ARCHIVES July/August 2008
August 24, 2008
HOW DO WE DEFINE WHAT IS A HORROR MOVIE?
In the soon-to-be-released MIDNIGHT MARQUEE #76, a group of writers, including myself, debate whether or not Alfred Hitchcock's PSYCHO should be considered one of the 13 most influential horror movies of all time. Everyone on the panel agreed that PSYCHO was indeed a horror movie, but many writers referenced the fact that many people do not consider it so.
The first line of demarcation, in defining a movie as a horror movie, would be whether or not the movie contains a supernatural subtext or not. Thematically dealing with the supernatural almost always qualifies a movie as horror. SUSPIRIA deals with a coven of witches that operate out of a private girls' school, but supernatural occurrences color the gruesome splatter. Everyone agrees SUSPIRIA is a horror movie.
The old chestnut Universal horror classics are supernaturally derived and qualify, without question, as horror movies. We have the undead Count Dracula surviving on human blood for hundreds of years; we have the patchwork corpse Frankenstein Monster risen from the gallows and graveyards by scientific technology and the power of electricity; we have the bestial curse of the full moon transforming an innocent human being into a werewolf in THE WOLF MAN, and the list goes on and on.
But when it comes to non-supernatural horror in cinema, what qualifies as a true horror movie? For instance, war films such as SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, APOCALYPSE NOW and PLATOON deal with the horrors of war, but no one would ever consider them horror movies. But war films, perhaps more than any other genre, deal with the horrors of human cruelty and sudden, unexplained death. And such deaths are horrific and come without warning.
Author Mark Clark likes to think that the serial killer has replaced Count Dracula as the icon of Gothic horror in today's cinema. The seeds of that statement go back to the 1940s with films such as THE LEOPARD MAN, where the fiend guts a runaway leopard and uses its teeth and claws as his device of torture and murder, and THE SEVENTH VICTIM, where a devil cult hires a knife-bearing assassin to do away with a renegade cult member (Jean Brooks). The knife wielding serial killer can be traced through many classics of film noir where deviants use knives to slice and dice innocent victims, mainly women. This knife imagery and unbalanced mental states peaked in 1960 with PSYCHO and PEEPING TOM and returned, in a greatly altered form, in the late 1970s with classic splatter films such as HALLOWEEN, BLACK CHRISTMAS, FRIDAY THE 13 TH and a slew of others. However, the fiends of modern horror--Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers--are all supernaturally based. Freddy invades innocents in their dreams and slaughters them in his dream reality. Jason is superhuman and returns even after he has been killed. The Shape, Michael Myers, seems to be the most human of all serial killers, until the end of HALLOWEEN when the obviously should-be-dead fiend disappears, only to return time and time again. But PSYCHO is the exception. Norman Bates is deranged and a cross-dressing fragmented lunatic, but he is very human and there's nothing supernatural about him or his world.
The same is true with Hannibal Lecter, who first rose to classic cinematic status with Anthony Hopkins' performance in SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. Yes, the fiend was ruthless, heartless (most of the time that is, but of course not so around Clarice) and a killing machine lacking morals or conscience. However, most people consider SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, like PSYCHO, a classic horror film, while many say these two films are classic suspense dramas and are not horror movies.
If the emphasis is on the serial killer, is that the only criteria needed for labeling such films as horror movies? Does that make every serial killer movie a horror movie? How do we delineate between the thriller, whose major villain is a serial killer, and movies such as PSYCHO and SILENCE OF THE LAMBS? A film such as SEVEN is most likely grouped into that dubious category of thrillers that are also considered horror movies. Why are these thrillers considered horror movies and films such as KISS THE GIRLS, TIGHTROPE (with Clint Eastwood) and COPY CAT considered thrillers? What's the difference between them?
Again, does it have to do with the psychopath becoming a dominant, featured character (but wasn't Norman Bates a supporting character?), with the film's focus primarily on the serial killer? Does defining such serial killer movies as horror have to do with the quotient of bloodletting that occurs in the movie? For instance the HOSTEL and SAW franchise movies are considered horror movies mainly because of their grisly torture sequences and over-abundance of over-the-top gore makeup effects. In these films the bloodletting is intense, but is this the qualifying factor that makes thrillers horror?
An excellent teen-oriented thriller DISTURBIA became a fairly successful release about one year, and again the film was a rethinking of Alfred Hitchcock's REAR WINDOW, featuring a psycho who moves into a laid back suburban neighborhood but is watched methodically and slowly figured out by the teenage rebel (the hugely popular Shia LaBeouf), who was on home detention, with plenty of free time on his hands. Most critics and moviegoers called this a horror movie, but the similarly themed REAR WINDOW is always considered a thriller. Does it have to do with A productions vs. Bs? Just because James Stewart and Grace Kelley (and psycho Raymond Burr) are the stars, does that mean REAR WINDOW is a thriller? Such a label must be stronger than star quality alone.
Again, what labels one as a thriller and the other as horror? In fact, are SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, SEVEN and even PSYCHO horror movies? What makes them rate high on the horror film genre litmus test while a slew of thriller movies, with equally bloodthirsty serial killers, are considered thrillers? How do we differentiate? How do we split the hairs, literally and figuratively?
In PSYCHO Anthony Perkins plays demented Norman Bates who stabs criminal Janet Leigh to death in the shower, about one third through the movie, shocking at the time (killing off a major Hollywood star this early in the movie). Shocking enough to label PSYCHO as a horror film classic?!!!! However, a generation earlier Laird Cregar played a demented police detective who kills sexy model Carole Landis about one quarter through the movie, also equally shocking, and the film is considered a classic of film noir (a suspense thriller too!). Theme and tone are almost identical, but one becomes horror and the other a thriller. Why?
To me it just does not make sense. Email me at midmargary@aol.com if any readers of this blog can better differentiate or define the subtleties that qualify PSYCHO as a horror movie and similarly themed movies as thrillers.
August 8, 2008
MIDNIGHT MARQUEE #76 arrives
in early SeptemberHere is the cover!
August 4, 2008
ONE-EYED HORSE: A Myopic Review
photo: Director/writer Wayne Shipley directs a sequence from the movie.
Filming a Western in Maryland? Somehow Maryland makes a wonderful post-Civil War Missouri, circa the 1880s. And former English teacher Wayne Shipley fulfills his dream of paying homage to the two great inspirations of his life, John Ford and "Wild Bill" (as in William) Shakespeare. Yes, Shipley who wrote and directed One-Eyed Horse did not intend his independent feature film to be a shoot-'em-up B Western of the Hopalong Cassidy variety. No, we are talking five-act Shakespearean tragedy dripping with characters with haunted pasts, consumed by guilt and hatred, with personal redemption always two steps out of reach. These are tragically flawed men who are unable to leave the past behind and whose lives are destroyed because of being stuck there.
Shipley, like Shakespeare and Ford before him, knows the importance of pacing, comic relief and splash and dash action. In between tight shoots on the human face (the ultimate special effect) One-Eyed Horse includes a wild and wooly horseback chase sequence in the woods (in which Shipley, playing a supporting role, dies a glorious death that he most likely envisioned while a kid playing "cowboys" out back on the family farm), a no holds barred boxing match with the entire town seeming in attendance, and a final confrontation and three man shoot out that moves so swiftly that the audience is challenged to figure out the progression of who shot who and why! Shipley is not above inserting a rootin' tootin' barroom fight and some boy/girl romance (vying for man/horse bonding that becomes the chief metaphor of the movie... a dignified saddle-bum who lovingly cares for his one-eyed, half blind horse, this theme of each father's blinding single-vision dominating the script).
The cinematography and editing by Jeff Herberger, following Shipley's tightly composed script, makes the 138 minutes stampede by. Herberger lights most of the interiors with natural light... a lantern here, a candle there and the warm tones shot in HD video seem more like film. Herberger's artistic composition captures period detail yet never forgets that faces and words emanating from faces are his chief focus. The camera moves when it should and stays sedimentary where it needs to be still. And such subtlety might make audiences forget such craft and the soulful eye that lenses this production. Next to Shipley, One-Eyed Horse belongs to Herberger artistically.
Because the script is character dominated, the acting becomes of greatest importance. In most independently produced movies with over 100 speaking parts (practically unheard of), maintaining a consistency of acting is next to impossible. However, the talented ensemble cast never lets Shipley down. Stars Mark Redfield, Mike Hogan, Jennifer Rouse and Kelly Potchak create masterful interpretations of parallel father-daughter relationships, both fathers tormented by the past horrors of the Civil War... and their momentary chance meeting. And both daughters, young and innocent, try to protect their fathers, at all cost. But what makes the acting in One-Eyed Horse so special is the fact that the smaller character performances are just as strong as the dominant ones. For instance, George Stover plays Cy, the man who tends horses at the livery stable, and in his brief two-minute sequence he creates a masterful, low-key performance that is memorable and touches the heart. Likewise, co-producer Bill Blewett plays Babcock, a fight promoter, and in his short scenes he creates a wonderful image of the boxing manager who is more con artist than business adviser. Barry Murphy plays another boxing manager whose bluster and screaming rants create comic relief delivered exactly at the point in the film where comedy is needed. Murphy's hilarious cameo ends much too soon. And the movie throws such brief yet well-written supporting performances at the audience constantly, demonstrating the principal that the acting chain is only as strong as its weakest links. Yes, one or two performances feature actors whose Baltimore accents seep through, but such incidences are the exception. The acting across the board is superior and becomes the reason why One-Eyed Horse is such an overwhelming success.
Five-act Shakespearean tragedy meets the epic visuals of John Ford, One-Eyed Horse becomes the ultimate, hybrid homage that melds two unlikely worlds of literature (print and visual) to stunning effect. Shipley would have had an easier time producing a blood and thunder "B" horse opera with a smaller cast and a simplistic plot, but Shipley's vision was more complex than that. This movie becomes the work of a lifetime, a one-shot artistic barrage that bleeds more from the heart than it does the pocketbook. And happily, One-Eyed Horse defies the odds and becomes a profound triumph of a filmmaker who delivered his vision, uncompromised.
August 2, 2008
REAL D Cinema 3-D:
Everything Old is New Again!
I recently saw JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH 3-D, the latest movie to demonstrate the "Real D" digital 3-D photography process. And I must say, I was very impressed by the depth of field and wild visual effects, both floating in front of and seemingly drifting behind the movie screen. 3-D has come a long way since HOUSE OF WAX back in 1953.
However, the media has been bombarding movie-goers with all sorts of ballyhoo claiming that the older 3-D was intended to throw things at the audience, to play up the gimmickry of the process. However, the Read D Cinema spokespeople claim their this refined 3-D photography is intended to "involve" audiences in the movie experience, that the gimmicks of shocking the theater audience is not what this new 3-D process is all about. 3-D has, in other words, matured. This is not your parents' 3-D.
Rubbish!!!!
JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH would most likely be a TV movie if it were not for the delightful 3-D splash and dash. For instance, we have a wonderful sequence where a T-Rex is hovering above our boy hero and saliva drips from its mouth and splashes downward, right on the audiences' collective heads. In another sequence, in a mineshaft, our cast takes a roller-coaster ride in two mining carts that travel on railroad tracks. What we have is the equivalent of THIS IS CINERAMA'S equally mind-blowing roller roaster ride, but now as we dip and roll up the underground hills, we experience the thrill ride in 3-D. Yes, the depth perception involves us in the movie experience, but the photography is also gimmicky as well. In another dazzling sequence, our boy hero has to walk from one underground cliff to another, by jumping and balancing himself on floating boulders that are propelled to and fro by human weight (they even flip upside down and keep twirling). Such sequences become the equivalent of a 3-D big screen video game.
The original 1959 JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH, a favorite with baby boomers, still thrills audiences today. Even though the film is not as classic as one might remember, the gripping special effects (yes, even using lizards works just fine in this film), the acting of James Mason and others and the booming musical score by Bernard Herrmann ace anything in this modern remake. But the 3-D effects are the best I ever experienced and the fun I had cannot be ignored.
But look at 1953 and the birth of original 3-D movies (that petered out by 1954). Movies were losing business to television and people were staying home in droves to watch the magic little box. So what did Hollywood do in response? They invented CinemaScope wide screen movies, they filmed movies in Technicolor (remember color did not come to TV until the late 1950s) with stereophonic sound for the major "Roadshow" productions. And they created 3-D photography that required goofy glasses in order to perceive the aura of depth. Any old trick to get the masses to return to the theaters.
Let's look at Hollywood today and the reasons for the rebirth of 3-D movies. Home theaters are growing and becoming the norm, allowing people to control their movie-watching environment (no cell phones, no texting and bright phone or PDA screens, no talking, no fights, no weapons). While home theaters have Dolby Digital and DTS surround sound and larger screens, they do not have the ability to reproduce 3-D effectively yet. So just like in 1953, in 2008 Hollywood is trying to justify $10 ticket prices and snack bar concessions that cost upwards to $50, per family, a visit. The goal is to get people out of their home theaters and back into the regular theaters to experience movies publicly, collectively, in the big theater with 50-foot screens and now Real D Cinema 3-D. Supposedly all of the CGI animated features released in the future will be released in 3-D versions as well, and
3-D is supposed to become more of a regular addition to major Hollywood movies.
Well, the gimmickry did not work in 1953 and I don't think it will work today in 2008. Granted, the improved glasses and 3-D photography are dazzling and do not seem to cause headaches as the older format did. But the "take-the-audience-out-of-the-movie-experience" requirementof having to wear tight-fitting glasses is something that people will never truly enjoy or allow themselves to forget. It's a burden, in other words, whenever audiences have to don such glasses. And while the 3-D experience might work for animated features and action-adventure films, it will not enhance all movies. Real D 3-D is a gimmick, so let's be honest and label it as such.
Amazingly, home theaters will continue to proliferate and movie theaters, with their inflated ticket costs and expensive food, will price themselves out of the market, especially after the downloading of HD movies becomes commonplace. Not even Real D Cinema 3-D will be able to change that fact.
August 2, 2008 PART TWO
Please forgive me for posting fewer Blog entries during the past four weeks. I am in the midst of preparing our first digital issue of MIDNIGHT MARQUEE, #76, and most of my Blog time has been devoted to prepping the new issue. By the way, the issue should be posted within the next 7-10 days. Keep a watch for the date on our web site. And we will be completely redesigning our web site to make it more user friendly and more of a presence. This web site update will appear the same time the new issue is posted. And once the issue is posted, more Blog entries should be appearing regularly.
July 13, 2008
ALEJANDRO ESCOVEDO Shines Real As An Animal
For those of us boomers who grew up on rock'n'roll, it becomes difficult to find something emotional and musical today that compares and resonates with the best of the past. On June 24 one of my favorite artists, Alejandro Escovedo, released perhaps the finest album of his career, to little fanfare (but more than he usually gets).
Escovedo is a left-of-center artist, a man who spent the last 30 years being true to his musical muse instead of being concerned with stardom and fame. All his albums are good, some are great, and his latest, Real Animal, is transcendent.
In the mid- to late-1970s, Escovedo played guitar and wrote music for a punk band, The Nuns, one of the bands that opened for the Sex Pistols on their last ever concert. Other bands followed such as Rank and File, True Believers and Buick MacKane. Then his solo career ignited, prompting No Depression magazine to label Escovedo the artist of the decade (the 1990s). But probably most people never heard of him.
Do yourself a favor and buy the CD or download Real Animal to be reminded of the emotion, music and cutting lyrics that rock music is capable of producing in the hands of a master. Remember the days where downloading a song wasn't an option because albums were like novels, they told a story chapter by chapter. And in those Golden Days albums managed to engage the listener from beginning to end, with hardly a clunker in the lot. Of course albums lasted 30 to 40 minutes (not the 50-70 minutes that most albums clock in today) and were lean and mean.
I bought my first Alejandro Escovedo album in 1998... how could I ignore a so-called artist of the decade? That album was the aptly titled More Miles Than Money: Live 1996-1998 . Recorded in small venues and made to sound like an intimate studio album (downplaying the audience noise and reaction), the album featured both original and classic rock cover songs (The Stooges' I Wanna Be Your Dog , Lou Reed's Street Hassle and The Rolling Stones' Sway , never done better) reduced to a common sound by Escovedo's coveted churning cello and violin rock orchestral sound... playing rock riffs along with the typical guitar, bass and drums set up. In fact, the constant with Escovedo's sound (whether he plays mid-tempo twangy pop, high energy rock or emotionally-felt ballads) is his use of these spooky strings to augment a natural rock'n'roll sound. I was mesmerized by the music and glued to Escovedo's strong voice, so I became a fan. Everyone who follows "Al" knows he will never become a star, instead, he's an artist more concerned with craft, his vocation, and his music touches the heart deeply.
Now his 10 th solo album, Real Animal , produced by Tony Visconti (who produced David Bowie, T-Rex and Thin Lizzy), shows Escovedo as survivor, now working with co-writer Chuck Prophet (a survivor himself of bands such as Green On Red, the heralded Paisley Underground band, and now a solo artist himself), the songs have never been sharper. Let's discuss a few of them.
Chelsea Hotel '78 , the NYC punk rock Mecca where Sid and Nancy lived, is recounted with Escovedo putting himself on the sidewalk when the police were called after Nancy was found dead in a hotel room. In the course of this song Escovedo describes, as a documenting and detached short story writer, the odd sorts who lived at the hotel, with each chorus screaming: "It makes no sense; it makes perfect sense," such a contradiction being crystal clear in this instant. "The Max's Kansas City lifestyle made everyone a star." By the song's end Escovedo moans "We all moved out; we all moved on" over and over, until the final fade. Kind of like a punk rock graduation, with all the graduates moving on but never forgetting the experiences gained at the Chelsea.
When the next song Sister Lost Soul begins, Escovedo reminds us that "nobody left unbroken, nobody left unscarred" and then delves into a song that reflects upon all his brothers (and sisters) in arms who passed on as he continues his journey. "Nobody here is talking... that's just the way things are." Soon the lyrics state how the singer is reminded, "you're not here anymore... I need you!" As the song develops, the singer wishes to lay down besides this woman, her breath in his ear, but he admits to be lying to himself, that this can never be. Only an artist who brags about "more miles than money" can make this emotional connection click.
Smoke is a happier song, detailing the 1970s rock club scene and the fun of making a fool of oneself on the dance floor. With roaring guitars riffing in the background, Escovedo speaks of a friend being "all dolled up" while the guitars mimic the high-octane riffs of another neglected musical legend, The New York Dolls. But the message of this song is to loose yourself in the music. The song references lots of close friends by first names (almost a tribute to Lou Reed who made such referencing his trademark), who confess they since settled down and are raising kids. The song ends with the chanting of "Smoke, baby, smoke, you're gonna smoke baby smoke, all night long."
People (We're Only Gonna Live So Long) is a blues/rock chant that deals with Escovedo's urge to connect with other people, but in the chorus always reminding himself, "We still got time, but never as much as we think/as we need." The singer tries to strike a balance understanding basic human flaws stating "Some take a shower, some take a bath, some don't ever get clean" and "some live as criminals, some live as boy scouts, most of us live in between." The ying-yang lyrics are never meant to be profound, but they are matter-of-fact slices of life, descriptions of the way people live. The song crescendos into a confession that he tries to love people, warts and all, although he confesses, some are easier to love than others.
Such an album could only come from a long-term rock veteran, a man who is now 57 years old but rocks like he's 30 years longer. Years of experience and learning about life have produced an album heavy in retrospection. Escovedo, who was diagnosed with Hepatitis D over a decade ago, almost died in 2004, but today his disease is in remission. In the song Golden Bear he speaks of "there's a creature in my body, there's a creature in my blood" which deals with his close encounter with death. "Why me?" he questions near the end.
The title song, Real As An Animal , is his tribute to his mentor and hero Iggy Pop, and the song almost sounds as though the guitars are about to incinerate. "I wanna hear ya, la-la-la-la-yeaaaahhhh, animal... real as an animal" And Escovedo reminds us of the Ig singing " Louis Louis from the jungle gym." Complimenting this rocking fury is perhaps the best ballad of the set, Sensitive Boys , that describes the heart and soul of any kid who tries to make the rock'n'roll lifestyle his own. "Big dreamy eyes... shivering in the cold light of New York City." Escovedo knows the clothes, the sneer and the attitude become the protective cover for the vulnerable artist. "Nothing's ever what it seems, too much just ain't enough... like an open wound, you always felt too much... sensitive boys want all your love and they want no love at all." Escovedo is no longer a sensitive boy, but he remembers well when he was the young misunderstood punk. This song, featuring a backup chorus, is a slow burn containing a disciplined yet powerful guitar solo. "Sensitive boys, turn your amps up loud," and from one channel a buzzing guitar drone quietly comes to the surface, one of the terrific subtleties that producer Tony Visconti brings to the record. "I'm still out here somewhere and no one can take your place. The world needs you now." The old rock'n'roll veteran acknowledging the importance of younger kids keeping his tradition alive. And the song ends with a noir-ish saxophone solo that slowly fades, so perfectly.
The album, which attempts to connect the present with the past, summing up Escovedo's current life by tracing his roots back to the humble beginning, ends with a song, another ballad, that sums up this duality, Slow Down . As he plays back his favorite music in his mind (he states he hears it in the wind), Escovedo humbly states, "I don't know what this means to you, but it was everything to me." And the song ends with Escovedo simply stating the common theme of every song contained within: "The past is gone, but it still lives inside of me, hold on tight as we slip into this revelry... slow down, slow down, it's moving much too fast, I try to live in this moment, but I'm tangled in the past."
When was the last time you heard an album where each song was organic and breathed life upon itself, as a total entity, existing as a whole? Yet, by the end of the album, you can see how each song becomes a separate chapter of one musical novel, depicting one life told in music, where the past shapes us and affects the way we live and feel in the present. And I haven't detailed all 13 songs contained in this set, all of which are worthy, a few even great. As Escovedo wails, "All I ever wanted was a four piece band!"
This is the album for adults who ask constantly, why isn't rock music as profound, as pounding, and as resonating as it was during the 1960s and 1970s? Real Animal, by Alejandro Escovedo, most certainly is.
