High School Musical (2006)

I don't make a habit of watching Disney made-for-cable movies (although I have seen a few), but I made a point of viewing this one since it has been something of a phenomenon, selling millions of DVDs and CDs and even being licensed for school performances.  There has also been a dance track video and the sequel is in the works.  Wow!

The most I can say is that it is harmless fun with no drugs, sex or rock 'n roll to offend anyone.  The score is derivative but pleasant and the storyline unsurprising.  Basketball jock Zac Efron (a pretty boy in the Rob Lowe mold) meets latina Vanessa Anne Hudgens at a resort New Year's Eve party and is delighted when she transfers to his high school.  Meanwhile brother and sister Ashley Tisdale and Lucas Grabeel (a Disney alumnus) are the star musical performers of the school drama club.  (She is in fact the most experienced of the cast, but did come across as something of a clunker).  Anyhow when the first pair decide to audition for the leads in the new production much to the second pair's horror, everyone tries to put obstacles in their way.  Oddly enough Efron's voice which was partly dubbed was certainly a whole lot weaker than Grabeel's.  But, as expected, the diva loses out when the rest of the school supports the underdogs -- and everyone ends up as good friends regardless, a wholesome rainbow world where even the fat kids are popular.

I'm sure that the main audience for this movie must be pre-teen girls, since I can't believe that older teens would buy into it, unless they are pretty uncomplicated indeed.  And for once in a teenie flick the cast looked too young.  Normally the reverse is true with the actors seeming nearly elderly (think of "Grease" -- incidentally the working title for this movie was "Grease 3".)  In this film even the star basketball team seemed to be made up of midgets -- well at least not the l7-l8 year-old giants one expects.  Yet in this era of bad-taste movies, the film had an old-fashioned morality which must go down a treat with many.

One day's viewing

To compensate for last week's deprivation, yesterday became Marathon Sunday -- but even I drew the line at four films.  And what a mixed bunch they were:

Two from 1951: That's 55 years ago says PPP proving she can still do arithmetic and two that I've not seen previously, although "The Steel Helmet" has been on my "must-see" list for a long time.  Written and directed by Samuel Fuller (and just about anything he has done is loaded with interest), I should have hated this war movie (my least favourite genre), but it was brilliantly conceived and held up very well after all these years.  Always a low-budget auteur, this Korean war tale was shot in a local L.A. park with a minor cast and starred Gene Evans, who is not exactly a well-known name.  He plays a sergeant, the only survivor of his regiment, who is rescued by a Korean youngster and who  meets up with the stragglers from other decimated platoons; these include a tough by-the-book officer played by Steve Brodie, a black medic, an Asian-American and various other oddballs.  Like all war movies, not everyone survives the attack on the Buddhist temple where they are holed up, but the dialogue and emotion felt very real and the total futility of war manifest.  The second 1951 flick was more of a potboiler, but at least I have now seen it.  Called "The Second Woman", it stars Robert Young in a late movie role as an architect with a secret.  His fiancee has been killed on the eve of their wedding, and after he meets new love interest Betsy Drake (once married to Cary Grant, but a strangely anaemic actress), bad things happen -- his horse goes lame, his dog and his rosebushes are poisoned, his house burns down, he loses the big contract he's been chasing.  We're meant to believe he is a "paranoiac" as claimed by the local doctor and that he is responsible for all of these things, but we the audience know that nice Mr. Young is incapable of bad behaviour.  The obvious villains turn out to be red herrings and the least likely culprit is eventually revealed.  But by then you will have ceased caring. 

Mean Creek (2004): This was a beautifully done coming of age film from writer-director Jacob Aaron Estes with an underlying sense of unease to keep the viewer on the edge of his seat.  Young Rory Culkin is being bullied at school by fat misfit Josh Peck; Culkin's elderbrother and his two mates decide that Peck must be taught a lesson and invite him to join them, Culkin and the latter's young girlfriend, Carly Schroeder, on a birthday outing on the river.  They plan to humiliate Peck to teach him a lesson, but young Millie (the moral voice of the group) dissuades them -- and indeed Peck does not appear to be as much a monster as he seemed; his agression stemming from his own insecurities, as is so often the case.  However a tragedy ensues and the youngsters do not know how to deal with it -- do they cover it up or face the music?  They are unable to agree unanimously and the film does in fact stop quite abruptly without spelling out the various results.  It could have done with a lot more closure.

Wedding Crashers (2005): It's not difficult to see why this was a big surprise hit at the box office since its likeable leads, Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, are amusing company.  They're best friends and business partners, but their main downtime activity is crashing weddings (of all faiths and hues) where they are always remarkably popular and always manage to entice a female or two into bed -- which is the point of the exercise from their point of view.  They come unstuck when they crash the reception of Christopher Walken's eldest and become involved with his two younger daughters.  They are roped into a house party which includes a gay brother, a nymphomaniac wife (a real rotten part for Jane Seymour), and the swarmy yuppie fiance of the daughter that Wilson fancies.  It's by and large good-natured fun, although I could have lived without meeting Vaughn's original mentor played by an uncredited Will Ferrell who has now taken to crashing funerals.  That's really not funny.

 

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Without wishing to rain on anyone's parade, I must confide that I have never been a sucker for the Star Wars films.  I can understand why they have their fans (although not why some of them are obsessive) and I can admire the skills that George Lucas has brought to film-making technique, but I just can't bring myself to view the series as anything other than glorious hokum.  Maybe that is enough. 

Now that they have finally shown the third prequel on Sky, I have at last seen all six movies, since I never cared enough to view the above film at the cinema or on DVD.   The film is undoubtedly spectacular with its non-stop visual effects, but since one is never in doubt where the story is going (one knows all this from the original three movies), there is not much in the way of plot to involve the viewer, forcing one to focus on some very wooden acting and some very duff dialogue.  I guess I should be grateful that Lucas scrapped his original plan to do nine films in total -- although who knows what the future will bring.  In short, a feast for the eyes, if not for the brain.

A limited choice of in-flight flicks

I've been back a couple of days but just getting around to finding the time to update anyone who cares on my recent viewing -- which was solely limited to the round-trip flights.  With all the recent hoo-ha and disruption at Heathrow, I thought it might be best to avoid that airport completely and to travel with a small, all-business-class airline (MAXjet) out of Stanstead which worked out very well in terms of easy check-in and security.  Yes, it cost a few bob more, but in the present climate it was well worth it and an exercise I'd repeat.  The only problem from Pretty Pink's point of view was the rather pathetic choice of entertainment, although this probably is far more important to me that to any rational traveller.  One was presented with a device rather like a portable DVD player, but pre-programmed with a selection of films, TV programmes and music videos; there were perhaps 30-odd movies to choose from -- but most of them were elderly, not classics mind you, but a selection of popular fare from the last five years or so, nearly all of which I've seen (in some cases more than once).  However there were a very few recent films to watch -- in my case two outward and one back, as follows:

Inside Man (2006): Rather atypical fare from director Spike Lee in much the same way as his recent "25th Hour", since despite its co-starring Denzel Washington, this bank heist caper is not any sort of black diatribe.  He plays a police detective attempting to negotiate with bank robber Clive Owen who is holding a number of hostages, but who -- as it turns out -- is not there to rob the bank in the conventional sense.  Owen's hidden agenda becomes apparent in due course and his success in this mission is not without interest.  However, Jodie Foster, as a society busybody brought in by the bank president, is handed a rather underwritten and thankless role.

Firewall (2006):  Another caper movie tailored to the aging charms of Harrison Ford, who plays a bank security specialist forced to cooperate with Paul Bettany's band of baddies, if he wishes to save his wife and kiddies.  A little unnecessarily violent and designed to present Ford in the best possible action- hero light, the film is really only of interest for Bettany's unusual casting.  No prizes for guessing who wins out in the end.

The Sentinel (2006):  I find it rather amusing that Michael Douglas is beginning to be more and more like his old man in choosing "look-at-me-how manly-and-irresistible-I-am" roles.  In this film he plays a special security agent who once took a bullet for the president (much like Eastwood in "In the Line of Fire"), who is being framed for a plot to kill the current president.  The fact that he is having it off with the president's wife (Kim Basinger) doesn't help his case.  Agents Kiefer Sutherland and Eva Longoria come down hard on him initially, forcing him to flee to clear his name, but of course they are soon won round and help him expose the real culprit (who is so obviously the baddie that his unmasking comes as no surprise).

All three movies were watchable but disposable, and time-fillers rather than rattling entertainment.  The playing device did, I must confess, give a far better and controllable picture than the usual airline screen.  Now if they could only mesh that with Virgin's choice, I'd be a very happy bunny.

The Life and Death of Peter Sellers (2004)

Totally unrelated to my occasional humour-bypass, I must confess that I have never really liked Peter Sellers, and the only film of his in my collection is "Doctor Strangelove...".  I'd be hard-pressed to explain why I don't even like the Pink Panther films -- there is just something about his persona (or in his case personae) that I find disturbing.  This US cable/BBC joint production is a good try at filming a biopic and Geoffrey Rush does a very professional job in the lead, but the movie comes nowhere near explaining the man and the insecurities that made him such an unpleasant human being in real life.  One has often heard that Sellers only had a personality in the characters he played and that the man himself was an empty shell.  I don't believe it since it is clear to me that behind the humourous characterizations was a difficult and tormented soul.  Perhaps that explains my own distaste for the actor.  Anyhow this film was well-mounted, reasonably well-cast but fairly spotty in providing a good insight into the man, especially since parts of his story were not included for various legal reasons.  One story-telling ploy which I did find annoying was to have Sellers morph not just into the characters he played, but also into actual people in his life -- hence we had Sellers at various stages playing his father, Blake Edwards, and even his dead mother, where these roles had previously been filled by other actors.  I think this is taking the point about his not being his own man just a wee bit too far.

This will be my last entry for a while as I am reluctantly off to New York again.  But as Arnie said, I will return.  See you then.

A Lot Like Love (2005)

Having finally warmed to big lunk Ashton Kutcher in the director's cut of "The Butterfly Effect", I had no reluctance watching this rom-com starring him and Amanda Peet.  Of course neither one of them is guaranteed box office gold, but in its small way this movie was entertaining enough and an acceptable way to spend ninety odd minutes.  Just don't expect me to remember much about it in say a month from now.  After spotting each other at the airport, the couple "meet cute" by her barging into the airline toilet just after he has entered and effectively having her way with him.  Not that he objected.   They part (several times as it happens) but agree that she should look him up in six years to discover how big a success he has become and how gorgeous a wife he will have.  Fortuitously the couple does meet periodically over this period, but since each has his own agenda, their obvious attraction is not permitted to develop -- until of course the very end, where in the nick of time they realise that the other one is really the perfect one they have been seeking all along.  No big surprise that, but a pleasant enough ride. 

Song of Freedom (1936)

Does anyone else remember the period back in the '80s when both BBC2 and Channel 4 featured themed movie seasons?  It's been a long time since either channel has seen fit to do so, apart from the occasional run of a few films with the same well-known lead.  Anyhow one of these seasons back then was dedicated to Paul Robeson, a name that probably doesn't mean much to anyone under 40 and probably not much to many over that age.  He was a huge, black American-born baritone who was larger than life in every sense.  Being effectively very left-wing, his career was virtually destroyed by the Communist witch-hunts of the l950s and his many accomplishments long forgotten -- but his voice, once heard, lives on forever.

His main film career, oddly enough, was in Britain and the above movie is one of several made here in the '30s.  His only major American role of the period was in the l936 version of "Show Boat", of course singing 'Old Man River'.  Anyhow when the films were shown on TV I taped them all and they are now languishing on unplayable beta tapes; I think I can forget about their being screened again.   I was therefore delighted to find an American "black heritage" label that has packaged some of these in double-disc sets with minor all-black movies of the period.  The non-Robeson movies are unfortunately pretty pathetic, with poor prints, poor production and even unmemorable musical numbers.  But the Robeson films are great; the big difference is that he starred with a mixed black and white cast in the British offerings and back then there would never had been a black hero in a mainstream film in the States.  In this one he plays a British-born docker who yearns to learn more about his African past.  When an impressario hears him in full voice, he trains him to become an internationally-acclaimed opera singer which allows him to not only discover his origins and claim his kingship, but also to do something for his people despite the opposition of local ignorance.  I am just so thankful that someone has seen fit to preserve these performances for posterity.

City Slickers (1991)

I first became aware of Billy Crystal when he played Jodie on "Soap" -- still my favourite long-running TV comedy series.  After enjoying "Momma..." below, I wanted more and found my copy of the above movie which I personaly consider his best (even better than "When Harry Met Sally", although it's a close call).  In this film, he and his two closest friends (Daniel Stern and the late Bruno Kirby) are each facing a different mid-life crisis and they try to resolve them by taking a working cattle-drive holiday.  The result is a movie full of smiles rather than chortles, an amusing meditation on the meaning of friendship and responsibility. It is well-played right down the cast list, including David Paymer and Josh Mostel as Ben-and-Jerry-like ice cream makers and Jack Palance in Oscar-winning support as the tough trail boss.  The latter's scenes with Crystal smack of brilliance as two characters who are a world apart find common ground.  Even now thinking about Norman the Calf makes me feel happy -- and that has to be a good thing.

Throw Momma from the Train (1987)

While I'm on a 'do I or don't I have a sense of humour' jag, I had another look at this piece of mayhem which I'd not seen for a while, and it's yet another black comedy that seems to work.  The first directorial effort from Danny De Vito, it pits him as a hopeless would-be writer taking a course from frustrated writer Billy Crystal, whose brilliant first novel was stolen by his ex-wife and who has had nothing but writer's block since.  After De Vito watches "Strangers on a Train" at Crystal's suggestion, he immediately assumes that he is meant to dispose of the latter's hated wife in exchange for Crystal ridding him of his overbearing mother.  She is an incredible grotesque, brilliantly embodied by a raucous Anne Ramsey, and one can just about sympathize with De Vito's quandary of dealing with a woman that he both loves and fears.  Of course nothing ever really goes as planned; when Crystal is sought for his wife's supposed murder, he hides out at De Vito's home and they gradually form an unlikely bond.  They also both eventually find unexpected success as writers, but that would be giving away the film's final joke.  One can have a good time with this movie without necessarily rolling in the aisles. 

Si Que Di (Say I Do) (2004)

Returning to the vexed question of what strikes different folk as funny, I was completely knocked over by the silliness on display in this Spanish comedy and I must confess I enjoyed myself.  Yet it has a miserable viewer rating on IMDb.  The lovely Paz Vega is a would-be actress looking for a break on television and Santi Millan is a 35-year old cinema usher living at home with his mother.  Through a series of unlikely circumstances the pair ends up as contestants on a looking-for-romance reality programme, and her off-the-wall kookiness mixed with his get-me-out-of-here clumsiness endears them to the viewing audience.  They are then sent off on a luxury holiday for a week in the hope that they will return to marry on the show; there is a lot of money at stake, so they come to an uneasy truce.  A backfiring prank by the station forces them to go on the lam, before the inevitably happy conclusion.  I liked it.  Ms Vega is not only gorgeous to look at -- far more appealing than Penelope Cruz -- but has a vivacity and unselfconscious naturalness that is winning.

11'09"01 September 11 (2002)

I've known about this film since its release and since it was partially British-financed, I half expected it to turn up during the last week amongst the various 9/11 programming.  Well it didn't, so I set it to watch off German television and with the help of a 'Sight and Sound' summary, I managed to make some sense of it -- but it just left me feeling so very, very angry, not so much regarding the event itself, but what some very well-known film-makers had made of it.

The French producer Alan Brigand came up with the wheeze that he would approach eleven leading directors from around the world and ask each of them to film a segment lasting exactly 11 minutes, 9 seconds and 1 frame -- depicting their take on the disaster.  In order of their presentation, I will attempt to briefly summarise the results:

Young Samira Makhmalbaf  from Iran portrayed a teacher attempting to describe the day's events to a group of young Afghan refugee children who had no concept of towers or airplanes or any understandable motive to take part in a minute's silence.

French director Claude Lelouch used the occasion as a mawkish reconciliation between a deaf woman in New York who is oblivious to the events being shown on her unwatched television and her dust-covered returning lover.

Egyptian director Youssef Chahine had an actor playing him and used the occasion to dwell on the ghosts of an American soldier killed in Beirut some years before, a young arab suicide bomber, and a role-call of American-inspired deaths and invasions over the years.

From Bosnia we had the rather muted story of how a monthly march by the women of the community commemorating a 1995 massacre was not postponed by the news from New York.

The jolliest meditation came from Burkino Faso where a young schoolboy with an ailing mother thinks he has spotted Osama bin Laden, and with his pals plans how to spend the 25 million dollars reward.

Our own dear Ken Loach gave us an exiled Chilean poet meditating on the day and the same date in 1973 when President Allende was murdered by a CIA-financed military coup, starting a reign of terror in that country.

The most pretentious entry was from Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Innarritu which was nearly eleven minutes of black screen with various ambient sound occasionally showing brief shots of bodies falling from the towers and ending on a white screen with an Arabic inscription translated as 'Does God's light guide us or blind us?'

From Israel, director Amos Gitai focussed on a street reporter trying to cover a car-bombing who gradually loses her feed to the station as New York takes over the news.

Indian director Mira Nair told the purportedly true story of a Pakistani family living in New York whose son disappeared on 9/11 and whom everyone assumed was some kind of conspirator, until his remains were found at the site some six months later -- when all of a sudden the people who readily condemned the family now treated them as raising a hero.

The most maudlin story and something of an embarrassment was the only American-directed one by Sean Penn.  He showed Ernest Borgnine as a lonely old man talking to his dead wife and going on from day to day.  Living in the shadow of the Towers, when they fell, his apartment was suddenly suffused with light and his dead plants sprang into vibrant life.  No doubt some sort of allegory about hope -- but it just didn't work.

The final and weirdest section came from 76-year old Japanese director Shohei Imamura and was set at the end of World War II with ostensibly little relevance to 9/ll.  A Japanese soldier returns home thinking he's a snake and is caged; when he escapes, he slithers down to the river and drowns.  Yeah, war is hell.

With friends like these, you don't need enemies.

 

Black Sunday (1961)

There was a time and not that long ago when one could see foreign films on BBC2, although the powers that be seem to have given this up for Lent.  The above Italian film, also known as "Mask of Satan", used to be aired regularly although dubbed, but is no longer available in any format.  More's the pity as it is one of the most important horror movies of all time.  It was the first directorial effort from Mario Bava who was originally a cinematographer and who did the camerawork here, and it is one of the most beautiful and atmospheric films ever.  The story is one we have seen often: a woman is burned as a witch and swears revenge on the descendants of her accuser who happened to be her brother; however this witch was not an innocent and a mask of nails was placed over her face.  She is played by horror icon Barbara Steele, a British beauty with a patchy career, largely in Italian films.  Steele also plays her descendent 200 years later, and after a drop of blood reawakens her from her tomb, all stops are pulled out to achieve her ends: to slaughter all who stand in her way and and to possess the young woman.  The movie was only ever released in its English dub here and the voice is not even Steele's own, but the image of her punctured face and her striking beauty are unforgettable.  Bava has created an enduring work that still terrifies and it is criminal that this movie is not more readily accessible.  The holy grail would be a copy in the original Italian with subtitles.