Lisa Reviews An Oscar Winner: You Can’t Take It With You (dir by Frank Capra)

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

(With the Oscars scheduled to be awarded on March 4th, I have decided to review at least one Oscar-nominated film a day. These films could be nominees or they could be winners. They could be from this year’s Oscars or they could be a previous year’s nominee! We’ll see how things play out. Today, I take a look at the 1938 best picture winner, You Can’t Take It With You!)

“You can’t take it with you.”

If there’s any one belief that defines the worldview of Martin Vanderhof (Lionel Barrymore), it’s this. It doesn’t matter how much money you make in your life. It doesn’t matter how successful you are at business or anything else. The fact of the matter is that, when your time is up, you won’t be able to take any of that stuff with you. Instead, Grandpa Vanderhof (as he’s called by his large family) believes that the most important thing to do during your lifetime is to make friends and pursue what you’re truly interested in.

Vanderhof has another belief, one that particularly appealed to be me. He has never paid income tax. He doesn’t see the point of giving money to the government when he doesn’t feel that they’ll make good use of it. When an outraged IRS agent (Charles Lane) stops by Vanderhof’s sprawling house and demands that Vanderhof pay his taxes, Vanderhof refuses. When the IRS man argues that the income tax is necessary to pay for the Presidency, the Congress, and the Supreme Court, Vanderhof offers to give him five dollars. “Hell yeah!” I shouted at the TV. With an attitude like that, Vanderhof should have moved down here to Texas. We would have elected him governor.

Grandpa Vanderhof is the head of a large and cheerfully eccentric family, all of whom live together under the same roof. Penny (Spring Byington) writes novels because, years ago, a typewriter was accidentally delivered to the house. Her husband, Paul (Samuel S. Hinds), has a basement full of fireworks. Essie (Ann Miller) loves to dance and spends almost the entire movie twirling from room to room. Her husband, Ed (Dub Taylor), is a xylophone player.

Of course, it’s not just family living in the Vanderhof House. There’s also Potap Kolenkhov (Mischa Auer), a Russian who is “teaching” Essie how to dance. There’s Rheba the maid (Lillian Yarbo) and Donald (Eddie Anderson) the handyman. Actually, the house appears to be open to just about anyone who wants to stay.

And then there’s Penny’s daughter, Alice (Jean Arthur). Alice is the most “normal” member of the family. She has just become engaged to Tony Kirby (James Stewart) and she is still trying to figure out how to introduce Tony’s stuffy parents (Edward Arnold and Mary Forbes) to her eccentric family. What she and Tony don’t know is that Mr. Kirby is currently trying to buy up all the houses that are near a competitor’s factory. Only one homeowner has refused to sell. The name of that homeowner? Martin “Grandpa” Vanderhof.

It all leads, of course, to one chaotic dinner party, one lively night in jail, and a huge fireworks display. It also leads to true love, which is nice. Jimmy Stewart and Jean Arthur are even more adorable here than they were in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington.

Based on a Pulitzer-winning play by George S. Kaufman, You Can’t Take It With You was the second comedy to win the Oscar for Best Picture. The first comedy to win was 1934’s It Happened One Night. It’s probably not coincidence that both of these films were directed by Frank Capra.

Seen today, You Can’t Take It With You seems a bit slight for an Oscar winner. Grandpa Vanerhof is a lovable eccentric. Tony’s father is a stuffy businessman. Hmmm … I wonder whose philosophy is going to be victorious at the end of the movie? Still, predictability aside, it’s a delightfully enjoyable film. While it never quite escape its stage origins, it features wonderful performances from all the usual members of the Capra stock company. James Stewart and Jean Arthur are a charming couple while Lionel Barrymore gives a performance that is so warmly likable that it’s hard to imagine that, just 9 years later, he would be so perfectly cast as the heartless Mr. Potter in It’s A Wonderful Life. Of course, my favorite member of the member was Essie, mostly because I also like to dance from room to room. While it’s hard to justify awarding it Best Picture over The Adventures of Robin Hood and Grand Illusion, You Can’t Take It With You is still a wonderfully fun movie.

It’ll make you smile and laugh. Who can’t appreciate that?

New Orleans Film Review: Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans (dir by Werner Herzog)

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“Do you think fish dream?”

— Terrence McDonagh (Nicolas Cage) in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009)

Happy Mardi Gras!

Since today is not only Fat Tuesday but also rapidly coming to a close, I think it’s time for me to share one final New Orleans film review. Admittedly, though this film takes place and was filmed in New Orleans, it doesn’t feature any Mardi Gras scenes. However, it does feature a lead performance that is perhaps as bizarre as anything that you’re likely to see in the French Quarter tonight. Of course, I’m talking about Werner Herzog’s 2009 film, Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans.

Whenever I mention this movie to anyone, it only takes a few minutes before they get around to saying, “What was the deal with the iguanas?” Everyone remembers the two iguanas who would randomly show up throughout the movie. At one point, they were sitting in a coffee table while Lt. Terrence McDonagh (Nicholas Cage) and Sgt. Stevie Pruit (Val Kilmer) were watching a house across the street. When McDonagh demanded to know why the iguanas were on his coffee table, Pruit replied, “There ain’t no iguanas.” McDonagh looked down at them and grinned. This was followed by several hand-held close-ups of the iguanas, looking around inquisitively while McDonagh kept giving them the side eye.

The iguanas show up a second time, after McDonagh has tricked one gangster into killing another gangster. “Shoot him again,” McDonagh demands, “his soul’s still dancing!” Herzog pans over to show us that, indeed, the man’s soul is still dancing next to his corpse. After the soul gets shot down, an iguana wanders across the floor.

What do the iguanas represent? Some people think that they actually are meant to be hallucinations. As the result of a back injury that he received saving a prisoner during Hurricane Katrina, McDonagh has permanent back problems and this has led to him getting hooked on drugs. The perpetually high McDonagh sees and does a lot of bizarre things over the course of this movie. Perhaps the iguanas are just a part of his addiction.

Myself, I think the iguanas represent the fact that, no matter what McDonagh and anyone else in New Orleans does over the course of the film, the randomness of nature is going win out in the end. After all, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans opens with Katrina, which is perhaps the ultimate example of how helpless modern society is in the face of nature’s whims. The film takes places in neighborhoods that have yet to recover from the flooding. Every corner of the film is full of physical, emotional, and mental debris. McDonagh pops pills and snorts cocaine in an attempt to maintain some semblance of control but ultimately, the iguanas are going to show up regardless of how much control he thinks he has. Just as how Klaus Kinski, at the end of Aguirre, The Wrath Of God, couldn’t keep the monkeys off of his raft, Terrence McDonagh can’t keep the iguanas off of his coffee table.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans apparently started life as a reboot of Abel Ferrara’s 1992 film, Bad Lieutenant. The script (which was credited to William M. Finkelstein) is full of moments that mirror scenes from Ferrara’s film. Once again, the protagonist is a corrupt police lieutenant who spends almost the entire film fucked up on drugs and whose only friend is a prostitute. Again, there’s a disturbing scene in which the lieutenant harasses a young woman in a parking lot. Again, the lieutenant has gambling debts and again, the lieutenant has to solve a horrifying crime.

While promoting his film, Herzog always said that 1) he had never seen Bad Lieutenant and 2) he didn’t even know who Abel Ferrara was. Judging from the way Herzog directs the film, which is the complete opposite of the approach that Ferrara took to similar material, I’m inclined to believe Herzog. Whereas Ferrara’s film was a grim and humorless plunge into the depths of Hell, Herzog takes an almost satirical approach to the story. The running joke throughout Herzog’s film is that the bad lieutenant gets results precisely because he is so thoroughly messed up and incompetent. The final part of Herzog’s film features so many sudden twists and turns that it’s hard not to conclude that Herzog is poking fun at how American crime films always have to wrap everything up within the final fifteen minutes, regardless of how messy or convoluted their plots may be. Whereas Ferrara’s film featured Harvey Keitel naked and bellowing in soul-searing pain, Herzog gives us Nicolas Cage grinning, laughing, and apparently having a ball.

This has got to be one of Nicolas Cage’s wildest performances. He yells. He bulges his eyes. He grins maniacally at the strangest moments. He interrogates a suspect while taking hits off a joint. Because his character has a bad back, Cage moves stiffly, carrying himself almost as if he were a living Golem. McDonagh may have his demons but, at the same time, he also seems to be having a blast every time we see him. Wisely, Herzog also allows the character some quieter moments. When the lieutenant talks about how he used to imagine there was pirate treasure buried in his back yard or when he and an ex-con sit in front of a gigantic fish tank, Cage gets a chance to show that there actually is something going on underneath all of McDonagh’s bluster. This not only one of Cage’s most over the top performances but also one of his best.

Herzog not only gets the best out of Cage but also the best out of New Orleans. He may not make New Orleans look beautiful but he still captures the atmosphere that has made New Orleans one of the most legendary cities in the world. Cage, Herzog, and New Orleans make for a great combination.

The Truth About “The Lie And How We Told It”

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

Ryan C.'s Four Color Apocalypse

Cartoonist Tommi Parrish comes to us from Montreal by way of an Australian upbringing, but their (as a gender non-binary individual, Parrish’s pronouns of choice are “they” and “their”) perspective seems to be a heady blend of the highly singular and the undeniably universal — and if that sounds inherently contradictory, then buckle in for a review that’s going to make your head spin, because the underlying tension between disparate polarities, both personal and artistic, forms the beating thematic heart of their new Fantagraphics-published graphic novel, The Lie And How We Told It, and how you process duality is going to go a long way toward determining your level of enjoyment of/appreciation for this work. In short, if it already sounds like it’s not going to be your cup of tea, then it probably won’t be — but if explorations of who we are vs. who we present ourselves…

View original post 900 more words

Confessions of a TV Addict #6: Justin Wilson “Guar-On-Tees” You’ll Have a Happy Mardi Gras!

Posted on February 13, 2018 by gary loggins

cracked rear viewer

Back in the early 80’s, I lived and worked in Morgan City, Louisiana. It was there I first fell in love with Cajun cuisine, from “dirty rice” and hot boudin sausages to the mouth-watering flavors of Danny’s Fried Chicken (much more authentic than Popeye’s!) and the ginormous pork and beef ribs at Dick’s Rib Shack. It was a taste-bud opening experience!

Around this same time, I discovered Justin Wilson (1914-2001), the down-home Cajun chef whose “Louisiana Cookin'” was broadcast on PBS. Wilson’s relaxed, easy-goin’ style and humorous asides to his audience soon were picked up for broadcast nationwide, turning America on to the deliciousness of Cajun food. Wilson had first made his mark in entertainment as a Cajun storyteller in the 60’s, relating whimsical tales of life in Bayou Country with his exaggerated Cajun accent and catchphrases like “How y’all are?”. His talent as a comical Cajun raconteur landed him…

View original post 282 more words

Scenes that I Love: Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper Do Mardi Gras and Drop Acid in Easy Rider!

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Today, a lot of people have traveled to New Orleans to celebrate Mardi Gras. Here’s hoping that they have a better time in the city than Billy (Dennis Hopper) and Wyatt (Peter Fonda) had in the 1969 film, Easy Rider.

The scenes below, featuring Hopper, Fonda, Karen Black, and the legendary Toni Basil were actually filmed at Mardi Gras in 1968. These were among the first scenes that Hopper (making his directorial debut) shot for the film and reportedly, filming was so chaotic that they were also nearly the last scenes to be filmed. As those who have seen Easy Rider know, Billy and Wyatt spend the entire movie trying to get to New Orleans so that they can visit a famous brothel. Once they get there, they discover that absolutely nothing lives up to the legend. The brothel is a sleazy mess. Mardi Gras is full of bad vibes. Wyatt has an amazingly bad LSD trip. (Hopper convinced Fonda to really drop acid before filming the scene, which led some harrowing footage.) After they leave New Orleans, Fonda and Hopper cross the border into Texas and promptly end up getting blown away by two rednecks in a pickup truck.

Welcome to the sixties!

In the scene below, we get actual footage of 1968’s Mardi Gras. Just watch all the celebrants who stop to stare at the camera.

And here is the infamous cemetery scene. Fonda resisted doing it and the end result is not easy to watch but it’s also one of the most powerful moments in the entire film:

Artwork of the Day: Romantic Story

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Dazzling Erin

Film Review: Mean Johnny Barrows (dir by Fred Williamson)

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“Dedicated to the veteran who traded his place on the front line for a place on the unemployment line. Peace is Hell.”

— the end credits of Mean Johnny Barrows (1976)

“He’s not that mean.”

— Me, while watch Mean Johnny Barrows

Who is Johnny Barrows? As played by blaxploitation star Fred Williamson, Johnny Barrows is a former football great who later served in Vietnam and won several silver stars. As a soldier, he killed an untold number of people but he is always quick to explain that he wouldn’t do the same thing as a civilian. Even after the war ended, Johnny remained in the army, teaching new recruits. He was good at his job but, one day, a racist officer decided to play a stupid trick on Johnny. During a training exercise, that officer put a live landmine out on the training grounds. After defusing the mine, Johnny promptly punched the officer. The result? A dishonorable discharge and the lesson that peace is Hell.

Johnny returns to Los Angeles and discovers that the country he fought for isn’t willing to fight for him. Because of his dishonorable discharge, Johnny can’t find a good job. Because he can’t find a job, he can’t afford a place to live. Johnny stays on the streets. His only friend is a self-described philosophy professor (Elliott Gould, in an amusing cameo) who teaches Johnny all about soup kitchens.

When Johnny steps into an Italian restaurant and asks for food, he is shocked to discover that the owner, Mario Racconi (Stuart Whitman), knows who he is. Mario says that he played against Johnny in a high school football game. (Perhaps Johnny’s shock is due to the fact that Mario appears to be at least ten years older than him.) Mario gives Johnny something to eat and even offers him a job. Realizing that the work is mob-related, Johnny says that he’s not interested. He’s not going to break the law…

And here’s where we run into a problem with the film’s title. The film is entitled Mean Johnny Barrows but, so far, he’s been almost painfully nice. Then again, Mild Johnny Barrows doesn’t have much of a ring to it.

Anyway, Johnny does try to stay out of trouble. He even manages to land a demeaning job cleaning the toilets at a gas station. But his boss (R.G. Armstrong) is a real jerk and Johnny has his dignity, no matter how much the world wants to take it away from him. Finally, Johnny agrees to work with the Racconi Family. Not only does he become friends with Mario but he also falls for Mario’s girlfriend, Nancy (Jenny Sherman).

Unfortunately, not all Mafia families are as kind-hearted and generous as the Racconi Family. The Da Vinci family wants to flood Los Angles with drugs. It’s all the master plan of Tony Da Vinci (Roddy McDowall). Tony is eager to prove himself to his father and what better way to do that than to smuggle heroin? Tony also loves flowers because … well, why not? Anyway, when the Racconis object to Tony’s scheme, a mob war erupts. Nearly all of the Racconis are killed. It looks like it’s time for Johnny Barrows to put on his white suit, pick up a gun, and get vengeance for his surrogate family.

There are some pretty obvious problems with Mean Johnny Barrows, not the least of which is the casting of Roddy McDowall — perhaps the least Italian actor in the history of cinema — as a ruthless mafioso. After having starred in several successful blaxploitation films, Fred Williamson made his directorial debut with Mean Johnny Barrows. Williamson’s inexperience as director shines through almost every minute of Mean Johnny Barrows. Though he does well with the action scenes, there are other parts of the film where Williamson doesn’t even seem to be sure where he should point the camera. With almost every role miscast, the performances are pretty inconsistent but Williamson gives a good performance (it’s obvious that he understood his strengths and weaknesses as an actor) and Elliott Gould is an entertaining oddity as the Professor.

If anything saves the film, it’s that Williamson’s anger at the way America treats its veterans feels sincere. The heart of the film is in the first half, which details Johnny’s struggle to simply survive from one day to the next. Even if Williamson’s direction is often shaky, the film’s rage is so authentic that you do get caught up in Johnny’s story. The film ends on a properly down note, suggesting that, for men like Johnny Barrows, there is no hope to be found in America.

To quote the film’s theme song: Peace is Hell.

Music Video of the Day: Mardi Gras by Gita (2013, dir by Yonni Lapin)

Posted on February 13, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can hear you already.

But Lisa, just because the song is called Mardi Gras that doesn’t mean that it’s about our Mardi Gras…

Okay, you got a point. But here’s my point: today is Mardi Gras. And this song is called Mardi Gras. And I like it. It’s a fun song to listen to while you’re stuck in traffic.

Besides, if you’re complaining about stuff like that today that means that you’re totally missing the point of Mardi Gras.

Enjoy!

An Olympic Film Review: Downhill Racer (dir by Michael Ritchie)

Posted on February 12, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

For the past few days, like all good people, I have been totally obsessed with the Winter Olympics! Last week, I asked my friends to suggest some Winter Olympic-themed movies that I could watch and review. More than a few of them immediately recommended that I check out a film called Downhill Racer.

First released in 1969, Downhill Racer tells the story of David Chappellet (a very young and very handsome Robert Redford). When we first meet David, he’s just arrived in Switzerland. An alternate to the U.S. ski team, David has been summoned by Coach Eugene Claire (Gene Hackman) to replace an injured skier. From the minute that David arrives, it’s obvious that he’s not interested in being anyone’s friend. He’s upset that he was an alternate. He’s upset that he’s going to be skiing so late in the competition. He’s upset about … well, almost everything. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he’s a loner and he rarely has much to say. He cares about one thing: winning championships and being recognized as the best. David is not a particularly likable character. However, the fact that he doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks about him is one of the things that makes him compelling. Add to that, David quickly proves himself to be one of the best. He may be arrogant but, more often than not, he can back up his pride.

Why is David so driven? We get some clues when David returns to his hometown in Idaho. Even though everyone in the town knows him and he doesn’t have any trouble convincing a former girlfriend to go off with him, David still seems out-of-place. When he visits his father, the taciturn man is not impressed by David’s success. As his father puts it, the world is full of champions. Why should David deserve any more praise than anyone else?

Standing in contrast to the reservered David is Coach Claire. Whereas David is reserved, Claire is passionate. Whereas David is an unapologetic loner, Claire is willing to fight for every member of his team. Whereas David reacts to a crash by refusing to accept that he made a mistake, Coach Claire is always brutally honest. David couldn’t be a champion without Claire’s help but, in the end, the Coach is destined to remain in the background while David signs lucrative sponsorship deals and becomes a hero to television viewers everywhere.

It’s a familiar story, though perhaps it wasn’t as familiar in 1969 as it is today. Today, we’ve grown accustomed to the idea that celebrities can be jerks and that “heroes” are often just manufactured idols. (Downhill Racer has a good deal of fun with the shallowness of the media’s coverage of David Chappellett’s career.) That said, familiar or not, there’s a good deal of authenticity to be found in the performances of both Redford and Hackman. It takes a bit of courage to play a character who is as narcissistic and arrogant as David Chappellett but, even more so, it takes talent to make that character compelling. As for Hackman, he’s the ideal coach. He knows both how to get the best out of Chappellett but also when to call him out on his crap. From the minute we meet the Coach, we knows that he cares but we also know that he’s seen a lot of David Chappelletts come and go over the years.

Of course, the main reason to watch Downhill Racer is because of the racing scenes, many of which were filmed as a point-of-view shot, putting you in the skis as the frozen landscape flies past you. They are amazing to watch. I’ve never been skiing, which is probably a good thing when you consider that I’m a bit accident-prone. But the skiing sequences in Downhill Racer left me breathless, shaken, and exhilarated.

Downhill Racer is definitely one to watch, during the Olympics or any other time.

Lisa Reviews An Oscar Nominee: Dodsworth (dir by William Wyler)

Posted on February 12, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Dodsworth is the type of film that makes me thankful for both TCM and my own obsession with Oscar history.

Based on a Sidney Howard-penned stage adaptation of a Sinclair Lewis novel, Dodsworth tells the story of an American couple abroad and how their travels change them as both individuals and as a couple. Sam Dodsworth (Walter Huston) is a wealthy man living in the middle of the United States. 20 years ago, he founded Dodsworth Motors and now, he’s finally reached the point where he can sell his company and retire. Sam doesn’t have any big plans, not yet anyway. Mostly, he just wants to visit Europe with his wife, Fran (Ruth Chatterton). They’ve never been.

Walter Huston is perfectly cast as Sam Dodsworth. When we first meet Sam, we’re not really sure whether we’re going to like him or not. He seems to be a decent human being but he also seems to be rather resistant to change. He’s a self-made man. He’s smart but he’s not well-educated. He’s honest but he’s stubborn. He’s rich but he’s hardly sophisticated. He says that he wants to experience new things but we can’t help but wonder how he’s going to react when he actually has the opportunity.

The cracks in Sam and Fran’s marriage become obvious as soon as they board a luxury liner heading for England. Sam meets another traveler, Edith (Mary Astor). Edith is divorced and lives in Italy, two things that make her very exotic to a proud product of middle America like Sam Dodsworth. Edith and Sam immediately hit it off but there’s no way that Sam would ever consider having an affair. Meanwhile, Fran finds herself attracted to a series of different Europeans, played by David Niven, Paul Lukas, and Gregory Gaye. While Fran loves Europe, Sam finds himself yearning to return to the small town world that he knows best.

For a film that was released 82 years ago, Dodsworth remains a remarkably watchable and involving film. Along with featuring brilliant lead performances from Walter Huston, Ruth Chatterton, and Mary Astor, Dodsworth touches on universal themes that remains as relevant as today as when the film was first released. Though neither Sam nor Fran would probably recognize the term, their trip to Europe leads to an existential crisis that will be familiar to anyone who has ever looked at their life and wondered, “Is this all there is?” At the start of the film, both characters believe that they’ve found perfection in their marriage, their family, and their money. By the end of the movie, both of them realize just how wrong they were.

If not for my love of Oscar history, I never would have seen Dodsworth listed among the films nominated for best picture of 1936. And, if not for TCM, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to DVR Dodsworth this morning and then watch it earlier tonight. That’s why it pays to know your history and to take chances on films of which you previously may not have heard.

Dodsworth was nominated for 7 Academy Awards but it only won the Oscar for Best Art Direction. It lost Best Picture to a far less memorable film, The Great Ziegfield.