This Week in Rixflix #18: July 7–13, 2017

So, I am finding that I am far more interested at this point in just watching all of Alfred Hitchcock's film than in taking the TCM online course about them. I thought that once I got through the silents and early talkies, that I would leap into online modules and first couple of tests, but I was wrong. I feel no drive toward doing it right now, and frankly, just want to dive into ever more Hitchcock films.

Part of this comes from my general dislike of schooling in any form, especially in taking time on my own to go back to doing it, and the other part is probably due to my belief that I am not going to really learn all that much more about The Master's work than I already know. (Certainly I have forgotten more than I remember, but I still feel like I have pretty good recall on the important stuff.) This is sheer arrogance and bullshit on my part. What it really comes down to is that I am a lazy bastard who believes deep inside that the really important part of all this is actually watching the films. And I have done that part already.

Inside, though, I know that I really would benefit from hearing someone else reliably explain the history behind the films and their director, so the problem now is to convince myself that cutting some time out in the next couple of weeks to really knuckle down and complete this project would be a desirous thing. After all, I have been working on convincing myself that perhaps I should go back to school to get a journalism degree. Completing such a course as this, on even a small scale, could do wonders in showing myself that I am capable of sustaining focus long enough to bring such efforts to a satisfying close. Let's see if I can...

The Numbers: 

This week's feature-length film count: 22; 14 first-time viewings and 8 repeats.
Highest rated feature-length films: The 39 Steps (1935) and The Lady Vanishes (1938) – 9/9
Lowest rated feature films: Scared to Death (1947) – 4/9
Average films per day in July so far: 2.69
Average films per day in 2017 so far: 2.84
Consecutive days with at least 1 feature-length film seen per day: 212

The Reviews:

When Animals Dream (2014) Dir.: Jonas Alexander Arnby – If one reads through the capsule reviews about this Danish fantasy-horror film, submitted by users of IMDb – and I highly recommend that you don't, for the most part; it can be as bad an experience as reading random anonymous comments after any story online – one would gather that When Animals Dream is not only excruciatingly dull but also NOT a werewolf movie. They seem to be especially loud on this last point, that the film, which features a young woman slowly discovering she is starting the process of turning into a creature not definably in the realm of appearing human, is not a true werewolf film. Well, yes, When Animals Dream is not full of the usual talk of silver bullets and full moons that we see in the usual sort of "B" pictures featuring lycanthropes and the stilted mythology that has grown up around how to deal with them, most of which was largely instilled in us by Hollywood. Forget all that, though... this is a movie where a human female transforms into an altogether different creature, which is recognizably lupine (or even vulpine) in basic nature, the townsfolk have an awareness of her potential for violence, and go about attempting to torment her and ostracize her from the community because of this. The results might be different from what you think is a "werewolf" movie, but since when is experimenting with form a bad idea, especially when everyone yells about seeing the same old stuff over and over again? 

Me? I'd make friends with the cute shape-changer and get her on my side, because you never know when you will need her in a scrap. Especially with the awful people who populate the small fishing town in When Animals Dream. These people are fuckers, and a bunch of glum ones at that. I will say, there is some history on their side, as the girl's mother – who appears as a mere invalid (and almost catatonic at that) from the start of the film – has previously run amok in the town. Still, throwing fish at the girl and attacking her on the job at the canning factory are pretty stupid ideas if you think she is capable of turning into something horrible and killing you. What a bunch of dopes. However, the film goes no place that you really think it is, and this too might be why so many people on IMDb are critical of the results. Geez, first they swear it is not a werewolf picture, but then they get surly when it doesn't turn out the way a werewolf picture should. What a second bunch of dopes. – TC4P Rating: 6/9

Our Miss Brooks (1956) Dir.: Al Lewis – Eve Arden's comic timing and sarcastic edge were the saving grace of many a tepid comedy from the Hollywood studio factories throughout the late '30s and through the '40s. I chiefly know her from the television sitcom version of Our Miss Brooks, a character which she first made famous via the radio series, which ran from 1948 through 1957. The TV series ran concurrently for several years (1952-1956) with the radio version, and was the one to which I had access in my youth. The basic set-up of the show had high school English teacher Connie Brooks constantly trying to snare Philip Boynton, a fellow teacher, while also having to save the school from the self-serving whims of its blustery principal, Osgood Conklin. Sometimes, the show could get truly odd, which caught my eye as a teenager, as I always appreciated a show which could get away with parodying other shows and genres (on occasion) within the context of its own style. (What can I say? Maxwell Smart, along with Bullwinkle and Rocky, opened that door early...) Gale Gordon, who played Conklin, was also a favorite of mine on reruns of The Lucy Show that I saw some afternoons, so Miss Brooks gave me a double dose of his adept second banana skills. To be fair, the show  wasn't exactly at the top of my watch list, and still isn't, but I really enjoyed the show then and now.

I found out over the years since that there had been a movie version of Our Miss Brooks, released in 1956, the final year of the show's existence, but I never got the chance to see the film until recently when it aired on TCM. Using most of the television cast and having it directed and co-written by Al Lewis, who served as head writer on the TV series, seemed like it would just continue the wacky fun by jumping it over to the big screen. But this Our Miss Brooks almost feels like the life has been drained out of it. To be sure, Arden is spot on as always, and Gordon is his usual loud, quick-fuse self, but in ignoring the TV series altogether and basically doing a reboot instead (long before anyone ever really said "reboot"), the movie uprooted what was fun about the show – its fast talking, manic sensibility – and mires it squarely in a dull romantic plot and some sporadic slapstick by Gordon. If I had seen the film first as a kid and found out there was a TV connection, I would have never watched the series as a result. – TC4P Rating: 5/9

Nothing the Public Enjoys More Than a Little Iron Fisting...

Yes, Marvel's quickly upcoming Iron Fist series is getting an early critical drubbing from pop culture and nerd sites all over the interwebs (the reviews are based on the first six episodes), but that in no way is going to keep me from hitting Netflix as early as possible this Friday to see the show for myself.

On a personal level, if they were going to concentrate on a pure martial arts series (though it is hard to say that Daredevil isn't really already such a creation), I would have preferred that Marvel do an adaptation of Shang-Chi, Master of Kung Fu (with or without the Sax Rohmer characters from the Fu Manchu books, part of the original Shang Chi series). Who knows? Shang-Chi has been shown to be a friend of Danny Rand's in recent years, so maybe he will pop up in a cameo in the future.

But, I also recognize that as goes Luke Cage, so goes Danny Rand (as well as Misty Knight and Colleen Wing). Since Luke has his own series, it is a natural to have Power Man and Iron Fist together eventually (even if it is in The Defenders, where Iron Fist was only a member for a day in the '70s comic, while both were members of the Secret Defenders in briefly in the mid-'90s.)

If we must go through a new series that is not quite as good as the other Marvel Netflix series that preceded it, then so be it. The bar has already been set so high with the preceding series that it was only going to be a matter of time before something that was still pretty excellent was going to get a thrashing from the public for not being totally excellent. Though I am hoping that it turns out that I end up personally enjoying Iron Fist, and thus will be able to tell the rest of the critical world to screw off...

The Clash of One Titan and Some Also-Rans

Iron Man
Director: Jon Favreau
Marvel Studios/Paramount, 2:06, color
Cinema 4 Rating: 8

My pal Proty informed me a couple of weeks ago that Iron Man was “alright.” Actually, Proty said: “It was eye-ight,” with a more than slight upswing in his tone on the last word of the sentence that imparted to me that it was more than merely O.K. with him, and that Proty either likely enjoyed it or was at least pleasantly surprised, though not liked it quite nearly enough so that his statement could end with some form of emphatic punctuation such as an exclamation point. Of course, Proty just had to add the notion that “it was kinda like Transformers.”

Iron Man is more than “eye-ight.” And no, my pal Proty, except for the heroes in both films sporting metallic armor of some variety, it wasn’t at all like Transformers. Transformers, despite some fairly competent action sequences, sucked beyond belief. Transformers sucked in exactly the same way that was meant by the acne-laden, mouth-breathing, hoodie-wearing teen that sat behind me at Cloverfield, as he defiantly stood up midway through that film's credits and shouted "That fuckin' sucked!," even though he nearly shat his pants twice during the film. (Gee... so the payback for a purportedly scary film actually turning out to be scary is that you will tell your friends it isn't scary, all because you have to play tough?) In fact, I am pretty certain that this same teen absolutely loved Transformers, and then when he did go to Iron Man, he probably told all of his friends that it "ripped off" Transformers. But that is the way of Generation Oops: the idiot, uninformed youth.

But outside of that minor comparison of individual armories, otherwise -- in the realm of things on which the true quality of a film should depend: characterizations, storyline, dialogue – Iron Man is lights years past wherever Transformers barely dipped a toe. Even using characters and a plotline rehashed from comic books twenty years before the point that the Transformers flickered crudely animated onto American television screens, Iron Man still soundly quashes that latest example of Michael Bay’s general ineptitude at anything beyond flashy effects sequences.

And then there is the acting. Don't get me started on actor-by-actor comparisons, because that is truly an unnecessary undertaking in cases like these. These films draw big-time talent like flies. Especially with big-budget blockbuster films, where many actors don't really care about the potential quality of the piece, but rather about the CA$H and blockbuster exposure (which leads to even more CA$H). While there are those actors who will take a part in a comic book-style (or children's) flick because a) their kids love it, or b) they loved it as a kid, for the most part, actors take these parts because they can smell the green when the initial call from the producer gets left with their service.

Assuredly, like many of these films no matter the quality, Transformers has some wonderful actors in it, but they are mainly just there to catch a piece of the residuals. For the most part, outside of that LaBeouf twink, they have done far better work in at least more entertaining projects, if not more important or better made ones. John Turturro, Julie White, Jon Voight, Bernie Mac, Anthony Anderson -- they've all done or will do far better things. They simply collect their checks and move on...

Shia LaBeouf won't -- he's already linked to Transformers sequels for however long audiences will put up with soulless dreck -- and he has already convinced several big-name directors, in much the same way that Cruise and Keanu Reeves did before him, that he is the heir apparent to Hollywood star status. This has to be solely through the sheer power of his box office take, because acting-wise, he has done nothing in the way of convincing me that he can play anyone but himself. Such a centrally-based talent is fine for someone like Carrot Top, who really has no other choice but to be his teeth-grinding self, but LaBeouf the Grating will now be inescapable for the near future. At least Chris O'Donnell had the common decency to just be flat-out bland and kindly bored casting directors into all but killing his career. But LaBeouf actually seems to represent his dead-eyed, self-possessed generation in such a way that he shines out like a beacon in an otherwise starless night to people like Spielberg and Bay, who like anyone, are anxious to capture that core demographic, no matter the cost in credibility. And so now I have to put up with the weaselly, little snivelshit tomorrow night in the new Indiana Jones flick. If only there had been a horrible accident on the set of Disturbia, I would have been spared everything he's done since. Wait -- let's move that accident bar back to Constantine.

But back to Iron Man, where if the actors did indeed sign up only for the bucks, they at least were signed to parts practically perfect for each one. Downey has certainly climbed back fully from the abyss in which he mired himself (there's no one else to blame, really), but then, I thought that when I saw him in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. (Really, people. Avail yourself of this film already. It's a riot.) Unlike Kiss though, Iron Man is putting yourself out in front of people on one of the most grandiose levels that one can. It takes balls to possibly destroy your career further by taking on the lead role of a superhero, especially in a film that potentially could have destroyed an upcoming studio should it have failed on any level at all. But it doesn't fail anywhere, and while the entire cast is terrific, this is Downey's film to carry and the true responsibility for its success should lie upon him.

Now, a word to reviewers who love to describe Jeff Bridges' acting in this film as "over-the-top" or "hammy" or "scenery-chewing." Honestly, I felt he underplayed the role. In fact, he is so far in the background until a pair of huge scenes, I thought the scenery was chewing him instead. Yes, in those big scenes he elevates his emotions to almost shocking levels. But what the hell do you want in a movie which is derived from a comic book? (And this is no knock on comic books -- I am a lifelong collector.) Look, I just reread the original Iron Man story once again last week, and do you realize that the only word balloons that don't end in exclamation points are the ones that end in question marks. And those are fairly rare. Comic books -- and comic book heroes and villains -- are supposed to be accompanied by exclamation points! And while I am at it: !!!!!!!!!!!

Sure, you could point out that this would then give an excuse for that thankfully rare Batman & Robin fan out there to claim this is the proof that Ah-nuld or Uma were actually dead-on in their portrayals of Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy. I say thee "Nay!" There is a monstrous difference between "good" over-the-top acting and the "bad" variety. Of the examples given above, only Mr. Bridges represents the former.

To this point, even after the first two Spideys, the original two Reeve Supermans and the Burton and Nolan Batman flicks, Iron Man could turn out to be the saving grace for modern superhero films. It’s the one where the ratio of regular guy audience connection to super-powered alter-ego action is finally mixed perfectly. Seriously, I am a Batman-aholic, but the Caped Crusader as envisioned currently can be a tough nut to crack for even the hardiest of fans. Iron Man, mainly due to Downey's completely infectious performance, may be the specimen that allows hoity-toity film reviewers from even far-flung lands – who will spend a good portion of their review explaining how normally they find all that super-hero action to be greasy kid's stuff and far below their notice – to finally recognize that these types of films can have their benefits.

The best of superhero stories can possess what the best of any genre should have, and they can have ideas beyond simple good vs. evil. They can weigh in on far more serious matters beyond "I'm lonely and misunderstood... boo-hoo! -- Hey, I have superpowers!" Iron Man touches on the military-industrial complex, war profiteering and terrorism. Tony Stark himself will even likely have a fall from grace in the movie sequels due to his rampant alcoholism, and if it sounds old hat today, when I was first reading those stories in the seventies, I was absolutely shocked with how I suddenly had to deal with such an adult issue. (The mind reels with how Downey will play this aspect of the role.) Soon, we will have the Watchmen onscreen with their ever-present nuclear clock, and while the answer to the question of "Who Watches the Watchmen?" will likely be answered, "Not huge audiences..." (it is a cult concept at best, and the film must be rated a very hard "R" to be pulled off properly), it will show once more that superhero comics are not just greasy kid's stuff after all anymore.

True, the use of these powers can often right the world for the character in a simplistic fashion, and it's also true that often the use of these powers can be seen as being ironically fascistic. But those that condemn the genre automatically -- and those that assume that this attitude is the only prevalent standard within comics -- have clearly never been fully exposed to the genre. They don't understand that the genre, especially in the past thirty years, has grown up enormously, and that it is far beyond the donning of some colorful tights. Or a shiny metallic suit.

All of these concepts are far beyond those to be found in Transformers. Yeah, it too has shiny metal heroes. What it doesn't have, and what it's director will never have, is any concept of a soul. Sorry, Proty. It's a surface-to-airhead missile that the likes of Tony Stark would never have designed on his worst day.