"M*A*S*H" MEDICINAL

          You'd never know it to watch the film, but Donald Sutherland and Elliott Gould went behind the director's back and tried to get him fired because they thought he was crazy, and they didn't want this crazy man to ruin their film careers.
          The director with the supposedly questionable mental health was Robert Altman. What made the stars think the director was crazy was the totally innovative way that he filmed his outrageous, irreverent, blasphemous, hilarious anti-authoritarian masterpiece, M*A*S*H (1970).
          Writer Ring Lardner, Jr., rightly recognized the quality of the book by Richard Hooker. From his interest, and his screenplay, the project came into the hands of Altman, who then proceeded to film an improvisation of that screenplay. Which infuriated Lardner. It's this improv-style which was so original that cast members literally feared for Altman's sanity, and mostly for their careers.
          But the end result proved that Altman's method was totally right. Everyone knew their characters so well from the script that they were able to discard it and give a freer, more natural expression with no one ever knowing exactly what Altman was filming or keeping. People talk over each other. There's a general murmur of background noise. The result is a non-linear counterculture victory, a slam-dunk against blind conformity for the ages.
          The time, 1951. The place, Korea. (Set in Korea, yes, but the subtext at times was the military action taking place in Vietnam.) At the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, two indispensable military surgeons retain their sanity, in the midst of so much opposite, with a stringent regimen of martinis, nurses, golf, bathrobes, Hawaiian shirts and poker. The surgeons are captains Hawkeye Pierce (Sutherland) and "Trapper" John McIntyre (Gould). When they're not sewing up kids sent back from the front line, they're taking apart a couple of majors who take themselves too seriously.
          Because theirs is a corrupting influence, the brilliant surgeons relentlessly ride the village idiot, Frank Burns (Duvall), who unforgivably reads aloud from the Bible right in front of decent people trying to get loaded.
          Burns' attractive yet hopelessly square fraulein friend Margaret Houlihan (Kellerman) sees beady eye-to beady eye with him at all times mid-goosestep, which is just the sort of thing to put Hawkeye right off his dinner. Bummer, too, because he otherwise would have invited her back to his tent, and she "might possibly have come."
          Twentieth Century Fox studio heads had zero idea the hit on their hands. No awareness at all. They were ready to scrap it. Until, that is, they saw the reaction from a preview audience. The audience didn't just love it, they went totally crazy for it! So then the studio scrambled to start taking credit.
          The film, which launched several acting careers and spawned into one of the best shows ever on TV, even won an Academy Award. And the Oscar went to...Ring Lardner, Jr.
          For the script they eventually didn't even use.



M*A*S*H
Starring Donald Sutherland,
Elliott Gould,
Sally Kellerman,
Robert Duvall,
Tom Skerrit,
Gary Burghoff,
Roger Bowen,
Jo Ann Pflug
Directed by Robert Altman
Written by Ring Lardner, Jr.
Based on the book by Richard Hooker
Runtime 116 minutes


Stewart Kirby writes for
THE INDEPENDENT

ORIGINAL "VILLAGE" DAMNED GOOD

                    One fine day in a rural English village, without any warning, all the animals and people suddenly collapse. The farmer in his tractor, slumped over the wheel, spins in slow wide circles till the tractor hits a tree. And even then he doesn't budge. No one does. Not even George Sanders, who had starred in a string of B-grade amateur detective flicks a generation earlier before passing the baton to his younger brother.
          After a couple hours of utter insensibility, Sanders manages to haul his genteel carcass up from the floor, rather as though he'd just been sleeping one off curled up with the dog. "What an extraordinary thing to do," he says, trying to cover up to his wife who caught him fair and square.
          Soon, however, the whole village learns that everyone there went lights out at the same time and stayed that way for a few hours. What an extraordinary thing indeed. Gradually, they also learn something further: all the women of child-bearing age have now become pregnant. Some of whom, presumably just like George Sanders' wife, have never had sex in their lives.
          All the babies gestate at an accelerated rate, each one a marvel of development. When they are born, all have blonde hair, arresting eyes, and are uniformly in possession of remarkable intelligence. Intellectual powers so vast, these kids can make people do things without ever saying a word.
          Whenever someone tries to hurt them, they know it in advance. They don't have to say a thing. Those who would try to hurt them cannot help but stop. And receive a stringent lesson in the only thing that matters to Midwich's most gifted young minds: the only thing they want is to be left alone.
          Village of the Damned (1960) is a gem of a picture with a story which may seem familiar even to those who've never seen it. Rod Serling sure did. One of the most famous episodes of The Twilight Zone, "It's a Good Life," stars Billy Mumy as a creepy kid who can read people's minds and do anything he wants.
          Serling's take focuses on the problems of an "overly permissive" society allowing children to run rampant. But the original film from which he was so permissively allowed to directly lift comes from a different place entirely. The director, Wolf Rilla, was born in Berlin. When Adolf Hitler was suckering Germany, Rilla's father, who was Jewish, moved the family to England. So the real problem in the story isn't young people on the brink of peace, love, and rock n' roll. The real problem is blonde inhuman aliens who think that they're superior.
          Re-made not as well in 1995 by John Carpenter, and re-made even more not as well as a television series in 2017, Village of the Damned inexorably demands to be seen, heard, and obeyed.



VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED
Starring George Sanders,
Barbara Shelley,
Michael Gwynn,
Laurence Naismith,
Martin Stephens
Directed by Wolf Rilla
Written by Stirling Silliphant, Wolf Rilla, Ronald Kinnoch
Based on the novel by John Wyndham



Stewart Kirby writes for
THE INDEPENDENT









       

"ANGEL HEART" UNBEATABLE

          From 32 years ago, a movie set 32 years prior.
          Angel Heart (1987) stars Mickey Rourke as New York gumshoe Harry Angel in the wild and wooly world of 1955. Tasked by enigmatic client Louis Cyphre (De Niro) to find once-famous crooner Johnny Favorite, Angel sniffs around the city until the trail he picks up leads him down to New Orleans.
          There he seeks a Margaret Krusemark (Rampling) and meets beautiful young Evangeline Proudfoot (Bonet), whose mother, she recalls, once knew Johnny Favorite. Though Krusemark and Proudfoot move in different circles, they share a common interest in what Angel sees as voodoo mumbo jumbo. Oddly enough, everywhere he goes, people wind up dead. And the deeper Angel goes, the more Angel wants out.
          Excellently shot, featuring standout performances, Angel Heart exudes black Gothic mystery. It's got sex, it's got sax, and it's jam-packed with violence back when Rourke first turned heads as an actor invoking comparisons with James Dean and Marlon Brando.
          Rourke recently revealed that during shooting De Niro did not want to talk with or in any way associate with Rourke. Clearly this was simply partly of De Niro's professional process in preparation for the role, but not all actors appreciate this sort of thing, and Rourke seems to have taken offense at De Niro's method. Yet to watch the film, you'd never know it.
          Hell of a story, too. Complete with original use of elements from Greek Tragedy.
          Lisa Bonet has said that Bill Cosby--she played a daughter on his popular TV show at that time--was livid with rage with her for her part in the film, which includes a racy sex scene.
          A Faustian tale draped in Spanish moss, and well worth tracking down.


ANGEL HEART
Starring Mickey Rourke,
Robert De Niro,
Lisa Bonet,
Charlotte Rampling,
Directed by Alan Parker
Written and directed by Alan Parker
Based on the novel by William Hjortsberg
Runtime 113 minutes



Stewart Kirby writes for
THE INDEPENDENT

WHY SCORSESE AND COPPOLA ARE RIGHT

          Martin Scorsese, director of Raging Bull and Goodfellas, when asked what he thinks of Marvel movies, responded that they aren't cinema. Several days later, Francis Ford Coppola, director of The Godfather and Apocalypse Now, went even further, adding that the Marvel product is actually even despicable.
          They're right.
          The reason for that is the same reason that artificially colored and flavored kiddie breakfast cereal, although it sells quite well, is in no way to be considered cuisine. They're right for the same reason that we (to date) don't place Daredevil issue number 47 alongside To Kill a Mockingbird as an example of great literature.
          What we've got here is a case of the emperor wearing no clothes.
          The qualitative aspect associated with the word "cinema" is central to the "not cinema" assertion. Quality exceeds quantity. Nor does the box-office ever have anything to do with quality. One Marvel movie director, James Gunn, in defense of what he does, has stated that when Scorsese and Coppola were starting out, "many of our grandfathers" rejected what these new guys were doing. But he offers zero specificity, and the generalized comparison he imagines is inaccurate, anyway.
          In terms of culture, what we've been getting for a long time is plain old ripped off. We would all do well to remember that the Motion Picture Association of America has never been headed by the artist with the best film talent. In fact, it's a political appointment. So perhaps it's no coincidence that the spigot through which film must pass, particularly all this century so far, has produced consistently infantilizing fare. Not in keeping with the spirit of the original comics, either. Spider-Man was always Stan Lee's favorite. But the movies reduce him at the expense of elevating the fabulously rich Tony Stark whose only power is having money that he inherited. It is also worth noting that in the Marvel movie universe, there is no such thing as Due Process of law.
          Has there ever been a good superhero movie? Sure, you bet. The first Superman movie with Christopher Reeve, the first Batman with Michael Keaton. Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man, Christian Bale as the Dark Knight. Are any of these movies as important in film as Citizen Kane? No, they're not. That's because filmmaking geniuses like Orson Welles, Francis Ford Coppola, and Martin Scorsese, while not an absolute rarity, do not comprise the norm.
          Scorsese equated Marvel movies with theme parks. Fair assessment. After all, the number one name in theme parks owns Marvel movies. Are Marvel movies about "human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being"? No, and Scorsese justly calls it. Marvel movies are highly episodic vehicles for special effects, with uniform appearance and suspect content comparable to a fast food cheeseburger. Fast food cheeseburgers make a lot of money, but that doesn't make them filet mignon.
          Those who get all gooey over Marvel movies, in looking for heroics, should look no further than Coppola himself. Cinema-sense tingling, he detected trouble in the Twitterverse--which, by the way, is a cheeseburger all its own--and, donning his nanotech Despica-suit, flew into action, blasting away in defense of Scorsese.
          "Watch out for the infantilizing ray!" Scorsese called out, swiftly casting a power-shield spell.
          But Coppola was already swinging his mighty movie camera, the one that only he can pick up and which always returns to his waiting hand.
          Then Stanley Kubrick swung down on his magic lasso while Alfred Hitchcock used his amazing film reel power to cartwheel into the fray like a one-man radial arm saw, and the forces of the Twitterverse retreated.
          "We've done it," said David Lean, only now materializing. "We defeated the Schlockites."
          "Yes," Elia-Man concurred in his spectacular Kazan-mobile. "But...for how long?"



Stewart Kirby writes for
THE INDEPENDENT

"RIGHT ONE" RIGHT ON

          Q: What do you get when you cross a story about a boy being bullied with a story about young love, plus a third one about real life as a vampire?
          A: You get Swedish triple threat Let the Right One In (2008).
          Thorough, detailed, subtle, complex, this highly original and satisfying film is so terrific, it was re-made in America as Let Me In (2010), starring Chloe Grace Moretz. But it's nowhere near as good at all. First because it's a ripoff, and second because the original has the writer of the novel also writing the screenplay. Plus the casting is off. More on that in a moment.
          Upshot: Twelve year-old Oskar (Hedebrant) gets picked on by three kids at school. At the apartment complex where he lives with his mother, sometimes Oskar fantasizes about fighting back. One night when he thinks he's alone he finds the new neighbor kid from the next apartment watching him. This kid, Eli (Leandersson), also twelve, is full of all sorts of surprises, one them being related to gender. And this is why Moretz is a poor choice for the re-make. Lina Leandersson, on the other hand, is the perfect choice, to some extent due to at that time slightly more androgynous facial features crucial to the role.
          So whereas Let the Right One In has cinematic teeth, Let Me In merely bites.
          For most of the movie the viewer knows more than most of the characters. For example, that they're in a vampire story. A fact, by the way, explicitly revealed in all the marketing. It is, however, a vampire movie which shows no fangs, nor any bats, and not one castle. There is an unexplained supernatural element, yes, yet nothing to do with crucifixes or garlic.
          Eli has a guardian, Hakan (Ragnar), whose grim task it is to procure fresh human blood so that Eli can eat. These scenes comprise a big chunk of the film's considerable charm. Largely this is due to the innovative clinical approach taken, but also because of the difficulty Hakan finds in accomplishing his goal without getting accidentally interrupted.
          Contrasted against this graphic aspect, the pure clean innocence of the smitten youngsters who experience isolation for different reasons. As they grow closer, Eli counsels Oskar that when the bullies try to hit him, he must hit back harder than he ever dared. And if after that they still don't stop, then she'll step in and help.
          "I can," she assures.
          Quiet, simple, dark, and beautiful, Let the Right One In is a polished little gem of a movie in a class by itself.


LET THE RIGHT ONE IN
Starring Kare Hedebrant,
Lina Leandersson,
Per Ragnar,
Peter Carlberg,
Ika Nord
Directed by Tomas Alfredson
Written by John Ajvide Lindqvist
Based on th novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist
Runtime 114 minutes


Stewart Kirby writes for
THE INDEPENDENT

"JOKER" ACTOR ACES ROLE

          Joaquin Phoenix proves himself yet again the real acting deal.
          Sometimes one actor's portrayal of a character is sufficient reason to watch a film. This is one of those times.
          If only it hadn't been so hyperly hyped. Industry decision-makers wrongly think overhyping forces "a too big to fail" situation. They hyped Aquaman for a full year before it rightly tanked the opening weekend. What they need to do is underhype, so they don't create a "too big to succeed."
          That said, the story never really needed to have anything to do with a comic book villain. In fact, it would be better served as a film about a mentally ill person, and let that suffice without having anything to do with Batman at all. Reason being: Infantilization? We don't need no stinkin' infantilization.
          Ah, but then if there's no built-in market, it's only a work of art. Kind of like Martin Scorsese's The King of Comedy (1982), the main movie on the coattails of which Joker blithely rides.
          Upshot: Back in the early-'80s, Arthur Fleck (Phoenix), clown, gets picked on. He lives with his mom, he's skinny, he wants to be funny, but isn't. The most interesting thing about him is a mental condition where he laughs uncontrollably in stressful situations. After living out a scene from the Charles Bronson movie Death Wish (1974), in full post-work makeup, Fleck finds himself a Guy Fawkes-like figure, an inspiration to the majority poor tired of the deplorable privileged. Meanwhile, all Fleck really wants is to be funny and loved as a guest on his favorite TV show.
          While the lead portrayal absolutely excels, the story overall leaves much to be desired. For example, no talk show--especially one that's supposed to be "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson"--has ever, would ever, could ever do anything like what we're intended to accept in Joker. Also, at this time there weren't always cameras everywhere recording everything for there to be a video sent to fake Johnny, so no, we can't accept that the show would randomly display Fleck flailing at a club. That's a dumb and distracting mistake, and it's not the only one in the movie.
          Yet in spite of all that, Phoenix's unforgettable performance rises beyond the otherwise forgettable occasion. He's in every scene. And he's highly watchable because he lost 45 pounds and all of his sanity for the role. In terms of interior life onscreen, wow, what a lesson in the art of acting. Talk about being to one's insane role committed, J.P.'s so right up there at Heath Ledger's Joker-level, why, it's positively crazy.
          Could this Fleck guy ever possibly become Batman's arch-nemesis? Nope, no way. Nothing about this character allows for his ever masterminding a crime. Nor is there any of the "indiscriminate violence" which audiences may wrongly expect. Probably that was just a marketing ploy.
          But hey, it's still an interesting movie.


JOKER
Starring Joaquin Phoenix,
Robert De Niro,
Zazie Beetz,
Francis Conroy
Directed by Todd Phillips
Written by Todd Phillips, Scott Silver
Based on characters created by Bob Kane
Runtime 122 minutes

"NOSFERATU" INFECTIOUS

          F.W. Murnau's 1922 German Expressionist vision of Dracula casts an indelible portrait of the vampire.
          Featuring the enigmatic Max Schreck as Count Orlok, Nosferatu excels in spite of Murnau's inability to secure the rights to Bram Stoker's novel.
          Murnau's "Symphony of Horror," with a screenplay freely adapted by Henrik Galeen, concerns the Great Plague of Wisborg in 1838--or rather, its cause: Nosferatu, a pestilential Son of Belial with "a name like the sound of the death bird at midnight."
          Industrious young real estate agent Hutter believes he stands to make a healthy commission delivering in person papers drawn up for the Transylvanian Count's purchase of a "handsome, deserted house" in Wisborg. Hutter's boss, Knock--who acts like the character Renfield in the novel--pointedly neglects to mention that he's sending Hutter on an errand to a highly unusual client with long claws, rat-like teeth, and an appetite for human blood obtained directly from the source. Like a juice-box.
          Hutter has a wife, Ellen, whose neck the Count immediately covets. She, meanwhile, has a mystical connection through sleep and dream with Hutter and the Count far away in the Carpathians.
          In 1922, black and white was not exactly black and white. It was actually common practice to use a colored filter over the camera lens. A blue filter, for example, indicates outdoor nighttime shots. Particularly in the restored Kino edition, astoundingly clean and clear frames repeatedly please the eye.
          This is because it's Expressionist. Due to WWI, German filmmakers were cut off from the world in terms of the still-emerging art and the business associated with it. The striking visuals--stylized sets, unconventional camera angles, and exceptional use of shadows--plus extreme subject matter (such as vampires) speaking to the present and the eternal in the higher language of the figurative, still provide the stock for the cinematic soup of the world.
          Werner Herzog re-made the classic in 1979 with Klaus Kinski as Orlok, and in most ways it's the better version. That same year, Stephen King's made-for-TV 'Salem's Lot was filmed in Ferndale, California, with a non-vocal vampire looking like a dead-ringer for Orlok. (For that matter, so does Freddy Kruger in silhouette, who also operates in the dream realm.)
          Another goodie is Shadow of the Vampire (2000), which stars John Malkovich as Murnau and Willem Dafoe as, not the actor Max Schreck, but as an actual vampire that Murnau was somehow able to procure.
          The first vampire movie got it right. The Count is supposed to be repellent. That's in keeping with the novel, and that's what works best. Not a suave dude, but a repugnant figure. Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, Frank Langella, and Gary Oldman all bring their own fantastic interpretation, but it is Max Schreck who casts the longest vampire shadow.
          Seek Nosferatu wherever fine films are found--and preferably do so by train.