Psychosexual Tensions: The Great Gilda

It is a film famous for a strip tease, which involve nothing more than the removal of a pair of gloves. It is also the role that became synonymous with Rita Hayworth for the rest of her life. Hayworth famously said of the eponymous role and the manner in which it tainted her public persona, “every man I have ever known has fallen in love with Gilda and awakened with me.” What a role. If only I could be a little more like Gilda. The charisma, overpowering sex appeal, the exquisite singing and dancing, and always a witty barb to throw at her ex-lover. Who wouldn’t want to be like Gilda?

No woman could ever live up to Hayworth’s portrayal of Gilda. Rita Hayworth was a unique specimen in nineteen-forties Hollywood; a shy reserved woman who exploded on celluloid. She became a famous pin-up queen, but was never more beautiful than when she appeared on film when her vivacity and sex appeal were put on display for the world to see. This is most apparent in Gilda.

Gilda, directed by Charles Vidor, is film noir about a borderline homosexual relationship and the woman who destroys it. Glenn Ford plays Johnny Farrell a gambler who meets and makes a close “business” relationship with casino owner Ballin Mundsen. As Mundsen’s right hand man he runs the casino and soon comes to take part in all matters of Mundsen’s life. Until Mundsen brings home a sexy woman from Johnny’s past as his new wife, the aforementioned Gilda. Johnny is torn between his loyalty to Mundsen and his passionate hatred for Gilda. The hatred is mutual, and Gilda spends the majority of the film trying to torture Johnny with the idea of her supposed infidelity towards Mundsen. Of course the usual, intrigue and a Nazi subplot figure in along the way as well, but the film sizzles whenever Hayworth and Glenn Ford interact.

This film has grown upon me a great deal in the time since I first viewed it in a Feminist Film Studies course. I hated the ending and the way it explains away all the behaviors that make the character of Gilda a femme fatale. I couldn’t believe that a woman like Gilda could ever be hooked on a guy like Johnny. And I wasn’t crazy about Glenn Ford. I can now tolerate the ending, and try not to let the lame explanation about Gilda bother me, and have become a real fan of Glenn Ford. He and Hayworth have a combustible chemistry and his Johnny Farrell has become one of my favorite film noir leads. He does a commendable job holding his own against the force of nature that is Rita Hayworth.

The black-and-white cinematography of this film is as beautiful as that in other noir dramas of this period. The set designs, especially the use of ornate wrought iron fencing and carved banisters do a wonderful job of communicating the attempts to confine Gilda, are beautiful. The costume designs, especially Rita Hayworth’s gowns, are exquisite. One cannot forget the sexy dance numbers Hayworth performs, particularly “Put the Blame on Mame,” wherein the famous striptease occurs. The script sufficiently engulfed in hard-boiled language and erotic banter. Gilda is a film of great passion and sensuality.

Gilda is a film noir essential. It is a great psychosexual love triangle whose sexual heat burns just beneath the surface leaving you wanting more. It’s terrific!

Little Wannabe: My Childhood Obsession with The Little Mermaid

From an early age, I would often fantasize about being my favorite characters from whatever film I had recently seen. The most vivid and passionate of which occurred when I was seven-years-old. I had just seen the film that resurrected Disney’s 2-Dimensional animation squad in the late eighties, The Little Mermaid, and had finally found the Disney Princess for me.

Now I have never been a “girly” girl, but I had been know in my younger years to play Sleeping Beauty. I would lie on my bed pretending to be asleep, awaiting my true love’s kiss. Of course, nothing would ever happen; but that pretty well sums up the Disney Princess experience pre-nineteen-eighty-nine. A beautiful girl who was always good and virtuous would have to wait for a Prince or the intervention of some sort of conjurer to get her inevitable happy ending. This is a great message to send out to little girls- very realistic. For me it never completely jived, which is why I never took to any of the “classic” Disney heroines. That and the fact that they were all blondes (Snow White doesn’t count. Keeping house for seven troglodytes is not a recipe for idolization).

That all changed when I entered the theatre and was introduced to the first Disney Princess I could actually relate to. Yes, I had a girl-crush on Ariel. Here was a character that actually got into trouble, was not afraid to talk back to her father, rescues the man, makes a conscious decision to follow her dreams (albeit a man should never be the ultimate goal for any woman, but you can’t win them all) and takes the necessary action to do so. There were consequences for these actions, as there are in real life. Ariel takes a risk and follows her dreams, and by doing so achieves them. And she wasn’t a blonde! I was in heaven.

For months after my first viewing I would go around singing, "Part of Your World". When I would go for swimming lessons I would fantasize about saving whoever it was that I was crushing on at that point and serenading him with my beautiful voice. I was a girl obsessed. It was an arduous wait for the VHS to finally some out, but the day my mother told me she had bought it at the local Video store was the apex of my life at that point.

You know what? Twenty years later, it’s still a fun film. Sure, I don’t watch it every second day like I once did, but it’s still fun to pop in the DVD now and again to relive old memories and watch a sweet movie. The songs are catchy (upon viewings in later life I realize how much I really like "Kiss the Girl"), the colours are vivid, and the characters memorable. This is a fun animated movie that kids and the romantics at heart can enjoy. I know that if I had a daughter, I would rather they idolize Ariel over Snow White or Sleeping Beauty.

Dark Comedy on the Dark Continent: Hyenas

After recent trips to San Francisco, and to Space, and then back to San Francisco again, I have decided to go somewhere completely different in today’s offering. Today we travel to the dark continent of Africa, to the tiny western country of Senegal to examine Hyenas, Djibril Diop Mambéty’s 1992 film based upon a Swiss play by Friedrich Dirrenmatt called The Visit. As you would expect this is a foreign language picture; one well worth the time and effort.  

Hyenas takes place in the formerly prosperous Senegalese village of Colobane. The township learns that a former daughter of the village made-good (Ramatou) is about to visit and the town folk see this as a chance to initiate the influx of cash necessary to restore their former way of life. The town rallies behind the grocer, Dramaan, who had a relationship with Ramatou in their youth, to convince her to bestow a financial gift upon the township. Ramatou arrives to great fanfare. She and Dramaan speak of their past. We learn that they were lovers, however Dramaan spurned her in favor of a wealthier match leaving her pregnant and the town pariah. Ramatou was forced to leave town become a prostitute. We also learn that her child died. She declares that she will become the town’s patroness, if the town folk obey her one demand. Kill Dramaan. The remainder of the film is dedicated to the town’s seduction by consumerism and the decision to carry through with Ramatou’s request to kill Dramaan.  

Through the interplay between Ramatou and the town folk, Mambety makes a subtle comment on post-colonial Africa; particularly the insidious nature of western consumer culture, and the way it took hold of the souls of many Africans after the 1960s. The final shot of this film, bulldozers clearing the obsolete pieces of old Colobane to make way for a brand new city, compounds this message. Like the citizen of Colobane, African are losing the fundamental thing that they so longed for during colonial times- independence and a return to the more traditional ways of life. Although the control is gone, the lingering aspects of western culture particularly the culture of instant gratification through consumerism remain.

By using a simple parable of one man’s life being snuffed out in favor of the luxuries of western culture, a light is shed not just upon neocolonial Africa, but the ludicrous nature of western culture itself. The central problem of film could just as easily be moved to another part of the world and the message would be almost exactly the same. Selfish, wanton desire for whatever the latest luxury or fad that comes our way often takes precedence over the a greater ideal that in the long run would lead to better circumstances; many times these small luxuries come at a cost that few can fathom and often fail to recognize.

Along with razor sharp cultural commentary, Hyenas offers the colorful African vistas and cultural flourishes while exposing western cultures to the realities of life in Africa and the degree of poverty people live in. Though there are better and more affecting depictions of poverty and life in the slums in other films, Hyenas does not make the poverty experienced by the people of Colobane so unbearable that killing Dramaan would be akin to stealing a loaf of bread to feed a starving family. The shades of gray are apparent and the viewer is left to make up their own minds as to what the appropriate course of action would be. Mambety trusts that the viewer is able to make up his or her own mind up and that they will be able to see the sheer barbarism in this situation.

The performances of the actors, particularly the actor and actress who play Dramaan and Ramatou, are all great. The actor who plays Dramaan, Mansour Diouf, is particularly enduring. His character is a man who has most likely mellowed through the passing of years, and whose sentimentality has colored his memories of the past. He comes across as someone’s warm hearted old grandfather, which makes the revelations of his past with Ramatou and the speed at which the town turns on him incredibly heart wrenching. Similarly the direction by Mambety is seamless and he is able to cut through some of the more serious themes of the script to find humor in this dark story. In spite of the dark scenario, many of the scenes involving the townsfolk and their newfound prosperity are played for laughs.

With Hyenas, yes you do have to suffer through subtitles and it is slightly more difficult to find, however it is worth the effort. It is a powerful and entertaining film that explores the darker side of man and the corruption of wealth on a grand scale, in an intimate setting. I find films from different areas of the world incredibly fascinating, and this film certainly fits the bill.

Oh the Glories of Technicolor: Vertigo

The persistent moniker of masterpiece that almost always accompanies discussion of the film, makes it hard to believe that Vertigo was not a critical success back in 1958, when it was originally released. In fact, is was dismissed as far-fetched nonsense back in its day. The people of 1958 didn’t know how good they had it. Vertigo for all intensive purposes is a masterpiece in every way a film can be, and to me stands out in Hitchcock’s expansive filmography as his best and most fascinating.

Vertigo is about a man in love with a illusion. Jimmy Stewart play’s John “Scottie” Ferguson, a detective forced into retirement because of a disabling fear of heights. He is persuaded to anonymously tail an old college buddy’s wife who appears to be exhibiting strange potentially life-threatening behavior. The woman in question, Madeline Elster (Kim Novak), wanders the streets of San Francisco in her green Jaguar inexplicably frequenting places significant to a distant relative who inhabited the city a hundred years ago. Scottie falls in love with Madeline only to tragically lose her when his fear of heights, and the resulting vertigo, keep him from saving her. The loss drives Scottie mad and he is institutionalized, unable to get over his obsession with Madeleine. Once he is released, he discovers a new girl(Kim Novak again) who bares an uncanny resemblance to his dead love and tries to recreate Madeleine.

When I try to think about why this film is so great, my immediate answer is because of how beautiful everything looks. San Francisco, usually a bastion of crime and the bizarre, has never looked more ethereal or dreamlike in film. The way vibrant color shines through the gossamer like mist rolling in from the bay, and the perennially azure skies. If there was ever a reason to advocate restoring old films the 1996 restoration of Vertigo is positive proof. The color is incredibly important in the film’s symbolism for each character, particularly the characters that Kim Novak plays, and the restoration allows it to shine through in all the radiance that was originally intended. The greens, grays, whites, blacks and reds all associated with her two characters particularly play an important role in Scottie’s memories of Madeleine.

Speaking of Kim Novak, one cannot discount the wonderful performance she gives as both Madeleine and Judy, the girl Scottie attempts to recreate in Madeline’s image. Kim Novak, in my mind, is an incredibly underrated actress whose performance in Vertigo only furthers my argument that she was an actress way ahead of her time. There is such a raw naturalism in every move she makes, especially when playing Judy. As Madeleine, she achieves the look and aloof temperament of the perfect Hitchcock ice-blond better than any of his other ice-blonds before or since. The fact that Hitchcock found Novak herself to be vulgar and every bit the antithesis of what he found to be compelling in his ideal females is amazing, given the superb job she does in bringing Madeleine to life. As Judy, she achieves an earnest vulnerability that makes the viewer sympathize with her character’s plight, in spite of her past sins. Every choice that Novak makes is dead-on.

James Stewart is similarly fantastic, playing against the all-American image cultivated in his early career playing Capra-esque protagonists. His Scottie is a tortured, and in many ways, twisted soul who becomes so entranced by the image of Madeleine that he loses all sense of reality and emotional contact with the real people who care for him. It is a remarkable performance and Jimmy Stewart plays the pain, longing, and obsession perfectly, making Scottie both sympathetic and at times unfathomably cruel. It is refreshing to see Stewart play a very flawed character.

Beyond the look and performances of the film, Bernard Herrmann’s score is a piece of great melodramatic and climactic beauty. Easily my favorite of his Hitchcock scores. The interplay at key moments between Hitchcock’s camera and the swells in Herrmann’s score is breathtaking. I am unable to envision any of these scenes without automatically associating the two, particularly the music.

Vertigo is a film that I love dearly. It is difficult to discuss all the ways I adore this film without treading too far into spoiler territory or rehashing the same old clichés that have been too often discussed by others more articulate than myself. When it comes down to the reason that I love this film so much, much of the pleasure comes from asking the question of how different the film would have been had Hitchcock not chosen to reveal what he does, particularly in the third act. Would the viewer react to the film and it’s characters in the same way? It is fun to speculate on the nature of the film’s “protagonists”. Are their behaviors justified? Should we feel the sympathy or lack of sympathy we do for them? I always get stuck in this mental trap every time that I think about this film.

If you have not watched Vertigo, do yourself a favor and watch it. If you’ve only seen it once, watch it a second time. Things become clearer during the second viewing. This is a film that should always been seen twice in order to achieve the full impact of this cinematic masterpiece.

Friday's Guilty Pleasure: Leprechaun 4: In Space

Oh lord, on this inaugural, Friday’s Guilty Pleasure, I’ve decided to drag out one of my favorite old chestnuts. It’s a doozy. Following in the tradition of several other straight to video classics like Critters 4 and Lust in Space: The Erotic Witch Project IV, and directed by Brian Trenchard-Smith in 1997, I give you Leprechaun 4: In Space.

Leprechaun 4: In Space, follows in the long line of Leprechaun films in which Warwick Davis, in full hobgoblin regalia, plays the titular character that decimates his prey through a series of elaborate and increasingly ridiculous means while chasing after his ever-elusive gold. I could have easily substituted any of the Leprechaun movies into this article, but this one in particular hold a special place in my heart as one of the most entertainingly awful films that I have ever seen. It truly is a piece of art. Did I mention that it takes place in space? Well, it does.

Before I get into a semi-detailed plot synopsis, the first thing that I must make absolutely clear is that this movie was clearly conceived by individuals of the male persuasion whose mentality has never matured beyond that of a thirteen year old. I don’t mean this as a bad thing. On the contrary, I think that there are few people who are as creative or would have the audacity to put so many bizarre and gratuitous plot elements in such a quick succession within the 95 minute running time of this movie. My hat goes off to them.

Leprechaun 4 finds everyone’s favorite Leprechaun trying to woo a beautiful space princess in order to gain the greatness and power over the universe that he feels he so richly deserves. Unfortunately, his proposal is interrupted by a platoon of space marines who seemingly destroy the Leprechaun, steal his gold, and rescue the princess within the first ten minutes of the film. This is not before the Leprechaun dispatches one of the marines with a light saber and one of the marines suffers a “burning sensation” while “marking” his Leprechaun kill. Me thinks a certain 3-foot character may be returning.

The marines commiserate on their space ship. Some get drunk, some dance on their space disco dance floor, one of the marines (the one who killed our Leprechaun antagonist, in fact) and the one female marine start to get it on. Unfortunately, that pesky burning sensation comes back and more than just a simple trouser bulge leads to the second coming of the Leprechaun. The rest of the movie is spent watching the Leprechaun dispatch the marines one by one as he searches for his gold with the help of the not so gracious space princess.

Although the plot sounds like a conventional “horror” movie plot (outside of the Leprechaun emerging from a marine’s “swollen member”), Leprechaun 4’s creators have loaded this movie with enough outrageous plot threads to make this an unforgettable viewing experience. For instance, the ship in question where the majority of the action takes place is under the control of the mysterious Dr. Mittenhand, who as it turns out is a head and part of a torso adhered to a mechanical cart. What’s better, is that in a very climatic and harrowing scene (not really) our wee man of the hour injects Dr. Mittenhand with a concoction that contains super alien princess DNA, spider DNA, and scorpion DNA; turning Mittenhand into the aptly names “Mittenspider”. Also, did you know that alien princesses herald the imminent demise of their enemies by walking around topless for their intended victims to see? According to this film they do. Not to be outdone, the marines’ Sergeant gets the chance to queen it up, thanks to having his free will striped from him by the Leprechaun and being forced to dress in drag and perform a sexy song and dance number while attacking his platoon. And this is just a sample of the imaginative scenes that make up this truly unique viewing experience.

I could go on about all of the ways in which this film declares it’s outright originality, however I would like to leave a few surprises for those who decide to watch this masterpiece of crap cinema for themselves. The performances are appropriate for the type of film that this is, Debbe Dunning being the only name outside of Warwick Davis that I recognize amongst the obscure cast. The special effects are decent for a movie made in 1997 for a budget of 1.6 million dollars. There’s little else that I can say about the technical merits of the movie, it’s straight to video and the quality is as you would expect.

At the very least, Leprechaun 4 is an experience like no other. If you appreciate unbridled creativity at it’s most perverse than you really should see it.

Day One- The Conversation: Coppola's Fourth Masterpiece of the '70s

If anyone had told me six years ago, when I picked up the in descript box for Francis Ford Coppola’s 1974 film The Conversation, that I had discovered the film that has unwaveringly stood atop my list of most beloved films ever since, I would have laughed. In fact, I dreaded watching this film, at the time. The title, plot synopsis, and the VHS box artwork of a grainy, silhouetted illustration of Gene Hackman wearing headphones and a pair of somewhat humanoid figures drawn to resemble Cindy Williams and Frederick Forester left much to be desired. The only reason I had begun what seemed to be a mammoth undertaking at the time was because it was required viewing for the introductory film studies course I was enrolled in at the time. The first hour and half were a laborious task that required my highest level of perseverance. I kept on thinking to myself, what the hell is this? Why the hell am I watching, Gene Hackman’s, Harry Caul visit a professional surveillance person’s conference? Harrison Ford bakes his own Christmas cookies? But, in the final fifteen minutes, I had an epiphany. The previous hour and forty minutes all became clear and I knew that I was experiencing a film that was truly brilliant. This may have been the most purely unbiased and completely neutral film viewing I have experienced. I knew no one who had heard of The Conversation, no one to tell me it was a great movie or that it was terrible and boring. I suppose, if you are reading this than you will never have that kind of experience with this film. At any rate, I think this is a perfect film.

The Conversation was the film that Coppola directed in between The Godfather and The Godfather  II. According to legend, the story for The Conversation first came to Coppola in the mid-sixties but it was not until he had the huge financial and critical success of the first Godfather film that he was able to finance the film. The Conversation is a character examination of Harry Caul, a socially withdrawn ace surveillance professional who’s personal and professional mantra is that other people’s business is none of his business (and likewise he protects every aspect of his life from the scrutiny of others). Harry is tasked to record the conversation between a young couple that have met in a busy San Francisco square. What starts as a partially garbled relatively asinine conversation taken from several elaborate sound recording devices based in sniper rifle microphones and microphones hidden in common ordinary objects like brief cases and shopping bags, comes together in Harry’s capable hands. However, the final recording reveals that someone may be in mortal danger. Harry must decide if he is going to act upon what he knows.

The genius of this film mainly lies in the fact that we experience everything from Harry’s point of view, or more accurately what he hears. We follow him explicitly through the initial process of recording this conversation, through the construction of the final tape and it’s revelation’s aftermath. The conversation is played over and over again; each time we hear it, we get an additional spin on how Harry is interpreting it. Sound is everything in this picture, and I would be remiss if I did not give full props to the great Walter Murch and his brilliant sound design which drives the film through it’s labyrinthine examination of Harry Caul’s life and the downward spiral it takes as a result of this conversation. Just as Harry unscrambles the previously inaudible portions of this conversation, the audience learns more about Harry himself, and the secure world where his privacy is fiercely protected is slowly obliterated.

In my mind, the reason this film stands out so much in Coppola’s 1970s renaissance, is due to the fact that is so different from the Godfather films and Apocalypse Now. The Conversation is an exercise in minimalism. The story is a simple one. There is no gratuitous violence. The sets and cinematography, although used very intentionally to illustrate Harry’s psychological state, do not call attention to themselves. The score is made up of a simple yet haunting tune on the piano. The performances are subdued, especially Gene Hackman’s.

Gene Hackman has easily become one of my all time favorite actors, because of his performance as Harry Caul. In contrast to some of the other more bombastic roles that I had become accustomed to seeing Hackman in, Harry Caul is all about restraint and stoicism. He let’s no one in. Once his veneer starts to crack instead of acting out in an emotional or explosive way, his anxiety and shame play out in his face. He regresses to the young, weak child he once was. It is a revelation to see Hackman go through this transformation and the subtly he brings to it. The supporting cast featuring Robert Duvall, Teri Garr, John Cazale, Frederic Forrest, Harrison Ford and Cindy Williams are similarly fantastic.

If you are a lover of film I highly recommend watching The Conversation. It seems like a chore at first but it really does have an outstanding pay-off in the end. If you are interested in Walter Murch and his editing work, I would highly recommend The Conversations: Walter Murch and the Art of Editing Film by Michael Ondaatje.