With this video, DJ Snake pays tribute to his Algerian roots. The song is named after an Algerian record label.
Enjoy!
With this video, DJ Snake pays tribute to his Algerian roots. The song is named after an Algerian record label.
Enjoy!
Let’s check out the butcher’s bill for this week:
Allo Allo (Sunday Night, PBS)
Having returned from England, Rene was named the editor of the town newspaper. He was expected to just publish propaganda. Michelle was excited to have access to a printing press. The latest plan to get the Airmen back to Britain is to make a raft out of telephone poles. We’ll see how that goes.
Barry (Sunday Night, HBO)
Between Fuches somehow surviving getting shot at point blank range, Vanessa Bayer making silly noises as she explained what she thought Sally could bring to a show about Medusa living in SoHo, and that amazingly highway dirt bike chase, this week’s episode of Barry was one of the best overall episodes of the year so far. Who would have thought Bill Hader would be so good at directing action?
Creepshow (Shudder)
I finished up season 3 of Creepshow this week. What a wonderfully macabre show! It’s just as ghoulish as American Horror Story without being so annoying self-impressed.
Full House (Sunday Evening, MeTV)
Much like Rene on Allo Allo, DJ become editor of the school newspaper! Kimmie Gibbler wanted to report on sports. It led to a big fight but things worked out in the end. Meanwhile, Joey tried to direct a commercial with Danny and Rebecca. It led to a big fight but things worked out in the end. Did I already say that? Anyway, it was indeed a very full house.
Maid (Netflix)
At ten episodes, this miniseries was a bit on the long side but it was still a very good show. Margaret Qualley played an aspiring writer who, having left her abusive husband, finds work as a maid while trying to move forward with her life and her daughter. Qualley gave a great performance in the lead role and the show dealt with serious issues without ever descending into melodrama.
Norm McDonald: Nothing Special (Netflix)
In his final comedy special, Norm McDonald talked about …. well, he actually spent a lot of time talking about death. He was undeniably funny, an older comedian who could talk about how the world was changing without coming across as being either mean-spirited or performatively woke. What was interesting about this special (which was recorded in his home studio, in one take) was watching how McDonald would seemingly just stumble from point to point while still always bringing everything together in the end in a way that revealed the fierce intelligence that hid beneath the “average guy who likes to drink beer” persona. At first, I thought he was just rambling but then I noticed that he kept returning to his love of the color yellow.
The final 30 minutes of the special were made up of David Letterman, Conan O’Brien, Molly Shannon, Dave Chapelle, Adam Sandler, and David Spade talking about Norm and his special. The roundtable was mostly interesting just for the obvious the affection that everyone involved had for Norm McDonald. It was sweet to witness.
Pistol (Hulu)
I really enjoyed Danny Boyle’s six-episode miniseries about The Sex Pistols and, needless to say, I related to Sidney Chandler’s Chryssie Hynde. I have no doubt that the miniseries offers a bit of a romanticized view of how things went down (that’s kind of Boyle’s thing) but it was well-acted, well-shot, and compulsively watchable. The first four episode were the strongest. The final two got a bit bogged down with Sid’s heroin addiction but the same can be probably be said of the band itself. All in all, though, this was a good and respectful miniseries. I know that Johnny Rotten is not a huge fan of the show and I can kind of understand why because, as I said earlier, it does tend to romanticize things. But, as played by Anson Boon, Johnny is always one of the most compelling characters in the show.
Saved By The Bell (Peacock)
I watched the second and final season of Peacock’s Saved By The Bell revival on Friday. This was actually a really good and clever comedy and it’s kind of a shame that it didn’t last longer. Mario Lopez and Elizabeth Berkley Lauren were both a lot of fun to watch as they not only parodied their SBTB past but, at the same time, managed to make Jessie and Slater into actual human beings. It was nicely done.
BEAT VALLEY!
We Own This City (Monday Night, HBO)
The finale of We Own This City aired on Monday. As I watched the first half of the finale, I came dangerously close to writing the show off as just being an example of how heavy-handed David Simon can be when he doesn’t have an equally strong collaborator to work with. However, I stuck with it and I’m glad I did. The final 30 minutes, in which we watched the crooked cops get sentenced to prison while also learning that it all ultimately made no difference as far as Baltimore’s culture of corruption was concerned, were undeniably powerful. The final flashback, to Jon Bernthal pumping up the cops about doing their job, was sad because it represented the failure of the cops to live up to their oath but it was also frightening because it perfectly captured the “warrior cop” mentality.
I have to give special mention to Jamie Hector, playing an otherwise honest homicide detective who was driven to suicide by the possibility of losing his job because he was on the periphery of corruption. It took me a few episodes to get used to Hector (best-remembered as psycho drug lord Marlo Stanfield on The Wire) in a sympathetic role but he truly delivered an outstanding performance in the final episode.
What is the best way to deal with the grief of losing a family member?
That is the question asked by The Sky Is Everywhere, the latest film from Josephine Decker. The film’s answer seems to be that the first step is to have a quirky grandma who paints and a stoner uncle who is somewhat inevitably played by Jason Segel and to live in a big, rambling house that, in the real world, you probably wouldn’t be able to afford to keep up. The second step is to be a member of the band at one of those weird high schools where everyone loves the band kids as opposed to finding them to be insufferably pretentious. The third step is to have a chance to win admission to Julliard but only if you can play through your grief. Finally, find yourself a bland and non-threatening love interest who is supposed to be a musical prodigy. If you can complete those four steps, you might just make it!
The Sky Is Everywhere, which is based on a YA novel that I have not read, stars Grace Kaufman as Lennie Walker, who was extremely close to her sister, Bailey (played, in flashbacks and fantasy sequences, by Havana Rose Liu). At one point, Lennie explains that she always felt like she was “a show pony” whenever she was next to her sister and that she never really had any identity outside of being Bailey’s supportive sister. But then Bailey dropped dead while at rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet so Lennie has to find her own identity and decide whether to date the aforementioned bland musician, Joe Fontaine (played by Jacques Coliman), or Bailey’s ex-boyfriend, Toby (Pico Alexander). Lennie’s real name, by the way, is Lennon and I assume she’s named after John Lennon because that’s just the type of film that The Sky Is Everywhere Is. What if Lennie’s parents had been fans of the Starlight Vocal Band and decided to name her Taffy? Would she still be the first chair clarinetist? It’s something to think about.
(Also, who was Bailey named after? I’m going to guess Connecticut political boss John Bailey.)
Grandma Walker (played by Cherry Jones) is a painter who keeps insisting that it’s time to pack up Bailey’s things. Grandma also has a gigantic garden, one that is full of roses. When Lennie and Joe listen to music together, they’re suddenly floating through the air and surrounded by Grandma’s flowers. When it comes time for Grandma to finally express her grief over losing Bailey, she does so by destroying the least favorite of her paintings. “Not my best work,” as Grandma puts it. But, to be honest, all of Grandma’s paintings suck so I have to wonder how she managed to narrow down her least favorite painting to just one. Does Grandma make her living as a painter? I guess so, since Jason Segel’s Uncle Big doesn’t really do much other than smoke weed and pick bugs off his windshield.
Anyway, I suppose this film was made with good intentions but it’s just too overwritten, overdirected, and overly quirky. For a film that deals with grief, there’s really not a single authentic moment to be found in the film. A huge part of the problem is that, though we always hear everyone talking about Bailey, we never really know who Bailey was. The same is true of Lennie, who is on-screen all of the time but who always just seems like a collection of YA quirks. She reads Wuthering Heights (presumably because she and Bailey are meant to be like the Bronte sisters). She plays the clarinet. She likes to walk among the redwoods and she writes messages on leaves. These are all legitimate interests but they’re not a personality. They’re not an identity. It’s hard not to compare this film to something like CODA, where Ruby’s love of singing and her love for her family were all a big part of her life but they weren’t the only things that defined who she was as a person. Ruby was an individual, which is something that really can’t be said for any of the characters in The Sky Is Everywhere. Since none of the characters feel real, there’s no emotional authenticity to any of the big moments. Instead, it just feels like we’re watching people who learned how to talk and act by watching other YA adaptations.
The Sky Is Everywhere tries so I guess it deserves a half-star for that. But, in the end, it doesn’t add up too much.
98 years ago today, director Herk Harvey was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Today, Harvey is best-remembered for his only feature film, 1962’s Carnival of Souls. Carnival of Souls is a Halloween favorite here at the Shattered Lens and it’s a film that has been cited as being an influence on everyone from Sam Raimi to Martin Scorsese to David Lynch.
However, before and after he directed that ground-breaking film, Herk Harvey made his lesson directing educational short films. Today, in honor of what would have been his birthday, the Shattered Lens presents Why Study Speech? This 1954 short film explains why all high school seniors should study speech when they get to college. It opens with a somewhat quirky montage that, if nothing else, serves to remind us that we’re watching a short film from the man who, just 8 years later, would direct Carnival of Souls.
And now …. WHY STUDY SPEECH?
Jack: “I love you. Do you love me?”
Nora: “I’ll have to think about it.”
OUCH! That had to hurt, though I’m totally on Nora’s side here. Jack is coming on way too strong. I mean, they were having a perfectly pleasant time and then suddenly Jack has to bring “love” into it all. They’ve only been dating a few weeks!
Jack and Nora are the two “teenagers” at the heart of How Do You Know It’s Love?, an educational film from 1950. After Nora’s mother informs her that she’s too young and immature to understand anything about love and after Jack’s brother taunts him for falling in love with a new girl every week, Jack and Nora decide to go on a double date so that they can see what mature love is all about. The main message of the film is that one shouldn’t mistake attraction for love and that teenagers should date a lot of people before settling down. It’s not a bad message but it’s one that will probably be missed by many viewers due to the fact that Jack and Nora are both kind of goofy.
Believe it or not, this film was not directed by Herk Harvey. Instead, this one of the 33 educational films that former journalist Ted Peshak directed in the 1950s for Coronet films. Though Peshak made a lot of films for Coronet, he was never paid more than $190 a week and, perhaps understandably, he abandoned the educational film game in the 60s and instead went to work in real estate. I don’t blame him.
Anyway, here’s the film. Watch and ask yourself the big questions.
Here’s a few things you should know about me.
I don’t believe in ghosts.
I don’t believe in aliens.
I don’t believe in reincarnation.
I don’t believe in manifesting events and I sure as heck don’t believe in the power of Twitter prayer circles.
I do believe that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone.
That makes me a bit of a rarity in our conspiracy-crazed culture but, to me, the idea of one loser killing the most powerful man in the world makes more sense than the idea of some gigantic, complex conspiracy coming together and developing a needlessly complicated plot to kill someone who they could have just as easily blackmailed or circumvented through other methods.
That said, just because I don’t believe in conspiracy theories doesn’t mean that I don’t find them to be oddly fascinating. Take, for instance, the 1977 conspiracy tome, The Assassination Chain.
Written by Sybil Leek and Bert R. Sugar, The Assassination Chain takes a look at the theories surrounding the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Each major theory — from Oswald acting alone to accusations against the CIA, the FBI, the Mafia, Castro, the anti-Castroites, the military-industrial complex, and various right-wing oilmen — is given its own separate chapter. With the exception of the official story, each theory is given respectful consideration. After detailing the JFK theories, The Assassination Chain features chapters about the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr, and Robert F. Kennedy. It even takes a look at the attempted assassination of George Wallace and suggests that both Sirhan Sirhan and Arthur Bremer were brainwashed by people who were concerned that either RFK or Wallace could keep Nixon out of the White house.
And, in conclusion, the book suggest that the guilty party was …. EVERYONE! Everyone from the CIA to the FBI to the Mafia to the Pentagon to the richest men in Texas came together in a gigantic plot to not only kill JFK but to also to kill Rev. King, RFK, and Wallace. (I think this might be the only book to suggest that MLK and George Wallace had the same enemies.) Who could stand at the controls of such a plot? Almost as an afterthought, the book accuses Howard Hughes, the famously eccentric billionaire who was later played by Leonardo DiCaprio in The Aviator.
The book’s conclusions aren’t particularly convincing but they do provide an interesting insight into the conspiracy mindset, which states that the only evidence that matters is the evidence that supports the conclusion that you’ve already reached. There’s actually far more evidence to suggest that Oswald acted alone than there is to suggest that the CIA would risk its existence by assassinating the President as opposed to just threatening to leak the details of the President’s extramarital affairs to the press. But it’s comforting to assume that the world’s events are the result of a conspiracy as opposed to just the act of one loser who was upset because his wife left him. Conspiracies provide a way to understand the whims of fate. There’s a comfort in believing that everything happens as a part of a deliberate chain as opposed to just being random events.
The thing is, though, The Assassination Chain makes for an interesting read. Regardless of whether you buy the conspiracy angle or not, it’s always interesting to explore the darker corners of the 60s and early 70s. One reason why the JFK assassination conspiracy theories are so fascinating is because they all involve shady and downright weird characters, like alcoholic ex-FBI agent Guy Bannister and his partner, a hairless pilot and amateur cancer researcher named David Ferrie. The Assassination Chain provides a tour through the fringes of the 60s and introduces to many of the characters who were made their home in those fringes. The book’s final chapter is a detailed Who’s Who of everyone who, up to that point, had been caught up in the assassinations and the theories that followed and it’s an interesting collection of eccentrics, wannabe spies, and mentally unstable blowhards.
The worn and beat-up copy of this book that I read was obviously an old library book. It reeked of cigarette smoke and, as I leafed through the book last week, I found myself imagining the previous owner, chainsmoking while trying to understand the chaotic and random nature of the world. Whomever that person was, I hope they found some sort of answer.
1973’s Breezy tells the story of two seemingly different people.
Breezy (Kay Lenz) is a teenage girl who moves to California after she graduates high school. Breezy is intelligent and free-spirited. She’s also practically homeless, moving from bed to bed and never getting tied down to anyone. Many people assume that Breezy is a runaway but her parents died a long time ago and her aunt approves of Breezy pursuing her own happiness. Many people also assume that Breezy is a hippie but Breezy doesn’t consider herself to be one and doesn’t even smoke weed. She may hang out with hippies and runaways but, for the most part, Breezy just wants to be herself, free of all of society’s labels and hang-ups.
Frank Harmon (William Holden) is a fifty-something real estate agent. He drives a nice car. He owns a lovely home. He has money but he’s also freshly divorced and obviously in love with his best friend, Betty (Marj Dusay). Most people would consider Frank to be a part of the establishment, though it soon becomes clear that he’s as disillusioned as any long-haired protestor. Frank has reached the point of his life where he looks at everything that he has and he asks, “Is this all there is?”
Together …. they solve crimes!
No, actually, they fall in love. Breezy ends up outside of Frank’s house after escaping a creepy man who had earlier offered her a ride. When she sees that Frank is getting into his car and driving into the city, she decides that Frank can give her a ride too. She also decides to keep hanging out near Frank’s house. Though Frank is initially annoyed by Breezy’s presumptuousness, he still allows her to spend the night when a sudden storm comes up. Frank and Breezy become unlikely friends and eventually, even more. But Frank continues to worry about the difference in their ages, especially when his friends find out that Breezy is living with him.
Really, Breezy is a film that should not work and it does run the risk of turning into a typical midlife crisis fantasy, with Breezy having no concerns beyond keeping Frank happy. That the film does work is largely a testament to the performances of William Holden and Kay Lenz and the sensitive and nonexploitive direction of Clint Eastwood. When screenwriter Jo Heims first wrote the script for Breezy, she envisioned Eastwood in the role of Frank. Reading the script, Eastwood said that he could relate to Frank’s disillusionment but that he felt he was too young for the role. Instead, Eastwood directed the film and he cast William Holden as Frank. Breezy was Eastwood’s third film as a director and the first in which he didn’t star. It was also nobody’s idea of what a Clint Eastwood film would be and it struggled at the box office. That said, it’s a film that has a legion of devoted fans. Paul Thomas Anderson is one of those fans and even worked a few references to the film into Licorice Pizza.
Holden and Lenz both give excellent performances, with Lenz playing Breezy as being free-spirited but not foolish. Holden, meanwhile, captures Frank’s boredom without giving a boring performance. (It helped that, while Holden was the right age of the role, he still retained enough of his good looks and his movie star swagger that it was believable that Breezy would find him attractive.) Wisely, the film doesn’t make the mistake of idealizing either Frank or Breezy. They’re both complex characters, with their own individual flaws and strengths. At the end of the film, one can be forgiven for having doubts about whether or not they’ll still be together in a year or two but one does definitely wish them the best, no matter what happens.
Though politically conservative, Breezy reveals that Clint Eastwood had some sympathy for the counter-culture. Eastwood has always straddled the line between being a member of establishment and being a rebel. Like Breezy and Frank, he belongs to both worlds.
The 1979 film, Escape from Alcatraz, opens with Clint Eastwood and a group of policeman taking a barge across San Francisco Bay, heading towards Alcatraz Island. As any fan of Eastwood’s 1970s film work can tell attest, this is hardly the first time that Eastwood has gone across the bay to Alcatraz. In The Enforcer, Eastwood went to Alcatraz to kill a bunch of hippies and save the Mayor of San Francisco. It wasn’t easy but, fortunately, Clint found a rocket launcher.
However, in Escape from Alcatraz, it’s hard not to notice that Clint is wearing handcuffs. And the cops beat him up while traveling to the island. And once they reach the prison …. oh my God, they’re making Clint Eastwood walk down a prison hallway naked and shoving him into a cell! Is this some early form of 60 Days In or could it be that Clint Eastwood is playing a convict? After starting the 70s in the role of Dirty Harry Callahan, Clint Eastwood ended the 70s playing one of the people who Callahan would have arrested. (Or, if we’re going to be totally honest, shot.)
Specifically, Clint Eastwood is playing Frank Morris. The real-life Morris was a career criminal. He had a genius IQ but he loved to steal and he spent most of his known life in prison. He was specifically sent to Alcatraz because he had a history of escaping from other prisons. Because Alcatraz was sitting on an island in the middle of the difficult-to-cross San Francisco Bay, it had a reputation for being inescapable and, indeed, every previous escape attempt had failed and led to someone getting gunned down by the guards. Morris, of course, immediately started to plot his escape. Working with three other prisoners, Morris managed to tunnel his way out of the prison. (Famously, Morris and his accomplices also managed to create papier-mâché dummy heads, which were left in their beds and kept the guards from realizing that they had escaped from their cells.) No one knows whether Morris and his accomplices managed to cross the bay, though I think most people would prefer to think that they made it to freedom. Our natural tendency is to root for the underdog, even if they are a group of car thieves fleeing from a federal prison.
For the most part, Escape from Alcatraz sticks to the facts of Morris’s escape. Of course, because Frank Morris is played by Clint Eastwood, there’s never really much doubt as to whether or not he’s going to figure out a way to get out of the prison. There’s not a prison in the world that could hold 70s-era Clint Eastwood!
The casting of Eastwood, however, adds another layer to the story because Eastwood, especially at the time that Escape from Alcatraz was made, was the ideal representation of individualism. From the minute the smug warden (played by Patrick McGoohan) tells Morris that it will be impossible to escape from Alcatraz, it becomes obvious why Morris has no other option but to escape. The warden thinks that he can tell the prisoners what to do, when to talk, and what to think. The warden expects his prisoners to live and act like monks who have taken a vow of silence but, instead of offering the hope of salvation, the warden is more concerned with exercising his own power. The warden doesn’t flinch at taking away the rights of the prisoners, even after his actions lead to an otherwise harmless prisoner having a mental breakdown and chopping off his own fingers. As such, Escape from Alctraz is not just another mid-budget, 70s action movie. Instead, it’s the story of the State (represented by McGoohan) vs the Individual (represented by Eastwood). It’s a film that says that yes, Frank Morris may be a criminal but he still has a right to his humanity. Society may want to forget about the prisoners in Alcatraz but Frank Morris has no intention of being forgotten,
Escape from Alcatraz was Eastwood’s final collaboration with the director Don Siegel. Siegel instinctively understood how to best use Eastwood’s laconic presence. Siegel previously directed Eastwood in Dirty Harry, another film that featured a conflict between the State and the Individual. Perhaps even more importantly, Siegel directed the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers, another film in which one man struggles to maintain his humanity and his sense of self. In many ways, both Alcatraz’s warden and the alien body snatchers are portrayed as having the same goal. They both want to eliminate free will and human emotion. In the end, the viewer doesn’t just want Morris to escape because he’s Clint Eastwood. Instead, the viewer knows that Morris has to escape before he’s robbed of his soul.
(Sadly, Siegel and Eastwood had a bit of a falling out during the direction of Escape from Alcatraz, with Siegel apparently buying the rights to the story before Eastwood could purchase them in order to make sure that Siegel and not Eastwood would be credited as the film’s producer. This led to a rift between the two men, one that was wasn’t healed before Siegel’s death in 1991. However, even after their rift, Eastwood continued to say that everything he knew about directing, he learned from watching Sergio Leone and Don Siegel. Unforgiven was dedicated to both of them.)
Escape from Alcatraz is an enjoyable and entertainingly tense action film, one that convinces us that prison is Hell and which also features one of Eastwood’s best performances. (Like many actors, Eastwood seems to have more fun playing a rule-breaking rebel as opposed to an upholder of law and order.) The supporting cast is also great, with McGoohan turning the warden into a truly hissable villain. Fred Ward, Jack Thibeau, and Larry Hankin all make good impressions as Morris’s accomplices while Roberts Blossom will break your heart as a prisoner who just wants to be allowed to paint.
Personally, I don’t know if Frank Morris survived his escape attempt but I know that Clint Eastwood definitely did.
What goes up must come down
What goes ’round must come ’round
What’s been lost must be found
As the song says, what goes up must go down. The 1977 film, The Incredible Melting Man, is about a man who went up and then came back down and …. AGCK! What a mess!
The Incredible Melting Man opens with the launch of the first manned spaceflight to Saturn. That’s right, Saturn. The film takes place in the 70s, when mankind was still lucky to just be able to make it to the Moon and back. But somehow, this rocket and its three passengers are going to fly all the way to Saturn, land, and then return to Earth. And speaking of landing, how exactly do you land on a planet that doesn’t have a solid surface? And, even more importantly, why do all of the shots of Saturn look like the sun? How come there aren’t any rings? WHAT IS GOING ON!? Could it be that the rocket went off track and went to the sun instead? It’s possible, I suppose. Mistakes cannot be avoided, much like a spinning wheel turning around.
Anyway, the rocket eventually returns from Saturn or the sun or wherever it went. Unfortunately, most of the crew is dead. The only survivor is Steve West (played by Alex Rebar). Apparently, West was so physically strong that he was able to survive whatever killed the other astronauts. Unfortunately, West was still infected with Saturn microbes and now he’s slowly melting. Steve doesn’t react well to that news so he escapes from the hospital and goes on a poorly-defined rampage. He kills a nurse. He rips the head off a fisherman. He kills two old people who were trying to steal oranges. Steve loses an eye. His arm falls off. He leaves behind a trail a radioactive goo. Apparently, Steve has to consume human flesh to slow down the melting process but make no mistake, there’s no way he’s not going to end a puddle of goo.
Steve’s friend, Dr. Ted Nelson (Burr DeBenning), decides to try to track down Steve so that he can get Steve to stop eating people and just melt away in peace. Ted can’t even tell the local authorities what he’s doing because that information is classified and Ted’s boss is like a total jerk. Ted does tell his wife, Judy (Anne Sweeny). Judy and Ted then get into an argument because Judy forgot to buy crackers the last time she went to the grocery store. Some may scoff that the lengthy and not very relevant cracker discussion was included just to pad this film’s running time but I think it adds a level of reality to the proceedings. People like crackers, even when they’re looking for a friend who is melting.
Anyway, The Incredible Melting Man is a weird little movie but I always kind of enjoy it. As played by Burr DeBenning, Dr. Ted Nelson is one of the least likable heroes to ever show up in a movie. He always seems to be annoyed about everything. Even when Steve West is killing people, Ted mostly just seems to be annoyed by the fact that he’s having to go outside to deal with it. Fortunately, Ted’s unlikability makes it fun to watch as absolutely nothing goes right for him over the course of the film. Ted is beyond surly and Steve is beyond melty. As bad as most of the dialogue and the acting may be, the melting man makeup is actually really effective and Alex Rebar does about as good a job as anyone cast as a melting man could. Let’s give this one two and a half star and wonder how many people in 1977 saw it on a double bill with Saturday Night Fever.
What’s an Insomnia File? You know how some times you just can’t get any sleep and, at about three in the morning, you’ll find yourself watching whatever you can find on cable or Netflix? This feature is all about those insomnia-inspired discoveries!
If you were having trouble getting to sleep last night, you could have gone over to YouTube and you could have watched the the 1971 film, Jud.
In fact, looking the film up on YouTube might very well be the only way that you could have watched Jud. Jud is one of those obscure, 70s indie films that has apparently never gotten a proper video release in the United States. The version that’s been uploaded to YouTube was taken from a Chinese VHS tape. It had Chinese subtitles and the image was pretty grainy. There was a point where, for three minutes, the image froze and only the audio could be heard. In other words, it’s not the ideal way to watch any movie but, with Jud, that’s probably the best that anyone could hope for.
As for what Jud is about, it’s about a man named …. well, Jud. Played by an appealing actor named Joseph Kaufmann, Jud has just returned to the United States from serving in Vietnam. His uncle arranges for Jud to live at a rooming house, one that is full of the usual indie film eccentrics. Jud doesn’t want to talk about what he saw in Vietnam and no one seems to want to talk to him about it. But perhaps someone should because Jud is still haunted by flashbacks and nightmares, making this one of the first films to attempt to sympathetically deal with PTSD. Jud just wants to get on with his life but, after everything he’s seen, he feels out of place in the civilian world. A one night stand with a friendly hippy (played by future B-movie queen Claudia Jennings) leads to nowhere. A fight in a diner leads to a police chase. The only person who is interested in Jud’s story is Bill (played, quite well, by Robert Denman), whose status as a closeted gay man in the early 70s has taught him something about alienation.
Jud is an uneven film. There are moments of real insight but there also moments where the film itself gets a bit too heavy-handed for its own good. A lengthy scene where the viewer is subjected to close-ups of Jud’s roommates eating seems to go on forever. (Anti-war films of the 70s always seemed to feature close-ups of old people eating for some reason. I guess it was meant to be a commentary on American gluttony but it always feels more like lazy symbolism.) Especially when compared to other films of the period, Jud deserves credit for portraying Bill sympathetically but it’s still hard not to feel that the character’s ultimate fate is a cliché.
That said, Joseph Kaufmann gives a good performance as Jud and wisely underplays the scenes that would lead a lesser actor to overact. (Sadly, Kaufmann died in a plane crash, just two years after the release of Jud, at the age of 29.) Despite featuring a bit more folk music that I would normally listen to, the film has a great soundtrack and, even more importantly, the songs fit well with the action. (If nothing else, the lyrics help to share what Jud is feeling but can’t quite articulate.) Finally, for a history nerd like me, Jud is interesting because it serves as a time capsule. This low-budget, indie film was shot on the streets of L.A. in the early 70s and it has a bit of documentary feel to it. Until someone invents a time machine and people get the ability to visit the past in person, films like Jud will do.
Previous Insomnia Files: