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Everything posted by Mac_the_Nice

  1. Fully concur about Raging Bull being richly enhanced by that operatic score but since, by my lights, RB is far better than just OK, well, then, hmmmm . . . Within strict guidelines of this challenge, not much comes to mind! Well . . . maybe Arthur Penn's, some might say, unfairly abused Mickey One? The jazz score composed by a former arranger/pianist for the Goodman Band, Eddie Sauter with Stan Getz on tenor--whoa. That music is so supreme that I'm sure it must benevolently short-circuit my head so that I can detect nothing at all from the "pretentiousness" others seem to find in the film itself as a whole.
  2. Whoops almost didn't give the details. It's TONIGHT. "I Married a Woman". 12:15 EDT. Title just sort of leaves you sitting there wondering what the heck happened to the ". . . from Outer Space" part? Uh-Huh. Okay. But NOT so strange in this day since about 7 or 8 years ago when we can veritably expect to see some handsome Jon Hamm looking leading man standing under such a title as this: "I Married my Porche Mechanic." Nobody would bat an eye.
  3. Omigod. Had I known about *that* marriage back in the mid-1950s, I would have gone all mystical thinking like, nothing is impossible. We will soon be visited by Men from Mars for sure! Okay, okay, Mickey Rooney and Ava Gardner, but . . . Make no mistake, George Gobel was a big favorite in our neighborhood such a funny fellow as he was, so subtle in his deadpan humor, but he was such a wee little guy, certainly no Wally Cox/Mr. Peepers, but . . . Diana Dors! Really? The U.K's 100 megaton bombshell version of Mamie Van Doren? Yes. and she is (or was) really brushing her long, lovely platinum blonde locks in THAT guy's bedroom? No Rock Hudson, he? Yes! . And it just kinda restores your faith in blonde bombshells, and women generally, know what I mean?
  4. :-) Have you decided which film, this or the Hollywood version seems to you the best? Hard for me to judge since I haven't read the novel. But so far as including enough of the kind of detail necessary to an understanding of plot and character, I guess I'm still tending toward the Hollywood version.
  5. Purple Noon, from 1960, the French adaption to the screen of Patricia Highsmith's The Talented Mr. Ripley--always worth seeing again for the fans of Highsmith, Alain Delon and director, René Clément. Comes on at 10:30 a.m. CDT. Been awhile since I saw this but my recollection is of a feeling that I liked the Hollywood version better. That's not at all usual for me, since mostly I despise the remake of just about anything--so maybe a martini or two too many that night had gotten in the way of my better critical judgment. Now I get to find out, as I sit down to watch with nothing more than orange juice, coffee and fumes of bacon & eggs to influence my general awareness.
  6. Yes, I'm sure even a fabulous talent, wit and secret rebel like Katie Hepburn could be plagued by the same vanity most the rest of us suffer, so . . . I think you've put your finger on it.
  7. Yes, and all too often, they have a tendency in that bumptiousness (if it be of the idolizing sort) to morph into fanfic. So it's rather refreshing to see what it's like to find a fair amount of objectivity at work in the work, such as it is with this one . . . But for anyone so pathetically enthralled with the music of the Strauss family as I am, this series can do nothing to deplete that admiration, even if it does deliver shockingly short shrift when it comes to the operas, offering only these sort of pastiches of merely instrumental mock-ups of Fledermaus et al. And this series is almost not suited to episode bingeing as it could easily keep you at it for 24 hours straight, if not more, what with the six seasons of ten part episodes. You will learn about the Strausses though, warts, cultured moles, and all.
  8. The Rimsky-Korsakov opera, itself, in case there are any ex-CIA or KGB spooks here who know their Russian . . .
  9. Or if the theme was too obscured by symbolism in the Tennessee Williams play, how could anyone not get, or forget Vincente Minnelli's Tea & Sympathy--the way my mother went about with her beatnik friends raving about it in 1956?
  10. But what would you make of the 1959 Gore Vidal script for T. Williams' Suddenly, Last Summer?
  11. Omigod. Who knew? Some of you did, of course, and here all this time you've been keeping this fabulous gem of literary and musical knowledge all to yourselves. So naughty, some of you! Well, the jig's up, because here it is, originally composed as a drama in verse circa 1830, by Pushkin and then taken up in the late 1890s to the operatic stage by Rimsky-Korsakov. Fabulous to see how closely Peter Shaffer's script has kept to the original intellectual conflicts, the moral dilemmas invented by Pushkin for his drama. Ever since seeing Amadeus, I've always thought this to be such a brilliant idea for a writer to conceive for a story. One just hopes Mozart, his wife, and Salieri, also Joseph II, then Emperor of Austria would find it every bit as clever . . .
  12. Well sure! Any other topics you'd care to leave outside the door with the galoshes, the wet umbrella? How about any discussion of the "Uncle Scrooge" figure in Donald Duck cartoons, along with the faintly disguised extreme right-wing figures of Elmer Fudd and Yosemite Sam? Should we not regard introduction of any such subjects to be extremely harmful to an atmosphere and ambiance here of peaceful coexistence? And why should only political subjects be pooh-poohed? Or i.e., why should only they be deigned pooh-poohable? What about those terribly annoying posts when somebody wants to talk about typical diseases of the house-cat? I'll make a deal: I won't post here anything about the true subtextual content of "Barbarian Invasions" (having partly to do with government subsidized healthcare in Canada) so long as Richard Kimble here agrees never to come around here talking about his g*dd*m disease ridden cat. Thank You in Advance. :-)
  13. The Barbarian Invasions . . . http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/barbarian_invasions/?search=barbarian%20invasions A French/Canadian director, Denys Arcand The style: stratospherically intellectual. The content: in the days surrounding 9/11, the grand patriarch of a family is dying of cancer: I find that this director has a former film of equally high rating from RT . . . http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/le-declin-de-lempire-americain/?search=The%20Decline%20of%20the%20American%20Empire What do you think? Am I reading a hidden content into it that's not there, or do you also detect a presence of anti-liberal grousing in the dialog?
  14. Thank You, SansFin. As for the "sappy/sentimental" in Japanese film: I don't think you could say that of this one which nonetheless could not be more deeply touching, not because of any sentiment developed in dialogue or situation but in terms of the story content, the import of it, and that itself. https://www.netflix.com/WiMovie/70019011?trkid=200250783
  15. Okay, some Korean movies. But I don't like watering down my enthusiasm like that for mere sake of being more rigorously rational--what a bore! But if Joe Friday were to come along and insist that we stick to the facts here and nothing but, well then here they are: every single Korean movie we've watched just of late, we've simply adored. The charming thought tends to strike you, that Koreans are a bunch of amazingly sentimental slobs who just love movies featuring adorable little children and young couples romantically in love. You get these themes in movie after movie after movie. Moviegoer demand in this case must be greatly moving the character of the supply--there are so many others of the same sort of sentimental genre on NetFlix. I won't mind if someone takes me to task over the word 'sentimental': it probably is a poor choice seeing that it can seem to contradict the sense of genuine sentiment that is not just mushy. And these movies are not, on the whole, "mushy". Just to give an idea, in case you have NetFlix streaming, here's one we watched tonight, called Sad Movie. Maybe you'll think, by the end of this rather long picture, that the director finally went far too far over the top in his attempt to pump your tear ducts for all he can possibly get. I will agree. But then like me, perhaps you'll forgive him, maybe simply because it's like, you know, he means well, and so okay, "It's the thought that counts". He gave it the old Yale Boola Boola Boo-Hoo-Hoo try, for that last and final jerk at a tear, but . . . It's still really a fun, fun, fun movie. And cute as hell. And charming as all get out, like I say. :-)
  16. If only she hadn't fallen (almost) flat on that last note. It came out blaring at first like a big belch--but then she managed to get her vibrato kicked in to make the save. Other than that note, yes. If it's not too late to get trained, maybe she'll be doing Die Fledermaus with the Met, this time next year. I won't say the same for the performance of NPH, which by my lights held no promise, being better suited to a one night musical wonder on Broadway or a Kenneth Anger film.
  17. Yes. That's the point. Too much acclaim. Too much glad-handing from the bourgeois cultural elite. He needed this. See my reply to Dargo.
  18. Right. That's what I think I was trying to say. It was not the perfect snub that this was. Clint needs to be the outlier. All this bourgeois acceptance is just too boring.
  19. Well, I've a hunch that if there was ever a time for Clint to enjoy a wildly warm and fuzzy feeling of vindication over a lack of recognition by the Hollywood establishment, this is it. His Gran Torino fell just a bit short of such perfectly backhanded poetic justice, so here it is: that eagerly awaited opportunity to give Clint the Empty Chair Interview treatment. But let no one think Clint Eastwood is not enjoying this. ;-) He so totally had to be sitting out there saying, quietly, between grit teeth, "Make my day." And they did. They felt . . . 'lucky'.
  20. Thought I'd die of shame (for sake of the Academy, and every music lover--with taste--in the audience) before that Neil Patrick Harris song and dance routine in the beginning ever got over. Never saw any M.C. at the Oscars who looked so much at risk of being garroted by his own bow-tie, or downright drawn and quartered by that way 'too sexy for his shirt' fit of his monkey suit. Where, oh where my dear friends are the Fashion Police and our dear, darling Joanie now that the world so needs her more than ever? This may not deserve a whole new paragraph to itself, but, Darlings! Do tell! Since when should a tux look like a Spiderman suit? Okay. Moving on: won't you agree with me that they really do need to just get over it and appoint Billy Crystal a lifetime contract to do this show--I mean, ask yourselves! Who else has the taste to pull it off with that special Hollywood and Manhattan style of class? So what, his leading laugh line each time should then have to be, "Okay, okay. It's the Jew again. We really do own Hollywood? Hey! We give you a good deal. So be happy in your work." In conclusion, dear Hollywoodland Friends, are you with me when I say that we really do have to give kudos in honor to the cajones on Sean Penn, for saving the whole show as he did? Who would ever have thought? I mean, you heard it, didn't you, that line of his announcing Best Picture--that it should go to Alejandro González Iñárritu (already he's sitting there in the audience clutching two Oscars). So, here's Sean, this guy who in a younger day used to love nothing more than shooting at paparazzi in choppers over Madonna's mansion (their love nest) in the Hollywood Hills--or i.e. when it wasn't rats, at the dump for a classic Woody Allen film (a sort of Spinal Tap fake biopic send-up, one of his best, in my book). But, here's Sean, true to form, performing that long, pregnant pause before reading out the content of the Best Picture envelope. Finally, he asks, with an expression of classic Elmer Fudd shotgun toting befuddlement, "Who gave this SOB his Green Card?" Hooray for Hollywood!
  21. That is SO clear from watching some of her performances, isn't it? Good you should mention it, too. It's especially clear from the period pieces. Some people think her characterization of Dotty Parker (Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle) was over the top. Well, yes it was. There is some audio of Dotty to be found on Web which immediately goes to show you that Dorothy Parker was, herself, over the top, and fabulously, uniquely so. It's just as Martin Balsam in Breakfast at Tiffany's is given to put it about Holly Golightly, (pardon the paraphrase), "The thing is though, Fred Baby; I mean, you've just got to ask: is she a real phony or just a phony phony?"
  22. Did you? First I've ever seen of it. Been on a 1984 kick of late, checking out those two feature length films at YouTube, one from BBC (1954?) and the other with Edmund O'Brien from Columbia Pictures a year or two later. I had to wonder: is the mysterious "Immanuel Goldstien" based on the character of Leon Trotsky? Had to get googling on it. And so it would appear. There's a huge archive of Trotsky diatribes. And now I've probably got J. Edgar Hoover hot on my trail, after downloading some of that flaming RED stuff to my hot and smoking Kindle. I notice that Frida (famous artist, Marxist lover of both Diego Rivera and Trotsky) is currently available from NetFlix for streaming: Salma is truly great in the role. So worth seeing for those who haven't yet: a powerfully fascinating woman. The late, sorely missed Christopher HItchens on the subject . . .
  23. Whaddaya think? Is she sort of channeling (at least in part) Roz Russell for her take on that scene . . .
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