Sleeper holds the distinction of being the fifth film directed by Woody Allen. What an honor, right!? While there is nothing inherently important about a director's fifth film, Sleeper nonetheless is important in Allen's filmography. The movie marks a turning point in the director's career and style - one where he ever so slightly begins to leave his earlier slapstick, sketch comedy style behind in favor of more sophisticated ideas. That isn't to say the movie is concerned with more than making the audience laugh, because it is very much a comedy above all else. The film does, however, begin to use some of Allen's hallmark techniques and touches on a few of the themes he will come back to again and again in his work. The film may not be quintessential Allen, but it goes a long way in showing just what quintessential Allen will mean. In short, Sleeper is the first "Woody Allen movie."
The movie marks quite a few firsts for Allen. It's the first time the opening credits are white text on a black background set to jazz music, something that (I think) has been done for all of his films since. The film also marks the beginning of his film collaboration with Diane Keaton (the two actually met during the Broadway run of Allen's play Play it Again, Sam). Keaton would go on to appear in the following four films directed by Allen, and six more in all. Sleeper was also Allen's first pairing with screenwriting partner Marshall Brickman. Allen and Brickman would team up for three more films (Annie Hall, Manhattan, and Manhattan Murder Mystery), and would put out some of the most well regarded work in Allen's filmography. Furthermore, Sleeper touches on some of the existential themes that Allen would delve deeper into with his subsequent work. Belief in God, the nature of love and sex, and man's place in the universe are all addressed (if only minimally). Such themes would only become more prominent in the director's future films. The movie also satirizes science, politics, art, and religion, all three of which Allen would continue mocking in later efforts.
While Sleeper may be a nice starting point for a discussion of Allen's overall style, it is also completely unlike anything else in his filmography. The movie serves as the director's only attempt at science fiction. Granted, it's a completely comedic take on the genre, but it nonetheless resides within the realm of sci-fi. In fact, the film is somewhat like a sci-fi parody. The narrative comedically portrays many well-worn science fiction storylines and plot points. The initial premise of the film (a man wakes up after sleeping for hundreds of years) may have been taken from H.G Wells' The Sleeper Awakes, but that premise is used in many, many other works as well. George Orwell's 1984 may have been the inspiration for the film's depiction of an oppressive government, but, again, that's a common theme within the genre. However, as I said, the film isn't a straight parody. It doesn't seem too concerned with commenting on the science fiction genre, or with taking aim at anything inherent within the genre. Allen uses those standard clichés commonly associated with sci-fi mostly to create his own brand of comedy, not to simply point them out ironically. The film is better off for this.
Allen's evolution as a writer is one of the more apparent strengths of Sleeper. This likely has a lot to do with his pairing with Brickman. Of Allen's previous four films, the only other one to attempt a traditional narrative is Bananas. When compared to that particular film, Sleeper is (pardon the poor sci-fi pun) light years ahead. Bananas is much more aligned with Allen's sketch comedy style, and the overall narrative suffers. Sleeper, on the other hand, is very much plot and character driven. While no one is going to claim the characters in Sleeper are deep or layered, they do come across as actual human beings and not cartoon characters thrown into a plot for comedic effect. In future films, Allen's characterizations become one of his strongest attributes as a filmmaker, and you can really start to see the focus of his writing beginning to shift with Sleeper.
As for the overall quality of the film, it's a solidly funny, clever movie. Like any good science fiction movie set in the future, it uses the contrasts between our lives and the lives of those in the future to make statements and criticize the current norms. There's enough intelligence in the movie that it isn't completely played for laughs. At the end of the day, though, that's still the film's aim. Allen is starting to pepper in some of the things that are important to him, but he's still going mostly for laughs. Sleeper is the first high quality Woody Allen movie, so it makes sense that he would refine this particular style in the future. Until next time...
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) (1972)
Aaaaaaaaaand three months later...
Woody Allen's fourth film is what seems to be an extremely loose adaptation of Dr. David Reuben's book of the same name. I've never read the book, but a little research will tell you that it was one of the first, and most popular, sex manuals. Now, again, I've never read the book, but I'd have a hard time believing someone if they told me a non-fiction book deemed a sex manual is at all comedic. Allen's film, on the other hand, is entirely comedic. His intent very well may have been to satirize and poke fun at the notion of understanding sexuality scientifically. After all, it seems a tad bit ridiculous to break down the most intimate act two human beings can share by defining the actions in cold, lifeless terms. Also, sex is fun. Reading about sex scientifically is not. Educational and informative? Sure. Fun? No chance. There’s also the notion of how far-fetched it is for there to be one be-all, end-all sex manual. The film goes to great lengths to show how many different ways each question can be answered. Granted, the answers the film provides are mostly silly, but still insightful. There are so many possibilities when studying sexuality, and so many variables within every person, that the very idea of a sex manual is preposterous. Of course, maybe I'm entirely off-base with this assumption and Reuben's book is the definitive text on the subject and a hoot to read. Either way, on to Allen's cinematic version.
I've mentioned in at least one of my previous write-ups that Allen seems to have a gift for sketch comedy. Take the Money and Run and Bananas both contain elements of sketch comedy. With Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) (which, heretofore, will be referred to as Everything... because I refuse to constantly type out that long ass title), Allen played to his strengths and made a film based almost exclusively on sketch comedy. The movie consists of seven separate, unrelated vignettes. Each vignette "attempts" to answer a question about, you guessed it, sex. These "attempts" all serve to either cleverly satirize or outright mock their respective question. It's tough to talk about the movie without breaking down each individual skit, as there is nothing relating the questions or skits other than pointing out how silly it is to attempt to answer these questions in the first place. So, here are a few thoughts on each skit, in order:
1. Do Aphrodisiacs Work?
An unfunny court jester (Allen) gives a love potion to his kingdom's Queen (Lynn Redgrave). What ensues is a comedy of errors with a few clever allusions to Shakespeare, specifically Hamlet. The aphrodisiac works on the Queen, but the jester is denied by her chastity belt. The belt serves as an obvious (which is a good thing in comedy) metaphor for the antiquated attitude towards sexuality prevalent at the time the film was made. This skit has a clever premise, it just isn't all that funny. The jokes are a little too slapstick-y.
2. What is Sodomy?
A doctor played by none other than Gene Wilder falls in love with a sheep. Apparently, that's sodomy. Thanks for the heads up, Woody. Wilder is pretty funny in the part, especially early on when he gets a chance to show off his incredibly expressive facial mannerisms. This skit is more ridiculous than anything else, although it is pretty funny. It drags a bit towards the end, and once we realize that the sheep is a stand-in for a typical relationship doomed by cheating, the skit has more than run its course.
3. Why Do Some Women Have Trouble Reaching an Orgasm?
A distanced bride can only achieve an orgasm by having sex in public (Allen’s send up of Italian films). More so than the plot of the skit, the details make up the highlights of this one. Spacious, empty rooms, outfits devoid of color, berets, and sunglasses are all used to poke a little fun at the often criticized "cold" Italian cinema. This one is obviously a slight satire, although, again, it isn't all that funny. A few surprising lines of dialogue comprise the majority of the laughs.
4. Are Transvestites Homosexuals?
A married man and his wife attend dinner at the home of their future in-laws. The man has a penchant for cross-dressing, unbeknownst to everyone else. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, stumbles into the couple's bedroom, and well, you get the picture. The question is twisted around and takes a look at how both transvestites and homosexuals must (or feel they must) similarly hide that part of their respective lives. It's pretty clever stuff, and funny.
5. What Are Sex Perverts?
Panelists attempt to guess the perversion of the in studio guest in this parody of the 50s and 60s game show What's My Line?. The skit is concerned with our obsession with perversions and the exploitative nature of television. What's more perverted, the actual perverts and whatever perversions they have, or those who relish learning about perverts and their perversions? Is that not perverted? This one is fairly funny, as the panelists ask such questions as, "Are you a rapist?" seriously. It's a bit uncomfortable, but still funny. This is probably the harshest and darkest of all the skits (not that it's all that dark). The segment at the end really brings home the comment on how television is wrongly used.
6. Are the Findings of Doctors and Clinics Who Do Sexual Research and Experiments Accurate?
Allen is a sex researcher on his way to collaborate with a well-regarded sex doctor (John Carradine), who turns out to be a mad scientist. Along the way he picks up Helen (Heather MacRae), a journalist on her way to write a story on the doctor. The two see a lot of things they shouldn't, realize the doctor is insane, and end up being chased by a gigantic breast. The skit is essentially a mini comedic horror movie that doubles as an homage to the horror films of the 50s. There's no real point this vignette is making, unless we're to believe this is how Allen views the so-called "sex experts". Either way, this one is mostly just a fun time.
7. What Happens During Ejaculation?
Taking place entirely within the body of a man during the lead up to, and participation in, a sexual encounter, this vignette is the highlight of the film. It hilariously depicts the complex relationship between the various organs and systems in the human body. It does an excellent job of showing just how complicated sexuality really is while still remaining funny. The skit is smart, funny, and a very pointed comment at the ridiculousness of studying sex scientifically.
Aside from the seven vignettes, I should also mention the opening and closing credits. Set to images of a group of white bunny rabbits and Cole Porter's Let's Misbehave, Allen makes a promise to his audience that he delivers on in spades.
All in all, the film is a success. It manages to stay funny while taking a tongue-in-cheek look at the scientific study of sex. This is conceptual comedy infused with slapstick. It's the next step in Allen's evolution as a writer and performer, as Bananas was similar but not as well-developed. The film, while not a great one, marks Allen's first foray into real substance. Sure, it's still an overall silly film, but it is one that at least attempts to give an audience something other than laughs.
Woody Allen's fourth film is what seems to be an extremely loose adaptation of Dr. David Reuben's book of the same name. I've never read the book, but a little research will tell you that it was one of the first, and most popular, sex manuals. Now, again, I've never read the book, but I'd have a hard time believing someone if they told me a non-fiction book deemed a sex manual is at all comedic. Allen's film, on the other hand, is entirely comedic. His intent very well may have been to satirize and poke fun at the notion of understanding sexuality scientifically. After all, it seems a tad bit ridiculous to break down the most intimate act two human beings can share by defining the actions in cold, lifeless terms. Also, sex is fun. Reading about sex scientifically is not. Educational and informative? Sure. Fun? No chance. There’s also the notion of how far-fetched it is for there to be one be-all, end-all sex manual. The film goes to great lengths to show how many different ways each question can be answered. Granted, the answers the film provides are mostly silly, but still insightful. There are so many possibilities when studying sexuality, and so many variables within every person, that the very idea of a sex manual is preposterous. Of course, maybe I'm entirely off-base with this assumption and Reuben's book is the definitive text on the subject and a hoot to read. Either way, on to Allen's cinematic version.
I've mentioned in at least one of my previous write-ups that Allen seems to have a gift for sketch comedy. Take the Money and Run and Bananas both contain elements of sketch comedy. With Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) (which, heretofore, will be referred to as Everything... because I refuse to constantly type out that long ass title), Allen played to his strengths and made a film based almost exclusively on sketch comedy. The movie consists of seven separate, unrelated vignettes. Each vignette "attempts" to answer a question about, you guessed it, sex. These "attempts" all serve to either cleverly satirize or outright mock their respective question. It's tough to talk about the movie without breaking down each individual skit, as there is nothing relating the questions or skits other than pointing out how silly it is to attempt to answer these questions in the first place. So, here are a few thoughts on each skit, in order:
1. Do Aphrodisiacs Work?
An unfunny court jester (Allen) gives a love potion to his kingdom's Queen (Lynn Redgrave). What ensues is a comedy of errors with a few clever allusions to Shakespeare, specifically Hamlet. The aphrodisiac works on the Queen, but the jester is denied by her chastity belt. The belt serves as an obvious (which is a good thing in comedy) metaphor for the antiquated attitude towards sexuality prevalent at the time the film was made. This skit has a clever premise, it just isn't all that funny. The jokes are a little too slapstick-y.
2. What is Sodomy?
A doctor played by none other than Gene Wilder falls in love with a sheep. Apparently, that's sodomy. Thanks for the heads up, Woody. Wilder is pretty funny in the part, especially early on when he gets a chance to show off his incredibly expressive facial mannerisms. This skit is more ridiculous than anything else, although it is pretty funny. It drags a bit towards the end, and once we realize that the sheep is a stand-in for a typical relationship doomed by cheating, the skit has more than run its course.
3. Why Do Some Women Have Trouble Reaching an Orgasm?
A distanced bride can only achieve an orgasm by having sex in public (Allen’s send up of Italian films). More so than the plot of the skit, the details make up the highlights of this one. Spacious, empty rooms, outfits devoid of color, berets, and sunglasses are all used to poke a little fun at the often criticized "cold" Italian cinema. This one is obviously a slight satire, although, again, it isn't all that funny. A few surprising lines of dialogue comprise the majority of the laughs.
4. Are Transvestites Homosexuals?
A married man and his wife attend dinner at the home of their future in-laws. The man has a penchant for cross-dressing, unbeknownst to everyone else. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom, stumbles into the couple's bedroom, and well, you get the picture. The question is twisted around and takes a look at how both transvestites and homosexuals must (or feel they must) similarly hide that part of their respective lives. It's pretty clever stuff, and funny.
5. What Are Sex Perverts?
Panelists attempt to guess the perversion of the in studio guest in this parody of the 50s and 60s game show What's My Line?. The skit is concerned with our obsession with perversions and the exploitative nature of television. What's more perverted, the actual perverts and whatever perversions they have, or those who relish learning about perverts and their perversions? Is that not perverted? This one is fairly funny, as the panelists ask such questions as, "Are you a rapist?" seriously. It's a bit uncomfortable, but still funny. This is probably the harshest and darkest of all the skits (not that it's all that dark). The segment at the end really brings home the comment on how television is wrongly used.
6. Are the Findings of Doctors and Clinics Who Do Sexual Research and Experiments Accurate?
Allen is a sex researcher on his way to collaborate with a well-regarded sex doctor (John Carradine), who turns out to be a mad scientist. Along the way he picks up Helen (Heather MacRae), a journalist on her way to write a story on the doctor. The two see a lot of things they shouldn't, realize the doctor is insane, and end up being chased by a gigantic breast. The skit is essentially a mini comedic horror movie that doubles as an homage to the horror films of the 50s. There's no real point this vignette is making, unless we're to believe this is how Allen views the so-called "sex experts". Either way, this one is mostly just a fun time.
7. What Happens During Ejaculation?
Taking place entirely within the body of a man during the lead up to, and participation in, a sexual encounter, this vignette is the highlight of the film. It hilariously depicts the complex relationship between the various organs and systems in the human body. It does an excellent job of showing just how complicated sexuality really is while still remaining funny. The skit is smart, funny, and a very pointed comment at the ridiculousness of studying sex scientifically.
Aside from the seven vignettes, I should also mention the opening and closing credits. Set to images of a group of white bunny rabbits and Cole Porter's Let's Misbehave, Allen makes a promise to his audience that he delivers on in spades.
All in all, the film is a success. It manages to stay funny while taking a tongue-in-cheek look at the scientific study of sex. This is conceptual comedy infused with slapstick. It's the next step in Allen's evolution as a writer and performer, as Bananas was similar but not as well-developed. The film, while not a great one, marks Allen's first foray into real substance. Sure, it's still an overall silly film, but it is one that at least attempts to give an audience something other than laughs.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Bananas (1971)
Woody Allen's third film, Bananas, is an example of a director beginning to mature. While the movie is still a minor comedy, Allen shows a willingness to delve a bit deeper with his subject matter. The movie veers slightly, and harmlessly, into the realm of satire. Bananas is partly entrenched in the slapstick style of Allen's first two features, as a good deal of its running time is concerned with moving from joke to joke as quickly as possible. This is par for the course in terms of what Allen has established in his first two films. However, where Bananas differs is in Allen's choice to spoof the revolutionary, political activism of the 60s. Ultimately, the movie isn't very successful as a satire and works much better as a straight comedy. In short, Dr. Strangelove this ain't. Allen's growth as a director may be minimal, but baby steps are always the first steps, right?
One big problem with Bananas is the structure of the narrative. The film uses its first 10-15 minutes to establish the character of Fielding Mellish (Allen). Fielding is the standard neurotic Woody Allen character, who this time around happens to be a product tester. These sequences are essentially elongated comedy skits used to show Fielding as an insignificant, inept nobody. Many of the comedy skits, not only here but throughout the movie, are reminiscent of something Chaplin or Keaton would have done in their silent films (particularly Chaplin who had a tendency to combine slapstick with peppy, upbeat music). It is a funny way to establish the character, but afterwards we're thrown directly into the budding romance between Fielding and Nancy (Allen's real-life wife Louise Lasser). These scenes, along with the rest of the film, are completely unlike the film's first 10-15 minutes. It's as if those initial sequences establishing Fielding belong in a different movie entirely.
This method of establishing character is similar to how Allen established Virgil in Take the Money and Run. While that technique worked in the mockumentary format, it doesn't come off so well here. A mockumentary allows for a little more freedom because the entire plot consists of a bunch of interrelated comedy sketches. Characterizations can be a bit broader and still retain their believability (or as much believability as is needed in a mockumentary). Or, put less wordily, the mockumentary lends itself much better to overt silliness. In a traditional narrative, however, characters are the driving force of the story and they need to be fleshed out completely even in a silly comedy. To introduce a character one way (with the comedy skits) and then present him differently (in more traditional, dialogue driven scenes) creates a jarring effect. It’s as if Allen created Fielding as a cartoon character, and then asked the audience to believe him as a real person, in a real-ish setting. Bananas was essentially Allen's first attempt at a conventional narrative, so a few bumps in the road were to be expected. As he progresses as a writer and filmmaker, these kinds of mistakes will become seamless transitions.
The rest of the storyline is simply a fish out of water scenario, as Fielding is thrown into a political revolution in San Marcos. One-liners abound and the story moves forward towards it's inevitable conclusion. Many of the jokes are funny, some aren't so funny. Sylvester Stallone even makes a cameo as a hoodlum. There isn't much of note in the film, although the 82 minutes pass by rather quickly. Comedy is the most subjective type of film, so it's pointless to drone on about what is funny versus what isn't funny. Just know that if you watch it, you'll likely laugh at something. And really, that's the aim of the movie at the end of the day.
My biggest problem (if it can be considered a problem) with Bananas is the missed opportunities for substance. Granted, the movie doesn't desire to have much substance, and I should probably judge it with that in mind. That said, I can't help but wonder what Woody Allen could have done with this movie 10-15 years later. There are ample opportunities to comment on the politics, attitudes, and cultural mindset of the 1960s, and I think a more mature Allen could have brought a ton of insight to the film in that respect. Instead, we get another laugh-a-minute production from him. Again, I'm not so sure that's a fault of the film. After all, can you really fault a movie for not being something it doesn't strive to be? Fair or not, I still can't pretend I wasn't a little disappointed.
So, how do I feel about Bananas? Well, I hate the fruit - bananas are disgusting. I also can't stand the Gwen Stefani song, Hollaback Girl, where she spells the word out in the chorus. Only a brain-dead moron would like that song (too harsh?). As for the movie, I enjoyed it. Sure, it's another minor Woody Allen comedy that has nothing to offer other than laughs (a kind of movie I find myself currently growing weary of), but it works. You could certainly do much worse when it comes to comedy.
Next up is 1972's Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask), although I'm not sure when that will be. Netflix has recently (within the past few weeks) discontinued carrying the film, so I'll have to buy the movie. As soon as I order the movie and receive it, I'll get to it, it just may take an extra week or two. That's all for now. Good tidings and such...
One big problem with Bananas is the structure of the narrative. The film uses its first 10-15 minutes to establish the character of Fielding Mellish (Allen). Fielding is the standard neurotic Woody Allen character, who this time around happens to be a product tester. These sequences are essentially elongated comedy skits used to show Fielding as an insignificant, inept nobody. Many of the comedy skits, not only here but throughout the movie, are reminiscent of something Chaplin or Keaton would have done in their silent films (particularly Chaplin who had a tendency to combine slapstick with peppy, upbeat music). It is a funny way to establish the character, but afterwards we're thrown directly into the budding romance between Fielding and Nancy (Allen's real-life wife Louise Lasser). These scenes, along with the rest of the film, are completely unlike the film's first 10-15 minutes. It's as if those initial sequences establishing Fielding belong in a different movie entirely.
This method of establishing character is similar to how Allen established Virgil in Take the Money and Run. While that technique worked in the mockumentary format, it doesn't come off so well here. A mockumentary allows for a little more freedom because the entire plot consists of a bunch of interrelated comedy sketches. Characterizations can be a bit broader and still retain their believability (or as much believability as is needed in a mockumentary). Or, put less wordily, the mockumentary lends itself much better to overt silliness. In a traditional narrative, however, characters are the driving force of the story and they need to be fleshed out completely even in a silly comedy. To introduce a character one way (with the comedy skits) and then present him differently (in more traditional, dialogue driven scenes) creates a jarring effect. It’s as if Allen created Fielding as a cartoon character, and then asked the audience to believe him as a real person, in a real-ish setting. Bananas was essentially Allen's first attempt at a conventional narrative, so a few bumps in the road were to be expected. As he progresses as a writer and filmmaker, these kinds of mistakes will become seamless transitions.
The rest of the storyline is simply a fish out of water scenario, as Fielding is thrown into a political revolution in San Marcos. One-liners abound and the story moves forward towards it's inevitable conclusion. Many of the jokes are funny, some aren't so funny. Sylvester Stallone even makes a cameo as a hoodlum. There isn't much of note in the film, although the 82 minutes pass by rather quickly. Comedy is the most subjective type of film, so it's pointless to drone on about what is funny versus what isn't funny. Just know that if you watch it, you'll likely laugh at something. And really, that's the aim of the movie at the end of the day.
My biggest problem (if it can be considered a problem) with Bananas is the missed opportunities for substance. Granted, the movie doesn't desire to have much substance, and I should probably judge it with that in mind. That said, I can't help but wonder what Woody Allen could have done with this movie 10-15 years later. There are ample opportunities to comment on the politics, attitudes, and cultural mindset of the 1960s, and I think a more mature Allen could have brought a ton of insight to the film in that respect. Instead, we get another laugh-a-minute production from him. Again, I'm not so sure that's a fault of the film. After all, can you really fault a movie for not being something it doesn't strive to be? Fair or not, I still can't pretend I wasn't a little disappointed.
So, how do I feel about Bananas? Well, I hate the fruit - bananas are disgusting. I also can't stand the Gwen Stefani song, Hollaback Girl, where she spells the word out in the chorus. Only a brain-dead moron would like that song (too harsh?). As for the movie, I enjoyed it. Sure, it's another minor Woody Allen comedy that has nothing to offer other than laughs (a kind of movie I find myself currently growing weary of), but it works. You could certainly do much worse when it comes to comedy.
Next up is 1972's Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask), although I'm not sure when that will be. Netflix has recently (within the past few weeks) discontinued carrying the film, so I'll have to buy the movie. As soon as I order the movie and receive it, I'll get to it, it just may take an extra week or two. That's all for now. Good tidings and such...
Friday, April 23, 2010
Take the Money and Run (1969)
Woody Allen's second directorial effort (which is his first real directorial effort) is a movie that's difficult to have much passion towards. It's a light, funny, breezy 85 minutes that bogs down occasionally and is a bit too fragmented. It's tough to feel strongly for, or against, the movie.
With Take the Money and Run Allen chose to tell the story of fictional criminal Virgil Starkwell (played by Allen). The film is a "life and times" type deal told in mockumentary format. The unabashedly comedic movie combines Allen's famous one-liners and slapstick with a slight peppering of crime/prison movie parody. Like What's Up, Tiger Lily? the plot only roughly exists and functions more as a canvas for comedy than anything else. The difference between the two movies is that Allen had to cast actors and shoot scenes this time. You know, actually make a movie.
The movie is notable for being the first of Allen's films that he writes, directs, and acts in (I guess he technically did all three for What's Up, Tiger Lily?, but he was a voice actor, and the "direction" consisted more of some clever editing than anything else). This trifecta would become a staple of the director's movies. Up until 2004's Melinda and Melinda, Allen would appear as an actor in all but seven of his films (he writes and directs all of his features). Since then he's only acted in one of his movies (2006's Scoop).
Take the Money and Run is probably most significant for introducing the Woody Allen persona. That persona being the nebbish, neurotic, meek character he made famous. The character became so synonymous with Allen that most people generally assume the man is similar in real life (by most accounts I've read, he isn't). The movie version of Woody Allen exists with slight variations from film to film - in Take the Money and Run he's an idiotic, inept criminal. Allen almost always plays some variation of the character in his movies, so his initial appearance is pretty significant when looking at his filmography.
As for the film itself, it is standard early Woody Allen. Early Woody wants the audience to laugh and that's about it. In this, and any, mockumentary the comedy stems from how straight the entire ordeal is played. There's a gravely serious narrator (Jackson Beck) that is prone to giving the viewers odd, silly, and often nonsensical facts about the movie's characters. Virgil's escape plan from prison involves a fake gun made from soap and shoe polish. His parents appear frequently, with both disguised as Groucho Marx. The entire 85 minutes is comprised of one ridiculous event after another. The key to comedy in the mockumentary is that the characters aren't in on the joke - only the audience is. Virgil thinks his soapy gun is an ingenious idea. The narrator doesn't think there's anything silly when he tells us, "Food on a chain gang is scarce and not very nourishing. The men get one hot meal a day: a bowl of steam."
The jokes in the film range from absolutely hilarious to cringe-worthy. Most work, but quite a few fall completely flat - most notably, the constant interjections from Virgil's parents. The parents appear 4 or 5 times throughout the film, and by the second or third time they become annoying. The routine becomes stale - a routine, mind you, that wasn't that funny in the first place. These parental disruptions were the only major problem I had with the movie. The interruptions give the movie a bit of a disjointed feel. There are certainly other jokes that miss, but nothing on this large of a scale. A joke here or there missing is water under the bridge. An entire concept failing is a significant fault.
So, what does work? Well, the opening sequence, for one. The opening details Virgil's childhood and how he goes from social outcast to petty criminal to prison inmate. It's a very funny few minutes. There's also Virgil's botched bank robbery, which can be blamed on him for misspelling either gun (as gub) or act (as apt) on his robbery note. The clerks at the bank can't understand the note, and eventually the entire bank is huddled around trying to decipher what it actually says. There's no time for Virgil to actually rob the bank before the cops arrive. After all, he simply must be sure the bank employees completely understand everything his note says. The best part about this joke is later in the movie when Virgil casually calls his gun a "gub". Finally, there's a hilarious montage as Virgil gets ready in his apartment for his date with Louise. Once Virgil gets out of the shower, the camera remains focused on his upper half as he dresses and prepares for the date. In typical montagian (definitely a word I just made up) fashion, the last beat of the music plays as the door closes on Virgil walking out, seemingly ready to go on his date. The camera remains focused on the door. A few seconds later Virgil reenters the apartment with a towel still wrapped around his lower half. For me, this was the funniest gag in the film.
Over the course of a week I watched the movie 3 times, and each time I found it funnier. I found myself laughing in anticipation of certain jokes. That's got to count for something, right? As far as a point, the closest I could come to anything of substance was in a scene with Allen's first real-life wife, Louise Lasser. She plays a girl, Kay Lewis, who knew Virgil as a youth and is interviewed towards the end of the film to give her thoughts on him. She goes to great lengths to stress how amazed she is that such an idiot and complete nothing could have the brain to be a career criminal. Maybe there's a bit of social commentary in there about how our society tends to glorify and prop up certain aspects of criminal life (think Bonnie and Clyde, Al Capone, etc.). In reality, there isn't anything noble or worthy in being a criminal - only an idiot, like Virgil, would choose such a life. On second thought, I'm probably giving the movie too much credit. I don't think Take the Money and Run is concerned with anything more than giving it's viewers a few laughs. It succeeds in that regard, but in the end, while more polished than What's Up, Tiger Lily?, this is still a fairly minor film.
With Take the Money and Run Allen chose to tell the story of fictional criminal Virgil Starkwell (played by Allen). The film is a "life and times" type deal told in mockumentary format. The unabashedly comedic movie combines Allen's famous one-liners and slapstick with a slight peppering of crime/prison movie parody. Like What's Up, Tiger Lily? the plot only roughly exists and functions more as a canvas for comedy than anything else. The difference between the two movies is that Allen had to cast actors and shoot scenes this time. You know, actually make a movie.
The movie is notable for being the first of Allen's films that he writes, directs, and acts in (I guess he technically did all three for What's Up, Tiger Lily?, but he was a voice actor, and the "direction" consisted more of some clever editing than anything else). This trifecta would become a staple of the director's movies. Up until 2004's Melinda and Melinda, Allen would appear as an actor in all but seven of his films (he writes and directs all of his features). Since then he's only acted in one of his movies (2006's Scoop).
Take the Money and Run is probably most significant for introducing the Woody Allen persona. That persona being the nebbish, neurotic, meek character he made famous. The character became so synonymous with Allen that most people generally assume the man is similar in real life (by most accounts I've read, he isn't). The movie version of Woody Allen exists with slight variations from film to film - in Take the Money and Run he's an idiotic, inept criminal. Allen almost always plays some variation of the character in his movies, so his initial appearance is pretty significant when looking at his filmography.
As for the film itself, it is standard early Woody Allen. Early Woody wants the audience to laugh and that's about it. In this, and any, mockumentary the comedy stems from how straight the entire ordeal is played. There's a gravely serious narrator (Jackson Beck) that is prone to giving the viewers odd, silly, and often nonsensical facts about the movie's characters. Virgil's escape plan from prison involves a fake gun made from soap and shoe polish. His parents appear frequently, with both disguised as Groucho Marx. The entire 85 minutes is comprised of one ridiculous event after another. The key to comedy in the mockumentary is that the characters aren't in on the joke - only the audience is. Virgil thinks his soapy gun is an ingenious idea. The narrator doesn't think there's anything silly when he tells us, "Food on a chain gang is scarce and not very nourishing. The men get one hot meal a day: a bowl of steam."
The jokes in the film range from absolutely hilarious to cringe-worthy. Most work, but quite a few fall completely flat - most notably, the constant interjections from Virgil's parents. The parents appear 4 or 5 times throughout the film, and by the second or third time they become annoying. The routine becomes stale - a routine, mind you, that wasn't that funny in the first place. These parental disruptions were the only major problem I had with the movie. The interruptions give the movie a bit of a disjointed feel. There are certainly other jokes that miss, but nothing on this large of a scale. A joke here or there missing is water under the bridge. An entire concept failing is a significant fault.
So, what does work? Well, the opening sequence, for one. The opening details Virgil's childhood and how he goes from social outcast to petty criminal to prison inmate. It's a very funny few minutes. There's also Virgil's botched bank robbery, which can be blamed on him for misspelling either gun (as gub) or act (as apt) on his robbery note. The clerks at the bank can't understand the note, and eventually the entire bank is huddled around trying to decipher what it actually says. There's no time for Virgil to actually rob the bank before the cops arrive. After all, he simply must be sure the bank employees completely understand everything his note says. The best part about this joke is later in the movie when Virgil casually calls his gun a "gub". Finally, there's a hilarious montage as Virgil gets ready in his apartment for his date with Louise. Once Virgil gets out of the shower, the camera remains focused on his upper half as he dresses and prepares for the date. In typical montagian (definitely a word I just made up) fashion, the last beat of the music plays as the door closes on Virgil walking out, seemingly ready to go on his date. The camera remains focused on the door. A few seconds later Virgil reenters the apartment with a towel still wrapped around his lower half. For me, this was the funniest gag in the film.
Over the course of a week I watched the movie 3 times, and each time I found it funnier. I found myself laughing in anticipation of certain jokes. That's got to count for something, right? As far as a point, the closest I could come to anything of substance was in a scene with Allen's first real-life wife, Louise Lasser. She plays a girl, Kay Lewis, who knew Virgil as a youth and is interviewed towards the end of the film to give her thoughts on him. She goes to great lengths to stress how amazed she is that such an idiot and complete nothing could have the brain to be a career criminal. Maybe there's a bit of social commentary in there about how our society tends to glorify and prop up certain aspects of criminal life (think Bonnie and Clyde, Al Capone, etc.). In reality, there isn't anything noble or worthy in being a criminal - only an idiot, like Virgil, would choose such a life. On second thought, I'm probably giving the movie too much credit. I don't think Take the Money and Run is concerned with anything more than giving it's viewers a few laughs. It succeeds in that regard, but in the end, while more polished than What's Up, Tiger Lily?, this is still a fairly minor film.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Shitty undies
Poopy McPoopPants pooped in his pants. Poopy McPoopPants did a shitty little dance. During his dance Poopy McPoopPants whined and said something about ants...and pants. Poopy McPoopPants wanted another chance. What's your stance? Does Poopy McPoopPants deserve a second chance? Or is your rebuttal a series of rants filled with cants? Feel free to prance your dumb ass to France. Next time, Poopy McPoopPants will shit in your pants.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
What's Up, Tiger Lily? (1966)
It might be about 2 months later than expected, but I'm finally getting the ball rolling on this Woody Allen project. I promise to see this through to the end, although I'm not entirely sure just how far into the future that end will be. Ideally, it would be a little over 40 weeks away, but, well, you see how long it’s taken me to write the initial entry. Hopefully, things go more smoothly once I knock this first one out. Without further ado:
What's Up, Tiger Lily? marks the directorial debut of Woody Allen. To call it an odd first film would be a bit of an understatement. Allen didn't actually cast any actors for the film, nor did he shoot any scenes. Instead, he mashed 2 different Japanese spy films (International Secret Police: A Barrel of Gunpowder and International Secret Police: Key of Keys) together, wrote and dubbed his own dialogue (with help from voice actors), and created a comedy. The result is a film that looks like a serious, albeit poor, James Bond rip-off, and sounds like an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.
The movie's "plot" focuses on Japanese James Bond clone Phil Moscowitz (Tatsuya Mihashi) as he attempts to retrieve a secret recipe for egg salad. That's right, the entire movie is about a secret agent trying to obtain a recipe for egg salad. With a plotline like that, there really isn't much more you need to know - the movie is obviously a farce. The plot is completely superficial and exists solely in order for Allen (and his various co-writers) to make as many jokes as possible in the movie’s 80-minute running time. The audience is inundated with one-liner after one-liner, as Allen keeps a brisk pace. The majority of the jokes hit their marks and their wide-ranging nature is one of the main reasons the movie works. The many various kinds of jokes (sexual innuendo, visual gags, racial jokes, etc.), combined with the fast pace, keeps the audience on their toes and gives the film a madcap vibe it otherwise wouldn't have had. While the style of dubbing over an existing work has been copied countless times, the movie doesn't feel worn or clichéd. Even though there are instances when some jokes fall flat, the majority of them remain funny enough (there’s a character who is essentially playing Peter Lorre, and even has the audacity to remark how difficult that impression is on his voice) to hold the viewer's interest.
What doesn't work in the film are the 2 separate musical interludes by The Lovin' Spoonful. Both are within the first 30 minutes of the film, and both are completely out of place. Both times the band is supposed to be playing at a Japanese club within the story of the movie, yet it’s apparent these scenes were shot at a different club. The group of teens dancing at whatever mystery location The Lovin' Spoonful has decided to inhabit isn’t even Japanese! We get an exterior shot of the club in Japan, then we cut to the band playing in front of dancing American teens! It’s painfully obvious that some studio exec decided to use the movie to market the band. Product placement – with people! The first interlude is only moderately annoying because it takes place towards the beginning of the film, and the movie has yet to really get rolling along. The second one, however, was infuriating. The movie is moving along quite well, the quips are being thrown out left and right, then BAM!, more Spoonful, more American teens dancing, more product placement, same awful band. It was like the movie had been intercut with an episode of American Bandstand.
The question I kept asking myself is this: What was Allen trying to accomplish with this movie? The movie is certainly a spoof of the spy film genre, and there are a few nods towards the unoriginality and utter ridiculousness of those kinds of movies, but there's not much else. The movie doesn't seem to have any other intentions, other than being funny and moderately clever. That's not a fault, as the movie succeeds in this regard, but it isn't consistent with the majority of Allen's work. I'm pretty sure Annie Hall (11 years and 6 features later) is his first attempt at anything with much substance, so I can't say this is much of a surprise.
I'm anticipating this being one of the more minor entries in Woody Allen's filmography. There isn't much to delve into as far as analysis, and since all Allen did was dub over an existing movie, there's nothing in the way of film technique to discuss. The film is a light, enjoyable exercise in silliness. I can't say that I'm disappointed, but when I look back on the film the only necessary descriptor is, "it was pretty funny." The movie does succeed on its own merits, so it should probably be considered a minor success. I’ve seen a few worse Woody Allen movies so I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t get a stinker to begin this project. Until next time…
What's Up, Tiger Lily? marks the directorial debut of Woody Allen. To call it an odd first film would be a bit of an understatement. Allen didn't actually cast any actors for the film, nor did he shoot any scenes. Instead, he mashed 2 different Japanese spy films (International Secret Police: A Barrel of Gunpowder and International Secret Police: Key of Keys) together, wrote and dubbed his own dialogue (with help from voice actors), and created a comedy. The result is a film that looks like a serious, albeit poor, James Bond rip-off, and sounds like an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.
The movie's "plot" focuses on Japanese James Bond clone Phil Moscowitz (Tatsuya Mihashi) as he attempts to retrieve a secret recipe for egg salad. That's right, the entire movie is about a secret agent trying to obtain a recipe for egg salad. With a plotline like that, there really isn't much more you need to know - the movie is obviously a farce. The plot is completely superficial and exists solely in order for Allen (and his various co-writers) to make as many jokes as possible in the movie’s 80-minute running time. The audience is inundated with one-liner after one-liner, as Allen keeps a brisk pace. The majority of the jokes hit their marks and their wide-ranging nature is one of the main reasons the movie works. The many various kinds of jokes (sexual innuendo, visual gags, racial jokes, etc.), combined with the fast pace, keeps the audience on their toes and gives the film a madcap vibe it otherwise wouldn't have had. While the style of dubbing over an existing work has been copied countless times, the movie doesn't feel worn or clichéd. Even though there are instances when some jokes fall flat, the majority of them remain funny enough (there’s a character who is essentially playing Peter Lorre, and even has the audacity to remark how difficult that impression is on his voice) to hold the viewer's interest.
What doesn't work in the film are the 2 separate musical interludes by The Lovin' Spoonful. Both are within the first 30 minutes of the film, and both are completely out of place. Both times the band is supposed to be playing at a Japanese club within the story of the movie, yet it’s apparent these scenes were shot at a different club. The group of teens dancing at whatever mystery location The Lovin' Spoonful has decided to inhabit isn’t even Japanese! We get an exterior shot of the club in Japan, then we cut to the band playing in front of dancing American teens! It’s painfully obvious that some studio exec decided to use the movie to market the band. Product placement – with people! The first interlude is only moderately annoying because it takes place towards the beginning of the film, and the movie has yet to really get rolling along. The second one, however, was infuriating. The movie is moving along quite well, the quips are being thrown out left and right, then BAM!, more Spoonful, more American teens dancing, more product placement, same awful band. It was like the movie had been intercut with an episode of American Bandstand.
The question I kept asking myself is this: What was Allen trying to accomplish with this movie? The movie is certainly a spoof of the spy film genre, and there are a few nods towards the unoriginality and utter ridiculousness of those kinds of movies, but there's not much else. The movie doesn't seem to have any other intentions, other than being funny and moderately clever. That's not a fault, as the movie succeeds in this regard, but it isn't consistent with the majority of Allen's work. I'm pretty sure Annie Hall (11 years and 6 features later) is his first attempt at anything with much substance, so I can't say this is much of a surprise.
I'm anticipating this being one of the more minor entries in Woody Allen's filmography. There isn't much to delve into as far as analysis, and since all Allen did was dub over an existing movie, there's nothing in the way of film technique to discuss. The film is a light, enjoyable exercise in silliness. I can't say that I'm disappointed, but when I look back on the film the only necessary descriptor is, "it was pretty funny." The movie does succeed on its own merits, so it should probably be considered a minor success. I’ve seen a few worse Woody Allen movies so I suppose I should be thankful I didn’t get a stinker to begin this project. Until next time…
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Movies or Films?
When you frequent your local theater do you go to the elaborate exercise of excess that is your local mutliplex, or do you seek out entertainment in the pretentious pomposity of a city arthouse cinema? When popping the newest arrival from Netflix into your DVD player, do you want the sensory overload of Transformers 2, or do you want the highbrow intellectualism of something like Lost in Translation? Connotatively speaking, which of the aforementioned cinematic offerings would you consider a movie? Which a film? Why is the differentiation made between the two? What makes something a movie, as opposed to a film? Why do I type entire paragraphs in question form? Ok, ok, seriously - What's the difference between a movie and a film?
Here's the short answer to this queerest of questions in a word - NOTHING!
Now, the long answer, in many words:
A good deal of folks think using the word "film" adds weight to their opinion. Why? Well, a psychological examination would likely lead you to believe it was insecurity manifesting itself in the form of self-importance - but that's neither here nor there, since it isn't the point of this post. A film is often seen as being more serious, or as having more artistic merit, than a mere movie. Consequently, those who watch these more meritous offerings have a tendency to look down upon those who enjoy something as trivial as a movie as entertainment only. Film, in all of it's cinematic glory, is where the truly enlightened movie-goer looks for entertainment. At least, that's the typical rationale. It's a classic case of unadulterated pretentiousness. Elitism. Film snobs. When mocked and put into commercial form elitism looks like this:
Now, you may be thinking, "Dude, I get this. This isn't insightful." You'd be right. It isn't. I take issue not with the existence of movie snobs or film dunces, but with the tendency for those that reside in both ends of the movie watching spectrum to automatically equate different with bad. After all, varrying tastes are a fact of life. Outright disregard and contempt for certain segments of movies, however, is not. For instance, someone who loves the Die Hard series that wouldn't even think about sitting through The Cider House Rules will be prone to missing out on many, many worthwhile films. A person enamored with Gosford Park that looks down on those who enjoy Zombieland, is equally prone to missing out on worthy entertainment. Casting a specific type of movie, whatever that type may be, off as "stupid", or "arty", or whatever other adjective your mind assigns to it, limits your film-watching sensibilites. Your ability to think about movies is hindered. Your opinion is less informed. As with any kind of opinion, the more informed you are, the more valid the opinion.
I'm not foolish enough to believe bringing a close-minded approach to movie watching reflects the character of a given person. However, I would argue that bringing such an approach can lead to a general lazy satisfaction with your opinions, which can lead to close-mindedness in other arenas of life. Close-minded people suck at life. It's an impossibility for them to be wrong, they don't feel as if they have anything to learn from anyone or anything, and they generally think they're better than everyone else. Their shit doesn't stink, so to speak.
Take heed, my friends. Your shit, like everyone else's, does, indeed, stink. It's very easy to selfishly believe in your own hubris. What isn't as easy is realizing opposing opinions and values have legitimate worth. Sure, its easy to pay lip service and tell yourself and others you respect differing opinions. It's an entirely different beast to actually respect those opinions and beliefs and allow them to sit equally next to your own.
I'm not above hubris, I fall victim to it's allure as well. We all want to be "right" and have our beliefs validated, so its only natural to have a desire to put your own values on a pedestal. The trick is coming to terms with the concept that there is no "right" or "wrong" when it comes to personal belief. There's only what you think. Its a difficult task to accomplish and by no means am I an authority on the subject. It is, however, something I find meaningful to pursue. Listening to and learning about other opinions, values, beliefs, faiths, or anything else that is foreign to you does not compromise your own beliefs. In fact, it makes your values stronger and more informed. It forces you to constantly evaluate yourself and your beliefs, which allows you to avoid a sense of stagnation. Speaking of stagnation, I believe this blog post is suffering such a malady. Until we meet again.
Here's the short answer to this queerest of questions in a word - NOTHING!
Now, the long answer, in many words:
A good deal of folks think using the word "film" adds weight to their opinion. Why? Well, a psychological examination would likely lead you to believe it was insecurity manifesting itself in the form of self-importance - but that's neither here nor there, since it isn't the point of this post. A film is often seen as being more serious, or as having more artistic merit, than a mere movie. Consequently, those who watch these more meritous offerings have a tendency to look down upon those who enjoy something as trivial as a movie as entertainment only. Film, in all of it's cinematic glory, is where the truly enlightened movie-goer looks for entertainment. At least, that's the typical rationale. It's a classic case of unadulterated pretentiousness. Elitism. Film snobs. When mocked and put into commercial form elitism looks like this:
Now, you may be thinking, "Dude, I get this. This isn't insightful." You'd be right. It isn't. I take issue not with the existence of movie snobs or film dunces, but with the tendency for those that reside in both ends of the movie watching spectrum to automatically equate different with bad. After all, varrying tastes are a fact of life. Outright disregard and contempt for certain segments of movies, however, is not. For instance, someone who loves the Die Hard series that wouldn't even think about sitting through The Cider House Rules will be prone to missing out on many, many worthwhile films. A person enamored with Gosford Park that looks down on those who enjoy Zombieland, is equally prone to missing out on worthy entertainment. Casting a specific type of movie, whatever that type may be, off as "stupid", or "arty", or whatever other adjective your mind assigns to it, limits your film-watching sensibilites. Your ability to think about movies is hindered. Your opinion is less informed. As with any kind of opinion, the more informed you are, the more valid the opinion.
I'm not foolish enough to believe bringing a close-minded approach to movie watching reflects the character of a given person. However, I would argue that bringing such an approach can lead to a general lazy satisfaction with your opinions, which can lead to close-mindedness in other arenas of life. Close-minded people suck at life. It's an impossibility for them to be wrong, they don't feel as if they have anything to learn from anyone or anything, and they generally think they're better than everyone else. Their shit doesn't stink, so to speak.
Take heed, my friends. Your shit, like everyone else's, does, indeed, stink. It's very easy to selfishly believe in your own hubris. What isn't as easy is realizing opposing opinions and values have legitimate worth. Sure, its easy to pay lip service and tell yourself and others you respect differing opinions. It's an entirely different beast to actually respect those opinions and beliefs and allow them to sit equally next to your own.
I'm not above hubris, I fall victim to it's allure as well. We all want to be "right" and have our beliefs validated, so its only natural to have a desire to put your own values on a pedestal. The trick is coming to terms with the concept that there is no "right" or "wrong" when it comes to personal belief. There's only what you think. Its a difficult task to accomplish and by no means am I an authority on the subject. It is, however, something I find meaningful to pursue. Listening to and learning about other opinions, values, beliefs, faiths, or anything else that is foreign to you does not compromise your own beliefs. In fact, it makes your values stronger and more informed. It forces you to constantly evaluate yourself and your beliefs, which allows you to avoid a sense of stagnation. Speaking of stagnation, I believe this blog post is suffering such a malady. Until we meet again.
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