Robotic Gab

Werth: Domo arigato, Wise.  

Wise: Oh, dear.  I hope we're not about to descend into some Paula Deen-style racial hijinks.  

 
Werth: I'm just making a reference to the 1980's pop tune as a way of nodding to the giant robots in Guillermo del Toro's Pacific Rim which opens today.  

Robots found their way into films fairly early on in outings like 1919's The Master Mystery starring Harry Houdini and, of course who could forget the robot-chick in Fritz Lang's silent masterpiece, Metropolis (1927)?

Wise: It's like the best opium dream I've never had. 
 

Werth: If you prefer your robots on the more comely side, you couldn't ask for more shapely automatons than the ones in the 1975 camp classic, The Stepford Wives. Based on a book by Ira Levin (the same guy who wrote Rosemary's Baby) Stepford opens on the Eberhart family escaping New York City for a new home in the quaint town of Stepford, Connecticut. Joanna (Katherine Ross) is reluctant from the start, but accedes to her husband Walter's (Peter Masterson) desires to start a new life free of the stresses and acid rain of the big city.

Wise: And probably to get away from Diana Ross and Michael Jackson, too. 

Werth: It doesn't take long, however, for Joanna to realize that something isn't quite right in this picturesque town. The perfectly groomed, compliant wives of Stepford creep her out with their empty smiles and rejection of even the most basic of feminist stances. 

Her new friend Bobbie (Paula Prentiss) and she begin to suspect the husbands of Stepford are doing something to their wives to make them the perfect models of Eisenhower-Era wifery, but that sounds crazy, right?

Wise: If mechanization worked for Swanson TV dinners, why not for the old ball and chain?

Werth: Stepford is the '70's answer to the classic Female Gothic genre of the '40's. Like a Rebecca in hip-huggers, Joanna has to question her sanity and whether she is in grave danger from her own husband—and men as a whole. The film is fascinating in how it challenges the notion of the "good wife" in the midst of the Second Wave of feminism. 

Feminist guru Betty Friedan famously decried the movie as a "rip-off" of the Feminist Movement, and perhaps that reaction came from the outlandishness of the story and the horrifying, yet strangely nostalgic ending. But director Bryan Forbes intended Stepford to be a reaction against the critics of feminism, and was surprised that the movie wasn't embraced by the feminist community. 

Unfortunately, the camp aspects of the dialogue, fashion, and acting (Prentiss' performance is so perfectly '70's it feels like she just walked off the set of the Mike Douglas Show) overshadow the serious points Forbes was trying to make. 

But when you have Tina Louise playing an over-sexed housewife (yes, that Tina Louise) and Carol Van Sant losing her shit over a recipe, you kind of forget about burning your bra.
 

Wise: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) is another film that speculates about the relationship between man and machine.  In the early 1970's, Stanley Kubrick bought the film rights to Brian Aldiss's short story "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long" and hired the author to write an adaptation, but delays and creative differences caused Kubrick to fire Aldiss, and the project lingered in development until Kubrick's death when Steven Spielberg, who had been attached to the film in various capacities for many years, was convinced to take on the project himself.  

Spielberg attempted to take on as many of Kubrick's idiosyncrasies as possible during production—banning press from the set, releasing only portions of the script to the actors, and requiring confidentiality agreements—in an attempt to capture the flavor of the film his mentor might have made.  

Werth: Did Spielberg yell at Shelley Duvall?

Wise: Haley Joel Osment plays David, a robot programmed to love, who comes to live with Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O'Connor) whose son Martin has been cryogenically frozen for many years until a cure is found for his rare ailment. 

When Martin returns home, a rivalry develops between the robot and human boys.  Tricked by Martin into performing threatening acts against Henry and Monica, it is decided that David must be returned to the factory and destroyed.  But Monica has grown to love David, and instead she sends him away with his mechanical teddy bear in the hope that he will find companionship among the unregistered Mecha that live apart from humans. 

Determined to become a real boy, David sets off to find the Blue Fairy from Pinnochio, helped along by the mechanical prostitute Gigolo Joe (Jude Law).  

Werth: Traveling to see a mysterious being who grants wishes with a walking teddy bear and a metal hooker. All you need is some guy made out of straw and you have a trip to see the Wizard.

Wise: The film is incredibly beautiful, portraying a future Earth succumbed to global warming where sleek technology offers solace from the threatening natural world.  

Haley Joel Osment, fresh off his eerie success in The Sixth Sense (1999), is both endearing and slightly creepy, capturing precisely both the appeal and the terror of ever more lifelike mechanical beings.  

And Jude Law is incredibly magnetic, radiating not only his programmed sexual appeal, but also a growing tenderness toward David.  This being Spielberg, the film hits hard on his usual themes of childhood longing and the tentative—and sometimes prickly—relationship between humans and outsiders, but unlike the usual Spielberg, the film doesn't build to a satisfying conclusion.  

Perhaps burdened by his wish to be faithful to Kubrick's vision, the last third of the picture is increasingly messy, and instead of a rousing climax, he offers a wrenching metaphor about the perishability of love.  

Werth: If love doesn't perish during a two and a half hour runtime, nothing can kill it. So admit it, Wise. You have the Styx song stuck in your head.

Wise: No, but I am thinking of a specific dance move. Tune in next week for more Film Gab you'll never forget. 

 

Gab-wooding

Werth: My fellow Gab-mericans— 

Wise: Um, hi there, Werth.  Sounds like you're getting pretty ramped up for the Presidential campaign.  

Werth: I do love convention season, full of rousing speeches, pageantry, balloons—

Wise: —and running mates disguised as a fitness regime?

Werth: Of course, the biggest star to emerge has already been a star for decades. Only this time he brought along a friend.  

Wise: I'm assuming you're talking about Clint Eastwood and his chair.  

Werth: I sure am. And even if not everyone loves that he is one of Hollywood's most vocal Republicans, no one can deny that he is one of Hollywood's top talents.  Starting off his career snarling in 1960s spaghetti westerns, then snarling as America's favorite dirty cop in the '70s, he eventually went on to become one of the most lauded directors of the past two decades. 

His first time occupying the director's chair came in 1971 with the thriller Play Misty for Me. Doing double-duty as both director and star, Eastwood plays Dave Garver, a late-night, Carmel, CA DJ who likes to play jazz and woo women. One groupie in particular is Evelyn, a neurotic chippie who calls the show frequently purring, "Play 'Misty' for me," into the phone. When she shows up at Dave's favorite bar wearing a leather mini and kiki shag hair-do, it's a little jarring realizing that Evelyn is being played by none other than a young, pre-Arrested Development Jessica Walter.

Wise: Please don't tell me he spins Lucille Bluth's platter.

Werth: He does... a couple times. But when he tries to end it so he can return to his ex-girlfriend, Tobie (Donna Mills), Evelyn isn't having any of it. Soon she is following him on his beach dates, staging hysterical screaming fits in front of potential employers and attempting suicide in his bathroom.

Wise: Is there a rabbit boiling in a pot at some point?

Werth: The parallels with Adrian Lyne's Fatal Attraction (1987) are unmistakable, but Misty is missing the sexiness, the tense pacing, and the terrifying character development of Fatal Attraction. 

Eastwood's acting feels more empty than conflicted or scared, and his use of long shots and voice over instead of actual conversation puts a distance between us and the characters, even if said characters are rolling around in a forest like a soft-core '70's Coke ad.

Wise: I'm suddenly very thirsty.

Werth: One scene does point towards Eastwood's bright directorial future. Dave visits the actual Monterey Jazz Festival and the footage is electric, perfectly capturing the excitement of the crowd in a documentary style. It shows that even as a novice Eastwood was learning to effectively capture mood and style for a film audience. 
 
Wise: Another of the few misfires in Eastwood's oeuvre is Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997).  Based on John Berendt's non-fiction novel of the same name, the film stars John Cusack as John Kelso (a fictionalized stand-in for Berendt), a writer for Town and Country who travels to Savannah, GA, to write a story on the annual Christmas party thrown by the flamboyant Jim Williams (Kevin Spacey), only to be dragged into the mystery surrounding the murder of Williams' hot-headed boyfriend Billy Hanson (Jude Law).  

Werth:  Kevin Spacey only wishes his boyfriend was Jude Law...

Wise: The book had been on the best seller list for almost four years by the time the film came out, making Eastwood's task of meeting audience expectations nearly impossible.  Still, some of the choices he and screenwriter John Lee Hancock made seem absolutely wrong-headed, particularly the transformation of Berendt's careful examination of the vagaries of Savannah society into simply a parade of eccentrics.  

Cusack's task wasn't any easier: Berendt's authorial voice remains resolutely in the background of the book, giving full reign to his characters, while Cusack attempts to bring this observer into the foreground with little success.  

The introduction of a love interest to the character (Eastwood's own daughter Alison Eastwood playing an invented florist who belts Tin Pan Alley hits in her free time) only muddies the character even more.  

Werth: Eastwood's nepotism knows no bounds when it comes to singing. He also squeezed his warbling daughter Morgan into the otherwise wonderful documentary, Johnny Mercer: The Dream's on Me in 2009.

Wise: Despite these problems, the film still offers many pleasures, particularly Kevin Spacey's performance.  He masterfully deploys a bourbon-inflected drawl that both seduces and chills the audience, making his Jim Williams just as compelling and just as mysterious as the actual case that Berendt wrote about.  Jude Law also does excellent (although limited) work as the tempestuous lover, making Billy a sexy time bomb waiting to explode.  

Perhaps the stand-out performance of the film is by the Lady Chablis playing herself as a kind of Girl Friday to Cusack.  She brings humor and pathos to the film, and frankly makes a much more compelling partner to Cusack than Alison Eastwood's drab Mandy. 

Werth: When your name is a wine product, you tend to attract attention.

Wise: Also of note is the really wonderful soundtrack of Johnny Mercer hits performed by such luminaries as Tony Bennett, k.d. lang, Diana Krall and the director himself.  Mercer came from Savannah and his ancestral home was the site of the murder; using his songs to score the film gives it a texture and authenticity it would otherwise have lacked.  

Werth: The same thing Eastwood achieved for the RNC with his chair scolding.

Wise: I'm happy as long as we both vote for more Film Gab next week.  

Magic Gab

Werth: Howdy, Wise!

Wise: Howdy, Werth! You got your singles ready?

Werth: I sure do! Friday's release of Steven Soderbergh's much-hyped Magic Mike is likely to make male-stripper enthusiasts everywhere toss their money at the screen with gleeful abandon.

Wise: Filling the theater with the most squeals since Ned Beatty and Burt Reynolds went for a canoe ride in Georgia. 

Werth: With some of Hollywood's hottest male properties taking it all off, I thought we here at Film Gab should salute our favorite movies that celebrate the male form. Wise, if you please...

Wise: With pleasure!

Wise's Favorite Male-Order Movies

Splendor in the Grass (1961)— Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty play teenage sweethearts in rural 1920's Kansas: she's the town good girl who winds up in the insane asylum when Beatty's football star heads to Yale instead of the back seat of his Rambler with her. 

The Heiress (1949)—After years of romantic disappointment, awkward spinster Olivia de Haviland falls hard for doe-eyed possible gold digger Montgomery Clift who could make the dustiest old maid long to raise her petticoats.  

The Opposite of Sex (1998)—Christina Ricci takes sibling rivalry to new kinky lows when she seduces her brother's boyfriend played by bee-stung-lipped Ivan Sergei who spends most of his time tanning his abs by the pool.

Singing in the Rain (1952)— Normally I find Gene Kelly too brash to be beautiful, but when he looks past Debbie Reynolds and into Donald O'Connor's twinkling Irish eyes, I get a little short of breath.  Plus: dude could wear pants. 

The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)— Patricia Highsmith's charismatic yet sociopathic killer may not be human enough to actually feel love, but Anthony Minghella's adaptation of her first Ripley novel transforms Jude Law into a golden object of desire that could stir feelings in even the blackest heart. 





Werth's Favorite Bare Beefcake Flicks

Dirty Dancing (1987)— If seeing Patrick Swayze dance in the water with his shirt off isn't enough, there's always the peek-a-boo bottom you see when he gets out of bed with Jennifer Grey.

Tarzan and His Mate (1934)— Olympic swimmer-turned Hollywood hearthrob Johnny Weissmuller swings, runs and wrestles through the jungle with his loincloth holding on for dear life.

A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)— I challenge anyone to find a man who is sexier in a t-shirt than Marlon Brando as Stanley Kowalski. He doesn't even need to take it off to raise your heart rate.

Querelle (1982)— Fassbinder is a stylistic perv. But the way his camera ravishes Brad Davis' cocky sailor makes you overlook the depravity.

Watchmen (2009)— I didn't think I could get excited by a giant, blue, CGI superhero, but Billy Crudup's nude Dr. Manhattan makes me want to request a physical.

Wise: Werth, after this post, I need to take a cold shower.

Werth: Go right ahead—just don't take your dollar bills in there with you. And make sure you're squeaky clean for next week's Film Gab!

Gab is Hell

Wise: Hi there, Werth!

Werth: Hi, Wise! Don't you just love the smell of mustard gas in the morning?

Wise:I'd rather smell bacon and blueberry pancakes. 

Werth: Then bring your maple syrup to Film Forum today and watch the gripping Lewis Milestone WWI classic, All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). The film, based on the Erich Maria Remarque book, won the Best Picture and Best Director Oscar that year and was even the subject of a Dogville Short spoof, So Quiet on the Canine Front (1931).

Wise: You've really arrived when you get your own fido farce.  But when I think of movies depicting the horrors of war I immediately think of Cold Mountain (2003), Anthony Minghella's sweeping adaptation of Charles Frazier's novel.  Told mostly in flashback, the film follows wounded Confederate soldier W.P. Inman (Jude Law) as he struggles to return to the mountains of North Carolina and his sweetheart Ada Monroe (Nicole Kidman).  

Along the way he encounters heroes, helpers and blackguards, all while trying to avoid the Confederate Home Guard which is rounding up deserters and forcing them back to the front lines.  Back home, Ada loses her father and struggles to survive the wartime privations with help from Ruby Thewes (Renée Zellweger), a mountain girl with a sharp tongue and strong back.  

Werth: And an accent that could make the hillbillies from Deliverance blush.  

Wise: That accent won her a Best Supporting Actress Oscar.  

Werth: And inclusion in a group of cursed actresses.  

Wise: Still, she is one of the best things in a movie that occasionally loses its bearings.  Minghella's previous successes—The English Patient and The Talented Mr. Ripley—both are sweeping, highly romantic epics, but somehow Cold Mountain fails to take flight.  Part of that failure stems from its leads: Jude Law is too precise an actor to be much of a matinee idol; and Nicole Kidman is too ethereal to fulfill the hardscrabble duties of her role.  

Werth: Maybe her Chanel contract blocked her from digging up turnips. 

Wise: Despite its shortcomings, the film is ravishing, full of colorful supporting performances, John Seale's haunting cinematography, and beautifully scored by Gabriel Yared.  But it's also a meditation on horrors of war and how they bleed into the lives of those that remain at home.

Werth: In one of my favorite war movies, the horrors of war are practically celebrated. When Quentin Tarantino announced he was making a WWII film about a U.S. corps of Nazi-hunting Jews it came as no surprise that the film would be filled with the kind of action-based gore he was famous for. But what is surprising about Inglourious Basterds (2009) is how the director has matured in his filmmaking. 

Wise: What? No characters with color-based names?

Werth: Inglourious begins with Nazi extraordinaire Col. Hans Landa (Oscar-winner Christoph Waltz) questioning a French milk farmer (Denis Menochet) about some missing Jews. The scene relishes its own length, stretching the tension to an uncomfortable level—considering that the Jews Landa is searching for are hiding under the floor beneath him. 

In a typical Tarantino flick, this length would show how referential and precious the dialogue can be—but it is as if Tarantino has grown up. Now he uses his bag of stylish cinematic tricks not to be cute—but to aid the story.

Wise: All this from a man who started off as an Elvis impersonator on The Golden Girls.

Werth: The plot quickly splits into several different threads with Shoshanna Dreyfus (Melanie Laurent) plotting her revenge against the Nazi regime that murdered her family, a British agent (Michael Fassbinder) who is attempting to gain intelligence to assassinate Hitler, and 

Lt. Aldo Raine (a delightful, scenery-chewing Brad Pitt) whose team of Basterds is scalping its way across France. The stories converge on a French cinema where Tarantino literally re-makes history in a movie theater. 

It's something this renegade 
filmmaker has been doing ever since Reservoir Dogs first hit theaters in 1992, and with Inglourious and its eight Oscar nominations, Tarantino proves that he can do more than make "hip" films with eclectic soundtracks. So Wise, has all this talk about war movies made you want to bear arms?

Wise: Only if you were trying to steal my bacon and blueberry pancakes.

Werth: Check out next week's Film Gab for more Breakfast Armageddon!