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  • Medicine for the Daily Show. BlogNosh 06/04/08

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    Made in America  (2009)

    • Erin at Steady Diet of Film alerts us to the news (which we might have figured out for ourselves, except that we have a bad habit of being in bars at 11pm on weeknights––we swear, we’re working on cutting back on that) that Medicine for Melancholy star Wyatt Cenac is now a correspondent for The Daily Show. His first segment, in which he attempts to understand primary season through the rubrick of plot developments on Lost, is embedded above. We’ll give you a preview: “A polar bear on a tropical island? There are so many reasons why that’s AMAZING!”
    • Stacy Peralta’s was reproached for his lackadaisical sense of style by the gang member subjects of his doc Made in America. He tells Vulture: “These guys don’t step out the house unless they’re dressed really well. In fact, a couple of our subjects took me to task for how I looked. I’d be wearing a pair of Levis and a T-shirt, and they’d ask me, ‘Do you dress like that every day? You oughta think about how you dress more often.’”
    • The MPAA be damned, Ridley Scott might make an uncensored film based on Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, and the very prospect has filmdrunk oversharing. Concludes a post headlined “BONER ALERT”: “Like all really violent things, it makes me slightly sexually excited.  That’s healthy, right?”

    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • Dial S&M For Marnie

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    Marnie  (1964)

    Marnie is the film in the Hitchcock canon most guaranteed to rankle feminists.  Tippi Hedren plays the frigid, thieving titular character whose only hope for salvation is at the hands of strong, virile Mark Rutland, eagerly embodied by Sean Connery, who blackmails her into marrying him – and makes her enjoy his punishment.  Most Marnie enthusiasts answer accusations of misogyny by ducking under the director’s craft, as in “Yeah, Connery plays a sadistic hero – but look at the way Hitch frames the back of Hedren’s head!” – as if the plot needs to be apologized for, swept under the rug.

    What neither the feminists nor cinephiles seem to appreciate is that Marnie is one of the greatest bondage and discipline (B&D in sadomasochistic parlance) pics of all time. Artfully disguised as a psychosexual thriller, Hitchcock’s classic is actually kin to The Story of O with Hedren’s O-like Marnie at the sole mercy of Sir Connery’s sexy daddy (think Sir Stephen), reduced to being trapped like a wild animal to be broken and trained, owned and cared for, eventually becoming Rutland’s wife/slave. This ain’t misogyny – it’s erotic art!

    She was “always pulling her skirt down over her knees as if there were a national treasure,” Marnie’s lecherous employer-turned-victim Mr. Strutt mutters at the beginning of Hitch’s classic, introducing us to Hedren’s character as a trobbing ****-tease – who, of course, needs to be punished like the naughty little girl she really is deep down inside. Enter Connery’s controlling Master Rutland, immaculately dressed in suit and tie (I love a man in a uniform!), a big bad wolf smile on his face as he eavesdrops on Strutt’s report to the police. Is there any doubt that this is the perfect square-jawed, hairy-chest daddy for the B&D job?

    Naturally, though, it’s Marnie who subconsciously seeks out her punishment. After a scene in which she tells her horse, “If you want to bite somebody, bite me,” followed by another in which her forever disapproving mother says Marnie’s blonde hair makes her look like she’s “trying to attract a man,” Marnie goes to rich Daddy Rutland’s company for employment, and perhaps a bit more. As an underling conducts the job interview Master Rutland silently watches Marnie’s every move from a corner in the office, his eyes dancing with that familiar, “I wonder what her bare bottom would look like over my knee” gaze.

    Once Marnie is hired she enthusiastically agrees to some overtime at Master Rutland’s mansion/castle, where she glimpses a photo of his pet wildcat. “I trained her,” Rutland offers smugly. “What did you train her to do?” Marnie wonders innocently. “To trust me,” he replies. “Is that all?” she asks. “Well, that’s a great deal…” Rutland answers in his best Sir Stephen-to-O mode. Later, after soothing the regressing-to-childhood
    Marnie during a lightning storm, the dominant, aggressive, cocky Rutland makes plans to take her to the racetrack. (“Are you fond of horses?” Marnie questions. “No, not at all.”)

    Alas, when wayward Marnie inevitably steals from Rutland he confronts her as she’s out riding, ordering her down from the horse. “You’ll walk back to the stable. I’ll ride,” Master Rutland commands, putting her in her proper submissive place. (“I’m fighting a powerful impulse to beat the hell out of you,” he later adds.)

    Thus the slave training has begun. It’s all for Marnie’s sake, of course. “You’re such a tempting little thing…Some other sexual blackmailer would have got his hands on you, and the chances of it being someone as permissive as me are pretty remote,” Rutland proclaims, justifying his ownership. And soon it’s off to a splendid honeymoon cruise, a montage of Master training Marnie in the minutiae of society life, the evening ending in a near rape. “But I do very much want to go to bed,” Rutland implores, dueling with his libido. “No!” Marnie shouts and her nightgown drops to the floor. Immediately Master regrets losing control, wraps her in his bathrobe, kisses her tenderly. (Daddy’s sorry.) But Hitchcock ends the scene on a close up of Marnie’s glazed eyes, and a cut to Rutland’s hot and bothered pupils.

    And the training continues back at the mansion/castle. “This is the drill, dear. Wife follows husband to front door,” Master explains, cracking the whip now that he’s got Marnie in bondage (confined to the house like in a “correction facility”), subject to his discipline at a moment’s notice. Fortunately pliable Marnie behaves for the most part, doesn’t attempt to escape. Daddy rewards his little girl with her horse. (Much to the chagrin of Diane Baker’s jealous Lil, who naughtily tells Master, “I’m queer for liars,” then later finds his stash of psychiatric porn lying open on a chair, a book titled Sexual Aberrations of the Criminal Female.)

    Though Marnie may be a slave, she’s not stupid. “You’ve got a pathological fix on a woman who’s not only an admitted criminal but who screams if you go near her. So what about your dreams, daddy dear?” she taunts Rutland. “You’re really dying to play doctor, aren’t you?” And play doctor they do, free-associating until Marnie has a nervous breakdown – only to be comforted by Master (who, naturally, triggered that nervous breakdown). After a long downward spiral that leads to the truth of her childhood trauma – mother was the whore! – Marnie is saved through B&D, finally able to love her manly captor who provides shelter and comfort, smoothes those shiny locks of blonde hair. “Mark, I don’t want to go to jail. I’d rather stay with you,” is Marnie’s last line, her only options. She’s finally discovered happiness in slavery, found freedom in chains.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • 5 Favorite Amnesia Movies

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    Under discussion:

    Overboard  (1987)

    Spellbound  (1945)

    Total Recall  (1990)

    Amateur  (1995)

    Memento  (2001)

    Bourne [Film Series]  Production Year

    Over at the AMC blog SciFi Scanner, there’s a post about the accuracy of Jason Bourne’s condition in the Bourne movies. At the World Science Festival, held last weekend in NYC, there was a panel titled The Brain and Bourne: Neuroscience in the Bourne Trilogy that featured Bourne Identity director Doug Liman and psychiatrist and neuroscientist Giulio Tononi. And according to Tononi, the sort of amnesia that Bourne suffers from, which includes the ability to retain certain skills despite an overall loss of memory, is rare but does exist.

    Interesting, but does it really matter? Nobody making the Bourne movies seems to have known its accuracy, and they probably didn’t care. And neither do most moviegoers. Amnesia is simply a good plot device for movies, and oftentimes they’re more about something else than the condition, accurate or not. So, here’s a list of some of my favorite movies with amnesia at its forefront, plus the respective reasons for my not caring if they are realistic or not.

    1. The Bourne Identity (plus The Bourne Supremacy and The Bourne Ultimatum) - Because I’m not rating these in order, I’ll begin with the one already mentioned. Jason Bourne’s amnesia is, of course, a good excuse for a thrilling story, but to me it’s also a metaphor for U.S. intelligence post-Cold War and certainly post-9/11, showing us how, despite efforts to forget or disconnect from foreign policy decisions and/or controversial operations of the past, certain things, people, relationships (etc.) may come back to bite us on the ass.
    2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - I’m pretty sure that Tononi couldn’t find accuracy in the forced-amnesia process featured in this admittedly fantastical film, and again it wouldn’t matter if he could. The idea of surgically eliminating specific memories is representative of our more general attempts to immediately forget an unsuccessful romantic relationship and the eventual difficulty of trying to recall good times associated with a past love we’re no longer with.
    3. Memento - Here’s a film that supposedly is, like the Bourne trilogy, fairly accurate. But as a device, the amnesia is so much more interesting than as a real condition. I’ve read that it’s a metaphor for “forgetting everything we hold dear when humans embark on a quest and want to succeed at any cost,” and that (courtesy of Simon Cowell) it’s a metaphor for America’s attention span. I’m undecided on which of these I prefer, or if I’d even go with another (there’s surely more ideas out there), but the point is that it doesn’t just have to be about a guy with anterograde amnesia.
    4. Overboard - While on the surface it’s an innocent comedy about a single father who takes advantage of an amnesiac woman of wealth. But it can also be read as a male fantasy in which the feminist movement is forgotten and women return to the pleasures of homemaking … even after they regain their memory. For a sort of reverse of this plot, see Desperately Seeking Susan, in which a housewife loses her memory only to become her fantasy: the liberated, sexually independent woman (as perfectly portrayed by Madonna).
    5. Amateur - Not the first and probably not the best example, but a personal favorite movie dealing with the bad man who’s turned good through amnesia. It’s a more abstract tale of identity reinvention than others, and Roger Ebert said it best in his review that it’s a movie in which the idea of the plot is more interesting than the plot itself. Most of the film’s characters are attempting to drastically change their lives, but unfortunately not everyone can have the fortune of suffering an amnesia-inducing blow to the head.

    Other favorites include Spellbound, The Muppets Take Manhattan and Total Recall. Certainly I’m excluding a good number of amnesia films, most of which I’ve likely never seen (or, appropriately, I’ve forgotten about them). For a much more comprehensive examination of amnesia at the movies, check out this article written by clinical neuropsychologist Sallie Baxendale.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • Meet Your New Columnists

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    Just a brief note to introduce you to a couple of new SpoutBlog contributors. You may have already noticed that Steven Boone (Big Media Vandalism/The House Next Door) has been popping up here and there for the past couple of weeks. He’s already he’s offered glimpses into the world of halfway house film festivals, a Hollywood production camped out at a Brooklyn housing project, and an alternate universe in which Michael Jackson is an activist filmmaker. Stay tuned for more of Steven every Friday.

    Later today, we’ll be debuting a new column from Lauren Wissot, whose work you might have also read at The House Next Door, and/or The Reeler. Lauren, who will be tackling (no pun intended) sexual themes in indie and classic cinema every Wednesday, will begin with a revisionist take on Alfred Hitchcock’s Marnie. We wanted to call her column “Art Films To Jerk Off To,” but in the end that might be too limiting––after all, who’s to say what qualifies as art?

    So please join us in welcoming Lauren and Steven. We’re also looking for additional part-time columnists, so if you have a topic or a genre that you’re dying to explore in bloggy form week in and week out, do send Karina an email.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • Albert Maysles Closes Stranger Than Fiction

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    The weekly documentary series Stranger Than Fiction, curated by the Toronto Film Festival’s Thom Powers and hosted at Manhattan’s IFC Center, wrapped up its Spring 2008 season last night with a screening of two rarely seen films directed by Albert Maysles, a Q & A with the octogenarian documentarian, and the obligatory after-movie cocktail session. If t two films shown offered object lesson’s in Maysles’ combined talents––patience, negotiation, and an unfailing knack at taking advantage of serendipity––the discussion after the screening offered a glimpse into this independent artist’s ever-present conflict between his stated mission and the economic sacrifices that support it.

    Before the screening, Maysles explained that the 13 minute Psychiatry in Russia, his first film, would have been a photo essay had he not ambled into the CBS building whilst in the neighborhood visiting Time/Life. Maysles said he walked into the television network’s New York headquarters and asked for Edward R. Murrow; Murrow was out, so Maysles ended up talking to the head of the news division. He walked out with a 16mm camera and an agreement that CBS would supply him with unlimited film stock, and then pay $1 per foot of developed film that they chose to use. CBS ended up buying just about a minute worth of footage shot by Maysles in a mental institution in Russia; the filmmaker walking away with $14 and the rights to the rest of reels, and walked straight into the PBS affiliate in Boston, where he negotiated access to an edit bay by offering to allow the station to broadcast the finished film for free.

    Carrying a less remarkable story of behind-the-scenes hustle but packing a greater cinematic punch was the evening’s main event, Showman, the first film on which Albert collaborated with his brother David Maysles. Where Psychiatry resembles a newsreel with its comically dated, omnipresent narration, Showman uses just a sprinkling of Albert’s expository voiceover to set up transitions (”Is the movie business dying? There’s one man who doesn’t believe this talk –– or doesn’t listen.”) For the most part, Showman relies on the Maysles’ growing understanding that as documentarians, their job was to sit back and allow life to happen in front of their cameras. I’ve been trying to see Showman since first reading about it ten years ago––it’s not available on DVD and it rarely screens––an the Maysles portrait of B-movie producer Joseph Levine’s adventures in simultaneously selling a schlocky Hercules flick and an Oscar-winning Sophia Loren film didn’t disappoint. In fact, Levine’s knack for using the tactics of genre marketing to sell art films, combined with his determination to serve the masses in the face of critical incredulity, seems surprisingly relevant in light of the contemporary indie distribution situation.

    “You finished the film, and it didn’t have distribution, but you didn’t seem discouraged,” Powers noted after the screening. “What were you thinking?”

    Maysles smiled. “At that time, we were making so much money from doing commercials that we were able to put our own money into the films. Gimme Shelter, Salesman, Grey Gardens––all of those we paid for ourselves.”

    Today, Maysles supports his filmmaking (at 82, he’s still working––last night he described a project-in-progress in which children age 4-6 interview each other, and also said he has plans to edit something out of the footage that resulted from a week in 1963 spent accompanying Orson Welles to bullfights in Madrid), as well as the non-profit community center he opened in Harlem in 2006 which offers filmmaking instruction and screenings for local disadvantaged kids, through Maysles Films, through which he and partners direct television commercials and industrials. Which makes puts the following quote, from late in last night’s Q & A session, in a quizzical context:

    “We’ve lost our humanity in the mass media, and I aim to restore that the best I can,” Maysles declared. “The TV commercial, to my mind, is the worst example of that.”

    You might expect a filmmaker who has funded some of the greatest documentaries in the history of the form through commercial moonlighting to have a philosophical view of the balance between art and commerce, or at least not be quite as quick to blame the downfall of civilization on the source of so many paychecks. It would be fascinating to really get Maysles to delve into his conflict over his “real” work vs. the work that sustains his. Being that he’s relied on television commercials and corporate films to fund his creative pursuits dating back to the beginning of his career, are his unkind words about adverts purely the product of resentment? And how does he manage that conflict and resentment just to get through the day?

    Alas, these questions are a bit too complex to be posed to a special guest during a post-screening Q & A. If I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that when everyone else is having a good time, I should keep my questions (all of which seem perfectly reasonable in my brain but apparently turn nuclear once they hit other ears) to myself.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog

  • There Will Be a Wonderful Life. Clip of the Day

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    American Teen  (2008)

    In response to Paramount’s consolidation of the marketing divisions of Paramount Pictures and Paramount Vantage, I went looking for a mash-up trailer that would give us a sense of what we’re in for. Because advertising for specialty films is typically different from advertising for major studio films. But seeing as Vantage has already done a fair enough job lately trying to make a documentary look like a teen comedy, the consolidation may not really be that noticeable after all.

    Anyway, I couldn’t find a good mash-up that re-cut a recent independent film to resemble a blockbuster, so here’s something else entirely that I found during my search. It’s a Wonderful Life “made to look like the movie is about George Bailey’s descent into madness.” Consider it a belated celebration of James Stewart’s centennial (he would have been 100 on May 20th). Or consider it merely a fun re-imagining of a classic. And consider this assignment for mash-up enthusiasts: how about a reverse re-imagining of There Will Be Blood as a Capra movie?

    By the way: despite the fact that Paramount did not produce It’s a Wonderful Life (Capra’s Liberty Films made it, for distributor RKO Radio Pictures), the studio is the distributor of the film on DVD (thanks to Viacom’s purchase in 1998 of Spelling Entertainment, which owned Republic Pictures, which — here it get’s complicated. Paramount also owned the rights to the film from 1947 to 1951, the period in which it owned Liberty). And Paramount Vantage produced/distributed There Will Be Blood. So, the mash-up almost fits my original search criteria.


    Originally posted on:SpoutBlog