H&M At Celluloid Moon

Heck, even I didn't think I'd actually make good on my promise to get back to the Film Education Project I referred to in my earlier post, but despite delaying again for a week after watching the film, I jotted down some notes on HAROLD and MAUDE, which you can read over at Celluloid Moon.

Long story short: I loved it, and see why it holds up as a cult classic and favorite for a lot of people.

A lot of older people.

No kidding.  My mother was ecstatic when I told her I was watching it.  When I went to the store to pick it up, I needed some assistance finding it (apparently they classified it as a drama as opposed to a comedy.  Make of that what you will: it is definitely NOT a drama), and as I talked to the employee about it, we were overheard by a woman in her 60s who squealed with delight that I was getting exposed to HAROLD AND MAUDE.

Well, mysterious old lady who was there shopping for video for her granddaughter - if you're reading this, grab a hold of your knickers and cheer, 'cause liked it I did.

And, not knowing why I wrote the preceding sentence that way, I'm off to see film #2 in my Hal Ashby marathon, BOUND FOR GLORY.

Harold and Maude (1971)

 

The film opens with the camera following a pair of feet, slowly but deliberately moving down a flight of stairs.  We follow the feet to a record player, the camera slowly showing us more of this character as a Cat Stevens record in put on the turntable.  We're up to the waist, which is enough to see the expensive watch and rings the gentleman is wearing, and that the room is covered in the wood that denotes money, old money, inherited money.  Cat Stevens plays on as the body, now visible save for the head, moves to a table where he writes a note and delicately pins it to the lapel of his expensive suit.  His slender, delicate hands move for a match, striking it against the crystal case. 

Arms outstretched, his hands light a candle, and it's only as the hand moves back and he blows out the match that we see his face: young, refined, half covered and back lit, providing an almost ghostly visage before the camera retreats back to his feet, which move back across the floor, jumping up to a small step stool.  The music crescendos and abruptly ends as the feet step off, swinging in a dead man's dance as, directly below, the words "Directed by Hal Ashby" appear.

What a credit sequence.  And for a comedy, no less.

Utterly failing in its initial box office run, HAROLD AND MAUDE has become a cult classic; a black, morbid comedy whose situations feel more at home now than it did when it was release over 35 years ago.  Even though I had seen THE LAST DETAIL years before, this feels like my "true" introduction to Hal Ashby.  The basic story, despite its somewhat unique concept of a young, 20ish something boy falling in love with an 80 year old woman, is pretty standard stuff for a film coming out during the horrors of a post-Woodstock, Vietnam War: reject the Establishment, the military is a joke, live free easy, blah blah blah...  In truth, there's not a lot you can't figure out 20 minutes into the film.

So what makes it so special?  A large part of it is the perfect casting and top-notch performance of Bud Cort and Ruth Gordon as the titular couple.  A lot of the praise over the years has been showered on Gordon as the vivacious hippie/flapper/guru Maude, but watching the film I feel like she had the easier role of the two.  Bud Cort had to be very careful - it's clear that, although he is much younger than Maude, he's by no means a child: a hard trick to pull of with such a youthful face.  Luckily he's got a great, mature voice that balances things out, and his slow discovery of love and living, even in the midst of killing himself time and time again, is captured beautifully.

None of that would have worked, however, with Ashby's eye and fresh visual take.  Wrapping the obvious message in a visually arresting, genuinely funny film (all to the great soundtrack by Cat Stevens), Ashby brings an astute eye to the scenes, using longer takes and a very naturalistic shooting style that still manages to feel very filmic (if that's even a word - I don't want to give the impression that this in any way feels like a documentary). 

Harold's "suicides" are a perfect example of the type of look Ashby brings to HAROLD AND MAUDE.  Each is graphic, sudden and explosive, cut a second later by the humor of the situation.  The first time I saw a still of the bathroom scene, where Harold's mock suicide involves slashed wrists and more blood than your average horror movie, I had no idea what I was seeing, let alone how effective it would be by his mother's pronouncement seconds after walking in on the scene.  Likewise with his final attempt in front of a potential date set up by his mother - he demonstrates hari kiri, stabbing himself in the stomach and falling to the floor, blood spilling everywhere.  His date, not in on the joke, still thinks it's an act (she's an actress) and proceeds to mimic his death throes perfectly. Hilarious.

You may know where you're going with HAROLD AND MAUDE, but it's the ride getting there that makes it such a fun and embracing film.  As a kickoff to the work of Ashby it's a great starting place, and I'm looking forward to what's on deck, the Woody Guthrie biopic BOUND FOR GLORY, a film of a different make altogether.

Transformers: ROTF (2009)

Before my brain turned to tapioca pudding during the 2 1/2 hour visual onslaught that is Michael Bay's TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN, I managed to learn or confirm the following tidbits:

  1. Giants robots fighting each other = Awesome
  2. Everything else = not so much

There's been a lot of talk that REVENGE OF THE FALLEN was conceived and plotted out during the Writer's Strike, which makes a lot of sense when you try to follow what little story there is. Apparently the Transformers (as they're called in the movie - which sounds really awkward when you hear it come out of people's mouths) have been on Earth before, and they built a machine that generates their Energon cubes by blowing up the Sun. An old, evil Decepticon known as the Fallen wants to do just that so he can repopulate the Decepticon Race. The problem is, he needs the information in Sam Witwicky's head, which got there because a shard from the Allspark was stuck in his jacket and he touched it and...and...and...

Forget it. I'm already confused and I only saw the movie an hour ago. Shia LaBeouf and Megan Fox return as the only humans who know what's going on, and although they both sell the story as best they can, it's incredibly distracting because Bay can't film them without rotating the camera around like it's a Aerosmith video. It's a shame - LaBeouf's got charm to spare in everything he does, and Megan Fox gives the impression of having more than just the body of a goddess to sell as an actress, but that's not the kind of thing Bay's interested in. He just wants explosions, and unlike the first film, which did (I think) a fairly good job at balancing the human drama with the technological overkill, this time his human cast members are relegated to being damsels in distress for the machines or convenient plot exposition to rescue.

So if that were the only problem, things would be fine. I mean, stuff DOES blow up real good, and when you can understand the fighting (like the incredible fight scene in a forest), it's, well... breathtaking. But apparently Bay and his cadre of writers wanted to be sure they injected enough sophomoric humor that everyone's IQ would diminish just a little bit more. It was hard enough to swallow Jazz's break dance move from the first movie - here we have, among other offenders in poor taste:

  1. A tiny, Joe Pesci robot that humps legs
  2. An evil appliance transformer that shoots bullets out of an erect phallus equal in size to his height
  3. Two good robots who are either in black face or doing a really bad ghetto stereotype
  4. A robot with massive testicles, and finally...
  5. Multiple robots farting

All this being said, I can't find it in my heart to work up the vitriol for TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN other reviewers have expressed. Yes, it's extremely stupid, a lot of it's in bad taste, and the story/script is barer than Megan Fox's mid-drift. But none of it seems to have been done with any forethought of malice, and like I said, them robots blow things up REAL GOOD.

Make of that what you will. And now, because I can...

Book #22: The Spiders of Allah

From the cover and various descriptions it's easy to see why Spiders of Allah is being touted as "Gonzo Journalism" in the vein of Hunter S. Thompson. But the book, written by James Hider, is a different sort of beast altogether. Focusing less on the author's atheism and more on the fanaticism of the various battles in the Middle east, what Spiders of Allah provides is an insightful look at how belief can be twisted into evil, and how non-belief makes it so impossible to understand. As a Christian who DOES happen to believe, I'm always fascinated by well-written books from a different viewpoint, and Hider, who's had plenty of experience as the Middle East Bureau Chief for the Times UK, makes for a very interesting narrator.

This is a fine book that opts for travelogue more than straight reporting, and it's the better for it.

"Now THAT'S an Explosion!"

Yeah, so, uh, despite some misgivings I went and saw TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN. I wrote about it over at Celluloid Moon. Here's a brief excerpt that pretty well sums up the experience:

Before my brain turned to tapioca pudding during the 2 1/2 hour visual onslaught that is Michael Bay's TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN, I managed to learn or confirm the following tidbits:

  1. Giants robots fighting each other = Awesome
  2. Everything else = not so much

There's (obviously) more to it than that, and you can read about it by clicking here.

Warning: Yes, there IS a gratuitous pic of Megan Fox in my review.  My Y chromosome mandated it.  Sorry.