Hollywood behind the curtain: The Oscar (1966)

The Oscar. Paramount Pictures. Executive producer, Joseph E. Levine; producer, Clarence Greene; director, Russell Rouse; screenplay, Harlan Ellison, Russell Rouse, Clarence Greene; director of photography, Joseph Ruttenberg; music, Percy Faith; art direction, Hal Pereira. Originally released as a motion picture in 1966. Performers: Stephen Boyd, Elke Sommer, Milton Berle, Eleanor Parker, Joseph Cotten, Jill St. John, Tony Bennett, Edie Adams, Ernest Borgnine. Based on the novel by Richard Sale. Summary: the story of an actor's bitter struggle to rise to the top and win the coveted Oscar.

style ***

substance ***

Has anyone ever noticed that movies with all-star casts are never very good? Yes, we have rare gems like the eight-decades vintage Grand Hotel and Dinner at Eight, but most films with lots of big names are of the ilk of The Oscar, which is saddled with a dismayingly high-powered collection of varyingly mid-level and bonafide stars. But this is just the beginning of its myriad problems. Simply put, The Oscar is of highly dubious pedigree, specifically its falling in the decade from roughly the mid-Fifties to the mid-Sixties, which might well be described as the golden age of the kitsch masterpiece. The VIPs; Love Has Many Faces; Imitation of Life; Peyton Place; Written on the Wind; Suddenly, Last Summer; The Carpetbaggers, to cite but a few of the highest – or is it lowest? – exemplars.

The Oscar continues the tradition of the polished, pretentious but rather empty affair that's so bad it's, well, if not exactly good then immensely entertaining, mostly by virtue of the unapologetic over-the-topness. Part of the (not so) secret of success is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Or is it because it takes itself so seriously? One can never be sure in this kind of material.  

Arriving as it did in 1966 The Oscar is in one sense the last gasp of the steamy, melodramatic potboiler. And indeed it has more the flavor of early 1960s or late 1950s than Swinging Sixties. Ergo one of the film’s central agonies: it wants to be both plushy Old School romantic and no-holds-barred gritty, frank and shocking at the same time. Thus we have several scenes which feature semi-nude actresses languorously stretched out on oversized beds, parading around in skimpy nighties, or performing bland stripteases.

In any case The Oscar milks the Hollywood-at-its-naked-dirtiest clichés to the hilt, and what we’re left with is a highly uneven artistic product awash in the gaudiest of period colors, the worst offenders being those awful Sixties clothes which even Edith Head designs can’t rescue. Frequently unintentionally funny, the subtle-as-a-sledgehammer script is delivered in suitably heavy-handed fashion. There’s also Tony Bennett’s unnecessary, eminently far too frequent, narration that’s way out of place for a high gloss would-be epic like this.

The story’s principal characters fly perilously close to caricature: the rising star who’ll do anything to become a bigger star, the long suffering girlfriend(s), long suffering wife, philistine producer, sleazy private detective. To the film’s credit, the script, and resultant overheated performances, lampoon these tropes along the way.

As for the mostly excellent cast, they chew their respective roles with unrestrained glee. Boyd is perfect as the svelte pretty boy who wants the good life and even more so wants to be taken seriously as an actor. Ernest Borgnine as a repulsive private eye and Edie Adams as his frowsy wife also register a strong impression, as does Eleanor Parker, here cast as our hero’s “older woman” mentor and sometime girlfriend. She has little to do but look beautiful, which she does. Of course Peter Lawford makes an appearance (as a maitre d’) – you didn’t think a movie this bad wouldn’t have him in it? But it's Milton Berle’s nicely understated performance as the crusty agent with a core of integrity that really stands out amongst all the scenery chewing.

Despite a few virtues, then, and with no disrespect to the stunningly tacky Mommie Dearest, ultimately The Oscar may indeed be the worst ever film which purports to expose the seamy side of the movie business, Hollywood Babylon meets Sunset Boulevard, if you like [1].

And even if a viewing of The Oscar ultimately leaves a deliciously bad taste in the mouth, somehow a question lingers: was (is) Hollywood as irretrievably corrupt a place as depicted in this film, populated by clawing, desperate, nasty little people? Probably not. Even reviewers a half century ago were skeptical [2].  

[1] The film actually received two AA nominations: Best Color Costume Design and Best Color Art Direction, and perhaps this was only just.

[2] As far as I can tell The Oscar is not, alas, currently available on DVD. 

Further reading:

Erik Nelson, The Oscar: Greatest Terrible Movie of All Time, Salon, March 5, 2010.

There's No Business, Cool Cinema Trash, Feb. 18, 2008.

Mysteria (2011)

Mysteria [(DVD)]. Arramis Films presents a Mysteria LLC production in association with Gruntworks Entertainment and Omnicomm Films; written and directed by Lucius C. Kuert. [Boca Raton, Fla.]: Green Apple Entertainment, 2012. Originally released as a motion picture in 2011. Performers: Martin Landau, Danny Glover, Billy Zane, Michael Rooker, Robert Miano.
Summary: a has-been writer drafts the story of his life, and quite possibly his death. Once celebrated, Aleister Bain is now a whiskey-soaked, washed-up Hollywood screenwriter. Secluded in a sleazy hotel, he's desperately struggling to finish a script, with no success. But in this noir-esque thriller, truth is stranger than fiction and the chain-smoking Bain abruptly finds himself at the center of an investigation into the murder of a prominent politician's wife.

style ***

substance ***

Mysteria wasn’t an easy film for me to warm to, but as I got accustomed to the quirky pacing and flashback/flash forward style I liked it more and more until it became, as they say, compulsively watchable. It's difficult to categorize Mysteria: the closest to a broad brushstroke description would be neo-noir, but more specifically it's a kind of existential retro-thriller parody with lots of B movie overtones, which I suppose is a long-winded way of saying it’s neo-noir. The story takes place in a Los Angeles-like environ in a frozen, late 80s (or thereabouts) gestalt, but it's all a little vague.

To some extent Mysteria has to be catnip to fans of noir, and of course several noir films are specifically mentioned, including The Killing, the choppy, nonlinear style of which Mysteria mimics. Other films that are referenced, either by design or no, include Dead of Night, The Usual Suspects, Memento, and especially Mulholland Drive.

Mysteria is well-cast. The familiar names – Landau, Zane, and Glover – have what amount to little more than extended cameos. But it's Robert Miano's movie all the way and he's perfect for the role: he essays the confused, unkempt, unshaven, needing-a-shower, always late, always-smoking-a-cigarette hero in eminently underplayed style and somehow it works perfectly.

Mysteria pulls out just about every neo-noir trope in the book: along with the murky look and labyrinthine plot we have near-caricatures of the sleazy private eye and especially the down-on-his-luck screenwriter (is there any other kind?). Aleister Bain is a gin-swilling, chain smoking, disheveled, onetime success who lives in a low-class hotel where he can't pay his rent, and of course he has writer's block. A bright spot in his life is the beautiful blonde film student (played by Meadow Williams) who's his biggest fan and a kind of Gal Friday wannabe.

Ultimately the story leaves quite a bit unresolved, to say the least. And I like that. And as some commentators have noted Mysteria was obviously produced on a small budget, thus its mildly amateurish look and feel. But that’s not a problem for me, in fact it’s more of a strength. In any case it’s a fun movie. 

There's something about a paranoid thriller : Closed Circuit (2013)

Closed circuit [DVD]. Focus Features presents a Working Title production; screenplay by Steve Knight; produced by Tim Bevan, Eric Fellner, Chris Clark; directed by John Crowley. Universal Studios Home Entertainment, 2014. Originally released as a motion picture in 2013. Bonus feature: ‘Secrets behind the camera: Closed circuit’. Performers: Julia Stiles, Ciaran Hinds, Jim Broadbent, Eric Bana, Anne-Marie Duff, Rebecca Hall.
Summary: One morning, a busy London market is decimated by an explosion. In the manhunt that follows, only one member of the suspected terrorist cell survives: Farroukh Erdogan, who is arrested and jailed. Martin and Claudia are lawyers and ex-lovers who find themselves bound together again and put at risk after they join the defense team for an international terrorist's trial.

“There are powers at play that neither you nor I may even hope to control.”

Closed Circuit may not be a great movie, or give us a lot that’s new, but it does tell its story in a cool, competent, sometimes stylish way that makes it a very easy-to-watch, if unsettling, cinematic experience. Most of the paranoid tropes are present: terrorist incident; well-meaning, frequently menaced defense lawyers; pushy, not-so-appealing American journalist; oily bureaucrats; malevolent spy organization; clandestine meetings in parks; suspicious suicides; cover-ups; mysterious powers behind the scenes pulling the strings.

All the skullduggery is presented in a murky, hero-looking-over-his-shoulder style, and in this case the paranoia is not only topical but both tangible and mechanical. The technology put to use in our surveillance-state world and its Hitchcockian, film-world ramifications is placed front and center, specifically the camera-created world, which watches and records our every move, and the political world, which gathers data from the citizenry to be used by the politicians to “protect” said citizens. Truth be told, this aspect of the film wasn’t developed as much as one might have hoped for, but what we are given – strong performances by the principals, good production values, and the intelligent, fast-moving script – is sufficient to raise the film to the ranks of well-heeled time passer if not exactly a masterpiece.

Happily, for the writer anyway, a goodly portion of the story involved the minutiae of legal grunt work and the resultant peek into the somewhat arcane British legal system. I loved the scene where Bana and sidekick enter a room filled with piles and piles of legal briefs and other documents. But despite the weighty legal, political and philosophical issues involved, there’s not a lot in Closed Circuit’s treatment that’s particularly original. As mentioned above, we’ve seen it all before, arguably done better. To some extent CC morphs, about half way through, into a conventional suspense thriller, a pretty good one at that, even if the ending seems truncated and strained.

In short: there’s not much that’s new in Closed Circuit, but not much that’s wrong either.

style ***

substance***

The curse of the crying woman (La maldición de la Llorona)

    The curse of the crying woman / La maldición de la Llorona [DVD]. Alameda Films, CasaNegra presents a film by Rafael Baledón; screenplay by Rafael Baledón & Fernando Galiana; directed by Rafael Baledón. Panik House Entertainment; Ryko Distribution, 2006. Originally released as a motion picture in 1961. Cast: Rita Macedo, Rosita Arenas, Abel Salazar, Carlos Lopez, Moctezuma, Enrique Lucero. 

    Summary: a young woman inherits a creepy mansion from her reclusive aunt and gradually discovers its secrets, which include cursed bloodlines, mysterious murders, and supernatural magic.

style ****

substance ***

Accompanied by her husband, a naïve young woman visits her eccentric auntie, who lives in a decaying mansion. When they arrive, a scarred, clubfooted servant greets them in most menacing fashion while the auntie is nowhere to be found. As the couple settles in, creepy sounds of a wailing woman and ominous organ music can be heard in the middle of the night. Things only get worse for the visitors as the night progresses. 

If all this sounds familiar it’s, well, because it is. Curse of the Crying Woman (La Maldición de la Llorona) follows the familiar Gothic formula while throwing in a few, decidedly Mexican, twists and tricks of its own. Beautifully filmed at night and often described as the Mexican Black Sunday, the film is one of the summits of Mexican horror cinema and abounds in the genre’s trademark creepy atmospherics: hovering fog, candle lit dungeons, dilapidated castles, endless stairways, howling wolves, and lots of dead trees. In overall elegance of production I would rate it a whisker below Black Sunday, but with its own quirks and charms, which is another way of saying it’s pretty darn good.

Unrepentantly Gothic and with references not only to witchcraft but also voodoo, vampirism and lycanthropy, Crying Woman has all the genre’s requisite tropes: an inherited curse, pervasive madness, a menaced heroine, well meaning but ineffectual hero, sexy witch who is also a femme fatale, deformed servant, madman in the attic, rundown old castle, magical mirrors, dour portraits, and an intermingling of life and death, all done in a quintessentially Mexican style.

A veritable catalog of cinematic sleight-of-hand conjures up all these moods: miniatures, trick shots, lighting effects, rubber bats, foam rubber makeup, shadows, spooky sound effects, trap doors, elaborate staircases, fog machines, zooms, heavy-handed music score, rear projection and so on. Thus the striking similarity not only to the elegant Italian horror films of the era, but also the cheesy potboilers William Castle was serving us at about the same time, House on Haunted Hill in particular. But Crying Woman is a lot classier than Haunted Hill, and in its way scarier. All the more impressive that its high level of technical accomplishment was done so on a much smaller budget than its Hollywood and European counterparts.

In any case, the Mexican folktale of “La Llorona” (“The Weeping Woman”) has many variations and can be found in the local folklore of Hispanic communities from the American Southwest to the Philippines. The Curse of the Crying Woman is a very loose adaption of the original legend. In this version, the villainous Selma tries to use her niece in order to resurrect the ancient specter of La Llorona.

Selma is played by Rita Macedo, who projects a strong screen presence in the role of country estate matriarch who moonlights as a high priestess and sometimes eyeless witch. She’s supported by a fine cast of veteran Mexican actors but it’s really her show all the way. Whether playing the organ or metamorphosing into witch mode through one of her sinister trances, she oozes a malevolent sensuality that overlays a smoldering evil: seldom have we seen a witch this hot (burned at the stake or no) [1]. All in all, a marvelous, scenery chomping performance as the black magic woman.

My regard for the Mexican Horror genre grows with each new film I see, and if Curse of the Crying Woman is any representation, Mexico was a great country for Gothic cinema in the 1950s and 1960s. Though it my have some minor flaws, La Maldición de La Llorana is a quasi-masterpiece and nudges for a place in the top tier of horror films of the era.

CasaNegra’s re-mastered print looks like a million dollars and the special features include commentary by Michael Liuzza and a full color booklet, "The Legend of La Llorona" by Peter Landau. Delectably macabre and just plain beautiful to look at, Crying Woman is a must-see for fans of offbeat horror films.

[1] Barbara Steele, in the aforementioned Black Sunday is also pretty steamy. Is it just me, or does Rita Macedo bear a vague resemblance to Miss Steele? Maybe it’s all that black they wear. But for the hot witch ne plus ultra, it has to be Samantha Robinson in The Love Witch.