FILM REVIEW: HEY, BOO

To Kill a Mockingbird author Harper Lee.

Once was enough

By Ed Rampell 

One of the biggest, most enduring mysteries in American literature is why didn’t Harper Lee ever write another book after the smash success of her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, To Kill a Mockingbird? Her beloved novel was adapted into a movie only about two years after Lee’s bestseller was published (in contrast, it took Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged half a century-plus to make it to the big screen), and the extremely faithful film version won three Oscars, including for Horton Foote’s screenplay. And who can ever forget Gregory Peck’s sensitive, dignified Academy Award-winning depiction of Atticus Finch, the small town attorney who defends an innocent black man in the 1930s segregated South?  

To Kill a Mockingbird captured the zeitgeist of the early 1960s’ Civil Rights movement, and catapulted the young Lee to fame and fortune. Yet she never wrote again. Why? In her documentary Hey, Boo: Harper Lee and 'To Kill a Mockingbird' writer-director Mary Murphy sets out to find out the answer to that literary enigma and more, with clips from director Robert Mulligan’s 1962 movie, archival footage, original interviews and a trip down to Lee’s hometown of Monroeville, Alabama (called Maycomb in the novel).

Alas, as has been her practice since around 1964, Lee -- who is still alive and in her eighties -- remains camera shy. However, a slew of talking heads shed light on the importance and impact of To Kill a Mockingbird, and on Lee herself. The interviewees include Oprah Winfrey, authors such as Scott Turow and Anna Quindlen, Civil Rights leader Andrew Young, musician Roseanne Cash, former newsman Tom Brokaw, etc. However, the most intriguing interviews are with friends of Harper’s and most of all, with her 99-year-old sister Alice Lee.

Although the quirky, ancient Alice -- who still practices law at Monroeville -- is difficult to understand, especially for Yankee ears, she has much to say about her little sister, their small kid days, family life, Harper’s literary process, brush with fame and why she’s never published again. Alice probably comes the closest to revealing the secret of Harper’s perplexing, troubling decision.

In my opinion, this puzzle has much to do with Monroeville’s other fabled novelist, Truman Capote, who also happens to be depicted in To Kill a Mockingbird as Dill John Megna). Capote spent part of his childhood next door to the Lee household. Indeed, while Harper stubbornly refuses to get in front of the camera, she is portrayed by Catherine Keener and Sandra Bullock in two films about Capote’s investigation of the murders he investigated for In Cold Blood, 2005’s Capote and 2006’s Infamous, respectively. Harper assisted Capote with his research in Kansas shortly before To Kill a Mockingbird was published.

Like her childhood friend, Harper relocated to New York, and Truman, who had already attained literary recognition, was helpful in getting To Kill a Mockingbird published. But according to the film, Capote later resented the fact that Harper won a Pulitzer and he didn’t. I suspect that the toll celebrityhood took on Truman and his talent played a major role in turning Harper away from the limelight. However, the experience of being lauded as a literary lioness also affected Harper’s creativity. Whether or not she did try to write another book, the success of To Kill a Mockingbird provided an annuity for her, so unlike the rest of we scribblers, Harper didn’t have to worry about trifles like, you know, earning a living and paying the rent.

Murphy’s documentary doesn’t delve into Harper’s private life. As far as we know she never married, and who knows her sexuality? Truman, of course, was gay, and Lee may have seen how being a celeb under a magnifying glass in a homophobic society adversely affected her childhood pal. Harper might have preferred not to live in a fishbowl and to retreat to the shadows. We have always thought that the tomboy Scout was supposed to be Harper, but perhaps the truth is that she has been more like the reclusive, elusive, eponymous Boo Radley (Robert Duvall’s first movie role).

In any case, this is a heartwarming, entertaining doc for lovers of literature in general, and of To Kill a Mockingbird in particular. Murphy pays the original novel and movie homage by showing how important both were to the Civil Rights movement and puts To Kill a Mockingbird into historical context -- especially as it was written by a young woman who had, once upon a time, grown up in the segregated South. Its tale of racism and injustice, amplified by Peck’s performance as the attorney Atticus who defends the wronged Tom Robinson (the moving Brock Peters), was the quintessential Civil Rights film of its day. In addition, Mary Badham’s badass portrayal of the tomboy Scout stands in stark contrast to the screen’s prim and proper Southern belles. I do declare, Murphy’s doc points out that in addition to striking a blow for equal rights for blacks, To Kill a Mockingbird also made an impact on the issue of gender equality. 

Thank you, Harper Lee.

     

 

FILM REVIEW: L'AMOUR FOU

Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé in L'Amour Fou.

Collaboration and collection

By John Esther 

When Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé first met it was in October 1957 at the funeral of couturier Christian Dior. Laurent was succeeding Dior but that did not last long. What did last long was the relationship between Laurent and Bergé. Six months after their first encounter until Laurent's death on June 1, 2008, the two collaborated and collided to wonderful, dizzying heights.

Over those years the couple amassed a formidable collection of 20th century art. Now that Laurent had passed, Bergé felt it was time to sell of the collections. 

Reminiscing through the ages late 20th century high fashion, art and the devotion they felt for each other during their time together, Bergé offers a behind-the-scenes look at the world behind all the glossy fashion magazines. 

Capturing Bergé's tale of wonder and woe, Pierre Thoretton's documentary L'Amour Fou, plays it smart and cool.

FILM REVIEW: SUMMER CHILDREN

Diana (Valora Noland) in Summer Children.

Wipe out whiteout

By Don Simpson

Vilmos Zsigmond, the master cinematographer behind such films as McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Deliverance, The Long Goodbye and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, was still a little moist behind the ears from his training at the Budapest Film Academy -- where he studied alongside Laszlo Kovacs -- when first-time director James Bruner recruited him to lens Summer Children. Bruner wanted to create an homage to the masters of Italian Neo-Realism and the French New Wave -- and Raoul Coutard was probably too busy working with the highly-prolific Jean-Luc Godard -- so he chose Zsigmond, a 35-year old devout student of European cinema. 

Together, they created a visually magnificent film that, upon completion of production, lacked the appropriate financing for post-production publicity and distribution. As a result Summer Children was placed in storage for over 40 years in several different Deluxe Laboratory Archival vaults in several states and countries. The fact that Summer Children's original producer, Jack Robinette, and restoration producer Edie Robinette-Petrachi found all of the footage still in pristine quality (even the splices were in perfect condition) showcases the archival quality of the Kodak film Plus-X Film Stock. Once the footage was in Robinette and Robinette-Petrachi's hands, they remastered the film with the assistance of Zsigmond. 

Maybe the acting, dialogue, and narrative have not withstood the testaments of time, but Zsigmond's luscious photography is still as startlingly beautiful as ever. The striking contrasts of the black and white film stock teamed with the noir-ish shadowing, shot primarily on location (including in the tight quarters of the “Mayflower," which was a 130-foot sailing schooner, and Catalina Island), Summer Children plays like an academic lecture in visual composition. Zsigmond plays with the environments of the shooting locations -- the constant motion of the water, the blowing of the wind, and the powerful rays from the sun -- to give the scenes more life and depth. One scene that truly stands out for its painterly quality is a night scene on the beach at Catalina that was actually photographed during the daytime. 

West (Stuart Anderson) is a bit of an old fashioned romantic; he is a product of the sexually conservative past and is having a difficult time adjusting to the burgeoning sexual revolution in America. West's friend, Frankie (John Kulhanek), though older, has no qualms about enjoying the promiscuity of the youth generation. 

West is taking his father's 130-foot sailing schooner out for a spin around the Pacific Ocean and he invites Frankie and a few other friends along for the ride. The friend that West wants most in this whole wide, wicked, wonderful world is the elusive but magnetically beguiling, Diana (Valora Noland). West perceives Diana to be his date for the cruise, but Diana's free spirit has other plans. We do not know why Diana is playing hard to get when West makes his first couple passes -- he is rich, handsome and obviously interested -- but eventually she gives in to his wooing and courting. Unfortunately, West is not the only guy Diana gives in to, and West's jealousy runs wild. 

Summer Children is about the naiveté of youth and the harsh real world realities that all maturing adults must eventually face. Essentially, its message is the same as that old guy sitting next to you at the local dive bar, you know the one who is always reminiscing about how wonderful life was in the 1950s. The women were simple and accommodating; they were happy to settle down with a handsome, well-to-do man like West. It was not until the absurd notion of free love -- like that ever-so-tempting apple in Eden -- that ruined romance forever. Suddenly, women were not marrying the first man to offer to put a ring on their finger; they began to think silly thoughts about not wanting to settle down or waiting for someone better. Well, I typically zone out before that creepy curmudgeon gets anywhere near this point in his diatribe and, to be honest, I also stopped paying attention to Summer Children's narrative after a while. The scene in which Diana finally gives in to Frankie is especially painful to watch. 

But I never lost interest in Zsigmond's photography. 

Summer Children will screen at the American Cinematheque in Los Angeles, May 10. Vilmos Zsigmond is scheduled to be present for a Q&A.

TCMCFF 2011: WRAP UP

A scene from a TCM Classic Film Festival after party. Photo credit: Mathieu Young. 

Old movies for new audiences

By Ed Rampell

Britain may have held its regal nuptials April 29, but thanks to the TCM Classic Film Festival (TCMCFF), that same day La-La-Land did London one better: We had that aristocrat of actors, Peter O’Toole. Although born the son of an Irish bookie at Connemara, County Galway, O’Toole has more accomplishment and majesty in his pinky than William and Kate have in their entire well-born beings -- their main talents residing in fortuitous births. Besides, in the stratified feudal totem pole of things, O’Toole portrayed King Henry II in 1964’s Becket and in 1968’s The Lion in Winter, while William is a mere prince. Furthermore, O’Toole was Oscar-nominated for both performances, and received six other Best Actor noms, while winning an Honorary Oscar in 2003. What did William ever earn? A Royal Order of the Garter or Girdle?

In any case, for misbegotten movie buffs hankering after magisterial marriages, TCMCFF presented Stanley Donen’s 1951 MGM musical, Royal Wedding, starring Fred Astaire and Jane Powell (who was in attendance) at, appropriately, one of Tinseltown’s original movie palaces, the Egyptian Theatre. Prior to this screening, at 9 a.m. the theater showed Becket, with a personal appearance by O’Toole. This was followed by an interview with O’Toole on the stage of the cozy Music Box Theater, conducted by Turner Classic Movies host and Hollywood Reporter veteran Robert Osborne.

I was in hog’s heaven for two hours, listening to O’Toole’s dulcet tones, as he discussed his life and illustrious career. During breaks in the shooting of the Q&A members of the small-ish audience were able to ask the personable Osborne questions, while O’Toole -- perched on a high director’s chair as if it was a camel’s hump -- stood (or rather sat) by. I requested that the knowledgeable interviewer inquire as to how much of the 1962 masterpiece, Lawrence of Arabia, the blacklisted-Communist Michael Wilson had actually written, but, alas, Osborne declined. O’Toole, who revealed himself to be something of a Tory during the to-be-televised tête-à-tête, may have obliquely answered the query by stating his admiration for and friendship with screenwriter Robert Bolt, who had sole credit for writing the immortal Lawrence for 16 years, until Wilson (who had likewise co-written David Lean’s other classic, 1957’s The Bridge on the River Kwai) also received long overdue screen credit from the WGA for it the year Wilson died.

The controversy-adverse Osborne also missed an opportunity to ask the actor who portrayed the famed British agent who led the WWI-era Arab revolt what he makes of the current “Arab Spring” unfolding in the Middle East and North Africa. It would have been interesting to hear O’Toole’s twopence worth. Nevertheless, basking in the presence of one of the greats and hearing that voice of the gods was nothing short of glorious for we lucky few cinephiles. And for those who didn’t have enough of O’Toole-mania, the following morning he immortalized his footprints in Sid’s cement at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.

O’Toole was not the only star of yesteryear and today to regale film fans at the Festival. Throngs lined up for Leslie Caron and Debbie Reynolds, who attended the Festival’s gala screening of, respectively, 1951’s An American in Paris at a packed 1400-plus seat Grauman’s and an Egyptian screening of 1964’s The Unsinkable Molly Brown and signed DVDs and a book, at “Club TCM,” held, appropriately, in the Roosevelt Hotel’s Blossom Room, site of the very first Oscar banquet in 1929. Only festival passholders were allowed egress to Club TCM, where a number of parties, onstage conversations and panels were held. Highlights included the preeminent African-American screen historian Donald Bogle (whose new biography is about Ethel Waters) on “Black Hollywood”; “Voice Doubles” with Marnie Nixon and others who dubbed the singing voices of stars such as Deborah Kerr in The King and I and Natalie Wood in Westside Story, plus presentations on trailers, sequels, movie choreography, etc.

Enthusiastic cinema aficionados came from far and wide to the well attended festival, with gobs of tourists combining an L.A. jaunt with a film fete. Spirits were high and there was a great ambiance of camaraderie among attendees, who all shared not only a love of movies, but of vintage films, which were projected in 35mm on the silver screen in their original formats.

Erich Von Stroheim was one of the virtuosos of the silent era, and following an introduction by that period’s peerless historian Kevin Brownlow providing the down low on Stroheim’s studio clashes of the titans with MGM suits, 1925’s The Merry Widow was screened at the Egyptian in glorious black and white. The John Gilbert-Mae Murray romance was accompanied by live music from Maud Nelissen (who apparently flew in from Holland) and the Von Stroheim Virtuosi, who serenaded the enthusiastic audience with a vibrant score. What an effervescent treat! 

On April 30 I was too late for a screening at the Chinese Multi-Plex of the long neglected, restored 1942 UK propaganda movie, Went the Day Well?, directed by Alberto Cavalcanti, suggested by a Graham Greene story. Fortunately, the well-organized TCMCFF added a second screening on the fete’s final day, so I and other buffs could see this tale of a Nazi invasion of Britain. Likewise, an additional screening of Clara Bow’s final flick, 1933’s circus-set Hoop-la, was likewise added to the schedule, so I was able to enjoy it, too. Whew!

Unable to enter the first showing of Went the Day Well? I was able to get one of the last seats of 1981’s Russian Revolution classic, Reds, in the Chinese Multi-Plex’s largest theatre. Afterwards, TCM regular Alec Baldwin interviewed director-producer-actor Warren Beatty. Oddly enough, for an epic about journalist John Reed and his struggle for free expression, there was excessive security during the Q&A, with a TCM-er warning audience members about a strict zero tolerance policy prohibiting photography and recording of any kind, upon pain of having one’s cellphone camera, et al, confiscated and ejection from the theater, as TCMCFF staffers patrolled the aisles (apparently at Beatty’s behest). This seemed pretty draconian and even hypocritical, especially given Reed’s onscreen battles with publishers and apparatchiks over his right to freedom of expression. Well, at least potential offenders weren’t threatened with deportation to the gulag archipelago.

The same night I stayed for a screening of another gargantuan epic, Federico Fellini’s 1960 La Dolce Vita, in exquisite black and white. After TCM host Ben Mankiewicz ballyhooed the digitally restored print, there was actually a snafu during the famous Anita Ekberg-Marcello Mastroianni Trevi Fountain scene, as the screen faded to black. The proverbial “technical difficulty” was resolved, the film proceeded, and as a big Fellini fan, I immensely enjoyed my first viewing of La Dolce Vita, especially on the big screen. But it was a little bit overwhelming seeing two lengthy cinema epics in one day.

However, inspired by Reds, the next morning, May 1, I marched in the May Day screening of The Devil is a Woman starring Marlene Dietrich, with a script by John Dos Passos full of prescience about the impending Spanish Civil War. What a way to close out the TCMCFF. 

The good times rolled and unspooled like a 35mm print effortlessly flowing through the sprockets of a projector at the April 28-May 1 TCM Classic Film Festival held at historic venues near Hollywood Boulevard’s celebrated Walk of Fame. I was impressed with the cinema selections, the mobs of appreciative film culture vultures, celebs, panels, etc. TCMCFF was expertly, excellently, efficiently organized.

     

   

THEATER REVIEW: TIGER TIGER BURNING BRIGHT

Clarence (Damien Burke) and Adelaide (Barika Croom) in Tiger Tiger Burning Bright.

Southern home conniving

By Ed Rampell 

Tiger Tiger Burning Bright is primarily a story of a New Orleans family full of deceitfulness as a means to exist. Not only fictions to each other, they are also lies to their own innermost selves in order to make life bearable, if not exactly livable. 

Nothing beneath the surface is at it seems for Clarence Morris (Damien Burke), who stealthily enters the stage, sneaking back home through the bedroom window, after a long night’s journey into who knows what. The eldest son has been conning Mama (Regina Randolph) for years that he’s still gainfully employed. Sister Cille (DeShawn Barnes) internalizes the familial deceptions, which causes her a form of disability. Meanwhile the simpleminded younger brother, Dan (Richard John Reliford), is infatuated with his neighbor, Adelaide Smith (Barika A. Croom), a classic cold blooded man-ipulator. 

While 1959’s Raisin in the Sun epitomizes the black family interaction play, Lorraine Hansberry’s theme of economic striving accurately reflected resurgent African-American aspirations during the Civil Rights movement. However, in Tiger Tiger Burning Bright -- set roughly during the same time period -- isn’t specifically black-themed, unlike Hansberry’s beloved northern urban drama. Randolph’s Mama may be redolent of Hattie McDaniel, Louise Beavers, Ethel Waters and Claudia McNeil’s strong, big bosomed “mammy-type” characters, but race makes only a brief appearance here.

Tiger Tiger Burning Bright’s playwright, Peter S. Feibleman, was Caucasian. His tale has far more in common playwright Tennessee Williams than Hansberry. The latter’s obsession with the “mendacity” Brick denounces to Big Daddy in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof also rings true in Mama’s Tiger Tiger Burning Bright household. While Adelaide might be reminiscent of Maggie the Cat, Cille would be right at home in The Glass Menagerie. In terms of family dynamics, one can also detect a Eugene O’Neill-type of sensibility riding this Tiger Tiger Burning Bright.

The two quibbles I have with Tiger Tiger Burning Bright’s production is the casting of Burke. There’s nothing wrong with his truthful acting, but the role requires Clarence to be an Adonis, and while Burke is pleasant enough looking, he doesn’t quite live up to the billing this role requires. It also strains credulity that the Morrises do not already know their longtime neighbors, the nerdy Dewey Chipley (Collin St. Dic), and his curious sister, Celeste (Janai Dionne), before the curtain rises. Really? Aren’t folks in Louisiana more down home than that? Well, perhaps the Morrises really are that insular, as they inhabit their make believe world full of illusion and pretense, finally transgressed by outsiders.

Chris Covics’s set skillfully evokes the Morris’ ramshackle home and environs -- clothesline, cemetery and all. The simple placement of a post serves to enhance the sense of an entry point and doorway that is essential to the action and a partially wall-less setting that requires the audience to suspend disbelief. Sam Nickens deftly directs an ensemble cast in a mostly realistic production that could be enjoyed by any aficionado of hard hitting, tense family dramas, no matter what his/her race or creed may be. 

Tiger Tiger Burning Bright runs through May 22 on the Main Stage of the Stella Adler Theatre, 6773 Hollywood Blvd., 2^nd Floor, Hollywood, CA, 90028. For more information: 323/960-7740; tickets.

AWARENESS 2011: INVISIBLE CHILDREN TONY

Tony in Invisible Children: Tony.

Invisible Children of the revolution

By John Esther 

Dedicated to "bringing awareness and opening eyes to some of our world's pressing issues; Ecological, Political, Health/Well Being and Scientific Progress" the Awareness Festival is now in its third year. 

A four day event concluding today, yesterday the Los Angeles festival screened the DVD, Invisible Children: Tony, on the big screen. 

In 2003 Americans Bobby Bailey, Larry Poole and Jason Russell, along with a camera, wound up Uganda in search of something more important in life. These 19-year-old men found it when they befriended young Ugandans like Tony, another boy victimized by Joseph Kony's Lords of Resistance Army (LRA).  

A particularly ungodly organization, the LRA has been accused of mass murder, child abduction and rape in Uganda and beyond. In order not to be forcefully recruited as child soldiers, who must kill fellow Ugandans or be killed, hundreds of children like Tony would leave their village homes and migrate to the city in order to sleep safely.

Responding to their newfound awareness, the three Americans returned to California to form Invisible Children, a group bringing awareness to the plight of Ugandans terrorized by mass murder. With a coalition consisting mostly of Ugandans plus American Invisible Children Roadies, the organization grows to such a degree it influences U.S. legislation. Then cold-blooded murder strikes Ugandans and and an American during the 2010 World Cup. 

(Beyond the horrors of the terrorist attack, politically speaking, it was tremendously stupid on the part of the LRA to make such an attack while the games were held in the country of South Africa. Westerners were actually paying attention to the African continent. An international public affairs fiasco, the attack brought negative-worldwide attention to the LRA -- who are not affiliated with al-Qaeda, despite initial ignorant coverage of the attack.)

Rather than give up, American youth was vitalized by the event. More signed up and more became dedicated to helping Ugandans live safely. There is now a movement to get quick communication devices (radio, cell phones) to remote areas so citizens can warn other citizens when the LRA is near. 

Co-directed by Poole and Russell, Invisible Children is more than just an engaging documentary that inspires action, it provides a wonderful example of what resides in some of America's best youth.

FILM REVIEW: HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN

Hobo (Rutger Hauer) in Hobo with a Shotgun.

Not taking the ride

By Don Simpson

I typically do not read reviews of films before I write my own, but in this instance I read everything about Hobo with a Shotgun that has been published to date on IMDB.com and Rotten Tomatoes and, I have to admit, I really do not understand why so many people are raving about it. And that, my friends, is why I hopped on this god forsaken “I hate Hobo with a Shotgun” bandwagon in the first place.

Hopping off a train — because that is where all hobos seem to come from -- the nameless Hobo (Rutger Hauer) finds himself in the ironically named Hope Town (the adopted moniker of ”Scum Town” seems more appropriate). Within minutes, the Hobo witnesses the über-violent antics of the cartoonish mob boss, The Drake (Brian Downey), who yanks off people’s heads, leaving their decapitated body dangling inside a manhole of a public street, all at the frightful bemusement of a public audience. Or maybe they are merely waiting for some scantily clad women to bathe in the blood? (They do not have to wait very long for that to happen.)

The Hobo also befriends a street smart, young prostitute, Abby (Molly Dunsworth), who he likes to believe is a chaste schoolteacher. The Hobo mutters some nonsensical diatribes about bears and eventually announces his intentions of doling out justice for the sake of the local townspeople. Hurray! The Hobo arms himself with his titular weapon — a shotgun purchased at a local pawn shop — and sets his sights on The Drake and The Drake’s two evil sons, Ivan (Nick Bateman) and Slick (Gregory Smith), plus The Plague. By this point, what little plot there was in the first act has dissolved into some sort of nonsensical violent lunacy.

In the film’s one moment of metaphoric thoughtfulness, a lawnmower is revealed as a symbol of suburban domestic tranquility for the Hobo, but once push comes to shove that fairytale is promptly exchanged for the shotgun. Otherwise, Hobo with a Shotgun gratuitously avoids any mental stimulation.

I do not have many favorable things to say about Hobo with a Shotgun, yet I still give writer-director Jason Eisener’s for one thing: Hauer. The casting of Hauer in this role was truly an inspired yet fleeting moment of genius. As for the supporting characters, Eisner should have just set up a bunch of cardboard cutouts of overused cinematic stereotypes and the effect would have been exactly the same. To be honest, I do not discredit the actors — my problem with the supporting characters rests in the shoddily contrived dialogue and utter lack of character development.