This post is part of the Criterion Blogathon, a six day extravaganza of all that is the Criterion Collection. Hosted by three amazing blogs Criterion Blues, Speakeasy and Silver Screenings. Get the full list of blogs participating here. And follow the action on Twitter with #CriterionBlogathon. 

Nostalgia is a powerful agent for affinity. It has the ability to make things that are simply not good seem amazing. Lost in a cloud of emotions and hazy memories, we look back on events/things without the 20/20 vision that hindsight generally affords us. Things, such as film canon of Corey Feldman and Corey Haim for example, become nostalgic treasures harkening back to a time when you didn’t have car payments, a job, and student loans for a degree you don’t even use. Seriously, don’t even get me started about Dream A Little Dream (1989). As director Richard Linklater said about the subject of nostalgia “People always want return to something they recall being pure.” (From interview with Chuck Klosterman for Criterion Collection 2006).
​Nostalgia can also make you long for the days of old. Whether or not they were actually your old days, good days, or even reality. The past tends to get simplified in our minds and therefore must be better. Media has a role to play in this. Giving us a misguided representation of was it was really like ala Leave It To Beaver. With movies, some filmmakers attempt to show us what it was like in a time period. However, period pieces don’t usually take place in a time to which the writer or director grew up. Fortunately for us, we have Dazed and Confused (1993), a film whose construction derives from the high school memories of it’s writer/director Richard Linklater. And since Dazed and Confused is essentially a stylized version of Linklater’s memories, it would only be natural that the film would flow like memory. Not in streams of linear progression, but in snippets of events or recurrences. But there is something to be said for Linklater’s memory laden film in its ability to tie to the memories of its viewers.He noted in the commentary for the Criterion disc that people would tell him that the film reminded them of their high school, which he found odd.
So what is it that links us to this film? On May 28, 1976 I was not going into highschool, or about to be a senior. I wasn’t born yet. I didn’t grow up in Texas, or even go to a high school that had a football team. Yet for some reason, I find myself attached to this film in way that is deeper than cult repetitious viewing and college stoner debating over the hipness of Martha Washington. Linklater said it best “My point was that some things never change in teenagerland..” (From “Spirit of ‘76” interviews with cast and crew, Criterion Collection 2006)
In his review of the film in 1993, Roger Ebert writes“The film is art crossed with anthropology.” I think Ebert’s assessment is right on point. When studying rites of passage, anthropologist Victor Turner theorized that the power of rituals was derived from  the drama associated with them. That rites of passage symbolically deconstructed societal norms of social life, reconstructing them through three stages; separation, liminality, and reincorporation. Turner thought that all humans share in these rites of passage in some form or another. In film we see rites of passage displayed in many forms, the most popular is the coming of age story. Dazed and Confused is not a coming of age story. But it does give us a glimpse into various teenage rites of passage we all can relate to and therein find a connection. 
For this post I will be looking at Mitch’s journey through the film. While Linklater doesn’t focus on just one character as the protagonist, let’s be honest, it’s Mitch. The progress of Mitch through the film follows the stages in a rite of passage. No, Mitch does not have a bar mitzvah or get married, but he does participate in rituals through which he is transformed.
​Now I know what you’re saying, what about Sabrina? She has to put up with the amazingly harsh, gum smackin Darla (Parker Posey). Really, did the girls really have it as bad as the guys? I would much rather participate in an “air raid” and have mustard squirted on me than be paddled with a wood shop manufactured “soul pole”. That’s literally your tax dollars being used to beat your own children. Anyway, I digress.

What attaches us to Dazed and Confused is how much the characters are relatable to some aspect of ourselves as teens. Not in the Hughesian archetypal sense “we’re all a nerd, a jock...your’s truly the breakfast club.”, but more in a way that is felt. Dazed and Confused conveys the feeling of being a teenager as we go through those rites of passage to adulthood. Whether it’s hazing, difficult decisions, or letting go of frustration. These are all things we have gone through. And this feeling can be brought back through repetitive viewings, line quoting, or hearing Tuesday’s Gone on the radio. But there lies the beauty of film, it is static, holding itself in time, be it 1976 or 1993. We can always return to that time, even if it wasn’t our time.  And that's what I love about movies, I get older and they stay the same age

If you don't own this Criterion film I would suggest you pick it up. It contains a wealth of information about the film with commentary from Richard Linklater, a booklet, and a poster. There is a free poster. How have you not purchased this already?

This post is for the The Silent Cinema Blogathon hosted by In The Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood. 

October is my favorite month of the year. Not just for the changing foliage, pumpkin lattes, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin beer, pumpkin bread, and pumpkin pie. But also for the last day of the month, Halloween. I don’t know why, but I have always loved this holiday. As a child my family did not celebrate Halloween. No passing out of candy, no going around to stranger’s houses, and certainly no scary movies. Yet I was always drawn to it, the atmosphere of it.
​
Maybe the biggest aspect of this holiday, if not for scaring people, is dressing up. What are you going to be for Halloween? is the question starts to pop up around the beginning of the month. I don’t typically dress up for Halloween, but I have friends that do it every year, even if they’re the only person dressed up. The basic premise is that you can be anything you want on Halloween. It's the one night of the year where is it not frowned upon to dress up like a vampire hooker, or a disco zombie. This raises a question, why do we love to be someone we are not?

​I think this relates, fittingly, to our fear. Our fear of who we are. Our identity. Being someone you’re not has its benefits. We all act unlike ourselves at different points in our lives, whether it’s to impress your girlfriend’s father, or to get into a club underage. But in the end you can’t escape who you are. Being your true self  is one of the biggest fears we will face as humans. And it doesn’t matter how you dress yourself up, eventually your true nature will be revealed.

The women in both films are looking for something. While Helen is looking for something outside the world she is embedded in, longing for a connection to something greater, Evelyn is searching for recognition in a field that is dominated by men. Helen is transformed by Imhotep’s words because she is connected to a past life she doesn’t remember. Evelyn’s transformation comes through her own initiative and through the actions of other major characters, primarily Rick.  ​

This post is part of the See You In The Fall Blogathon hosted by MovieMovieBlogBlog.

Physical comedy in film is a funny thing. Yes, I did just write that sentence. Please keep reading. What I am trying to say is that physical comedy works like no other form of comedy. It is easily accessible, giving it the ability to cross language barriers and age differences. This is because physical comedy is visual. No one is telling a joke, and there are no one liners. There are, in a sense, no explicit cultural standards that have be understood in order to appreciate it. This is why it works so well in film, a visual medium.  At the same time it can contain depth. It can tell us more than what it showing us on the surface of the gag.  Whether that is philosophical or ideological, it can be grounded in some deeper meaning.
Physical comedy characterized by the visual gag.  The gag is the comic effect or joke being conveyed.  In some cases the gag can span the whole film. While seemly simply in its design, the physical comedy gag is intricate in its set up.  It is this intricacy and regard for detail that made me think of Jacques Tati as a subject for a post on physical comedy.  

The films of Jacques Tati are not overtly slapstick.  His comedy is more subvert, but still within the vein of physical comedy.  I chose PlayTime (1967), because it is his tour de force, the work that took him years to complete, was a financial failure, and is considered a masterpiece today. PlayTime is one of four films featuring the character of Monsieur Hulot, played by Tati himself. Much has been sad about this film, its use of space, sound, set design, mise-en-scene, color, and movement.  What I would like to focus on are just two scenes in the film that really show Tati’s ability to use subtle physical comedy. Particularly the use of sound and space. PlayTime is a critique of modernity, its built environments, and how people are effects by those environments.  Therefore it uses those built environments  to visually tell the audience something. It is interesting to note that Tati always shot his films without sound. Inserting the soundtrack in afterwards in post production. PlayTime is very effective visually. But it is the addition of sound heightens this effect dramatically. PlayTime takes sound design to a whole other level, integrating it into every visual aspect of the film.  

Monsieur Hulot meet Monsieur Giffard, in a minute.  After we are introduced to a group of American tourists, a very important old man, and a faux Monsieur Hulot, we finally meet the real M. Hulot stepping awkwardly off a bus. We already get the sense that he is out of place. This awkwardness relating to the trappings of the modern world is nothing new to M. Hulot.  As this is demonstrated in the previous Hulot film, Mon Oncle (1958). He makes his way to an office building where he shows the porter a slip of paper.  After some finagling with a large switchboard, the porter arranges for M. Giffard to meet M. Hulot. Using forced perspective, we see M. Giffard approaching. Hulot does not. The clip clap of Giffard's shoes on the floor tell us he is near, Hulot stands and is told to sit back down by the porter, who in turn sneaks another drag from his cigar. There is a complete disassociation between what we are hearing and what we are seeing. Hulot doesn't know what the audience knows in regard to Giffard's distance from him because the sound of his shoes are telling him that M. Geffard is close. It takes a long time for Giffard to reach Hulot. This reminds me of a scene in Monty Python's Holy Grail (1975) where Lancelot is storming the castle after his horse is shot by an arrow.  The guards see him come up over the rise repeatedly.  The shot is played over ad nauseum until, bam! He's at the gate. I get the sense that Tati is attempting to give the audience the same type of feeling. How could Geffard possibly be that far away? And perhaps something deeper is being said here, that modern buildings misuse space.

M. Giffard is a busy man, as the film progresses we see how busy. So he has M. Hulot wait in a sparse, glass waiting area. It is here that Hulot encounters a reoccurring set piece, the black chair. The chairs in the waiting area have the ability to bounce back after being sat in, or pushed down. Something Hulot finds very curious, and later learns is a selling point for the chair. As he moves around the waiting area initially, the sound we hear is the outside noises of the street. Almost as if Hulot is a museum exhibit. An exhibit that no one looks at. As we move inside with Hulot the sound of the interior is static, humming. Tati desired it to sound as if it was a vault. The chairs make a funny, fart like, noise when they retake their form. Hulot finally finds a spot to sit. M. Lacs is escorted into the room and sits on the opposite side of the door from Hulot. M. Lacs is robotic in his movements, each of which have a sound effect. These sounds in turn make his almost ritualistic movements comical, giving them rhythm. We, along with Hulot, can only stare at M. Lacs.   

M. Lacs brings a one man band of sounds into this sterile soundless environment. His movements are exaggerated by the soundtrack placed on them. He is a product of the modern work space. Making sure his pants are clean, his nose is properly moisturized, and his papers are in order. Like that of M. Geffard, M. Lacs actions are exaggerated for comedic effect. The introduction of this character to the waiting area only further indicates Hulot's unfamiliarity with modernity. This misplaced feeling is apparent in the next scene I would like to discuss.  The farting chair and M. Geffard reoccur in it as well, tying the two scenes together both plot and thematic elements. 

Once Hulot finally leaves the building, unable to find M. Geffard, he gets back on a bus.  Getting off there is someone yelling his name. It is an old friend from the war, who  invites Hulot into his apartment for a drink. However the camera doesn't go with Hulot, but stays outside of the apartment. Sounds heard are that of the street outside. Much like that of the earlier scene when Hulot first enters the waiting room. The wide angle shots during this scene give us a view of the entire apartment, which has a floor to ceiling window much like that of a store front. As the camera pans both adjacent apartments come into view. They are mirror images of each other, sharing a common walls, which houses a television. This camera movement gives the viewer the ability to see what is going on in both apartments simultaneously. Tati uses this effect to bring some visual comedy into play. 
What Hulot doesn't know is that Geffard is actually in the apartment adjacent to the one he is in.  He is shown all the amenities of the apartment, the lamp with the cigarette holder hidden inside, those farting chairs, and the television. The comedy comes from the way in which Tati lets the viewer create the story. As Hulot is inside, the camera never goes inside, so we never hear a word they are saying. We are forced to make up in our minds what is happening. Meanwhile, Tati letting us in on joke as if the camera is showing something funny to the audience it noticed while being forced to wait outside for Hulot.   

While PlayTime is does not have a slapstick of a Stooges skit, it does have elements of a great physical comedy. Timing, well thought out visual gags, and depth. Because sometimes a pie in the face is more than just a pie in the face. Or as Napoleon put it "Un bon croquis vaut mieux qu'un long discours" (A good sketch is better than a long speech).

If you have not seen this film, I encourage you to check it out. It contains so much more than the two scenes I talked about in this post. Also, take a look at other films by Tati. You won't be disappointed. Want to know more about the genius of PlayTime? Check out this video essay by David Cairns done for Criterion 
https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/3351-playtime-anatomy-of-a-gag

This post is for the Lauren Bacall Blogathon, hosted by In The Good Old Days Of Classic Hollywood click here to see all of the other posts celebrating the life and work of this stunning actress. 

“You know how to whistle. You just put your lips together and blow.”  A famous line from a film.  How famous and what film, I didn’t know when I first heard it.  The film I was watching when I heard that line was Honey I Shrunk the Kids (1989).  At the time I thought it was a pretty good line.  Good dialogue is good dialogue.  But how, by whom and when it is said can change it.  Which begs the question, how much of the value of dialogue lies in the delivery of it?  A question that came to mind when watching To Have and Have Not (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946).  Could anyone else have said that dialogue as good as Lauren Bacall?  Maybe, but I am glad we didn’t have to find out.     
I didn’t know who Lauren Bacall was when I was 11 years old watching the adventures of shrunken kids, but I knew her counterpart Bogie.  He was the guy from The Maltese Falcon (1941) and Casablanca (1942), two of my favorite movies at the time.  The guy who made the 11 year old me think “man, smoking is so cool”, and wonder if my grandparents had time to do anything besides drink scotch and roll cigarettes.  Oh, and fight Nazis.       
I eventually learned that Bogie had a better half, Bacall.  They’re names roll off your tongue, as if they were meant to be said together.  This kismet is felt by not only Bogie and Bacall but by everyone else who sees them together on the screen.  But given that this is a post about Bacall, I should probably focus more on her.  I chose To Have and Have Not (1944) and The Big Sleep (1946) because they have two important people who played a role the work of Lauren Bacall, Howard Hawks and Humphrey Bogart.  

Howard Hawks directed both To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep, seemingly one right on top of the other. However, the studio held back on the release of The Big Sleep, and some changes were made to the original film. Changes that were good for Lauren Bacall, but perhaps bad for the confusing plot line of the film.  What stands out for me in both films is the use of dialogue.  That Hawks knew how to use dialogue is apparent in both films. The quintessential example of Hawks' mastery of this is His Girl Friday (1940).  It is one of the greatest dialogue-driven films ever made.  The dialogue existed on the page, but it was Hawks who insisted on overlapping it. This gave a realism to the way the characters spoke.  This realism is something that can be seen in To Have and Have Not. This is in part from the delivery of dialogue by the two main characters, but also by chemistry between them that is visible on the screen.  
Bogart was already famous when he started working on To Have and Have Not.  He took newbie Bacall under his wing, eventually he was taken under her spell.  In the film it all starts with a light.

In an attempt to capture “lightning in a bottle”, as they say, again on the screen Bogie and Bacall were paired up in The Big Sleep (1946).  The title sequence tells everyone exactly what the studio was selling, not a Raymond Chandler novel, but a Hollywood romance.  What I love about the title sequence and the end credits is the use of the cigarettes pairing together.  It is almost as if they want us to remember To Have and Have Not by placing a visual cue reminding us of it, and the actors first scene on screen together.  Or maybe I am just reading too much into a cigarette.  But unfortunately the film doesn't work as well as the first one.  
Firstly, Bacall is not given the best dialogue in this film, Bogie is.  Second, the relationship dynamic in the film is not the same as To Have and Have Not.  Although it was shot almost immediately after To Have and Have Not in 1944, release of the film  was held off until 1946.  This gave time for Hawks to re-shoot some scenes with Bacall and Bogie that were not as good as they could be.  While this helped ultimately with Bacall's appearance on screen, some of the plot of the film was lost.  
Though she doesn't have the lines she had in To Have and Have Not, Bacall is still able to hold her own in scenes with him.  There is still some air of chemistry between the two present on the screen.  

"How'd you happen to pick out this place?"
"Maybe I wanted to hold your hand"
"Oh, that can be arranged."

Again the tension is high.  Both characters don't seem to like each other but can't help the fact that maybe they are falling for each other.  

Driving back from Eddie Mars' casino.  

"Remember I told you I was beginning to like another one of the Sternwoods?"
"I wish you'd show it."
"That should be awful easy." (He kisses her)
"I liked that. I'd like more. (They kiss a second time) That's even better."
"All right, now that's settled. What's Eddie Mars got on you?"
"So that's the way..."

This dialogue mimics the kissing scene in To Have and Have Not down to Bacall's assessment of the second kiss.  Much like that of the first scene, her words linger in an exhalation of approval.  Unlike the previous film, it is Marlowe who puts an end to the fun and games.    

In both To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep Lauren Bacall gives us enduring lines of dialogue delivered to us in a way no other actress could have done.   

“I'm nobody's friend. The man with no place.”   -Lucky Gagin

This post is for the 1947 Blogathon hosted by Shadows and Satin  and Speakeasy.  Check out both of their pages for a recap of this blogathon and all the posts regarding this amazing year in film!

Carousels are interesting.  While I am not a fan of roller coasters, I get them.  Carousels I do not.  Granted I am no longer a child, the main customer of the carousel.   What is interesting to me about the carousel is that you can be simultaneously moving yet stationary.  Moving around a fixed point, you eventually come back to the point where you began.  Unless of course you’re riding with Mary Poppins.  Riding a carousel can also give the illusion that you are stationary and that those outside of the carousel are moving.  It is only when ou reach your starting point that you regain your bearings.
Many things in life, such as karma, are said to have a spherical effect.  “What goes around, comes around” is a phrase we say to others when trying bestow the karmic effects of their poor decisions. This usually relates to revenge.  That those who have wronged us in some way will inevitably get theirs.  Be it through our doing, fate, or the universe’s.  And that balance will somehow be restored.  For the most part, we want this to be from our own doing.  The best revenge in living well, as I have often been told.  And in Ride the Pink Horse (1947), Lucky Gagin is trying to do just that.              
In 1947, two years after World War II, Robert Montgomery directed and starred in two films; Lady in the Lake and Ride the Pink Horse.  Having stepped behind the camera for the first time with Lady in the Lake, giving the audience a film almost entirely shot in first person POV.  He now turned the camera back around and on himself in Ride the Pink Horse.  Released in October of 1947, Ride the Pink Horse  is somewhat lesser known than Lady.  But it stands out as one of the best noir films of that year.  A year that gave us, Out of the Past, Lady from Shanghai, and Nightmare Alley.  With it long takes, inventive camera angles, unusual staging, atypical settings and dramatic acting Ride the Pink Horse has a unique look within the noir canon.
The film begins as the camera following a bus in what could be a commercial for Greyhound, talk about product placement.  The bus pulls in the the station at San Pablo.  Among those departing the bus is Lucky Gagin.  He makes his way into the station, past natives selling trinkets, to a seat in the terminal.  He pulls out a  gun and a check.  Two forms of paying someone back.  He takes the check and tosses it into a locker.  Then gets some gum, chews it, and uses it to stick the locker key to the back of a large map situated in the terminal.  His movements are slow.  The camera mimics his movements, with its slow tracking of him from the bus to his exit with no cuts.  

Ride the Pink Horse gives us a view of a changing American landscape outside of the city.  It is about alienation, revenge, and the circular nature of life.   So are we on a fixed pattern or are we free? I will leave that up to you to decide.  But the only way to find out is to get on the carousel.  But you can choose the color of your horse.  

I watched the Criterion Blu-Ray of this film.  Check it out here.  Also, check out the book and others written by Hughes.