Tons O' Celluloid

Originally posted 15 December 1999

Movies: Georgy Girl, To Sir With Love, Sweet and Lowdown, All About My Mother, Liberty Heights, Boys Don\'t Cry, Anna and the King

I have been so busy going to the movies lately, I haven't had time to write about them. In order to catch up, I left early from a meeting of the Transportation Committee of Community Board 7, which I had attended because they were hearing comments on saving the farmers' market that is imperiled by impending construction at the 72nd Street IRT station. (When I left, the committee was passing a resolution to re-route traffic in a pattern favorable to the market--but not without voluble grousing and dissent from the cadre of old Commies attending the meeting, who were not only on a first-name basis with all of the Board members, but who were the most obstructionist, immature crowd I have encountered since the sixth grade, when my friend Emily and I lobbied the principal's office staff to lower the flag to half-mast in recognition of John Lennon's untimely death.)

PSA: As you read today's scribblings, don't forget that you can comment on the films discussed or the reviews themselves in the comment section below.

So. Two Tuesdays ago, my neighbor Rich and I headed down to the Film Forum to meet up with my friend Matthew and check out that evening's Columbia Archives double bill: Georgy Girl & To Sir With Love. Georgy Girl, made in 1966, is one of Lynn Redgrave's very first pictures. She's pretty delightful in it, and it's a groovy British comedy, *very* much of its time. Fortunately, that means serious shoe action. Unfortunately, the period has no implications for dogs (a mangy one is seen very briefly) or for explosions. Matthew, Rich and I all gave it one thumb up.

The second movie that night, To Sir With Love, is a 1967 Sidney Poitier film, and it's a total winner. Although it follows nearly every cliched convention of the accidental-schoolteacher-and-the-undisciplined-students narrative, the movie is oddly--even stunningly--unselfconscious. It remains tough and fresh more than thirty years after it was made. With frank dialog about race rarely seen in movies today, glorious color cinematography, excellent shoes and a solid soundtrack (sung by Lulu, who is in the movie), this flick does an exceptional job of overcoming few dogs and no detonations. Matthew, Rich and I all gave it two thumbs up.

Two Fridays ago, I went to see Sweet & Lowdown with mes amis Erik and Stephanie. The latest from Woody Allen, which has one of the least memorable titles I've recently forgotten, is flabby. Allen can't decide if he wants to make a mockumentary or a straight story, and the picture suffers for failing to fully embrace either style. Allen is one of the "experts" interviewed on the life of the main character, and he's such a good storyteller, his brief snippets make you long for more of his physical voice.

Happily, the movie has wonderful sets and gorgeous costumes and very dreamy, delicious cinematography. And Sean Penn is decent. But he could play a self-destructive alcoholic in his sleep, so that isn't too stunning. James Urbaniak has almost no lines (which tends to be true of his characters even when he is the lead). Samantha Morton does a terrific job as "Hattie," a mute woman whose omnipresent hat nearly steals the whole picture. I adored her hat. The movie is mostly about her hat, in fact.

Here's how Sweet and Lowdown scored on a scale of 1 - 10 in my categories of analysis:

*Gender: 4. Eh.

*Race: 4. Way better than most of Allen's movies, which don't tend to rank well in this category. There are a number of black characters in the movie, nearly all of them jazz musicians or female relatives thereof. There is one black jazz expert, too.

*Shoes: 4. The shoes were good, but other parts of the costumes were excellent.

*Dogs: 2. There is one dog lazing on the floor during a talent contest scene.

*Do things blow up? 0. Not so much.

*Interesting side note: 10. During one of the street scenes, I noticed in the background a J. Milstein Millinery (!). Naturally, I wondered how they had come up with that name. Then, during the credits, I happened to catch a set dresser named Jessica Milstein. When I got home, I went directly to the Internet Movie Database and looked up Milstein. There are 10 Milsteins listed on imdb.com (!). I am not one of them, and I didn't recognize any of the others (especially not Henri or Pablo Milstein), but I was impressed by the list nonetheless.

Sweet and Lowdown's central theme of the misunderstood and disconnected genius is undercut by the fact that Penn's character doesn't seem like a genius. He's an asshole--and I'm certain that lots of prodigies are assholes--but he fails to be convincing as a brilliant musician. In discussing the film afterwards, Erik and I disagreed on this point. At one point, our argument caused Erik to declare, "Sarah, you ignorant slut!" We all had a good laugh. You might have one or two if you go to see Sweet and Lowdown, but don't count on more than that.

The next night, Rich and I went to see Pedro Almodovar's new flick, All About My Mother. Rich insists on sitting on the aisle in theaters, and as you know, I insist on sitting in the center (fifth row, ideally; no farther back than seventh or eighth if there's some kind of an emergency). Every time Rich and I go to a movie together, we walk down the theater aisle and suddenly remember our rather grave incompatibility and have to negotiate a compromise that makes neither of us happy. Thank god we were the first people on line to get into the theater for All About My Mother, or we might never have resolved the seating issue for this film. Settled about a third of the way in on the fifth row, we were both able to enjoy the movie, which is well worth a couple hours of your time.

Here's how All About My Mother scored on a scale of 1 - 10 in my categories of analysis:

*Gender: 10. Nothing is assumed about any of the characters' relationships to masculinity or femininity. Top-notch acting makes for a three-dimensional and thought-provoking cast that can humanize offbeat personalities.

*Race: ?? As I've noted in previous SMOs, this is a hard category to evaluate in foreign films because I don't generally know what the racial issues are in the movie's country of origin or in that country's film industry. There might have been racial undertones to some of the characters' interactions in All About My Mother, and I totally missed them. But everyone seemed pretty much white and some form of middle class to me.

*Shoes: 4. There were a few decent pairs of shoes, although overall, the clothing was more interesting. The domestic Spanish interiors were stunning, and if you are at all inclined towards fetishisizing wallpaper, tiles or furniture (and I don't think I need to name names here; you know who you are), you really ought to run right out and see this flick.

*Dogs: 5. A fluffy mutt plays a nice, albeit somewhat sappy role. I shudder to think of the shedding associated with that dog.

*Do things blow up? 0. Nope.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll be awed by the wall coverings. Go see All About My Mother.

The very next evening, I went to see Liberty Heights with my friends Tania and Adam. Liberty Heights is the latest from Barry Levinson, whose diverse list of directing credits includes Diner, The Natural, Tin Men, Rain Man, Avalon, Bugsy, Wag the Dog and Sphere, among others. Liberty Heights is an interesting addition to this list. It's a small, personal movie--essentially Levinson's memory of growing up Jewish in Baltimore after WWII. Although the film doesn't go anywhere with the stories of various family members, it does have enjoyable elements. In particular, the acting of newcomer Ben Foster stands out, and his story (as the younger son) is the most interesting. The cinematography is also notable, having the decided quality of childhood memory. Adam and I both found the sets to be reminiscent of our (Jewish) relatives' houses when we were growing up.

Here's how Liberty Heights scored on a scale of 1 - 10 in my categories of analysis:

*Gender: 3. So so. Because the movie is largely autobiographical, it's hard to quibble with the fact that two brothers and their father are the main characters in this movie. I do, however, have to wonder about the roles of many of the female characters. For the boys and men in this movie, women seem to represent a way to stay identified as Jews or to assimilate into a predominantly gentile culture. Many of the women thus wind up more symbolic and two-dimensional than real, and the central female WASP is a particularly stereotyped figure. It's unclear whether Levinson realizes this and is trying to give a boy's-eye view of the relations between men and women, or whether he has no idea how he's using the female characters. Also, burlesque strippers figure rather prominently in the visual aspect of the movie, but have no clear role in the stories.

Race: 5. The movie tangles with relations between WASPs and Jews, as well as between Jews and blacks. While I was glad to see these topics taken up, the movie doesn't show us anything new or challenging. And it really runs into trouble with cartoonish characters, such as a small-time black con, and a slew of predictable, WASPy college students.

Shoes: 4. Some okay footwear, plus shoes play a pivotal role in one tense scene.

Dogs: 0. None.

Do things blow up? 0. Nyet.

Liberty Heights is not going to knock your socks off. But it won't make you rue the existence of Hollywood, either. See it on a night when you just feel like watching a movie.

Last Friday, I went by myself to see Boys Don't Cry, a beautiful and devastating (and somewhat fictionalized) account of Brandon Teena's last few months of life. This is a highly unusual film in that it dares to give an unflinching and sometimes unflattering portrayal of all its characters, including the main one. As a result, there is nobody who is entirely sympathetic in this movie, and the movie is often difficult to watch. But a complex main character allows the side characters to have greater dimension, and the story is rich. The acting in this film is outstanding, supported by intimate filming and a great soundtrack. There's not much in the way of shoes. There are no dogs and no explosions. But I recommend Boys Don't Cry for certain.

Finally, last Saturday, my neighbor Ilene and I went to see Anna and the King, which is a terrible movie. It has the worst screenplay imaginable and a slew of stupid premises. I had forgotten that the movie tells the same story as The King and I, and about halfway through Anna and the King, I thought, "This would make a much better musical than a straight story." And I was right, despite the fact that I haven't seen The King and I in years, and I don't remember it well. If you're a big fan of Hammerstein's version, be forewarned that my analysis of Anna and the King stands pretty much independent of its relationship to the musical.

Anna and the King's leads, Jody Foster and Chow Yun-Fat, are two of my all-time favorite actors. I genuinely think Chow is the only actor working today who could readily play a suave and credible James Bond (albeit an Asian one). And JoFo is, well, somebody I'll blissfully watch in just about any crap. Nonetheless, after the movie, Ilene and I were left wondering how these two people could possibly have made such a dreadful flick. Didn't they read the script before signing on?

Despite its genteel setting, Anna and the King, with multiple beheadings and other assorted on-screen violence, is not a movie for young children. (With such poor story elements and appalling dialog, it's not really a movie for adults, either. But that's another matter.)

On the bright side, there's a lot of dazzling fabric everywhere, and Chow wears exquisite costumes. Also, there's an incredibly carved watermelon, and the sets are very grand. I thought the scenery mostly looked like Hollywood does 19th Century Siam--that is, Disneyland versions of the site (it is a small world, after all). But Ilene really liked them, and for all I know, Disney architecture is based on 19th Siamese palaces.

Here's how Anna and the King scored on a scale of 1 - 10 in my categories of analysis:

*Gender: 3. Jodie Foster plays a strong-willed schoolteacher with an unmistakably feminist approach. While her independence is fun to watch, her character bludgeons you half to death with earnest sensibility. The movie is just trying way too hard in this category, though it manages to conveniently ignore the feelings of the king's many Siamese wives.

*Race: 2. At least the Asian characters are played by Asians. (Although only in Hollywood do you get an American playing a British schoolteacher, and a Chinese man playing a Siamese king.) As far as race relations are concerned, think colonialism.

*Shoes: 1. Hardly anybody wears shoes that you see, and many of the actors are barefoot all the time. More notable are the hairstyles, which seem ridiculous. I doubt 19th Century Siamese slathered up their hair with high-end mousse and Stiff Stuff, presaging East Village looks by 100 years.

*Dogs: 0.

*Do things blow up? 7. Towards the end of the film, there is one thoroughly awesome explosion of a bridge that nearly redeems the rest of the movie.

Ilene and I saw a "sneak preview" of Anna and the King, which seemed to be basically a screening for Academy members so that they can vote on it for the 1999 Oscars. Since neither Ilene nor I is an Academy member, we paid to get in (along with a handful of other fools, who have not yet had the opportunity to be turned away by what will surely be scathing reviews). The screening was at the Ziegfeld, which is New York City's largest theater (it's *big*), and which uses a reserved seating system.

With this system, you identify a general area of theater in which you'd like to sit, and you get specific seats you must sit in (like a play). When I ordered our tickets over Moviefone, I said we wanted to sit in the front third of the theater, in the center section, towards the middle of the row (not on the aisle). Our seats turned out to be about halfway back (which is approximately a full city block from the screen in the Ziegfeld, no exaggeration), in the center section but on the aisle. I was dismayed (to put it mildly), and I found myself twitching with anger over the system. Ilene gamely tried to distract me with stories of a job she'd had 20 years ago. But I was miserable, and it got worse once the movie started and we *really* seemed far from the screen. Anna and the King did nothing to mitigate my pain.

Adding insult to movie-watching injury was the idiot who sat behind us. He enjoyed the movie, and he commented on it loudly and constantly to his partner. I swiveled around several times and gave him steely glares, but these worked only briefly. Ilene was positively impelled to suck in her breath and grab my knee at each of this guy's most annoying little remarks. Afterwards, we couldn't decide if the movie or the audience had been the worse experience.

In sum, Anna and the King sucks. Given the fact that it was directed by Andy Tennant, a guy whose credits include an unaired episode of a TV version of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, this is not much of a surprise. With all due respect to Chow Yun-Fat and Jodie Foster, don't go see this film.

Do, however, comment on any of today's reviewed films, or on the reviews themselves, in the comment area below.