Blast of Silence [1961]
Starring: Allen Baron, Larry Tucker, Molly McCarthy
Dir. Allen Baron

I’ve become incredibly jaded about film over the past decade. It’s like I had this great love affair that lasted twenty years and then the magic somehow wore off. I know a lot of it has to do with my age. Hollywood makes movies for kids. Transformers. Hulk. Iron Man. So the movies aren’t that good and like an old grandpa I complain about the cost of admission. And don’t even get me started on concessions. Four dollars for a bottle of water! How stupid do they think I am?

So of course I turn to DVD’s and rediscover the movies that made me fall in love with that nasty mistress in the first place. And although it’s great visiting old friends, nothing compares to the old days, when everything was new and unexpected. I’m old. I’ve seen and done it all. Right?

Wrong. Blast of Silence is a brilliant movie, so good it can make you fall in love again.

Writer/Director Allen Baron is also the star of the film, playing Frank Bono, a lonely, disgruntled, hitman on a job in New York. Baron has a great mug, something like a cross between George C. Scott and Robert De Niro. It’s a New York mug. Bono approaches his profession with simplicity. He’s alone in the world and prefers it that way. In and out, that’s the way to complete a hit. Get to the city. Make contact. Purchase a weapon. Spot the target. Make the kill. Get paid and get out. But nothing is that simple. Try as he might, Bono keeps making choices that complicate the situation. He lets his feelings interfere with the job. He starts thinking too much, feeling too much. He makes the mistake of becoming a human being, and human beings have a hard time surviving in the world of murder.

The title of the film Blast of Silence serves several analogies, the most obvious being a .38 handgun and silencer that Bono spends most of the movie trying to purchase for the hit. But the title also refers to the moment of being born and the moment of dying. The opening shot of Blast of Silence is nothing but blackness as the narrator, mocking Bono with his New York accent, guides the hero towards his destiny, poetically recalling the pain and anguish of childbirth, as a speck of light appears in the blackness which turns into the opening of a tunnel, until the hero emerges in Penn Station. It’s a great opening, fueled with Freudian angst and a contagious energy that never lets up.

The cinematography by Merrill Brody (who also produced) is amazing. If you’ve never been to New York, simply watch this movie and you will feel you’ve been there. You can feel the cold of December. You can feel the wind and the rain. Brody uses the theme of the film to great effect, filling the frames with long takes of Bono walking through the streets of Manhattan, stretched out moving shots of Bono following his prey, or trying to get his head together.

The narration may have been an after thought by producers since the film has so many shots with no dialog. The narration isn’t necessary, but it’s done with humor and isn’t distracting.

Blast of Silence feels like a French New Wave film, coming out in 1961 on the heels Godard’s Breathless [1959], and foreshadowing Alphaville [1965]. Blast of Silence is a must see for movie fans. A beautifully crafted film. The simplicity of its narrative, its character, images and theme, cuts like a switchblade but with the precision of a surgeon using a scalpel. Fallen out of love with movies? Watch Blast of Silence and rediscover why you fell in love in the first place.

The trailer for the new James Bond flick is out for Quantum of Solace and it looks like a Jason Bourne movie, especially some of the stunts and fight sequences, like when the camera jumps with Bond as he flies over a building on a motorcycle, very reminiscent of Bourne jumping from a rooftop through a building window.

Make sure there’s an intense fight scene in a small bathroom or apartment.

Middle-aged woman from his own agency trying to hunt him down? Check.

Bond is a relic of the 50’s and 60’s. When they decided to revamp the series, they should have done period pieces and basically started remaking the movies. That’s what Bond movies are anyway, remakes. It’s always the same story, Bond chasing a bad guy and trying to kill him before the world is destroyed. In Solace it looks like Bond goes rouge and is hunted down by his own people, again, just like Jason Bourne.

Bond has been suffering from an identity crisis ever since Roger Moore left the series. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of Moore’s work. But at least you knew what you were getting with him. An old guy trying to get laid and try to kill some bad guys. I like Craig as an actor and he does fine as Bond, but he lacks humor. He reminds me of the T-1000 in Terminator 2 or something.

I guess I can’t rip on the movie since I haven’t seen it yet. But based on the track record of Bond over the past two decades, I think I can take a wild guess that it ain’t nothing I ain’t seen before. And probably done better in the recent Bourne flicks.

The Passion of Ayn Rand [1999]
Starring: Helen Mirren, Eric Stoltz, Julie Delpy, Peter Fonda
Dir. Christopher Menaul

I was thirteen years old when I read “Atlas Shrugged”. It was an adult book and I thought I was all that because I understood it. It was the same year I read “Catch 22”. I remember trying to read “Jaws” when I was eight and not getting it. But now at thirteen it was all coming together. You know that weird transition when you begin to “understand” the adult world? I was intrigued with “Shrugged” but not because of its politics. Even at thirteen, I new Rand’s philosophy was bullshit. In fact she dedicates an entire chapter to her social political ideals and I could only get through a few pages before I skipped the entire chapter, the chapter when her ideal man, John Galt, spits out Rand’s philosophy.

Anyway, it was the sexual exploits of her heroine, Dagny Taggart, that I found intriguing. Not only was Taggart (Rand) searching for the ideal man, she also seemed to be searching for the ultimate fuck. Rand is obsessed with the genius of men that can build big things like skyscrapers and railroads and rockets and shit. I mean, how fucking Freudian can you get? Although I’m offended by her philosophy, her journey as an artist is interesting. She seemed to do the same shit her male contemporaries did when it came to her art. She would do just about anything to get the art accomplished. She came up with a philosophy that rationalized her eccentric behavior in order to get what she wanted, which was to get laid and to do her art. That’s the real philosophy of Rand. “How do I get some cock?” and “How do I finish my book?” What she understood is that she could not accomplish one without having the other.

“The Passion of Ayn Rand” is based on a book by one of Rand’s disciples, Barbara Branden. Rand is played here by the remarkable Helen Mirren, and as usual her performance is spot on. Barbara (Julie Delpy) and Nathaniel (Eric Stoltz) are two young admirers of Rand’s who take a journey to meet their idol. They’re surprised when Rand takes them under her wing. Eventually Rand and Nathaniel, twenty-five years her junior , begin to have an affair, but it’s not a secret one. In fact Rand and Nathanial ask for their respective spouses permission to fuck each other, three times a week. Both Barbara and Frank O’Connor (Peter Fonda) agree to the bullshit scenario. According to Rand’s philosophy, this fuck-fest was all based on logic. Nathaniel is her intellectual equal, therefore it was only logical that she should allow him to throw a hump into her a few times a week, without Barbara or Frank getting all bent out of shape about it. Get it? Eventually Rand has major falling out with her disciples, when she discovers (at 60 years old) that Nathaniel (at 35) isn’t attracted to her anymore and has met a younger woman. Somehow Nathaniel not wanting to have sex with a sixty-plus year old hag didn’t seem logical to her.

“The Passion of Ayn Rand” suffers from the same affliction most bio-pics suffer from, and that is, if the viewer doesn’t already know much about the central character, they won’t come out learning much about them in the end, or have any frame of reference on why certain transitions are happening or why they should care about them. But the performances are good, and the main theme of Rand’s artistic travails, the use of sex as an artistic aphrodisiac, and the hypocrisy of her “logic” is captured well. Rand was not an attractive woman, which makes her sexual prowess even that more amazing. She used her superior intellect to convince dudes like Nathanial and Frank to cough up the goods. In other words, Rand was a pimp. A true pimp controls a ho with the mind, not the fists.

Ciao! Manhattan [1972]
Dir. John Palmer and David Weisman
Starring: Edie Sedgwick, Wesley Hayes, Paul America

This is a weird one. I know technically Ciao! Manhattan isn’t a good movie, so I can’t recommend it. BUT. I like the movie. The story is a mess, as the filmmakers started the film in ’67 but had to abandon it after its star, Edie Sedgwick, disappeared off the face of the earth while filming. Once they tracked her down, three years have passed. They can’t pick up filming where they left off because the whole cast is scattered across America. So they start a new narrative, one that mirrors Sedgwick’s own journey, and mix it with the old footage from ‘67, turning Ciao! Manhattan into a semi-documentary/biography of the last years of Sedgwick’s life.

I’ve never really been interested in the whole Andy Warhol scene, and have had absolutely no interest in Sedgwick. But her story is a sad one, and the film is haunting, because Sedgwick actually seems to have some real acting talent, and a fearless spirit that the camera adores. A young woman of the 1960’s who has been trapped in a drug induced purgatory for several years, with faint glimpses in her eyes of the hope of escaping. She finally did in 1971 when she died of an overdose before the world premier of the film.

What makes Ciao! Manhattan work, despites some of its awkward technicalities, and amateurish acting, is its raw emotional center and genuine urgency. It documents, in a hellish quality, both Sedgwick’s own personal nightmare, and the strange transition between 1967 and 1971, when rock turned into heavy metal, weed turned into cocaine, and hippies turned into Hell’s Angels.

Man. They’re dropping like flies this year. Like Altman, Peckinpah, Frankenheimer and Lumet, Sydney Pollack cut his teeth directing TV in the 50’s and 60’s before making the leap to the big screen. The good thing about these early TV to film directors is that they were great at economizing. The bad thing is that not many of them developed much of a cinematic style, Altman and Peckinpah being the exceptions. But there are plenty of films that Pollack directed that deserve multiple viewings. My favorites being Three Days of the Condor, Tootsie and Jeremiah Johnson. (a somewhat knockoff of Altman’s superior McCabe and Mrs. Miller but has its entertaining moments). The Firm isn’t great, but has a contagious urgency to it that makes it seem entertaining. It’s not a bad thriller.

What I’ll really remember Pollack for is for his brilliant, hilarious and touching performance in Husbands and Wives, a very underrated Woody Allen film, that may have gotten the props it deserved (including Oscar nods for both Pollack and Judy Davis) if Allen hadn’t thrown a hump into his step daughter during production.

R.I.P. Sydney Pollack.

The guy can direct. That scene in Munich when the three hunters kill the assassin in revenge for murdering their colleague? That was freaking incredible. But… was the movie incredible? No. It was solid, but in the end, it didn’t feel like it was something that I hadn’t seen before, in one way or another. How about the scene in Saving Private Ryan when Jeremy Davies is cowering on the stairs, when his comrade, Adam Goldberg, is being stabbed to death by a Nazi? How about in Schindler’s List when Ralph Fiennes, after “pardoning” a worker for not being able to clean the stains out of his tub, changes his mind and shoots the worker, simply to make himself feel better? All great scenes filmed by a great director. BUT. I always feel that Spielberg, no matter how intense the subject matter, can’t help himself, and panders too much to his audience. Spielberg is more of an entertainer than anything else. Scorsese may make a Spielberg movie (The Aviator anyone?), but Spielberg, although capable, will never make a Scorsese picture. Even when it seems like he’s going there, he never completely goes there.

I was sixteen when I saw E.T.. There was a drunk dude sitting next to me, his soda cup filled with liquor. At one point he started to cry, whimpering between breaths… “Spielberg, Spielberg”. He may as well have been saying: “Jesus, Jesus… I love you” Spielberg is one of the all time great American filmmakers, I know this. But despite that fact, there are only two films in the fifty something films he’s made in his career that I give multiple viewings to. Those films are Duel and Jaws. And that’s it. Other filmmakers of his caliber and of his generation have made as many films as Spielberg, but I watch they’re movies again and again. Filmmakers like: Scorsese, Coppola, Friedkin, Fosse, Allen, Cassavetes, Polanski, Altman, Ashby, Lynch, Lumet, De Palma. Hell, I even watch more multiple viewings of films that Clint Eastwood has directed, than films that Spielberg has.

Hey Grumpy Guy! What about Schindler’s List, or Saving Private Ryan? What about them? They’re not great movies. Huh? What? The hell you say! Yeah, I said it. They’re big films, with amazing moments in them, but they are not great movies. So now Spielberg has made another Indiana Jones movie, 20 years after the last one he made. I haven’t seen it yet, and I’m probably not going to. What’s the point? Haven’t I already seen it without actually seeing it? Badazz MoFo has a review which I’m sure is completely accurate.

So what if Grumpy Guy was stranded on an island for the rest of his life and could only have ten Spielberg movies to watch? What would those movies be?

1. Duel
2. Jaws
3. Close Encounters of the Third Kind
4. Raiders of the Lost Ark
5. Saving Private Ryan
6. Schindler’s List
7. Minority Report
8. Empire of the Sun
9. War of the Worlds
10. Munich

Which ones would you choose?

Frankenstein: The True Story (1973)
Dir. Jack Smight
Starring: Leonard Whiting, Michael Sarrazin, James Mason, Jane Seymour, David McCallum

The earliest nightmare I remember having was of being chased in the woods by Boris Karloff’s monster from Frankenstein . Karloff has given many film fans nightmares since 1931 with his brilliant performance and the amazing makeup by Jack Pierce. But director James Whale took a lot of liberties with Mary Shelley’s famous book and the Peggy Webling play, leaving the door open for a more faithful cinematic portrayal of the legend. Enter Frankenstein: The True Story, an interesting attempt at filming Shelley’s story, but pedestrian writing and directing undermines the films ambitious intentions.

With Karloff’s monster being so iconic, the producer’s of Frankenstein: The True Story, thought it was necessary to have James Mason, one of the films stars, explain their approach to the story, a clumsy and unintentionally funny start to the movie it doesn’t really recover from, not to mention the fact, that while Mason tries to convince the viewer that they’re in for a hell of a ride, most of the movie’s plot points are given away in the clips they show.

Leonard Whiting is Victor Frankenstein on this outing. Haunted by the drowning of his brother, Victor becomes obsessed with the idea of creating life from death. He tracks down Dr. Clerval (David McCallum) a reclusive, bitter, scientist that has already experimented with reanimating dead tissue. The two join forces and make their first attempt at bringing a dead man back to life. Clerval dies before the experiment can begin, and before he can tell Frankenstein he has discovered a flaw in the process. Unaware of the dangers that await him, Frankenstein proceeds with the experiment, and produces The Creature (Michael Sarrazin).  This creature is the complete opposite of what film fans have come to expect from Frankenstein’s Monster.

This creature is a handsome man, with a mind that is quick at learning. Victor teaches his creation how to behave in society, and soon introduces him to the world as a foriegn prince traveling abroad. The Creature is fascinated with the world he is exposed to, especially with music, or anything that he finds beautiful, the first word he learned. He also has a possessive love for Victor, like a son to a father. Victor teaches his Creature that he is beauty, not only physically, but as a spiritual creation.

The Creature’s beauty doesn’t last however. His looks and mind begin to deteriorate. Victor searches for a cure, but fails, and The Creature gets worse and worse. In an attempt to keep The Creature from discovering what is happening to him, Victor destroys all the mirrors in his flat, and locks The Creature in his room. But he can’t hide his own disgust and contempt for The Creature, the uglier he becomes.  Eventually The Creature discovers the truth about his condition, and horrified at what has happened to him, having been taught that he represents beauty, tries to kill himself in numerous ways, only to discover that his dead ass is already dead.

From this point on, Frankenstein: The True Story, takes on a more familiar plot line, as the creature, having survived the fall off the cliff, befriends a blind man that plays a violin, and later encourages the creation of another monster, this time a woman played by Jane Seymore.

But the film suffers from numerous mistakes in the script. The addition of Dr. Polidori (James Mason), distracts from the relationship between Frankenstein and The Creature. Making matters worse is a less than interesting Victor Frankenstein. This mad scientist is less insane and more of a dumb stooge, constantly being manipulated by everyone around him, including his wife, two other mad scientists, the creature and eventually The Creature’s bride. He’s simply too passive as a main character to hold a 3 hour long movie together. Director Jack Smight (Harper, No Way To Treat a Lady) is competent, but has no style.

Despite its ham fisted TV production values, Frankenstein: The True Story has a few things going for it. There are some shocking moments, the most memorable when The Creature rips the head off of Prima “The Bride” at a gala ball.  Sarrizin’s portrayal of The Creature, although not as frightening or memorable as Karloff’s, is very interesting, and in the hands of a more talented director and larger budget, it may have rivaled his predecessor . As it stands, Sarrizin’s performance is fourth, behind Karloff, Lee and Boyle. (Yes, I consider “Young Frankenstein” as one of the better versions of the story).  Fans of Hammer Horror will enjoy much of the production as make-up artist Roy Ashton had been involved in numerous Hammer films. Overall, unless you’re a big Frankenstein fan, Grumpy Guy can’t recommend the film, it’s too long and meandering. But for those into Hammer (even though it’s not a Hammer production, it feels like one) and those into early seventies trash cinema or obscure horror films, then Frankenstein: The True Story, is worth a look.

The first movie I ever saw John Phillip Law in was The Golden Voyage of Sinbad. Man, did I love me some Sinbad when I was a kid. Law wasn’t a great actor, but was a dynamic screen presence. He didn’t really make a lot of movies, good ones anyway, but a few of them like Diabolik, Barbarella, and Death Rides a Horse, are cult classics.

Cinebeats has the highlights of Law’s career, including some very interesting looking films I had no idea he had made, movies like The Sergeant with Rod Steiger.

R.I.P. Phil.

If… [1968]

Dir. Lindsey Anderson
Starring: Malcolm McDowell, David Wood, Richard Warwick, Christine Noonan

• There’s something indecent about you Travis. The way you slouch about. You think we don’t notice you with your hands in your pockets. The way you just sit there looking at everyone.

I was about fifteen the first time I saw If…. We had just gotten cable and it played in a cycle for several weeks. I couldn’t figure it all out because so much of it was completely absurd. What did it mean when Mick Travis (Malcolm McDowell) and Johnny (David Wood) are handcuffed together as they run through the square? What did it mean when the Head Master pulls out a giant drawer and the Chaplain is inside it? What did it mean when Travis wrestles with The Girl (Christine Noonan) in the café? I couldn’t be sure. But I completely related to the images of youth vs. age, and the defiance of growing older and being assimilated into the “order” of adulthood.

If… takes place in a British college where hierarchy, routine, discipline and rules are what life is made of. The students are being molded as foot soldiers for the system, clones and drones in which to keep the machine and collective running. Some of these students revel in their roles, some simply go along, and others, like Travis, are constantly devising a way out or a way to change or destroy the system.

McDowell is a screen presence that doesn’t have to say anything to impress. His face is at once hideous and handsome, an image director Lindsey Anderson (This Sporting Life) plays with at the beginning of the film. When we first meet Travis, he’s a mystery, his face literally hidden from us with a scarf. When he removes the scarf, a mustache is revealed, forbidden by the school. Travis trims it off, his friend commenting on his bizarre looks, a cinematic moment for both the hero of the film and McDowell.

Johnny:
God you’re ugly. You look evil.

Travis:
My face is a never fading source of wonder to me.

Travis is like an English Holden Caulfield from “Catcher In the Rye”, if not in personality, then as a spirit born to question authority. When being disciplined by Rowntree, the head whip, for their subversive attitude, the “Crusaders” are asked if they have anything to say. The others keep quiet. But Travis doesn’t roll like that.

• The thing I hate about you Rowntree is the way you give coke a cola to your scum and your best “teddy bear” to Oxfand, and expect us to lick your frigid fingers for the rest of your frigid life.

At College House, sexual aggravation abounds, as there are no women, except for the elderly nurse and the Head Master’s wife (who walks around the school naked when no one is around). The girl that Travis and Johnny meet after stealing a motorcycle, seems to be both real and a aberration. In the absence of females, an atmosphere of male prison hierarchy rises, with The Whips having their pick of Juniors (teddy bears) as assistants.

Anderson and cinematographer Miroslav Ondrícek (Amadeus) create a poetic world, some moments in color, others in black and white, while “Travis’s Theme” (what sounds like a South African choir, the congas synchronized with Travis’s free beating heart) plays through out. The third act takes on a surreal atmosphere, funny and horrific, often producing absurd imagery that resembles the work of Richard Lester or Jean Luc Godard. The ending is remarkable and foreshadows the tragedy of “Columbine” by thirty years. Although Anderson’s take on the “Crusader’s” ultimate destructive act is completely insane, it doesn’t dilute or undermine the emotional impact of the scene.

If… is a great coming of age film and great satire. Released around the same time as other great sixties films of rebellion like Bonnie and Clyde, The Graduate, and Easy Rider, but not mentioned enough in the same historical sense. Anderson and McDowell would go on to make two more films featuring the character of Mick Travis, O’ Lucky Man (1973) and Britannia Hospital (1982).

Battle Royale (2000)
Dir. Kinji Fukasaku
“Beat” Takeshi Kitano, Tatsuya Fujiwara, Aki Maeda

Could a movie like Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale be made in America? I doubt it. Especially post 9/11. There were rumors of it being made at one point, but I haven’t heard anything of late. There have been plenty of U.S. horror flicks, exploitation flicks, and violent action flicks after the fall of the towers and the invasion of Iraq, some even addressing the events, but none really condemning violence and war itself. None that I can think of anyway. Is War of the Worlds anti war because it depicts a scene reminiscent of people running as the towers fell? How about the current Cloverfield? An obvious analogy to the events of 9/11. I didn’t see it, and although I read a few objectionable reviews about using 9/11 as a platform for a horror movie, it seemed like most viewers took it for what it was, a monster movie.

What does 9/11 have to do with Battle Royale? Nothing really. It came out in 2000, a full year after the killings at Columbine High and a year before 9/11. I think its what has happened in America after 9/11, where Battle Royal seems to reflect American society. In Fukasaku’s film, during a national crisis in Japan with millions out of work, the government, in a panic, implements the “Battle Royal” act.

• “At the dawn of the millennium, the nation collapsed. At fifteen percent unemployment, ten million were out of work. 800,000 students boycotted school. The adults lost confidence, and fearing the youth, eventually passed the Millennium Educational Reform Act - AKA: The BR Act…”

The BR act involves a game, in which every year an entire class of high-schoolers are shipped to an island and forced to kill each other. The sole survivor of the game gets to live and return home, but only if everyone else is killed. Special collars are fitted on each student. If the rules aren’t followed, the collar explodes, taking their head off. The games apparently are followed by the general public, although they aren’t televised. The winner however, is video tapped on their return.

To many film-goers this premise seemed ridiculous and absurd. But it wasn’t to Fukasaku, who grew up during WWII in Japan, and saw first hand how a civilization can be brought to barbarism. How family and friends can easily turn on each other when the will to survive kicks in and instincts take over. And as far as the BR act being more science fiction than fact, the “Patriot Act” was implemented merely a month after 9/11, giving law enforcement agencies unprecedented powers in the name of “national security”.

What’s amazing about Fukasaku is that he strips all romantic notions about war and violence from his films. That’s something that Americans can’t seem to do. Saving Private Ryan for all its amazing technical achievements, and realistic depictions of battle, still had a sentimental and nostalgic atmosphere to it. I remember seeing the trailer for that film, where they used an image ripped right out of Gone with The Wind where Scarlett O’Hara claims she’ll never go hungry again, with the sunset setting behind her. In the trailer, it’s the image of a soldier just coming over a hill. This is how Hollywood depicts war and violence, with romance.

You won’t find that in Fukasakus films, and it’s the real reason Battle Royale was never released in America, and probably will never be remade here. He addresses the cause of violence head on, the reasons why we kill, the reasons why we kill our own brothers, or send them off to be killed, in a ritualistic attempt to appease the gods, that have forsaken us; blown up the volcano, raised the river, broke the damn and bombed the city.

It’s easy to be fooled by Fukasaku’s B-Movie style into thinking Battle Royale is nothing more than an exploitation flick. Indeed, Fukusaku knows his exploitation, but unlike say Brian DePalma or Tarantino, Fukusaku is sharing first hand experience of the human condition under the most terrifying conditions. He’s seen what humans are capable of doing, much more horrific than anything Michael Myers or Jason or Freddy Kruger could ever hope to achieve or imagine.

So, how come America looks forward to the remakes of “Halloween” and “Dawn of the Dead”, but shuns the genius of Battle Royale ?

It’s hard to look in the mirror sometimes.