slaytonf

It is not just that. It is the scene where she dresses herself in western attire, freeing herself from her socialist bonds. The next shot after the number is her coming into the hotel lobby, a glamorous woman, the contrast with her former repressed self being one of the most stunning transformations in movies. It is the only good part of the film.

Oh, I'm getting the argument, now. Because Disney ruthlessly exploits exotic workers, they should throw off all pretense of moral purity and unreservedly promote racist garbage because somebody likes it.

I'm hoping this can be the one place insulated from that.

Yes you are, because the only way to have a short bit of introduction, a short bit of afterword, and a few short bits of program notes and have movies begin on the hour is to have movies very close to one, or two hours long. Please don't take my comments as antagonistic. My point is that there was always padding after movies to fill the time to the next convenient start time (on the quarter, half, or full hour). These were, and remain to a large extent trailers, shorts (the erstwhile one reel wonders), promos for upcoming events, or TCM productions (alas, not so many of them anymore), and more recently, commercials for TCM revenue-generating ventures.

Ah, you know, it may be a case of mass insipidity. But I do have to admit it's not near the top of my personal hit list.

That would be almost impossible to do, as the vast majority of movies are not 58, or 1:58 minutes long.

Ok, I think we have it now and can say with a great deal of confidence that is isn't Sole Survivor (1970), but:

Stop BORING me!

Excellent! I now have terrific project to occupy my leisure hours--just as soon as I finish counting the angels on the head of this pin. . . .

She had, let's see, one--two--three--four--five. . . .six careers in show business, starting as a child on the stage, and including two movie careers, two in radio, and one as a producer--incidentally along the way, having a major roll in fortifying British resolve in defying the German blitz in WW II.

Sophisticated, refined, slinky, sexy. She was a big big star, so it was no accident she was second-billed after Warner Baxter in 42nd Street (1933). Despite what it is remembered for now (Busby Berkeley, Ruby Keeler, Ginger Rogers), one of the things I like most in the movie is Bebe Daniels. A big big star in silents, too, starting with Harold Lloyd, she jumped right into soundies at Radio Pics with Rio Rita (1930), when Paramount (foolishly) cut her loose. It was an ur-musical on a big scale with a two-strip Technicolor finale, and a big big hit. More hits followed, culminating most classically with 42nd Street. She self-terminated her career in the mid-30s, which is probably why she has slipped so far into obscurity, even more so than Mss. Rogers and Keeler. She deserves to be Star of the Month, but because most, if not the majority of her work is in silents, she probably won't. I was pleased to hear Dr. Ament give Ms. Daniels a mention at the tag end of her discussion with Mr. Mankiewicz--even if he did disconcertingly cut it short (due to time considerations?). Anyway, one of my favorite parts of the movie is when she rehearses "You're Getting to Be a Habit With Me" at the request of Julian Marsh. She nonchalantly tosses it off, polished, professional, standing next to, then hopping on the piano, as good as any of the best nightclub chanteuses--bright, playful, charming. When she is done, and Marsh walks away with a cursory acknowledgment of her adequacy, she glances at the accompanist and looks down with short quick nod, as if to say, "so much for that." Here's a clip:

Perhaps in installments, along with the Saturday morning serials. Mmmm, Fassbinder for frühstück.

Chaplin movies haven't been on a lot recently. But all his feature films have been shown often, except, I think A Countess From Hong Kong (1967). Perhaps we could see more of his earlier two reelers--aside from The Immigrant (1917), that is.

I don't think it's ever been on TCM. Used to be on YT, but now you have to *gulp!* PAY.

So sorry to bore you.

My only excuse is it was late and my brain was tired.

Never completely despair. It's amazing, to think of it, the movies I've wanted to see that have shown up here. I surprised myself with how long I could hold my breath. There's That Man From Rio (1964--on again, btw, this month), the restored Metropolis (1927), the restored Funny Face (1957--finally!), The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971), Plein Soleil (1960), and so many more. But others. . . .you wait, you long, you hope *sigh*. Perhaps--well, never completely despair: Charley and the Chocolate Factory (1971). About the best example anywhere of how a great actor can change an otherwise reprehensible waste of time and filmsotck into something not only worth watching, but enjoyable. Gene Wilder is brilliant, and the only thing worthwhile in it. There is a great song--no, not that one, which shall remain nameless, it's "Pure Imagination," but you don't have to watch the movie for that, it's been covered by lots of people. The Road Home (1999). Director Yimou Zhang's glowing, dreamy, recounting of the romance between a village girl and a transplanted grade-school teacher in cultural revolution-era China, occasioned by the passing in old age of the teacher. Told in flashback, with the present in black/white, and the past in golden-light suffused color (ring a bell?), it manages to tell an intimate tale of a charming love story with a bit of an epic sweep. And the ending gives you the same feeling about the human condition the the end of Ray's Apu trilogy does. Lucy and the Miracles (1970). Now, I definitely know I'll never see this one. It was one of the movies on an old TV anthology called The CBS Children's Film Festival. It's a Czech movie filled with irreverent, anti-establishment types, round-pegging it through a square-holed society. The story centers around a little orphan girl, played by what must be the most adorable child actress ever, who makes it her job to find parents for her fellow orphanage inmates. Does she find ones for herself? You'll have to watch the move to find out. (Hint: if you can understand Czech, try Vimeo.) They Might Be Giants (1971). This one is the hardest to hold with my imperative not to despair. It's almost worth trying to be a guest programmer so I can request it. It's not a great movie. It's flawed. In many places it drags, or gets silly, or can even make you cringe. But it is magnificent. And Joanne Woodward and George C. Scott give two of their best respective performances in it. The story is a modern-day, as of '71, reenactment of Sherlock Holmes' and Dr. Watson's titanic struggle with evil personified in Prof. Moriarty. They traipse around, through, up, down, and under New York in their quest, eccentric characters piling up one on the other to the extent that the center of normality shifts, and they become rational. And the supermarket scene--I'll tell you, many movies try to create zaniness. Almost all fail miserably, coming up with only awkward clumsiness. But in this movie--it works! Delightful, playful--and zany. But the ending is what it's all about, transcendence, and madness. All wrapped up in an agonizingly beautiful score by John Barry.

The Yearling (1946). Louisiana Story (1946). Lazy River (1934). Gentle Giant (1967).

Uh oh.

Ah, yes. Alligators and Iguanas with things glued on to them.

I'd like to thank everybody for their comments. It's been great to read all your thoughts. And I have to say I agree with most every thing said, wide ranging as it is. It leads me to think the idea of cult movies is amorphous to a certain extent. Taking a cue from Jlewis, I looked over in Wikiland for Danny Peary's works, and found a better description of the phenomenon than I wrote. I apologize for the extended quote, but I believe it's worthwhile. Here it is: In [Cult Movies] foreword, Peary notes that out of the thousands of movies that have been made, “only an extremely small number have elicited a fiery passion in moviegoers that exists long after their initial releases.” Cult movies are defined by Peary as “special films which for one reason or another have been taken to heart by segments of the movie audience, cherished, protected, and most of all, enthusiastically championed.” He explains that “the typical Hollywood product” never attains cult status since all viewers perceive these average films in more or less the same way, with no real disagreement as to the film’s quality. But cult films “are born in controversy, in arguments over quality, theme, talent and other matters. Cultists believe they are among the blessed few who have discovered something in particular that the average moviegoer and critic have missed – the something that makes the pictures extraordinary.” (link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cult_Movies_(book) ) Later on in the article is the list of the movies he saw as examples, 100 of the best, of cult movies. While there are many that seemed natural to me, like Freaks (1932), El Topo (1971), and Night of the Living Dead (1968), there are many I was surprised to find there, considering them your run-of-the-mill, mainstream flick. Movies like All About Eve (1950), King Kong (1933), The Maltese Falcon (1941), and--!--Singin' in the Rain (1952). Now remember, cultists feel they see something in a movie others have missed. Maybe I'm mistaken, but I don't think any of those movies have ever been under-appreciated, or misunderstood as to their qualities, either by the public, or critics. And while it might have been possible at one time to have ascribed culty aspects to the appreciation of movies like 2001 (1968), and Vertigo (1958), they certainly have moved well within the confines of movie orthodoxy today, even being dubbed 'best movie ever made,' (regardless of that title's value). So what am I saying? Maybe I don't know. But I think Mr. Peary identifying cult movies' existence signaled the beginning of their decline. No longer could devoted advocacy for a movie be un-selfconscious. Cultists have had their limelight. Everyone knows Plan 9 From Outer Space (1956) is the worst movie ever made--even if they've never seen it (though Glen or Glenda?, 1953 may still have possibilities). Mainstream successes, or franchises that inspire avid, even fanatical followings, whose members attend conventions in costume I can't see as evidence of cult status. They represent the extreme expression of the movie's general popularity. There is no more counter-culture anymore, no more underground. It all got sucked into the Great Big Beast, once the Beast saw money could be made from it.

Can you post a pic of 'em?

Well, I did mean cult movies. So no bad to you.

You're right. Katherine Hepburn had it on, but it's not something I would imagine Tracy Lord wearing.