Tea and Sympathy...and how the "ideal" male has pretty much reversed

I first came across the play Tea and Sympathy last year in theatre class and promptly forgot about it until I went on one of my usual hour-long treasure hunts on Youtube, where I found the 1956 film version with Deborah Kerr. Nobody plays a concerned/conflicted mother figure better (just watch The Innocents) so that alone attracted me. Once I began the movie, though, something else intrigued me altogether: the reasons Tom is brutally bullied and how fantastically dated those reasons are.

The main story follows Tom, a 17-or-so boy at an all-boy's boarding school who is teased for his lack of traditional masculinity. Now, here's the thing: instead of enjoying football and goosing the cute waitress Ellie, he plays acoustic guitar, sings beautifully, writes poetry, wears sweaters and goes on long walks. Oh, and here's the clincher: he dreams of being a professional folk singer. Does that not sound like the sort of guy who'd be marketed as adorable and "a catch" these days? Just take a look at some more recent movie hearthrobs. Tom Hansen (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) from (500) Days of Summer, Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera) from Juno, Andrew Largeman (Zach Braff) from Garden State, the list goes on. Anyway, Tea and Sympathy is beyond fascinating with that comparison in mind. The guys who push Tom around seem less like "the norm" and more like the jerky meatheads who would end up being the butt of every joke in a modern romantic comedy. 

(By the way, Tea and Sympathy is by no means a romantic comedy or in any way comparable to the studiotastic indie romances I mentioned up there- my comparison begins and ends with the portrayal of normal/desirable masculinity.)

And that, my Lolita, is the only immortality we will ever share.

Lolita is my favorite book. It has been since I first read it, and possibly even before that considering the bizarre amount of research I did prior to reading it. No other work of fiction has had the same disturbing effect on me; that is, to sympathize with and even love a protagonist so despicable and pathetic as Humbert Humbert. And although my intense love for Lolita makes me something of a purist when it comes to interpreting and appreciating the book, I have no qualms with the liberties the brilliant Stanley Kubrick took with his 1962 adaptation of the novel. 

For one thing, Nabokov himself penned the screenplay. And never have I seen a film slip past the censorship codes of the time with such mischievous ease (everything from Lolita's summer retreat, "Camp Climax", to her unintelligible whispering into Humbert's ear about the "game" she and Charlie played is full of innuendo). The cuts away from the assumed action between Lo and Humbert never hinder; in fact, they follow the book, which like the film is always far more suggestive than it is explicit. Of course, Kubrick deviated quite a bit from Nabokov's final draft of the screenplay, but the nasty fun and spirit is all there. 

As a reader, I often forgot that the book was something of a tragicomedy and spent many teary afternoons lingering over the passages near the end in which Humbert proclaims that "I was a monster, but I loved you" to his doomed nymphet. The film's undeniably snappy and absurd humor (represented perfectly by Peter Sellers's tic-infested portrayal of Clare Quilty) alerted me to all the funny subtleties of the novel that I had pushed aside in attempt to wallow in Humbert's misery. The Humbert that Kubrick creates is undoubtedly more sophisticated than everyone else in the film, but some of the funniest moments come when he finally loses his cool: think the frantic drink-fixing scene as he (James Mason) hollers his reassurance to Charlotte (the always energetic and endearingly pathetic Shelley Winters) that his diary is in fact fiction and not a real record of his highly immoral (not to mention illegal) lust for her daughter (Sue Lyon).

It's hard to say who the MVP of the film is, considering the brilliance of the entire ensemble. It's a well-known fact that Peter Sellers was one of the only actors Kubrick ever allowed to improvise, and his line delivery is perfectly inane ("You've got the most normal lookin' face I've sort of evah seen"). I've had a thing for Sue Lyon ever since seeing Night of the Iguana, where she plays a similar role opposite a very troubled Richard Burton, and she didn't disappoint here. I greatly appreciated her refusal (and, presumably, Kubrick's) to turn Lolita into a stupid little coquette who deserved her fate; this Lolita is not a pedophile's innocent delight but a young lady struggling to grow up in peace. 

Basically? I recommend it.

And once again, a shameless plug for my very talented friend Michael: !http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2C2HNLKui

5I

My very favorites, ladywise

If you have read this blog at all, you'll be aware that I favor several actresses over others, for whatever reason. Here are my favorites, complete with noms/wins (for those of you who don't know, I have my own Oscars for every year including my own nominations and wins...nerdy enough for you?). Bold/asterisks denote wins.

1. Sandy Dennis

1966 Best Supporting Actress (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?)*

1967  Best Actress (Up the Down Staircase)

1969 Best Actress (That Cold Day in the Park)*

1977 Best Supporting Actress (Nasty Habits)*

1982 Best Actress (Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean)*

STILL NEED TO SEE: Thank You All Very Much, The Fox, Sweet November, The Four Seasons, The Out-of-Towners, Another Woman, The Indian Runner

2. Allison Janney

1999 Best Supporting Actress (American Beauty)

2002 Best Supporting Actress (The Hours)

2007 Best Supporting Actress (Juno)

STILL NEED TO SEE: Drop Dead Gorgeous

3. Catherine O'Hara

1990 Best Supporting Actress (Home Alone)*

1996 Best Supporting Actress (Waiting for Guffman)*

2006 Best Actress (For Your Consideration)*

STILL NEED TO SEE: Penelope, A Mighty Wind

4. Madeleine Sherwood

1958 Best Supporting Actress (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof)*

1963 Best Supporting Actress (Sweet Bird of Youth)

STILL NEED TO SEE: Wicked, Wicked, Hurry Sundown, Pendulum, The Changeling, Resurrection

4. Natalie Wood

1961 Best Actress (Splendor in the Grass)*

1961 Best Actress (West Side Story)

1963 Best Actress (Love With the Proper Stranger)*

STILL NEED TO SEE: Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, Rebel Without a Cause

A plug, and why I haven't seen anything worthwhile in ages

Firstly, I'd like to introduce everyone reading this to a hilariously dark short film that my best friend directed, wrote, edited and shot. It's called "The Principal's Office", it's at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXSrG9DM-t8 and it is worth your time in every way. All 4 minutes and 18 seconds, anyway. It's really impressive, especially considering it's his debut feature and was made in an unbelievably short amount of time.

Second, I haven't updated in eons because of school, which has up and taken over my life completely. I've seen a few movies, though, few of which were worth watching:

Parrish: Karl Malden is great, as is Claudette Colbert...and the rest of the cast (save my darling Madeleine Sherwood, in all her 30 seconds of glory) is bland as the day is long. Following the story is as boring and tedious as watching grass grow, and  practically the same considering it's all about some tobacco farm . 

Paranormal Activity: Yes, it was genuinely scary. Not pee-your-pants frightening or anything, but what can be when there's a guy in your audience shouting hilariously obscene things at the screen every time the demon comes?

Taking Woodstock

Things that SEEM TO ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO HAPPEN IN MOVIES INVOLVING WOODSTOCK OR ELSE: all hippie girls swaying around with their eyes half closed, the word "beautiful" used to describe absolutely anything, cops getting softened by nice hippies, skipping.

And, of course, Taking Woodstock includes all of these, sometimes to an annoying extent, but there are certainly some lovely aspects to it. Emile Hirsch stands out most-- he plays a broken-down fellow just back from 'Nam. He rises above the script's limitations ("kfksjdfsjk MAN, ashkdfakd MAN, you know MAN, adhdkja") and gives the audience a glimpse of a real, hurting human as opposed to an anti-war plot device. Imelda Staunton is also wonderful as Demetri Martin's mother. She plays a fiercely paranoid Russian Jew, and a lesser actress would've let the character become nothing more than a cheap stereotype. Staunton, however, does not judge her character and lets the audience make their own decisions about her.

Some might go into the movie hoping for a raucous celebration of sex, drugs, and Woodstock's brand of rock'n'roll. The music is heard from afar (the main character never actually attends) and the sex and drugs are certainly there but not without a sense of humor. The marketing, unfortunately, did rev audiences up for a film revolving around the music itself. It's simply not the case: the story is Elliot Tiber's, and the conflicts are between he and his parents and his surrounding small town, not the hippies and the mainstream. Go in knowing this, and it's definitely enjoyable enough.

Obscure Sandy Dennis/Altman stuff not on DVD

It's always an absolute, heart-stopping delight when I discover that a movie I've been long searching for has made its way to Youtube. This has happened lately with Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean, That Cold Day in the Park and Summer and Smoke. The first two, being Sandy Dennis (my favorite actress) vehicles, saved me from spending enormous dollars just to get ahold of some old VHS tapes on Amazon. 

Five and Dime is almost incomprehensible as to the actual specifics of the plot. But as is often the case with Altman, there is no need to fully "get" what is going on action-wise-- all that matters is that you observe, care for and listen to the characters. I had no trouble doing this, with Dennis doing her beautifully neurotic "thing" and Cher being right on target, as well as an impressive (and very pretty) Kathy Bates. Oh, and "Sincerely" is stuck in my head right now.

That Cold Day in the Park is certainly one of the more unsettling films I've seen lately (which says a lot, considering I've just finished with In the Company of Men and The Baby). Sandy plays a psycho of the quietest type here, with one gorgeous monologue and several other standout moments; the plot is delightfully original.

Movie characters with style

Yes, I can see now.

Lady on a Balcony by Rainer Maria Rilke

Suddenly she steps, wrapped into the wind, 

brightly into brightness, as if singled out, 

while now the room as though cut to fit 

behind her fills the door  

darkly like the ground of cameo, 

that lets a glimmer through at the edges; 

and you think the evening wasn't there 

before she stepped out, and on the railing 

 set forth just a little of herself, 

just her hands, -to be completely light:

 as if passed on by the rows of houses 

to the heavens, to be swayed by everything.  

Underrated performers I am obsessed with

1. Madeleine Sherwood. If she has any claim to fame, it's playing Mae in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I was intrigued by her the moment she came onscreen- she was playing one of those supporting roles that don't look like much on paper but, when handled by the best, can have a chance to steal the show. I caught Ms. Sherwood next in Baby Doll, where (uncredited, by the way) she plays an ornery nurse-- again, she stood out amidst a powerhouse cast. She is also my favorite part of Sweet Bird of Youth, with her perfect abandonment when she screams or when she dances around in her "present" for Ed Begley's southern political boss. Now that I've seen the "big three" as far as films Madeleine has been in, I'm ready to sit through endless amounts of crap just to see the lady with the huge forehead kicking the ass of various tiny roles.

2. Colm Feore. He's not AS obscure as Madeleine. This guy gets tiny roles in crap mainstream movies where he always manages to shine. I first discovered him in Titus as Marcus Andronicus and then managed to hunt down a version of 32 Short Films About Glenn Gould with Japanese subs. You could say he's mannered, but it totally works. He's a true stage-to-screen actor, fleshing out his characters' traits in full and making the most of every line and moment.

3. Susan Egan. I first realized how much I loved her when I was thinking of who else could have played Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction had Uma not been on the scene. I remembered that Meg from Hercules had been played by some lady with the deepest, snobbiest, coolest voice ever-- I looked her up, and there she was, and I maintain that she would be my second choice for the iconic role. She's more of  a stage actress, having played Belle in the original Broadway cast of Beauty and the Beast. And when someone's "more of a stage actress", that often means their work is not in high demand filmwise. I sat through the abominable Meet Market just for her adorable performance and am seriously considering rewatching Gotta Kick it Up just to get a glimpse of her again. 

4. Deirdre O'Connell. I've only had the pleasure of seeing this lady in Eternal Sunshine and Synecdoche, New York. She is probably the definition of underused-- if she can steal the three last minutes of Synecdoche next to the great Philip Seymour Hoffman, that says something about her talent. She is also heartbreaking as the spurned wife in her minute or so in Eternal Sunshine; I do wish she would pop up more often. 

5. Betty Lou Holland. If anyone HAS heard of her, it's because they know her as Kim Stanley's mother in The Goddess, where she is undeniably brilliant. Upon seeing the film I rushed to IMDB to see what else this gem had been in, and unfortunately I found basically nothing. Not even any notable stage work. She does appear in the documentary The Needs of Kim Stanley, which I want to see ASAP; otherwise I've not much chance to catch her in anything else.

It don't worry me

Oh, I've seen quite a few movies this summer, but none of them have sucked me in and made me not check the time every five minutes quite like Nashville. I've just recently been bitten by the Robert Altman bug (the first I saw of his was 3 Women). His work is endlessly fascinating, and Nashville is no exception: it is in full-swing "Altman mode" (overlapping dialogue, huge ensemble, parallel stories). Here, I saw everything I had taken for granted as essential to a good film (solid plot, snappy screenplay, developed characters) turned upside down, and I am grateful for it. 

I read once that of all famous directors, Altman probably has the most respect for his audience. He doesn't bother explaining away all the questions because he knows we can do it ourselves. Dialogue is realistic. Actually, Nashville occasionally felt more like a documentary; the lines between reality and fiction are blurred even more when Elliot Gould and Julie Christie appear as themselves. We leave the film with countless questions (was Barbara Jean okay? Why did he shoot? etc.) that a lesser director would have answered in a tight little ending scene. The frayed ends, though, complete the film's "slice of life" feel. 

And, of course, the actors themselves: Lily Tomlin is as beautifully understated as can be, Barbara Baxley is a truly unique and frail presence, Keith Carradine swaggers through the film wonderfully and everyone else, long story short, is good too. When you're in an Altman ensemble film, you really have to pave your own way into the audience's memories: there is nothing baity in the script, and creating the character is solely up the actor.

Please don't avoid this film if you're one of those who "likes all kinds of music except country". The music here is quite often more heartfelt, meaningful and melodic than anything you're likely to hear today: look out for "I'm Easy", part of my favorite scene. 

Rear Window

I could go on a several paragraph rant about how Rear Window is one of Hitchcock's best, how awesome of a year 1954 was with this coming out along with On the Waterfront, how Jimmy Stewart was unbelievably attractive, and how cute the dog was. But a won't. Actually, this will probably be somewhat lengthy seeing as it is one of the giants of 50s cinema (and cinema in general for that matter). In that case, the first few sentences of this post were irrelevant.

There's no denying there was something misogynistic about the way Hitchcock handled his female characters. Dated as it may feel, I think the direction he took with Grace Kelly's "female intuition" was a smart--and necessary-- move. This woman is not meant to be the equal of the man she loves: she is supposed to show the audience just what Jeff is missing by not marrying her. And it works. What audience doesn't want Jeff to come to his senses and take advantage of the fact that he has goddamn Grace Kelly throwing herself at him? On a more serious note, Hitchcock's misogyny really takes a backseat once Lisa becomes instrumental to catching Thorwald. She's the one with the hardest of evidence (the wedding ring) and the guts to run up a fire escape ladder in thousand dollar dress. 

It's interesting to think about the titular window being watched by the neighbors. This is touched on in that lovely (and chilling) shot where Thorwald and Jeff finally make eye contact, but for the rest of the film it seems that Jeff is the only one in the neighborhood who cares...or is a Peeping Tom. I'm not going to get into all the modern-day implications of Jeff's actions ("does the government have the right to snoop?!?!?!") but they certainly explain some of the film's continual appeal.

Background noise is prevalent throughout the film. We hear a neighboring songwriter playing the piano, a woman singing scales, and "Miss Torso" chattering to her elderly company ("wolves", as Lisa puts it). These sounds remind us that Jeff's apartment is not separate from the others, really: everyone is in earshot. "Love thy neighbor".

Waiting a million years...just for us

I first learned about Picnic at Hanging Rock from the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die (which I've been glued to for two years) and was instantly intrigued. I finally saw it yesterday after several failed attempts on Youtube. 

On a visual level, the film takes the old "nature encroaching upon mankind" story to a whole new level. We see several shots of a beautiful St. Valentine's Day cake being devoured by ants. Later, there is a similar series of still images of Miranda, Irma, Marion and Edith napping amongst lizards, ants and flies. A red light nearly consumes Edith as she runs screaming down the mountain. Peter Weir hints that whatever happened to the girls was something far more sinister and mysterious than a kidnapping or even rape or murder ("I have examined her, and she is quite intact," the doctor quietly tells the college staff of both Edith and Irma). 

All around are images of beauty: the ethereal Miranda washing her face in a basin filled with flowers, Mademoiselle des Poitiers reading about Boticelli's The Birth of Venus, and a swan swimming alone. The doctor describes Irma's injuries in great detail-- he speaks of torn and ragged fingernails and bad bruises on the head-- but we never see them. The scene of the ants eating the cake is almost shocking, as it follows tableaux of the beautiful, delicate young girls lounging. Obviously, these different sorts of images provide contrast between the beauty and the beast that swallowed it. Is there anything more? I'll have to think on it.

Away We Go

I will be the first to proclaim my hatred for hipster scum. Twee little soundtracks to the likes of Garden State and Juno do not interest me. I have disdain for those who claim to have "food babies". All of these preferences (or lack thereof) SHOULD have made me dislike Away We Go. But no-- this film is the victim of false marketing, of ads catering to quirky college grads, and it is actually the best movie I've seen in theatres so far in 2009. 

For one thing, the cast is a dream team. Catherine O'Hara, Allison Janney, and Maggie Gyllenhaal-- three of my favorite working actresses-- get the chance to be off-the-walls hilarious. I'm no SNL fan but I certainly appreciate Maya Rudolph's grounded talent. John Krasinski is delightful. And it's always nice to see Melanie Lynskey pop up, now that she's grown up and not killing her mother or anything. Sam Mendes, who I've come to expect little from, lets his ensemble do their own thing, which is an unbelievable breath of fresh air from the overplayed arguments of Revolutionary Road in 2008. 

The screenplay is devoid of snobby references to Truffaut, monkey fruit or Nietszche. I am eternally grateful. The audience actually gets a chance to get to know the characters, from the straight-faced leads Rudolph and Krasinski to batshit crazy Gyllenhaal and Janney. I left the theatre having caught a glimpse of the very real hopes and dreams of a very likable couple-- not with an intimate knowledge of a fictional character's taste in music.

Well-played, Mr. Mendes et al. 

Oh, and if you're skeptical because of the hipster advertising, don't be. John Krasinski wears polo shirts and khaki shorts throughout the film and there are no Shins songs to be found. Rest assured that your pretentious-ness factor will not go up. 

Fandango

I've used this handy site for quite a few outings to the movie theatre in the past several years. Why?

1. No risk of getting carded. 

2. It's useful for getting into any showing in Evanston, which will inevitably be sold out on Saturday nights thanks to Northwestern hipsters.

3. I usually forget I bought a ticket, so I bring $20 to the theatre only to realize I can spend it all on snacks.

4. It gets rid of any need to get to the movie ahead of time (or on time at all).

5. It makes me look smarter than my friends who didn't Fandango at a sold-out showing (à la Away We Go last night)

Taking a look at the ladies of Synecdoche, New York

Catherine Keener certainly never disappoints, not even when she has little to do, and she certainly has little to do here. She's never phony and her natural body language is a welcome contrast to the other young ladies Caden interacts with. 

Samantha Morton has the most screen time. She's got a very unique presence, to say the least. I can imagine a lesser actress infusing the role purely with sexuality and desire, and thank god Morton does not. She makes Hazel likable, even sympathetic. Her nasal voice and almost cute speech patterns add some layers as well. 

I was most excited for Michelle Williams and was quite impressed with how she played Claire. The character veers from tolerable to unbearable for the audience; luckily, Williams handles Claire with empathy and without judgment. Her scenes with Tom Noonan are particularly affecting.

The more I think about the film, the more I remember Emily Watson, who at first didn't make that much of an impression on me. Now, though, the image of her naked and beckoning "Pretty Caden" to bed is stuck in my head. She really took a nothing part and used it to her advantage. Oh, and who would've guessed that she and Samantha Morton look so much alike?

Dianne Wiest. Beautiful. Always.

I was also delighted to see Deirdre O'Connell work wonders with another tiny part. Love her, love her, love her.

Hope Davis more than does her job. 

I think it's safe to say that the ladies in this film rise above what could have been mediocre material to work with. Nice job, everyone.

I've watched you forever, Caden, but you've never really looked at anyone other than yourself.

Synecdoche, New York. One of my most anticipated of 2008 that I never saw. It got polarized reviews; "one of those films you either love or hate," I would hear. I neither love nor hate Charlie Kaufman's directorial debut. I'm pretty unfamiliar with Kaufman in the first place. I've only seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and about a third of Adaptation., which was enough to inform me of the utter self-loathing that crawls under his genius, which is certainly a key part of Synecdoche. (A synecdoche, by the way, is "is a type of metaphor in which the part stands for the whole, the whole for a part, the genus for the species, the species for the genus, the material for the thing made, or in short, any portion, section, or main quality for the whole or the thing itself or vice versa", according to http://www.virtualsalt.com.) It's tough to watch the film without connecting Caden (played by the brilliant Philip Seymour Hoffman) to the author. Yeah, yeah, you're not supposed to judge the art by the artist, so I'll refrain from making any judgments about the film based on my opinions of Kaufman himself. 

I think that had I watched the film with any clear expectations (dreck, masterpiece, etc.) I would have been sorely disappointed. I was, actually, sorely disappointed by the first two acts; not only because it was slow but because I was seeing nothing new. Mismatched married couple, check; cute daughter, check; dreadful separation for which the wife is the one responsible, check; prospects for affair, check. Thankfully, the promise shown by the cast, the score (repetitive yet profound), and the writer/director blossomed into several gorgeous final scenes. The end of the film, starting with Hazel and Caden's long-awaited reconciliation, contains all the poetic emotion and gauziness of a play by Tennessee Williams (certainly not that of Arthur Miller; Caden's adaptation of Death of a Salesman is almost comical earlier on). This is certainly helped by the presence of Dianne Wiest, one of those actresses that kids my age like to refer to as "the nice lady from Edward Scissorhands". Her very voice reminds us, the audience, of the theatricality of the whole movie that is a result not of Caden's project, which has less significance than the moods and relationships it influences.