TiVoPlex
By John Seal
November 7, 2005
BoxOfficeProphets.com
Tuesday 11/08/05
2am Turner Classic Movies
Big-Hearted Herbert (1934 USA): According to my handy online dictionary of British slang (www.dictionaryofslang.co.uk) a "herbert" is a noun meaning "a dull objectionable person'. In this long-forgotten Warner's" comedy, a Herbert is a plumber whose successful business is driving a wedge between himself and his family. Sounds pretty objectionable to me. This Herbert is played by the inimitable Guy Kibbee, his wife by TiVoPlex favorite Aline MacMahon, and his abandoned offspring by Patricia Ellis, Junior Durkin, and Jay Ward, none of whom I would recognize in a police line-up. It all adds up to a very minor proto-feminist tale of male perfidy, written by Shaggy Dog creator Lillie Hayward, and helmed by one of Warner's most reliable directors, William Keighley.
4:10am HBO
Watermarks (2004 ISR): This documentary about female swimmers in pre-World War II Austria may leave you feeling a little verklempt, but the lump in your throat is honestly earned. Reuniting the surviving members of Vienna's Jewish Hakoah swim team, who had scattered to the four winds after the Anschluss of 1938, Watermarks recounts the fascinating journeys and lives of eight women who still like to get wet. Now living in Israel, the United States, Britain, and elsewhere, these hardy survivors returned to Vienna to take a final lap for posterity in their old training pool. Besides the emotional rollercoaster ride, Watermarks also supplies definitive proof that swimming is really good for you: these octogenarians are in remarkably good condition and can still do the breaststroke with the best of them almost 70 years on. Also airs at 7:10am.
10am IFC
American Passport (1999 USA): Westerners do like to globe hop, and, in an apparent effort to leave behind their dull 9-5 lives, frequently seem to favor the most exotic and dangerous locations possible. This film takes a look at one such traveler, filmmaker Reed Paget, who, on a lark, spent three years trundling from war zone to war zone, recording the sights and sounds of police brutality, government repression, and plain, good old-fashioned armed aggression. Paget intersperses this footage with interviews with his troglodyte of a grandfather, an unreconstructed former CIA operative who generally roots for the bad guys. This unusual and refreshing low-budget documentary won the Grand Jury Prize at 1999's Slamdance Festival. Also airs 11/9 at 6:45am and 11/14 at 5am.
7pm Sundance
Cowards Bend the Knee (2003 CAN): Ah, Guy Maddin; will he ever fulfill his potential? I thought 2002's Dracula: Pages From a Virgin's Diary was a step in the right direction; with Maddin's penchant for obtuse tributes to silent filmmaking in abeyance, he actually seemed interested as much in telling a story as in paying homage to the stylistic tics of his favored decade (not to mention David Lynch). Unfortunately, Cowards Bend the Knee sees the Canadian bad boy revert to type: the film offers compelling and beautiful imagery, but is a typically frigid and bizarre concoction about, of all things, hockey. And abortion. Whilst I think Maddin's films are always worth a look, they continue to leave me cold, reminding me of such post-industrial auteurs as Shinya Tsukamoto. Also airs 11/14 at 8:30pm.
10pm Turner Classic Movies
The Dogs of War (1980 GB-USA): This somber adventure flick makes its wide-screen television debut this evening. Based on a novel by Frederick Forsythe and directed by journeyman John Irwin, The Dogs of War stars Christopher Walken as a mercenary hired on behalf of a multi-national to assist in regime change in a small African nation. The very solid supporting cast includes Hugh Millais, Tom Berenger, Robert Urquhart, Shane Rimmer, and a young Jim Broadbent, and the film benefits from location photography in Belize lensed by the great Jack Cardiff. Though it takes a while to get going, this is an above-average story of intrigue and suspense for action fans not averse to taking in an occasional cerebral movie.
Wednesday 11/09/05
4:30pm HBO
Paper Clips (2004 USA): This HBO original production is more than just another Holocaust documentary; it's also a stunningly simple lesson in ethics and morality, not to mention mathematics. Inspired by a Tennessee town's school project to collect six million paper clips - one to approximately represent each victim of the Holocaust - the film documents the unexpected life the project took on, as what was supposed to be a one-off turned into a five-year undertaking that eventually touched people around the world and changed some attitudes at home, as well. Though the film is marred somewhat by a mawkish soundtrack, it's still a powerful piece of work, and airs throughout November.
6pm Showtime 2
Mean Girls (2004 USA): Teen comedies are a dime a dozen, a baker's dozen. Here's one that rises head-and-shoulders above the crowd. It's a 21st century update on the Heathers trope, with Lindsay Lohan playing Cady, a new girl at school who doesn't quite fit in with the established cliques and isn't good at playing their games either. Cady manages to get into the good graces of the Plastics, her school's top-of-the-line girl gang, but soon finds that adhering to their rules and regulations is a bit more than she can handle. Written by SNL alum Tina Fey, Mean Girls miraculously avoids most of the genre clichés, makes cogent observations about high school life, and benefits from intelligent casting. It's being broadcast wide-screen and also airs 11/12 at 5pm and 8pm.
Thursday 11/10/05
9:35am Starz! Edge
Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n' Roll (1987 USA): It's spoiled a bit by the garish trappings of its dated 1987 look, but this tribute to rock-and-roll patriarch Chuck Berry still scores points where it counts the most: musically. A staple for many years during PBS pledge drives, Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n' Roll returns to cable minus the annoying attempts to "sell" you a video copy of the movie in exchange for your fealty to public broadcasting. There's a bit too much Eric Clapton and Keith Richards for my taste, but balance is provided by retro rockers Bo Diddley, Little Richard, and Jerry Lee Lewis, as well as the great Etta James and the still-missed Roy Orbison. Berry's mercurial personality is also prominently displayed, and as one who attended a Chuck concert two years ago, I can attest to his prickly refusal to rehearse or tune his guitar before a performance! Nevertheless, he remains an irreplaceable living legend of early rock, and don't he just know it!
8pm IFC
Magnolia (1999 USA): Box Office Prophets got its start back in 1999, and one of the first things I wrote for the site was an essay about the then-in-release Paul Anderson feature Magnolia. Due to circumstances beyond my control - I think the early version of the site crashed for a few weeks - that review never saw the light of day. At the risk of overextending this week's TiVoPlex, here it is, appearing for the first time anywhere, uncut, slightly amended, and without commercial interruption. Magnolia also airs 11/11 at midnight.
"Everything in our experience is only a part of something else that in turn is only a part of still something else...there is nothing beautiful in our experience: only appearances that are intermediate to beauty and ugliness...only universality is complete...only the complete is the beautiful... every attempt to achieve beauty is an attempt to give to the local the attribute of the universal." - Charles Fort, The Book of the Damned
Charles Fort (1874-1932) made a career of collecting pseudo-scientific ephemera from the pages of newspapers and journals. His most famous book, The Book of the Damned, remains in print today and a quick Google search will direct you to the Charles Fort Institute and The Fortean Times, both contemporary defenders of Fort's less-than-rigorous scientific method. Fort lived a life of poverty and loneliness until he died of leukemia, his cause - to prove the existence of scientific phenomena that defy logic, such as rains of stones, fish, or frogs - still uppermost in his mind.
"A shower of frogs which darkened the air and covered the ground for a long distance is the reported result of a recent rainstorm in Kansas City, Mo." (Scientific American, July 12 1873, as excerpted in The Book of the Damned)
Perhaps it should come as little surprise then that filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson has celebrated Fort. Not only does the climactic scene of Anderson's newest film, Magnolia, recreate one of Fort's obsessions, the rain of frogs, but the film also acknowledges Fort by name at least twice: once by prominently displaying one of his books while wunderkind Stanley Spector is cramming in preparation for the next episode of "What Do Kids Know?", and once in the final acknowledgments. I've only seen Magnolia once, so I imagine there may be a few more Fortean references scattered throughout its sprawling three hours and eight minutes. And while it's still early days in the career of another wunderkind, P. T. Anderson himself, it's not too early to detect his own thematic obsession: the San Fernando Valley and the people who live there.
For those of us who live elsewhere, especially those of us who once lived in Southern California, it's hard to understand the attraction of LA. Why would anyone, least of all the rich, famous, and privileged, live in that vast expanse of suburban sprawl, mini-malls, and freeways? Anderson, himself born in Studio City (!), clearly loves the Southland. But he also seems compelled to find out why he thinks it's a special place and what it is that makes its people tick. Boogie Nights was a paean to the Valley, a love song for the beautiful and the damned. Perhaps inspired by Fort's philosophical ramblings on the beauty of the universal, Magnolia is the flipside of that film: with its overlapping structure and inwardly spiraling storytelling, it echoes both Dante and the Southern California of Chandler and Nathanael West.
Almost every character in Magnolia fulfills our stereotype of the typical Los Angelino: they're self-obsessed navel-gazers in love with the glossy veneer of the glamorous Hollywood life. Anderson isn't breaking any new ground in turning over that soil to discover the distasteful truth underneath. Magnolia is in many respects a doggedly old-fashioned, character-driven Hollywood drama; it's easy to imagine Bette Davis or Joan Crawford in the Julianne Moore role or Jimmy Stewart as John C. Reilly's befuddled policeman. What's not standard Hollywood issue is, of course, the narrative structure of the film, which begins by telling us numerous apparently unrelated stories and then weaves them into a single theme: the abuse of power, specifically by the parent over the child.
Of course, this theme could have been explored in any setting, urban, exurban, or rural. Just within the last two years we've had Affliction, Happiness, and The War Zone, all films where fathers physically and/or mentally abuse their sons and daughters. Again, Magnolia is not exactly on new ground here either. The major difference between these films and Anderson's is that Magnolia posits a much more disturbing idea: that this abuse is not limited to the aberrant few, but is a common and accepted practice throughout society. What's most puzzling about this is Anderson's apparent deep love and respect for his own father, Ernie "Ghoulardi" Anderson, the late TV horror-movie host to whom both Magnolia and Boogie Nights are dedicated. Heck, Anderson's production company is even called Ghoulardi Films. So where is Anderson's concern coming from? What is it about?
Of course, that's Anderson's business and we'll probably have to wait for his autobiography or his Ed Wood-style biopic to reveal the mysteries of Anderson's creativity. If, as I suspect, this just turned 30-year-old writer/director has fashioned Magnolia from whole cloth, then the question becomes: why? Why focus on this most distasteful of subjects if you're not the one needing the therapy, the healing, or the catharsis? This isn't subject matter that needs to be "dumbed down" in order to sell tickets, or needs to be sold to a jaded audience in search of sleazy kicks. At some point Anderson will have to address this issue.
What's even odder about Magnolia is its apparent religiosity: only John C. Reilly's police officer seems to have a father - in this case, a heavenly one - whom he can trust. The rain of frogs can also be interpreted as a recreation of an Old Testament biblical plague. The regular rain the Valley endures prior to the frogs is also suggestive of 40 days and 40 nights; as any Los Angelino knows, floods and landslides are a common wintertime danger in the Southland. Does this reflect spiritual values in Anderson, certainly not apparent in Boogie Nights, or is it merely a convenient plot device? These aspects of the film luckily don't draw a lot of attention to themselves, but they are there, and they are puzzling.
Thematic question marks aside, however, one must still admire Magnolia and marvel at Anderson's astonishing talent. While less successful than Boogie Nights, Magnolia is far more ambitious and less of an entertainment. Its ensemble cast has been deservedly lauded in almost every review of the film; particularly good are Philip Baker Hall as game show host Jimmy Gator; the aforementioned Reilly; and (of course) Philip Seymour Hoffman as the nurse attending the dying Earl Partridge, played by an apparently ailing Jason Robards, Jr. (There's a delightful moment involving pornographic magazines that hearkens back to Hoffman's character in Happiness) Jeremy Blackman makes his film debut as bookish young Stanley Spector, and his performance is as noteworthy - and as memorable - as that of Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense. In an apparent nod to his stylistic predecessor Robert Altman, there's even a delightful turn by Nashville actor and lyricist Henry Gibson as barfly Thurston Howell! In fact, there's only one major actor who comes from outside the immediate Anderson "family": Tom Cruise.
If Magnolia has one weakness other than the ethical issues that concern me, it's in Tom Cruise's characterization of motivational rape guru Frank T. J. Mackay. Unlike the personal stories of all the other characters in Magnolia, we actually get a substantial amount of background to Mackay. Starting with a television interview that is more probing than the puff piece Mackay anticipates, and ending with a scene of reconciliation with his dying father, we get too much information about this character. We are asked to believe that this malevolent man - who promotes male dominance, both sexual and social, in a secular society - would forgive the man who abandoned him as a child. Perhaps he is merely recognizing his own evil in his progenitor. Hopefully, Cruise didn't pressure Anderson into making Mackay more palatable for a mainstream audience (the people who are buying a ticket to see Cruise who don't know a Philip Hall from a Philip Hoffman). Whatever the reason, this weak scene sends Magnolia veering dangerously close to standard Hollywood psychobabble. It's by far the worst moment of the film, and unfortunately it comes close to the end.
But don't let that caveat put anyone off from seeing this audacious effort from the man who embodies the spirit of American Beauty's Ricky Fitts. At 30, Anderson is only scratching the surface of his talents. He seamlessly works in tributes to the late Stanley Kubrick; not only are we introduced to Frank Mackay to the strains of "Also Sprach Zarathustra" (most appropriate, considering Tom Cruise's worship of the late master), but we also get a group singing scene reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange, and some remarkably symmetrical setups straight out of 2001. Anderson does this without being in the least bit reverential; these tributes work perfectly in the context of Magnolia and aren't simply toss-off salutes to the Great One. Cinematographer Bob Elswit, who has lensed all of Anderson's films, focuses on the rain-soaked ambience of the Valley (yes, it does rain there sometimes) without unduly glamorizing the cookie-cutter architecture; the camera keeps coming back to a particular tire store, as if to remind us of the bland and repetitive lie of the land. And finally, Aimee Mann's music and songs are perfectly suited to the film, reflecting the bittersweet hopes and failures of Magnolia's characters.
If you like to talk about a movie after you've seen it, Magnolia is for you. If you enjoyed American Beauty, Magnolia is also for you. And if you want to see America's best young director working with a cast that rivals that of Orson Welles' Mercury Theatre, Magnolia is absolutely, positively for you. And for those of you keeping score, it's now number five on my best of 1999 list.
Friday 11/11/05
4pm Sundance
King of the Hill (1990 USA): An overlooked gem from Steven Soderbergh, King of the Hill is a Depression-era drama about a 12-year old boy forced by circumstances to get by on his own. His mother has TB and lives in a sanitarium, and economic conditions have forced his father to take to the road as a door-to-door salesman, leaving young Aaron (Jesse Bradford) to tend to the old homestead: a room in a transient hotel. This Dickensian tale was based on the autobiography of A. E. Hotchner, which provided compelling source material, and is bolstered by a nifty collection of underrated second-stringers in the cast, including Adrien Brody, Elizabeth McGovern, and Spalding Gray. Here's hoping Sundance will be airing a wide-screen print to showcase the atmospheric camera work of Elliot Davis. Also airs 11/12 at 1:45am.
8pm IFC
Afraid of the Dark (1991 GB): Afraid of the Dark is that rarest of beasts in the current gore and effects-driven market: a thriller that pulls its punches and leaves you wondering what the hell is actually going on. Though not as good as either Repulsion or Peeping Tom, Afraid of the Dark is a decent addition to the tradition of British psychological cinema. The first half of the film is essentially a fantasy seen through the eyes of a young boy (played very well by Ben Keyworth) who...oops, mustn't give too much away. The viewer only starts to get a hang on reality during the final two reels, and by the time the film ends, we can only really guess at what has actually happened, and (more importantly) why.
An outstanding supporting cast adds depth to a film that brings into question the nature of reality and explores the illusion of the camera's gaze. Also airs at 11pm and 11/12 at 3am.
Saturday 11/12/05
12:35am
Trilogy of Terror (1975 USA): The little fetish doll is back! Yes, this made-for-television anthology is burned into the brains of all of us who grew up during the 1970s, thanks to the presence of that creepy and crudely animated Zuni doll. I've completely forgotten what the other two stories are about, but I'll be tuning in this morning to get my first look in 30 years at that little critter hacking at Karen Black's ankles.
Monday 11/14/05
12:15am Turner Classic Movies
Long Lost Father (1934 USA): Here's a fascinating oddity. Long Lost Father features John Barrymore as a deadbeat dad who tries to patch things up with his daughter (Helen Chandler) when they find themselves employed at the same night club (!). What's most interesting about Long Lost Father is its director, Ernest B. Schoedsack, the co-director of the original King Kong and a filmmaker decidedly more comfortable making big-scale epics than small-scale dramas. I'd love to find out how he ended up working on this picture, which is primarily worth watching for another fine Barrymore performance.