The One That Started It All

Some 20 years ago (long before it was in the public eye thanks to Dancing With the Stars), a young Australian director made his feature film debut with a comedy set within the world of competitive ballroom dancing. Baz Luhrmann's Strictly Ballroom actually began life as a stage show when he was a student at the National Institute of Dramatic Art in Australia and is, perhaps, his most personal. Baz's mother was a ballroom dancing instructor and Baz himself took lessons as a child. The lead character of Scott Hastings, the rebellious dancer that is tired of dancing by the rules and just wants to do his own brand of "flashy" moves, is very much a stand-in for Baz as a filmmaker. His own "flashy" style has since become his trademark. But the groundwork for all his future films can be found in that first film.

The Red Curtain Opening

It's fitting that the first film in his Red Curtain Trilogy would also begin with the shot of a red curtain rising. The theatricality of the films is presented right off the bat to make the audience aware that things are heightened–this isn't a kitchen sink drama. R+J, which has more of an MTV style starts off with its own version of a curtain rising: a television set being turned on.

A Spinster Cinderella Story

What is about vacationing in another country that makes you feel that anything could happen? There's an air of mysterious possibility and uncertainty. Perhaps the idea that you are far away from home, far  from anyone who knows who you are, gives you the opportunity to start anew. You can shed your past,  take advantage of the present, and become the person you've always wanted to be. This promise of escape and spirit of unknown adventure is perfectly captured in David Lean's 1955 film, Summertime. Set in Venice and filmed entirely on location (the Venetian authorities worried that filming during its peak tourist season would cut into revenue, so Lean and the studio donated a large sum of money toward the restoration of St. Mark's Basilica), the film stars four-time Best Actress Oscar winner (one of her 12 nominations came from this movie), Katharine Hepburn, as American Jane Hudson. An unmarried, middle-aged, elementary school secretary from Ohio, she has saved up for years to come to Venice to experience a dream vacation. Her Summer Holiday in the romantic Italian city is the subject of this week's Hit Me With Your Best Shot from Nathaniel at The Film Experience.

Jane arrives in the city, with her camera in hand, eager for excitement. Her life back home in America, while not unpleasant, is certainly not the one she envisioned. She is determined to make the most of Venice ("Like it? I've got to! I've come such a long way..."). And the way Lean's camera lingers over shots of the city– letting us soak it all in, willing us to fall in love with it–we, like Jane, can't help but see the beauty of the place. Tourism in the city doubled after the film was released. Lean himself was so enchanted with the city that he made it his second home. I mean, just look at the view from Jane's window in the hotel she's staying:

She is so moved by it, that she tells the hotel proprietress, "Grazie...For THIS" as she extends her hand over the whole of the city. So much of the film is sunlit shots of gorgeous Venetian sites that the city becomes a character unto itself. Any one of them a picture postcard for best shot. But the shot I've chosen isn't one of the city itself, but one that represents all that the city promised for Jane–a wish come true. Just maybe not the way she imagined.

Among the most gorgeous cities in the world, she soon finds herself feeling alone. Even the most beautiful of places can become lonely without someone to share in your happiness. Hepburn does a wonderful job of conveying Jane's loneliness. Depression can come across as dull on screen or worse, self-pitying (I'm looking at you Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love), but we never feel that Jane feels sorry for herself. Hepburn still gives her a spark that hope is not lost, it's just tinged with a bit of disappointment. 

She soon meets a handsome Italian shopkeeper who starts to take an interest in her. Reluctant at first (you can sense that Jane has been hurt by love before), she resists his advances. But soon finds herself thinking of him and the two begin to spend time together. It rejuvenates Jane who finds herself wandering the city without her camera and getting make-overs! (I do love in the make-over scene that we see her getting her hair done, but it ends up looking exactly as it did before. A part of her still can't let go...) She soon faces reality when she discovers that the man is married with children. He tells her that he is separated and after a verbal brawl, she discovers that the connection is too strong to give him up completely. She knows it can't last, but is willing to live for the moment and give into a passion she might not normally have surrendered to. As she gives in to his advances, fireworks light up the sky and she drops a single shoe on the balcony. It becomes a symbol of her fairy tale. Like Cinderella, the magic might all end at midnight, but right now she is apart of it. It won't end in happily ever after, but the memory of the moment will last her a lifetime:

A Wardrobe Fit for a Courtesan

Much of the success of Baz Luhrmann's career as a director is greatly helped by the worlds he creates with his longtime collaborator (and wife), Catherine Martin or CM. CM has been there since the beginning for every film (even before she got married to him). She worked as Production Designer on Strictly Ballroom and Romeo + Juliet (receiving an Oscar nom for R + J), Costume Designer and Production Designer on Australia (the film's sole Oscar nomination was for her costumes), and of the 8 Oscar Nominations given to Moulin Rouge!, CM's work on the film brought it both of its wins (Art Direction, shared with Brigitte Broch and Costume Design, shared with Angus Strathie). Whatever the reception awaiting Gatsby, it's almost assured nominations for CM's costumes and production design. Baz's films are known for their glitz and decadence and CM never fails to provide it.

In honor of the Oscar winning designs for Moulin Rouge! (and to continue along with Baz Luhrmann week here at the blog), I'm taking a look at the iconic costumes of Nicole Kidman's courtesan, Satine. The team looked to past screen legends (such as Marilyn Monroe, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, and Rita Hayworth) as inspiration for Satine's look. Remembering that the clothes had to work as costumes and not authentic representations of 1899 Parisian Couture, they decided to use materials and fabrics available at the time but to use them in unconventional ways. It's no wonder that Movie Stars of yesteryears influenced the character of Satine because Nicole's star turn (helped in large part by her extraordinary wardrobe) has already taken its place alongside those Hollywood greats.

Screen Test

Before anything even gets finalized for the final film, screen tests are made of how the character will look. The second image actually found it's way into the movie. It's the first shot we see of Satine when Christian (Ewan McGregor) tells us in the prologue about the woman he loved. Corsets and top hats made it into other designs, but the cigarette holder didn't. It'll just have to remain synonymous with Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly.

Epically Epic: Australia

G'day, mates! Last year, I did a live blog of Titanic– which was to be the start of a monthly series called Epically Epic in which I explored those sweeping films in which a 2 hour story just can't be contained! Well, yada yada yada, I'm actually starting it again! And tonight's film, in honor of Baz Luhrmann week here at the blog, is the Aussie director's 4th feature film starring a sheila named Nicole Kidman and handsome bloke by the name of Hugh Jackman. Tie your kangaroos down, sports, cause this is Australia. 

After the success of Luhrmann's 3 previous films, known as The Red Curtain Trilogy, his next plan of action was to be what he referred to as his Epic Trilogy. Which, after the lack-luster box office of this film, kinda put an end to those plans. (Although, according to Wikipedia, it's the 2nd highest grossing Australian movie, ever! What's number one, you ask: Crocodile Dundee.) It was kinda cursed from the beginning. The trilogy was to start with an epic telling of real-life world-conquerer (and ancient-times homosexual) Alexander the Great. Baz had cast Leonardo DiCaprio as Alexander and Nicole Kidman was set to play his mother, Olympias. While working on the script and scouting locations, another Alexander the great film was already moving ahead. Oliver Stone released his own version, Alexander (creative title. That could be anyone) in 2004 with Colin Farrell in a really bad blonde-dye job. The film was a bomb and Baz decided not to move forward with his intended film. The other two films planned in The Epic Trilogy were a Russian set film and one set in his homeland of Australia. Guess which one got made! But, not without it's difficulties.

This will only be my second time watching the film after seeing it in the theater the day it came out in November of 2008. I did a double feature that evening because Milk had also come out on the same day–it was a long night at the movies. I'm curious to see it again. Last year when I did Titanic, I knew the film so well already. We'll see how this goes when I'm not as familiar with the film. But enough chit-chat–let's head Down Under...

Shakespeare On Screen: Romeo + Juliet

Guys, I am just beyond excited for Baz Luhrmann's take on The Great Gatsby hitting theatres (in 3D?–oh, I mean, in 3D!!!!!!!! But still, a little bit of a question mark) this Friday! It even made my list of most anticipated films of the summer. So, in honor of Baz's latest, I'm taking a look back at his previous films all this week. That's right everyone. It's Baz Luhrmann week here at The Film's the Thing! Tonight is a look at his second film, the modern day retelling of Shakespeare's tale of star-crossed lovers played by Gatsby himself, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Homeland's Claire Danes (The world's best chin-quivering crier!) This is also the start of a monthly series I hope to do called Shakespeare on Screen. So, let's dive right in–literally–as we take a closer look at Baz's version of the most famous scene from one of Shakespeare's most produced works: The Balcony Pool Scene.

I have to admit, I was not the biggest fan of this movie when it was released back in 1996. I was a precocious teenager (some may say pretentious) when it came to theatre, film, and Shakespeare in general. Growing up in Omaha, my parents used to take us to see the free Shakespeare on the Green every summer. We were studying his work in high school, I felt like it was a subject that I was beginning to have some understanding of. And after seeing a production of Taming of the Shrew set in the Wild West, I had decided I was a purest in regard to the Bard's work and the context in which it was presented. The fact that Baz Luhrmann had set Romeo and Juliet in the present day, with guns and hawaiian shirts was too much for me. But, the thing that did me in at the time was that instead of Juliet wondering where for art her Romeo was from her balcony window, she was flailing about...in a swimming pool! Blasphemous!

As the years have passed, I definitely become more lenient in my Shakespeare adaptions. After all, what would be the point of the same interpretation? The works of Shakespeare have endured for hundreds of years for a reason. They are still being performed because they still have something to say and each new generations finds a new way to present it. What Baz did with his take was to make it relevant to a younger audience that wouldn't be interested in Shakespeare otherwise. With his trademark quick cuts and CM's neon-tinged art direction, he made it seem fresh and new and not some museum piece that would put people to sleep.

But, getting back to the pool scene, it does still feel a little bit like a gimmick. So much about the way he changed the play to fit the world of his film–the prologue being read by a newscaster on the nightly news, the guns having the brand name Sword–works for me. But, putting the two of them in a pool feels like he was trying to do something different just for the sake of doing it. After all, balconies still exist in the modern world.

At the start of the scene, after Romeo has climbed the garden wall, he sees a silhouette at the window of a, yep, balcony. But instead of giving us the traditional setting, Baz winkingly plays with our expectations by making the silhouette at the balcony not belong to Juliet, but to her Nurse (played by British actress, Miriam Margolyes. I didn't even realize it was her until this recent viewing! I thought it was actually a Latina actress. Range!). This bit of comedy, while funny, doesn't set the right tone for the rest of the scene. It's a little like Baz is biting his thumb at us, saying I know what you want and you're not gonna get it.

The reason the balcony exists is to give a barrier between our two lovers otherwise they would just have at each other and there would be no tension, no drama, and nowhere for the story to go. On the commentary of the film, Baz said that the water in the pool, was supposed to create that barrier. But, there's little resistance in a pool and after he said that I noticed that the two made-out and clung to each other for an awfully long time. That water didn't seem to be bothering them at all. Also, how would a pool prevent them from having sex? If reality dating shows have taught us anything, it's that once two people get into a body of water, all beats are off!

Once they're in the pool, the sound of the water and the actors' breathlessness at trying to keep afloat hinders what should always be the essential of any Shakespeare production, regardless of the setting: the text. In casting two young Americans who had virtually no prior experience with Shakespeare, they already had their work cut out for them. But he seems to be doing them a disservice by putting extra obstacles in their way. Although both game, sometimes the text does get away from the actors and the words sound a little jarring coming from such flat, nasally voices. Danes fairs better than DiCaprio in this scene and I love the flirtatious way she delivers the line, "Nor any other part belonging to a man."
Of the few scenes that Romeo and Juliet actually share together, this is the only one in the film that relies heavily on the text. Most of the others are more visual and I find their initial meeting at the Ball to be more romantic then this scene. But the two have chemistry and their youthful energy makes up for a lot. And to an entire generation, the balcony scene will always be associated with the two floating about in a pool.

The Dame of Noir

There's a lingo in film noir that's distinctly all its own. But, if someone asked you the definition of femme fatale, the answer is quite simple: Barbara Stanwyck in Double Indemnity. She's a doll, a dame (and I'm not talkin' Judi Dench or that Downton broad–that's the straight skinny!), a regular tomato. She's the sort of babe that will make a man kill for her. At the time of its release, Stanwyck was the highest paid actress in Hollywood and she received her third (out of a career total of four) Best Actress Oscar nomination for the film. Her performance and the film as a whole –one the greatest in the film noir genre – is the subject of this week's edition of Hit Me With Your Best Shot courtesy of Nathaniel at The Film Experience.

Double Indemnity was based on a novella of the same name by James M. Cain (no stranger to this line of work as his previous novel, The Postman Always Rings Twice, can attest. Apparently Hollywood liked him in the genre so much that they later turned his novel Mildred Pierce into noir as well–despite not being written that way in the book) and adapted for the screen by the director, Billy Wilder, and writer Raymond Chandler. Chandler created the Philip Marlowe detective (played by Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep) and, along with Cain and Dashiell Hammett, considered the founders of the detective/crime novel. It's thanks to these here wise heads that we got some of the most amazing dialogue to ever come out of an actor's trap. 

Take for instance this exchange at the first meeting between Stanwyck's Phyllis Dietrichson and Fred MacMurray (the guy that invented Flubber! I know! Who knew?) as the insurance salesman, Walter Neff. Neff has come to the Dietrichson house to have Mr. Dietrichson renew his insurance policy, but gets more than he bargained for...

Phyllis: Mr. Neff, why don't you drop by tomorrow evening about 8:30. He'll be in then.

Neff: Who?

Phyllis: My Husband. You were anxious to talk to him, weren't you?

Neff: Yeah, I was. But, I'm sorta getting over the idea, if you know what I mean. 

Phyllis: There's a speed limit in this state, Mr. Neff. 45 miles an hour.

Neff: How fast was I going, Officer?

Phyllis: I'd say around 90.

Neff: Suppose you get down off your motorcycle and give me a ticket.

Phyllis: Suppose I let you off with a warning this time.

Neff: Suppose it doesn't take.

Phyllis: Suppose I have to whack you over the knuckles.

Neff: Suppose I bust out crying and put my head on your shoulder.

Phyllis: Suppose you try putting it on my husband's shoulder.

Neff: That tears it...

Genius. It just comes so fast and furious. Their responses are right on top of each other, but at the same time you can tell they're still listening to each other. And even though it's full of smart little quips, the intelligence of the two actors and their characters still make the stylized exchange believable. But, it really was of its time and definitely a style. I'm sure Regular Joe's weren't able to come up with stuff this quickly in real life, but that's what elevates it. If only Hollywood screenwriters today would try to write dialogue this sharp. Although, I shudder to think what it would sound like coming out of the mouths of Justin Timberlake and Jessica Alba.

With such brilliant words and performances, the visuals have to fall flat than, right? Whatya talk! Didn't you hear that this here is Hit Me With Your Best Shot. And kablamo-here's mine.

 Phyllis, in an unhappy marriage, has convinced Neff to take out accident insurance on her husband without him knowing it. There's a double indemnity clause which gives the beneficiary twice the amount of insurance money if the death is accidental. Only, the two murder her husband and make it look like an accident so they can collect the money. But, the plot doesn't exactly go as smoothly as intended and is actually driving the two apart and the claim is being rejected. The two haven't seen each other in weeks (and Neff has been seeing her stepdaughter in the meantime), but finally meet at the grocery store where they first finalized the murder plot. Neff wants to give up, but Phyllis–Lady Macbeth in the canned food aisle–taking off her cat-eye sunglasses reveals her stone-cold stare, chillingly tells him how it's going down:

Phyllis: I loved you, Walter, and I hated him. But, I wasn't gonna do anything about it, not til I met

         you. You planned the whole thing. I only wanted him dead.

Neff: I'm the one who fixed it so we was dead. Is that what you're telling me?

Phyllis: And nobody's pulling out. We went into this together–We're coming out at the end together.

         It's straight down the line for both of us. Remember...

If only the other shoppers knew the messy bit of business going on in Aisle 3. 

The mundane setting is  wonderfully juxtaposed with the far-from-normal discussion they're having. As is Phyllis, herself, with her perfectly styled peroxide hair and designer glasses, amid the everyday food items. They go here to be inconspicuous, but who would ever buy that this woman has ever gone grocery shopping a day in her life? 

What I love about Stanwyck's performance in this shot is all the power she can convey with doing almost nothing. Typically the norm would have been for her to get melodramatic (one need only look to the actress playing her stepdaughter to see an example). But everything about her Phyllis is calculated, with an economy of movement . Every move she makes is for a purpose. She's not even going to blink (I actually don't think she blinks the whole film) because any good femme fatale knows that when you stare a man down, you can get him to do anything...

Blind Spot: The General

There's a theory among cinephiles that when it comes to the comedians of the silent film era, you fall into one of two categories: You're either a fan of Charlie Chaplin and his "Little Tramp" character or a fan of Buster Keaton–"The Great Stone Face". Having never seen a film from either of them, I could never accurately make an educated opinion on the matter. But, having finally caught up with Buster Keaton's The General–what some consider to be the greatest silent film ever made–I guess I'm gonna have to declare myself a Chaplin fan, sight unseen. Because the truth is, well, here goes: I didn't care for The General.

I'll be the first to admit that my education and knowledge of silent film extends to only a handful of pictures, but the thing is, I really enjoyed those other films (Metropolis, Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, and The Passion of Joan of Arc). So, it's not that I'm against silent films as a whole. Nor do I think the label of "Greatest Silent Film...EVER!" was making my expectations impossibly high. After all, Citizen Kane is considered by most to be the "Greatest Film Ever. Period" and it more than lived up to whatever baggage can come with such a lofty title. (And, believe me, I was prepared to be disappointed. But, damned if it doesn't live up to its hype.)

At the time of its release in December 1926, The General was actually considered a flop. So much so, that it cost Buster Keaton the freedom he had as a filmmaker and he was forced to enter a contract with MGM that severely restricted his control. It wasn't until recently that its status has grown to be included among the greats. But, I'm gonna have to take the side of the critics from the 20s who found the film to be tedious and, worst of all, just not funny.

Set in the South at the start of the Civil War, Buster Keaton plays Johnnie Gray a train engineer who has two loves in his life, his engine–The General–and his girl, Annabelle Lee. After the firing on Fort Sumnter, Annabelle's father and brother go to enlist in the army. Johnnie, wanting to impress his lady, goes as well, but is dismissed. They believe he'll be better for the cause in the position he's already in. Annabelle tells him she doesn't want to see him again until he's in uniform. A distraught Johnnie sits on the rod of the engine's wheels and, in the most iconic moment of the film, he begins to move up and down with the rod as the train pulls out of the station.

If you know anything about this film, you know about this scene. But, it was over so quickly that it barely had time to register as a moment. Just when the train begins to pick up momentum, it enters into a tunnel and we lose sight of Keaton. I understand how dangerous it is to sit on a moving train the way he did, I just wish it had been just slightly longer.

A year has passed. Annabelle takes The General to visit her wounded father, but little does she know that the Northern army intends to hijack the train from Johnnie when the passengers are at dinner so that they can take it back North and destroy the track and bridges along the way. Unfortunately, she's in the train at the time and taken hostage.

Johnnie sets about trying to get his train back first by foot, then by bicycle, and then finally takes another train to pursue them. An almost 20 minute "chase scene" ensues involving one train right behind the other. On a track. I gotta say, nothing could be more exhilarating than two slow moving trains in hot pursuit.

There's plenty of business to fill the time. Including a bit with a canon, that's not particularly funny if you've seen a Looney Tunes cartoon. (Come to think of it, I never found it funny in the cartoons either.) But, it all just starts to seems like business. And in another daring stunt, Keaton sits on the front of the train and deflects falling railroad tracks. I have to admit, it's pretty impressive when he's able to knock them out of the way of the track, but it's bit that falls flat comedically. Is it supposed to be funny or are we just supposed to applaud this feat of daring do?

After rescuing Annabelle and overhearing about a plot to invade and take the Southern troops by surprise, we now get a second train chase that's also over 20 minutes long. This time the Yankees are in pursuit of Johnnie, who has taken back The General. Have I mentioned that the film is only about an hour and 15 minutes long. The entire length of the film is practically made up of train chase sequences. Once the second one started, that's when I started getting an incredible felling of deja vu and my mind began to wander.

Keaton's comedy is known for two trademarks: his incredible stunt work in which he literally risks life and limb. The other, his stoic reaction to things at a time when the norm in silent films was to be over the top–especially in comedy.

The film is filled with dangerous stunt work. In addition to the feats mentioned before, he flings himself about the moving train and runs across the roof with such abandon, it's amazing he made it through filming alive. But how is almost killing yourself for comedy worth it? Especially when the stunts aren't exactly funny, but more a test of endurance.

A classic example of his stoicism, occurs at the end of the film when he's made a lieutenant. Trying to kiss Annabelle, he is constantly interrupted by soldiers saluting him–a higher ranking officer. When an entire troop passes by, he calmly turns and blindly starts to salute as he finally gets the kiss he's after. It's actually one of the funnier scenes in the film. But instead of laughing out loud (which I never did the entire film), you find yourself thinking it's funny instead of actually finding it funny. And that is ultimately the disconnect for me regarding Keaton and the film. There is much to admire. All the elements are there. But, in the end, the admiration isn't enough. You don't want to think something is funny–you want to actually let loose with a laugh of approval.

This post is apart of Ryan McNeil's Blind Spot Series at The Matinee. On the last Tuesday of ever month you watch and write about a movie that is considered important in the cinema lexicon, but that you've somehow missed along the way.