1976 - Rocky

I have recently begun work as an usher for an off-Broadway theatre that happens to be in the same building as the rehearsal studios used by some of Broadway's major shows, so it's now time for the second instalment of "Famous People Matt Has Bumped Into". Although, this will certainly be briefer than the previous episode.

The elevator is the main location of action. I have shared it once with Bebe Neuwirth (in New York rehearsing the new musical adaptation of The Addams Family) and a second time with Julia Stiles (rehearsing David Mamet's Oleanna). I also spied Nathan Lane entering the building, complete with Gomez Addams moustache.

On the one hand, all these celebrity encounters are a little disheartening, certainly humbling. There's a definite impatience in watching actors going to work as I show theatre-goers to their seats. But on the other hand, it is fun to rub shoulders with the rich and famous. However misguided, it still makes me feel closer to the action.

As does this absurd project I'm working on. Absurd but inspiring. And yesterday, I watched one of the more inspiring entries, a nominee from 1976...

Rocky

Director:

John G. Avildsen

Screenplay:

Sylvester Stallone

Starring:

Sylvester Stallone, Talia Shire, Burt Young, Carl Weathers, Burgess Meredith

Academy Awards:

10 nominations

3 wins, including Best Picture and Best Director

The film that spawned a thousand sequels, Rocky just exudes inspiration. From the moment, the opening credits begin - no, from the moment the DVD menu begins - Bill Conti's familiar theme song sets the mood perfectly. In fact, you should listen to it while you read this. Trust me, it'll make you feel good.

Rocky Balboa is a no-name boxer from Philadelphia, earning extra cash by attempting to be a thug for a loan shark. But since he doesn't want to break people's thumbs, he has about as much success as a heavy as he does as a boxer, which is to say not a lot. His only friend is Paulie, a meat packer with some serious anger management issues. And he's sweet on Paulie's sister, Adrian, an extremely shy assistant at a pet shop store. Meanwhile, the current and undefeated heavyweight champ, Apollo Creed, is left without an opponent for his next big fight, so he decides to give an unknown a shot at the title. Lo and behold, Rocky is the chosen one and he now has a chance to prove that he's not the bum he and everyone else thinks he is.

Without a doubt, this movie is best described as an inspirational story. It's feel-good at its feel-best. And that famous music you're listening to (you are listening to it, right?) is a big part of that, even if it slips into some cheesy disco territory at times. It is the 1970s, after all. The film becomes a tad melodramatic on occasion, but for the most part, it's very gritty in its naturalism, depicting the hard times of its characters' lives.

One thing that becomes very clear when watching Rocky is just how ridiculous a sport boxing really is, especially during the final fight scene. It literally just boils down to two men trying their best to cause as much pain as possible in each other. I understand there's probably some strategy involved, but nonetheless, when you get punched in the face, it hurts. Anyway, in spite of this, the film's concluding moments are actually very emotional. We've invested so much in Rocky's transformation by this point, we've watched him train, we've seen him drink raw eggs, that it's hard not to get behind the underdog. And it's not even about winning. He just wants to be a respectable opponent. And we want it for him.

I should also acknowledge the similarities between Rocky's story and Sylvester Stallone's own story in getting the film made. Sly wrote the script as well as starring as the Italian Stallion, but that may not have been the case. Had he not refused to sell his script without being assured the lead, we may have seen Robert Redford or James Caan in the title role. He stuck to his guns, though. and found the producers who would buy the story with him as Rocky and the rest is history.

And Stallone is very good as the mumbling yet talkative pugilist. As are the rest of the main cast. Burt Young is explosive as Paulie, who surely breaks a few health department rules by allowing Rocky to use the cow carcasses in the freezer for sparring practice. Talia Shire is touching as the meek love interest. And Burgess Meredith, appearing again in my project after the last round's Of Mice and Men from 1939, is great as Rocky's grouchy trainer. All four garnered Oscar nominations for their performances.

1976 - Bound for Glory

It's September and that means it's the beginning of the new TV season here in the States, which makes me very excited. Not that I need any more things to add to my viewing queue, but there definitely seems to have been somewhat of a renaissance as far as television shows are concerned. Television is the new film, as some pundits say. And I can certainly see why they say that. The new crop of cable shows (and even some network shows) that have popped up in the last few years leave some of those mind-numbing formulaic shows of previous decades in the dust. I'm not really sure when it began. It may have been The Sopranos, which is over ten years ago. But now, you have similar gritty fare, like Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Dexter, Damages. Or no-holds-barred satires, like Weeds, Californication, Entourage. Even some of the traditionally formulaic ones are becoming more intelligent, like House and The Mentalist.

Hmm, not much more to add to that, really. Maybe that was just an excuse to list my favourite TV shows, all of them worth a peek if you haven't already seen them.

Today, I sat down to watch the first of the nominees from 1976...

Bound for Glory

Director:

Hal Ashby

Screenplay:

Robert Getchell

(based on the autobiography by Woody Guthrie)

Starring:

David Carradine, Ronny Cox, Melinda Dillon, Gail Strickland, Randy Quaid

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

2 wins

If you're as ill-informed about country folk singer Woody Guthrie as I was, Bound for Glory is a pretty good introduction. You've probably heard of "This Land Is Your Land". That's one of his. And although that song isn't quite the definitive representation of his music, it does give you a decent indication of his social activist bent.

Woodrow Wilson Guthrie lives in the heart of the Dust Bowl in Depression-era Texas. Not able to make enough money painting signs, he makes the trek to California, where, rumour has it, anyone can find a job. It's a long and arduous journey, but once he gets there, he's disillusioned to find it's slim pickings, worse even than back home. Scores of out-of-work men scramble for a few poorly-paid positions harvesting crops, a situation that just don't seem right to his idealistic mind. In spite of the tough times, Woody always has a song to sing. Literally. Wherever there's a guitar or a piano, he'll entertain those folk who'll listen. Eventually, a friend introduces him to a radio producer who puts him on the air, beginning his music career. However, he never stops trying to promote the cause of the struggling working class, defying his sponsor-placating producers. He also makes trouble on work sites by performing free for the workers, inciting them to unionise.

As biopics go, Bound for Glory is a fairly successful one. It certainly paints a clear picture of its subject, a complicated man despite his country bumpkin demeanour. But perhaps it's too successful at depicting the slow and tedious atmosphere of the Depression. Pampa, Texas, where the film begins, is a slow town and director Hal Ashby does a wonderful job of making the audience feel that, for the film itself begins very slowly. The journey to California is the most interesting part of the story, in my opinion. Full of fascinating characters in a string of vignettes, this section of the film combines adventure and suspense beautifully. However, when he finally arrives in California, the whole thing slows down again.

I'm sure it's all symbolic of Guthrie's own penchant for taking his time, but there's a fine line between presenting a metaphor of tedium and presenting tedium itself. That said, there is a great deal of atmospheric mood throughout the film, so there's always something by which to be entertained. If nothing else, the volume of country folk music should keep lovers of that style humming along happily. And it appears all the actors are doing their own singing and instrument-playing live, rather than lip-synching to an audio track, creating a very approachable tone to the film. Plus, the Oscar-winning cinematography is spectacular. There are some amazingly beautiful images atop trains.

The political overtones (or are they undertones, I'm never quite sure of the difference) resist any heavy-handedness and, in fact, the message of the film probably has more to do with Guthrie's moral stance rather than the union concept as a whole. Woody is destitute for the vast majority of the film, but never asks for a free meal. He's constantly standing up for what he believes and, on several occasions, refuses money if it means he has to sacrifice his integrity. It's all about dignity.

I was going to write that David Carradine personifies the role of Woody Guthrie, but having had absolutely no exposure to anything related to the folk singer, I really can't back that up, other than to say that Carradine's portrayal is very natural. And I can totally see why he was cast in Kung Fu - for a white man, he sure does look Asian. I was also very impressed with Melinda Dillon's performance as Guthrie's wife. Confusingly, she also plays a brief second role as Guthrie's singing partner on the radio. Weird. A youngish Randy Quaid appears as another jobless hopeful that Guthrie befriends. And, to satisfy my love of spotting actors better known for other works, appearing in cameo roles are M. Emmet Walsh, Mary Kay Place, Brion James and, for the second time in this project, James Hong of Seinfeld's The Chinese Restaurant fame. (He was also in 1966 Best Picture nominee The Sand Pebbles.)

Best Picture of 1939

After ten more viewings, it is time again to make the difficult decision of which is my favourite. And considering that 1939 is often cited as old Hollywood's finest year, it is indeed difficult once more.

The nominees for Best Picture of 1939 are:

Dark Victory

Gone With the Wind

Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Love Affair

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Ninotchka

Of Mice and Men

Stagecoach

The Wizard of Oz

Wuthering Heights

As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the most interesting things about this awards year is the volume of adaptations that were nominated; six from novels, one from an unpublished story, and one from a play, leaving just two films not based on previous material. Of those adaptations, I discovered that a number of them suffered slightly from a somewhat hurried narrative. So, despite their other brilliant qualities, I will set aside Wuthering Heights, Dark Victory, Stagecoach and Goodbye, Mr. Chips. In all of these, excepting Wuthering Heights, it is the love story within them that I feel is affected the most. People just seem to fall in love so quickly. Romantic, I suppose, but a little implausible in most cases. Ninotchka, although a charmingly sweet comedy, suffers the same fate, so I shall stick that on the discard pile, as well.

The exception to this rule, in my mind, is Love Affair. Despite its characters' courtship transpiring rather swiftly, it feels natural and unforced. However, for other reasons, I'm not going to name this my favourite, either. Similarly, as much as I love The Wizard of Oz, and as much as it holds a very special place in my heart, it is at its core a children's movie. Not that children's movies should be automatically ineligible for the big prize, but there is simply a larger emotional scope available to other genres. This leaves me with three films, any of which could have taken my top spot. Yet, I must be conclusive, or perhaps just nit-picky, so I will now drop the very moving and captivating Mr. Smith Goes to Washington by the wayside.

The final two, which happen to be adaptations, are Gone With the Wind and Of Mice and Men. Both of these films managed to adapt their respective stories without it feeling rushed, the former due to its almost four-hour running time, the latter due to its relatively short source material. A mighty difficult decision, but in spite of its achievement of sending a chill down my spine, I will also say goodbye to Of Mice and Men. The fullness of Gone With the Wind's story, and at four hours, you'd better hope it would be complete, is going to take the honours this time.

Best Picture of 1939
Academy's choice: Gone With the Wind	Matt's choice: Gone With the Wind

Your choice:

So, another match with the Academy's choice. Interesting. I've been toying with the idea of adding a poll to each of these verdict posts, so that you lovely readers out there can voice your own opinion. I'll see if I can set that up for the next one. In the meantime, however, please feel free to leave a comment here with your favourite of 1939. Even if you haven't seen all the films. It doesn't matter. Academy members aren't required to have seen them all when they vote, either. And no need to give any reasons. You can merely write the name of the film and a smiley face, if you wish.

Next up for examination, I have chosen my birth year, 1976. Another spectacular one.

And the nominees for Best Picture of 1976 are:

All the President's Men

Bound for Glory

Network

Rocky

Taxi Driver

Yet another impressive selection of cinema. Stay tuned...

1939 - Love Affair

Covering an entire city block, Macy's is a gigantic department store here in New York City. And I mean gigantic. (In fact, it was the largest department store in the world until just a couple of months ago when a South Korean company opened an even more ridiculously sized one.) Whilst wandering around Macy's yesterday, I was mystified upon reaching the top of an escalator to find myself on Floor 1½. How do you get to this floor by elevator, I wondered. I imagined having to stop the elevator in between floors 1 and 2 and squeeze the doors open in order to exit, à la Being John Malkovich (pictured). But alas, the elevator's panel does indeed include a button for Floor 1½ and shoppers are able to simply step out without the need to crouch.

Still, how on earth did this happen? Once construction was complete, did some ambitious executive demand an extra floor in between the first and second? It appears not. On one side of the enormous building, the first floor does seem to have a mezzanine, so I suspect that this balcony-like floor was simply not numbered until the other side of the store was built. The question remains, though. Why 1½? Why not M for mezzanine? Or B for balcony? Even EF for extra floor would have been less absurd. I suppose 1½ is the simple option.

Last night, I reached the final contender in 1939's Best Picture competition...

Love Affair

Director:

Leo McCarey

Screenplay:

Delmer Daves, Donald Ogden Stewart, Leo McCarey and Mildred Cram

Starring:

Irene Dunne, Charles Boyer, Maria Ouspenskaya

Academy Awards:

6 nominations

0 wins

Don't be confused by the lead characters' names in this hopelessly romantic boy-meets-girl love story. The boy's name sounds like Michelle, but it's actually Michel. He's French, you see. And the girl's name is Terry, a common man's name. Got it? Good. So, Michel is a famous playboy finally settling down to get married. Terry is a frustrated singer somewhat involved with her supportive but boring boss. Michel and Terry meet on a cruise ship and, despite their attempts to suppress their affections, they secretly fall in love. They arrange to meet six months later on top of the Empire State Building, hoping by then to have reasonably dealt with the obstacles in their way, thereby making it possible for them to marry.

The film up to this point is simply beautiful. There's something sad but exciting about a love that cannot be and the obvious will-they-or-won't-they suspense that goes along with that. The secret flirtations. The no-we-mustn't looks. The but-I-can't-help-it touches. The to-hell-with-it kisses. It's genuinely beguiling to witness.

Inevitably, though, these kinds of stories suffer from the Ross and Rachel syndrome. As an audience, we begin to care a little less once they actually agree to be together. However, there are still plenty of obstacles in the way for Terry and Michel even after they declare their love for each other. But unfortunately, the main reason is a little hard to swallow. You see, when Terry is on her way to meet Michel at the Empire State Building, (spoiler alert) disaster strikes and she is knocked down by a car, ending up in hospital with a serious possibility of losing her ability to walk. But Terry doesn't inform Michel about any of this, reasoning that he would prefer not to be burdened with the task of taking care of a cripple. More months pass and even when they meet by chance at the theatre, she still insists on keeping the truth from him.

It all just seemed so unnecessary. Sure, the intention is there. She doesn't want him to sacrifice anything for her. But the reality is that it's kind of cruel. Michel waited until midnight for her and left devastated, remaining so for months.

Hmm, now that I'm writing this out, it actually is becoming quite a fascinating character study. Perhaps Terry's own self-doubt is the real culprit. Maybe she feared that Michel would reject her because of her condition and that's why she chose to keep him in the dark. She retains the control that way.

In any case, the final scene between the two of them recaptures that will-they-or-won't-they tension, and despite another abrupt ending (like Mr. Smith Goes To Washington), it is indeed satisfying.

Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer are superb in their roles. There's a great chemistry between them and some of those early scenes have a surprising improvised feel about them. Very natural, indeed, considering the era. Leo McCarey has a deft directing style, sharing those clandestine moments on the ship with the audience as if it really is a secret. Their first kiss, for instance, is partially hidden behind a door (pictured). A special mention also to Ferike Boros, who appears in a cameo performance as Terry's landlady. She is downright hilarious.

So, that concludes the beast that is the 1939 Best Picture race. The next post will contain my musings on which of these ten fine films deserves the accolade of being my favourite. Plus, find out which year is next...

1939 - Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

I'm back! Although I enjoyed an immensely fun time performing in an improv show every night and meeting some fantastic new people, my fondest memory of the last few days in Atlanta is my discovery of Whirlyball. Half sport, half amusement park ride, Whirlyball is like lacrosse in bumper cars. Yes, bumper cars. I defy you to play this game and not enjoy yourself.

An unfortunate consequence of my time in Georgia is the considerable delay in viewing the next Best Picture nominee, a delay that disrupts the six-movies-per-week viewing rate that is required for this project to be completed by its arbitrary deadline. Rather than suffer the humiliation of admitting defeat less than a month into the project, I will simply continue at a slightly more leisurely pace and worry about it later. Besides, with things becoming a tad busier for me, less frequent posts may have been an inevitable byproduct anyway. But fear not. I am still as passionately determined to see this project through to the end. It just might be an end with a later date than originally planned. Then again, you never know, I might just have a big movie marathon weekend at some point and find myself back on track without the need to extend the deadline.

Last night was time for the ninth of the nominees from 1939...

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

Director:

Frank Capra

Screenplay:

Sidney Buchman and Lewis R. Foster

Starring:

James Stewart, Jean Arthur, Claude Rains, Thomas Mitchell, Edward Arnold

Academy Awards:

11 nominations

1 win, for Best Original Story

The ultimate underdog story, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington pits a fresh-faced Senator against the corruptible political machine. Jefferson Smith is unexpectedly appointed as the Senator for an unnamed state, a move which has political boss Jim Taylor furious. Taylor essentially runs the state, controlling the Governor and the senior Senator, Joseph Paine, a man who Mr. Smith admires greatly... Until he learns of Paine's complicity in Taylor's corrupt political scheming. When Mr. Smith tries to pass a bill that inadvertently conflicts with a Taylor-supported bill, he finds himself beaten down, trodden on, chewed up and spat out. Despite his newfound disillusionment in the system, he remains standing, refusing to back down.

Delightfully droll and thoughtfully sincere, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington delivers an interesting message. On the one hand, it could be argued that the film is passionately critical of a corrupt system of government, and I imagine, at the time of the film's release, Senators must have been beside themselves. How dare Hollywood accuse them all of crookedness. And Nixon wasn't around for at least another 30 years. On the other hand (and clearly the more correct hand), the film's intention may be to illustrate the inspiring results that can be achieved by one man's dedication to stand up for what he believes in. For all its bashing of the political machine, Mr. Smith Goes To Washington is a most patriotic film, evidenced by its use of every single patriotic song known to man.

It is also a film in which punching journalists in the face is not only acceptable but encouraged. After all, the press is just as corrupt as the government. They need a good smack in the mouth. And Jefferson Smith is just the man to do it. He may be idealistic and naive, but he can still pack a punch ... or seven. In fact, that's what's so adorable about him (and James Stewart's portrayal). Despite being so innocent, he still has the courage to stand up to the bullies, even playing them at their own political game. There's nothing like being the little guy to garner the audience's empathy. And providing us with that opportunity to empathise are some simply captivating scenes on the Senate floor in which Mr. Smith braves his Goliath.

Director Frank Capra assembled a fabulous cast. An on-the-rise James Stewart cemented his screen persona as Mr. Smith. Claude Rains is superb as the corrupt senior Senator. As is Jean Arthur as Mr. Smith's aide and love interest (a political sex scandal sub-plot never arises, however). And the prolific Thomas Mitchell appears in yet another 1939 Best Picture nominee as the one decent press man.

Apparently, there were scenes that were shot, intended for the end, but not included in the final film. I feel as though they may have added to a more satisfying resolution. As it stands, the ending is rather abrupt and a little disconcerting.

Only one more to go in the mighty juggernaut that is 1939...