade:  B+

Director:  Frank Capra  Cast:  Cary Grant, Priscilla Lane, Raymond Massey, Peter Lorre, Jack Carson, Josephine Hull, Jean Adair, James Gleason, Grant Mitchell, John Alexander  Release:  1944

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“You can see that the rapist doesn’t have a penis,” says Rodolphe Chabrier, “so Gaspar [Noe, the director] and I decided to add a virtual one, created with 3-D animation.”

So says Chabrier, visual effects supervisor of Irreversible, elaborating on the filming of a 10-minute rape scene that rankles many of the movie’s detractors.  But Chabrier’s revelation pretty much sums up what’s wrong with the entire film:  A genital isn’t the only thing missing from this revenge drama; the film itself is all style and very little substance.

Thanks I suppose to Memento, which came out two years earlier, Irreversible is told in reverse chronological order.  But that wasn’t disorienting enough for Noe.  The first third of the movie is a whirlwind of spinning and zooming camera angles, screamed obscenities, and a discordant soundtrack – all meant to convey a sensation of chaos as the rape victim’s two male friends seek to avenge the crime.  This sense of nightmarish anarchy works, but to what end?  The men are enraged, I get it.  The gay S&M bar they wind up in is a fevered den of unleashed passion, I get that, too.  Does that mean I want to wallow in this dizzying world of flash-and-dash cinematography for a full 30 minutes?  No.

I guess that by beginning his movie with violent retribution and then working backwards to more sedate times, Noe wants audiences to look at the concept of vengeance in a new way.  But I felt I was just watching a director and his CGI guys show off what they could do. 

As for the lengthy rape that actress Monica Bellucci endures in the infamous tunnel scene, it’s graphic without being explicit.  But you have to wonder if it was really necessary to make the scene ten minutes long.  And here’s a question that is probably superfluous, but what’s up with adding in that penis?        Grade:  C-

Director:  Gaspar Noe  Cast:  Monica Bellucci, Vincent Cassel, Albert Dupontel, Jo Prestia  Release:  2002

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“Lovable hit men.”  If you have a hard time wrapping your mind around that concept, imagine what studio heads must have felt when writer-director Martin McDonagh approached them with the idea of making two assassins the heroes of his black comedy, In Bruges.

Whatever the reaction, it was a great day for filmgoers when McDonagh’s movie got the green light.  In this wacky yet poignant (yes, poignant) film, Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson play Ray and Ken, two European hit men laying low in Bruges, Belgium.  Ray has accidentally killed a child, and the boss (Ralph Fiennes), for reasons known only to him, has ordered his two hapless killers into hibernation.  Bruges is an ideal layover for middle-aged Ken, who digs its medieval architecture and relative freedom from tourists.  For the younger, more impetuous Ray, however, the old city is anathema.  “Ray, you’re about the worst tourist in the whole world,” complains Ken.  “If I’d grown up on a farm,” rejoins Ray, “and was retarded, Bruges might impress me.  But I didn’t, so it doesn’t.”

The first ten minutes of In Bruges – even on a second viewing – had me laughing out loud.  This is something I rarely do when watching movies.  The film is gleefully politically incorrect, with targets ranging from American tourists to obese people to dwarves, but I wouldn’t call it mean-spirited.  And Farrell and Gleeson make an extraordinary movie team; this is Laurel and Hardy with silencers.

That “lovable hit men” concept could not have been easy to pull off.   A deft touch was required, and McDonagh strikes a perfect balance between light and dark.   In Bruges has bad guys galore, but these villains are all cursed with consciences and warped honor codes.  “You’ve got to stick to your principles,” says Fiennes, right before pulling his trigger.          Grade:  B+

Director:  Martin McDonagh  Cast:  Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes, Clemence Poesy, Jordan Prentice, Thekla Reuten, Eric Godon  Release:  2008

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Time-travel movies are often problematic.  If characters can zip forward or backward in space/time to alter events, why do they do so only at some junctures, and not others?  And once you get into that whole “butterfly effect” business … it’s enough to drive a viewer bonkers.

Time After Time, a 1979 lark starring Malcolm McDowell and Mary Steenburgen, also runs into these problems when plot complications cause it to lose steam, and credibility, in its final half hour.  But until then the movie is a fanciful good time.

McDowell stars as H.G. Wells, and the famous philosopher/novelist has a problem:  Jack the Ripper has stolen his time machine and transported himself from 1893 London to 1979 San Francisco.  Wells, nineteenth-century romantic that he is, follows the infamous serial killer into the future and in the course of his pursuit falls in love with a quirky bank employee (Steenburgen).

There are two reasons this movie is so enjoyable:  1) McDowell’s amusing turn as Wells, a man completely out of his element in San Francisco as he navigates modern food (dining at “that Scottish place” – McDonald’s), escalators, movies, and an electric toothbrush; and 2) the cute – but never precious – romance between Wells and banker Amy.  Steenburgen’s combination modern woman/ditzy brunette is a perfect foil for Wells, and you’ll find yourself pulling for these two.

I’m a sucker for H.G. Wells, Jack the Ripper, and (sometimes) time-travel movies, so this is great entertainment for me.  But don’t take my word for it.  Here is a capsule review from someone called “moneygob,” commenting on Time After Time at YouTube:  “This was a strange film.  I started watching it at 3 p.m. one Sunday afternoon and the film finished at 1 p.m. the same day.  Very realistic film!”   What more can you ask for – a great movie and it takes no time to watch?            Grade:  B+

Director:  Nicholas Meyer  Cast:  Malcolm McDowell, David Warner, Mary Steenburgen, Charles Cioffi, Kent Williams, Patti D’Arbanville  Release:  1979

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Pity poor Aoyama (Ryo Ishibashi), a widowed Japanese businessman.  His wife died seven years ago, leaving him alone with a young son.  He’s not getting any younger, and some female companionship would certainly be welcome.  Thank God for his best friend Yoshikawa (Jun Kunimura), a film producer with a killer idea:  He and Aoyama will stage a fake movie audition, and Aoyama will have a wonderful opportunity to study and select his perfect woman – young, beautiful and, best of all, “obedient.”

All sorts of aphorisms come to mind regarding Japanese director Takashi Miike’s cult classic Audition, including “Be careful what you wish for,” “If it seems too good to be true …” and, “Beware the quiet ones.”  Especially that last one.

Aoyama does indeed find his dream girl, the pretty and geisha-like Asami (Eihi Shiina), but after he sleeps with her, she vanishes, and thence Aoyama unwisely ignores yet another bromide:  “Leave well enough alone.”

Takashi’s film is an odd brew, a concoction that not only mixes bromides but also the influence of several directors — Hitchcock, Cronenberg, and Lynch, to name three.  The first two-thirds of Audition is dreamlike, its pace leisurely, reminiscent of Hitchcock’s Vertigo as the obsessed Aoyama finds, loses, and then hunts for the ethereal Asami.  Is the girl just a bit odd, or is she dangerous?  Here’s a hint:  In Vertigo, Kim Novak didn’t keep a bulging cloth sack on the floor of her living room, a sack that periodically moves of its own volition ….

Torture-porn and acupuncture fans (“torpunc fans”?) delight in the final act of Audition.  The film is infamous for Asami’s revenge – on men in general and Aoyama in particular.  I’m not a big fan of this gory crap, which is already dated thanks to movies like Saw, Hostel, and other Japanese fare including Miike’s own Ichi the Killer.  Rather than focus on the infinitely more interesting psychological aspects of his characters, as Hitchcock did in his film, Miike caters to the lowest common denominator.  That decision turns what had been a mesmeric, surreal quest into just one more bloody mess.          Grade:  C+

Director:  Takashi Miike  Cast:  Ryo Ishibashi, Eihi Shiina, Tetsu Sawaki, Jun Kunimura, Misato Nakamura  Release:  1999

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“I didn’t expect Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, but there’s a limit to the mean-spiritedness one can endure in a character one is supposed to find delightful.”  That’s a quote from legendary film critic Andrew Sarris, referring to Ghost World in August, 2001.  The comment makes me wonder if Sarris stuck around long enough to watch the second half of the movie.

I’m curious about that because, up until about the midpoint of this comic-book-based film, I was inclined to agree with Sarris.  Ghost World’s heroines, recent high school graduates Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), spend most of their time ridiculing everything and everyone around them:  other students, teachers, complete strangers.  Typical teenage behavior, I suppose, but still bratty.  Who wants to spend two hours watching that?

But a funny thing happens on the way to the strip mall.  Enid and Rebecca play a cruel joke on a nonconformist, nerdy music collector (Steve Buscemi), which leads to an unconventional relationship between Enid and the much older Seymour, and … Ghost World becomes something special.  And so does one of the “brats.”

Ghost World is based on a graphic novel by Daniel Clowes, and it’s directed by Terry Zwigoff, the same man who gave us the documentary Crumb, about legendary underground comics artist R. Crumb, so it’s safe to say Zwigoff knows his comic books.  But Ghost World comes to life in quirky and memorable ways, thanks to a clever screenplay and two standout performances by Birch and Buscemi.   And thanks to all involved, it’s that rarest of commodities:  a teen coming-of-age movie that actually has heart and brains.        Grade:  B+

Director:  Terry Zwigoff  Cast:  Thora Birch, Scarlett Johansson, Steve Buscemi, Brad Renfro, Illeana Douglas, Bob Balaban, Stacey Travis  Release:  2001

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From what I can tell, there are two big reasons the French film Amelie has achieved cult status.  I’ll buy into one of those reasons.  As for the other reason … I’m only kinda sorta on board.

Reason One is the star of this whimsical fantasy, Audrey Tautou.  If your taste in acting favors “quirky,” “eccentric,” “Bohemian” and “hippie,” you will be captivated by both the actress and the film.  But this conceit – that Tautou is so enchanting, so similar to that other Audrey – assumes everyone will embrace her waiflike charms.   Tautou is appealing, but I wouldn’t put her in Hepburn’s league.

Amelie (Tautou) is a shy waitress who makes a vow with herself to do good unto others (and, if warranted, bad).  This karma-code introduces Amelie to one oddball Parisian after another.  But this is fantasy land, so even the “bad” people she encounters are not truly evil.  The pornography shop where her true love toils is presented as more neighborhood boutique than den of sin.

You have to buy into this alternate universe for the movie to work.  You must accept that when, at long last, Amelie finds the man of her dreams (Mathieu Kassovitz), he is impossibly nice:  goofy, ineffectual, and apparently sexless – like Amelie herself. In this universe, lovemaking means innocent caresses, and nothing more.  When Amelie takes her man to bed, it’s as if she simply exchanged her childhood goldfish for an adult man.  

Reason Two to enjoy Amelie, the element I did buy into, is a humdinger:  It is a visual feast.  There are references to Renoir in the dialogue, and I have to believe the French artist would be impressed by this film’s look.  Amelie is simply one of the most gorgeous movies I’ve seen.  Every shot is a funhouse palette of greens, reds and golds – the Land of Oz in neon hues.  The film was Oscar-nominated for both art direction and cinematography, and it’s a mystery to me how it did not win.

Amelie is wish-fulfillment for dreamers, and there’s little harm in that.  Not all movies are intended to be realistic.  But if you wish for something more than two hours of quirky, eccentric, and dreamy, you’d best look elsewhere.         Grade:  B

Director:  Jean-Pierre Jeunet  Cast:  Audrey Tautou, Mathieu Kassovitz, Rufus, Lorella Cravotta, Serge Merlin, Jamel Debbouze, Clotilde Mollet, Yolande Moreau, Isabelle Nanty  Release:  2001

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I don’t ask very much of a horror movie, really I don’t.  I just want it to do one thing:  scare me.

Apparently, that’s asking a lot.  Studios and movie-rental companies are well aware of the demand for horror, and there are hundreds – maybe thousands – of genre titles out there.  Some of these horror flicks have competent acting, quasi-believable storylines, decent cinematography, and capable direction.  They do not, however, ever, ever, ever contain anything that scares me.  They do have lots of gore, but blood and guts are not scary; they are merely repulsive.  Achieving a good scare on film is the equivalent of a no-hitter in baseball, something rare and memorable.

I think the last time a horror movie made me jump was in 2002, when that creepy girl in The Ring climbed out of a television set.  The Ring was an American remake of a Japanese film, and so is 2004’s The Grudge.   Japan has quite a reputation for scary movies these days, so I decided to watch Ju-on, a 2000 direct-to-video cheapo that inspired not only The Grudge, but also a number of sequels.

It scared me.

The low-budget little thriller got me good – one time for sure, maybe twice.  Okay, twice.  There is one scene in particular, set on a staircase near the end of the film … well, I’m not going to spoil it.

I can’t in good conscience recommend much else about Ju-on.  Its plot is silly, derivative, and at times incoherent – so no kudos to the screenwriter.  The acting is pedestrian.  But the director and his crew of photographers, editors, and soundmen obviously studied their horror movies.  They know timing, framing, and lighting, and they applied them very well.  I wanted them to do but one thing, and that they did.  They scared me.  Maybe twice.      Grade:  B

Director:  Takashi Shimizu  Cast:  Yurei Yanagi, Chiaki Kuriyama, Hitomi Miwa  Release:  2000

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The Living and the Dead begins quietly enough.  The setting is one of those stately British manor houses with an imposing facade but which, once you step inside, has fallen into hopeless disrepair, probably because its occupants are too proud to leave but too poor to pay for upkeep.  The three inhabitants of the house are a respectable father (Roger Lloyd Pack), a dignified but terminally ill, bedridden mother (Kate Fahy), and their only son, James (Leo Bill).  Everything seems peaceful and proper. There is very little indication that director Simon Rumley is about to unlatch the gates of hell.

Our only clue that things are about to unravel – big time – is the unorthodox behavior of adult son James.  Actually, James’s problems are a bit more than unorthodox; he is a full-blown schizophrenic.  He is hyperactive, needy, and childish – but all of this is managed by medication and the loving care of his father (mother, remember, is unable to leave her bed).  James, who really means well, is desperate to prove to his parents that he is a responsible boy, that he can be “normal.”  And then one fateful day, father has to leave the house on business, and the day nurse can’t come right away, and James is left alone in the house with mother ….

I’ll have to say that watching Leo Bill as James, I initially felt that he was overacting and that his histrionics would grow tiresome and kill the movie.  I was mistaken. Bill, Pack, and Fahy all turn in superb performances in what must have been difficult roles.  Bill, especially, impresses.   When James panics, you panic.  What in God’s name will this unfortunate soul do next – to himself, his poor mother, or anyone around him?

The Living and the Dead can count among its cinematic ancestors movies like What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and Misery, but Rumley’s film is even more horrifying because it’s more realistic.  There are no faded movie stars, famous writers, or crazed nurses in this film; just an ailing mom, an absent dad, and a boy with problems.   And boy, what problems.         Grade:  A-

Director:  Simon Rumley  Cast:  Roger Lloyd Pack, Kate Fahy, Leo Bill, Sarah Ball  Release:  2007

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