The Grouchy Editor

Mandingo is a curiosity that should be embraced by two groups:  historians, and fans of schlock cinema.  It’s a film that depicts reality — and that’s why you might feel the need to take a shower after watching it.

The 1975 movie, based on a novel by Kyle Onstott, presents 1830s Southern slavery without revisionism, without sugarcoating.  Nothing is implied when it can be shown:  slave auctions, whippings, rapes, and sex between masters and slaves.  Historians should have no objections.

And why should fans of schlock cinema love Mandingo?  Nothing is implied when it can be shown:  slave auctions, whippings, rapes, and sex between masters and slaves.

James Mason is all bluster and bigotry as the patriarch of decrepit Falconhurst, an Alabama plantation.  He wants a grandson, and that means son Hammond (Perry King) must marry and procreate.  Hammond chooses Blanche (Susan George), a conniving belle who makes Scarlett O’Hara seem shy and reserved, by comparison.  When Hammond learns on their wedding night that Blanche is no virgin, he takes it poorly and continues his extracurricular activities with a comely black slave (Brenda Sykes).  Blanche seeks retaliation, and all melodramatic hell breaks loose.

Mandingo is vulgar but has lots of hooks, including Mason as the gravel-voiced, rheumatic plantation owner; former boxer Ken Norton as a “Mandingo” (an ethnic branch from West Africa) named Mede, who is unlucky enough to attract the attention of Blanche; and some of the most gratuitous sex and violence to come out of 1970s cinema — a decade not known for skimping on sex and violence.

But mostly, Mandingo has British actress Susan George.  George, so memorable as Dustin Hoffman’s unhappy wife in Straw Dogs, is mesmerizing as Blanche, a vixen who personifies evil and yet — when you look closely at her circumstances — is not entirely unsympathetic.  The fairly graphic sex scene between lusty George and hesitant Norton was quite daring in 1975.

Mandingo is a potboiler (quite literally, in one scene) with strong moments.  Whether those moments strike you as historically important, or mere titillation, is of course up to you.     Grade:  B-

Director:  Richard Fleischer  Cast:  James Mason, Susan George, Perry King, Richard Ward, Brenda Sykes, Ken Norton, Lillian Hayman, Roy Poole, Paul Benedict,  Debra Blackwell, Laura Misch Owens  Release:  1975

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Maybe the bar has been set so low for horror-comedies that I no longer expect much from them, but heaven help me, I liked The Cottage.  I liked it more than the Scream movies, which are often too cute for their own good.  I liked it more than the camp classic Motel Hell, which doesn’t live up to its reputation.

The Cottage is engaging mostly because of its characters.  When teens take a pickaxe in the skull in most horror spoofs, I tend to silently cheer.  But in this film, I actually wanted the people to survive the inevitable carnage.  (I won’t say whether or not they do.)

Bug-eyed Andy Serkis, who’s made a name for himself acting in motion-capture roles (Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Gollum in The Lord of the Rings), plays it straight as one of two bumbling brothers who make the mistake of kidnapping the foul-mouthed daughter (Jennifer Ellison) of a mobster.  Reece Shearsmith, as the other brother, and Steven O’Donnell, as the mobster’s son, complete this Three Stooges redux.

The Cottage is a strange hybrid of genres.  The first half of the story is a kidnapping caper; the second half is a bloody, stupid, and funny send-up of horror favorites like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Psycho.  The last half of the movie, nonsensical as it is (how in hell does the story go from crime thriller to slasher flick?), is nevertheless the most effective.  The killer, a deformed farmer, looks like he’s wearing a rubber mask and makes noises that seem filtered through … a rubber mask.  If that sounds ridiculous, rest assured, it is.

But I liked the characters, I dug the tongue-in-cheek tone, and there were just enough creepy scenarios and amusing one-liners to keep me hooked.  Says one bumbling brother to the uncooperative kidnap victim as they flee the deranged farmer:  “This is the worst night of my life.  Not only have I met you, I’ve stumbled into the only house in the country with someone worse than you.”      Grade:  B

 
Director:  Paul Andrew Williams  Cast:  Andy Serkis, Reece Shearsmith, Steven O’Donnell, Jennifer Ellison, Logan Wong, Jonathan Chan-Pensley, Dave Legeno  Release:  2008

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When this biography of World’s Greatest Jerk Jake LaMotta was released in 1980, it went on to gross $23 million in the United States, a modest haul proving that the American public – at least on occasion – has more sense than do critics, because most moviegoers opted to stay home.

According to Entertainment Weekly, Martin Scorsese’s boxing drama is the fifth-greatest film of all time.  Number six all-time, counters a poll in Sight & Sound.  One of the ten greatest movies ever made, says Roger Ebert.

Raging Bull is a “knockout” alright:  It nearly put me to sleep half a dozen times.  What a long, boring slog of a movie.  It is made up entirely of unlikeable characters, a script filled with boxing clichés, and a predictable plot.  You have to be emotionally invested in a character – any character – to follow a film this dispiriting for more than two hours.  There is absolutely no one to root for in Raging Bull, just actors to stare at.

Jake (Robert De Niro) gets married.  Jake gets jealous.  Jake boxes.  Jake gets jealous again.  Jake boxes some more.  Jake retires and feels sorry for himself.  There is lots of swearing and yelling and Brooklyn accents; if that’s your idea of compelling drama, then this is the movie for you. 

The acting is generally good, although a wooden Cathy Moriarty, as Jake’s child-bride Vickie, doesn’t remotely resemble the 14-year-old she’s supposed to be at the beginning of the film, and she exudes all the personality of a petrified turnip.  Joe Pesci, acting in his first big role, plays the kind of character Pesci always plays (“feisty”).

So why is Raging Bull such a critical favorite?  I have three theories:  1) It’s in black and white, which signifies “serious” to some folks.   2) The boxing scenes, full of slow-motion blood, sweat and tears, seemed edgy in 1980.  3) The project reunited critics’ darlings Scorsese, De Niro, and writer Paul Schrader, who gave us the superior Taxi Driver.  I guess some critics were also taken with the film’s profound message, which is apparently “Be nice.”

I’m siding with the American public, because most of them were smart enough to stay away from this tedious, unpleasant movie.       Grade:  C-

Director:  Martin Scorsese  Cast:  Robert De Niro, Cathy Moriarty, Joe Pesci, Frank Vincent, Nicholas Colasanto, Theresa Saldana, Mario Gallo, Frank Adonis, Joseph Bono, Frank Topham   Release:  1980

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