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SlipOfTheTongue Blog

  • Garbage Floats

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    Poseidon  (2006)

    POSEIDON (2006) is a remake of the beloved cheezeball classic THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE (1972).  The 2006 version barely merits discussion except that it so completely epitomizes everything that’s wrong with the culture of American movie making today.  Had the producers done their job, POSEIDON could have been crafted as a disaster movie extraordinaire.  The goal could have been to “out-Titanic” TITANIC with state of the art visual effects, action-disaster stunt set pieces and genuine moments of pathos (they could have gone for cheeze or could have kept it real…either way would have worked).  Instead the movie barely registers on the emotional radar.  The memory of this film doesn't last the time it takes for a sneeze to dissipate in the wind.

    We have passable somewhat compulsory visual effects shots that tell the story.  We have characters that in some cases are updated slightly (one of them is gay) and in some cases characterizations have regressed.  Gone is the blue-collar dialectic between Gene Hackman and Ernest Borgnine and in its place are the likeable somewhat sleepy Kurt Russell (he’s a fireman) and a very bland Josh Lucas (professional gambler, get the metaphor?).  Let’s just say that the characterizations are movie of the week quality at best.  The performances and the dialogue are so uninteresting that it’s like watching a cadre of zombies walk stupidly into an inferno.  What a bunch of dopes, you think to yourself.  One curious moment has Richard Dreyfuss (the aforementioned gay character) hanging from the requisite decomposing elevator shaft.  He has to choose between kicking loose the likeable Freddy Rodriguez so that he can hoist himself up (thus avoiding the break free elevator) or trying to help Rodriguez while losing valuable time.  Suffice it to say, Dreyfuss chooses “life”.  Yay!  He’s gay but he can also be tough.  Americans prefer toughness these days.  Maybe Rodriguez was a Democrat and Dreyfuss was a Log Cabin Republican trying to ratchet up on the butchness.  What a dumb moment.  The movie becomes dumber from that point on.  Its meandering downward journey (in quality) is the metaphorical opposite of the journey upward to the bough that the passengers are trying to make.

    There are other heavy-handed moments designed to maximize brain dead audience whooping.  Kevin Dillon (love him in Entourage) gets crushed by falling debris after mouthing off for five minutes (he’s supposed to deserve death I guess because he’s a loudmouth).  The setup is so clumsy and obvious that you end up loathing the filmmakers for thinking you’d cheer.  And so it goes…

    POSEIDON doesn’t hold water. The movie is one giant air pocket with a leak.  Don’t rent it.  Don’t buy it.  Shame on Wolfgang Petersen (the director), as well as the writers and the producers.  

    Hopefully, for those of you brave enough to find pleasure in the tacky, glorious 1972 original, a review is forthcoming.  That one is a keeper. 


  • Echoes of the Adams Family

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    The best thing about THE BEAST WITH FIVE FINGERS is that after a lengthy and somewhat uninteresting build, the movie suddenly takes a left turn into comedy and fortunately it stays there until its somewhat ridiculous conclusion.  The undeniable highlight is Peter Lorre's performance as the "male secretary" of a deceased classical pianist.  Once dead and in the crypt, the pianist (apparently) severs one of his playing hands which then begins to run all over an Italian estate murdering people.  It's hysterical to watch Lorre slowly become unraveled as he is menaced by the crawling hand.  Lit in classic 40's style (horror lighting) from underneath the "print" is timed way, way down (the movie is extremely dark with little detail in the blacks, most likely an attempt to conceal the black felt sleeve visual effects lurking just below the hand).  The plot is nothing interesting.  It includes an older man obsessed with a younger woman, the relatives of the deceased fighting over a will, a local inspector prowling about the estate for clues, and other B-movie conventions.  Goofy good fun...not much here except for Lorre and a few funny shots of the bodiless hand playing piano.  I have to admit I was amused.

  • Revisiting the Eighth Wonder

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    King Kong  (1933)

    King Kong (1933) is that rare commodity, a classic  that  stands almost above contemporary criticism.  It’s a fine movie and meant a lot to the United States film market at its time of release.  What makes a great motion picture great when it can be argued that it is also dated in some respects?  In this case, many things conspired to create a story that defies logic and returns an end result that stands outside of time.

    When looking at the original Kong, one shouldn’t start by analyzing the visual effects but rather by marveling at the economy and precision of the script.  This is where most great movies begin and end.  Major characters are introduced and  backstories  are revealed quickly through bits of dialogue.  Carl Denham and shipmates are established as adventurers that travel  together and are world savvy.  We establish that they are on the run but Denham is still determined to make a picture.  Jack Driscoll  (Bruce Cabbot) is somewhat of a dated archetype, but as archetypes go he is a man’s man we admire simply because he is plain spoken and brave.  Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) is introduced as a ravishing down and out actress who is living on the edge.  Next we establish mood as the legend of Kong and Skull Island are revealed.  All of this takes neither a moment more nor less than absolutely necessary.  In one scene in which Darrow is screen  tested on the deck of the ship, our sense of impending dread is heightened as Denham tells her to look up and imagine seeing something terrifying.  He is preparing her (and us).  The moment culminates in one of Wray’s signature screams.  RKO reportedly wanted this scene cut from the original release but it is essential to the tension being built at this point in the story.

    Once on the island we see that our worldly adventurers are out of their league.  They encounter  an uncooperative native tribe and rare species of threatening  wildlife.  Then Kong is revealed and quickly makes off with Darrow.  The chase is on.  You see how it goes.  Every single step in this story is essential either to establish character, mood, or a sense of place.  It feels so effortless as to be simplistic but it’s not.  It is simply a work of popular art.  Casablanca was such a picture.  Every narrative  “hair” in place.  Every piece pushes you toward the inevitable tragic conclusion.

    Doubling back to the visual effects, they were groundbreaking for their day and remain an imaginative showcase.  The matte paintings have a sense of depth and artistry.  We are shown foreground, mid-ground and distance giving the composites a feel of scale and believability.  People walk in and out of the frame past the matte work interacting seamlessly with their environments and with the stop motion puppetry.  The backgrounds have a Dante-esque quality that heightens the feeling that you are in a terrifying place where humans are tiny.  On the subject of Kong, Willis O’brien, a pioneer of stop motion animation,  is the party responsible for his creation.  O’brien’s work  inspired the great Ray Harryhausen.  Even today the effect of seeing Kong blast through the wooden gates on the island remains terrifying and wondrous to watch . 

    King Kong is an almost childlike creature trapped in his environment, simultaneously dominating his world and being attacked by it.  His character  is, metaphorically, us (more specifically the modern male).  Despite looking like a stop motion puppet, we feel for Kong because his struggle to survive is not unlike our own.  The character’s humanity is not so much a function of how believable the puppetry is, it is a function  how well the story is told.  Kong is a metaphor for man in an untamable surrounding.  He is expected (by the needs of the story) to retain his “humanity” while those around him are trying to murder him or challenge his dominance.  Remind you of the rat race?  It does me.  It is on this level, that the subtext plays out so well in the 1933 Kong.  In Peter Jackson’s  2005 remake, the CG Kong is actually a more believable creature, more human and in some ways more moving to behold but the story that  surrounds  the remake is so bloated and self indulgent that the “Kong as man” metaphor loses its resonance and the story fails.   It is astounding that Jackson missed this in his remake.  Visual effects are fun but they are nothing if you botch the pacing and rely too much on effects as sideshow.

    Merian C. Cooper’s sense of adventure pervades the 1933 film.  Cooper gave the country a fantastic peek at things that "might be" in other parts of the world.  As directed by him, the movie felt like the genuine product of an adventurous spirit – one not unlike the character of Carl Denham in the movie.

    I talked earlier about the 1933 Kong being successful  combination of so many great elements.  One has to cite the greatness of Max Steiner’s evocative score.  The score establishes the island as a place to dread and creates a sense of fear that, once established, never lets us go. 

    The truly great thing about classics like King Kong and Casablanca and The Wizard of Oz is that their greatness depends on so many people.  The inherent quality comes from the script. To this we add the contributions  (listed above) from gifted individuals like Steiner, Cooper and O’brien who are at the top of their game.  Shake gently and add a dash of predestination and you have a classic.  Sounds easy, eh?  Well, probably not.

    We harbor in our lives Kong’s essential feeling of aloneness…and the feeling that we must be constantly on guard.  We empathize with him and when the time comes, we die with him.  We can try to tell ourselves that King Kong is a metal jointed puppet covered in fabric and rabbit fur.  But that hairy hand is always lurking outside our bedroom window too.  We are not safe in our beds.  We are destined to fail simply by virtue of having been alive.  The individual can only hold out for so long.  There are too many creepy crawlies and major bullies waiting to try and knock us off the hill.  There are too many opportunistic humans that conspire to survive their own individual struggles by mortgaging their humanity in order to turn a quick dollar or hear the roar of an appreciative crowd.  You have to wonder if we empathize with Kong because we are like him.  Maybe we only wish we could be.  Maybe we are the pilots in those biplanes that climb aboard and do our duty and try to maintain order at all costs.  We drop our payloads on our fellow man.  Maybe we are the ones that killed King Kong – a metaphor for our own dreams.  All hail mankind, the eighth wonder of the world.


 

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