Three More Recent Viewings

Tropic Thunder (2008). Directed by Ben Stiller. If for no other reason, watch this rollicking send-up of Hollywood big-budget malarkey to see Robert Downey, Jr. play an Australian method actor playing an African-American soldier in Viet Nam. When I first heard about this role, I, like everyone else, just shook my head, grimaced, and sung softly under my breath, "Oh when will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?" But then reports started coming my way of how RD, Jr. took what could have been the most offensive role in modern American cinema and owned it. So I had to see it for myself. You should too. Oh, and Tom Cruise is in there too, somewhere, wearing a fat suit.

The Magus (1969). Directed by Guy Green (whose name sounds a bit like a Terry Southern character). One of those legendary “bad films” that everyone talks about (Woody Allen famously carped that if he’d have his life to live over again he’d change only one thing—he wouldn’t see The Magus again), and, yes, I too found it bad. But I’m not sorry I watched it. I mean, after all, it’s got Michael Caine, Anthony Quinn, Anna Karina, Candace Bergin, Mallorcan scenery (doubling as Greece), mystery, mayhem, mindfrigging, a groovy soundtrack, a script by John Fowles based on his own wonderful novel, and brief nudity. I mean, it's kind of like a mediocre Mexican meal--it may be a plate of unrecognizable goop, but if there's cheese, beans, shredded beef, corn tortillas, and chiles, it can't be all bad, can it? Here's a cool DVD review of the film with great pics of the actors: http://www.dvdtalk.com/reviews/24562/magus-the/

The Naked City (1948). Directed by Jules Dassin. Another legendary film that has slipped by me over the years. A classic noir/police procedural starring Irish actor Barry Fitzgerald as an NYC detective working on the case of a murdered model. The film's unusual voice-over narration (by producer Mark Hellinger, who died before the film was released), location filming throughout the New York City streets, and striking photography make it a must-see, though the plot's a little unexciting and the acting often feels a bit forced. This is another one of those productions that serves as a fascinating nexus of various movie-culture currents (geek alert): The director, Jules Dassin, would later be blacklisted but find work in Europe directing the French noir classic "Rififi" and the Greek romance "Never on Sunday" (now try getting that tune out of your head!); the star, Barry Fitzgerald, acted at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin and roomed with Sean O'Casey for a while--and in Hollywood was nominated for both Best Supporting Actor and Best Actor for the same role--Father Fitzgibbon in "Going My Way" (a feat unsurpassed in Oscar history); Fitzgerald's protege, Detective Halloran, is played by Don Taylor, husband of Corman lovely Hazel Court and director of "Escape from the Planet of the Apes"; and murder suspect Howard Duff is the grandfather of actress/singer Hilary Duff, she of "Lizzie McGuire" fame; even the title and concept for the film has an interesting pedigree: it gets its name from a book of photojournalism, "The Naked City" (1945), by Weegee, a pseudonym for Arthur Fellig, a Ukrainian born American photographer whose pictures of crime scenes, car accidents, and street life influenced not only the movie but a TV series of the same name (his own name, Weegee, echoes "ouija", and he was so nicknamed because his portable police radio gave him the "uncanny" ability to appear at fresh disaster scenes!). Finally, it's worth noting that Weegee's connections to Stanley Kubrick (presumably from the latter's photojournalism phase) brought him to the set of "Dr. Strangelove" to do still photography and to offer Peter Sellers a voice model for the titular character. Mein fuhrer, I can valk!

Whew!

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