Showing posts with label what's wrong with Hollywood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what's wrong with Hollywood. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Shout outs for three (sorta) silent movies


I try and keep people posted on our pop culture consumption by sharing my opinions of recent movies we’ve seen. But there are two movies we enjoyed very much at home about which I haven’t said a word.

It’s maybe because the movies barely say a word.

Yes, two of my favorite movies from the past few years are silent films.

The first is “The Artist,” released in ’11. It’s hard to think of a movie that had more going against it.

It was a silent movie. It was black and white. It had subtitles. It was French!

So as you may have guessed, this wasn’t the kind of film that was going to draw the spillover crowd when the latest version of “Fast and Furious” sold out.

In fact, I have no idea why in all my research it is referred to as French.

It’s a silent movie, for Pete’s, er, Pierre’s sake!

It’s not like the subtitles were French. They were English. Still, the experts call it a French film and who am I to argue?

The two stars, Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo, are French. But it also co-stars John Goodman, and he’s as American apple pie. Well, given his usual girth, he’s about American as six dozen apple pies.

And -- ooh! la! la! -- you should see this Berenice Bejo. Beautiful. 

But it scored 98 percent on RottenTomatoes.com and won five Academy Awards, including Best Picture. I figured it had to be decent.

Now we watched this movie at home and our home viewing habits are sloppy. We usually do it over lunch and are running back and forth to the kitchen for refills, salt & pepper, etc. Sometimes we’re scanning the newspapers.

You can’t do this with a silent movie.

Silent movies demand your full attention. You can’t await telltale dialogue to signal when it’s time to engage. But this movie was just great. I wholeheartedly recommend it. 

I’m maybe the only observer to call this second movie a silent movie, but as you’ll see from historical precedent it, indeed, is.

It’s “All is Lost,” starring the peerless Robert Redford.

And no one else.

It was one of the most unusual movies I’ve ever seen. I read where the script was just 31 pages long. How this could be is a mystery, because Redford is shown speaking just one single word.

And, hallelujah, it is the f-bomb!

The fact will make wonderful trivia in a few years: “Name the only major Hollywood release with one word spoken on camera and that one word is the f-bomb?”

The whole film is about him fighting to keep his sinking sailboat from going under. There’s storms, sharks and all the elements that keep sane people like me on dry land.

But it’s just great. Redford’s a real treasure. He’s 77, does all his own stunts and his every gesture and glance is compelling.

I kept thinking, “He’s still handsome, vigorous and still imbued with a tremendous spark and, geez, the guy’s just four years younger than my mom. How does he do it?”

He was so good part of me began wishing he was my mom. That’d be super cool.

So there’s two offbeat films you may have missed. The titles may seem surprising coming from such a mainstream kind of guy like me, someone who just selected “Caddyshack” and “City Slickers” as weekend educational fare for the 13 year old.

In fact, I’ve always loved silent movies.

Correction: I’ve always loved “Silent Movie.”

Does that ring a bell? I keep thinking I’m the only guy who remembers that great 1976 Mel Brooks movie.

In the canon of great Brooks movies -- primarily “Blazing Saddles” and “Young Frankenstein” -- “Silent Movie” seems to have been forgotten. It hasn’t been on TV for I’ll bet 30 years.

I wonder if it still holds up. That was a long time ago, clear back when I thought I still had a shot at marrying Loni Anderson.

But I clearly remember “Silent Movie” featured one of the funniest scenes ever.

It’s the one in which Brooks, Dom Deluise and googly-eyed genius Marty Feldman  asked Frenchman Marcel Marceau, to this day still the world’s most famous mime, if he’d consider being in their silent movie.

Marceau says, “No!”

So the only word spoken in a film called “Silent Movie” is said by the world’s most famous mime.

Brilliant.

Now, to me, that’s a French film.



Related . . .






Tuesday, July 9, 2013

"Lone Ranger," "Grown Ups 2" & what's wrong with Hollywood


The admission, I know, makes me appear petty, but I always have a spring in my step the Monday after a really big budget movie bombs.

This runs contrary to my every instinct to exalt creative people in whatever they’re endeavoring to do.

I encourage struggling artists, musicians and writers, even as I know I’d be better off if every other writer simultaneously decided it was time to just give up.

But when a $225 million movie like “The Lone Ranger” earns just $45 million, I have to keep from razzing out loud: “Good for you, you bums. You stink! I hope you trip on your next red carpet!” 

Some experts are blaming the bomb on their belief that the movie is a Western and Westerns since 1975 have underperformed. A USA Today article lumped “Lone Ranger” in with Will Smith’s “Wild, Wild West” (1999) and “Cowboys & Aliens” (2011) as indicative that movie goers disdain Westerns.

Well, take it from someone who for about two hours every weekend manages to find time to enjoy some vintage John Wayne movie, nothing about the three above mentioned flicks seems Western to me.

They were action films, little different from ones about cartoon superheroes. I saw Johnny Depp as Tonto and thought, “Oh, joy, it’s old Jack Sparrow on a pony. Not for me.”

True Westerns include the recent blockbuster remake of Wayne’s “True Grit,” and “Django Unchained,” a Western I skipped it because I don’t want to endorse Quentin Tarantino’s brand of hyper-violence that by comparison make zombie films seem dainty.

No great Westerns since 1975? Horse poop.

I still watch “Unforgiven,” (1992), “3:10 to Yuma” (2007), “The Outlaw Josie Wales” (1976), “Pale Rider” (1985), “Tombstone” (1993), and think “Silverado” from 1985 is as entertaining a Western as anything ever filmed by The Duke.

And who could forget the one of the greatest TV miniseries of all-time, the sublime “Lonesome Dove,” and, yeah, I still get the shivers every time I recall the hanging of Jake Spoon.

I think the thing that infuriates me about Hollywood is there is no real minor league.

Fail repeatedly at any other job and you get demoted or fired. A beloved slugger gets sent to the minors when he can no longer belt the curve; floors in an architect’s building cave and it’s back to designing Taco Bells; writers who come up with too many loser book proposals get banished to the literary underbelly of blogger irrelevance.

And, hey, thanks for stopping by!

My point is life is a meritocracy.

Just not in Hollywood.

If it was we wouldn’t this week all be overexposed to Adam Sandler, who is everywhere giving us a perfect example of precisely what’s wrong with the film industry.

I thought there must be some mistake when I saw a promotion for “Grown Ups.” That stinker was three years old. Then I realized there had indeed been a mistake -- and Hollywood is making it.

This is “Grown Ups 2!”

I couldn’t believe it. 

The original 2010 movie did well at the box office. Of course it did. It starred Sandler, Kevin James, Chris Rock and David Spade. But I detected no cultural groundswell of movie goers clamoring for a sequel to a movie that scored 9 percent on www.rottentomatoes.com.

Yet, that’s exactly what we’re getting.

Have these people no artistic integrity? 

Apparently not.

It would be one thing if I could ignore the movie, which I’ll certainly do. But it will be impossible for anyone to ignore the promotion.

This morning the cast was yukking it up on the set of ABC’s “Good Morning America.” It wasn’t just a guest promo either. They were on for the whole show. So, clearly, whomever owns ABC has a vested interest in “Grown Ups 2” succeeding.

We are suffocating from a conspiracy of mediocrity.

I think I’ll write a screenplay about a has-been Hollywood actor who gets busted down to re-appreciate his craft by running a high school drama club out in the middle of nowhere.

It’s going to have a happy ending, I promise.

He’ll never be heard from again.



Related . . .