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.