Withnail and I

It's been a while since I enjoyed a film this much. It's quirky and smart; I squawked all the way through, until the touching scene at the end, which caught me by surprise. Set in 1969 London, it's about two struggling actors, friends and roommates, who decide (possibly because their filthy kitchen is harboring vermin, or because of lack of sufficient food and booze) to escape to Uncle Monty's house in the country for a much needed holiday.

Perfectly cast, and brilliantly acted by Richard Grant and Paul McGann, who play the roommates, and Richard Griffiths, marvelous as the intellectual gay, Uncle Monty. It's surprising Grant did not receive much deserved recognition for his role as the arrogant, condescending Withnail, who somehow manages, at the same time, to be quite adorable.

The film plays out well because of director Bruce Robinson's deliciously dry, quotable lines. There are so many, and they fly so quickly, that each viewing will only get better. Also, great retro music throughout. It's now officially on my favorite films shortlist. This is one I'm going to want to watch over and over. I give it two woolly socks up, even in 90 degree weather.

"We've gone on holiday by mistake."

I seriously need Withnail's Jag...patina and all...

rumor has it

Do yourself a favor and add The Criterion Collection edition of The River, 1951, to your Netflix queue. The film adaptation of Rumor Godden's novel by director Jean Renoir (son of the famous artist), is a lovely coming of age story of three young women, set in India on the banks of the Bengal River.

One of the things I like most about this movie, is that it plays like a mix of documentary and drama.  The cast is a blend of actors and non-professionals, which gives it a wonderful "real" quality.  It's also obvious that Jean inherited his father's artistic eye.  The film is flush with the sensual colors of India and many scenes look as if they might have been lifted from one of his father's paintings.

Rumor Godden

The Criterion Collection copy of this film includes an added treat: the 1995 BBC documentary of one of my favorite authors, Rumer Godden: An Indian Affair, a gorgeously filmed biography of the author, told as she journeys back to her childhood home in India, three years before her death at age 90.

She published 70 books, among them 21 novels. A number were big sellers, several were made into films, including my personal favorite, Black Narcissus. Four have remained continuously in print since they were first published.

Godden's is a world of nuns and sinners, ballet dancers and one-legged soldiers, the British, the Indian and the Eurasian in the middle. Her novels are both intensely funny and deeply moving. Next time you're at the library, pick up one of her books. You will thank me.

lord love a duck

my rubber ducky

What does "lord love a duck" mean, anyway? The only person I know who says it, is my dear uncle, who calls me "Duch", (not Duck), short for Duchess and makes me laugh until I can't breathe.

Speaking of laughing, was anyone else wacky enough to watch Lord Love a Duck on TCM Wednesday night?  It's a spazzy 60s satirical comedy, starring Roddy McDowall and Tuesday Weld, sort of a cross between Beach Party and Dr. Strangelove. It's my kind of quirk and it certainly lent its fair share of giggles.

Of all sources, the Oxford English Dictionary surprisingly notes just one, James Joyce's Ulysses. Remember this time last year, in honor of St. Patrick's Day, overtaken by my Irish DNA, I dived head first into the book, pledging to read it from cover to cover, only to come up gasping for air?  Although it has some gorgeous language, I shelved it, deciding it was much easier to read the most tasty passages singled out, online. Anyway, apparently T. S. Eliot used the phrase, "lord love a duck", as well as P. G. Wodehouse. Since it has been used a lot in inoffensive situations,  it is doubtful it is a euphemism for the F-word.  It also should be noted that "duck" or "ducky" has been used since the 16th century, when referring to a dear one, or sweetheart.

So, duckies, it all boils down to this: it's a quirky phrase to say, when nothing else seems to fit. I like that.

"...shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

--James Joyce, from Molly Bloom's soliloquy, Ulysses 

kitchen stories

Kitchen Stories, 2004, is my kind of film; quirky, thoughtful, and bittersweet. It's inspired by a 1950s group of Swedish researchers sent to Norway for a study of kitchen habits of middle-aged bachelors, ultimately  used to design efficient kitchens. The analyst, perched in a hilariously high chair, like a tennis umpire, observes in the corner of the kitchen, under strict instructions not to interact with his cantankerous subject. Eventually, the men break the rules and end up forging a touching relationship.

The quiet, understated humor of this gentle little film, had me giggling at first, then laughing out loud.  Some might see it as an allegory of a totalitarian regime, but I think it's really just a theme of simple human nature and friendship. Do yourself a favor and add this charming flick to your list before winter is over; it's set with a stark, snow-laden backdrop, perfect for this time of year. Wear woolly socks. Eat popcorn. Laugh.

très bizarre

That's the effect of living backwards, the Queen said kindly: it always makes one 

a little giddy at first--Living backwards! 

Alice repeated in great astonishment. I never heard of such a thing!

--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both ways.

I'm sure MINE only works one way, Alice remarked. 

I can't remember things before they happen.

It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards, the Queen remarked.

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass

illustration from Ces Gens Qui Passent by Andre Gerard

I don't understand synchronicities, but they happen to me quite often, usually visiting in groups of threes.  Do these meaningful coincidences randomly land in our laps, or are we tuned into a certain subject and therefore take note?  I'm not sure, but I think it's fascinating. They certainly grab my attention. Does it mean my memory works both ways? I like to think so.

One morning last week, for instance, it all started at my local Goodwill store, when I spotted a quirky little French conversational textbook, Ces Gens Qui Passent (The People That Pass), 1951, by Alice and Paul Langellier. I loved that it was full of delightful pen and ink illustrations by Andre Gerard. It was only $1.50, so I scooped it up and popped it in my bag.

Later that same afternoon, my daughter texted to say she had arrived safely in Paris for a visit with friends. For dinner, that evening, totally unplanned, mind you, I made a spur-of-the-moment delicious rustic French chicken recipe from my new I Know How to Cook book, by Ginette Mathiot. (Stay tuned for the recipe later this week.)

Afterwards, we turned on Turner Classic Movies and The Lavender Hill Mob, also made in 1951, by the way, was playing. It's a charming little film by Ealing Studios, about a timid bank transfer agent (Alec Guinness) who plans a gold heist and arranges for it to be melted down into Eiffel Tower souvenirs.  There's a fabulously silly film sequence of Guinness and Stanley Holloway, his cohort in crime, dizzily running down the steps of the Eiffel Tower, still spinning when they reach the bottom.

Last, but not least, shuffling through the mail, I spotted a red Netflix envelope.  Inside was a film I added months ago, Shoot the Piano Player (Tirez Sur le Pianiste), 1960, a casual, but magical French film, with lots of excellent acting and a great musical score. Ahead of it's time, I think. I'm adding it to my favorites list.

All in all, I had a very lovely, however très bizarre, French day.

my suggestions for long winter nights

Next to fall, winter is my favorite season. So, it goes without saying that I love dark, wintry, snow-laden movies. You know, the kind that make you deliciously shivery and burrow down into the sofa. Here's a list of my favorite frosty films for the season of nights that are extra long and dark.  Keep in mind, woolly socks and a warm woolly throw are necessary accoutrements.

Wild and woolly wintry epics:

Doctor Zhivago, 1965

David Lean's winter wonderland makes me run for my furry Zhivago hat, gives me a longing for a sleigh of my own and to dive into those great pools of Sharif's eyes.

Hamlet, 1996

Kenneth Branagh directs and stars in this gorgeous epic.  I love to lose myself in this wintry world of Shakespeare.

Reds, 1981

Warren Beatty's epic drama about American Communist John Reed and his relationships with both the Russian Revolution and a writer named Louise Bryant, portrayed by the wonderful Diane Keaton. There's nothing like Russia for winter.

Dark, snowy films, full of the white fluffy:

Smilla's Sense of Snow, 1997

Based on the bestseller by Peter Hoeg, this is a moody mystery that becomes a somewhat overblown, schlock thriller in the second half, but Julia Ormond plus snow is a winning combo in my book.

Onegin, 2000

Martha Fiennes masterful film version of Pushkin's poem Eugene Onegin, a melancholy tale of lost love, starring Ralph Fiennes and Liv Tyler. Gorgeous film. It's one I pop in on a regular basis.

Pelle the Conqueror, 1987

A poignant Academy Award winning film about a Swedish widower and his son who emigrate to Denmark in the late 1800s to find work and a better life. Max Von Sydow is brilliant, giving the performance of a lifetime. 

The Widow of St. Pierre, 2000

Set in 1849, on the Island of Saint Pierre off the coast of Canada, this French film is a human drama of love, sin and redemption. Wonderful performances by Juliette Binoche and Daniel Auteuil. Directed by one of my favorites, Patrice Laconte.

Orlando, 1992

Tilda Swinton stars in this lush, sexy and wickedly funny film based on the gender-bending novel by Virginia Woolf. I asked Santa for this one.

Snow Falling on Cedars, 2000

Based on David Guterson's bestselling novel, set in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, it's the story of a young fisherman who was found dead in his own nets. A Japanese American war hero is accused of his murder. Director Scott Hicks paints the story like a gorgeous watercolor.

Birth, 2005

In this dark, suspenseful film, Nicole Kidman becomes convinced that a ten-year-old boy is the reincarnation of her dead husband. Delicious Hitchcockian overtones.

A few of my favorite Christmassy flicks:

The Thin Man, 1934

I adore the sparkling chemistry of William Powell and Myrna Loy in this three-martini mystery comedy, the first of a delightful series. This one's set during the holidays.

An Affair to Remember, 1957

Cary Grant, at his debonair sexiest, and Deborah Kerr meet on an ocean liner and fall in love. Though each is engaged to someone else, they agree to meet six months later at the Empire State Building, but a tragic twist of events prevents the meeting. Make sure you have a box of tissues handy.

Meet John Doe, 1941

A Frank Capra masterpiece about a journalistic publicity stunt that turns into a national movement. Barbara Stanwyck is incredible, as well as a stellar cast, including Gary Cooper and Walter Brennan.

A Christmas Carol, 1951

Alistair Sim is my all-time favorite Scrooge. Hands down. Everyone needs a generous dose of Dickens this time of year. God bless us, every one.

The Bishop's Wife, 1948

Cary Grant is the dreamiest angel ever sent down by the prayers of a new bishop David Niven, but it's Monty Woolley, in the role of the professor, who I fall in love with every year.

wings of desire

I can't believe I had never seen this amazing film. Joe, (check out his delightful poetry at his blog,  A Pocketful of Poesy) suggested it to me last week, and I immediately added Wim Wender's Wings of Desire, (Der Himmel über Berlin),1987, to my Netflix queue.  When the opening credits stated it was part of The Criterion Collection, I knew I was in for a special treat, although I wondered how anything made in the 80s could be part of this prestigious group of films.

After seeing this phenomenal piece, you will realize the shallowness of Hollywood's cheesy Meg Ryan/Nicholas Cage remake, City of Angels. Yes, it's the romance of an angel-turned mortal, but so much more. It's a beautiful epic, like one continuous piece of poetry, paired with fabulous imagery and an evocative musical score. Filmed in lucent, luscious, silvery grayscale, peppered with bits of random color, this is a masterpiece thanks to the brilliant work of the legendary French cinematographer, Henri Alekan. It truly is a look at Berlin through the eyes of an angel. Take my word for it, this is a film well worth owning, since like any great piece of art, it can be watched again and again. I'm adding it to my Christmas wish list. Oh, and by the way, please feel free to toss your copy of City of Angels.

la crème de la crème

By now, you know autumn is my favorite season of the year, so it's no surprise that many of my favorite films happen to be leaf strewn or just exude that delicious autumnal mood. So, I've comprised a little list of fifteen of my personal fall faves, so get out those woolly socks, my friends.

A few school flicks, all heavy on the foliage:

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, 1969 

Maggie Smith is fabulous as a headstrong school teacher in 1930's Edinburgh, who ignores the curriculum, preferring her over romantic view. She won an Oscar for this role.

Dead Poet's Society, 1989

Robin Williams is an English teacher who inspires his students to love poetry and seize the day. He's the kind of teacher everyone should have, at least once.

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, 1962 

Tom Courtenay plays a rebellious youth sentenced to a reform school for robbing a bakery and rises through the ranks through his love of running.

That magical Autumn-in-New-York thing:

Hannah and Her Sisters, 1986 

Between two Thanksgivings, Hannah's husband falls in love with her sister Lee, while her hypochondriac ex-husband (you guessed it, Woody Allen) rekindles his relationship with her sister Holly. Did you know much of this movie was filmed in Mia Farrow's New York apartment?

You've Got Mail, 1998 

Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, business rivals, fall in love over the internet. Actually, this is a modern version of The Shop Around the Corner, 1940, starring Jimmy Steward and Margaret Sullavan. Nora Ephron's screenplay pops.

The World of Henry Orient, 1964

Two adventurous 14 year old girls chase a mediocre concert pianist, hilariously played by Peter Sellers, around Manhattan. This is an under-rated gem.

Breathtaking autumn epics:  

Days of Heaven, 1978 

Richard Gere is a farm laborer who convinces his girlfriend to marry the rich, but dying farm owner, to claim his fortune. Lush, dreamy photography. I need to buy myself a copy this fall.

Legends of the Fall, 1994 

An Epic story of how nature, war, history and love effect a father and his three sons in the remote west of the early 1900s. Anthony Hopkins, Brad Pitt, Aidan Quinn, and Julia Ormond. Gorgeous movie.

Dark, rich and romantic:  

(woolly socks are mandatory here)

Brief Encounter, 1945

David Lean's dark love story. Quite possibly the most romantic movie of all time, starring Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson. By the way, these two delightfully pair up again 35 years later in Staying On, 1980.

Un homme et une femme, 1966 

A Man and a Woman. Sexy and hip. I adore this movie, lots of fun 60s cars and clothes. You know the song. Dabadabada-dabadabada...

I Know Where I'm Going, 1945

Wendy Hiller plays an ambitious English woman, who while traveling to marry a wealthy industrialist on the Island of Kiloan, Scotland, is trapped on the Island of Mull in bad weather, and falls in love with a young naval officer.  I watch this one in EVERY season, woolly socks, or not.

Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, 1992 

Although I love the 1939 Laurence Olivier/Merle Oberon version, this one starring Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche is my favorite. Binoche's soliloquy, at the open window, looking out across the moors, is brilliant.

The End of the Affair, 1999 

Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore play doomed lovers in a war torn London. This is the second steamy film adaptation of Graham Greene's great novel. It was made into a movie earlier, starring Deborah Kerr and Van Johnson in 1955.

Lots of leafy fun:
(put on the popcorn)

The Trouble With Harry, 1955

Hitchock's kooky macabre comedy, set in an autumnal village in Vermont. This is Shirley MacLaine's film debut. I also adore Edmund Gwenn and the wonderful Mildred Natwick.

Sleepy Hollow, 1999 

Johnny Depp as Icabod Crane, ala Tim Burton. Lots of great prosthetic heads rolling here and a whole Burtonesque forest with truck loads of crunchy leaves.

how i celebrated the end of summer

At the suggestion of my friend John Hayes, of Robert Frost's Banjo fame, I added several of pioneer French filmmaker Agnes Varda's films to my Netflix queue. I watched the first, La Pointe Courte, 1954, this weekend and was completely mesmerized. As part of The Criterion Collection, it has been lusciously remastered. The film is a graceful, yet intense, look at a troubled marital relationship, set in a Mediterranean fishing village.

Gorgeously filmed, it plays almost like a documentary, showing a very real slice of culture, and left me feeling as if I had just browsed a wonderful photographic exhibit. In my favorite breathtaking scene, the couple crawl into the shadowy hull of an abandoned boat and share an intimate conversation. In the opening sequence, the camera took me down a lazy walkway in the small village, peering in open windows at families gathered at dinner tables, with hanging laundry scattered among stray cats.

It immediately brought to mind a book I read to my children, in the early 90s, by the wonderful illustrator, Louise Brierley, called The Fisherwoman. The story is about Maud, the fisherwoman, who has worked hard to earn her living from the sea. One evening, when she hauls in her net, she finds an old pink vase among the flapping silver mackerel. The vase, she discovers, has magical properties, but in the end all is not as she hopes. Brierley's character, Maud, with round face and lush full features, looks amazingly like Varda's female character, Elle. And as synchonicity would have it, both Varda's film and Brierly's story are loosely based on feminist themes, exuding beauty, life and power.

Since I couldn't spend the holiday weekend in the Mediterranean, this movie, and the book, which I had to dig out and re-read, certainly hit the spot, celebrating the last days of summer. I'm also looking forward to watching the next few Varda films in the coming weeks, so stay tuned.

golly moses

I was very pleasantly surprised to get this wonderful movie still in the mail this week from my bloggy friend, Steviewren, from A Little Birdie Told Me So. She knows how much I adore The World of Henry Orient, 1964, set in glorious autumnal 1960s Manhattan. Since fall is just around the corner, it's about time to pop it in for another watch. (Click HERE for my previous film review.) The movie stars Peter Sellers, as a seedy, mediocre concert pianist and two13 year old girls who are infatuated with him. I like this delightful coming of age film so much, because the fresh exuberance of the girls reminds me of my own idealistic girlishness in the '60s.

It's fun to own this great little piece of Hollywood memorabilia. A film still, sometimes called a publicity still or a production still, is a photograph taken on the set of a movie or television program during production by a movie stills photographer, primarily used for promotional purposes. I think Stevie was drawn to this particular photo because it could easily be she and I in 1964. Kinda looks like us, doesn't it, Stevie on the left, and me on the right? Note, true to form, I'm the one holding the turkey leg.

Marian Gilbert: You shaved your legs!

Valerie Boyd: You're the biggest blabber mouth.

Marian Gilbert: You didn't tell me!

Valerie Boyd: I don't have to tell you everything!

Erica Booth: A little louder girls, some people in the balcony can't hear you.

brazzi + tozzi = yum

Okay, I admit it. I am a sucker for musicals. South Pacific, 1958 is the perfect summer flick. Here's one of my all time favorite songs from the movie. Believe it or not, this fabulous voice does not belong to the dreamy Rossano Brazzi. It's that of the opera star Giorgio Tozzi, who was for many years a leading bass with the Metropolitan Opera, seen playing lead roles in nearly every major opera house worldwide. Tozzi's fabulous voice is the reason I love listening to this particular rendition of the song. The combination of Brazzi and Tozzi makes one incredibly delicious man.

After dubbing in the singing parts for Brazzi in South Pacific, Tozzi spent many years playing the role of de Becque himself in various revivals and road tours of the show, including one at Lincoln Center in the late 1960s. In 1980, Tozzi earned a Tony award nomination for best leading actor in a musical for his work as Tony in The Most Happy Fella. Tozzi worked extensively as an educator in professorships at Juilliard, Brigham Young University, and Indiana University. In 2006, he retired as Distinguished Professor of Voice at Indiana University's Jacobs School of Music in Bloomington, Indiana. I had the good fortune to meet the charming Mr. Tozzi when my daughter was an undergraduate vocal student at the Jacobs School in 2001.

In addition to South Pacific, here's a few other of my favorite seasonal flicks guaranteed to get you through these dawg days of summer:

Much Ado About Nothing, Lawrence of Arabia, Out of Africa, My House in Umbria, Cinema Paradiso, Light in the Piazza, Summertime, Burnt by the Sun, Swimming Pool, A Room with a View, and The Bridges of Madison County.

creepiest willow

Martin Scorsese says The Innocents, 1961, is one of top 11 scariest horror films of all time. It's based on the novella The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. Directed and produced by Jack Clayton, it stars Deborah Kerr, Michael Redgrave and Megs Jenkins. It did not do well at the box office at the time, but since then, critics call it one of the best psychological thrillers ever made, and it has received much praise and even cult status over the years. The dark, atmospheric film uses lighting, music, and direction for its effect rather than gore and shock factor.

So, why am I posting on this particular movie? Because it features one of the creepiest willow songs ever. "O Willow Waly", written by Georges Auric and Paul Dehn and sung on the soundtrack by Isla Cameron, was released in the UK following the film, on a Decca single in March, 1962. Simple and chilling, it's one of those earworms that haunts you for days afterwards.

If you're wondering what in the world "waly" means, I had to look it up, as well.

Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

(interj.) An exclamation of grief.

We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow.

But now alone I lie and weep beside the tree.

Singing "Oh willow waly" by the tree that weeps with me.

Singing "Oh willow waly" till my lover return to me.

We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow.

A broken heart have I. Oh willow I die, oh willow I die.

from children to Nazis

I watched Austrian filmmaker, Michael Haneke's, The White Ribbon, 2009, this week and it's been haunting me for days. In fact, I think I might just have to watch it again, before I mail it back to Netflix. It's the account of a series of mysterious bits of sabotage, in a rural village in northern Germany in 1913, each directed at three powerful community leaders, the doctor, the baron, and the pastor. Though subtle, this film packs a serious punch. Details are deliberately left unanswered, which makes it eerily unsettling.

The movie was filmed in luminous black and white 1080p high definition, which very effectively lends to the psychological darkness of the film. It also has the feel of a classic film, without losing the brilliant range of blacks to gray scale, and pops with crisp chiaroscuro.

Although neither Nazism or Fascism is mentioned, the film gives much insight into their origins through the religious extremism and political terrorism which reigns rampant in this rural community. It's interesting to note the village pastor ties white ribbons on the arms of his children, as a form of punishment, and to remind them of righteous living, yet there is something very evil happening under the guise of purity. Historically, this same core group, 20 years later, turns to National Socialism, and takes on the black ribbon as the symbol of totalitarianism.

This movie has an evocative, chilling Ingmar Bergman feel to it. Don't look for a happy ending here. It's deep, intelligent and troubling. Add it to your queue and tell me if you don't end up thinking about it for days...or maybe even weeks.

The White Ribbon won the Palme d'Or for best film, and at the 67th Golden Globe Awards the film won the Golden Globe Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

munch ado

According to oral history, the Baron Münchhausen's astounding feats included riding cannonballs, travelling to the Moon, and escaping from a swamp by pulling himself up by his own hair, or bootstraps, depending on who tells the story. Karl Friedrich Hieronymus, Freiherr von Münchhausen (1720–1797), spelled Munchausen in English, was a German born baron, who in his youth served as page to Anthony Ulrich II of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, and later joined the Russian military. He served until 1750, taking part in two campaigns against the Ottoman Turks. Returning home, Münchhausen supposedly told a number of outrageously tall tales about his wild adventures.

By the 19th century, his tales had undergone expansions and transformations by many notable authors and had been translated into numerous languages, totaling over 100 various editions. Baron Munchhausen's adventures have also been published in Russia, where they are quite commonly known, especially the versions adapted for children. It is not clear how much of the story material derives from the Baron himself; however, it is known that the majority of the stories are based on folktales that have been in circulation for many centuries before Münchhausen's birth.

I was fascinated this week by the mention of Munchausen Syndrome on Gyan Ban's blog. It is an attention seeking personality disorder, named after the Baron Munchausen. A predominantly female disorder, in which an emotionally immature person with narcissistic tendencies, low self esteem and a fragile ego has an overwhelming need to be the center of attention. This is achieved by capitalizing on, exploiting, exaggerating or feigning illness, injury, or personal misfortune. The opportunities for attention can be increased by feigning victimhood through alleged victimisation, isolation, or exclusion. The Munchausen person often depicts another, usually a family member, as a victimiser or persecutor, and herself as the victim. Know someone like this? Let the mental health specialists handle it.

Among the many film adaptations, my personal fave is Terry Gilliam's wild and quirky The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 1988. The film stars John Neville as the Baron and nine year old Sarah Polley as Sally Salt. Supporting the Baron as his faithful crew were Eric Idle, Charles McKeown, Winston Dennis and Jack Purvis. The film also featured Uma Thurman, Oliver Reed, Jonathan Pryce, Sting and Robin Williams, credited as Ray D. Tutto. (Why? I have no idea.) Here's two of my favorite scenes from the movie, the first is Uma Thurman as Venus, and the second is John Neville as the Baron, trying to have a deathbed scene, which is so hilariously apropos, considering the syndrome named after him. I don't usually post two video clips, but they're both shorties, so take a peek.

summer hours

This delicious film from my Netflix queue deserves a whole post of it's very own. Summer Hours, (L'heure d'été), 2008, written and directed by contemporary French filmmaker, Olivier Assayas, opens in a gloriously crumbling old country house an hour north of Paris. (Remember how I adore patina?) The 75 year old Hélène (Edith Scob) has gathered her three children (Juliette Binoche, Charles Berling and Jeremie Renier) and their families for her birthday, and discusses with them the fate of her extraordinary art collection, comprised by a dozen circa 1900 masterworks, including furniture by Louis Majorelle and Josef Hoffmann, glass and ceramic vases by Félix Bracquemond and Atelier d'Auteuil, and paintings by Camille Corot and Odilon Redon. The art was inherited from her famous uncle (and possibly incestuous lover), Paul Berthier, a fictional post-Impressionist painter. It's thrilling that many of these gorgeous pieces are actually on loan from the Musée d'Orsay and star, right along with the actors, in the film.

This might seem like an ordinary family melodrama, but Assayas takes the story to a highly poetical level. It's rich in meaning, but not sentimental, dealing with the relationships between people and art and the past. It conjures images of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard; the leaving behind of a lovely era and gently moving into a new order. I liked this one so much, I wanted to pop it back in the machine and watch it again. It's gentle, but ravishing. A perfect summer film.

hepburn + brazzi + venice = yum

Did anyone else see Summertime, 1955, on TCM the other night? Gosh, I can't stop thinking about it. I thought I had seen all the David Lean films out there, but somehow this little gem fell through the cracks. It's about a lonely American spinster, who learns to accept imperfect love from a married art dealer, while on holiday in Venice.

This is a smaller, slower film than Lean's epics, and not quite in the same league as Brief Encounter, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The unique thing about this movie, is that it's filmed entirely on location in gorgeous 1950s Venice. The remastered Criterion Collection version is crisp, colorful and quite delicious. I'm not sure which was the most lip-smacking, the 39 year old Rossano Brazzi in a gray flannel suit or Venice. Hepburn is magnificent, at any age, and she certainly held her own, at 48, paired with the younger Brazzi.



I love the scene where Hepburn enter's Brazzi's shop and spots a wonderful vintage goblet in the window. It made me long to travel in time back to the Venice of the 50s and do some serious shopping. One interesting tidbit of trivia; there's a scene where Hepburn accidentally falls into the canal while taking a home movie of Brazzi's shop. As a result, she actually contracted an infection in her eyes that she battled the rest of her life.

Although this film is a predictable love story, it's not a sappy one. It's poignantly real and deals with the deep fear and emotion felt by Hepburn's character. The quintessential Lean photography is breathtaking. It made me want to pack my bags and head straight to Venice. In the meantime, I'm going to buy myself a DVD for my little manor library.

quantum of boredom

Being totally outnumbered by guys this weekend, I ended up watching the 2008 James Bond film, Quantum of Solace. Other than the fact that it has absolutely no plot, I didn't particularly appreciate the fact that Bond was on a cold blooded personal revenge mission. In my book, this movie doesn't even qualify to be a Bond film. Whatever happened to that suave Flemingesque Bond elegance?

Okay, that said, there were two teensy redeemable features. One, being the fabulous chunky gold fish necklace worn by Olga Kurylenko. Talk about something being worth its weight in gold, this is one magnificent piece of bling. I would wear it in a heartbeat. Second, is the marvelous Dame Judi Dench, as the imitable "M", who always presents an excellent piece of acting, regardless of the script. And I might add, she looked stunning in every scene.

If you haven't seen the movie, don't bother. I've already filled you in on the important highlights. And, since it was cold enough over the weekend to pull my woollies out of mothballs, this film gets two woolly socks down.

powell + loy = bling

Last night, TCM aired one of the delightful films of The Thin Man series, Shadow of the Thin Man, 1941. William Powell and Myrna Loy star as Nick and Nora Charles; Nick a dapper, hard drinking retired detective and Nora, his wealthy heiress wife. In each of the films, they team up and delightfully solve a bloody "moy-duh", mostly for fun, with the help of their darling Fox Terrier, Asta. The initial film's screenplay was based on the mystery novel The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett. It was such a smashing success, it spawned five sequels from 1934 to 1947.

I love the adorable chemistry between Powell and Loy. I can't think of another Hollywood pair who produce as much sparkle, well, except for maybe John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara. In each of the films, Loy is a joy to behold, outfitted in every scene with glamorous clothing and plenty of bling. The amazing thing is, each of these witty films were shot in just a short two week time span. Another interesting tidbit, the "Thin Man" of the title was actually the suspect in the first film. The name was thought by virtually everyone to refer to the character of Nick Charles, hence it was used in the titles of the sequels.

A boxed set of The Thin Man movies is now officially on my Christmas wish list.

Loy, doggy star Asta, and Powell

You might be familiar with these two movies influenced by The Thin Man films:

In the 1976 comedy spoof movie Murder by Death, the characters of Nick and Nora Charles became Dick and Dora Charleston, played by David Niven and Maggie Smith.

In the 2005 animated film Hoodwinked!, the character Nicky Flippers, a frog detective voiced by David Ogden Stiers, was based on Nick Charles.

golden graphics

Remember a few weekends ago, when I saw The Last Station at the charming little Drexel Theater in Bexley? They happened to have a box of free posters in the lobby. Well, I'm a sucker for free anything, so I picked one of The Wolfman, 2010. I haven't seen the movie, but Anthony Hopkins has that kind of effect on me. He makes me weak in the knees. I just might pin it to my bedroom wall. Modern film posters are great, but they certainly don't hold a candle to the fantastic graphics of the vintage variety.

Last night, TCM advertised the new book, Starstruck, Vintage Movie Posters from Classic Hollywood. It's the collection of Ira N. Resnick, which includes some 2,000 posters and 1,500 film stills from the golden age of Hollywood. Resnick is both a dealer and a collector, who owns the Motion Picture Arts Gallery in New Jersey, and is a leading authority in the world of film memorabilia.

Several images of Resnick's collection were online. I especially like this wonderful art deco-ish image of the fabulous silent film star, Louise Brooks. What a treasure. I happen to love vintage ephemera of all kinds, but don't have anything Hollywood in my personal collection.

This cool image of Blind Husbands, 1919, also caught my eye. I'm adding this movie to my queue. It's written and directed by Erich von Stroheim, who also stars in the film. Most of us remember him, towards the end of his impressive career, as the creepy enigmatic Max in Sunset Blvd., 1950.

Another form of collectible movie ephemera is the lobby card, like this one for Giant, 1956, which is a small version of the poster. They were 11" x 14", and sometimes 8" x 10" before 1930.

godspeed georgy girl

Lynn Redgrave, spring 2009

As synchronicity would have it, Saturday night I watched The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, 1962, starring Sir Michael Redgrave; Sunday night I popped in Camelot, starring Vanessa Regrave; and today I sadly learned of the death of Lynn Redgrave, part of the Redgrave acting dynasty, daughter of Michael and sister of Vanessa.

I didn't realize she had been ill, but apparently she had been battling breast cancer for the past seven years. She was 67. Redgrave received two Oscar nominations during her decades-long acting career; one for her role in Georgy Girl ,1966 and another more than 30 years later for her supporting turn as the scraggly housekeeper in Gods and Monsters, 1999. She also earned four Tony Award nominations for her stage work.

The last movie I remember seeing her in, was Merchant Ivory's White Countess, 2005, starring with her late niece, Natasha Richardson and her sister Vanessa Redgrave. She was delightful in the role of a member of the Russian aristocracy exiled in 1936 Shanghai.

You know, I've had the lyrics to the Georgy Girl song in my head all afternoon.

Always window shopping, but never stopping to buy.

Her death reminds me how short life is. We certainly need to seize the day and stop to buy a big juicy chunk of life. Our beautiful and talented Georgy Girl left us all too soon, my friends. May she rest in peace.