Posted by Susan Doll on November 16, 2015
Over the weekend, I participated in a conference called Flickering Landscapes, which was organized by Bruce Janz and Phil Peters of the University of Central Florida. The conference focused on the representation of Florida in film and television as well as the state’s extensive cinema history. Florida is unique in the way that its distinctive landscape has affected the state’s identity and image in popular culture. In addition, tourists, vacationers, and Hollywood image-makers have played a major role in shaping that identity—something native Floridians have learned to live with.
I thought I would share some of the history and ideas that I learned at the conference.
I recently wrote about Florida’s role in early cinema history after I discovered that director George Melford had been part of an effort to launch a film industry in St. Petersburg. (See October 26th post.) I expanded on this piece of Florida history for my part in the conference, and I discussed two other attempts to establish film production on the Gulf Coast. In the mid-1920s, a real estate investor built a beautiful film studio half way between Tampa and Sarasota. Dubbed Sun City, the production center was considered a movie colony, which was supposed to include housing for actors and crew members, a school, a church, a city hall, a power plant, and other facilities necessary to be self-sustaining. The secretary-treasurer of the Sun City Holding Company decided to plat out the streets, pave them, and name them after famous movie stars of the era. He sent maps of Sun City to every Hollywood movie star with a street named after them, hoping they would relocate to Sun City to make films at the new studio. Unfortunately, the land bust caused by rampant real estate speculation destroyed any chance for Sun City to become successful, and the studio never produced a feature film. The only vestiges of this film colony are the town’s streets, which are still named after stars of the 1920s. I am sure current residents have no clue.
Posted by Pablo Kjolseth on November 15, 2015
The 38th Denver Film Festival calls it a wrap today. When it began in 1978 it featured the works of such diverse directors as Woody Allen, Wes Craven, and Louise Malle. This year #DFF38 was held November 4 – 15 and it had an equally varied lineup that covered a wild gamut of genres from all around the world. Of specific interest to TCM viewers would be a documentary by Kent Jones that screened last night at the DFF titled Hitchcock/Truffaut. It uses a legendary 27-hour interview between François Truffaut and Alfred Hitchcock conducted in 1962 as its starting point. The results provide an excellent launch pad for cinephiles looking to rekindle a discussion for what Hitchcock referred to as “the greatest known mass medium in the world.” [...MORE]
They called Claude Chabrol “the French Hitchcock,” but this was always more a marketing hook than a meaningful comparison. Alfred Hitchcock made crowd-pleasing suspense thrillers; Chabrol made vicious satires disguised as suspense thrillers. For decades, Chabrol had been crafting spiky, embittered dramas simmering with disgust for humanity in general and the French bourgeoisie in specific.
And in 1988, he took aim at Nazi-occupied France. That was impressive enough, but the bullet he fired was a tangled, M.C. Escher-like self-referential puzzle surfing waves he’d set in motion two decades earlier.
Posted by gregferrara on November 13, 2015
Today, TCM airs Mogambo, John Ford’s 1953 remake of Victor Fleming’s 1932 pre-code Red Dust. Despite the 21 year gap between the films, Clark Gable played the lead in both. A part of the justification for the remake was that they could go further with the story in 1953 than they had in 1932 which really wasn’t true anyway since the 1932 version, being a pre-code movie, probably had freer rein than the 1953 version to do what it wanted. Regardless, both movies were made long before actors casually used profanity on the screen, showed graphic gore, and got naked. Well, actually, after the seventies they kind of stopped doing that last one but you get the idea. Prior to the ratings system coming into play in the late sixties, when filmmakers were finally given the go ahead to say and do what they wanted without fear of a censor telling them they couldn’t, the movies had to walk a fine line between providing entertainment for adults while at the same time not actually doing or showing anything that might seem too, well, adult.
Posted by Kimberly Lindbergs on November 12, 2015
Federico Fellini is one of my favorite filmmakers so I was delighted to discover that TCM Imports is showcasing the movie maestro’s work every Sunday night throughout the month of November. In the next three weeks you can catch Nights of Cabiria (1957) on Nov. 15, Juliet of the Spirits (1965) on Nov. 22 and Satyricon (1969) on Nov. 29.
I’m particularly fond of the last two films scheduled and generally prefer Fellini’s work in the sixties due to its baroque artistry and avant-garde sensibilities. During that transformative decade the Italian director disregarded conventional storytelling technique in favor of a unique dream language, which emerged from his life experience and was filtered through his vivid imagination and esoteric interests. The results were a series of innovative, provocative and unapologetically sensual films that can still shock and surprise audiences. Fellini also had a wonderful sense of humor that was patently apparent throughout his career as a celebrated director and talented cartoonist.
Posted by Richard Harland Smith on November 11, 2015
Shit’s about to get real… on TCM Underground Saturday night with a black-to-black baadassss double bill of ABAR, THE FIRST BLACK SUPERMAN (1977) and THREE THE HARD WAY (1974).
Posted by R. Emmet Sweeney on November 10, 2015
“If I was an architect and I had to build a palace to the cinema, I would put at its entrance a statue of Duvivier.” – Jean Renoir
Julien Duvivier is a memorable name, phonetically speaking. It rolls lyrically off the tongue, sounding like a foppish count in a Lubitsch operetta. The memory of his career, though, has faded. Duvivier was a distinguished director for forty years, one who popularized the French poetic realist style in Pepe le Moko (1937), starring Jean Gabin. In his time he was admired by Jean Renoir, Orson Welles and Graham Greene, but was part of the old guard roundly rejected by the Cahiers du Cinema critics in the 1950s, and continued to be dismissed by the American brand of auteurism imported to the U.S. by Andrew Sarris. Outside of Pepe, he was rarely discussed in English until a 2009 retrospective mounted at the Museum of Modern Art, organized by Joshua Siegel. And now the Criterion Collection has released a fascinating DVD box set, in their no-frills Eclipse series, entitled Julien Duvivier in the Thirties, which includes David Golder (1930), Poil de Carotte (1932), La Tete d’un Homme (1933), and Un Carnet de Bal (1937). These films, unknown to me previously, approach four different genres with a dark romanticism expressed through a restless, roaming camera.
Posted by Susan Doll on November 9, 2015
“The fingers with the little blue letters. Now as the fingers stirred John could see them all. He supposed that at first the letters meant nothing; that perhaps each finger had a name and the name was a letter. H—A–T—E . The left hand. L—O—V—E. The right hand. Left hand and right hand and the fingers each had names. Now Preacher saw the boy staring and the hands sprang apart and he held them up. ‘Ah, little lad! You’re staring at my fingers!’”
This passage from the novel Night of the Hunter inspired one of Hollywood cinema’s most iconic images—Robert Mitchum’s tattooed hands. The widely recognized motif was referenced in later films (Do the Right Thing; Scorsese’s Cape Fear) as well as in song lyrics (Springsteen’s “Cautious Man”). Mitchum is chilling as Preacher Harry Powell who tells the story of his right hand and left hand, which represent the eternal struggle over love and hate, good and evil. Much has been written about Mitchum’s performance, James Agee’s script, and Charles Laughton’s direction in the film version of Night of the Hunter. However, the book’s author, Davis Grubb, who originated the love-hate tattoo and its symbolism, is generally overlooked.
Posted by gregferrara on November 8, 2015
Today on TCM, Michael Ritchie’s The Candidate airs, one of my favorite political movies out there. It basically details the day to day workings of the campaign of Bill McKay (Robert Redford) as it descends further and further into utter meaninglessness. And that’s why it works. It’s a movie about politics, not a political movie. The movie is about the failure of the political machines to produce anything of substance, and that even if they start with something solid, eventually, a bland, neutral, non-committal center will be arrived at that hardly feels worth the effort. If you haven’t seen it, give it a look. It’s well worth your time. But what about movies that are political? No, I don’t mean some documentary with an ax to grind or some behind the scenes movie about political infighting, like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington or The Best Man. I mean political, like On the Waterfront. Political, like Unforgiven. Political, like It’s a Wonderful Life. When movies have a message that’s not exactly hidden from view, is it better to watch them with that in mind or ignore it for the greater good of art?
Today is my fifth anniversary of joining Movie Morlocks. My first post, “Hey, down in front!” was posted on Saturday November 6, 2010. This week marks my 260th post—and since it’s been 261 weeks since I first showed up, that means I’ve only missed my slot once. And I didn’t even really “miss” it, since the day I dropped was when TCM took over the site for a themed promotional event and pre-empted the usual Morlocks posts.
Rather foolishly, I saved the best for first, and haven’t managed to top “Hey, down in front!” Maybe I should’ve done a mic drop and walked away then and there—instead I’ve gone on an interminable downhill slide as I’ve used this platform to broadcast my contrarian ideas about classic films (click on any of the titles to read the original post, if you’re interested): FW Murnau’s Sunrise is a slapstick comedy! Buster Keaton’s talkie pictures are actually quite enjoyable—especially The Passionate Plumber! Alfred Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent is a slapstick comedy! The inner frame of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari does not function like a dream sequence! The shorter cut of Metropolis is actually more authentic than the longer “director’s cut”! Chaplin mimics aren’t worthless ripoffs! FW Murnau is not the most important creative force behind Nosferatu! Star Trek The Motion Picture is a great movie, for exactly the reasons everyone hates it!
It’s a wonder y’all haven’t kicked me out of here yet.
Here are a few of my personally most memorable posts.
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