Random

My Cat, Mae West, and Sextette

Leave a Comment

Perhaps you’re choosing to honor your cat by naming her after Mae West. (And can there be a greater honor?) You can’t go with Mae. It’s too delicate.

And you can’t go with Mae West. Too hard to say when your cat is jumping on the counter.

But you have to name her for Mae West: your feline is feisty, unrepentant, the center of her universe. So you scroll IMDB for Mae’s movie character names and land on Marlo from Sextette (1978). It has a ring to it, doesn’t it? You haven’t seen the film and don’t have time for it, so you watch a clip. Mae being Mae. It tracks. You name your little palm-sized kitty, and every time she flashes those bold eyes at her prey, you know you chose well.

Then, shortly after her third birthday, you watch Sextette, and think, “What have you done?”

Seriously, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

This is the hot mess to end all hot messes. When Ringo Star gives one of the best performances in the film, you know something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Who sees Mae West act and thinks, “You know a good person to cast in her picture? Dom DeLuise”? It’s so hard to watch a madcap, hijinks story with Mae performing her signature slow delivery like she’s in a different film. Then there are sudden, unnecessary musical sequences–and not unnecessary in a fun way, but in a do-we-have-to-do-this? way. And is Tony Curtis playing a Russian? And what the hell is Alice Cooper doing in this mix? The whole film is jarring and weird and utterly wrong.

The strange thing is, the critiques are wrong too. Sure, you heard it was bad–that’s true. But you also heard some sexist junk about how could this older woman be attractive to this young man (Timothy Dalton)? (As if 70-and 80-year-old men will ever stop presenting themselves as attractive to young women.) The age difference is extreme, and thinking of Mae West’s character as a global sex object in her mid-eighties might be a stretch, but here’s the delightful surprise: she is the ONLY sexy person in the film. She’s so confident and brash that you can’t take her eyes off of her, same as ever. And she’s the only one who looks like she’d know what she was doing in that bed.

The single male character who has ANY sex appeal in the film is one of Marlo’s ex-husbands, played by George Hamilton. Hamilton is acting as a—wait for it—gangster. (Because when you think gangster, you think, Where the Boys Are.) But unlike the virginal character played by Dalton, the histrionic Russian played by Tony Curtis, or the flashy director played by Ringo Star, George Hamilton seems like he might pause his movements long enough to actually have sex, which puts him a long stretch ahead of his competitors, sex appeal wise.

Mae manages to share several very funny one liners along the way, especially in a scene full of athletes who look like the hunks in her former shows. Too bad there’s so much noise and chaos around her that you can barely absorb them.

Sure, you despised the film. You really did. And yet….There was something poetic in it all. That George Raft was in the cast. That she didn’t take herself seriously in the film. That the plot–like all of her plots–was really no plot at all. That she refused to change one iota to the last.

She just kept on being Mae. 70s film fashions? Why bother? She’s going to wear that full-length gown if she feels like it. She’s amusing and charming and delightful and so much fun. And just as sassy and unwilling to change as that cat peering at you from atop the shelf on your wall.

So maybe you made the right decision after all.

Share

In Praise of USA Up All Night

10 Comments

Today I felt a pang on hearing about Gilbert Gottfried’s death. Of course I found him annoying, but I also loved him. He–and Rhonda Shear–gave me USA Up All Night just when I needed it, a show that taught me valuable lessons that have stayed with me ever since. Here’s what I learned from that weekend stalwart, which, for the uninitiated, basically consisted of terrible, terrible movies playing from 11 pm /12 am till the wee hours on Fridays and Saturdays, with interludes of jokes, skits, and commentaries from the hosts.

  1. You Can Find Amusement in So Many Things. Camp was always appreciated in my family: my Uncle Ed’s running commentary on Slugs was a family reunion highlight. But in between those beloved family visits, I had Gottfried and Rhonda, poking fun of absurdly terrible B movies that no other channel would even play. Even Rhonda’s ridiculously perky enunciation of UP could make me laugh. To this day, I find enjoyment in so much pop culture that others don’t, and that’s partly thanks to USA Up All Night.
  2. Don’t Take Your Job Too Seriously. True, it’s hard to not laugh about your job when you’re commenting on Cheerleaders Beach Party. But Gottfried’s constant amusement (you could definitely see “This is my job?” in his expression) reminded me that every job doesn’t have to be a forever-career or vocation. Sometimes, you pay the bills doing something silly, and that’s OK. (And most of us do have absurd tasks even in the most serious of jobs.)
  3. Binging Movies Is Fun. Oh, you poor souls who didn’t learn this fact until Netflix. Gottfried and Rhonda (and the earlier host I never watched, Caroline Schlitt) taught us Gen Xers this back in the early 90s. Think of all the years of joy you missed!
  4. Embrace Your Awkward Self. Gottfried and Rhonda were never cool. They were goofy and absurd and nerdy and silly. But because they clearly didn’t care WHAT they were, they reminded me, an awkward teenage girl, that I didn’t have to be cool to have fun.
  5. Make Solitary Friday Nights an Occasion. In my twenties and early thirties, I moved states several times, each time alone. I was always either single or dating someone long distance, so Friday nights were rough on me. I hated the time it took to be moved from new friends’ weekday to their weekend rituals. To stave off the loneliness, I’d splurge on Fridays: wine, chocolate, good bread, and cheese. Maybe even takeout. I’d grab that remote and begin my movies, and all was right with the world. Sometimes, my preparations led to unhelpful comments by store clerks. (“Oooh-hoooh, honey, you’re having a romantic night tonight, huh?”) But in time, these Fridays became so peaceful and cathartic that I missed them when I had plans. (A bit of a foretaste of middle age, huh?) Would I have known to make an occasion of movie binging each Friday, without Gottfried and Rhonda’s example?
  6. You Never Know What Your Impact Will Be. I don’t think Gottfried could have anticipated that he’d be celebrated by a writer for USA Up All Night when he died thirty years later, do you? You just never know.

Share

They Live: Best Conspiracy Film?

Leave a Comment

Join my friends’ and my new podcast! Tomorrow we feature the gum-chewing, sunglass-wearing Roddy Piper as he breaks through all the conventions of conspiracy films we’ve discussed so far. Don’t miss it.

Share

One Liberal’s 2018 Distraction Guide

6 Comments


I assume those of you horrified by 2017 headlines have been fighting back with the help of political action sites. But sometimes what you need is to reset your equilibrium just so that you can get through the day, and if that’s what you’re looking for, here are my current (admittedly often silly) survival routines. (Note: I don’t expect my suggestions to be yours, but maybe your disagreement about mine will lead to suggestions of your own, which I’d love to hear.) Here are mine:

Enjoy a Little Snark
Tom and Lorenzo are this fashion police duo who are hilariously harsh. As someone who hasn’t been knowledgeable about fashion since middle school, and never any good at it, I’m not sure why I find fashion critiques so funny. My shoes alone would give them years of fodder. But I love them anyway, and their TV reviews, which originally brought me to their site (Mad Men and Downton Abbey tributes/slams in particular), are always on point.

When I can’t find the sarcasm I need, I head over to someecards or bad reviews on Metacritic. Go to the most negative reviews, and try not to laugh, such as those giving 0% ratings for Collateral Beauty. How about this from the usually affable Peter Travers?: “The unholy mess that director David Frankel and screenwriter Allan Loeb have unleashed for the holidays strands an all-star cast…on a sinking ship that churns the waters from absurd to zombified with frequent stops at pretentious.”

Ask Friends/Family for a Cute Photo of the Day—Over Email
On terrible news days, I now demand, “Cute photos needed!” of my sister with young toddlers, and presto! They arrive. Seriously, what parents will say no to sharing how adorable their children are? On Facebook or Instagram, you need to wade through other things you should avoid, so stick with Old School, my friends: Email. If you’re not a fan of children, you will find friends and family equally willing to share cute pet snapshots. Get to it.

Celebrate a Pal for No Reason
My friend Kerry once stopped by my door with a package and a smile, and announced, “It’s Leah Appreciation Day!” I burst out laughing, as she knew I would. I can remember few times I was so amused and touched, and I made a mental note at the time: This is a fabulous idea. I can’t say I do it enough, or with the aplomb Kerry—a master of silly joy—has mastered, but it’s surprisingly recuperative on a day you’ve watched too much news to buy a dumb card or film for a pal, and announce how much you appreciate him/her with over-the-top fanfare. Birthdays you may feel pressure to get it right. Random days? It’s just fun.

Break Out Some Silly TV
I thought the Psych movie was a remarkably timely gift, but now Amazon has put all the episodes on Prime! Score!

Other light favorites (given Netflix’s recent trends of show ditching, these are only true as of Jan 2018):

Netflix:

  • Arrested Development
  • Schitt’s Creek
  • The Good Place
  • Master of None
  • The IT Crowd
  • Sirens
  • The Office (British & American)

Hulu:

  • 30 Rock
  • Parks and Recreation
  • Party Down

Amazon Prime:

  • Leverage (Prime, Season 1)
  • Head Case (with Alexandra Wentworth; pay only)
  • Psych, of course! (Prime)

Invest in Some Cinematic Feminism
It’s easy to just cry at the #MeToo movement; instead, seek inspiration. Check out some awesome blogathons to discover feminist icons of film. Check out the The Anti-Damsel Blogathon from 2015, as just one example. Commit to discovering the work of female filmmakers, as did Girls Do Film two years ago for her New Year’s resolution.

And if you haven’t yet encountered some of the fantastic feminist TV series out there, do so now. Here are a few from Netflix (The Handmaid’s Tale is obviously next for me):

  • Jessica Jones (a superhero who survived rape and combats her rapist and those he’s harming)
  • Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (a woman in her 40s in 1920s Australia who is portrayed as both sexy and empowered)
  • Alias Grace (an intriguing fictionalization of a true-life 1840s murder, and the male treatment that may have contributed to it)
  • Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (a musical comedy that breaks boundaries in its portrayal of romance, feminism, and mental illness)

Tune out Everything But Your Pets
Guess who doesn’t know what’s going on out there? Guess who isn’t too blame? Too often I am watching TV or my computer while petting my cat, but when I give my high-spirited feline my full attention, there’s no low-grade stress accompanying my actions, and he’s more likely to cuddle and comfort. Also, he’s less angry.

View Silly YouTube Clips
My favorite clips are Key and Peele’s, and if you’ve experienced the brilliance of Get Out! or found yourself falling for Obama’s Anger Translator, Luther, during that White House Correspondents Dinner, you’ll know why I love this amazing comic duo. My personal favorite is the substitute teacher episode, but there are so many.

If you’re a fan of Issa Rae and her HBO hit, Insecure, you’ll love her earlier webisodes, The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl. “The Hallway” (fewer than 6 minutes) may be my favorite illustration of social awkwardness ever. If all else fails, you’ve got cat videos.

Dust off Those Stamps
Lately, I’ve been getting cards and books in the mail, with thoughtful notes from friends and family. Maybe we’re just so Internet and texting crazy that we forget how wonderful it is to see something that’s NOT a bill or junk in that mailbox. For a while, I’ll forget this need, and stop sending anything, and when I do again, I remember, I love mail. So does everyone else. I believe this need is one of the unspoken reasons for the rise of Amazon. Too lazy for cards? Grumpy Cat postcards. 5 minutes.

Reread Favorite Books and Discover New Comic Ones
Jane Austen is restorative for me; in fact, she knows I’m stressed before I do. Usually, she’s my canary in a coal mine; when I have a strong desire to read her, I know I need to consider some serious downtime or therapy or re-examination of my existence. Lately, she’s just a news recovery mechanism, as have been my favorite mysteries. Walter Mosley’s insightful detective, Easy Rawlins, is on my bedside table now, right next to some new (not depressing) memoirs I can’t wait to read: Lindy West’s, Adrian Shirk’s, and Amy Tan’s.

Put that Phone Down at Night
You know you shouldn’t read news before you go to sleep. Put that phone far enough from your hands that you can’t access it if you’re sleepless. You can read the headlines and delve into those depressing articles in the morning, when work will soon take you away. Not at night, when you’ll dwell and toss and turn. There are even studies on how that glare keeps you up. Move the phone.

Go to a Ridiculous Festival/Museum/Parade
There’s a museum down the street from me that is just full of things hoarders have offloaded. Last time I visited, there was a room full of dolls. It was vaguely horrifying, with old Troll dolls and Cabbage Patches. Yeah, I was freaked out, but it was also magic. See a poutine or bacon festival in your area? Sure, it’s about as healthy as mainlining Crisco, but it’s one day: Go.

Set a New Friend/Family Ritual—and Keep to It
A weekly karaoke night? A Stranger Things viewing party? A regular football watching ritual at the bar? It doesn’t matter. We need company right now. Make sure you have it.

Listen to Awesome Podcasts
If you’re a classic movie fan and haven’t been listening to Karina Longworth’s You Must Remember This (Podcast), what are you waiting for? Her series on the blacklist alone is enough to enthrall, and there’s so much more. The Atlantic includes a long list of awesome podcasts for those with any and all interests.

Watch Depression-Era Comedies
This is a movie blog after all, and I’ve found both eerily prescient warnings and relief from stress in classic favorites. I know some of you classic movie doubters think we’ve evolved so much that there’s no way those almost a 100 years ago were like you. But during the Depression, people were watching some decadently clothed folks doing silly things, just like you are now. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were wowing with their fancy footwork and quick barbs, and then easing their fans into a little romance. Mae West, pioneering screenwriter and star, was sashaying her way across the stage and then the screen, seducing men almost half her age with lines so funny we’re quoting them now. I highly recommend these two options as regular fare, and you can search through this site for much more, but if you’re smart, you’ll find the work of my peers at the Classic Movie Blog Association and discover new favorite film recs from those much more knowledgeable than I. It’s no accident that film comedies from the 30s are among the best ever made: They were needed.

Share
What strategies are helping you get through the news? Post here, or share with others. Let’s get by, as the Beatles have told us in my least favorite of their songs (but a wise one nonetheless), with a little help from one another.

Share

Happy Birthday to Classic Film’s Cupid, Charles Coburn

6 Comments


Today you need to embrace your love, ask out that crush, comfort your lovelorn friend, or play matchmaker yourself.

Why?

Because it’s Charles Coburn’s birthday. You know: the warm uncle/grandfather/parent type who plays the part of wing man, aiding couples in love. A Coburn character is the friend/relative you’ve always wanted, his cool common sense cutting through the neuroses, doubts, and faults that jeopardize a blooming love match or hinder an existing one. With such a friend, the couples always head to matrimony, or find new reasons to appreciate the spouses they have. So be a little kinder to those you love–or hope to love–today. In Coburn’s honor.

Share

Interview on CMBA Site

2 Comments

One of my favorite bloggers interviewed me for the Classic Movie Blog Association‘s profile. Check it out here. Such an honor. I feel like this:


For fantastic reading, view the author’s site, Silver Screenings. Her support, and that of other awesome veteran bloggers (such as Caftan Woman), has kept me going when it’s hard to continue with the blog.

While you’re at CMBA site, don’t neglect to check out the sites of my other wonderful peers at CMBA, whose recent posts are featured in the right-hand column.

Share

Remaking Hitchcock

4 Comments

This week I’ve been lucky enough to convince author Michael Gutierrez into guest posting. Check out his wonderful book, The Trench Angel (which deserves cinematic treatment of its own).

Back in the early 90s, during a time when there were a spate of remakes of classic films, my grandfather posited: “Why don’t they just redo shitty movies?”

He was right, in a sense. Remaking the greats because you think they’ll appeal to a modern audience is usually a lost cause. His Girl Friday will always be better than Switching Channels, even if you add modern stars like Burt Reynolds (the 80s loved a good mustache). But “shitty movies” are often shitty for several fundamental, inalterable reasons, be it bad acting, poor production values, or, most likely, a terrible story idea. These are films that can’t be saved. Take Showgirls: you can blame star Elizabeth Berkley’s humorless performance or director Paul Verhoeven’s lack of visual dexterity, but the film would probably still blow even if you gave the camera to Scorsese and put Meryl Streep in pasties.

Yet, there’s a middle ground: remake mediocre films, movies that just missed being great for one or two specific, easily discernible reasons. It’s been done before, most recently with Ocean’s Eleven. The original Rat pack vehicle was poorly paced and weighed down by a lazy script, bad jokes, and half-in-the-bag performances. Enter George Clooney and Steven Soderbergh and you’ve got a remake that trumps the original.

Case in point is Alfred Hitchcock, a man who made plenty of just-misses. For every Rear Window or North by Northwest, you’ve got a handful of Suspicions. Hitchcock, himself, had no issue with remakes, re-doing The Man Who Knew Too Much twenty years after his original version. While many of his lesser films should be left alone (I’m looking at you Stage Fright), a few of his other movies were nearly great, but suffered under the weight of one or two specific flaws.

Here are three that Hollywood should re-do and I’ll even give them a hand by telling them how to do it.

Foreign Correspondent (1940)
The Story: American reporter Huntley Haverstock (Joel McCrea) is sent to Europe to dig up a story on the continent’s impeding war. While there, he finds himself caught up in a sinister international conspiracy, falls in love with the chief villain’s daughter (Laraine Day), while palling around in the Netherlands with fellow reporter Scott ffolliett (George Sanders).

The Good: There’s a great cat and mouse chase through a field of Dutch windmills and some fantastic Sanders scenes where he binge-eats the scenery.

The Problem: The romance between McCrea and Day has all the sexual charisma of an arranged marriage. In addition, Sanders steals the film. Even Hitchcock seems to realize he cast the wrong star, and pretty much turns over the last third of the film to the charming Englishman. Finally, the end transforms into a piece of pro-war propaganda, trying to convince America to join the fight against the Nazis. It made sense at the time, but now it dates the film.

The Solution: Cast Ryan Gosling and Marion Cotillard. Besides being capable performers, they’re both so pretty to look at. Plus, you could actually shoot the film in Amsterdam. Why aren’t there more films in Amsterdam?

The Lady Vanishes (1938)
The Story: Young European Iris Henderson (Margaret Lockwood) is travelling home via railway to get married. On the trip she befriends Miss Froy (Dame May Whitty), who suddenly disappears in transit, though the train has made no stops. Henderson and fellow passenger Gilbert Redman (Michael Redgrave) investigate, only to find themselves caught up in a sinister international conspiracy.

The Good: It’s a great set-up with some tense scenes, red herrings, and a bouncy tone. Plus, you’re on a train and trains are awesome.

The Problem: Lockwood doesn’t come across as someone willing to challenge a waiter, let alone a cabal of killers. It should have been Myrna Loy or Katharine Hepburn. Redgrave’s fine, but Cary Grant would have been better. There are also some really hokey special effects where the train looks like a child’s model set and Hitchcock spends too much time setting up the story and gives away the villain too quickly.

The Solution: I know they re-did this film with Jodie Foster as Flightplan, and I’ve heard it isn’t bad, but I can’t watch movies set on airplanes without a heavy, accompanying dose of Xanax, so let’s keep it on the train because trains are, as you know, awesome and put in Reese Witherspoon and Ethan Hawke. Give the characters some age and gravitas. Or if they won’t do it, Cotillard and Gosling will do.

The 39 Steps (1935)
The Story: Robert Hannay (Robert Donat) finds himself caught up in a sinister international conspiracy. There’s a lot of running through fake Scottish moors, an evil dude with half a finger missing, and Madeleine Carroll going full Stockholm Syndrome on Donat after he kidnaps her.

The Good: It sounds bad, but it isn’t. Seriously. It’s just not great. Even if the moor scenes were filmed on a sound stage, the running is fun and the scene at the end in the Palladium when Mr. Memory reveals the secrets of the 39 Steps organization is brilliant.

The Problem: How many memorable movies have you seen with Donat or Carroll? There’s a reason. Hitchcock once famously referred to actors as “cattle” and he must have gotten these two off the slaughterhouse floor. At times, you’re rooting for 39 Steps to kill Donat, while Carroll’s quick turn from kidnap victim to doting lover is super uncomfortable.

The Solution: Keep the missing finger, film on real Scottish moors, and bring in Charlize Theron and Tom Hardy. A Mad Max reunion. Unlike Donat, Hardy looks like he could actually land a punch and Theron seems like she’d take a little more convincing to fall in love with her kidnapper than a charming smile. Or, hell, just cast Gosling and Cotillard. That should work.

by Michael Gutierrez

Share

Surreal Reproduction: When Bette Met Mae (2014)

Leave a Comment

WhenBetteMetMaeOn November 13, 1973 Wes Wheadon was the bartender for a party that joined  superstars Mae West (Victoria Mills) and Bette Davis (Karen Teliha) for the first time. He captured their encounter on audio tape, and then reenacted the event with lip-syncing actors, producing it more than 40 years later.

On the one hand, the film is fascinating–capturing the mutual admiration between these two strong female icons, particularly Davis’s for her hilarious predecessor. On the other, the poor quality of the audio gives me a skeezy feeling, like this recorder was hidden in a drawer and the actresses unaware, or the whole thing was faked or improperly edited for effect (not hard with such easily imitated voices). I know that the time period and recorder quality are likely responsible for the seeming sketchiness, but since both women are long dead and the event likely forgotten, it’s hard not to question even as you’re enjoying the interplay between these heroines of the screen.

I was fascinated by Davis’s descriptions of her battles for control and for actors’ rights, as with her recounting of Ronald Reagan’s tenure as SAG president. She suggests he sold out his fellow actors for the sake of his own future political gain.

Such blunt talk from Davis (who is drinking vodka and OJ throughout) is typical of the film. Her lines throughout are funny, and often outrageous:

“My enthusiasm is exhausting.”

“I tried to turn for years (into a lesbian). I thought it’d be so simple.”

(on the idea of marrying another man) “You kidding? End up supporting them?”

And some of West’s lines are equally fabulous, as in response to Davis’s question of whether she’d marry now (at 80):

“Well, I’d wanna see him first.”

But what I like best are West’s descriptions of the making of I’m No Angel, and her reflection that she’d always wanted to be a lion tamer (because of course she did). And her thoughts about her writing, as when she admits it could take her a day to come up with a great line. The studios besides Paramount, she claims, “were kicking against me too” during the Production Code years. She explains one of her methods to preserve her material. Originally, she says, the films would be shot and screened, and then the censors would shout out what they wanted eliminated. Instead, she had censors read and cut lines from her screenplays before they were filmed. She would add material before sharing the script that she knew they’d eliminate (“I start putting in stuff that I myself wouldn’t do”), hopefully preserving more of her actual lines in the process.

And, of course, one of the pleasures of the movie is when both women express their reactions to the male impersonators who’ve loved them so much over the years….

I can’t exactly recommend the film, as Wheadon’s narration is cheesy, and much of the interview is hard to hear, making its accuracy difficult to trust. But it IS a fun, remarkable conversation (true as experienced/not), and if you have Amazon Prime, it’s free.

This post is part of my monthly series on West.

Share

Kate Beckinsale: A Lousy Ava Gardner

6 Comments

KateBeckinsale-Ava-TheAviator
Thanks to the stunning turns of Leonard DiCaprio, Alec Baldwin, Cate Blanchett, and Alan Alda, The Aviator (2004) was nominated for a SAG award, Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture. Unfortunately, this meant Razzie-nominated Kate Beckinsale was included in the honor for portraying Ava Gardner in the biopic. Unfortunately because I’ve seen better acting from beauty contestants in Toddlers and Tiaras. Watch the film on Netflix this month, and see if you can disagree.

Embarrassing Poses Do Not Equal Sensuality
Let’s try to forget that this lean actress only resembles the curvaceous screen siren in terms of hair coloring. But any frustration at the lack of resemblance is soon lost in concern over Beckinsale’s acting. Have you ever seen a little girl posing as a sexy movie star for the camera? Yeah? Does it look kind of like this?

KateBeckinsale-terribleAva
Perhaps Beckinsale prepared for her performance by watching Showgirls’ Elizabeth Berkley, who also mistook exaggerated gestures for seduction. Look, I understand that it’s intimidating to play one of the sexiest women of all time. How do you live up to a woman with that form?

AvaGardnerbathingBarefootContessa
And that face?

AvaGardnerbeauty
And how do you convey her magnetism, especially when your biggest role is in Underworld and your only good performances are as a no-nonsense matchmaker in Cold Comfort Farm and a scheming wannabe in The Last Days of Disco?

Beckinsale’s challenge was a big one, I admit. But her solution was so embarrassing. Could anyone find the self-conscious poses the actress adopts in The Aviator alluring? Past the age of 11, I mean, when tweens believe their primping a match for that of Britney Spears or Beyoncé or Margot Robbie or the current siren of the month?

Whatever Beckinsale was thinking, the result for viewers is painful; there’s such a jarring contrast between Leonardo DiCaprio’s honest, Oscar-worthy portrayal and her amateurism. Gardner might not have been a great actress, but she was riveting onscreen, with the kind of sensuality that simply can’t be faked. Was it really so hard for Martin Scorsese to find a sexually exciting, competent actress—in Hollywood?

Marilyn Monroe’s Purr + WHAT?
No one who has actually listened to Ava Gardner’s deep tones could mistake them for Marilyn Monroe’s kittenish simpering. But Beckinsale does–for a few minutes. Then she suddenly drops this girly inflection–for no apparent reason–and takes on a Southern drawl for a word or two. She then moves on to a highly affected faux-voice that has only been heard in bad screen tests. I’m not sure if Beckinsale’s ability to drop her British accent only takes her so far, or if she actually thinks this is how people talked in the old days. Most alarmingly, she apparently did listen to Gardner’s real voice, so perhaps her hearing should have been checked.

Does Gardner’s voice occasionally seem affected onscreen? Oh yes. Gardner herself admitted she could come across as unconvincing (though never close to as wretched as her 21st century imitator). But this is supposed to be Beckinsale playing Gardner in her real life. The fun-loving, broad, frank, boozing, matador-seducing Gardner was reckless in love, and careless with her career. But she was–if nothing else–authentic and funny and bawdy, not stilted and fake.

You might ask why I still care 12 years after the film’s premiere. Maybe because it’s difficult to witness such a bad misstep in an otherwise impressive film. Maybe because I’ve always admired Ava Gardner for her spirit, for a brand of feminism and bold living that wasn’t easy to sustain in the sexist age in which she lived. Maybe because in her rawest roles, as in The Night of the Iguana, there’s something breathtakingly real and honest about Gardner onscreen that seems to echo the kind of life she lived. Maybe because Scorsese himself, an appreciator of the classics, should have known better than to portray one of its legends so poorly. But I think my biggest irritation is this: Beckinsale’s tepid, false performance may mean that moviegoers first exposed to Gardner in this movie had no desire to look further. And that is something worth griping about.

Share

5 Ways for the Oscars Not to Suck

9 Comments

While I have my favorites among this year’s nominees, my most fervent wish is for the ceremony itself. I don’t expect anything so lavish as entertainment. I just really, really hope that for once the ceremony doesn’t vie with a tractor pull for most boring event of the year. I can’t have a repeat of 2011, when my main source of joy (and a critic’s too) was the Kraft mac & cheese commercial.

So here, in no particular order, are my wishes:

  1. Chris Rock Has a Blast with Trump Jokes. There’s some precedent here. When he last hosted, Rock roasted President George W. Bush by comparing nonexistent WMDs to a toxic tank tops war between the Gap and Banana Republic. This outspoken comic has it in him to alleviate the Oscars’  tedium. Do it, Rock. I beg of you. (His advance jabs at the whiteness of the show give me hope.)
  2.  Nominated Songs’ Performances Are Cut. We don’t watch the whole movies, right? And this ain’t the Grammys, people. Medleys are sufficient. For every bright spot, like last year’s “Glory,” we have years of suffering through songs so lacking in rhythm they may as well be coming from a dying jack-in-the-box.
  3. The In Memoriam Isn’t Insulting. Should a tribute be seen as an opportunity to snub those you consider unworthy? Are we watching Mean Girls? If not, refrain from the snobbery, Academy. Go for more faces. They’re only on the screen a second anyway. Oh, and give those classic stars more love!
  4. Everyone Lays Off the Wrinkles and the Botox. Your demographic ain’t the millennials, Academy. We middle aged and elderly folks love the stars who’ve gotten past their pimples. The classic fans among us even want to see those few luminaries left to us. Kirk Douglas is still alive. So is Kim Novak. Who cares if your ageism has turned them plastic, if they don’t stun like they did in 1978? Neither do the rest of us.
  5. The Academy Learns to Trim. I realize this is the vainest among my hopes, as Hollywood, despite those awards to be presented Sunday, has lost the art of the edit. But let’s review why some cutting makes sense, Academy:
    1. Very few actors can riff. Do you still not get this after all your hosting blunders? They can’t. Ask poor Neil Patrick Harris. Ask Anne Hathaway. Let’s give actors fewer opportunities to do so.
    2. Song-and-dance numbers aren’t your expertise. Leave those to the Tony Awards, I beg of you.
    3. We need our sleep. Since you are still reaching parents with young kids, and the retired. Since you are broadcasting to those of us stressed about Monday morning meetings. A little thoughtfulness about our energy levels would be appreciated.
    4. We don’t need to wooed into loving film. Montages, clips, and performances about appreciating movies aren’t for us, remember? We’re the fools still watching!! In spite of your bloating of movie times. In spite of the lack of diversity of race or gender in front of and behind the camera. We’re even watching this wretched monstrosity of a show, out of masochism and nostalgia and an entirely unjustified hope you will change. We still love you, Hollywood. That’s how damn much we love film. So nix the reminders, and let the show go on.
Share