1983

Zelig.
Premiered July 15th, 1983.
Directed Woody Allen.
Staring Woody Allen, Mia Farrow.
Music by Dick Hyman.


Before I start, I recommend you open this link and listen to this while you read the review below.

   
     You can't do a marathon of 80's movie reviews without mentioning at the very least one Woody Allen film. He's one of the most prolific filmmakers ever, and his hay day was in the late 70's/early 80's. I'll address the elephant in the blog right now. I believe that what Allen does in his personal life is a) none of my business and b) has no bearing on the art he produces. If we rejected the art work of people who did immoral things, we'd lose so much great work. The subject matter he depicts in his films has nothing to do with what he's been accused of outside of them, so I don't see a problem in enjoying the work he does. Any way, here's what I got from one of his lesser known but equally brilliant films, Zelig.

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     Everyone's a little insecure. Everyone. Some people are more so than others, but some are so concerned with their insecurities and being accepted by their peers, that in order to blend perfectly, they become whoever surrounds them. This the plight of Leonard Zelig (Allen), the human chameleon of the 20's and 30's. When he's introduced to a new group of people, he takes on their thoughts, feelings, accents and even appearance in order to be liked. This film follows his relationship with  Dr. Eudora Fletcher (Farrow). She's a psychologist who's fascinated by Zelig's condition, in who's company Leonard assumes the characteristics of a less educated but still convincing psychologist (exampled in this scene). She ends up becoming an activist for his care, taking him on as a patient at her home when his position at the hospital is threatened. During the course of treatment (with the end goal of discovering who Leonard Zelig actually is and breaking his chronic adaptations), they fall in love. The film ends in a wedding. That's all I'll give you plot wise.

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     It's important to mention that the film is a mocumentary. It's a fake documentary. It uses actual film and photos from the time as well as new and altered materials. All the new content, however, was recorded on authentic cameras and microphones from the time in which the film is set in order to match the film qualities between new and old material. Woody used a different D.O.P. (director of photography or, more commonly, cinematographer) than he usually does, and that's most likely due to the unique photographic requirements of the film. The technical focus was to match the new footage to the old stuff and to have someone who understood the old technology, hence the change for his usual D.O.P. Sven Nykvist. The stylistic effect is very convincing, so, good call, Woody. This scene here is a good example. Almost all of the footage in this bit is new. There are only a few vintage shots. You can hardly tell the difference (other than the fact that you know Woody Allen and Mia Farrow were not alive in the 20's). Fun fact: the film contains about 7 or 8 seconds of the F. Scott Fitzgerald writing on a wooded backdrop. It's the only footage of him ever taken.   

     Woody Allen and the 1920's/30's were made for each other. He outlined the relationship a lot of us have with the past perfectly in his 2011 film Midnight in Paris. Everyone wants what they can't have. We often even want time that has passed and that we never experienced. Look at the 50's revival that happened in the 80's. Or the 80's revival that's happening right now. I have a theory that everything works in 30 year cycles (but that is a theory too long to explain at this time. Seriously, it's really long and windy. It's my own theory, and I stand by it, but I don't even like the way I explain it). Anyway, Woody has this long standing love affair with the time setting of this film, so it's only fitting that this is where he puts his story. A lot of the music in the film is original composition, and of course, you'd be hard pressed to identify that it wasn't recorded in the 30's. In this clip, you see that they make a really convincing case that Leonard Zelig was an actual cultural phenomenon.

     Of course, the film is funny. My god, the film is funny. It has the same brand of wildly intelligent and also ridiculously out-of-left-field humour that Allen employs so masterfully. The whole story concept is funny, but it's loaded with little throwaways that would dash right past you if weren't paying attention. There's a scene where they describe Leonard's reaction to a certain kind of treatment. He's so traumatized that he won't speak, and for days, he won't come down from off the wall (cut to a shot of Zelig standing horizontally on the wall, refusing to come down). Throughout the course of the film, you get gems like the following: The Narrator describes Zelig's public reception racially; "The Ku Klux Klan, who saw Zelig as a Jew, who could turn into a Negro and an Indian, saw him as a triple threat." The Narrator also has this to say about Leonard's life growing up; "As a boy, Leonard is frequently bullied by anti-Semites. His parents, who never take his part and blame him for everything, side with the anti-Semites." The whole quote that this is embedded in is here.

     The film, in my opinion, ultimately makes a really smart and important statement about the lengths a person will go to in order to hide who they are for fear of rejection. I was also toying with the idea that there could be a statement about the lives of Jews in Allen's experience. It's never been popular to be Jewish, and maybe he himself felt that at some point in his life that that was an important thing to cover up. Leonard is able to come out of shell and be himself by the end of the film, and that finally allows him to be happy, which suggests the message includes the notion that you've got to be happy with yourself before you can be truly happy with anyone else.


7.8/10. A veritable laugh riot with some seriously impressive technical techniques used in the most effective ways possible.


     Films to mention honorably this year are Local Hero (very"stranger in a strange land" charming, very Scottish), Flashdance (she is a maniac on the dance floor),  The Hunger (every Bowie is a sexy Bowie, but vampire Bowie? Come on. That's just too good), Valley Girl (featuring a young and, defying all logic, beautiful Nicolas Cage), Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence (a still sexy Bowie, just in Japan in the 40's this time), and I can't stress enough how important this film is, The Big Chill (a perfect cast featuring Jeff Goldblum, William Hurt, Glenn Close, Kevin Kline, Mary Kay Place, and an as of yet unknown Kevin Costner as a corpse , a script that's funny, sad and sophisticated all in one fowl swoop, and a house that is out of this world beautiful. What more could you honestly want?). And that is only a few among so many others. 83' was a very good year, as far as I'm concerned.


Peace,
Gang.

1982

Tootsie.
Premiered December 17, 1982. 
Directed by Sydney Pollack.
Staring Dustin Hoffman, Jessica Lange, Teri Garr, Charles Durning, Bill Murray.
Music by Dave Grusin.



     I was about 6 or 7 when I saw this film for the first time. I was smitten immediately. I don't throw the word around often, and I would certainly never use it lightly, but in all seriousness, this is a masterpiece (and I'm saying that objectively. Weather you enjoy it or not, it is undeniable that this thing is solid gold).

     The story follows Michael Dorsey (Hoffman), an actor living in New York with his play-write roommate Jeff (Murray). While he's very talented and commits to his work like none other, it's that commitment that makes him extremely hard to work with (exampled in this conversation with his agent- who is played by the director). He thinks that if he pretends to be a woman he'll be more successful getting work, and sure enough, he lands a part on a hospital soap opera entitled Southwest General. Dorothy Michaels, his female alter-ego, becomes wildly popular with the show's audience, Michael falls in love with his costar Julie Nichols (Lange) and hilarity and heartfelt complications ensue as he tries to juggle two lives at once.

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     It's hard to believe that in 1982 they made a film about a man who wears woman's clothing for a purpose other than being funny. I don't know if you've noticed, but when men dress in drag, it's usually to get a laugh (think of every sketch Bugs Bunny has ever been in). I think it has to do with the idea that women are lesser, and to think that a man would lower himself to the level of appearing as one has to be funny. He can't seriously want to be a woman because who would choose a position so worthless? It's unfortunate, but this is the thought process of most audiences, even now. You might not even notice that that's how you're reacting, but the next time you find yourself laughing at a man in woman's clothing, try to identify why. In the context of the film, they make damn sure you know that Micheal is straight so that there's no hint of potential homosexuality anywhere near him (this is only 1982 after all). But other than that, the way Michael portrays himself as Dorothy, she is a character with just as much depth and complexity as any other. Micheal isn't doing this to make fun of Dorothy or anyone else. For him, this just another acting challenge.

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     Technically, the film is solid. Not particularly stylish, but nicely put together. The editing is superb. Very tight. There's a beautiful scene featuring this song that was written for the film by Stephen Bishop (that made it into the top 40 list in the U.S.). The scene depicts Dorothy up at Julie's dad's farm. Julie invites Dorothy up there when they get a weekend off. The whole thing is very dreamy and sun-kissed as Julie rides around on her horse and Dorothy is stuck with Julie's daughter Amy. At first, this prospect proves uncomfortable, but Dorothy starts settle and becomes affectionate with Amy. This is important because earlier in the film, we see Michael reject the introduction to a friends baby at his surprise birthday party. This comfort with Julie's daughter not only shows that Julie is becoming an important presence in Michael's life, but also that this experience as Dorothy is changing Michael as a person and rearranging his priorities. In the beginning, Michael had to separate himself from Dorothy because she had to develop her own separate characteristics, but it's impossible to be two people at once without some cross over, and Michael deliver's one of the smartest lines in film towards the end of film that paints the effect that Dorothy has on him perfectly; "...I was a better man with you, as a woman...than I ever was with a woman, as a man." Hoffman recently did an interview about the production of this film. It's here. I highly recommend that if you only watch one thing in the rest of your life, it should be this. .

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     We should take some time to send a huge shout out to Dustin Hoffman. With the help of a couple of friends who happened to be producers, he developed one of the funniest, smartest, and sweetest dramas in our film history. This film meant so much to him, and it comes out in every line and every look and every gesture. He had a story to tell and a message to send, and by god did he ever do it well. He needed to say to the world that the experience of women is an important one, and when you disregard the respect they deserve, you disregard 50% of the brain power that could change the world.


10/10. No faking. This is a perfect film.


     Honorable mentions from this year include but are not limited to The Best Little Whore House in Texas (I've said it before, I'll say it again, Dolly Parton is amazing. This film-overt sexism aside- is mandatory viewing. Also, Burt Reynolds dances), Sophie's Choice (the Streep just can't be beat), Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, we are not worthy. And Shawn Young's hair should have won all the awards that year) and Diner (a dream of a cast featuring a young Kevin Bacon and a still beautiful Mickey Rourke- pre "my face has been through a meat grinder" years). A special shout out to Franny and Alexander (prepare to be moved to tears by awesome Swedes).


Peace,
Gang.

1981

Pennies from Heaven.
Premiered January 1, 1982.
Directed by Herbert Ross.
Starring Steve Martin, Bernadette Peters, Christopher Walken.
Music by Ralph Burns, Con Conrad, Marvin Hamlisch, Billy May.


     In 1934, Chicago and the rest of North America is still reeling from the Depression. Arthur Parker (Martin) sells sheet music and has a sexually unsatisfying relationship with his wife Joan. He longs to start his own business selling records, and with the money Joan's father left her when he died, he could do it. but she refuses to invest it in his plan. Arthur looks for a bank loan, but is refused (and this adorably out of place thing happens). He heads off to sell his wears when he meets Eileen (Peters), a plain but beautiful school teacher. He falls in love with her. One thing leads to an other, she gets pregnant, loses her job and because he won't support her, becomes a prostitute. He, on the other hand, opens his record store, kind of mends things with his wife, is accused of murder, and ends up on the run with the now world weary and cynical Eileen.

     This film was originally adapted from an English mini series that ran in 1978 (which is equally good if not better). It blends a devastating depression-era story with musical numbers set to similarly aged music. The juxtaposition between the two makes for a unique understanding of the characters and the time they live in. At this point, there were people in America literally starving to death. But the upper classes were living so well still that most of them hardly noticed the difference. And the music being produced at the time didn't help that disillusion. It was all painful positive and worked awfully hard to dispel (or at least mask) the very real sadness that encapsulated the lives of so many.

     There's a really effective use of color palate. In sections of the film depicting reality, the whole scene is dull and washed out. There's almost a haze like dust hanging in the air (maybe because no one was able to grow crops and everything was actually really dusty).  When the musical numbers start up, and often out of nowhere, the plate brightens and sparkles (here is a perfect example). This proves a lovely physical analog for the contrast between the nature of their real life and that of their dreams. On that note, the costuming is incredible. The dress pictured above that Eileen dons in the middle of one of her lessons is only the tip of the ice berg.

     While it is technically beautiful, the film relies heavily on production design in conveying it's grandiose appeal. Herbert Ross is less the auteur than other directors, as most of the work he's done is choreography for Broadway productions (so his style is more evident in the dance present in the film). The unique nature of the film is derived more so from it's twisted take on a musical, the performances delivered by the cast (particularly Bernadette Peters), and the fabulously choreographed and edited musical numbers (I'd like to draw everyone's attention to this).

     I haven't talked about it yet, but editing is king. Editing can make or break a film. Loose editing ruins the illusion of film just as much as seeing the boom mic dip into the frame, in some cases. In this scene (pictured to the left), the editing is so important. While it certainly does rely heavily on the dancing talent of Chris Walken (who knew?), it would be nothing with out sharp cuts in exactly the right places. Particularly when he goes from dancing in front of the bar to leaping onto the pool table is the editing really stellar. Film is a little like writing in that sense. Nobody would want to read something with unnecessary commas and flabby, untrimmed sentences, just the way no one would want to watch a scene with long shots that should have been short and a fade out that should have been a hard cut.

     Boiling it down, this film outlines what it's like to never deal with anything. The main character Arthur spends the whole film externalizing his fear of committing by applying blame to those around him. He could be happy with his wife if she would only be more enthusiastic in the bedroom. He could open his dream shop if only he had his wife's money, and then if only the bank would give him a loan. He could be a rich man, if only every time it rained, it rained pennies from heaven.


8/10.


It's time for the honorable mentions. Coming at you are such stellar titles as Raiders of the Lost Arch (a big collective sigh for Steven Spielberg's directorial style and Harrison Ford's chiseled face/body combo), An American Werewolf in London (actually a really good film. It's about monsters, but it's really smart cinema),  and Absence of Malice (because Sydney Pollack is the bomb diggity).


Peace,
Gang.

1980

The Elephant Man.

Premiered October 10th, 1980.

Directed by David Lynch.

Staring Anthony Hopkins, John Hurt, Anne Bancroft.

Music composed by John Morris.

     In 1862, a baby under the name of Joseph Merrick was born. For his first few years, he was a happy, average child, but it soon became clear that he'd be one of the first individuals to suffer from neurofibromatosis type I under the suspicious and tightly wound thumb of England's Victorian era.  Joseph's affliction caused groups of cells throughout his body to grow rapidly, randomly, and exponentially.  His resulting figure was rather shocking (the actual Merrick is pictured below). Rejected by his family and not doing well in school, he joined a workhouse at 17. A few years later he made a proposal to a showman to put his disfigured form on display and this man, Sam Torr, gave him his most infamous title, The Elephant Man, and traveled Europe with Merrick. After his days in the show circuit he spent the rest of his life under the care of a doctor Frederick Treves at the London Hospital. He became quite popular in London high society, but was never accepted by the general public. He died in 1890 at the age of 27. 

     If any of you have ever seen a David Lynch film, you probably know what it's like to drop acid without actually dropping acid. While technically well educated and adept in the use of those technicalities, he operates on a whole other level. This film for instance opens with Lynch's classic impeccably produced industrial soundscape over abstract shots of elephants, all shot in black and white (as the whole movie is). It then starts to cut in brief shots of a woman in white, clearly in distress. It’s made apparent that one of the elephants has knocked her down and she lets out a heavily distorted, almost animalistic mechanical scream. This corresponds with the story that was told at freak shows to explain John's deformities. They said that at four months of pregnancy, his mother was toppled by an elephant somewhere in uncharted Africa. This, naturally, was false. After a few more shots of "Where the hell did that come from?" and "What exactly am I looking at?", Lynch settles on Dr. Treves' (Anthony Hopkins) first encounter with John Merrick (John Hurt) at one these "freak shows". 

     The film consists of fantastic wide dolly shots on exteriors and equally wide locked shots on interiors. It is decidedly less abstract and surrealist than any other Lynch film I've come across. There are several scenes with unnecessary construction or machine work, because Lynch just can't get enough of those mechanical background noises, but it still works. It doesn't feel forced. The black and white is beautiful, the darks being very dark and the lights being almost blown out. The costumes are impeccable. They're mostly all black, save for Merrick's mother and Treves' wife, dressed all in white, who is one of the first women to be kind to Merrick, a display that brings him to tears in the Treves' parlor. The lighting used in hospitals at that time were thinly caged open flames fed by a network of pipes carrying coal gas. This provides a presence of lighting so physical that the lights seem to embody characters in their own right, while also providing a lush warmth to the stark black and white of the scenes.

     Special consideration should be given to the team of make-up artists that made John Hurt's appearance in this film possible (Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt to the right). His mouth had to be obstructed to the point where his speech resembled that of the original Merrick. There's a scene where Treves attempts to get Merrick to speak. When he's finally successful, his diction needs some work, but in the end he manages quite well. I imagine that was an accurate depiction of what it must have been like to have to learn to speak under the constraints of that mask. A big high five to Hurt for being able to deliver an above par performance under a mask that was not only physically heavy, but carried a character with it burdened by the fear and limited education of his generation. 

     While the story is mostly accurate to the actual life of John Merrick, there is an exaggeration of the mistreatment he experienced in the freak show business. While his managers definitely made more money than him, he received a salary and was treated fairly well. When he moved to the hospital, the differences were better living conditions and better general health, as well as being better received by the general public. 

     The final scene, too, is not entirely accurate. It depicts him in the middle of the night finishing the model church he's building throughout the film (which Merrick did actually build. To the left is John Hurt standing in front of said church), and lying down to sleep "like normal people". Based on the size of his head, he couldn't sleep lying down because his neck would break and he'd suffocate, so he always slept sitting up with his legs drawn to his chest, resting his head on his knees. It's exposed fairly early in the film that to sleep like a normal person is something he'd like to be able to do. So when he knows that his health is deteriorating, he decides to do just that. That is the way they depict it in the film, but the actual Merrick died in the middle of the afternoon. The official cause of death was asphyxia, but Treves believed that he elected that route as a final feeling of normality. This scene in the film is by far the most moving. As it begins, Barber's Adagio for Strings comes in and plays through to the end. Then it gets a little weird with the final few shots of what looks to be space maybe and a woman who is supposed to be his mother, probably there to remind us that we've been watching a David Lynch film this whole time.

     8.5/10. A quality piece of film making, full of great performances, fabulous production values, and a huge heap of killer cinematography. Also, this trailer should give you a pretty good idea of what it looks like, although the trailer itself is not super wonderful. Just humor me.

     I'd like to now introduce you to the honorable mentions category of these reviews, because in every year there are lots of good films (and if I had time to review them all, believe me, I would). I'd like to recommend 9 to 5 (because Dolly Parton is amazing), The Blue Lagoon (because Brooke Shields has the best eyebrows I've ever seen), and Flash Gordon (because Queen).

Peace out,

Gang.