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redmund
Reviews
The Comfort of Strangers (1990)
I think Schrader missed the boat on this one.
Being fully aware of this film's rather large cult following, I must
nevertheless offer myself as the voice of dissention. I think the
supremely gifted Harold Pinter wrote a diabolically clever
screenplay adaptation, which Paul Schrader directed as if it were
one of his own scripts. The result, to my thinking, is one of the
great missed cinematic opportunities of the1990s. Schrader
(whose intelligent though straight-ahead linear approach has all
the rhythmic subtlety of of a Led Zeppelin concert) could have
easily done a bit of research on Pinter's writing style (which is, by
comparison, like a string quartet by Phillip Glass) but most clearly
couldn't be bothered, very much to the film's ultimate detriment.
Still, Christopher Walken and Helen Mirren are both loads of fun,
as always.
Jurassic Park III (2001)
Terrific B-Movie fun!
Assuming that you're going to see "Jurassic Park III" for the dinosaurs
and not for thematically complex, character-driven drama, you'll have a
blast. I've read through some of the complaints listed in these reviews
(regarding inferior CGI effects and the like) and I just don't get it.
Who CARES what plot devices sets these characters down on the forbidden
island? The only thing that matters here is the action itself, and that
is first-rate. The film moves quickly, has a few decent jokes, and
doesn't take itself too seriously. In other words, a great B-picture.
My take on "Jurassic Park III": better than "The Lost World," not as
good as the original. That was all I was hoping for and that's what I
got. F
Pink Flamingos (1972)
Waters' writing far outshines his directing.
There can be no question of PINK FLAMINGOS' importance as an alternative
pop-cultural artifact. This is not to say, however, that the film is
particularly good. There is a technical shoddiness to the entire
enterprise - long, under-rehearsed and unedited takes with endless
panning and zooming - that undercuts whatever its creator, John Waters,
may have wanted to say about the corrupt society he so clearly loves to
hate (just compare the quality of Waters' own footage with the
documentary footage shot by Steve Yeager in his award-winning DIVINE
TRASH, of John Waters actually at work filming PINK FLAMINGOS for all
the evidence you need of the director's lack of cinematographic skill).
It's not that Waters lacks the ability to articulate his point of view;
it's just that his directorial abilities tend to fall short of his
thematic ambitions. You see, I am of the opinion that Waters' greatest
gift is in the writing department. Directorially, his films show little
in the way of rhythm and focus. That is, perhaps, with perhaps one clear
exception.
DESPERATE LIVING is a genuinely Felliniesque epic with, at least in my
view, far more scope than any of Waters' other work. In it, he creates
an entire parallel universe, Morteville, where compulsory misery is
enforced by legal decree. The principle cast is enormous and there just
seems to be so much more going on than in anything else Waters has ever
done. Mink Stole proves herself to be an actor of genuinely demonic
intensity, while the physical production itself is clearly being guided
by a well-developed (if loopy) intelligence.
In general, I prefer Waters' older films such as MULTIPLE MANIACS and
FEMALE TROUBLE to such later efforts as CRY BABY and PECKER (a film
which I genuinely detest) - there's an immediacy and honesty to those
grainy old 16mm films, a palpable kinetic joy not unlike the
exhilaration one experiences while executing the perfect practical joke.
Interestingly, DESPEPRATE LIVING is notable for the absence of Divine,
Waters' principle star, who was unavailable at the time of production.
Without her, the film seems somehow more balanced, less cluttered and
even more culturally subversive than its early-to-mid seventies
counterparts.
Still, PINK FLAMINGOS is the Waters film against which all others
ultimately will be judged. It is one of the most extreme works ever
committed to celluloid and a genuine cinematic Rorschach test. The film
possesses many virtues: a lively cast, a brilliantly ludicrous (and
funny) script and an almost pathological detrmination - or need - to
offend.
Perhaps it's beside the point to complain too much about Waters'
directorial abilities when it's so clear that his satirical skills are
in such great form - the guy is a genuine cultural anthropologist and
almost as funny as Moliere.
I just wish he would write more books.
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Dionysus in '69 (1970)
Extremely hard to find, though absolutely indispensable work.
Dionysus is not really a film as such, but a "from the hip" documentary "capture" of the Performance Group's legendary 1969 staging of Euripides' THE BACCHAE. Hugely inspired by the ground-breaking theatrical rituals of Polish director Jerzy Grotowski, DIONYSUS IN '69 (as the production was named) stirred up huge controversy amongst New York theatre audiences and critics alike.
Although the production was directed by Richard Schechner, Dionysus In '69 was created through a rehearsal process that was part democracy, part anarchy, part primal scream therapy. The final result was more a ritualized confrontation than conventional play, which culminated in a virtual orgy of audience participation. Nudity, profanity and huge amounts of stage blood were used to tremendous effect. Brian DePalma discovered the production and brought two NYU film maker friends of his into a special performance where multiple 16mm cameras were used to archive the iconoclastic proceedings in B&W. The final cut is an exercise in the "split screen" techniques which would eventually become DePalma's cinematic trademark.
The cast shows deep commitment to their material, and Bill Shepherd (later known as Will Shepherd) is particularly brilliant in the role of Pentheus. I will not go into the plot, which should be well-known to most college graduates, but will say that the original Euripides play (written about 500 B.C.) deals with the myth of Dionysus and his revenge upon the city responsible for his mortal mother's death.
I had the good fortune to direct Will Shepherd in my own film adaptation of THE BACCHAE, produced in October of 2000, where he played Cadmus, grandfather to the character he portrayed so brilliantly some thirty years before at the Performance Garage in New York.
I highly recommend the film DIONYSUS, if not for its filmic brilliance, then at least for its documentation of one of the true theatrical marvels of the late 1960's.
There are a number of 16mm prints of Dionysus floating around out there somewhere, but I'm not sure what company distributes the film, which is not available on video through
Mi ni te gong dui (1983)
Whaaaa??????????
Except for about 1,000 boring spots, this film is one of the most bemusingly funny "bad movie night" attractions I've ever seen. An absolute trainwreck of a production, Fantasy Mission Force (as its title translates, or so I'm told) is so profoundly and utterly stupid that it deserves a place of honor in the pantheon of cinematic ineptitude.
Still, it's funny!
There's a musical number in the first act which, although it fails to tie in with the subsequent story in any fashion, has got to be seen to be believed. Taking place at a what appears to be a huge honorary banquet for white male law students...oh, never mind.
If you love bad film as much as I do - "Plan 9 From Outer Space," "Glen Or Glenda," "Song Of Norway," "On Deadly Ground," "Boxing Helena," "An Alan Smithee Film," "Battlefield Earth" and the like - you will want to fashion a religion around this masterpiece of the inane.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, in this film makes even the slightest bit of sense. It makes "Godzilla Vs. Megalon" seem like an algebraic equation by comparison.
Lisztomania (1975)
Gives the word grotesque a whole new meaning.
I'm a great fan of Ken Russell's films. What I like most about them is the director's ability (and willingness) to totally immerse his productions into whatever mania happens to be the driving force behind its subject. The results are often excellent, occasionally poor. But never have I seen a film that was, at once, so incredibly visionary and God-awful as Lisztomania.
In most Russell films, fantasy takes on an important role in the dramatic narrative. In Lisztomania, the narrative is virtually jettisoned in favor of fantasy, and not to altogether admirable effect.
Still, any motion picture that can give us Richard Wagner portrayed as a Transylvanian vampire who gains musical inspiration by sucking the blood of Franz Liszt deserves points for imaginative hubris.
Ultimately, Lisztomania is less a film than a comic boot pastiche. Its humor is, by turns, dazzling and lead-footed. Compared to THE MUSIC LOVERS (another Russell bio-pic, this time about Tchaikovsky), Lisztomania is, for all it gleeful, lip-smacking gusto, a rather tired affair, largely because it's metaphors are so pedantic and literal-minded.
I should point out, however, that Wagner's third-act transformation (or should I say resurrection) into a machine gun-toting, Frankenstein-Hitler rock star (yes, you read correctly) is a genuinely