For S and G's here is my review of a BBC single season wonder:
Bonekickers (BBC, 2008)
Original broadcasts July-August 2008. Available for rent or purchase.
One thing I love about British television programming is brevity. A season will last from six to thirteen episodes and is done. A series lasts just as long as it takes to tell the story, and is done, even if it lasts only a single season, six episodes long. Even the very best follow this pattern: “Mulberry” went two seasons, totaling thirteen episodes; “Coupling,” by far one of the funniest situation comedies of the past twenty years (and not to be confused with the pitiful line for line American copy) went four seasons; the Occult drama “Hex” had its story told in two. Even the exceptions prove the rule -- “Doctor Who” prepares for its sixth season but with its third doctor since the new millennium reboot.
These shows finish leaving you wanting more. For some, like “The Bonekickers,” one season is quite enough.
This series was created by Matthew Graham and Ashley Pharoah, the team that gave us the outstanding “Life on Mars” (two seasons, twelve episodes total). Archaeology professor Mark Horton from Bristol University acted as consultant, helping give the program its air of authenticity.
“Bonekickers” has a six episode arc that clearly was intended to be self-contained. The series follows the exploits of a quartet of archaeologists from fictional Wessex University who solve puzzles with the care of a CSI team and the gusto of Indiana Jones. Not even Jones himself would believe that archaeology could be so bloody dangerous and exciting, particularly in locations like Bristol.
Dr. Gillian Magwilde (Julie Graham) leads the troupe, with Dr. Ben Ergha (Adrian Lester), a former classmate at college and lover, and Professor Gregory “Dolly” Parton (Hugh Bonneville) her main scholastic allies, and young Viv Davis (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) their apprentice. For comic relief, Michael Maloney plays Daniel Mastiff, the boss you love to hate. The characters are interesting but fairly one-dimensional, and we see very little personal growth in any of them during the course of the series. The one exception is Bonneville’s Professor Parton, who comes to us already complete and almost anachronistic, a throwback to that Indy Jones brand of adventurer caught in the modern world.
But adventures abound. The subject of each episode is itself fascinating and filled with potential. In order, the archaeologists uncover, and then fight to preserve, the Knights Templar’s greatest treasure; the legacy of escaped New World slaves called the Maroons; the true story of the death of Warrior Queen Boudicca; the prophesies of the Babylonian God Marduk; and the resting place of Joan of Arc. Each time someone sinister wants to stop them. Crimes, including murder, ensue. Each time they acquire great knowledge but usually lose what they are after.
Gillian is on an underlying quest for a specific sword. In her pursuit, she shows herself to be hard, belligerent, driven, and often hubristic. This makes her at once interesting yet not wholly sympathetic, a difficult and real person. But we stop there. She is no different at the end of her quest than she was when we first met her. We learn about the complex relationships between the characters, which lend an almost soap opera quality to the proceedings, and we are presented with an array of interesting and likewise driven guest characters from episode to episode -- in fact, things move quickly enough throughout the program that all we are left thinking about is how cleverly all these artifacts and bones link together, first within the framework of each episode, and then in the totality as summed up in episode six.
At least they didn’t leave us hanging. With pointed references to Gillian’s quest for the sword appearing in every episode, in the finale she manages to solve the riddle and attain her prize, if only temporarily -- Excalibur. The clues fit neatly together, while the possible implications of finding that sword lead to a heated and dangerous conclusion of the series. The ending is satisfying up to a point. I still don’t know why Gillian . . . Well, maybe you should see for yourself.
My favorite character in the show rarely had much to do but strut and translate. But in the finale he got to shine at last. Hugh Bonneville’s raspy voice was perfect as his “Dolly” Parton got to utter the best line in the program: “Don’t mess with me, I’m an archaeologist!”
“Bonekickers” is definitely not a great series. The characters never fully develop and each episode seems to struggle to create a neat, believable ending. But the subjects explored by the archaeologists -- Christ, the Maroons, Boudicca, Marduk, Joan of Arc and Excalibur, are all captivating, while the level of danger and potential impact the characters face each week make these episodes a guilty pleasure -- sort of like watching Robert Langdon decipher the Da Vinci Code, only this quartet of explorers show genuine passion for what they do, and that alone is fun to watch.
Friday, October 22, 2010
"The Wrecking Crew"
"The Wrecking Crew" is a film by Denny Tedesco documenting his father's career. On October 16 I got to see it, thanks to my brothers Paul and David. I wrote the following review for Helium.com and wanted to share it with you all.
The Wrecking Crew, a Documentary by Denny Tedesco (2010)
You probably have never heard of them, but if you’re my age or if you have ever listened to any music from the 1960’s or 70s, I guarantee you’ve heard them play. As Los Angeles became the center of the recording scene for everything except Country, The Wrecking Crew were the consummate studio musicians who helped create hit record after hit record, from Elvis to the Beach Boys to the Mamas and the Papas to Herb Alpert to Sonny and Cher to Frank and Nancy Sinatra.
It was an era in which stars and their bands were not always good enough to make a record special, and studio musicians were called upon to turn a good song into a sonic treasure. Cost was also a factor: the actual band might take days or weeks to get a song just right for album release, while the studio musicians routinely did it in hours. It was a special window of time perfectly suited for this one steady core mix of talent.
An eclectic group of brilliant musicians who could sight-read anybody’s composition, master it, improve it where necessary, and turn in a finished track within three hours, these guys and gals might play for Sinatra in the morning, do the sound track for Hawaii Five-0 after lunch, then move in to tackle one of Brian Wilson’s increasingly sophisticated and complicated musical ideas -- too demanding for the touring Beach Boys themselves -- before dinner, then play to exhaustion to create Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound” before calling it a night.
It is said that drummer Hal Blaine is the most recorded drummer in music history, and that Tommy Tedesco holds the same honor among guitarists. No matter what genre, if you wanted a specific sound, Tommy Tedesco would find it. Bass guitarist Carol Kaye could take a simple riff and turn it into something unforgettable -- for example, she tweaked the very simple base line for Sonny and Cher’s “The Beat Goes On,” and gave a flat, lifeless underscoring genuine snap. Add a wealth of musicians numbering twenty or more at any given time, including drummer Earl Palmer, guitarists Billy Strange and Glen Campbell, and bassists Larry Knetchel and Joe Osborne, and you have The Wrecking Crew.
They got their name when they first showed up for work. The studio musicians there all wore ties and jackets and “looked” professional. These new guys came in with scraggly hair, wearing T-shirts, and dangling cigarettes from their lips. One of the other guys said, “You’re gonna wreck the music business.” Hal Blaine then said, “That’s us. The wrecking crew.”
Tommy Tedesco’s son Denny has spent the last fourteen years building a loving, honest tribute to his dad and fellow musicians of The Wrecking Crew. It has taken all that time to get releases from the various music studios for whom they recorded, so Denny could include the 130 examples of their work in the film. When asked why he didn’t just cut down the number of songs, Denny replied, “Because that’s the point. They played everything.”
By 1980 a new breed of singer-songwriter emerged on the music scene. New bands appeared who not only wanted to play their own stuff, they had the skill needed to do so effectively. Studio musicians became redundant. But, as several of them comment, it was a great ride.
You won’t find “The Wrecking Crew” at your local art house theater or even on DVD yet. Tedesco is still raising money to pay off the last of the studios for permission to play those songs, and money to finance the DVD release. He’s about $250,000 shy as I write this -- pocket change in today’s music industry. This means he is unable to show this film in commercial outlets, so he has been airing it at film festivals, where it has won numerous awards, and in private non-profit venues. I got to see it, along with about 200 others, at the Steinbeck Center in Salinas, California, where it was presented as one of the Center’s “Night at the Museum” series of events.
For me it was a wonderful evening filled with nostalgia, fun, and great humor. The members of The Wrecking Crew loved what they did, yet has a great sense of humor about themselves, and it shows in every frame of the 95 minute film.
Carefully edited and honestly told, this is the story of the musicians who created the soundtrack of my generation. They were paid handsomely for it and got to do what they loved. And even if they weren’t credited on those albums, this film shouts their names with joy.
For more information on The Wrecking Crew, visit the website:
www.wreckingcrewfilm.com.
The Wrecking Crew, a Documentary by Denny Tedesco (2010)
You probably have never heard of them, but if you’re my age or if you have ever listened to any music from the 1960’s or 70s, I guarantee you’ve heard them play. As Los Angeles became the center of the recording scene for everything except Country, The Wrecking Crew were the consummate studio musicians who helped create hit record after hit record, from Elvis to the Beach Boys to the Mamas and the Papas to Herb Alpert to Sonny and Cher to Frank and Nancy Sinatra.
It was an era in which stars and their bands were not always good enough to make a record special, and studio musicians were called upon to turn a good song into a sonic treasure. Cost was also a factor: the actual band might take days or weeks to get a song just right for album release, while the studio musicians routinely did it in hours. It was a special window of time perfectly suited for this one steady core mix of talent.
An eclectic group of brilliant musicians who could sight-read anybody’s composition, master it, improve it where necessary, and turn in a finished track within three hours, these guys and gals might play for Sinatra in the morning, do the sound track for Hawaii Five-0 after lunch, then move in to tackle one of Brian Wilson’s increasingly sophisticated and complicated musical ideas -- too demanding for the touring Beach Boys themselves -- before dinner, then play to exhaustion to create Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound” before calling it a night.
It is said that drummer Hal Blaine is the most recorded drummer in music history, and that Tommy Tedesco holds the same honor among guitarists. No matter what genre, if you wanted a specific sound, Tommy Tedesco would find it. Bass guitarist Carol Kaye could take a simple riff and turn it into something unforgettable -- for example, she tweaked the very simple base line for Sonny and Cher’s “The Beat Goes On,” and gave a flat, lifeless underscoring genuine snap. Add a wealth of musicians numbering twenty or more at any given time, including drummer Earl Palmer, guitarists Billy Strange and Glen Campbell, and bassists Larry Knetchel and Joe Osborne, and you have The Wrecking Crew.
They got their name when they first showed up for work. The studio musicians there all wore ties and jackets and “looked” professional. These new guys came in with scraggly hair, wearing T-shirts, and dangling cigarettes from their lips. One of the other guys said, “You’re gonna wreck the music business.” Hal Blaine then said, “That’s us. The wrecking crew.”
Tommy Tedesco’s son Denny has spent the last fourteen years building a loving, honest tribute to his dad and fellow musicians of The Wrecking Crew. It has taken all that time to get releases from the various music studios for whom they recorded, so Denny could include the 130 examples of their work in the film. When asked why he didn’t just cut down the number of songs, Denny replied, “Because that’s the point. They played everything.”
By 1980 a new breed of singer-songwriter emerged on the music scene. New bands appeared who not only wanted to play their own stuff, they had the skill needed to do so effectively. Studio musicians became redundant. But, as several of them comment, it was a great ride.
You won’t find “The Wrecking Crew” at your local art house theater or even on DVD yet. Tedesco is still raising money to pay off the last of the studios for permission to play those songs, and money to finance the DVD release. He’s about $250,000 shy as I write this -- pocket change in today’s music industry. This means he is unable to show this film in commercial outlets, so he has been airing it at film festivals, where it has won numerous awards, and in private non-profit venues. I got to see it, along with about 200 others, at the Steinbeck Center in Salinas, California, where it was presented as one of the Center’s “Night at the Museum” series of events.
For me it was a wonderful evening filled with nostalgia, fun, and great humor. The members of The Wrecking Crew loved what they did, yet has a great sense of humor about themselves, and it shows in every frame of the 95 minute film.
Carefully edited and honestly told, this is the story of the musicians who created the soundtrack of my generation. They were paid handsomely for it and got to do what they loved. And even if they weren’t credited on those albums, this film shouts their names with joy.
For more information on The Wrecking Crew, visit the website:
www.wreckingcrewfilm.com.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Checking In
Hello to all my friends out in the eather! It has been a long while since I blogged last, and I apologize. Many of you already know why I have remained quiet for the last several weeks, and now is not the time to launch into some sort of tirade or bitter self-flagellation. The horizon is still far away, but I have seen it and know I am moving in the right direction, and that is all I feel the need to say at the moment.
I do have a few words of wisdom to impart, They are not my words. They belong to a Chinese philosopger named Mo Tsu, who predates Lao Tsu, credited with being the center of the Taoist movement. My eldest rightly points out that Mo Tsu's words apply to an ideal and unattainable reality, not ours. Still, if each of us could live them, well, ah, the idealist in me still dreams.
In response to the criticism that "All embracing love is fine enough, but it is hard to apply where it counts," Mo Tsu answered:
"The world's leaders have no idea what is for their own profit . . . Those who love others will be loved in return. Do good to others and others will do good to you. Hate people and be hated by them. Hurt them and they will hurt you. What is hard about that?"
I do have a few words of wisdom to impart, They are not my words. They belong to a Chinese philosopger named Mo Tsu, who predates Lao Tsu, credited with being the center of the Taoist movement. My eldest rightly points out that Mo Tsu's words apply to an ideal and unattainable reality, not ours. Still, if each of us could live them, well, ah, the idealist in me still dreams.
In response to the criticism that "All embracing love is fine enough, but it is hard to apply where it counts," Mo Tsu answered:
"The world's leaders have no idea what is for their own profit . . . Those who love others will be loved in return. Do good to others and others will do good to you. Hate people and be hated by them. Hurt them and they will hurt you. What is hard about that?"
Monday, August 30, 2010
Meeting The Girl For The First Time
I fell in love with her long before I met her. I cannot tell you if it was from seeing her picture in a book, or my overall fascination with everything coming from the Dutch Golden Age, one of the richest periods in creative history. Or was it Tracy Chevalier’s masterfully crafted book, or the stunning performance of the Girl in the film? All I know is Johannes Vermeer’s painting of “The Girl With The Pearl Earring” became an obsession, something -- and someone -- I had to see for myself.
Fortunately for me, I have been able to travel to Holland several times on the cheap, due largely to my niece and nephew, who always open their home to us, saving us beau coups de bucks. They also are proud of their heritage and love only too well to play tourist along with their guests. Anything we want to see, they will do what they can to make it so.
On our first visit to Holland my mission was to see the Huygenshuis in Hofwijk, the summer home of Constantijn Huygens, arguably one of the most influential personalities pf the Seventeenth Century. His son, Christiaan Huygens, astronomer-scientist-mathematician-inventor, one of my all time heroes, spent his summers there. During that visit to Holland we also toured the fames Amsterdam Rijksmuseum, but “The Girl” hangs somewhere else.
On a later visit, we went to the museum where she lives. It is the Mauritshuis in Den Haag (the Hague), a beautiful Seventeenth Century three story mansion designed by Jacob van Campen, with its construction overseen by none other than Constantijn Huygens. The building now makes for an intimate museum, easily traversed in a few hours without rushing.
We walked from room to room, painting to painting, awed by the diversity of subjects and artists. We entered one large room and our eyes were immediately drawn to a painting on the wall opposite the door. The painting was not overly large, measuring about three by four feet, yet it dominated the wall. It was Vermeer’s “View of Delft.” Once again I was stunned by something I had witnessed before: even among several similar pieces, some stand out with a unique brilliance. Even before realizing it was a Vermeer, I recognized its status as a masterpiece just by looking at it.
But I wanted to see the Girl. I scanned the room, turning back toward the door through which I had entered. And there she was.
She hung in a space near the door that seemed to radiate with its own energy. A small platform rested in front of her so the viewer could step up for a close look. You could touch her -- she rested open and unprotected except for a museum guard positioned in the room. You could practically smell the paint, over three hundred fifty years old. I had never felt such intimacy with a work of art.
Vermeer is known for his sense of light playing against shadow, and for using a camera obscura to help capture the richness of detail his paintings convey. The camera obscura, an early precursor to photography, helped Vermeer create snapshots in oil of the life he knew and saw around him.
I was immediately struck by two things. The painting was small, at 17.5x15 inches much smaller than I had imagined. And yet it was larger than life. The Girl’s enigmatic expression reaches across three and a half centuries to beguile and haunt you with her simple beauty. Only the earring she wears shows any sign that she is an extraordinary person, which, socially, by all accounts available she clearly was not.
But to see her was to see someone as close to immortality as any of us will ever get.
Fortunately for me, I have been able to travel to Holland several times on the cheap, due largely to my niece and nephew, who always open their home to us, saving us beau coups de bucks. They also are proud of their heritage and love only too well to play tourist along with their guests. Anything we want to see, they will do what they can to make it so.
On our first visit to Holland my mission was to see the Huygenshuis in Hofwijk, the summer home of Constantijn Huygens, arguably one of the most influential personalities pf the Seventeenth Century. His son, Christiaan Huygens, astronomer-scientist-mathematician-inventor, one of my all time heroes, spent his summers there. During that visit to Holland we also toured the fames Amsterdam Rijksmuseum, but “The Girl” hangs somewhere else.
On a later visit, we went to the museum where she lives. It is the Mauritshuis in Den Haag (the Hague), a beautiful Seventeenth Century three story mansion designed by Jacob van Campen, with its construction overseen by none other than Constantijn Huygens. The building now makes for an intimate museum, easily traversed in a few hours without rushing.
We walked from room to room, painting to painting, awed by the diversity of subjects and artists. We entered one large room and our eyes were immediately drawn to a painting on the wall opposite the door. The painting was not overly large, measuring about three by four feet, yet it dominated the wall. It was Vermeer’s “View of Delft.” Once again I was stunned by something I had witnessed before: even among several similar pieces, some stand out with a unique brilliance. Even before realizing it was a Vermeer, I recognized its status as a masterpiece just by looking at it.
But I wanted to see the Girl. I scanned the room, turning back toward the door through which I had entered. And there she was.
She hung in a space near the door that seemed to radiate with its own energy. A small platform rested in front of her so the viewer could step up for a close look. You could touch her -- she rested open and unprotected except for a museum guard positioned in the room. You could practically smell the paint, over three hundred fifty years old. I had never felt such intimacy with a work of art.
Vermeer is known for his sense of light playing against shadow, and for using a camera obscura to help capture the richness of detail his paintings convey. The camera obscura, an early precursor to photography, helped Vermeer create snapshots in oil of the life he knew and saw around him.
I was immediately struck by two things. The painting was small, at 17.5x15 inches much smaller than I had imagined. And yet it was larger than life. The Girl’s enigmatic expression reaches across three and a half centuries to beguile and haunt you with her simple beauty. Only the earring she wears shows any sign that she is an extraordinary person, which, socially, by all accounts available she clearly was not.
But to see her was to see someone as close to immortality as any of us will ever get.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Top 10 Intentionally Funniest Westerns
Great humor bends our perceptions and sets them on end. It can satirize a genre or enhance the base story line of a particular project, but it always serves to underscore deep truths, often indomitable ones, and to confront and conquer our fears. If Westerns are horse opera morality plays, then humor, done right, underlines the point. It is hard to make funny work, harder to make it last. The following films, in one way or another, succeed. Listed by year of release.
Destry Rides Again (1939), directed by George Marshall, is the earliest entry on my list by far. Jimmy Stewart plays Thomas Jefferson Destry, Jr., a brave deputy marshal who recoils at the idea of using a gun, preferring his wits to stop trouble. His town is controlled by evil saloon owner Brian Donlevy and his girl, Marlene Dietrich. Including one of the greatest and longest saloon brawls on film, this picture tweaks every convention popular in Western storytelling, yet provides a satisfying and inevitable finish.
Cat Ballou (1965), directed by Elliot Silverstein, finds a young woman trying to protect her father’s ranch from those who murdered him. To do so she hires a professional gunman, but what she gets is a terrible drunk -- and twin to the head bad guy! Lee Marvin plays both roles while Jane Fonda is Catherine, who becomes outlaw Cat Ballou. Marvin won an Oscar for his work, though he admitted a great debt to his horse.
Waterhole #3 (1967), directed by William A Graham -- who knew that robbery, rape and murder could be funny? In “The Magnificent Seven” James Coburn played a super cool, super quiet, ultra deadly gunman. He began playing against that type for laughs with this film, where everybody is out for themselves and the lines between right and wrong aren’t just blurred, they’ve been erased. As everyone hunts for a hidden cache of gold, Coburn seduces the comely daughter of the local sheriff, who is far from unwilling, but claims rape when he spurns her, in the end, what really matters is love, but getting there is hilarious. And a bit of gold doesn’t hurt. Or, as Roger Miller sings: “It’s the code of the West -- do into others before they do unto you.”
Paint Your Wagon (1969), directed by Joshua Logan, is a gender role challenging musical western starring Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood as the two men Jean Seberg loves. Marvin? Eastwood? Musical? ‘Nuff said. Still not convinced? Watch the sequence where all that undermining the town for easy gold dust just collapses on itself, or listen to Marvin sing “Wand’rin’ Star.”
Support Your Local Sheriff (1969), directed by Burt Kennedy, stars James Garner as (yet again) a clever and brave man pressed into service as a lawman to tame a town that literally sprang into existence overnight when one of its citizens discovered gold at a funeral. Immediately it becomes a wild and drunken mess. With a gang bent on controlling the town and townsfolk who are reluctant to support their sheriff, Garner and his reluctant deputy (an amazing Jack Elam) -- and the girl whose discovery started the whole thing -- have to face down the gang by themselves. They do it with a cannon, a great bluff, and sheer courage.
Cheyenne Social Club (1970), directed by Gene Kelly. Cowhand Jimmy Stewart inherits a piece of property. Henry Fonda rides all the way to Wyoming with him, for 1,000 miles, and never stops talking. That alone is funny, given that Stewart is the one known for protracted monologues and Fonda better for laconic observation. Once they get there these two relatively innocent cowboys find they have to run and protect a brothel full of heart-of-gold but very sexy women. A sweet, funny film.
Little Big Man (1970). Arthur Penn brilliantly brought Thomas Berger’s novel to the screen, with Dustin Hoffman incredible at portraying Jack Crabbe from a tender age to 212 years old. This film is hard to call a comedy because it is a very serious-minded film that relies on great humor to illustrate its story. Jack Crabbe is not a mover. He is a witness. He is our eyes on the beauty and humor of one culture facing extinction and on the brutality and dark humor of the culture bent on replacing the first. Even so, his mere presence alters the paths of others.
Support Your Local Gunfighter (1971) reunites Burt Kennedy with James Garner and Jack Elam in a very different but equally funny story. This time Garner is a con man who passes Elam off as a vicious gunfighter while Garner tries to amass a fortune playing roulette.
Skin Game (1971), directed by Paul Bogart, is a brilliant film about two con men, James Garner and Ossie Davis, who run a clever con in the 12857 border states. Davis pretends to be Garner’s slave, whom Garner sells. That night, Davis escapes or Garner breaks him free, and the two pocket the money and head to the next town. It gets complicated when one mark refuses to let go. The film relies on humor to challenge our perceptions and preconceptions about race, stereotypes, slavery and racism (then and now).
Blazing Saddles (1974). Many, including my wise brother-in-law David, believe that Mel Brooks’ raucous send-up of the standard single good guy against a mob of outlaws to save the town plot actually destroyed the Western as an American art form. Brooks left nowhere else to go. From having a clever, funny and handsome leading man who happened to be African American and wore a white hat (Clevon Little), to a gunfighter so fast you never see him draw (Gene Wilder) to beans around a campfire, to the crazy fistfight that crosses over into a Busby Berkley musical, Brooks pulled out all the stops. Throwing subtlety out the window, Brooks created arguably one of the funniest films of all time.
If anyone is keeping score, Jimmy Garner appears in three of the ten films, while Jack Elam, Jimmy Stewart and Lee Marvin appear in two each.
Destry Rides Again (1939), directed by George Marshall, is the earliest entry on my list by far. Jimmy Stewart plays Thomas Jefferson Destry, Jr., a brave deputy marshal who recoils at the idea of using a gun, preferring his wits to stop trouble. His town is controlled by evil saloon owner Brian Donlevy and his girl, Marlene Dietrich. Including one of the greatest and longest saloon brawls on film, this picture tweaks every convention popular in Western storytelling, yet provides a satisfying and inevitable finish.
Cat Ballou (1965), directed by Elliot Silverstein, finds a young woman trying to protect her father’s ranch from those who murdered him. To do so she hires a professional gunman, but what she gets is a terrible drunk -- and twin to the head bad guy! Lee Marvin plays both roles while Jane Fonda is Catherine, who becomes outlaw Cat Ballou. Marvin won an Oscar for his work, though he admitted a great debt to his horse.
Waterhole #3 (1967), directed by William A Graham -- who knew that robbery, rape and murder could be funny? In “The Magnificent Seven” James Coburn played a super cool, super quiet, ultra deadly gunman. He began playing against that type for laughs with this film, where everybody is out for themselves and the lines between right and wrong aren’t just blurred, they’ve been erased. As everyone hunts for a hidden cache of gold, Coburn seduces the comely daughter of the local sheriff, who is far from unwilling, but claims rape when he spurns her, in the end, what really matters is love, but getting there is hilarious. And a bit of gold doesn’t hurt. Or, as Roger Miller sings: “It’s the code of the West -- do into others before they do unto you.”
Paint Your Wagon (1969), directed by Joshua Logan, is a gender role challenging musical western starring Lee Marvin and Clint Eastwood as the two men Jean Seberg loves. Marvin? Eastwood? Musical? ‘Nuff said. Still not convinced? Watch the sequence where all that undermining the town for easy gold dust just collapses on itself, or listen to Marvin sing “Wand’rin’ Star.”
Support Your Local Sheriff (1969), directed by Burt Kennedy, stars James Garner as (yet again) a clever and brave man pressed into service as a lawman to tame a town that literally sprang into existence overnight when one of its citizens discovered gold at a funeral. Immediately it becomes a wild and drunken mess. With a gang bent on controlling the town and townsfolk who are reluctant to support their sheriff, Garner and his reluctant deputy (an amazing Jack Elam) -- and the girl whose discovery started the whole thing -- have to face down the gang by themselves. They do it with a cannon, a great bluff, and sheer courage.
Cheyenne Social Club (1970), directed by Gene Kelly. Cowhand Jimmy Stewart inherits a piece of property. Henry Fonda rides all the way to Wyoming with him, for 1,000 miles, and never stops talking. That alone is funny, given that Stewart is the one known for protracted monologues and Fonda better for laconic observation. Once they get there these two relatively innocent cowboys find they have to run and protect a brothel full of heart-of-gold but very sexy women. A sweet, funny film.
Little Big Man (1970). Arthur Penn brilliantly brought Thomas Berger’s novel to the screen, with Dustin Hoffman incredible at portraying Jack Crabbe from a tender age to 212 years old. This film is hard to call a comedy because it is a very serious-minded film that relies on great humor to illustrate its story. Jack Crabbe is not a mover. He is a witness. He is our eyes on the beauty and humor of one culture facing extinction and on the brutality and dark humor of the culture bent on replacing the first. Even so, his mere presence alters the paths of others.
Support Your Local Gunfighter (1971) reunites Burt Kennedy with James Garner and Jack Elam in a very different but equally funny story. This time Garner is a con man who passes Elam off as a vicious gunfighter while Garner tries to amass a fortune playing roulette.
Skin Game (1971), directed by Paul Bogart, is a brilliant film about two con men, James Garner and Ossie Davis, who run a clever con in the 12857 border states. Davis pretends to be Garner’s slave, whom Garner sells. That night, Davis escapes or Garner breaks him free, and the two pocket the money and head to the next town. It gets complicated when one mark refuses to let go. The film relies on humor to challenge our perceptions and preconceptions about race, stereotypes, slavery and racism (then and now).
Blazing Saddles (1974). Many, including my wise brother-in-law David, believe that Mel Brooks’ raucous send-up of the standard single good guy against a mob of outlaws to save the town plot actually destroyed the Western as an American art form. Brooks left nowhere else to go. From having a clever, funny and handsome leading man who happened to be African American and wore a white hat (Clevon Little), to a gunfighter so fast you never see him draw (Gene Wilder) to beans around a campfire, to the crazy fistfight that crosses over into a Busby Berkley musical, Brooks pulled out all the stops. Throwing subtlety out the window, Brooks created arguably one of the funniest films of all time.
If anyone is keeping score, Jimmy Garner appears in three of the ten films, while Jack Elam, Jimmy Stewart and Lee Marvin appear in two each.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Westerns of the Sixties
And now for something in a different mood: How the Westerns of the 1960's reflected the changes in American culture during that turbulent decade:
In many ways, the 1960’s was the Decade of the Western. Some can argue that the 50’s or even the 40’s were the heyday of that typically American medium, while the 60’s saw the art form exported (the Spaghetti Westerns) and eventually depleted. After all, Westerns after the 1960’s became more and more rare, and after Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles” (1974), with a few notable exceptions, virtually non-existent. Still, the Westerns of the 60’s were a pivotal part of the American scene, and reflected the changes that were going on within the country during that turbulent decade.
Five films apply demonstrate the shift. Through them we can see how the Western went from clean cut, Good versus Bad, white hat versus black hat, to deeper, more psychological gray areas, from “The Magnificent Seven” to “The Wild Bunch.” Along the way the heroes of the film went from being peace builders who killed because they had to, to war mongers who needed to kill.
“The Magnificent Seven” (1960), a reworking of “The Seven Samurai.” follows seven American mercenaries as they enter a foreign country (Mexico) in order to help the local population fight off a gang of outlaws. Although the characters are complex, not mere cardboard cut-outs, they are decidedly good, and the banditos are decidedly bad. The lines are clear, and our heroes are caught up in doing what is right. Not only is this John Sturgess film a rousing testosterone-pleasing epic, it is also a morality play very much in tune with America’s image of itself.
In the ambitious “How The West Was Won” (1963), three directors created five “acts” to bring a fifty year period of America’s history settling the West to the screen. The heroes again showed complexity, even reluctance, but always did the right thing in the end, whether it was Jimmy Stewart’s mountain man or Gregory Peck’s gambler, or, central to the morality of the film, George Peppard’s Civil War soldier turned railway man turned lawman. Peppard is the rugged American standing up against the lawless West with little more than his own moral compass, courage, and rifle to tame a savage land and bring peace not just for the territory, but his family as well. Nobility abounds.
The shift comes after. There are several choices to mark the watershed, but I pick “The Hour of the Gun” (1967). In this film, Wyatt Earp (played by James Garner) goes on a vengeance trail against the Clanton gang, who had crippled one brother and killed another. Using a Territorial Marshal’s badge and a handful of deadly companions to make his quest legitimate, including Doc Holiday (Jason Robards), Earp leads what becomes a take no prisoners approach.
There is no more brutal scene in film than the moment Earp finds and confronts Andy Warshaw (played by Steve Ihnat), who protests that he didn’t shoot Earp’s brother, he only watched to make sure no one interfered. When Warshaw confesses that Clanton paid him $50 to watch, Earp becomes enraged and squares off. Warshaw is clearly outmatched, but, desperate, draws. Earp is faster and pumps bullet after bullet into Warshaw, emptying his gun, each shot bouncing the poor man against a fence. It is tantamount to murder. Yet Earp is the hero of the piece and we are asked to accept his rage as reason enough to forgive him. The dead were, after all, all bad men. Even Warshaw, who only watched.
But the lines between good and evil have been blurred. What changed? The answer seems obvious -- the Vietnam War. By the time that this film was being made, Americans were beginning to question their involvement in that war. The Good Guys found that their motives were being questioned, more and more so as the decade and the war continued. It seems fitting that the director of “The Magnificent Seven” also gave us the more ambiguous heroes of “The Hour of the Gun.”
Incidentally, the scene described above is available on YouTube and has had nearly 3,000 views. It is an amazing sequence, even out of context of the rest of the film. Though the bloodletting is tame by today’s standards, the physical scene stands on its own. Type in your search engine: You Tube - Hour of the Gun -Steve Ihnat vs. James Garner and Jason Robards, or if you search for Hour of the Gun the link will appear.
The decade ends with “The Wild Bunch,” Sam Peckinpah’s amazing and ground breaking ode to the end of the West. It is also staged and filmed like a combat film, with more visceral bloodletting than any film before, juxtaposed against almost balletic camera shots that at once make the visual images hauntingly beautiful and desperately brutal. By today’s standards, the blood spatter is tame, but for its time “The Wild Bunch” depicted death by gunshot as a messy business that left bodies scattered and the wounded groaning in agony. In this one, four outlaws at the end of their careers make one last job into their epitaph. This time we have all gray areas to contend with: some of the villains are heroes because everyone is a villain. In a reversal of “The Magnificent Seven,” in this film a gang of outlaw Americans go to a foreign land (Mexico again), with only one real motive, destruction.
The new decade began with a film that many consider an indictment of America’s foreign policy, “Little Big Man” (1970). Once again the lines are clearly drawn, only this time Americans are an invading force while the native Cheyenne and Sioux are the local indigenous population being pummeled into submission by a loosely organized policy of genocide. As great storytelling, “Little Big Man” is one of the finest films ever made in America, with complex characters, timely humor, and sensitivity to a dying people struggling not to die. As a political statement, the film completes the self-depreciation of American motives and actions just as the protests at home against the Vietnam War reach their zenith. It is obvious who the bad guys are, and they are us.
The Westerns that follow these five feature more complex, more ambiguous heroes and anti-heroes. The genre has slipped into a more occasional method for telling often revisionist story lines about America’s past, and by extension, her present and future. If art reflects the extremes of the culture that creates it, then the 1960’s brought moviegoers one hundred eighty degrees from certainty to questioning.
We are questioning still, which I think is good.
In many ways, the 1960’s was the Decade of the Western. Some can argue that the 50’s or even the 40’s were the heyday of that typically American medium, while the 60’s saw the art form exported (the Spaghetti Westerns) and eventually depleted. After all, Westerns after the 1960’s became more and more rare, and after Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles” (1974), with a few notable exceptions, virtually non-existent. Still, the Westerns of the 60’s were a pivotal part of the American scene, and reflected the changes that were going on within the country during that turbulent decade.
Five films apply demonstrate the shift. Through them we can see how the Western went from clean cut, Good versus Bad, white hat versus black hat, to deeper, more psychological gray areas, from “The Magnificent Seven” to “The Wild Bunch.” Along the way the heroes of the film went from being peace builders who killed because they had to, to war mongers who needed to kill.
“The Magnificent Seven” (1960), a reworking of “The Seven Samurai.” follows seven American mercenaries as they enter a foreign country (Mexico) in order to help the local population fight off a gang of outlaws. Although the characters are complex, not mere cardboard cut-outs, they are decidedly good, and the banditos are decidedly bad. The lines are clear, and our heroes are caught up in doing what is right. Not only is this John Sturgess film a rousing testosterone-pleasing epic, it is also a morality play very much in tune with America’s image of itself.
In the ambitious “How The West Was Won” (1963), three directors created five “acts” to bring a fifty year period of America’s history settling the West to the screen. The heroes again showed complexity, even reluctance, but always did the right thing in the end, whether it was Jimmy Stewart’s mountain man or Gregory Peck’s gambler, or, central to the morality of the film, George Peppard’s Civil War soldier turned railway man turned lawman. Peppard is the rugged American standing up against the lawless West with little more than his own moral compass, courage, and rifle to tame a savage land and bring peace not just for the territory, but his family as well. Nobility abounds.
The shift comes after. There are several choices to mark the watershed, but I pick “The Hour of the Gun” (1967). In this film, Wyatt Earp (played by James Garner) goes on a vengeance trail against the Clanton gang, who had crippled one brother and killed another. Using a Territorial Marshal’s badge and a handful of deadly companions to make his quest legitimate, including Doc Holiday (Jason Robards), Earp leads what becomes a take no prisoners approach.
There is no more brutal scene in film than the moment Earp finds and confronts Andy Warshaw (played by Steve Ihnat), who protests that he didn’t shoot Earp’s brother, he only watched to make sure no one interfered. When Warshaw confesses that Clanton paid him $50 to watch, Earp becomes enraged and squares off. Warshaw is clearly outmatched, but, desperate, draws. Earp is faster and pumps bullet after bullet into Warshaw, emptying his gun, each shot bouncing the poor man against a fence. It is tantamount to murder. Yet Earp is the hero of the piece and we are asked to accept his rage as reason enough to forgive him. The dead were, after all, all bad men. Even Warshaw, who only watched.
But the lines between good and evil have been blurred. What changed? The answer seems obvious -- the Vietnam War. By the time that this film was being made, Americans were beginning to question their involvement in that war. The Good Guys found that their motives were being questioned, more and more so as the decade and the war continued. It seems fitting that the director of “The Magnificent Seven” also gave us the more ambiguous heroes of “The Hour of the Gun.”
Incidentally, the scene described above is available on YouTube and has had nearly 3,000 views. It is an amazing sequence, even out of context of the rest of the film. Though the bloodletting is tame by today’s standards, the physical scene stands on its own. Type in your search engine: You Tube - Hour of the Gun -Steve Ihnat vs. James Garner and Jason Robards, or if you search for Hour of the Gun the link will appear.
The decade ends with “The Wild Bunch,” Sam Peckinpah’s amazing and ground breaking ode to the end of the West. It is also staged and filmed like a combat film, with more visceral bloodletting than any film before, juxtaposed against almost balletic camera shots that at once make the visual images hauntingly beautiful and desperately brutal. By today’s standards, the blood spatter is tame, but for its time “The Wild Bunch” depicted death by gunshot as a messy business that left bodies scattered and the wounded groaning in agony. In this one, four outlaws at the end of their careers make one last job into their epitaph. This time we have all gray areas to contend with: some of the villains are heroes because everyone is a villain. In a reversal of “The Magnificent Seven,” in this film a gang of outlaw Americans go to a foreign land (Mexico again), with only one real motive, destruction.
The new decade began with a film that many consider an indictment of America’s foreign policy, “Little Big Man” (1970). Once again the lines are clearly drawn, only this time Americans are an invading force while the native Cheyenne and Sioux are the local indigenous population being pummeled into submission by a loosely organized policy of genocide. As great storytelling, “Little Big Man” is one of the finest films ever made in America, with complex characters, timely humor, and sensitivity to a dying people struggling not to die. As a political statement, the film completes the self-depreciation of American motives and actions just as the protests at home against the Vietnam War reach their zenith. It is obvious who the bad guys are, and they are us.
The Westerns that follow these five feature more complex, more ambiguous heroes and anti-heroes. The genre has slipped into a more occasional method for telling often revisionist story lines about America’s past, and by extension, her present and future. If art reflects the extremes of the culture that creates it, then the 1960’s brought moviegoers one hundred eighty degrees from certainty to questioning.
We are questioning still, which I think is good.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Nice Things Happen Even At Work
Sometimes nice things happen on the job.
I came back into the office after completing my rounds on Thursday to be greeted by my supervisor. "Mr. Blokker!"
I'm used to being addressed so formally at work. It's part respect, and part kidding, since I am now one of the oldest postal carriers in our office. But, still, when someone in authority practically shouts my name, I begin to wonder what I did wrong. Trying to be cool, I said, "Hi, Glen."
Glen raised his voice even louder, firmly saying, "Everyone here! Listen up! Mr. Blokker got a compliment from a customer that's been posted on the USPS national web page!"
One of my fellow carriers asked him what it said. Glen explained, "The customer says she has never before had such consistent, accurate and friendly service."
It happened that several supervisors were in the office at the moment. Each one congratulated me in turn. Then I went back to checking in so I could go home. I was thinking that you always hear it when you do badly and it's good to hear when you've done well.
Another carrier congratulated me and asked, "What did you do?"
I smiled and said, "My job."
I came back into the office after completing my rounds on Thursday to be greeted by my supervisor. "Mr. Blokker!"
I'm used to being addressed so formally at work. It's part respect, and part kidding, since I am now one of the oldest postal carriers in our office. But, still, when someone in authority practically shouts my name, I begin to wonder what I did wrong. Trying to be cool, I said, "Hi, Glen."
Glen raised his voice even louder, firmly saying, "Everyone here! Listen up! Mr. Blokker got a compliment from a customer that's been posted on the USPS national web page!"
One of my fellow carriers asked him what it said. Glen explained, "The customer says she has never before had such consistent, accurate and friendly service."
It happened that several supervisors were in the office at the moment. Each one congratulated me in turn. Then I went back to checking in so I could go home. I was thinking that you always hear it when you do badly and it's good to hear when you've done well.
Another carrier congratulated me and asked, "What did you do?"
I smiled and said, "My job."
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