list http://www.spout.com/ Recent community activity around The Bad and the Beautiful on Spout Copyright 2005-9 Spout, LLC Spout RSS http://www.spout.com/images/SpoutLogoRSS.jpg http://www.spout.com/ 136 30 http://www.spout.com/films/The_Bad_and_the_Beautiful/2163/default.aspx Title: The Bad and the Beautiful
Year: 1952
Director: Vincente Minnelli
Plot: Kirk Douglas plays the corrupt and amoral head of a major film studio in this Hollywood drama, often regarded as one of the film's industry's most interesting glimpses at itself. Actress Gloria Lorrison (Lana Turner), director Fred Amiel (Barry Sullivan), and screenwriter James Lee Bartlow (Dick Powell) are invited to a meeting at a Hollywood sound stage at the request of producer Harry Pebbel (Walter Pidgeon). Pebbel is working with studio chief Jonathan Shields (Kirk Douglas), whose studio is in financial trouble and needs a blockbuster hit. If these three names will sign to a new project, he's convinced that there's no way he can lose. But there's a rub -- all three of these Hollywood heavyweights hate Shields's guts. He dumped Gloria for another woman, he double-crossed Fred out of a plum directing assignment, and he was responsible for the death of James Lee's wife. All three are ready to tell Pebbel to forget it, until they hear the voice of Shields, calling from Europe to discuss the project by phone. The Bad and the Beautiful won five Academy Awards, including Best Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress for Gloria Grahame. ~ Mark Deming, All Movie Guide
Times Tagged: 1
Number of Lists: 6
Number of blog posts: 4
SpoutRating: 3
]]>Sun, 19 Jul 2009 21:51:22 GMTThe Bad and the Beautiful1952Vincente Minnelli<a href="/players/P____88133/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Kirk Douglas</a> plays the corrupt and amoral head of a major film studio in this Hollywood drama, often regarded as one of the film's industry's most interesting glimpses at itself. Actress Gloria Lorrison (<a href="/players/P____72175/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Lana Turner</a>), director Fred Amiel (<a href="/players/P____68973/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Barry Sullivan</a>), and screenwriter James Lee Bartlow (<a href="/players/P___106959/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Dick Powell</a>) are invited to a meeting at a Hollywood sound stage at the request of producer Harry Pebbel (<a href="/players/P____56729/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Walter Pidgeon</a>). Pebbel is working with studio chief Jonathan Shields (<a href="/players/P____88133/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Kirk Douglas</a>), whose studio is in financial trouble and needs a blockbuster hit. If these three names will sign to a new project, he's convinced that there's no way he can lose. But there's a rub -- all three of these Hollywood heavyweights hate Shields's guts. He dumped Gloria for another woman, he double-crossed Fred out of a plum directing assignment, and he was responsible for the death of James Lee's wife. All three are ready to tell Pebbel to forget it, until they hear the voice of Shields, calling from Europe to discuss the project by phone. The Bad and the Beautiful won five Academy Awards, including Best Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress for <a href="/players/P____28125/default.aspx" style='text-decoration:underline'>Gloria Grahame</a>. ~ Mark Deming, All Movie Guide1Slightly Tagged (1-5)643http://www.spout.com/ProductImages/t14986rr9s8.jpghttp://www.spout.com/films/The_Bad_and_the_Beautiful/2163/default.aspxFilm http://www.spout.com/blogs/karina/archive/2008/10/17/36455.aspx Post By: Karina
Post To: Karina on SpoutBlog
Post Date: 10/17/2008 2:00:54 PM
Body: Hollywood has been making movies about movies almost as long as they’ve been making movies. But what’s the appeal of a movie about a movie? Assuming there is one; according to Box Office Mojo, a movie about a movie hasn’t grossed significantly over $100 million in twenty years, and that one had the obvious advantage of offering a glimpse into the marriage of a cartoon bombshell and a rabbit. But what is it that makes the legitimately great Hollywood movies––the Sunset Boulevards, the Bad and the Beautifuls, the Players –– legitimately great? Maybe at some point, they were able to convincingly offer the illusion that one had been temporarily invited into an inner sanctum, seen the secret lives of stars, given a lesson in how the sausage is made, but today it’s hard to imagine anyone really believing that a given film has the power to blow the lid off the dream factory. The great Hollywood movies do traffic in the illusion of taking the viewer “inside,” but by layering irony, melodrama, and critique, they never fully strip Hollywood of its inherent mystery, which verges on mysticism. Hollywood plays itself best when reinforcing the tenants of its own myth, particularly those involving stars. At the end of a serious film about the movies, even a bone-dry satire like The Player, we’re supposed to walk away remaining a bit mystified as to the way that world works, as if it’s beyond and above both the constraints and the moral codes of “real life.” Old Hollywood reinforced its structuring lies by making movies which pushed the tacit understanding that us mere mortals would be out of our league if ever asked to operate under Hollywood’s dark laws. What Just Happened? doesn’t feel like a serious film, but that’s not necessarily a reason to not recommend it. The reason to not recommend it is that it has no concept of that sense of mystery, and without it, it feels like there’s nothing at stake. And also, its best joke is the suggestion that Bruce Willis might be concerned with his own artistic integrity. Lacking any sense of connection to classical Hollywood meta-mythology yet filled with late 20th century cliche (Hollywood: it employs a lot of Jews!), Barry Levinson’s dramatization of real-life producer Art Linson’s memoir plays a lot like a feature-length episode of Entourage with a severe shortage of bimbos and hanger-on douchebags. If that sounds like an improvement on the Entourage formula, well, sort of. But the three sources of tensions entangled in Linson’s script never amount to much, which this isn’t a disappointment, exactly, because it was always clear they didn’t have any real weight to begin with. Sprinkled with sore-thumb julienne-cut transitions and the odd deadpan dream sequence, What Just Happened? is an impatient zoom through a couple of days in the life of a harried super-producer (Robert DeNiro) modeled on Linson (who also produced this film). DeNiro battles a number of roughly-sketched personal problems and completely mundane professional problems. Like the Hollywood blockbusters his Linson clone produces (but which the film never sufficiently skewers), each of Happened?’s conflicts can be boiled down to a single, high-concept, 20 words or less logline that leaves no loose end untied. He’s got two weeks to get an addled artiste to tone down his ultraviolent Sean Penn vehicle before Cannes! He’s got three days to get Bruce Willis to stop throwing tantrums and shave his beard before the cameras roll! He’s got an open invite for nooners with his ex-wife, even though she’s clearly sleeping with a screenwriter with an argyle fetish! Of course, the best moments have nothing to do with any of these ticking time bombs; DeNiro is able to momentarily resucitate interest when animating Linson in his down time–when he quietly breaks out the Just For Men, when he slips into an angry fantasy at a funeral and then slips right out again. Otherwise, he’s just playing connect the dots. That the bulk of the narrative streams out from a disasterous out-of-town test screening is unfortunate. As you may have heard by now, What Just Happened premiered at Sundance in January as a title with “buzz”, but once unveiled it was greeted with general indifference. Its Cannes premiere went a bit better, but an American distribution deal still proved elusive, and producers 2929 Entertainment eventually gave up the hunt for a suitor and decided to release the film through sister company Magnolia. You almost wonder if a cataclysmic premiere in another town would have been preferable — at least distaste or disgust might have aroused curiosity. You’d imagine there’d be more gravy to milk from anger than from a shrug. As it is, you can understand why buyer interest would be restrained. What Just Happened? is rarely unpleasant, but it even more rarely feels like it’s doing much of anything at all. Originally posted on:SpoutBlog » Karina Longworth
]]>Fri, 17 Oct 2008 18:00:54 GMTKarinaKarina on SpoutBlog10/17/2008 2:00:54 PMHollywood has been making movies about movies almost as long as they’ve been making movies. But what’s the appeal of a movie about a movie? Assuming there is one; according to Box Office Mojo, a movie about a movie hasn’t grossed significantly over $100 million in twenty years, and that one had the obvious advantage of offering a glimpse into the marriage of a cartoon bombshell and a rabbit. But what is it that makes the legitimately great Hollywood movies––the Sunset Boulevards, the Bad and the Beautifuls, the Players –– legitimately great? Maybe at some point, they were able to convincingly offer the illusion that one had been temporarily invited into an inner sanctum, seen the secret lives of stars, given a lesson in how the sausage is made, but today it’s hard to imagine anyone really believing that a given film has the power to blow the lid off the dream factory. The great Hollywood movies do traffic in the illusion of taking the viewer “inside,” but by layering irony, melodrama, and critique, they never fully strip Hollywood of its inherent mystery, which verges on mysticism. Hollywood plays itself best when reinforcing the tenants of its own myth, particularly those involving stars. At the end of a serious film about the movies, even a bone-dry satire like The Player, we’re supposed to walk away remaining a bit mystified as to the way that world works, as if it’s beyond and above both the constraints and the moral codes of “real life.” Old Hollywood reinforced its structuring lies by making movies which pushed the tacit understanding that us mere mortals would be out of our league if ever asked to operate under Hollywood’s dark laws. What Just Happened? doesn’t feel like a serious film, but that’s not necessarily a reason to not recommend it. The reason to not recommend it is that it has no concept of that sense of mystery, and without it, it feels like there’s nothing at stake. And also, its best joke is the suggestion that Bruce Willis might be concerned with his own artistic integrity. Lacking any sense of connection to classical Hollywood meta-mythology yet filled with late 20th century cliche (Hollywood: it employs a lot of Jews!), Barry Levinson’s dramatization of real-life producer Art Linson’s memoir plays a lot like a feature-length episode of Entourage with a severe shortage of bimbos and hanger-on douchebags. If that sounds like an improvement on the Entourage formula, well, sort of. But the three sources of tensions entangled in Linson’s script never amount to much, which this isn’t a disappointment, exactly, because it was always clear they didn’t have any real weight to begin with. Sprinkled with sore-thumb julienne-cut transitions and the odd deadpan dream sequence, What Just Happened? is an impatient zoom through a couple of days in the life of a harried super-producer (Robert DeNiro) modeled on Linson (who also produced this film). DeNiro battles a number of roughly-sketched personal problems and completely mundane professional problems. Like the Hollywood blockbusters his Linson clone produces (but which the film never sufficiently skewers), each of Happened?’s conflicts can be boiled down to a single, high-concept, 20 words or less logline that leaves no loose end untied. He’s got two weeks to get an addled artiste to tone down his ultraviolent Sean Penn vehicle before Cannes! He’s got three days to get Bruce Willis to stop throwing tantrums and shave his beard before the cameras roll! He’s got an open invite for nooners with his ex-wife, even though she’s clearly sleeping with a screenwriter with an argyle fetish! Of course, the best moments have nothing to do with any of these ticking time bombs; DeNiro is able to momentarily resucitate interest when animating Linson in his down time–when he quietly breaks out the Just For Men, when he slips into an angry fantasy at a funeral and then slips right out again. Otherwise, he’s just playing connect the dots. That the bulk of the narrative streams out from a disasterous out-of-town test screening is unfortunate. As you may have heard by now, What Just Happened premiered at Sundance in January as a title with “buzz”, but once unveiled it was greeted with general indifference. Its Cannes premiere went a bit better, but an American distribution deal still proved elusive, and producers 2929 Entertainment eventually gave up the hunt for a suitor and decided to release the film through sister company Magnolia. You almost wonder if a cataclysmic premiere in another town would have been preferable — at least distaste or disgust might have aroused curiosity. You’d imagine there’d be more gravy to milk from anger than from a shrug. As it is, you can understand why buyer interest would be restrained. What Just Happened? is rarely unpleasant, but it even more rarely feels like it’s doing much of anything at all. Originally posted on:SpoutBlog » Karina Longworth http://www.spout.com/blogs/spoutblog/archive/2008/10/17/36454.aspx Post By: SpoutBlog
Post To: SpoutBlog on spout.com
Post Date: 10/17/2008 2:00:44 PM
Body: Hollywood has been making movies about movies almost as long as they’ve been making movies. But what’s the appeal of a movie about a movie? Assuming there is one; according to Box Office Mojo, a movie about a movie hasn’t grossed significantly over $100 million in twenty years, and that one had the obvious advantage of offering a glimpse into the marriage of a cartoon bombshell and a rabbit. But what is it that makes the legitimately great Hollywood movies––the Sunset Boulevards, the Bad and the Beautifuls, the Players –– legitimately great? Maybe at some point, they were able to convincingly offer the illusion that one had been temporarily invited into an inner sanctum, seen the secret lives of stars, given a lesson in how the sausage is made, but today it’s hard to imagine anyone really believing that a given film has the power to blow the lid off the dream factory. The great Hollywood movies do traffic in the illusion of taking the viewer “inside,” but by layering irony, melodrama, and critique, they never fully strip Hollywood of its inherent mystery, which verges on mysticism. Hollywood plays itself best when reinforcing the tenants of its own myth, particularly those involving stars. At the end of a serious film about the movies, even a bone-dry satire like The Player, we’re supposed to walk away remaining a bit mystified as to the way that world works, as if it’s beyond and above both the constraints and the moral codes of “real life.” Old Hollywood reinforced its structuring lies by making movies which pushed the tacit understanding that us mere mortals would be out of our league if ever asked to operate under Hollywood’s dark laws. What Just Happened? doesn’t feel like a serious film, but that’s not necessarily a reason to not recommend it. The reason to not recommend it is that it has no concept of that sense of mystery, and without it, it feels like there’s nothing at stake. And also, its best joke is the suggestion that Bruce Willis might be concerned with his own artistic integrity. Lacking any sense of connection to classical Hollywood meta-mythology yet filled with late 20th century cliche (Hollywood: it employs a lot of Jews!), Barry Levinson’s dramatization of real-life producer Art Linson’s memoir plays a lot like a feature-length episode of Entourage with a severe shortage of bimbos and hanger-on douchebags. If that sounds like an improvement on the Entourage formula, well, sort of. But the three sources of tensions entangled in Linson’s script never amount to much, which this isn’t a disappointment, exactly, because it was always clear they didn’t have any real weight to begin with. Sprinkled with sore-thumb julienne-cut transitions and the odd deadpan dream sequence, What Just Happened? is an impatient zoom through a couple of days in the life of a harried super-producer (Robert DeNiro) modeled on Linson (who also produced this film). DeNiro battles a number of roughly-sketched personal problems and completely mundane professional problems. Like the Hollywood blockbusters his Linson clone produces (but which the film never sufficiently skewers), each of Happened?’s conflicts can be boiled down to a single, high-concept, 20 words or less logline that leaves no loose end untied. He’s got two weeks to get an addled artiste to tone down his ultraviolent Sean Penn vehicle before Cannes! He’s got three days to get Bruce Willis to stop throwing tantrums and shave his beard before the cameras roll! He’s got an open invite for nooners with his ex-wife, even though she’s clearly sleeping with a screenwriter with an argyle fetish! Of course, the best moments have nothing to do with any of these ticking time bombs; DeNiro is able to momentarily resucitate interest when animating Linson in his down time–when he quietly breaks out the Just For Men, when he slips into an angry fantasy at a funeral and then slips right out again. Otherwise, he’s just playing connect the dots. That the bulk of the narrative streams out from a disasterous out-of-town test screening is unfortunate. As you may have heard by now, What Just Happened premiered at Sundance in January as a title with “buzz”, but once unveiled it was greeted with general indifference. Its Cannes premiere went a bit better, but an American distribution deal still proved elusive, and producers 2929 Entertainment eventually gave up the hunt for a suitor and decided to release the film through sister company Magnolia. You almost wonder if a cataclysmic premiere in another town would have been preferable — at least distaste or disgust might have aroused curiosity. You’d imagine there’d be more gravy to milk from anger than from a shrug. As it is, you can understand why buyer interest would be restrained. What Just Happened? is rarely unpleasant, but it even more rarely feels like it’s doing much of anything at all. Originally posted on:SpoutBlog
]]>Fri, 17 Oct 2008 18:00:44 GMTSpoutBlogSpoutBlog on spout.com10/17/2008 2:00:44 PMHollywood has been making movies about movies almost as long as they’ve been making movies. But what’s the appeal of a movie about a movie? Assuming there is one; according to Box Office Mojo, a movie about a movie hasn’t grossed significantly over $100 million in twenty years, and that one had the obvious advantage of offering a glimpse into the marriage of a cartoon bombshell and a rabbit. But what is it that makes the legitimately great Hollywood movies––the Sunset Boulevards, the Bad and the Beautifuls, the Players –– legitimately great? Maybe at some point, they were able to convincingly offer the illusion that one had been temporarily invited into an inner sanctum, seen the secret lives of stars, given a lesson in how the sausage is made, but today it’s hard to imagine anyone really believing that a given film has the power to blow the lid off the dream factory. The great Hollywood movies do traffic in the illusion of taking the viewer “inside,” but by layering irony, melodrama, and critique, they never fully strip Hollywood of its inherent mystery, which verges on mysticism. Hollywood plays itself best when reinforcing the tenants of its own myth, particularly those involving stars. At the end of a serious film about the movies, even a bone-dry satire like The Player, we’re supposed to walk away remaining a bit mystified as to the way that world works, as if it’s beyond and above both the constraints and the moral codes of “real life.” Old Hollywood reinforced its structuring lies by making movies which pushed the tacit understanding that us mere mortals would be out of our league if ever asked to operate under Hollywood’s dark laws. What Just Happened? doesn’t feel like a serious film, but that’s not necessarily a reason to not recommend it. The reason to not recommend it is that it has no concept of that sense of mystery, and without it, it feels like there’s nothing at stake. And also, its best joke is the suggestion that Bruce Willis might be concerned with his own artistic integrity. Lacking any sense of connection to classical Hollywood meta-mythology yet filled with late 20th century cliche (Hollywood: it employs a lot of Jews!), Barry Levinson’s dramatization of real-life producer Art Linson’s memoir plays a lot like a feature-length episode of Entourage with a severe shortage of bimbos and hanger-on douchebags. If that sounds like an improvement on the Entourage formula, well, sort of. But the three sources of tensions entangled in Linson’s script never amount to much, which this isn’t a disappointment, exactly, because it was always clear they didn’t have any real weight to begin with. Sprinkled with sore-thumb julienne-cut transitions and the odd deadpan dream sequence, What Just Happened? is an impatient zoom through a couple of days in the life of a harried super-producer (Robert DeNiro) modeled on Linson (who also produced this film). DeNiro battles a number of roughly-sketched personal problems and completely mundane professional problems. Like the Hollywood blockbusters his Linson clone produces (but which the film never sufficiently skewers), each of Happened?’s conflicts can be boiled down to a single, high-concept, 20 words or less logline that leaves no loose end untied. He’s got two weeks to get an addled artiste to tone down his ultraviolent Sean Penn vehicle before Cannes! He’s got three days to get Bruce Willis to stop throwing tantrums and shave his beard before the cameras roll! He’s got an open invite for nooners with his ex-wife, even though she’s clearly sleeping with a screenwriter with an argyle fetish! Of course, the best moments have nothing to do with any of these ticking time bombs; DeNiro is able to momentarily resucitate interest when animating Linson in his down time–when he quietly breaks out the Just For Men, when he slips into an angry fantasy at a funeral and then slips right out again. Otherwise, he’s just playing connect the dots. That the bulk of the narrative streams out from a disasterous out-of-town test screening is unfortunate. As you may have heard by now, What Just Happened premiered at Sundance in January as a title with “buzz”, but once unveiled it was greeted with general indifference. Its Cannes premiere went a bit better, but an American distribution deal still proved elusive, and producers 2929 Entertainment eventually gave up the hunt for a suitor and decided to release the film through sister company Magnolia. You almost wonder if a cataclysmic premiere in another town would have been preferable — at least distaste or disgust might have aroused curiosity. You’d imagine there’d be more gravy to milk from anger than from a shrug. As it is, you can understand why buyer interest would be restrained. What Just Happened? is rarely unpleasant, but it even more rarely feels like it’s doing much of anything at all. Originally posted on:SpoutBlog http://www.spout.com/blogs/jjgittes/archive/2008/2/11/24979.aspx Post By: jjgittes
Post To: jjgittes Blog
Post Date: 2/11/2008 1:40:39 PM
Body: Believe it or not, I had not seen this film before and therefore, it was probably my most anticipated Reel 13 film yet. After all, it’s a film I supposed was right up my alley – behind the scenes of old Hollywood, it had some actors I was excited about (Dick Powell and Gloria Grahame) and for some reason I was under the impression that it was directed by Douglas Sirk, whom I love. As the opening credits rolled, I was embarrassed to learn that it was actually a Vincente Minnelli film (I don’t know where I got the crazy idea that it came from Sirk – maybe the melodramatic title…), which didn’t dampen my spirits at all. Minnelli, probably best known for his musicals, is a very capable filmmaker and has handled some good drama in his time, namely Lust for Life. However, as the film started to unspool on my television set – that’s when my spirits got dampened. I can’t label The Bad and the Beautiful as anything but a disappointment. Sure, my expectations were high, but I still say the film underachieves. While there are a few really good scenes (I like the scene in which Kirk Douglas is waiting for Lana Turner in her bedroom and the scene when her character films the final scene of her first movie and all the crew stops in their tracks and watches proudly), I think the film’s downfall is its narrative structure, which features three separate film professionals (Barry Sullivan, Turner and Powell) sitting in the office of a movie magnate and recollecting how producer Jonathan Shields (Douglas) came into and affected each of their lives. Does that sound familiar? It should if you have ever seen Citizen Kane, made 11 years earlier. Kane makes the device work by sending the faceless reporter from person to person to interview them. Here, all the narrators are gathered in one place under the auspices of being offered another chance to work with Shields and they each just vomit up their individual sagas as if it were a daily ritual. It’s all so unfortunately contrived. You might argue that some of the devices of older films like this that seem awkward today need to be accepted and looked at within the historical context of the film – an argument that I find myself making often. However, I don’t think that’s the case here. I think this was lazy storytelling then, just as it would be now. The performances offered some surprises as well. I have always been a big Gloria Grahame fan. Those eyes of hers and her presence just SCREAM sex to me. She is fun, sassy and great in films like Oklahoma, The Greatest Show on Earth and even It’s a Wonderful Life. She won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her work on this film, so I had high expectations for her as well. She doesn’t appear until ¾ through the film and then she disappears quickly after that. Worst of all is that even during her brief screen time, she seems really off her game – she’s more a nuisance than anything else as Powell’s Southern belle wife. The accent is fine, but she doesn’t seem to offer any depth to the character whatsoever – almost as if she were phoning it in. (This brings up another revisionist Oscar vote – Best Supporting Actress of 1952 – how in the world did Grahame beat Jean Hagen as Lina Lamont in Singin’ in the Rain? What do you guys think?) On the flip side, Kirk Douglas and Lana Turner, more well-known for being movie stars than actors (in the most esoteric sense of the word), deliver outstanding, layered and nuanced performances. With the exception of an unfortunate car scene (which I blame more on Minnelli), Turner avoids the histrionics that are normally associated with films like this (a trap she will fall into later in her career). She also manages to look stunningly gorgeous while at the same time, making her character’s vulnerability very real and believable. Douglas is best when either playing smarmy confidence (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) or righteous indignation (Spartacus). Here, in a way, he gets to do both and as a result, he ignites the film whenever he is on-screen. It is easy to see why the three lost souls in the magnate’s office were so drawn to him in the first place. In spite of these fine performances and also some additional good supporting work from Walter Pidgeon and Dick Powell, The Bad and the Beautiful is never able to overcome that initial hurdle of poor structure. Why couldn’t the story be told chronologically? Would that have been so awful? And now that we’re discussing it, what’s the point of the story anyway? Shields gives each of them a chance to shine and then moves on (albeit sometimes in a not-so-ethical way). So what? Who cares? Where’s the beef, as they say? Perhaps the episodic nature of the film diluted its potential impact, but even if the film were told sans flashbacks, I wonder if the film still wouldn’t feel as empty as it does.
]]>Mon, 11 Feb 2008 18:40:39 GMTjjgittesjjgittes Blog2/11/2008 1:40:39 PMBelieve it or not, I had not seen this film before and therefore, it was probably my most anticipated Reel 13 film yet. After all, it&rsquo;s a film I supposed was right up my alley &ndash; behind the scenes of old Hollywood, it had some actors I was excited about (Dick Powell and Gloria Grahame) and for some reason I was under the impression that it was directed by Douglas Sirk, whom I love. As the opening credits rolled, I was embarrassed to learn that it was actually a Vincente Minnelli film (I don&rsquo;t know where I got the crazy idea that it came from Sirk &ndash; maybe the melodramatic title&hellip;), which didn&rsquo;t dampen my spirits at all. Minnelli, probably best known for his musicals, is a very capable filmmaker and has handled some good drama in his time, namely Lust for Life. However, as the film started to unspool on my television set &ndash; that&rsquo;s when my spirits got dampened. I can&rsquo;t label The Bad and the Beautiful as anything but a disappointment. Sure, my expectations were high, but I still say the film underachieves. While there are a few really good scenes (I like the scene in which Kirk Douglas is waiting for Lana Turner in her bedroom and the scene when her character films the final scene of her first movie and all the crew stops in their tracks and watches proudly), I think the film&rsquo;s downfall is its narrative structure, which features three separate film professionals (Barry Sullivan, Turner and Powell) sitting in the office of a movie magnate and recollecting how producer Jonathan Shields (Douglas) came into and affected each of their lives. Does that sound familiar? It should if you have ever seen Citizen Kane, made 11 years earlier. Kane makes the device work by sending the faceless reporter from person to person to interview them. Here, all the narrators are gathered in one place under the auspices of being offered another chance to work with Shields and they each just vomit up their individual sagas as if it were a daily ritual. It&rsquo;s all so unfortunately contrived. You might argue that some of the devices of older films like this that seem awkward today need to be accepted and looked at within the historical context of the film &ndash; an argument that I find myself making often. However, I don&rsquo;t think that&rsquo;s the case here. I think this was lazy storytelling then, just as it would be now. The performances offered some surprises as well. I have always been a big Gloria Grahame fan. Those eyes of hers and her presence just SCREAM sex to me. She is fun, sassy and great in films like Oklahoma, The Greatest Show on Earth and even It&rsquo;s a Wonderful Life. She won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her work on this film, so I had high expectations for her as well. She doesn&rsquo;t appear until &frac34; through the film and then she disappears quickly after that. Worst of all is that even during her brief screen time, she seems really off her game &ndash; she&rsquo;s more a nuisance than anything else as Powell&rsquo;s Southern belle wife. The accent is fine, but she doesn&rsquo;t seem to offer any depth to the character whatsoever &ndash; almost as if she were phoning it in. (This brings up another revisionist Oscar vote &ndash; Best Supporting Actress of 1952 &ndash; how in the world did Grahame beat Jean Hagen as Lina Lamont in Singin&rsquo; in the Rain? What do you guys think?) On the flip side, Kirk Douglas and Lana Turner, more well-known for being movie stars than actors (in the most esoteric sense of the word), deliver outstanding, layered and nuanced performances. With the exception of an unfortunate car scene (which I blame more on Minnelli), Turner avoids the histrionics that are normally associated with films like this (a trap she will fall into later in her career). She also manages to look stunningly gorgeous while at the same time, making her character&rsquo;s vulnerability very real and believable. Douglas is best when either playing smarmy confidence (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) or righteous indignation (Spartacus). Here, in a way, he gets to do both and as a result, he ignites the film whenever he is on-screen. It is easy to see why the three lost souls in the magnate&rsquo;s office were so drawn to him in the first place. In spite of these fine performances and also some additional good supporting work from Walter Pidgeon and Dick Powell, The Bad and the Beautiful is never able to overcome that initial hurdle of poor structure. Why couldn&rsquo;t the story be told chronologically? Would that have been so awful? And now that we&rsquo;re discussing it, what&rsquo;s the point of the story anyway? Shields gives each of them a chance to shine and then moves on (albeit sometimes in a not-so-ethical way). So what? Who cares? Where&rsquo;s the beef, as they say? Perhaps the episodic nature of the film diluted its potential impact, but even if the film were told sans flashbacks, I wonder if the film still wouldn&rsquo;t feel as empty as it does. http://www.spout.com/blogs/spoutblog/archive/2007/8/15/18141.aspx Post By: SpoutBlog
Post To: SpoutBlog on spout.com
Post Date: 8/15/2007 1:04:05 PM
Body: With a five-day tribute to director Vincente Minnelli’s melodramas starting tonight at Anthology Film Archives, I stayed up late last night to watch The Bad and the Beautiful on TCM On Demand. The Bad and the Beautiful marked Minnelli’s first real success as a director of “serious”, non-musical pictures. It’s less self-assured than Some Came Running (to my mind, the masterpiece of Minnelli’s melodramas), but seemingly a hell of a lot more personal. Released in 1952, it was the director’s follow-up to the Oscar-winning An American in Paris, and it landed smack dab in the middle of a series of Hollywood elegies to Hollywood. In both tone and function, The Bad and the Beautiful can be seen as a bridge between Sunset Boulevard (1950) and A Star is Born (1954). If Billy Wilder’s Sunset represented Golden Era Hollywood at the height of its self-loathing, and George Cukor’s Star both satirized and condemned Hollywood’s ability to mobilize that self-loathing into reification of its founding myths, Minnelli’s almost naive faith in the sheer value of film as art allowed him to deconstruct that myth-making with sympathy for all involved. It’s industrial critique-as-soap opera, which makes it potentially the most accessible film to come out of this wave of highest Hollywood narcissism. (more…) Originally posted on:Spoutblog
]]>Wed, 15 Aug 2007 17:04:05 GMTSpoutBlogSpoutBlog on spout.com8/15/2007 1:04:05 PMWith a five-day tribute to director Vincente Minnelli’s melodramas starting tonight at Anthology Film Archives, I stayed up late last night to watch The Bad and the Beautiful on TCM On Demand. The Bad and the Beautiful marked Minnelli’s first real success as a director of “serious”, non-musical pictures. It’s less self-assured than Some Came Running (to my mind, the masterpiece of Minnelli’s melodramas), but seemingly a hell of a lot more personal. Released in 1952, it was the director’s follow-up to the Oscar-winning An American in Paris, and it landed smack dab in the middle of a series of Hollywood elegies to Hollywood. In both tone and function, The Bad and the Beautiful can be seen as a bridge between Sunset Boulevard (1950) and A Star is Born (1954). If Billy Wilder’s Sunset represented Golden Era Hollywood at the height of its self-loathing, and George Cukor’s Star both satirized and condemned Hollywood’s ability to mobilize that self-loathing into reification of its founding myths, Minnelli’s almost naive faith in the sheer value of film as art allowed him to deconstruct that myth-making with sympathy for all involved. It’s industrial critique-as-soap opera, which makes it potentially the most accessible film to come out of this wave of highest Hollywood narcissism. (more…) Originally posted on:Spoutblog http://www.spout.com/members/0/tags/actor/MemberTagFilms.aspxactor
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