"When I told you to follow your heart, I only said that because I thought you had Christ in your heart."
So here’s my two cents. I don’t much care. This whole affair has reminded me that I have still never seen TESS, but it’s now on hold at the library. Other than that, I’m annoyed and bored with everyone’s Facebook postings and Tweets on the matter. I very much like Repulsion and Rosemary’s Baby and MacBeth and The Tenant and Knife in the Water and Chinatown. He was a good director (I haven’t liked anything more recent than The Tenant), but that has nothing to do with him as a person. He’s undeniably fascinating. He narrowly survived the Holocaust (the only one in his family who did), and his wife was murdered by Charles Manson’s cult. This gives him license to be moody and sullen, but clearly it does not give him license to drug a rape a 13-year-old girl.
That was over thirty years ago. If charges had never been brought against him, the statute of limitations would have run out. But charges were brought. He appeared in court. A plea bargain was reached (time served plus monetary wishwash). However, the judge reneged on the plea bargain. That’s when Polanski skipped out and left the country – living in virtual self-imposed exile ever since. The legal waters are tricky. The plea bargain wasn’t fair, but neither was the Judge’s actions.
One side argues that what he did was not so bad and should be forgiven – a sentiment echoed (though not fully) by the victim who clearly wishes to leave this affair behind. The other side argues with a vicious puritan bloodlust that he should be strapped down and serve the rest of his existence in a cell. Technically, he’s met with the terms of the plea bargain. It was the Judge’s desire to make Polanski an example (something I am NEVER a fan of) that made Polanski an outlaw - outside of his own actions, of course. It seems to me like the fair thing to do now is try Polanski for being a fugitive from justice. That would reduce the victim’s role in this whole mess, which seems to be what she wants. Metting out punishment now seems useless as a deterrent. He doesn’t appear to have gone on a raping spree in the thirty years since.
What he did was terrible. Still, I often ponder the absoluteness with which one foul deed can condemn an otherwise good man, while one miraculous deed is unable to redeem a villain. I understand that certain behaviors are not to be tolerated in polite society – not even in small portions. It’s the vitriol that disturbs me. I’m not going to shed any tears if Polanski gets appropriate jail time through a reasonable process. There is a legal system in place. It’s sometimes shaky, but it requires our faith and trust to work accurately. Of course, at times, it requires our watchful eye and criticism. However, I hope the shouting matches and unmitigated outrage are sparse. I’m already sick of hearing about it, and no trial has even started yet.
On the other hand, if you want to watch some good horror movies this Halloween, any number of early Polanski moves are excellent choices.
This weekend I saw Andrei Rublev. This is the third Andrei Tarkovsky film I’ve seen. I had previously seen Stalker (which I hated) and Solaris (which I found alternatingly beautiful and silly). Andrei Rublev went a long way towards revealing Tarkovsky to me as something more than a pretentious self-righteous hack. I still think he is pretentious and self-righteous, but Rublev illustrated a mastery that I really didn’t see in the previous two films. My thoughts on the movie are mixed. During the intermission, someone asked me what I thought so far, and I didn’t know how to answer. I still don’t, really. But I’ll give it a shot here.
First off, I have to talk about the introduction the movie received. A local podcaster named Jett Loe gave the introduction. I’m now convinced he’s a complete tool. He began his introduction, not by talking about the film itself, but about the audience that doesn’t get it. It’s their fault, you see. They’ve been conditioned by commercial cinema. He suggested we have Hitchcock to blame by focusing on suspense and cultivating and interest in “what happens next.” Of course to blame Hitchcock is to suggest that Hitchcock created suspense. It also ignores thousands of years of storytelling, much of which used suspense and mystery to engage the audience. Of course, this is not his point. He’s trying to build Tarkovsky up by tearing other filmmakers down. He went on to suggest that Hitchcock is responsible for such modern abominations as Michael Bay. Playing the Michael Bay card in cinema discussions is like playing the Hitler card in politics. It’s cheap, lazy, and ultimately cheapens your point regardless of what it is. He then went on an obligatory tangent about how watching Michael Bay is like getting assaulted. I agree that he is rough viewing for anyone with a passing interest in film, but can’t someone discuss the attributes of a film or filmmaker without having to evoke the names of those one deems lesser? Welcome to modern discussion. Blaming the audience of course undermines the technical craftsmanship that Tarkovsky does bring to the movie. He gave a half-assed rant against modern film by pointing out how flesh tones and teal are tweaked in modern cinematography – a practice that will instantly date them. Andrei Rublev remains timeless because there are no techniques to date it! This assumes that the washed out black and white that was so prevalent in the mid-sixties does not count as a technique or look.
The problem with young people is their carrying out noisy and aggressive actions not to feel lonely – and this is a sad thing – the individual must learn to be on his own as a child – for this doesn’t mean to be alone: it means not get bored with oneself which is a various dangerous symptom, almost a disease.
Not only is Tarkovsky a filmmaker, he is also an amateur psychologist (a cursory search online failed to produce proof to this effect). That night, I heard a bit of dialogue on Mad Men that instantly reminded me of this quote. A daughter tells her mother she is bored, to which her mother quips, “Only boring people get bored.” On the show, this was clearly a dismissive bullshit aphorism meant to silence someone. I wonder if Tarkovsky gave his quote as a reaction to a criticism of his movie. If so, it seems like an ugly response to suggest a critic’s point is negated by some deep psychological “disease”. To be honest, I suspect the quote is either fabricated or altered (as film history anecdotes tend to be). Regardless, the quickness to repeat the quote in introducing the movie reveals the speaker to be the kind of knee-jerk online commentator who answers differing opinions not with interest and consideration, but with character assault. It’s classier than “Fuck you and your opinions,” and better cited than the I’m-taking-the-high-road dismissal of “I respectfully disagree.”
Now to give him his due: these introductions are not easy. I’ve been to a lot of these introductions and have seen how difficult it is to lead a discussion on these films and engage the audience and not come off as something other than a raging fanboy. I certainly don’t think I could do it. Even if I were to talk about my favorite movies, I’m too nervous having private one-on-one conversations. I could never speak in front of people. But most of the discussions take place after the film – in an effort to invite discussion with the audience. Here, it took place before – killing an organized discussion. That may be for the best, as I don’t think I could have sat through another rapturous masturbatory exaltation of the movie at the expense of other filmmakers or ideas.
Now to talk about the movie itself: I have issues with Tarkovsky, as you may have ascertained. But my issues do not necessarily stem from the idea that he is too slow or boring for me to stomach, which is what everyone assumes. I’m an atheist, and I love to see that depicted with some thought in films. I’m not immediately averse to God talk in movies. That doesn’t bother me. This film, like many religious films, does criticize the church (as an institution) in its praise of faith and spirituality. What does bother me is how Tarkovsky relentlessly equates faith with a disdain for intellectualism. The speech at the end of Stalker, after all the ranting previous in the film, was flat out offensive – equating science with nihilism. With Andrei Rublev, the anti-intellectualism is more nuanced and considered. It is mostly represented by the character of Kirill, a monk who hasn’t read a book in ten years and plans never to read another. His fate is somewhat ironic considering that he ends up copying the scripture fifteen times. Early in the film, Kirill rants to Theophanes that spreading knowledge is akin to spreading sorrow. He goes on to state that ignorance is better, because it allows one to follow his heart. This is followed through at the end of the movie when a bell maker’s son, upon completion of constructing a working bell, confides in Rublev that his father had NOT passed down the secret of casting bells as the kid had led everyone to believe. In fact, he did it by following his heart and crap. This secret inspires Rublev to go back and paint “icons”. (Of course, in doing this, the young bell maker deceives everyone and takes advantage of their faith in him.) This sore point for Tarkovsky will always remain a sore point that I am unable to reconcile with. It will ultimately never enable me to fully embrace Tarkovsky.
What I do find engaging about that final moment is that Rublev is only able to return to painting after some life experience. So am I to assume that information is bad while only experience is good? I will grumble about that while moving on. I wonder how much of this comes from Tarkovsky himself, and how much is in the translation. As for his shooting style, I’m not a fan of slow motion or cutting to horses doing somersaults. These things feel too self-consciously important to me. But Tarkovsky is not one to engage the audience by keeping them guessing. He leaves them with drawn out imagery to that they may sit with their thoughts and reflect. He does not draw out moments in Andrei Rublev as he will with Solaris and Stalker, but he does keep the pace deliberate.
Regardless, most of my reservations are swayed by the glorious, beautiful camera work. Andrei Rublev is miles more beautiful than either Stalker or Solaris. The washed out black and white is luminously stark. The relentless gray skies glowing through bare tree branches. The sea of mud. The hardened faces. Cold, empty chambers and fake birds gliding over intricate battle scenes below. The movie is a pleasure to look at – particularly during the bell casting sequence in which most of the characters have shut the hell up. If Tarkovsky movies contained no dialogue and existed solely on visuals, I would love this film.
The movie is violent in parts, as it needs to be. The only moment that made me ache though, was the horse falling down the stairs. According to Wikipedia, the horse was actually injured, tortured, and killed. That moment was clearly not faked and hurt to watch.
Now a genuine question: Tarkovsky seems very humorless to me. The jester at the beginning is not especially funny (on purpose?) and is played for tragic effect. But there is one moment that I would have normally laughed at loud at. But in this audience, I feared that the film was to be taken with such reverence that laughter might be to imply a heavy-handedness in the film. During one scene, Rublev encounters pagans (“Witchcraft!”). This scene involves numerous women bouncing about naked. As Rublev approaches one, he steps too close to a campfire and his robe catches fire. This seemed like a deliberate visual gag to me, but since no one else in the theater laughed (including the speaker who introduced the movie), I wondered if I had misread the scene. Surely it’s not a deliberate attempt at subtle symbolism. Is it okay to laugh at a Tarkovsky movie?
The clip above is a beautiful illustration of reason and understanding in the face of the modern conversation. A mob of angry presumptuous jerks repeating ignorant, hateful assertions in an effort to intimidate someone into agreeing with them despite the fact that the mob doesn't even know what it's talking about.
I’ve said it before, but it’s true. I am on a different wavelength than everybody else. I’m not on a higher level. Hopefully not on a lower level. Just on a . . . *different* wavelength. Sometimes I have a very hard time holding a conversation with people. I’m not uneducated. I’m not overeducated. Part of the problem is that I just don’t have any conversation skills. Or I get stuck in conversations I couldn’t care less about. Mostly, however, I dislike the state of conversation these days. I hate communicating.
This pitiful state is most obvious in political debate. I almost always fall on the liberal and progressive side of issues, and the current brouhaha over Health Care is no exception. Both sides frustrate me. Every debate degenerates into sarcasm, name-calling, exaggeration, pompous hyperbole, and self-righteous disgust. This happens on both sides of the debate – and these days there only seems to exist two separate and mutually exclusive sides. If you question one aspect of an argument, you are immediately accused of being on the other side. There is no middle ground, and as a result, the important questions and truths are being lost and ignored. Everyone thinks they’re Steve Colbert. Smug, satirical, shocked at the hypocrisy of the other side.
Both liberals and conservatives seem to have adopted the “either-you’re-with-us-or-against-us” mindset. And most frustratingly of all, people seem to choose their side without understanding a damn thing about it. Everyone wants to look smart without asking any questions. Check out this clip of the Tea Baggers protesting on 9/12. None of them even know why they’re there. They just are.
The best part is the interviewer’s commenting how no one seems to understand the difference between fascism, socialism, and communism. Still, I can’t help but wonder if there really wasn’t ONE PERSON present who knew why they were there, who could actually answer some of the questions posed to them, who were actually intelligent. Are conservatives really that stupid? Surely not. Although I have yet to hear a modern conservative pundit who didn't sound like a hateful, foolish hypocrite. At the same time, what the fuck are they protesting? They’re upset that the President wants to provide Health Insurance to Americans? A few conservative pundits have said that it’s more than that, but they never explain such assertions further. It’s all racist, batshit crazy, ignorant nothing. Obama’s speech wasn’t specific enough to be filled with lies. But rather than grill him on details, people are simply calling him a liar and leaving it at that. Useless.
During the Bush Administration, there was plenty of vitriol and frustration coming from the liberals. But it didn't come from nowhere. It began with the handling of the 2000 Election. It escalated with the pandering to the lowest common denominator in building a case for war with a country that never threatened us and couldn't defend itself. (For the record, I don't think Saddam was good man, but out of all the dictators doing terrible things at that time, he was really low on the list.) There were specific points in the presented case that were regularly challenged and brushed aside of the Administration. Years later, it has come to light that much of the evidence was not just wrong, but out and out fabricated. This is the kind of dissent we need It is our duty to keep out leaders in check. We elect them (usually), and we can't just hand over all our power tot hem - ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ASK US TO! Ahem. The Administration flaunted its disregard for facts and truth and reason on a regular basis, and again pandered to hate and bigotry to win the re-election. I remain frustrated that this happened and baffled that so many defended (and continue to defend) the practices of that Administration. But the left was presenting reasoned, well-thought questions while the right countered with smirks, fear tactics, and godfucking. These are serious issues that need serious debate. And the right continually fails to provide that.
I’m trying really hard to understand the conservative side of this Health Care issue, but conservatives can’t seem to articulate anything reasonable. There are plenty of liberals who are guilty of the very same, but that side I get. At the risk of sounding like a braggart, I have actually done some research and I understand what’s being debated, what’s true and what isn’t, and why these issues are important. Someone didn’t just dictate them to me. The main issue being that Americans need Health Insurance both to be healthy and to avoid losing all their money when they get sick. I’m having difficulty seeing the evil in this.
On Facebook the other day, I got in a conversation with someone about the “lies” in Obama’s speech. I joined the conversation by pointing out that Joe Wilson was wrong in his rudely and inappropriate assertion. This other person asserted that everything else in the speech was a lie. I asked him what specifically, and the asswipe got sarcastic and provided a link while implying the link illustrated the plan is not deficit-neutral. In fact, the link suggested just the opposite. The shit didn’t even read his own link. This is the current state of conversation. Not five minutes later, I got into a conversation with someone on Twitter. I made a statement that didn’t contradict anything anyone else said – about Kanye West of all things. What kind of response did I get? Sarcasm. More sarcasm. Are people really unable to communicate without resorting to irony. (The person apologized when I expressed frustration and said that the quip was meant as a slam to Kanye. Sadly, the quip was aimed at me. Not Kanye.). I suppose it’s a defense mechanism – to keep people at a distance. I have my own defense mechanisms. At work, specifically, my conversations are taciturn and I never reveal too much about how I feel or what I think. This is mostly because I wish to avoid more sarcasm, self-righteous indignation, or trumped-up drama. Also, I’ve gotten pretty sick of talking to folks who are self-appointed know-it-alls. What happened to ordinary conversations in which people can just learn what the other person thinks and reconcile it with what they think. I’m scared of talking to people because I worry that the result will be something that completely turns me off.
Sometimes, I hate logging onto Twitter because there are so many people on there who regularly bitch and moan about how annoyed they are with every aspect of society. (Kind of what I’m doing here). I understand that people need a place to vent, but why the constant barrage of put-upon outrage. I am amazed at the unrelenting vitriolic hyperbole aimed at pop culture. Do we really need to get worked up about how terrible Kanye West is? I agree that he’s a jackass, but I don’t HATE him. Even more frustrating is the hate leveled at some performers simply because someone doesn’t like their movies. I’m not innocent of this attitude. I never want to sit through another Mel Gibson movie ever again. But why fling such hatred at people who barely register on the zeitgeist of pop culture. Is Demetri Martin really someone we need to bring down and destroy? Why can’t anybody just articulate what they don’t like about something rather than posting something broad and ugly and fishing? Case in point: one facebook friend just posted “Malice towards all.” That’s the entire post. The point? Attention, I guess. It’s his schtick. And I’m so sick of it.
Now for the really frustrating part. I know that there are people out there having decent, civil, intelligent conversations. I see it in coffee shops and bars. There are some people that seem really interesting and I would love to talk to them. But I don’t know what the hell to say. Some are clients at the place where I work. Some work at places I frequent. Is it okay to ask out someone for a drink. Even dudes? Would that make things weird. If someone seems nice, what do I say to get an in?
This week, I started my Digital Editing Class. I chatted a bit with the dude sitting next to me and the teacher. But not as much as some of the other folks in the class. I don’t know what to say to people. I really need to make some friends. I long for adult conversation. But I avoid conversation for fear of all that frustrating shit. I hate communicating with people, but I really want to. Is anyone else having this problem? No? Just me? I figured.
I’ve seen a bunch of movies lately, and I thought I’d write a little about them.
The Hurt Locker
The Hurt Locker is the latest in the long string of financially unsuccessful films about the Iraq war. Jeremy Renner plays the lead character, a bomb specialist whose methods are less than traditional. At the beginning of the movie, having just arrived in a new squadron to replace the old bomb specialist, Renner is seen trotting off to diffuse the bomb, hiding himself from the watchful eyes of his superiors by dropping a smoke bomb an dancing into the fog. Right away, he is set up as the wild card. He’s reckless and full of energy. Immediately, we are meant to like him, and we do. It’s Jeremy Renner. The rest of the small group is equally easily identifiable with any audience who has seen a war film in the last thirty years. There’s the uptight Captain who has no patience for Renner’s peculiarities, and there’s the green specialist, who quickly falls under Renner’s spell.
But there’s a lot in this movie that sets it apart from other Iraqi war films. For one thing, it moves from tense suspense piece to tense suspense piece. Every sequence is another excuse to set the audience on edge. Mainly though, the movie doesn’t have some big statement to make about war. We get it. War is bad. People who don’t feel that way, will probably always feel that way. Instead, The Hurt Locker focuses on character. It goes delves much further into Renner’s character than most would. Ultimately, its ending is not about war, but about one particular soldier. Renner is great (as usual) as the soldier who keeps mementos of near death experiences under his bed. His downtime consists of mini-fight clubs with his friends. He is more daunted by which cereal he should pick than which wire he should cut. The movie is directed by Kathryn Bigelow, who has gained a reputation as a great action director – a reputation I never really thought she deserved that much . . . until now.
Humpday
Humpday is typical mumblecore. Take a “controversial” subject and talk the fucking thing to death. Both actors are good as two old friends who reconnect and dare each other to make a gay porno together, but I got real sick of hearing these two play their game of gay chicken over and over. The movie is well acted – particularly by Alycia Delmore as the housewife who cannot bring herself to get behind her husband’s sudden Bohemian desire to make artsy gay porn. In the end, the movie doesn’t make any huge statements about sexuality or even porn. The characters have attacked both subjects from every angle themselves until there's nothing left to say on the subject. But it is revealing that at the time the two characters book the motel room and prepare to make the movie, they have no camera crew. This is just for them.
Adoration
The latest from Atom Egoyan. As usual, Egoyan is obsessed with media. And with media changing radically every day, one would expect him to have more stories in him. Adoration is about a kid whose phoney story spreads across the Internet like wildfire, and then gets talked to death in “chat rooms.” These particular chat rooms consists of video screens and everyone talking over each other – much how I use Twitter, only with actors rather than fonts.
I imagine this movie is a reaction to how anyone can vomit their useless, uninformed, reactionary opinions all over the Internet – inviting only more useless, uninformed, reactionary responses. The main kid goes about – checking his phone which is always at the ready with the latest diatribe from the “chat rooms” aimed squarely at himself. I hated this. The dialogue is contrived and stilted. The teacher really needs to do something about that unibrow she’s sporting. And the opinions expressed in the movie prove just as obnoxious as any on any message board. It’s official: Egoyan is not for me.
District 9
District 9 plays like a cross between Cloverfield and Starship Troopers. It begins as a faux documentary with clever satirical overtones, but regularly breaks out of its documentary convention and becomes more and more like a thriller. Eventually, it is nearly all thriller – mirroring the kind of transformation the main character takes from . . . well, I guess I won’t get spoilerish. Unlike most alien invasion movies, this one supposes that aliens land – not in America or even England – but in South Africa. The plot involves aliens becoming stranded on Earth and getting herded in slums where they are harassed and ostracized. Frankly, I think this is giving the human race too much credit. I have difficulty believing that we wouldn’t blast them all to hell and examine their parts for medical fodder, but instead their treatment is meant to mirror apartheid times.
It is shot on an extremely low budget, at least for a action blockbuster – like Coverfield – but its special effects are impressive nonetheless. The acting is too broad at times, but the but the script and direction are bold and clever. It’s not especially tense or funny, but it is fascinating and involving. The movie is strongest when it moves away from big broad statements and focuses on action and the two sympathetic aliens. There are many holes that the audience is invited to fill in. Plus an ending that leaves some rather ominous threads dangling, but as anyone familiar with my taste can tell you, I dig that shit. My expectations were high, and I was disappointed, but not by much.
In the Loop
The rapid-fire political comedy that reminds me of Billy Wilder’s 1961 movie, One, Two, Three. The puns, name-calling, and gags come at a furious pace. The camaera is never still. Characters rip into each other for fear of being discovered as frauds. As an observation on politics, it is the complete opposite of The West Wing. With In the Loop, characters are barely even aware of their own political beliefs and instead focus their efforts on making headlines and not pissing off the wrong people. Everyone shouts each other down. People take trans-Atlantic flights just to be “room meet”. Memos and reports are leaked. And stances are made based on which way the wind is blowing.
The movie portrays politics in the most cynical light. It’s not about people pushing evil agendas as much as it’s about incompetents trying not to be found out. The dialogue is wicked clever. The acting is perfectly breathless. And in typical British fashion, it is all so wonderfully dry. Best of all, the stubborn refusal to deliver a happy ending. It’s not heartbreaking, or inspiring, but it is damn funny and entertaining.
Ponyo
Tonight, I made a revelation: I am not a fan of Miyazaki when he is in kiddie mode. I absolutely love Spirited Away, and much of his adult fantasies, but when he commits to a children’s movie (like My Neighbor Torturo), he really commits to making something upbeat and hopeful and brightly colored and full of children’s music. I never winced or cringed at the material. And if I ever have children (bah!) I wouldn’t hesitate to show them this or any Miyazaki movie. They are damned charming and sweet. But I ain’t into charming and sweet. I wish he would let up on the sugar just a little bit.
There are a lot of obstacles in adapting G. I. Joe into a full-length movie. And most of them stem from the source material: a doll. Over the years, there have been many marketing materials employed in selling these dolls, and most of those took on a life of their own. The comics (especially those written by Larry Hanna) and the mid-eighties cartoon series. In both cases, the attention any character received was determined by which new toy Hasbro was pushing that season. Still, some characters managed to obtain popularity and endure: Snake Eyes, Cobra Commander, Storm Shadow, Zartan, etc. While the characters in the series were generally defined by their role and ability, the characters in the comics actually had complex histories and relationships. Logically, that’s where one would look in adapting G. I. Joe for the big screen. However, it would appear that the writers of the movie were unfamiliar with either the comic OR the series.
The writers could have utilized the comics to focus on the complicated murderous history between Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow (which the movie does acknowledge, but overly simplifies) and how it ties them to Zartan. They could have explored Cobra Commander’s relationship with his estranged, revolutionary son. They could have taken advantage of the romantic triangle between Destro, the Baroness, and Major Bludd (who is entirely absent from the movie). They could have recounted the doomed relationship between Ripcord and civilian Candy. But instead, the backstory is reduced to a lame romantic fling between Duke and the Baroness in the most unsurprising development imaginable. No Springfield. No Cobra Island. No Dr. Venom. No shocking deaths.
The writers even ignore the cartoon. The Baroness is American, while members of the Joe team are not(!). Destro does not don his mask until the very end (in a hilariously absurd scene) while the Commander never wears his at all. Ripcord is black. Breaker is Iraqi. Hawk is worthless. And while I understand that no one can replace the late great Chris Latta as the voice of Cobra Commander, the voice Joseph Gordon-Levitt uses sounds like a villain voice put on by a twelve-year old. And Snake Eyes was always a fascinating character despite his silence. Here, he is only trotted out for action scenes. No Shipwreck. No ridiculous Cobra-shaped hideouts. No lame PSA’s.
The movie is pseudo-camp. Rather than approach the subject seriously, or with a modicum of respect, the filmmakers throw garish costumes on the actors, fill the script with recycled clichés and relentless magical exposition, and spin and sweep the camera mercilessly. The cinematography is bland. The score is a generic canned thumping monstrosity. And the actors rush through their awful dialogue breathlessly. Flashbacks are regularly dropped in so clumsily, I have to commend the filmmakers for resisting the urge to introduce them with wavy line dissolves and harp musical cues.
The movie even fumbles on the action scenes. There was a time when stunts showcased physical prowess. They were impressive to marvel at, and even suspenseful as physical harm seemed nearly impossible to avoid. But in the digital age, where cartoons are employed to do most of the stuntwork, action scenes are just an excuse to illustrate how much physical damage property can sustain. Cars crack and windows break. Shit blows up, but none of the leaps and slow motion missiles are remotely convincing.
The only highlight is the flashback between Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow. As ten year olds, they meet are instantly mortal enemies. While the scene is muddled by poor camerawork and clumsy editing, watching two ten year olds fight in that heightened grown-up Hollywood kick fighting dance is the pinnacle of the movie’s camp sensibilities.
Going camp rather than serious and dark is probably a smart decision. Unfortunately, the filmmakers don’t go far enough in that direction. Generic dialogue from ordinary action scenes are recycled – rather than the tried and pathetic humor from the series. The filmmakers could have had a field day trotting out the Crimson Twins or creating Serpentor or employing Zartan’s propensity for turning blue in sunlight. All ridiculous conceits from the series that are ripe to be mocked. Imagine anyone trying to take Village Peopled Shipwreck seriously. If turning the movie into a comedy, why not take advantage of Cobra Commander’s baffoonish incompetence from the series? As a result, everything feels half-assed and on auto-pilot. The characters are even more paper-thin than the original case files that accompanied each action figure. But in all fairness, that original cartoon really, really sucked. Still, the comic excelled at times. This was a chance for someone to do G.I. Joe right, and they fucked it up royally.
*For the sake of full disclosure, I am a bit bitter because I actually adapted the first fifty issues of the G.I Joe comics into a trilogy of scripts that I think are pretty decent. And they went with THIS instead? Bah!
I have never been a fan of bedtime. I always stayed up later than I was supposed to. But in the era before cable or VCRs, there wasn’t a whole lot for a five-year-old to do after hours. There were no networks completely dedicated to animation or old television shows. There was nothing I could tape to watch over and over at my leisure. Instead, I relied on local programming. Those five stations that generally defaulted to talking heads after ten o’clock.
But my favorite channel was the local nothing channel – later to be absorbed into FOX. On Saturday nights, at 10:30, this channel played a different Abbott and Costello movie every week. This is where I became a fan. Later, this same channel would play Abbott and Costello movies every Friday night from 12:30 until 5 in the morning. I would spend the entire week in anticipation of staying up all night watching black & white movies. I still do that regularly.
Abbott and Costello made 36 movies together during their career. And most of them are crap. They relied too much on the same ole routines. Their dynamic rarely changed. Costello mugged for the camera too much and never strayed from his whiny man-child persona. And most of the plots were paper thin and strained any and all logic. Despite this, I watched many of their films over and over, and even came to love a few. It was on one of those Saturday nights when I stumbled upon the movie that inspired me to delve into film history for the first time. Most of these movies were completely forgotten by Sunday morning, but not this one. One Saturday night, I was lucky enough to witness Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.
The plot is surprisingly clever. Dracula plans to revive the Frankenstein monster. In order to do this, he has employed a female mad scientist to find him a docile brain for transplant. The brain in question: Lou Costello’s. But Larry Talbott (aka the Wolf Man) has found out about Dracula’s plot, and employs Abbott and Costello to help stop him. Hence, the holy trinity of Universal Monsters were all engaged in a single plot along with one of Universal’s most bankable comedy teams. And what is most impressive about it: the monsters play it straight – making it work both as a horror film and a comedy film. That last point is debatable, but if one were to exorcise Abbott and Costello from the film, it would play as a straight up horror movie.
From the morbid opening animation to the chaotically choreographed chase through the castle, this movie is great fun. Bela Lugosi plays Dracula (one of only two times he ever played his signature role). Lon Chaney, Jr. plays Larry Talbott. Sadly, Boris Karloff did not reprise his role as the Frankenstein Monster – having retired from the role nine years earlier. Both Lugosi and Chaney are excellent in their most famous roles. They never once back down from the seriousness the story requires. They aren’t suddenly more clumsy or incompetent than they are in other horror films. They don’t crack jokes There are some pathetic moments played for laughs – the Wolf Man’s stalking of Costello in the hotel room is a particularly drawn out and ridiculous (although Costello’s paranoia that Talbott may have counted the apples in his fruit bowl is a comic highlight). But the climactic chase through the castle is a near perfect culmination of plot and character.
Costello is strapped to a rolling gurney. The Frankenstein Monster is strapped down on a gurney nearby. The mad scientist is preparing for the operation when Abbott and Talbott break into the lab. As horror movie timing would have it, Talbott then notices the full moon. He transforms, right there with his hands (now paws) untying Costello’s binds. Just then Dracula returns. The old enemies regard each other and take opposing stances on each side of the gurney. Dracula pushes the gurney aside as he retreats out the door - the Wolf Man hot on his heels - leaving the rolling gurney to spin out of control. The score reaching a fevered pitch of shrieking strings. It is just then that the Frankenstein Monster regains consciousness and breaks his own straps. Abbott unties Costello and they race through the castle – trying to escape the Monster and avoid the warring vampire and werewolf crashing through the halls at the same time. If only every movie ended with such a wild monster mash-up.
Inspired by the movie, I bullied my parents into buying me my first film book (which I happen to still own). This book did an excellent job of breaking down the different kinds of old school horror into different categories. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, atomic age monsters, aliens, and Frankenstein. Upon reading the book, I was surprised to find A&CMF listed in the Frankenstein chapter of the book. It turns out, it’s the eighth movie in the original Frankenstein series – absorbing the Dracula and Wolf Man movies into its story. Instantly, I became intrigued by this. I wanted to see the other movies. How did a story evolve from the original Frankenstein (or if going chronologically, the original Dracula) to A&CMF?
Once I had a VCR, it became my mission to track down all of the Frankenstein movies in order – as well as any ancillary horror films like The Invisible Man - and collect them. I also resorted to scouring the television schedule – hoping to find them. At one point I acquired a VHS-C camcorder and would point the camera at the TV screen in order to get copies of some of these movies. I still have those video tapes of The Invisible Man in which one can hear the phone ring or a door slam. The image quality was terrible, but it was the only way I had to get some of these movies. Sadly, many of the Frankenstein movies did not become available on video at all until I was nearly done with high school. At last, I could see the missing pieces between the Wolf Man and the Frankenstein monster getting entombed in ice, and how Wolf Man and Dracula became mortal enemies fighting over the Frankenstein monster. How did this happen? It didn’t. By the end of the penultimate entry, Dracula has yet even to know that either the Wolf Man or Frankenstein monster even exists. The Wolf Man is cured. Dracula and the Frankenstein monster have been destroyed (again). The continuity had grown more and more spotty as the franchise progressed, but I didn’t expect events to downright contradict what would come later. What a let down.
Despite my disappointment, the anticipation of seeing how this story tied together remained just on the periphery of my radar for a decade. This anticipation was another factor in my budding love of the serialized story – as incongruous and contradictory as it may be. At least this story built to something. It eventually ended up with many threads crashing together. Granted, some threads were invented specifically for the final movie, and the beginning is stronger than the ending. And the ultimate fate for all monsters involved seems no more final or conclusive than any fate each of the monsters had encountered previously. But this was the order I experienced the movie in, and so everything was foreplay to that final brawl.
In the years since, it is easy to see that A&CMF is not a very good movie, although it remains deeply important to me. Despite how it incorporates three separate movie franchises rather effortlessly, it is a sad shadow of the original films that inspired each series.
Using my first film book, I taught myself a great deal about the history of Universal Horror – and I have become a life-long fan of the black and white horror movie. There are still movies mentioned in that book that I have yet to see. I also went on to purchase Abbott and Costello film books. Thanks to A&CMF and its serialized nature, I became a life long fan of film history. Over the next few years, I taught myself all about black & white horror movies, and continue to seek these gems out. I miss the gothic Teutonic sets and broadly morbid humor that these old horror movies have.
I have remained a fan of both horror and serialized story-telling ever since.
Some favorite movies discovered on the journey inspired by Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein:
