C’etait un Rendezvous (1976): Thrillingly Irresponsible Filmmaking

•December 6, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Forget every car chase you’ve seen in film – they cannot compare to C’etait un Rendezvous (1976).

Synopsis: Director Claude Lelouch made this short film by strapping a camera to a vehicle and racing through the streets of Paris at jaw-dropping speeds.

When I say that no car chase can compare, it is quite simply because every filmed car chase is staged; planned, organized, controlled… not so with C’etait un Rendezvous. Lelouch filmed it in the wee hours of the morning to minimize pedestrian and vehicle interference; as well, one observer was placed at the only blind spot on the route with a radio to warn Lelouch of any pedestrians in that location. Apart from that, it is the driving skill of Lelouch alone that keeps disaster at bay (and believe me, disaster appears to be imminent when watching this short). Running less than 10 minutes, it is amongst the 10 most exciting minutes I have spent watching film. I covered my eyes each time he drove the wrong way down a one-way street; I chewed my nails whenever he went over the centre line (into direct oncoming traffic!); as he approached red light after red light, inside I screamed “green, green, GREEN!” I cannot emphasize how fast it seems Lelouch is driving, and the vantage point of the camera (which appears to be mounted on the front bumper) gives the impression that one is riding with Lelouch, sharing his insanity. I actually laughed with relief at the end (although the final shot of the film is also endearingly amusing). As an added bonus, when one is able to watch the film rather than hiding behind hands, we see the stunning beauty of Paris and its many iconic monuments whipping by.

I’m not sure it’s the most responsible filmmaking I’ve seen; in reality the director is lucky no one was injured or killed (he comes awfully close to pedestrians on a couple of occasions). But it is awfully entertaining. And with the knowledge in hand that no real damage was done, is becomes a true thrill ride.

It’s probably pretty hard to get your hands on, but this is a must for any fan of the car chase.

K

Posted in Action, Foreign, Short
Tags: , , , , ,

Quick Recommendations: Masters of Their Craft

•December 3, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Over the past few days, the hostage and I watched a couple of truly remarkable films, and I wanted to pass along a quick recommendation. Neither was from our internet DVD service, so I didn’t think to take notes. I’m glad now, as I was able to immerse myself in each experience (sometimes when I take notes, I focus more on what I want to say about a movie than what it’s saying to me. Trying to work past that). Given that each film represents a true master at work, I thought I’d pass along their gospel to the unconverted (or maybe you’re already a fan, but haven’t heard of these somewhat lesser known flicks).

The first was Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope (1948), a comedy about as dark as I’ve seen from Hitchcock (although, to be fair, I think the only outright comedy of his I’ve ever seen is The Trouble With Harry (1955), and that’s plenty dark too). Anyone familiar with the Leopold and Loeb case will recognize the story: two wealthy, educated young men commit a murder just to prove that they could. In Hitchcock’s version, they then invite his friends and family over for a dinner – which they serve on top of the trunk in which they’ve stowed the body. Come on now, that’s just tasteless. I saw this many years ago, after my fascination with serial killers (which seemed badass at the time, and now just sounds so clichéd and unoriginal) lead me to Leopold and Loeb, and ultimately, Rope. But on first viewing, I completely missed the element I found to be the most intriguing this time: Hitchcock filmed the entire picture in 10-minute-long takes, and then spliced it brilliantly together to make it appear as though the whole film is one take. It is a genius piece of filmmaking for that fact alone; Jimmy Stewart, black humour, and a body in a trunk are just the icing on this cake.

The second was Hal Ashby’s Being There (1980). Well, he directed it, but let’s be honest: this movie belongs to Peter Sellers. The story is basically a loose comedic retelling of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. Sellers stars as a “touched” (special? challenged? What’s the PC term now?) man, set loose in the world when his employer dies, armed only with the knowledge he has gained from watching television over the years. In brilliant satiric form, his simple, concrete thinking (often somehow related to gardening or television) is misinterpreted by those around him as profundity, and he becomes known as a sage political advisor. This is the second Sellers movie I’ve watched in the past week (the first being an old favourite of mine, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964). K, you ask, did you really need to write out the entire title? Yes, because it’s so good, it deserves a little attention). It struck me that Being There and Dr. Strangelove have a strange and powerful similarity in how they are filmed: they both look dramatic. Neither director (Ashby or Kubrick) hints that there is a comedy unfolding on-screen – rather the use of the camera, music, costumes – the entire feel of each is that of a serious drama. It is only in listening to the dialogue (“I’m sorry too Dimitri!”) and following the narrative that the insane comedy becomes clear. And these are funny, funny movies. But in Being There, when Sellers stands over the body of a loved one who has just passed, tears brimming in his eyes, and whispers, “I’ve seen this before. It happens to old people,” it took a good minute before I realized the hilarity of that line. His grief was so palpable, it took me away from the content of the line. It’s so well done, it fools you even though you know you’re watching a comedy. So I suppose I shouldn’t be so dismissive of Ashby just because Sellers is absurdly talented; this is a beautiful film.

As a final note, has there ever been a better comedic actor than Peter Sellers? Not a comedian, but an actor who treated comedy with the reverence most actors save for dramatic roles; an actor that could disappear in three roles in a movie with the audience none the wiser? And no, the Klumps don’t count. It seems that whenever an actor plays multiple roles now (Eddie Murphy, Mike Myers), it’s done with a wink at the audience who are all in on the gag. If I didn’t already know that Sellers plays Mandrake, Muffley, and Strangelove, I’d never have guessed. Even on repeat viewings I marvel at the completely distinct characters he created – mannerisms, voices, posture – a complete transformation each time. The hostage and I have this debate semi-regularly: who else would even be on the table as comparable?

Until the next, enjoy some Hitchcock and Sellers.

K.

Posted in Comedy
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

The American Nightmare: In the Hands of a Maniac

•November 30, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I saw A Nightmare on Elm Street when I was 7 years old (much to my parent’s chagrin, I had friends with older siblings who took much less care in what I watched that my folks did). When I could sleep without a nightlight again, I watched Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter. When nightmares from that subsided, I watched Pet Semetary, which gave me frightful visions of Zelda crawling up my staircase with her twisted back. So I could no longer sleep with the door open (a habit that remains to this day). I started reading Stephen King at 9, with Cujo, then voraciously devoured anything of his I could get my hands on (until I turned 13 and discovered fantasy. Oh yes, I am that big of a geek).

My parents, to their credit, recognized my obsession was not going to abate, and instead tried to steer me towards more age-appropriate horror movies and books. I could rent horror movies that were PG-13 and under. My father, bibliophile that he is, directed me to subtler horror stories, such as Le Fanu’s Carmilla. I certainly accepted such recommendations, but that doesn’t mean I stopped seeking out the more intense fare where I could. My sister had a lot more sense that I did. When Church jumped out of the tree in Pet Semetary, and she leapt 3 feet off the couch, she recognized that the movie would bother her later and left. I always had this feeling of invulnerability while watching horror – it was exhilarating! And I was never that scared while I watched, so why would it bother me later? When the lights are out? And everyone’s in bed and everything is quiet, except for that odd thumping noise I am *certain* I heard coming from the closet…

I enjoy a bad horror movie, but there is nothing in the world of entertainment that thrills me as much as a great horror movie. Except perhaps intelligent and passionate people talking about horror. If you’re with me, IFC’s The American Nightmare (2000) was made for you (us!).

Synopsis: Horror filmmakers and academics explore the emergence of horror trends through the 70s and into the 80s, starting with George A. Romero’s masterpiece, Night of the Living Dead (1968).

This was like sitting in on a roundtable with some of the most influential American horror filmmakers of all time: Romero, John Carpenter, Tom Savini, Wes Craven, Tobe Hooper, John Landis, David Cronenberg – the talent involved is staggering. We learn their motivations and intentions; for example, Romero’s rationale for transforming the zombie from slave-form to hungry-for-brains-form. Or the fact that Night of the Living Dead was filmed in black and white to mimic the news programs of the day, in order to enhance the verite feel. We hear behind-the-camera stories, and not only from the era of focus; as these directors are all enthused horror fans themselves, we get stories from the classics as well. Apparently Boris Karloff received hundreds of cards from children who were sympathetic to Frankenstein’s monster (which gratified him, as that was his intention with his portrayal of the monster). We also get a personal look at how their lives have influenced their work. Tom Savini, in a particularly engaging segment, accounts his time as a soldier in Vietnam and how that impacted his visionary gore effects.

Throughout, the film is interspersed with intense footage of political and social events of the time. The filmmakers and horror academics continually tie what was happening on-screen to what was happening in the streets, such as the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war. Often the films were drawing much stronger parallels to the sociopolitical climate than they were given credit. The academics also explain the underlying cultural needs satisfied by certain horror myths; for instance, the creation of ghost stories help satiate our desire for immortality. All in all, it is incredibly interesting for any horror fan.

My favourite segment involved John Landis explaining the difference between the suspenseful horror of the 50s and early 60s, and the rawer terror of what emerged in the latter part of the 60s and the 70s. He spoke about how, when watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie, everything you feel is precisely what Hitchcock intended – he is in complete control, and there’s a sort of comfort in that, a sense of security. With films like Last House on the Left and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, audiences didn’t know what to expect; the filmmakers were suddenly untrustworthy. Landis described the difference as going from “the hands of a master” to “the hands of a maniac.” What a brilliantly apt description.

MVP: John Landis, who speaks about all film as though he were a 12-year-old boy who had just finished watching each movie. I particularly enjoyed his recollection of the first time he saw Night of the Living Dead.

If you can get your hands on it, it is highly recommended. Until the next,

K

Posted in Documentary, Horror
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

RIP Leslie Nielsen

•November 29, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Pneumonia’s no way to die! A parachute not opening… that’s a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a combine… having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that’s the way I wanna go! 

RIP Leslie Nielsen. Surely your comedic genius will be missed. It already is, and don’t call me Shirley.

Posted in Comedy
Tags: , ,

Evil Aliens: There is a line . . . . . .

•November 26, 2010 • 1 Comment

Good day all,

Well I’ve wriggled free again to let you know about a film I should have loved. Take everything I said about La Dolce Vita and think the exact opposite. All kinds of stuff happens, but it’s terribly acted and looks like they threw a few hundred bucks into it. The opening scene of this movie sums up my response perfectly; fade in to simulated, missionary sex in a graveyard (girl in bra, but a wonderful omen) and it’s followed up with a spectacularly realistic anal probing with a Roto-Rooter. I was right with it every step of the way, and then it hit that decency line (which is pretty far out there for me) and proceeds to skip merrily past the line while flipping the bird and mumbling something about your mom. Inbred, Welsh hicks watching the serious, but morally corrupt reporter (who you know is gearing down about two seconds after you meet her) having very public sex with the dreamy cameraman; booyah, I’m down. Showing the money shot dribble down the wall while the rest of the crew ambles in, no. I’m no Puritan,  but no.  But I don’t want to ruin the dramatic ending, so lets get specific about unspecifics.

Ladies. Brief nudity and simulated sex a few times and a crudeness that gave this radiator ornament a moment of pause. The women in this film really don’t bring much, I mean, even the reporter who is supposed to fit the role of plucky woman that finds herself through the ordeal is vapid and stupid and just, no. I want you ladies to know that I’m down with this whole, womens’ lib thing, and I won’t even push you into a bear pit, so this film just offered no women I would consider attractive. There are some hot ladies fellas, but none that notch up to that attractive level (you know, you enjoy the conversation the next morning). There’s boob, but there’s even something wrong about that. Ladies, can I get you over at camera three for a PSA:

Hello ladies, thanks for stopping by. I want you to imagine me making eye contact with you and speaking in a very rhythmic, soothing yet confident voice. I appreciate that some of you had dads that missed various events and that you choose to augment certain elements of your physical appearance (for those of you that do it because you genuinely feel sexier, booyah), but please do so responsibly. Talk to your surgeon about a realistic look, especially when bouncing passionately. And don’t forget nipple sensitivity; you have some quack hit a nerve and that baby’s dead forever, and I think we can all agree that everyone appreciates the upside of sensitive nipples. Consider scars, and where they’ll be and then, finally, look in the mirror and feel beautiful.

Sorry about that fellas, I had to drop a troofbomb on the ladies there. Again, the ladies are hot but there an ugliness about them that greatly diminishes the pure joy of seeing them naked.

Gore. When it goes for gore it goes for the gusto, and I will say the gore effects were solid. That is the only production value compliment afforded, because, really, your aliens look like Howard the Duck and Predator had a retarded offfspring (clinical term, don’t kill the messenger) and they were pissed about existing. At times they take down an inbred hick with mad precision and, at others, they fall into each other and kill themselves. Seriously, a dozen soccer hooligans take out the entire alien threat (which converts to twenty-one shiv-ready hobos for all you non-metric folk). They were brutal and messy and really seemed to be trying, but they just aren’t scary. This movie was trying really hard to be Dead Alive (Braindead), but just goes too far in trying to be grossout/sexy to really work. Watch Braindead instead, seriously.

Well folks I’m going to start tapping a little Morse Code on the walls and floor, a cracker’s gotta keep out hope, and keep watching this stuff until Cruella DeVille on the other page gets bored and kills me. At least this one had boobies and that’s almost never a bad thing (see Polanski’s Macbeth, re: old ass naked witches) and more than just talking. You gotta see the bright side. Worth seeing if you love bad horror, and I do, but not for anyone else.

Until I gnaw through the zip ties again,

The Hostage

Posted in Comedy, Horror

« Previous Entries
Next Entries »