Category: Film & Storytelling
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Twentieth Century Tweets: The Hollywood Telegram, Part I
You wouldn’t think, at first glance, that Albert Brooks and Cary Grant were soul mates. Cary Grant was the epitome of urbanity and screwball aplomb, and has been stated by no less than David Thomson to be the best film actor of the 20th Century. Brooks is a poodle-haired multi-talent with the demeanor of an…
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The Great and Powerful Roz
Just now, while flicking Jungle Red fingernails through the spammed questions I receive for this blog, I noticed the sort of query I usually relish (since it would lead us straight to Kenneth Anger territory– I am worryingly familiar with that dirty turf). The question was: “Could you tell me more about classic Hollywood’s grubby underbelly?” Why…
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The 5:17 to an Ass-Kicking: Million Dollar Baby
I once read an article in London’s Evening Standard in which a journalist took England’s most famous female boxer, Cathy Brown, to see Million Dollar Baby. Brown had recently knocked out Hungarian Viktoria Varga after just two rounds– exactly the type of fight Hilary Swank’s character, Maggie, excels at in the film. I’ve seen the film again recently and…
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A Surrealist Poet, Francois Truffaut, and Jane Russell’s Nipples Walk into a Bar. . ..
Let’s all enjoy the moment when, in 1958, Francois Truffaut made a sudden leap from high art to low neckline. In a graceful segue, France’s premier filmmaker and critic, pivoted from a quote by Guillaume Apollonaire (France’s great surrealist poet of World War I), to Howard Hughes’ obsessive presentation of Jane Russell’s nipples. Now that…
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“Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”? Another Unncecessary Remake, That’s What!
So it’s official, and has been for a month or so. Whatever Happened to “Baby Jane”? It’s Getting a Remake. Which seemed to me to be one of the silliest decisions I’ve encountered since Hollywood tried to remake The Women and ended up pouring bong water over the embers of Meg Ryan’s career. But naturally they’re at it again. …
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NYC Films on the Green, Summer 2012: OSS 117, Cairo Nest of Spies
I never understood the allure of James Bond films–or rather, I never understood why the hell anyone would admit to being a fan of such pendulously dull male adolescent fantasies. I’d get it if these films had been screened like nudie films used to be, in select ares of Times Square, where those burdened with a shameful yen for cartoonish…
Dana Dunbaugh Burnell 