ZONE

Sun Ra Does Gershwin

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Wed, 26 Oct 2016 21:11:00 +0000

And then, suddenly, one afternoon, from out on the edges of the quantum foam comes the thought: I wonder if Sun Ra ever did any George Gershwin?

Of course Sun Ra did George Gershwin! They were both from outer space!

Why did it take me so long to make that connection? And to find a half dozen tunes! This one from 1960.

Ralph Ellison on Lester Young

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 24 Oct 2016 21:39:00 +0000

Ralph Ellison recalling his first encounter with a 20-year-old Lester Young back in 1929:

"A tall, intense young musician . . . who, with his heavy white sweater, blue stocking cap and up-and-out-thrust silver saxophone left absolutely no reed player and few young players of any instrument unstirred by the wild, excitingly original flights of his imagination. . . . Lester Young . . . with his battered horn upset the entire Negro section of town. . . . [We tried] to absorb and transform the Youngian style."

Bob Dylan: The Poet's Poet

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sat, 15 Oct 2016 21:47:00 +0000

The poet Michael McClure on Dylan in 1965: "I absolutely did NOT want to hear Dylan. I imagined, without admitting it to myself, that Dylan was a threat to poetry — or to my poetry. I sensed that a new mode of poetry, or rebirth of an old one, might replace my mode…. Joanna sat me down in front of the speaker and told me to listen to the words. I began to hear what the words were saying, not just the jangling of the guitar and the harmonica and the whining nasal voice. The next thing I knew I was crying. It was "Gates Of Eden.”… I had the idea that I was hallucinating, that it was William Blake's voice coming out of the walls and I stood up and put my hands on the walls and they were vibrating.

Then I went back to those people who had tried to get me to listen and I told them that I thought the revolution had begun."

Michael McClure's 1974 Rolling Stone article captures some of the profound excitement and revolutionary change Dylan represented in the mid-1960s.

Sinatra & Jobim: A Collaboration of Musical Greats

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 10 Oct 2016 21:04:00 +0000

Looking forward to giving this listening party on Sinatra & Jobim on Monday, October 17. Hear selections from their two collaborations and other songs that give a broader context to the recordings. Discover the stories behind some of the tunes, including the role of a young Candice Bergen in Jobim’s “Bonita.” Learn some of the history of Bossa Nova and Sinatra’s surprising role in its early development. Get an insider’s view of recording sessions that had the atmosphere of intimate party-concerts—with an audience that included Vanessa Redgrave, George Plimpton, Mia Farrow, and Quincy Jones. And dig into the mystery of an album that was never released and the rarest 8-track tape of all time.

Monday, October 17

6 pm

Landa Library

233 Bushnell Ave

San Antonio

Jobim in Hollywood

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Wed, 05 Oct 2016 21:52:00 +0000

Antônio Carlos Jobim. Hollywood, 1966.

Waiting around for Sinatra to show up for their recording sessions.

Frank Sinatra – In the Wee Small Hours (1955)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sat, 27 Aug 2016 22:49:00 +0000

The starting point for great album covers. By the musician who first understood the role of an image in contributing to the overall artistic mood of a recording, and designed by the father of album cover art, Alex Steinweiss.

"Sinatra was the first artist to construct an album that sought to unite thematic and musical elements rather than simply collect popular singles. Through sequencing and the cohesion of narratives within the lyrics—and even the iconic impact of the album covers themselves—Sinatra created an entire aural and emotional experience rather than a simple compilation." Robert C. Sickels - 100 Entertainers Who Changed America

There are several essays and scholarly articles that discuss the cover of In the Wee Small Hours, often connecting it with film noir. A few also mention its relation to the work of Edward Hopper. ("It appears as though Sinatra has been transplanted into one of Edward Hopper’s metropolitan settings such as 'Approaching City.'")

The cover was designed by Alex Steinweiss, who served as the sole graphic designer for Columbia Records from the late 1930s through the mid 1940s and basically developed the concept and language of album cover art. Here's an interesting article about him that features some of his other covers. Taschen also has a book devoted to his work.

PS: Credit also to Ava Gardner for making the album possible. Until she kicked Frank's ass and transformed him from a cocky pop star into an emotional wreck, he couldn't have produced this work. Without her, I don't think he would've become a great artist.

"Ava taught him how to sing a torch song. She taught him the hard way." -- Nelson Riddle.

In Ava, Sinatra finally met his match.

Sonny Rollins - Saxophone Colossus (1956)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Tue, 23 Aug 2016 22:59:00 +0000

I was debating between this cover and another great one: Thelonious Monk / Sonny Rollins (1954), but I had already posted one by Monk. Turns out, both covers were designed by the same person: Tom Hannan. Originally from Michigan, he was a jazz drummer when he was young, but then took up art. He moved to NYC in the early 1950s to study with Hans Hoffman and served as his studio assistant for three years. To earn money, he designed album covers for Prestige, Blue Note and other labels, including several covers for Rollins (Tenor Madness), Miles Davis, Red Garland and others. Later he moved to Vermont and became a dealer in fine American furniture and decorative arts. He died in 2000.

Biographical information on Hannan from "'In the Circle of Hans Hofmann: Works from the Hannan Art Collection' on view at Betty Krulik Fine Art, Ltd" at Art Daily.

Frontera Bugalú at The Squeezebox

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Fri, 19 Aug 2016 23:03:00 +0000

What Insomnia Looks Like

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Tue, 16 Aug 2016 23:07:00 +0000

Eric Dolphy – Out To Lunch (1964)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Tue, 16 Aug 2016 23:05:00 +0000

RIP Bobby Hutcherson.

"Unlike most Blue Note covers, which tended to be abstract geometrics or portraiture, Out To Lunch actually shares a joke. The clock in the store window announcing ‘will be back’ has seven hands. The Reid Miles photograph is bathed in indigo, creating one of the most iconic cover images ever produced." -- Greg Simmons at All About Jazz.

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 15 Aug 2016 23:19:00 +0000

“Fuchsia Floyd?”
“No.”
“Salmon Floyd?”
“Nah.”
“Roseate Floyd?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Coral Floyd?”
“Sounds like a girl folksinger.”
“Blush Floyd?”
“Bleh.”
“Flush Floyd?”
“No way.”
“I don’t know, Syd. I give up.”
“Damn it! Band names shouldn’t be so bloody hard!”

David Bowie - Aladdin Sane (1973)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 15 Aug 2016 23:17:00 +0000

"The famous red and blue lightning bolt which is painted across Bowie’s face was, in fact, inspired by the logo on a rice cooker in the studio kitchen. ‘In the studio we had a sort of mobile make-up table with mirrors on it, and on wheels,’ [Brian] Duffy's studio manager Francis Newman recalls. ‘I remember David sitting in front of that with Pierre Laroche, and they had obviously talked about using this flash. Well, Pierre started to apply this tiny little flash on his face and when Duffy saw it he said, ‘No, not fucking like that, like this.’ He literally drew it right across his face and said to Pierre, 'Now, fill that in.' It was actually Duffy who did the initial shape – I’m not saying he did the actual make-up. It then took Pierre about an hour to apply properly. The red flash is so shiny because it was actually lipstick.’

The decision to get Duffy in to shoot the Aladdin Sane album cover was made by Bowie’s then manager, Tony Defries. ‘I was looking for an iconic cover image and artwork that would help me to persuade RCA that Bowie was sufficiently important to warrant megastar treatment and funding, in order to propel him to exactly that status,’ Tony Defries remembers in the book Duffy/Bowie. ‘Engaging a master, world-class photographer to shoot the product/brand and to design the artwork was the best way to send that message. Brian had the ability to make the mundane image interesting and the interesting image fascinating.’"

From AnOther.com, "Flash of Genius: Photographing Aladdin Sane." Check it out for more information and other pictures from the photo shoot.

The original LP inside cover, when unfolded.

Thelonious Monk - Monk's Music (1957)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sun, 14 Aug 2016 23:29:00 +0000

"The image of Monk sitting in a little red wagon wearing a suit, sunglasses, and a plaid hat is one of the most memorable in all of jazz. The photograph is credited to Paul Weller and the cover design [to Paul] Bacon, but there is reason to believe that Monk was quite involved in the creation of this image. According to Monk, the original cover design included a photograph of himself in a cowl, standing at a pulpit and holding a glass of liquor. Monk objected to the image for reasons that are not altogether clear, and [Orrin] Keepnews, who was producing the session, agreed to change the cover. Monk claimed that the idea for the final image was his, although, of course, the staging, lighting, and other technical aspects of the photograph are no doubt the work of Weller. In any case, Monk clearly took an interest in the album cover and how it represented him. Perhaps it was a clever rejoinder to critics who had by then made a habit of describing him as childlike, the photo displaying the incongruity of a man, with nothing childish about him, sitting in a child’s wagon. Perhaps it was, as Monk himself claimed, simply an image he liked that represented his intensity: he was so involved with his music that when it struck him, he could compose anywhere, even in his son’s wagon."

Solis, Gabriel. Monk's music: Thelonious Monk and jazz history in the making, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2008.

Alice in den Städten (1974)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sun, 14 Aug 2016 23:27:00 +0000

9/10 - What a joyous experience watching this again for the first time in many years. It’s such a marvelous piece of cinema. Unavailable for a long time on DVD, partly because it was shot in 16 mm and the original negatives were badly damaged, it’s now out on Criterion. The cinematography by Robby Müller, especially in the opening road-trip sequence through the U.S., has to be some of the most stunning in film history. And that’s saying a lot, considering his opening sequence to _Paris, Texas_ would be another candidate. You could stop on almost any frame in the first ten minutes, and it would make a photograph worthy of hanging in a museum. Just absolutely brilliant. I was so sad to read this morning that Müller has been suffering for some time from vascular dementia, a degenerative disease that has left him unable to walk or talk. He was one of the greatest cinematographers in the last part of the 20th century. He and Wenders, particularly in this film, lead directly to Jim Jarmusch (who used Müller extensively in his own films) and Hal Hartley. (who seemed to cop the score by CAN for his own movies.) There’s such an intimacy in the filmmaking, in the acting, the photography, the writing, and it made me sad that Wenders lost that in his work somewhere along the way. In the commentary that comes with the film, he sounds wistful and nostalgic talking about how simple the film was to make, just him and a few people in the crew, following their instincts and shooting whatever they felt like, and how it would be impossible to do now. And Alexandra and I felt nostalgic watching the film, thinking of what life was like in the early 1970s, with Polaroid cameras (the new technology at the time), neon-lit motels, and the carefree nature of the hippie spirit still in the air.
The story wouldn’t work today – cell phones would resolve the situation immediately, and people would be much more guarded and scared. A somewhat lost German photojournalist wandering aimlessly around the U.S. wouldn’t wind up travelling with a nine-year-old girl back to Germany to find her grandmother. Such a simple story, but Rudy Vogler (a delight to see again) and the young Yella Rottländer give excellent performances. If that’s even the right term. They inhabit the film beautifully. Along with many non-actors that Wenders used. This is post-Godard cinema that was vibrant with wonder and poetry. “What should we do now?” It feels so alive because they were basically living out an experience. You sense the joy of a 28-year-old German who loved rock and roll and American culture drifting around the U.S. taking pictures and making up a story. Just wandering. In several of his earlier films, Wenders captured better, perhaps, than any American director a certain magic and mystery of being on the road. Alexandra said parts of the movie reminded her of W.G. Sebald, and I can see that. Although Peter Handke is the more direct influence. But there’s definitely a literary and poetic quality that seems rare in cinema these days. In any case, it’s a lovely movie. It used to be in my 100 Favorite Films but had dropped out because I hadn’t seen it in so long. It will definitely go back on that list when I do one again.

Joy Division - Unknown Pleasures (1979)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sat, 13 Aug 2016 23:35:00 +0000

Design by Peter Saville

Scientific American has an interesting story about one woman's obsession with the image and her quest to find the origins of the pulsar data visualization on the cover and the research behind it: Pop Culture Pulsar: Origin Story of Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures Album Cover

Bill Evans and Jim Hall - Undercurrent (1962)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Thu, 11 Aug 2016 23:37:00 +0000

#greatalbumcovers

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Tue, 02 Aug 2016 23:43:00 +0000

Three Noirs by Anthony Mann

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Thu, 19 Mar 2015 23:11:00 +0000

Renoir Noir

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Fri, 13 Mar 2015 19:55:00 +0000

6.5/10 – Jean Renoir fled France in 1940 and spent seven frustrating years in Hollywood making five American films. The Woman on the Beach was his final Hollywood project, usually classified as a film noir, though it feels more like a psychological drama with norish elements. It’s an interesting but flawed endeavor that struck me as being bizarrely edited or even unfinished. It’s only 71 minutes long, for one thing. I began to suspect that there must have been some longer original version that the studio chopped up over Renoir’s objections. Turns out that the story of its production was a little more complicated than that.

There was a lot riding on the project, as Renoir’s earlier Hollywood films hadn’t done that well by commercial standards. Though he had struggled within the confines of the studio system, he enjoyed being in Hollywood and wanted to stay, so he was determined to make a successful movie. The story had a lot of potential. Here’s Richard Brody’s description: “A Second World War veteran (Robert Ryan) who suffers from post-traumatic stress, including nightmares of a torpedoed and sinking ship and his own near-drowning, works as a Coast Guard officer in a small seaside community. In his lonely waterfront wanderings, he meets, amid ruins, a glossy and brooding woman (Joan Bennett). There’s an instant erotic spark between them, and she invites him to her cottage. There, he meets her husband (Charles Bickford), a formerly well-regarded painter who is now blind—and who possessively brings the young man into the household for company. But the brewing romance between the youngsters (not to spoil the plot) is troubled by an ugly element of backstory between husband and wife.”

Renoir got along well with Joan Bennett, who spoke fluent French, and enjoyed working on the film. He felt happy with the results. But in September 1946, the movie was given a preview at the University of Santa Barbra, and the crowd hated it. Evidently, Renoir hadn’t followed the conventions of the mystery genre to their liking. There’s conflicting information now about what happened next, whether studio bosses ordered extensive changes or Renoir himself was responsible. In a later interview with Francois Truffaut, he claimed, “I was the first to advise cut and changes.” Obviously, his previous experiences with producer Daryl Zanuck and Renoir’s own desire to succeed may have prompted him to revise the film in a way he thought would please the studio. In any case, he wound up re-shooting between one-third and one-half of the film and completely re-editing it. Nothing helped. It failed miserably at the box office and received harsh criticism when it was finally released a year later. Unfortunately, there is no known copy of his original version, nor any surviving footage of that attempt. So we are left to wonder what might have been.

Even in its “mutilated” form, the film still has fans. Some, like French director Jacques Rivette, consider it a masterpiece. And Brody calls it one of his favorite films. For him, The Woman on the Beach “has a dreadful, oneiric allure that bursts with a dark brilliance into an emotional and artistic apocalypse. It’s one of the great endings, one that foreshadows, remarkably, that of another noir classic, ‘Kiss Me Deadly,’ directed by Robert Aldrich, who was Renoir’s assistant director.” I thought it had some fascinating moments and some potential in the plot. The fact that the husband in this tense triangle is a famous painter is certainly interesting, considering Renoir’s own background. The acting is very good throughout, and some of the moody photography in the abandoned ship along the beach is wonderful. But the writing itself, at least in this version, feels clunky and somewhat predictable, despite whatever Freudian allusions may be offered. It’s worth watching, primarily because it’s Renoir. But it doesn’t come anywhere near his great masterpieces, or even excellent work like The River, which would turn out to be his next project and helped re-establish his reputation after his difficult Hollywood sojourn.

I’ll let Renoir have the last word on The Woman on the Beach:

“Although I don’t regret my American films, I know for a fact they don’t even come close to any ideal I have for my work . . . they represent seven years of unrealized works and unrealized hopes. And seven years of deceptions too . . .”

Concern - Misfortune

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 09 Mar 2015 15:17:00 +0000

Drone music for a rainy, quiet Monday on a deserted campus during spring break. An interesting project I just discovered this morning, called Concern. This is from the most recent release, "Misfortune," which was created entirely with a box harp and field recordings.

"The fundamental link between all Concern releases is the strict use of acoustic instruments (and field recordings) as source sounds, meaning no electronic instruments or signal generators were used.... The initial box harp sounds on Misfortune were recorded in two house basements, then broadcast from car stereo speakers and re-recorded in several hospital parking garages in Portland, Oregon. There are also field recordings from public locations, specifically the Cathedral of St. Michael and St. Gudula in Brussels and an indoor public market in Hamburg. The intent of utilizing the hospital parking garages was to explore and document the reaction of the box harp tones in thematically relevant and acoustically unique spaces. These underground, concrete garages are not only ideal locations as guerrilla reverberation chambers, but also contain deep feelings of veiled emergency, quiet desperation, and anonymous suffering, especially late at night."

The quote comes from Rick Moody's interview with Gordon Ashworth, the guy behind concern.

Kill Your Darlings (2013)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sat, 07 Mar 2015 20:58:00 +0000

6.5/10 – Kill Your Darlings is a coming of age story about a young, somewhat awkward kid from New Jersey in his first year at Columbia University and the circle of friends he becomes involved with. They get into mischief, they have intense discussions, they’re exploring boundaries, exploring their sexuality, exploring their own self-identity, not unlike many young people going off to college for the first time. It just happens that the Jersey kid is Allen Ginsberg, and his friends include Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs. Interestingly, though, they’re not really the center of the story. That would be Lucien Carr, who dazzles the young Ginsberg with his literary knowledge, vibrant energy and desire to live life big. But Lucien is involved in an unhealthy relationship with an older man who’s part mentor, part lover, and part stalker. Things deteriorate until there is a murder that winds up involving everyone in this happy-crazy little circle. Based on real events, Kill Your Darlings does a good job of showing Ginsberg’s transformation from a shy, somewhat innocent kid into the young, more experienced and interesting man who would go on to become one of the most important poets of the 20th century. Though there’s plenty of potential for joking about Harry Potter playing Allen Ginsberg (Columbia=Hogwarts, Burroughs=Weasley, etc.), I thought Daniel Radcliffe was actually very good. He certainly nails the look of young Ginsberg, and he brings an Everyman quality to the role which makes it easy to like and relate to the poet, which I think is important. Dane DeHaan is mesmerizing as Lucien Carr, looking like a young David Bowie and definitely conveying the kind of charismatic intensity that would attract young impressionable poets to him. Ben Foster has a fun turn as Burroughs. There are some amusing scenes with the three of them, especially one at a jazz club when Ginsberg is super-wired on one of the multitudinous drug offerings that Burroughs carries around in his suitcase. The film never reaches any great heights, especially considering the subject matter. It’s a rather traditional Hollywood movie about the Beats, and it has the feel at times of a young adult novel, but that didn’t seem to bother me very much for some reason. I thought it was an interesting story and that it was told well and with care. It’s fun seeing Ginsberg & Co. in their youth, but it also brought a wry smile to my face as I thought about the excitement of that time in my own life, when the world seemed so fascinating and it was possible to start a literary revolution. Those dopey college kids actually managed to do it.

American Sniper (2014)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 02 Mar 2015 21:10:00 +0000

7/10 - There's a lot one could write about in discussing American Sniper. It's a much more interesting and complex film than many have made it out to be. First of all, I would say that it’s not really about the war in Iraq or sniper Chris Kyle, on whose autobiography the story is based. Yes, Clint Eastwood uses those specific elements to tell his tale, but it’s clear that his real objective is tackling much broader themes, such as the nature of violence and the effects of war on those who wage it. Richard Brody, from The New Yorker, says the film is “political in the highest sense of the word. [Eastwood] dramatizes the use and abuse of state power in the light of great philosophical ideas.” I think that’s what led to Bradley Cooper’s clumsy statement that the film “wasn’t political.” It’s actually a very political film, and an intriguing one, but it’s not specifically about the political aspects of the invasion of Iraq or the cultural politics surrounding the figure of Chris Kyle. It’s a film that should probably leave people on either side of the liberal-conservative spectrum somewhat uneasy in the end. If someone believes it’s just a patriotic movie about Kyle and our invasion of Iraq, then I think they are only seeing what they want to see.

Alex Trimble Young, in an interesting analysis in Salon, calls American Sniper a “revisionist western,” and it’s clear that Eastwood structured the film along these lines. Kyle was a modern-day cowboy (rodeo rider) from Texas who goes off to “the Wild West in the Old Middle East” to fight the “savages.” He sees himself as a gun-slinging lawman out to protect his men (and women) and his ideal of civilization. He faces another “bad” gunslinger (a sniper from Syria fighting for Al-Qaeda), and the climax of the movie comes in the form of a long-distance showdown between the two. Eastwood even references a famous shot from The Searchers early on in the movie to let us know what he’s doing. Young writes, “In the tradition of the greatest westerns… ‘American Sniper’ offers up its familiar western narrative not as a triumphalist myth but as a disturbing object for contemplation and critique. The film’s point of view cleaves to Kyle’s in such a way that it both immerses its viewers in his Manichaean worldview and, at crucial moments, alienates us from it. From the violence that is visually foregrounded in the now infamous ‘sheepdog’ scene until the shot that foreshadows Kyle’s murder, ‘American Sniper’ tells a story of a man who is unable to insulate his family or his homeland from the violence of the war he is fighting. Like John Wayne’s character, Ethan, in ‘The Searchers,’ his own character is under threat of being overtaken by the very savage violence he set out to quell.”

Some have complained that Kyle was a more problematic figure than how he's portrayed, but I think that’s missing the entire point of the film. Eastwood and screenwriter Jason Hall have obviously created a character based on Kyle that is purposefully seen as a kind of perfect soldier who sees everything in black and white, believes fervently in his mission, strives to protects his buddies and his homeland and does an excellent job with his ability as a marksman. Yet, in the end, what happens to this person? He has becomes something less than human, as his wife struggles to make him realize thoughout the film, and despite all of his valiant efforts, his fellow soldiers are killed or return home disfigured, maimed and/or totally disturbed. Even the most fervent believer, Eastwood shows us, is ultimately destroyed by the war and undone by violence. In one of the most powerfully symbolic scenes in the film, U.S. forces are literally constructing a wall to try and “contain the violence” in Sadr City, but their engineers keep getting picked off by the Syrian sniper. Kyle finally kills the bad guy responsible, but just as soon as he does, he and his men have to abandon their position as they are swarmed by many other “savages” and overcome by the natural environment of the land they have invaded in the form of a giant sandstorm. Kyle’s most cherished personal belongings, those items which most give him his identity, his rifle and his pocket Bible, end up buried under the sand. In the end, Kyle can’t even prevent the violence against himself, as he is killed not by the enemy abroad but by a fellow solider, a U.S. Marine, also from Texas, suffering from PTSD.

American Sniper is expertly filmed and well-directed. Bradley Cooper gives a great performance as Kyle, much of it silently and through body language, transforming from easy-going cowboy to a man intensely hunkered down in himself and trying to remain human. In one of the best scenes of the movie, he’s approached in an auto repair shop by a Marine whose life he saved earlier, but he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t even look the man in the eye or deal with the man’s gratitude. I thought about Cooper’s performance here in comparison to his role as the coiffure-obsessed man living with his mother in American Hustle, and I have a greater appreciation for his range as an actor.
Despite its grand ambitions and high level of craftsmanship, though, American Sniper never becomes the kind of great film it could have been. There’s a hesitation at the heart of the film that keeps Eastwood from pursuing some of the harder themes to their full conclusion. He lets up at the end just enough to keep the film from reaching another level. That same hesitation may also be responsible for opening the door to various kinds of cultural criticism. And maybe it’s just too soon to create a larger, more mythic story from what has happened to us and to the Iraqis because of our misguided invasion. The horrors have been great and continue even now. But American Sniper is not just some jingoistic exercise. As Brody concludes his own article, “Far from patriotic pomp, it’s a vision that sees past the still eye of the American self-image to the whirlwind.”

Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Mon, 02 Mar 2015 16:24:00 +0000

6/10 - I don’t know what to say about this one. Kingsman is a bizarre, over-the-top spoof on James Bond films that is very funny at times and fairly entertaining overall but not really my cup of tea. Colin Firth plays Harry Hart, a member of a super-secret spy organization that’s supposedly not associated with any nation but whose members are all British gentlemen. When one of their agents is killed, Harry recruits a disgruntled street kid who is the son of a former Kingman who died saving Harry’s life. Meanwhile, Samuel Jackson plays Valentine, a billionaire tech mogul who started out trying to stop climate change but has now decided that it’s too late and the only thing left to do is to kill most of humanity. I give the movie one star just for Jackson’s lisp. Colin Firth is surprisingly good in a tricky role, and I’m impressed to read that he did most of his own stunts, which is impressive given some of his action sequences. I wonder what distinguished one over-the-top film from another? I like some but don’t like others quite as much. This one just feels a little too oriented for 15-year old males - or females, who actually give it a higher rating on IMDB. It’s based on a comic book and feels like a video game at times, and I’m tired of both elements in cinema, so that may be part of why I couldn’t enjoy it fully, though I can still laugh at several of the scenes. Some will enjoy it much more than I did, I’m sure. If you liked the Kick Ass movies, this is the same director. For what it's worth, Alexandra gave it a 7. Bloody Colin Firth.

Mr. Turner (2014)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sun, 22 Feb 2015 21:01:00 +0000

8/10 - One of the most beautifully filmed movies I’ve seen in a while and a thoughtful, searching portrayal of the artist J.M.W. Turner, thankfully free of the usual clichéd tropes of the Hollywood biopic. It also felt like the longest, slowest film I’ve seen in a long time, and after two and a half hours, I was grateful when it was over. I don’t recommend seeing this if you’re tired. But I wake up this morning realizing what a special film it was and how much I would like to experience it again on a big screen, to luxuriate in that lush, slow-moving world. Cinematographer Dick Pope has done a tremendous job of creating a film that looks and feels like a Turner painting at times yet also remains clearly and precisely etched when depicting the ordinary aspects of the artist’s life or his process of creating those amazing paintings. Pope's work on Mr. Turner has garnered him nominations from 12 different organizations and festivals, including an Oscar bid and a win at Cannes. Timothy Spall has also received numerous nominations and wins for his wonderful portrayal of Turner, though not from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences, which is too bad. Spall’s work inhabiting a complex, difficult man and making him feel so vividly real and human seems at another level compared to some of the Oscar nominees. He spent two years learning how to paint for this role and did intensive biographical and historical research, along with director Mike Leigh, to flesh out this character who was the son of a middle-class barber who rose to great fame as an artist only to endure misunderstanding and ridicule towards the end of his life as his works became less representational and closer to what would later be called Impressionism. Leigh abandons the normal narrative structure of a biographical film, which means there’s not much “drama” in the movie, but he gives us something much richer instead – long, unhurried stretches with an artist at work, in the quotidian moments of his life, or having to deal with ridiculous social conveniences of Victorian England, such as an interminable discussion of gooseberries between critic John Ruskin, his parents, and several artists. As Andrew O’Hehir said in his review of the film, “Viewers expecting a Harvey Weinstein-style period drama, or who go in consciously or unconsciously yearning for a three-act structure, are likely to find themselves bored and frustrated…. This is a richly detailed, wrenching and often upsetting story about a man who may not have been especially satisfying to others as a human being, but who spent every day reaching for the ineffable and ungraspable meanings behind observable events – or at least trying to see them, which may come to the same thing.” All I know is that I wake up today wishing I lived near the Tate Gallery, so I could go see Turner’s work. I’ll have to make do with a book from the library, I suppose.

Where Danger Lives (1950)

noreply@blogger.com (cowboyangel) — Sat, 21 Feb 2015 21:04:00 +0000

8/10 - Continuing with a series of Robert Mitchum noirs. His biographer calls Where Danger Lives “one of the darkest and most unrelenting examples of the film noir genre.” In this one, Mitchum plays a young doctor on the verge of great success, beloved by children and a pretty, understanding nurse. One night, as he’s about to go off duty, a suicide attempt gets rolled into the emergency room. She’s beautiful and mysterious! You can see the good doctor becoming entranced as he saves her life - while his devoted girlfriend nurse watches him during the procedure. But, come on, Bob, this dark-haired beauty just tried to kill herself! You don’t want to get mixed up with that! She’s also rich. With an abusive father. So, naturally, Mitch gets more and more involved, and you can only shake your head and say, "Bob, Bob, Bob... What are you doing?!" Then it turns out that her “father” is actually her husband! (Great smaller role for Claude Rains – I love Claude Rains). He tries to warn the young doctor that she’s crazy, and it’s so clear that there’s some seriously messed up stuff going on between this married couple. But Bob gets drunk – so torn up is he by this femme tres fatale. There’s a violent fight with Claude. Bob gets hit on the head with a fireplace poker. When he wakes up, Claude is dead and Bob has a major concussion. The woman says they have to run away to Mexico, and Bob, being groggy and not thinking clearly, agrees! So they start off on their dark journey to the border. Bob, being a doctor, realizes that his head injury is serious and that he could die at any moment! And everything is totally foggy and he can't think straight. It's like being trapped in a nightmare and not being able to wake up. He’s being chased by the police, hounded by a psychotic woman and making lots of bad decisions - because, he’s literally out of his mind. And it only gets worse...

The cinematography is by the great Nicolas Musuraca, who did Out of the Past, and the visuals are great throughout. (Mitchum said it was one of his many films “lit by matches.”) Real noir. The set-up of the concussion allows the director and cinematographer to get in some wonderfully surreal scenes. Very efficient directing by John Farrow, who was, evidently, a sick tyrant on the set – Mitchum’s agent “ran screaming at his throat” at one point, because he kept making Bob fall down a dangerous set of stairs instead of using a stunt man, and after several of these takes, Mitchum finally told Farrow to be fruitful and multiply, but not in those words. The screenplay, piling up one outlandishly extreme scenario after another, is actually by Charles Bennett, Hitchcock’s old screenwriter, who did The 39 Steps, Secret Agent, The Man Who Knew Too Much, Foreign Correspondent, etc. The only real drawback to the film is Faith Domergue, who plays the femme fatale. She does pretty well as a crazy woman, but I would like to have seen another actress in the role. Jane Greer, perhaps, who worked with Mitch on Out of the Past and The Big Steal. Or Gloria Grahame – that would’ve been interesting. All in all, it’s a classic noir, not one of the greatest but interesting and worth watching, with Robert Mitchum out of his head. Relentless is a good word. It gets on a roll, heading downhill fast to “the border” – the mystical line between love and hate, sanity and madness, and darkness and its even darker shadow.