In The Company Of Glenn

Scorsese on MySpace

Martin Scorsese has a MySpace page. Now I have to go make myself a MySpace page, in slavish imitation, because I have to do everything Martin Scorsese does; I'm just like that. Have I told you about my affait with Liza Minnelli?

But seriously...the page, intended to promote Scorsese's Rolling Stones concert movie Shine a Light, is one of the more handsomely designed MySpace pages I've ever seen, although my experience with the site is, um, limited. Nice use of negative space and boxes. I dare say it is one of the very few MySpace pages extant in which Robert Bresson is cited.

Crises in contemporary cinema #9,256; or, 2008: The Year in Movies So Far

So I was at a social event yesterday, and the question came up, as it will, "Anything I should see?"

When that question comes up, you pretty much know that the questioner isn't necessarily soliciting your recommendation of, say, The Duchess of Langeais or Paranoid Park or Chop Shop, to name three noteworthy films that have already opened this year. Never mind the vexed and vexing question as to whether any of these films could find its way out of the highly circumscribed arthouse circuit in the U.S., the fact of the matter is that cinephilia in this time and place is also highly circumscribed, and the cinephile is plugged in enough that a) he or she is already well aware of the existence of these pictures and b) he or she is not so much likely to ask for my recommendations at a social event as he or she is to confront me about being completely in the tank for Rivette, or some such.

And I know that asking me for a movie recommendation is a form of default small talk in any case, but I was a little taken aback with myself to find myself absolutely stumped by the question. When Time's Richard Corliss asked on February 15, "Will there be a good movie this year?" I thought he was being a little premature, and he also answered his own question by citing The Band's Visit and 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. Now, a month later, looking at this weekend's box office top ten, I give a little shiver. Hell, by this time last year we had at least had a Zodiac to champion. I mean, The Bank Job is pretty diverting, but I've gotta think twice about recommending that to, say, a guy with a new addition to his family who's just been telling me how blown away he was by No Country For Old Men, a movie he's only now gotten around to because, among other things, he's got a new addition to his family. I figure I've gotta give this fellow something that's going to be THAT MUCH WORTH his ever-dwindling time. Doncha think?

And then, what about me? Do I have to wait until Cannes before I see anything I'll get really excited about—Cannes, where last year I saw, well whaddya know, No Country, Paranoid Park, The Band's Visit (which, come to think of it, would have made a not-too-left-field recommendation), etc., for the first time? Meaning I, we, whoever, have another two months of drillbitting, road-tripping, Brown-meeting, Who-hearing, not-backing-down crap to account for?

Yeesh. Am I missing something here?

Then again, I could just tell everyone to go see Funny Games, thus insuring that I'm never invited to another social event ever again...

Michael Pitt and Brady Corbet want you to know that movies are still your best entertainment value...

I'm Too Sexy For This Doc

My old pal and former Premiere colleague Tom Roston blogs every Friday at POV—"Doc Soup," his perspectives on documentaries in all their manifestations. Today he names his Ten Sexiest Documentaries of All Time and he's got some interesting choices. I'm not sure I'm completely on board with his counterintuitive argument on Gimme Shelter, and I'm not entirely surprised that he hasn't been able to actually see the ultra-rare Europa di Notte. Maybe I'll lend him my Mondo Cane Collection to give him the proper flavor of that sort of thing. But then again, maybe I won't, as Tom's household contains a small child who ought not even be exposed to the packaging of such things.

The least sexy documentaries, of course, are documentaries about porn and/or porn stars.

'Blood' will tell...

The fruits of my recent labors are beginning to appear; my "proper" review of Paul Thomas Anderson's monumental There Will Be Blood can be found here. Generally the website's policy is to post movie reviews on the days of their releases, maybe a couple of days before. But it's clear, especially during the putative awards-movie season, that there are no rules anymore. Hell, not even in print magazines—David Denby's writeup on Anderson's film appeared in The New Yorker on Monday. (I respect Denby a great deal as a writer, although we're hardly ever on the same page, opinion-wise; but as it happens we're both major Blood fans...except I disagree with him—sharply—about the film's finale. Denby also gets bonus points in that he appears—so far—to be the sole film critic to have read the Upton Sinclair book upon which Blood is based.) Seeing that, I admit, kinda forced my hand. (UPDATE: A reader, in comments, feels that the Denby review is spoiler-heavy, early on. I'm not entirely in concurrence, but forewarned is forearmed.)

Still...part of me believes it's unfair play for us chattering classes to get the conversation about a movie so revved up before a single paying customer has been able to see it. As a blogger, I'm dying to get into the film even more, but I want to do so with as many readers as possible—not that I don't enjoy the input of my largely like-minded critic pals such as Keith Uhlich (good vibes right back at you, my friend), Nick Schager, Jurgen Fauth, Ed Gonzalez and Ryland Walker Knight (whom I've never met physically—such is blogging), all of whom had something to say back when I gave my first (and very brief) thoughts on Blood back on November 29. So there's that. In any case, I think Blood is an awesome and complex enough picture that there's no way a discussion of it could be exhausted before it even opens (which I felt was pretty much 100% the case with DePalma's Redacted).

Fascist architecture double feature.

Francisco Rabal, Monica Vitti, the Eur water something-or-other tower, L'Eclisse, Michelangelo Antonioni, 1962

Vincent Price, the Eur water something-or-other tower, Last Man on Earth, Ubaldo Ragona/Sidney Salkow, 1964

I suppose stark mushroom-topped towers spell alienation no matter what genre you're working in. The tower is one of the many wonders of Eur, a southern suburb of Rome the name of which derives from Mussolini's title for his pet architectural/expo project, Esposizione Universale di Roma. Il Duce put up this tower and a bunch of other, um, stark, buildings in the late '30s; the project stalled due to, you know, World War II, and never got picked up again. But some of its remnants lived on to inspire cineastes...

The surprisingly striking and scary Last Man is got yet another stand-alone DVD release this week, hoping to cash in on its second remake, the Will-Smith-starrer I Am Legend. (The first remake was 1971's The Omega Man, which I'll be evaluating in my next Hi-Def Consumer Guide, coming right before Christmas...) If you haven't seen Last Man yet (and as you can see, you've had more than enough opportunities), you really owe it to yourself. Same goes for that Mike Antonioni thing, too...

Palate cleanser...(updated) (and updated again...)

All things considered, we need one...

Unusual Credits #1

From Advise and Consent, Otto Preminger, 1962

A credit that seems even more strangely pointed given the context in which Sinatra's voice, um, appears. I won't tell, because if you haven't seen this utterly fantastic picture yet, you ought to, ASAP.

Foster Hirsch's new biography of Preminger does not, alas, mention this credit or how it was arrived at, noting merely that Sinatra was interested in the part of slimeball senator Van Akerman, which went to George Grizzard. Anybody out there have the lore on this credit? Also—what's your favorite unusual credit?

A career tip for young actors from Mr. Malcolm McDowell.

"I tell you this: if you start your career by showing your dick, you're gonna be stuck with that for the rest of your life."

So Mr. McDowell observes in one of three—three!—commentary tracks on the new three—three!—disc "Imperial" edition of the infamous Caligula. Mr. McDowell, of course, knows whereof he speaks, having got his kit off in his very first film, ...if, and undergone similar exposure in A Clockwork Orange. Perhaps he and Ewan McGregor could commiserate some time.

I didn't think there were any forces on earth or in heaven that could compel me to sit through the mess that is Tinto Brass' 1979 film, but the promise of commentaries from not just McDowell but Queen Helen Mirren herself roused my curiosity. (The third commentary is by writer Ernest Volkman, who, in one head-spinning observation, observes that Penthouse mogul Bob Guccione, the film's backer and defining figure, was prone to being taken advantage of by "hustlers." Bob Guccione.) The troika provide their observations on a non-hardcore, "alternate pre-release" version of the film, I suppose in the interest of dignity maintainence. Mirren's commentary is on the polite side, although at one point early on she compares her experience making the film to an acid trip. Master raconteur McDowell, on the other hand, really lets rip. During the scene pictured above, discussing working with the "game" "sweetheart" Teresa Ann Savoy, the actor recalls, "I do remember though, after one of these orgy things, opening my eyes, and literally her vagina was on my nose."

The whole package is curious, fascinating. Liner notes by one R.J. Buffalo have an almost Video Watchdog-like obsessiveness to them, breathlessly detailing potential alternate versions, passionately advocating a full restoration that might not be possible, and meticulously cataloging gaffes before pausing to observe "A reasonable question is, why bother?" It's as if the movie—a famed "disaster" that actually did make money (although who got to keep the dough is probably anybody's guess)—had become the object of cargo cult worship or something. As such, this package is an essential item for anyone assembling a home library of cinematic anomalies.

After dipping into this mammoth thingie, I spent a little time with the new DVD of Cruising. I always thought that when Paul Sorvino asks Pacino, "Lemme ask you something: Have you ever had your cock sucked by a man?" it would have been great had he answered "When do I start?" Thinking of this, I chortle, and My Lovely Wife asks from the kitchen, "What are you watching?" A typical Friday night in the Kenny household.

A thought for this week.

For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it's the readers who keep pace. The journey may be long or short. Then the Readers die one by one and the Works continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path. Then Criticism dies again and the readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude. To come near the Work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed. Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness. And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man's memory. Everything that begins as comedy ends as tragedy.

—Roberto Belano, The Savage Detectives

Substitute "Filmgoer[s]" for "Reader[s]." Consider the various periods in which Bergman and Antonioni were in and out of "fashion." Discuss. If you'd like.

Good new blogs

Onetime Village Voice critic Michael Atkinson, whose stuff there I found stimulating, inspiring, and infuriating in just about equal measure—that's saying something, no?—has started a blog with the inspired moniker Zero For Conduct. His inaugural post is vintage Atkinson. Check it out, and keep checking.

Mirror/Stage is a less appealing moniker pour moi, as I'm largely a Lacan sceptic, but its proprietor is brilliant and his concept inspired. Trailers from Hell will speak for itself when you check it out. But be sure to come back here!