Double Vision: Passion, Fashion, and The September Issue
“September is the January in fashion.” Candy Pratts Price, Executive Fashion Director, Vogue Magazine.
R. J. Cutler’s 2009 documentary, The September Issue, a look at the arduous process of compiling Vogue magazine’s biggest edition of the year, was initially promoted as a profile of its Editor In Chief, Anna Wintour (left), but ended up shedding more light on Creative Director, Grace Coddington, resulting in her becoming the film’s most fascinating star.
Coddington’s free-spirited, yet focused passion versus Wintour’s structured, and equally focused, determination made for a compelling dichotomy. Even their hairstyles and overall fashion sense speak volumes: Wintour dons her signature bob, classic and conservative, a strand rarely out of place, while Coddington (below) rocks thick, flowing, rock-star-style red hair. Ironically, Wintour, often stern, tends to exude personality through attire that embraces prints and color, while Coddington, like the cool bohemian aunt in your family, is frequently draped in black, almost choosing to pull focus from what’s on her person to what’s on her pages.
Coddington fights to get her work into the magazine, but it repeatedly gets put to the side, as Wintour edits, then ultimately decides what fashion spreads will make it into the issue. As Coddington senses her spreads are on the chopping block, she can’t hide the defeat on her face, as she sits at her desk. She updates the documentary crew about her spreads’ seemingly limited lifespan: “They took two more out and there’s question marks on two more, so it’s been whittled down… and I’m furious,” she calmly discloses. After a somber pause, she reveals with a brief nervous chuckle: “And it’s very hard to go on to the next thing.”
Later, a trip to Paris reignites the inner fire that looked to be extinguished. In a film full of flash and fashion, and pretty pictures, it’s this section that shows the inner beauty, particularly as Coddington overlooks the gardens at Versailles, an inspiring perspective emerges: “You have to go charging ahead, you can’t stay behind.”
And isn’t that what fashion, and life, is all about. The September Issue is a glimpse into the glamour, but more so it’s in-depth insight into the relentless passion it takes to create, and the frustration that can happen along the (run)way.
The September Issue cinematographer: Robert Richman.
Life After Death: The Cult Classic That is Clue
It boggles the mind to think that the 1985 comedic murder mystery, Clue flatlined upon its initial theatrical release. Opening on December 13, 1985, the film, co-conceived by John Landis, and based on the classic Parker Brothers’ board game, was up against The Jewel of the Nile, the sequel to the successful adventure-comedy, Romancing the Stone, with Rocky IV and Landis’ Spies Like Us also continuing to do well commercially. One thing I don’t understand (one thing?): Why Clue didn’t get an October or Halloween-season release-date, considering its murder-mystery genre.
However, with the help of cable television, and the birth of the VHS rental market, Clue was brought back to life by viewers, in their living rooms, with the remote control. From John Morris’ Hitchcockian, Bernard Herrmann-inspired orchestral score during its opening credits, to the solid cast of “colorful” characters that the viewer meets one by one as each arrives at a spooky manor on a dark and stormy night, Clue is “cozy murder” at its best.
The screenplay’s mid-1950’s timeframe allowed the director and screenwriter, Jonathan Lynn, to weave in satirical jabs at McCarthyism, conservative moral codes, even good ol’ fashioned capitalism. But mostly, Clue works because of the sharp lines of dialogue, quickly delivered between characters. Tim Curry’s Wadsworth, the Butler, not only tidies up the kitchen and the dining room, but takes it upon himself (as a workingman’s Hercule Poirot) to neatly wrap up the mystery via a zany, fast-paced, cartoon-caliber reenactment of the evening’s events, where the viewer discovers the whodunit and two other who(could’ve)dunits.
Repeated airings and rentals in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and purchases, of Clue have earned the film a large fan base, to the point where it’s easily reached cult-classic status. In particular, Madeline Kahn’s improvised “flames” monologue is a fan favorite, and probably the movie’s most recited section.
Long story short (too late): Clue certainly proves that just because something doesn’t break box-office records doesn’t mean it’s destined for the bargain bin and into obscurity; with a strong ensemble cast, a witty script full of memorable lines, and the support of a deeply loyal following, a film such as Clue can take on a life (after death) of its own.
Gotta Have Fate
The Netflix documentary, Wham! is as much about destiny, as it is about one of the biggest pop acts of the 1980s and its global impact over a mere five years. The story of how Georgios “George Michael” Panayiotou and Andrew Ridgeley became the legendary pop group is told mostly through archival footage and audio soundbites.
Meeting at school as pre-teens, Andrew and Yog, Andrew’s nickname for Georgios, became friends with a mutual interest in music. By their late-teens, the pair began writing catchy tunes laced with social commentary, plus ones that embraced the frivolity of youth culture (“Club Tropicana”), as well as others that appeared on their 1983 debut album, Fantastic. “Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do),” “Bad Boys” and “Young Guns (Go For It),” positioned Yog, professionally known as George Michael, as the rebellious protagonist, hell- (or heck-) bent on avoiding the 9 to 5 and “death by matrimony,” and set on saving Andrew Ridgeley’s character from a “straight-laced” life (one without George). Besides the (not-so) underlying homoerotic subtext, gay subculture iconography played heavily: leather jackets; tight jeans; aviator glasses—a look that solo George would don again for the Faith era. The musical and visual appeal of Wham! was far-reaching.
Co-crafting the sax-drenched power ballad, “Careless Whisper,” continuing into the Make It Big album (“Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”; “Everything She Wants”; “Freedom”) and their final, Music from the Edge of Heaven (“Last Christmas”; “I’m Your Man”; “Where Did Your Heart Go?”), both traveled down the same creative pop-music path, only for them to hit the proverbial fork in the road, with personal goals and professional roles shifting as they achieved international success. Watching the documentary through the lens of loss, and letting go in life, adds further emotional resonance to what is essentially a story of unconditional love between friends, with one who must selflessly accept what is, so the other can become who he was destined to be.
Go-go watch it if you haven’t.
Five for Pride
With Pride Month in June, there’s no better time to revisit, or maybe discover, some of the best arts and entertainment under the rainbow. From dance-club bangers and groundbreaking series to heartwarming rom-coms and poignant documentaries, and more, there’s no shortage of material that speaks, and sings, to the LGBTQ+ experience. Here are five for Pride:
Ultra Anthem
It’s safe to say that since 1997, Ultra Naté’s now-classic house track, “Free” has been a Pride-parade staple. The heartfelt message is right there in the chorus (“Cause you’re free/to do what you want to do/You’ve got to live your life/Do what you want to do”). And to drive home that empowering message, the tail end of the bridge (“Don’t be scared, your dream’s right there/You want it [you want it], reach for it!”) provides that soulful burst of encouragement to anyone about to embark on a new chapter. There are a number of variations of “Free,” but the “Mood II Swing Radio Mix” is essential for any Pride playlist.
(Chosen) Family Ties
And speaking of embarking on new chapters, in more ways than one, the 1993 limited TV series, “Armistead Maupin’s Tales of City,” set in San Francisco in 1976, follows sheltered Ohio-native Mary Ann Singleton (Laura Linney’s breakout role) as she decides to go from visiting vacationer to full-time resident. She moves into a utopian-inspired apartment complex on 28 Barbary Lane, run by an eccentric landlady, Anna “Dear, I have no objection to anything” Madrigal (Olympia Dukakis).
Mary Ann befriends her fellow tenants, whose lives are also explored, including Michael “Mouse” Tolliver, a gay hopeless romantic. She also begins a new job, dabbles in dating a couple of questionable men (Mary Ann’s namesake says it all: single-ton), and broadens her horizons in the city by the bay. Mary Ann undergoes a kind of “coming-out process” of her own, moving from straight-laced Ohioan to straight ally San Franciscan.
As this six-episode series progresses, the characters’ lives become intertwined, with the series taking on a mysterious, even at times a mystical, tone, with hints of Hitchcock’s Vertigo referenced throughout. Most importantly, the series serves as a love letter to the free-spirited (gay) oasis known as 1970’s San Francisco. Maupin penned several Tales of the City novels, with three additional limited TV series airing over the decades. The original, in particular, remains a clever, comforting celebration of “chosen family” at its finest.
Trick is Full of Treats
The 1999 rom-com, Trick is a smart story that turns what was supposed to be a casual hookup between a shy composer, Gabriel (Christian Campbell, left) and a go-go boy, Mark (J.P. Pitoc, right) into something heartwarming and hilarious. (The scene featuring a monologue by Miss Coco Peru [Clinton Leupp] is one of the many memorable moments.) The film and its soundtrack are perfect companions for Pride: Gabriel pours his heart into writing the catchy “Enter You,” as performed by his friend, Katherine (the comedic revelation that is Tori Spelling); ‘70s soft-pop classics (Gary Wright’s “Dream Weaver”; Helen Reddy’s “I Am Woman”) get reimagined as ‘90s dance mixes
(Erin Hamilton—Carol Burnett’s daughter—sings the former; Jessica Williams the latter); the instrumental “Trick of Fate/Enter You” plays over a pivotal moment between Gabriel and Mark, sure to induce a googly-eyed sigh. Trick is a testament to kismet, and all the promise and possibility that can unfold when you take your time in life and love.
Pop-Art Portrait
Soup cans in the ‘60s; Studio 54 in the ‘70s, likely two of the many things that come to mind when people think of the legendary artist, Andy Warhol. But in the Netflix documentary series, “The Andy Warhol Diaries,” based on Warhol’s 1989 non-fiction work of the same name, as edited by Pat Hackett, one learns more about the artist’s life behind the canvas and the camera shutter, particularly his personal relationships with interior designer, Jed Johnson, and Hollywood studio executive, Jon Gould, as well as Warhol’s complicated collaboration with fellow influential artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat.
What makes the series so profound is hearing Warhol narrate some of his diary entries, achieved by the use of an AI voiceover program. In his deadpan delivery, Warhol not only shares the mundane moments, but goes deeper to express various insecurities, and later his worries about the AIDS crises in the early ‘80s. It’s those vulnerable revelations that allow the series to become an insightful, poignant portrait.
Ford. Firth. Fab.
Fashion designer, Tom Ford made his directorial debut with 2009’s “A Single Man,” which is based on the 1964 novel by Christopher Isherwood. Colin Firth plays a 1960s professor named George Falconer, who is devastated by his partner, Jim’s sudden death (the “phone-call scene” was reason enough for Firth’s Academy Award nomination). Heartbroken, George tries to “just get through the goddamn day,” and it’s through flashbacks that the viewer sees how George and Jim met, as well as a few of the ordinary, yet not any less significant, moments from their life together.
In one such flashback, we see both in domestic bliss, lounging together on opposite sides of a couch, reading, and listening to a record, their two dogs sleeping next to them. A proponent of living, and finding the beauty, in the moment (the overarching message of the film), Jim unexpectedly expresses how content and complete his life is with George: “What could be better than being tucked up here with you.” Practically every moment in the film is beautifully shot. A Single Man is chic; poetic; the epitome of style meets substance.
In summary, whether you’re a member or an ally of the community, hopefully you’ll be able to incorporate one or some or perhaps all five picks to celebrate during the month, and beyond. Happy Pride!
Platinum Portrayal: Ana de Armas’ Golden Performance in Blonde
Disclaimer: Please note that this article about the film, Blonde, features content related to mental and emotional trauma, and other similar themes, that may be triggering for some. Reader discretion is advised.
While many reviews of Andrew Dominik’s Blonde, the 2022 film based on Joyce Carol Oates’ historical fiction novel of the same name, were rather scathing, it’s Ana de Armas’ portrayals of Norma Jeane Mortenson and Marilyn Monroe that serve as the main reason to muster up the courage to try and commit to watching the often disturbing and disjointed three-hour film.
Oddly enough, through no fault of her own, it’s de Armas’ performance that’s representative of how disjointed the film really is: simply put, she’s far better than the material that surrounds her. Here are at least five scenes from Blonde where de Armas goes from good to great, displaying a wholehearted commitment to portraying a fictional incarnation of a famous figure, as well as the daunting, almost insurmountable, challenge of playing the most famous female icon in Hollywood history.
5. Calling the Shots: After talking to her agent by phone about the glaring salary inequity between her and a much-higher-paid Jane Russell for 1953’s Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Norma Jeane calmly questions: “And I’m playing the blonde, in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes? That’s an insult.” She remains polite, even announcing: “I’m gonna hang up now,” but a second later her agent calls her Marilyn, to which Norma Jeane angrily replies: “F*** Marilyn, she’s not here!” and slams down the receiver. de Armas gives Norma Jeane a look of stunned disbelief at what has transpired, but soon proudly smiles at her newfound confidence.
4. Pink Diamonds: de Armas is Monroe’s Lorelei Lee doppelgänger in Blonde’s recreation of the classic “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend” musical number from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. With only two days to learn the choreography, de Armas captured Monroe’s hand gestures, shoulder shrugs and slinky movements on the narrow staircase. de Armas did 21 takes, with Dominik using the 21st in the final film.
3. Audition Ambition: In the scene where a nervous Norma Jeane auditions for the role of Nell for 1952’s Don’t Bother to Knock, it’s her opportunity to show the (uninterested) male powers that be how connected she is to the character, to the material and to what it represents. Norma Jeane delivers a solid audition (complete with de Armas dropping a single tear down her left cheek), but still asks to do the reading again. de Armas conveys Norma Jeane’s longing for connection, to be heard, not just seen.
2. A Method to the Sadness: At an acting workshop, an in-depth, Method-style exercise eventually sends Norma Jeane down to the floor in hysterics. As a disheveled Norma Jeane tries to regain her composure, as if she’s been jolted awake from a nightmare, the teacher asks: “What were you thinking of?” To which she replies: “I wasn’t thinking.” She quickly tries to gather her thoughts: “Um, maybe… I was remembering?” This is one of de Armas’ strongest scenes, for its display of raw emotion offset soon thereafter by a subtle, shy smile and a loud sniffle during Norma Jeane’s responses, showing just how committed Norma Jeane was to exploring her acting craft, even after an intense reaction.
1. Mother and Child Reunion: Early in the film, a seven-year-old Norma Jeane is living in Los Angeles with her mentally and emotionally unstable mother, Gladys. After surviving in a volatile, violent environment, Norma Jeane is placed in an orphanage, while her mother is eventually institutionalized. One of de Armas’ most gut-wrenching scenes occurs when Norma Jeane sees her mother for the first time in well over 10 years. de Armas’ reaction is visceral, capturing the sadness of separation, followed by her scanning her mother’s face in confusion. Despite their deeply dysfunctional history, it’s simply a child wanting her mother.
In an interview with the SAG-AFTRA Foundation, de Armas’ theorized as to the nature of this complicated relationship: “She really wants to fix Mother. The absent father figure is a problem, but I feel like Mother is the real problem, and what she feels like she has to fix… She thought, if I can find my dad and he comes back, then my mom is gonna be okay, but because I can’t find him, if I’m very, very famous, he can find me. But really it was the mother, you can see that she is trying to fix that, to build that relationship, and it’s obviously… no reaction there, there’s nothing, there’s no feedback, they don’t recognize each other.”
Honorable Mentions: de Armas has other remarkable moments in the film. For instance: The recreation of “I Wanna Be Loved By You” from 1959’s Some Like It Hot. Norma Jeane is on set in Monroe mode, playfully and seductively lip-syncing to the track, but quickly de Armas’ face switches to reveal a devastatingly deflated Norma Jeane, who stops mid-scene, and puts her head in her hands, only to then erupt ferociously in anger over the alleged demeaning on-set gossip about her. In seconds, de Armas’ range runs the spectrum from physical embodiment to mentally distracted to emotionally enraged.
Also, Norma Jeane’s meeting with “The Playwright,” is a rare occasion that we see her calm and self-assured. She’s clearly smitten with the intellectual across the table, and she beams at the professional and personal possibilities. Their flirtatious exchange of the greeting, “Hey, you” is one of the film’s sweet, all-too-brief moments.
de Armas received several acting-award nominations in early 2023, including an Academy Award nomination for Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role. And while she didn’t win any golden statues, her performance is the gleam amid all the gloom.
“Secretive; Whispery; Indecent”: Intentional Disconnect in 1961’s The Innocents
More gothic folklore than gruesome gore, Jack Clayton’s beautifully haunting (and hauntingly beautiful) 1961 film, The Innocents is high-art psychological horror. Co-written by William Archibald and Truman Capote, the film is based on the 1898 Henry James story, The Turn of the Screw.
Deborah Kerr stars as Miss Giddens, a governess hired to care for two children, Flora (Pamela Franklin) and Miles (Martin Stephens), at an English manor. An unsettling tone is set right from the beginning: Behind the initial screen blackness, pre-opening credits, the sound of a young girl (Flora) singing “O Willow Waly” creates a disturbing blurred line between wholesome lullaby and its mournful lament for a lost lover. The disconnect continues through the opening credits, now with birds chirping in the darkness; those familiar tweets most often heard at daybreak, instead of in the dead of night. And finally, a profile of a distressed Miss Giddens, clutching her hands together, tilting her head back with her eyes closed, her forehead glistening with perspiration; the sight of sweat common in the blazing sunlight, not in the glowing moonlight.
Day or Fright
Throughout the crisp, black-and-white film there are a number of bone-chilling scenes. The manor and its grounds become settings for strange goings-on, ones not solely reserved for the nighttime, when fatigue, shadows and imagination can get the best of someone, but in broad daylight as well, often with others nearby. But what is real, and who is credible? In the film’s first line, a sense of doubt is immediately placed upon the viewer toward Miss Giddens, when the children’s uncle asks her during the interview for the governess position: “Do you have an imagination?” An almost embarrassed Giddens replies with a yes. As the film progresses: To believe or not to believe her, that becomes the subsequent question in the viewer’s mind.
Depth of Fear
The crisp black and white mentioned earlier is the work of the cinematographer, Freddie Francis, who used a deep-focus technique, which allows the foreground, middle ground and background to be equally sharp. One of the best examples is when Flora becomes oddly excited about nature’s brutality. She declares: “Oh look, it’s a lovely spider, and it’s eating a butterfly!” (Spiders aren’t usually described as lovely, creating another example of intentional disconnect.) The large depth of field simultaneously creates distance and claustrophobia for the viewer (a visual disconnect), while also establishing Flora as the spider to Miss Giddens as the butterfly.
Brother and Sinister
In addition to this macabre outlook on nature, mature subtexts run throughout, particularly ones dealing with the misguided affection between Miles and Miss Giddens. After learning more about two of the manor’s previous residents, Giddens begins to suspect the prim, proper, poetic Miles, and the once-sweet now emotionally hysterical, Flora are not who they appear to be, that something evil has entered the innocent (foreshadowed when Giddens admires a stone cherub in the garden, only for a cockroach to crawl out of its mouth).
Giddens conveys to Mrs. Grose, the housekeeper enveloped by extreme denial, that both children “are playing, or being made to play, some monstrous game. I can’t pretend to understand what its purpose is; I only know that it is happening: something secretive, and whispery, and indecent.” (Undoubtedly, Capote-penned prose.)
The relationship between Miles and Flora becomes suspect as well. Flora seems to have a psychic connection to Miles, knowing when Miles will return home from his school, permanently dismissed for bad behavior, even before Miss Giddens or Mrs. Grose. Giddens becomes watchful of the two siblings as they hold hands, walking closely together toward the town church. A concerned Giddens says to Mrs. Grose: “Look at them. What do you think they’re saying?… They’re talking about them; talking horrors.”
And the horrors continue through the film’s dizzying conclusion (or disturbing connection to its beginning, as described earlier), one that is both spine-tingling and heavyhearted, where the secretive becomes communicative, the whispery reaches its crescendo, the indecent once again innocent.
Bundle Up: Four Films for Fall
For many of us, skies are still blue and temps are still warm. So it may be hard to get into fall-season feels. But before you know it, nature’s A/C will kick in, and we’ll find ourselves wanting to bundle up under a throw, and get all comfy, cozy, and ready to watch a fall-season flick. Here are four films that are the motion-picture equivalent of a great big hug, ones that make you feel warm, not like on a summer day, but in a warm and fuzzy kind of way:
Screen Time
The 1998 Nora Ephron film, You’ve Got Mail delivers fall-season vibes big time: Tom Hanks; Meg Ryan; a witty rom-com script; New York in the fall (“makes me wanna buy school supplies”); a heartwarming soundtrack; the unforgettable Parker “I’m having my eyes lasered” Posey. Back then, it was dial-up email, now it’s Wi-Fi, social media, and sliding into someone’s DMs that can create love connections. Classic cinematic themes of opposite attract, the importance of internal beauty, and a tireless faith (fate) in love make this a fall-season film essential.
“I didn’t know who you were with.”
Right from the opening credits, which glides the viewer into a beautiful apartment, drapes flapping in the cool breeze, to a buffet table of savory selections, this film is the epitome of cozy cinema.
Come on in!
And remember, “that caviar is a garnish!”
“You’re taking all the caviar?!”
Change of Heart
Nine years prior to You’ve Got Mail, there was Rob Reiner’s When Harry Met Sally… The Nora Ephron-penned screenplay gave new life to the romantic comedy, allowing the viewer to watch the relationship between a man and a woman, the former who believes men and women can’t be friends, develop into just that, and eventually something more. Like summer turning into fall, the film is all about transition: each goes through a major breakup (Harry with Helen, Sally with Joe); the passage of time, complete with changes in fashion and hairstyles; and most significantly, time, and life lessons, cultivate a slightly more mature Harry, and a slightly less persnickety Sally. No one is completely transformed, but each undergoes a change of heart, entertaining the notion of letting someone in, not just someone new, but someone drastically different.
During the scene that has Harry (Billy Crystal) and Sally (Meg Ryan) walking through the park, Sally sharing details (or lack thereof) of a longstanding sexual fantasy, the cinematographer, Barry Sonnenfeld captures the various orange hues and verdant shades of green in the trees. Just as the colors of the leaves begin to change, a natural visual indicator of autumn’s arrival, a shift begins for Harry and Sally. Sharing of a sexual fantasy is reserved for a more intimate bond, but here it’s shared in the context of a budding, once highly unlikely, friendship.
“Well sometimes I vary it a little.”
In another scene, Sally, in a warm and toasty red turtleneck, confides in Harry about why she and Joe broke up. The “I spy a family” monologue is Ephron prose at its best. Sally mentions at the start of her story how she and Joe “wanted exactly the same thing.” But by the end of the story, they reach a crossroads, their “wants” become “needs”; it’s another change of heart, but it’s the type that divides people apart, instead of drawing them together.
“And I started to cry.”
As the film reaches its climax, not of the iconic deli-scene kind, it’s no surprise that it takes place on New Year’s Eve, the ultimate time of the year that signifies transition. Ephron writes another heartfelt monologue, this time Harry expressing an epiphany: “… When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” I’ll have what he’s having.
“I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich.”
Shue In
This next movie may not immediately conjure up images of autumn, or New York in the fall, but Chris Columbus’ Adventures in Babysitting has that fall-season state of mind. The 1987 comedy is set partially in the Chicago suburbs, and Columbus once again captures crisp, upper-middle-class living, suddenly turned upside down (a theme he would continue to explore in 1990’s Home Alone and 1994’s Mrs. Doubtfire).
Elisabeth Shue stars as Chris Parker, a suburban teen turned reluctant babysitter. Chris and the trio of kids now in her care are forced to leave the sheltered confines of suburban life, and head into the big, bad city to pick up Chris’ friend, Brenda (Penelope Ann Miller), who’s stuck in a downtown bus station. En route, everything that could possibly go wrong, does, and Chris must tap into her highly underdeveloped street smarts.
Shue’s Chris Parker is the anti-Ferris, an underrated heroine of the ‘80s teen-comedy genre.
All the while, Chris tries to stay cool, and keeps warm, wearing gloves, a multicolored striped scarf, and a long brown coat that she inherited from her grandfather. A gold heart-shaped brooch rounds out the look; all are style cues indicative of Chris’ inherent maturity, and capability, well beyond her years. By film’s end, the character of Chris becomes the anti-Ferris, an underrated heroine of the ‘80s teen-comedy genre. Shue is lovable, relatable, and completely convincing in the role as the “every girl” in extraordinary circumstances.
The adventure begins.
And we can’t forget Thor-obsessed Sarah (Maia Brewton), the coolest tyke on roller skates.
“You want some orange?”
Mama Drama
Chris Columbus’ films showing the family structure in disarray still managed to have a comedic tone; Mrs. Doubtfire the prime example of this, as it tackled divorce, and what happens when a parent is replaced by someone who not only fills the void, but seemingly fills the position better. In 1998’s Stepmom, Columbus continued with the theme of divorce and parental replacement, but added more turmoil and tears.
Susan Sarandon’s Jackie Harrison is co-parenting two children with ex-husband, Luke (Ed Harris) and his new girlfriend, Isabel (Julia Roberts). Jackie and Isabel are at odds, with one of their wars of words taking place on a fall-leaf-covered battlefield, a fitting environment for Jackie to reveal her cancer diagnosis to Isabel.
“You guessed the wrong secret.”
Behind Isabel, the trees are alive and green, but cut to Jackie, and she almost blends into a background of fallen orange and yellow leaves, and somber earth tones. It’s after this exchange that their relationship softens, temporarily, and for the moment the tears dry, with death at one point even seen as comic relief. A Thanksgiving-themed school play features Jackie’s son, Ben (Liam Aiken) as a flying turkey (on wires) that is shot by prop bows and arrows, and muskets. A horrified Isabel asks Jackie: “Is he dead?” to which an unfazed Jackie replies: “Yeah, they killed him, but he does it so great!”
“Are you dying?”
The story continues through the fall, and into winter, culminating in the emotional “And you can have their future” scene, the beautiful midnight horse ride, and finally, a warmhearted Christmas morning, with Ben, a budding magician, receiving a gold cage with a white dove as a surprise gift; the dove also serving as a symbol of peace, the newest member of the Harrison family.
“Not today!”
So when that autumn chill begins to fill the air, get comfy on the couch with one, or all four, of these fall-inspired flicks. Which one will you bundle up with first?
Coppola Mechanism: Francis and Sofia’s Different Portrayals of Loneliness
In between The Godfather and The Godfather Part II, Francis Ford Coppola directed another classic: 1974’s The Conversation. Gene Hackman plays Harry Caul, a San Francisco surveillance expert who delves relentlessly into other people’s lives. Yet after one assignment, which has him initially (just) eavesdropping on a wealthy man’s wife and her male companion, he eventually finds himself trying to save what’s left of his own life. The viewer, funnily enough in an inherently voyeuristic role, sees that it’s not much of a life to begin with (barren loft void of color or personality; awkward attempts at human relations, specifically ones with women). Yet Harry seemingly resounds himself to reclusiveness, a sort of Catholic-induced self-punishment for the guilt that goes along with doing what he knows is wrong.
Coppola’s still-relevant script touches upon themes of technological obsession, voyeurism and paranoia, and its last scene is solemn and unsettling. Slow-jazz saxophone plays over the scene, a disturbingly serene choice to show someone peacefully succumbing to the (literal) mess one has made of his life. While Harry keeps human interaction and emotional involvement at a literal faraway distance, there’s a character in another Coppola creation who wants to intentionally connect with others, but first, with herself.
Partly based on Sofia Coppola’s time in Tokyo during her early twenties, 2003’s Lost in Translation is one of the best at capturing loneliness. The scene when Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) calls a friend on the phone—a symbol of communication and connection—illustrates yet another way Charlotte feels dismissed and disconnected, not just a stranger in a new city, but worse, in her own life. As she sits alone in her hotel room, high atop and removed from the hustle and bustle of the city below, tearful gasps represent, in more ways than one, a longing to find home. The film’s soundtrack of dreamy, melancholic melodies and fuzzy feedback create a sense of… wander, and at times convey a hopeful reawakening for Charlotte, and actor in mid midlife crises, Bob (Bill Murray), both looking to feel refreshed after spending their lives in a (jet lag) haze.
Although both films are almost 30 years apart, Francis and Sofia show characters who are achingly lonely, yet the main difference is that one feels he deserves to be, the others are desperately trying not to be.
The Conversation: Paramount Pictures; Lost In Translation: Focus Features.
Time Passages: Musical Signposts in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights
Music. Score.
For 1997’s Boogie Nights, director Paul Thomas Anderson used music as a “scene partner.” Early on, ‘70s soul (“Best of My Love”), pop (“Brand New Key”), funk (“Jungle Fever”), rock (“Spill the Wine”) and disco (“Boogie Shoes”) represented the frivolity of the sexually liberated era.
Soundtrack on Capitol Records.
“Jack Horner, filmmaker.”
Set amid the production of pre-A.I.D.S. adult films, Burt Reynolds’ Jack Horner is the creator of “exotic pictures,” which were shot on film at that time, lending, as Horner would argue, artistic credibility.
Far Gone
While his “family” of fragile performers are kept close, it literally takes just a few seconds before the countdown to 1980 for Boogie Nights to go from glory days to gory nights, with William H. Macy’s Little Bill committing a series of disturbingly matter-of-fact violent acts at a New Year’s Eve party. It’s also Horner’s “wife” and “kids” descending into drug addiction, and the arrival of a new “cheap” format known as videotape, that signify the start of the downward spirals.
Bad Vibrations
Anderson begins to add harmless ‘80s pop into seriously unsettling scenarios to create further disconnect, and to convey a non-sexual loss of innocence for Mark Wahlberg’s Eddie Adams and John C. Reilly’s Reed Rothchild. (Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian” and Rick Springfield’s “Jessie’s Girl” have never quite sounded the same since.) Yet Anderson’s most effective use of music is the faint, pulsating bell chime that serves as a warning that the past has come back to haunt Adams. His Dirk Diggler alter ego resorting to back-alley exhibitions like the ones he did as a dishwasher in the Valley in ’77.
Rolling in the Deep
However, this ominous alarm is at its most anxiety-inducing during a scene involving Horner and Heather Graham’s “Rollergirl” in a limousine joy ride with a random guy as part of a new adult series, to be recorded on grainy videotape no less. Boogie Nights’ cinematographer, Robert Elswit shoots part of this scene as if the viewer is looking through the videocamera’s viewfinder, bringing us into the backseat, watching the moment Brandy’s past comes back to haunt her as well.
Amber Waves of Pain
It also marks the beginning of Brandy’s future that may play out like Julianne Moore’s Amber Waves (Maggie as she’s known from her previous life as wife and mother) and Don Cheadle’s Buck, both of whom deal with public scrutiny as they attempt to rebuild non-porn private lives. The “heyday” has reached The End, or more fittingly, its climax.
Double Trouble: Reflections on Brian De Palma’s Dressed to Kill
Brian De Palma’s Dressed to Kill is his (graphic) homage to Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 classic, Psycho: Here’s a list of the some of the referential elements:
De Palma’s film incorporates not one, but two shower scenes;
Its female lead, Kate Miller (Angie Dickinson is to Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane; both characters essentially good women “gone bad”) is the “Hitchcock blond”;
Instead of a shower curtain, an elevator door is the temporary barrier that separates victim from killer, safety from harm, life from death;
Nancy Allen (is to Vera Miles) and Keith Gordon (is to John Gavin) step in as crime solvers;
Allen with a “tall blond” behind her and flickering lightning is to Miles with Anthony Perkins and a swinging lightbulb;
A psychiatrist (David Margulies to Simon Oakland) summarizes personality conflict, arousal and the human psyche.
Sunglasses At Night: Liz (Nancy Allen) and the “tall blond.”
Filmways Pictures. Cinematographer: Ralf D. Bode.
Also take note of duality as a running theme: Spoilers ahead: Besides De Palma’s signature split-screen technique, his script includes a scene where Michael Caine’s Dr. Elliott is on the phone in his office, taking the time to spell out his last name: “E; double l; i; o; double t,” plus there are a number of scenes involving mirrors: Elliot becoming startled when he catches his reflection in a mirror, with another occurrence shown in the trailer below; when Allen’s character, a call girl named Liz, seduces Elliott during a therapy session, he glances down to a mirror on his desk, and smirks devilishly. The audience also learns near the end of the film that there are two “tall blonds,” one with good intentions, the other, as already previously noted.
Although De Palma is certainly influenced by the Master of Suspense, he still manages to add his own visual stamps and a dreamy score by Pino Donaggio to create an enduring film that feels anything but a carbon copy.
The Best of the Worst: Plan 9 From Outer Space
Plan 9 from Outer Space, starring Bela Lugosi, is the 1959 campiest-of-campy “spooky” movie about snippy, snarky extraterrestrials resurrecting the dead on Earth. Who they couldn’t resurrect: Lugosi himself, who had died three years earlier. The director, Ed Wood used footage of Lugosi from another project they worked on earlier together, The Vampire’s Tomb, and a Lugosi lookalike (sort of) when needed.
Que Bela!
Lugosi in brighter days, ironically: 1931’s Dracula.
Universal Pictures. Cinematographer: Karl Freund.
Tor Johnson and Vampira co-star as slow-moving zombies (28 Days Later or World War Z this is not) and needless to say spend most the movie just walking around aimlessly. It’s good ‘50s fun, and if one is looking to veg out on possibly the best worst movie ever made, this very well could be it. Alien divas and ray guns; hollow graves and hollow acting… sounds like a plan.
Watch “Hitchcock,” and Watch Hitch Watch
The classic film, Psycho recently turned 60. Here’s a review of the 2012 film, Hitchcock:
“Why do they keep looking for new ones, when they still have the original?” Just one of the questions uttered by the true Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) in the film, Hitchcock, directed by Sacha Gervasi. Based on Stephen Rebello’s book, Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho, the film traces the period after North By Northwest. The old adage of “You’re only as good as your last picture” starts to peck at the director, due, in part, to skepticism that Hitch could keep his streak going, especially at age 60.
Looking for his next project, Hitch and his trusted advisors, his wife and professional collaborator, Alma Reville (Helen Mirren) and assistant, Peggy Robertson (Toni Collette) search high and low for something that will stop those bent on looking for a new Master. Hitch discovers Robert Bloch’s book, Psycho, based on the life of the Wisconsin serial killer, Ed Gein. Not only having an appetite for sneaking drink and paté de foie gras, Hitch’s appetite for something unexpected needs satiating, and thus this question is posed to Alma: “What if someone really good made a horror picture?” Against all good sense, according to just about everyone around him—press; studio heads; even an initially reluctant Alma—he persists with the professional and monetary risk that is Psycho. The actress Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johansson) is cast to play the “bird,” Marion “Crane”; the actor Anthony Perkins (James D’Arcy) Norman Bates; the actress Vera Miles (Jessica Biel) Marion Crane’s sister, Lila.
Anthony Hopkins is credible and holds Hitch’s deep, garbled, slow-paced delivery, even saying quite convincingly the classic deadpan salutation, “Good evening,” made famous by Hitch as he welcomed viewers to his television series, “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” Yet when Hitch, on set, directs Leigh in the scene from Psycho, where Marion is nervously driving her car, Hopkins’ vocal delivery slips, intentionally perhaps? One can’t help but hear the voice of Hannibal Lecter, Hopkins’ definitive role in The Silence of the Lambs.
Sound Familiar?
Hopkins - Hannibal - Hitchcock.
Orion Pictures. Cinematographer: Tak Fujimoto.
In Lambs, just as Lecter taunts Agent Starling during their first meeting, mocking in a southern drawl her “pure West Virginia” upbringing, speculating about her father being a “coal miner” and “how quickly the boys found you…sticky fumblings in the backseats of cars…,” Hitch taunts Leigh, calling Marion, “Daddy’s perfect little angel” and making reference to Marion’s “…sticky little lunchtime trysts with that oh-so-handsome failure Mr. Samuel Loomis.” Thankfully, the filmed highway on the screen behind the stunt car skips, causing Hopkins, now vocally back as Hitch, to stop the filming. Hitch then storms behind the blank screen, which casts his iconic silhouette, a self-referential silo added into most of his films.
Always in the Shadows
The iconic Hitchcock silhouette, as seen here in 1976’s Family Plot.
Universal Pictures. Cinematographer: Leonard J. South.
There’s also another predominant reference throughout Hitchcock. The Director of Photography, Jeff Cronenweth manages to frame shots that present several visual references to birds, creating a sense of foreshadowing to what would become Hitch’s next picture after Psycho, the aptly coined, The Birds.
Note:
Paintings on Hitch and Alma’s bathroom and bedroom walls.
The lampshade in the house library.
A silhouette of a bird over Hitch’s shoulder as he peers out through a set of blinds at Alma and her friend, Whit.
Bird sculptures on a liquor cabinet in Hitch’s studio office.
Birds flying low over the ocean as Alma and Whit talk on the beach.
A reference to birds in this John J. McLaughlin–penned screenplay: Vera Miles was contracted to do one more film for the notoriously involved, “he’s-always-watching” Hitch. As Biel’s Miles is changing in her dressing room, she says: “One more picture and I am free as a bird.”
Oh, Flock!
After Psycho came The Birds.
Universal Pictures. Cinematographer: Robert Burks.
The relationship between Miles and Hitch is also briefly explored. Hitch all but ignores Miles on set, and we later discover why; his focus is on Leigh, yet another fantasy blond, a style with which the director was famously enamored. Miles goes so far as to offer some cautionary advice to Leigh, after Leigh endures Dr. Lecter’s, I mean, Hitch’s relentless taunting. Hitchcock definitely highlights Hitch’s obsession with his work, and perhaps through speculation and creative license, the viewer is able to see just how consumed—voluntarily or involuntarily—he could be with his subject matter, no matter how dark and sinister. Disappointment by women play out often as well, providing a glimpse into Hitch’s sensitivity to feeling abandoned, so much so, extreme control at any cost was exuded.
On a related note, the film, rightly so, focuses equally on wife/mother figure, Alma, spotlighting how important professional collaboration and personal support are to the birth of a creative project, and in the case of Psycho, how the absence of this union could have easily resulted in something “stillborn.” Together, Master and Mistress of Suspense became the proud parents of, arguably, the best thriller in film history.
The Pop Zeal Project: Sheryl Crow: “Safe and Sound”
In 1997, pop/rock musician, Sheryl Crow sang the theme song to the James Bond film, Tomorrow Never Dies. Unfortunately, the song and the film, separately and as a pairing, failed to create any lasting memories, unlike many that had come before. However, five years later, Crow released her cool, Southern-California-inspired album, C’mon, C’mon, which featured a song entitled, “Safe and Sound.” Now THAT was what “Tomorrow Never Dies” should’ve been.
Granted Bond-film theme songs have varied in style, but there are some core elements that tend to be incorporated, giving the tracks immediate recognition, and, in many cases, help contribute to their longevity. Here’s why “Safe and Sound,” at least musically speaking, works as the Bond theme that never was:
Quieter verses with hints of piano harken to Sheena Easton’s “For Your Eyes Only.” (In a live capacity, Crow has been known to play piano when performing “Safe and Sound.”)
Those pop-ballad verses erupt to a rock-inspired chorus, not unlike Paul McCartney and Wings’ “Live and Let Die.”
As showcased on “Tomorrow Never Dies,” Crow’s vocal range still lends to that impassioned, big-voice quality reminiscent of Shirley Bassey’s work on “Goldfinger” and “Diamonds Are Forever,” and Lulu’s “The Man with the Golden Gun.”
Take a listen, and as the track plays, it’s easy to imagine the classic silhouettes and other artistic imagery featured in Bond-film opening credits. In particular, take note of the climactic crescendo and Crow’s vocal run; both cement the song as soundtrack worthy.
For “Star Wars Day,” Keep Your Ion This Scene
To honor Star Wars day (May the Fourth… be with you), here is one of the best scenes from Episode Five: The Empire Strikes Back. It’s unlikely, but in case you’re not familiar: After the Empire discovers the whereabouts of the rebel base on the ice planet of Hoth, rebel leader, Princess Leia orders alliance members to board transport shuttles in order to evacuate the base. The surface-to-space ion cannon has been set to fire upon the approaching imperial cruisers, allowing the transports to get past the distracted blockade.
Whether you fly your “nerd flag” high or not, keep your ion this scene, which works wonderfully for many reasons:
Its use of ominous orchestral music, followed quickly by the quiet tension in the base, moments before the ion cannon is fired;
The propulsive force of the cannon firing is a stellar example of Star Wars’ effective use of sound in film;
The shift to triumphant orchestral music, reminiscent of ones used in swashbuckler films of the 1940s, starring Errol Flynn;
The celebratory “Hooray!” from the rebel pilots after they learn “the first transport is away,” with Luke Skywalker once again taking on the hero role, the “every man,” leading a band of intergalactic misfits to stop the imperial ground attack;
Lastly, it celebrates a common Star Wars theme: the proverbial David outsmarting Goliath, in order to live (and fight) another day. (Goliath, not just in the form of the Empire, but in the next scene, Luke, piloting his snow speeder, takes down a towering AT-AT walker by wrapping a cable, his slingshot if you will, around its legs, sending it crashing into the snow.)
Dark Passage: Tom Ford’s Nocturnal Animals
Intensity permeates Tom Ford’s chilling 2016 thriller, Nocturnal Animals. Amy Adams stars as Susan, a wealthy L.A. art dealer, who’s married to the handsome Hutton (Armie Hammer). One day she receives a novel written by her ex-husband, Edward (Jake Gyllenhaal). He dedicates the devastating, deeply disturbing novel to her, which causes her, with every turn of the page, to reflect on her past actions (via flashbacks to Susan and Edward at the promising start of their relationship), present (unhappy) situation with Hutton, and her growing dissatisfaction with her career.
As Susan delves deeper, the viewer also sees the “story-within-a-story,” with Ford jolting the viewer back and forth between the sleek, cold confines of Susan’s ritzy home, and the isolated highways and barren backroads of West Texas, including some menacing inhabitants, that serve as the setting for Edward’s horrifying tale.
Although Nocturnal Animals is written and directed by the famous fashion designer, it offers, in part, provocative commentary on substance vs. style, romantic vs. pragmatic, enough vs. more, and sheds light on the harsh consequences when someone is consumed by the latter instead of the former.
Blunt Answers
The latest to reveal responses to Vogue’s insightful “73 Questions,” the delightfully charming, and seriously funny, Emily Blunt returns to the halls of a fashion publication. The actress, whose breakout performance as the snotty, and stressed-out, fashion-magazine assistant, Emily in The Devil Wears Prada, makes a series of references to the film as she walks through the magazine’s New York office:
Emily stating her Starbucks is “a bit cold.” Editor-in-Chief, Miranda (the aforementioned Devil) had a preference for “Starbucks…hot Starbucks.”
“… They’re both so different.” In the film, another assistant holds up two seemingly identical belts for Miranda, and states that they’re both so different, to which Andrea, the fish-out-of water protagonist, scoffs in disbelief.
Seated young woman in the background: Takes on the Andrea role from the belt scene.
Stanley Tucci played Miranda’s right-hand man in the film.
Cerulean: The blue hue that Miranda references in the belt scene.
“That’s all.” Miranda’s frequent, infamously dismissive conclusion to her list of demands, is stated here by Anna Wintour, on whom Miranda is allegedly based.
“Bore someone else with your questions.” Another of Miranda’s dismissive statements in response to one of Andrea’s reasonable inquiries.
By segment’s end, wishing for number 74 from the Mary Poppins actress whose refined voice is as smooth as satin.
Pop Playlist: Sheena Easton: “For Your Eyes Only”
This theme song to the 1981 James Bond film, featured Sheena Easton on vocals and in the opening credits, the only singer to appear as part of these signature, silhouette-heavy sequences. Easton’s vocals are crisp; the song’s verses are soft and seductive, using the classic espionage phrase as a parallel to convey the love, devotion and “fantasy you freed in me/only for you.” By the chorus, Easton lets this classified secret out, only to hide in the shadows of those intentionally softer verses once again, confirming “For Your Eyes Only” as a smartly constructed track. (Other Poptimum picks from this sensational singer: “Morning Train” as sweet pop vocalist, but by mid-’80s steered toward “bad-girl” singer [“Strut”; “Sugar Walls,” written by Prince; “U Got the Look” with Prince].)
Double Duty: Actors Who Sing; Singers Who Act
The latest telling of A Star is Born was released this weekend, starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga. Some actors surprise audiences with their singing chops, while some singers do the same with their acting abilities. Here are a few memorable examples (by no means the only examples):
Actors who sing: Amy Adams (“If I Didn’t Care” from Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day; as Mary in The Muppets); Zooey Deschanel (lead singer of She & Him); Sissy Spacek and Beverly D’Angelo (as Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline respectively in Coal Miner’s Daughter); Antonio Banderas (Evita); Hugh Jackman (Les Miserables); Eddie Murphy (Dreamgirls).
Singers who act: Diana Ross (Lady Sings the Blues); “Think” Aretha Franklin in The Blues Brothers; although Cher won an Academy Award for Moonstruck, her heartbreaking performance in Mask comes to mind; Madonna was born to play the lead in Evita and is impressive in the role, especially in The Lament scene; Will Smith, the rapper turned actor in Pursuit of Happyness (spoiler alert below, if you haven’t seen the film).
Neil Simon: The Write Stuff
The playwright and screenwriter, Neil Simon passed away today at the age of 91. Known for his smart, sharp tone, two (of the many) films easily considered required viewing: 1976’s Murder By Death; 1978’s California Suite.
Murder by Death is an homage to classic murder-mystery novels, features characters inspired by famous fictional detectives, gathered together at a creepy manor for dinner and a “lovely murder…” The cast is a collection of greats (David Niven; Alec Guinness; Maggie Smith, as high-society Dora Charleston; basically everyone in the movie). Here, Dick (played by Niven) and Dora arrive, greeted by a blind butler (Guinness). Simon’s witty writing is evident, and at times could be subtle, yet not any less hilarious. The fast-paced delivery only makes the lines even better, with Smith owning a fabulously deadpan punchline:
California Suite features four different stories that take place at a posh Los Angeles hotel. One of which serves as comedic commentary on Hollywood and awards shows, as Maggie Smith (yes, the same Smith) plays Diana Barrie, an English actress nominated for a Best Supporting Actress award, in town for the ceremony. (Smith actually won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for this role.) Every line Smith utters is gold, and the dialogue with Michael Caine is again fast-paced, like watching expert tennis players volley shots over a net. (Also of note: Jane Fonda’s Hannah, a bitter New Yorker visiting her happy-in-California ex-husband to discuss custody arrangements.) But here, Smith’s drunk Barrie returns to her hotel room after a long, disappointing night:
Get Up, Jeanie: Flashdance Scene Takes on Whole New Meaning
With all the figure skating on TV over the last two weeks, couldn’t help but think about 1983’s Flashdance. Jennifer Beals’ Alex, Pittsburgh welder by day, dancer in a bar by night, dreams of a bigger life. So too does Alex’s friend and co-worker, Jeanie, who is a figure skater by day, waitress in a bar by night. One memorable scene (of many) captures the pressure of becoming a professional athlete; the solitude of an ice skater under the spotlight; a reminder of how years of practice and sacrifice can come down to one performance. The scene features Laura Branigan’s 1982 hit, “Gloria”; it’s upbeat, yet it takes on a different tone by scene’s end. The actress, Sunny Johnson, who played Jeanie, passed away at the age of 30, a little over a year after the film’s release, which now only adds to the scene’s already devastating portrayal of potential and possibility never to be fully realized.