Cocktail (1988)

Cocktail.jpg

You get the women, you get the bucks. Ex-soldier Brian Flanagan (Tom Cruise) desperately wants to be a success and after working at his uncle’s bar takes an evening job at a New York City tavern run by Doug Coughlin (Bryan Brown) while studying business at City College by day so that he can get a marketing job. Flanagan is mentored by the cynical Coughlin who tells him to watch out for rich chicks and together their showy tricks and charisma command large crowds and tips at a nightclub where they plan to set up a business together. When they have a falling out over the affections of photographer Coral (Gina Gershon), Flanagan moves to Jamaica to raise enough money to open his own bar and he falls in love with vacationing waitress and wannabe artist Jordan Mooney (Elisabeth Shue) but he takes the bait from honeymooning Coughlin, himself married to a Rich Chick (Kelly Lynch) and gets involved with wealthy Manhattan executive Bonnie (Lisa Banes) ... Coughlins’s Law:  Anything else is always something better. It’s only taken me thirty years to get around to seeing a film I was too snobby to watch when it was trailed in my local cinema. Kids, eh!  Yet it’s one of those that was tailored to confirm Cruise’s superstardom – another tale of a daredevil on the make, this time on the ground (albeit after he’s served his country, perhaps as a Navy flyer). And we’re in materialistic NYC in the Eighties where everyone was promiscuous because nobody ever heard of AIDS. As if.  Yet there is a Faustian story going on which was watered down before being served. There were a lot of re-shoots to make the material more upbeat and incorporate improbable bartending tricks while Maurice Jarre’s original score was replaced. Shue is rather ill-served by a misogynistic narrative, Brown moreso since his worldview permeates the theme albeit it informs the conclusion, but it’s great to see Ellen Foley, Lynch and Gershon in the ensemble. Does it complete me? I’ll get back to ya in another three decades! Adapted by Heywood Gould from his dark semi-autobiographical novel and directed by Roger Donaldson.  I am the last barman poet / I see America drinking the fabulous cocktails I make / Americans getting stinky on something I stir or shake / The sex on the beach / The schnapps made from peach / The velvet hammer / The Alabama slammer. / I make things with juice and froth / The pink squirrel / The three-toed sloth. / I make drinks so sweet and snazzy / The iced tea / The kamakazi / The orgasm / The death spasm / The Singapore sling / The dingaling. / America you’ve just been devoted to every flavor I got / But if you want to got loaded / Why don’t you just order a shot? / Bar is open.

Advertisements

Miss Congeniality 2: Armed & Fabulous (2005)

Miss Congeniality 2.jpg

I just don’t want to become FBI Barbie again. Gracie Hart (Sandra Bullock) is Amiable Agent according to the newspapers following her success at the Miss United States pageant but it fouls up her success in the middle of a bank heist. When her romance with a fellow agent ends she spends ten months being made over as the face of the FBI enduring book signings and teamed with bodyguard Sam Fuller (Regina King) who is far from impressed with her celebrity. The pair has to put aside their differences when one of Gracie’s former beauty queen pals, Cheryl Frasier (Heather Burns) is kidnapped with pageant MC Stan Fields (William Shatner) and the FBI is put on the case but Gracie decides this is one for her on her own.  Fuller has other ideas … The face of the FBI uses her words or her fists. Not a chair. And no snorting. Bullock returns a few weeks after becoming runner-up to Miss United States and she’s her old self, just dying to hit somebody except her fame is foiling her effectiveness on the job. Beauty queen rivalry is replaced with her violent new colleague Fuller, which sucks up the energy she used on her departed boyfriend now stationed in Miami. There are fun moments and a nice chase with a supposed Dolly Parton impersonator (with a nice cameo by you know who). Not as charming as its predecessor with more PC marks hit (gay, black, drag, kid, etc) but mildly entertaining. Bullock’s charm carries most of it and there are some good exchanges when she uses pageant clichés in highly inappropriate scenarios. King is good as the tough lady who beats up on anyone – even Regis Philbin and old people looking for Gracie’s autograph –  and it’s nice to see Treat Williams as the Vegas bureau chief and Eileen Brennan as Shatner’s mom but even in a comedy Enrique Marciano’s dimwit agent beggars belief. Great advertising for Vegas though! Written and produced by Marc Lawrence (based on characters by him, Caryn Lucas and Katie Ford) and directed by John Pasquin.  It’s been months since I had a good debriefing although I’m really more of a boxers man

 

 

Miss Congeniality (2000)

Miss Congeniality.jpg

It’s not a beauty pageant, it’s a scholarship program. When a domestic terrorist threatens to bomb the Miss United States pageant, the FBI puts Eric Matthews (Benjamin Bratt) in charge and he rushes to find a female agent to go undercover as a contestant, replacing the disqualified Miss New Jersey. Unfortunately, Eric’s partner FBI Special Agent Gracie  Hart (Sandra Bullock) is the only woman who can look the part despite her complete lack of refinement and femininity. She prides herself in being one of the guys and is horrified at the idea of becoming a girly girl.  Going undercover is tough and she’s taken under the wing of camp Brit Victor Melling  (Michael Caine) for a total makeover, while hard as nails pageant director Kathy Morningside (Candice Bergen) steadily assumes the role of suspect in chief … In place of friends and relationships you have sarcasm and a gun. A light and funny take on the transformation arc with a reversal of the usual tropes, this is Bullock’s baby – she produced and shepherded the production straight into our hearts. With its fish out of order scenario intact, this proceeds to reverse expectations – becoming a beauty queen is no walk in the park, demanding starvation, exfoliation and high heels;  masquerading as a socially conscious peace-lover when you’re a gun-wielding action woman gives her more pause than she thought;  while camouflaging her true identity from alpha females who look good in swimwear troubles her as she gains new friends. As the irony ratchets up a notch with William Shatner MC’ing proceedings and the chase complements the on-stage glass harp playing and self-defence exhibition, Bullock shines in a frothy, fun star performance.  After a while you forget why you’re here! Written by regular Bullock collaborator Marc Lawrence with Katie Ford and Caryn Lucas, this is directed by Donald Petrie.  Haven’t you been drinking too much Coppertone?

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951)

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman theatrical.jpg

The measure of love is what one is willing to give up for it. Dutchman Hendrik van der Zee (James Mason) living in the 17th century, is not permitted to rest until he finds a woman who loves him enough to die for him. In 1930s Spain where his body is fished out of the water, he meets the reincarnation of a woman from his dead past Pandora Reynolds (Ava Gardner) and falls in love. The story progresses to a hair-raising reconciliation of past and present as she becomes engaged to besotted racing driver Stephen Cameron (Nigel Patrick) while also juggling with the affections of ardent matador Juan Montalvo (Mario Cabré) whose mother has predicted their union … There’s something beyond my understanding. There’s something mystical about the feeling I have for you. Albert Lewin’s cult film is weirdly compelling and boring all at once:  a woman who drives men wild with desire is herself obsessed with a man who has been condemned to wander the earth forever. This legend is elevated to almost mythic quality in a production that is beautiful, sensuous and strange, and that’s just Gardner. There are lengthy exchanges of meaningful dialogue, lusty looks and a gorgeous shadow hangs over every Technicolor frame. Never mind the melo, feel the drama. That’s not me as I am at all. But it’s what I’d like to be

A Little Something for Your Birthday (2017)

A Little Something for Your Birthday.jpg

Picasso didn’t have two decades of credit card debt to pay. Designer Senna Berges (Sharon Stone) is desperate to find her soulmate.  As she attempts to pursue her passion for fashion, she changes jobs and has occasional relationships and hookups with younger men. Everything seems to be unsettled for the supposedly ditzy Senna until her 46th birthday party where she meets Adam (Tony Goldwyn):  has the free spirit found her match?… Isn’t it the unnecessary things in life that make the human experience so fascinating? We meet Senna in bed with a guy she picked up the night before and as she’s kicking him out the door he’s inviting her to see his band play at the Whisky on Saturday. Good! Writer/director Susan Walter’s screenplay was on the Hollywood Blacklist a decade back – screenplays that were liked by development executives but not produced (yet). This finally occasioned a debut for Walter and how happy for the viewer she’s cast some great women in her film – Ellen Burstyn and the underrated Famke Janssen, with Caitlin FitzGerald who some of us know fondly from Nancy Meyers’ It’s Complicated. Ah, romcoms. In which women who have a great existence still need that Special One to trim their corners and calm them down and make them Find Meaning tethered to a kitchen sink and a pram, as though one man could ever satisfy a woman. How on this good earth could one man ever be enough for the great Sharon Stone?! And why?! Remember what Katharine Hepburn said about marriage:  Why exchange the admiration of many for the criticism of one? So we have the meet sorta cute, the romance (years later), the parting, the re-evaluation, the pukerama of piece to camera interviews (Harry, Sally-ish) with women ruing their mistakes, and the finale with someone closer in age to our heroine than those attentive one-night stands. We meet Senna every year, on her birthday, in a nice structural touch, for seven years, and the relationship hits different beats as she matures and her expectations and work situations alter. Whatever: despite the midlife crisis craziness it still explores a kind of desperation that links Senna’s lack of business acumen with relationship non-savvy. Why is it wrong to have multiple relationships with guys twenty years younger? This certainly doesn’t tell us! Maybe that’s a good thing:  we can find out for ourselves, thank you. Burstyn has some stingers in a salty mother-daughter relationship:  Darla never told me you were dating a foetus; Janssen is the monster upon whom Senna exercises a nice bit of payback;  while Fitzgerald is the romantic competition. It’s pleasant entertainment with a hint of revenge, success and, what a woman wants, a woman eventually gets. Men don’t fall in love with women who don’t take themselves seriously.  Really?

 

A Star is Born (2018)

A Star is Born 2018.png

Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave – 12 notes and the octave repeat. It’s the same story told over and over, forever. All any artist can offer this world is how they see those 12 notes. That’s it. Seasoned musician country rocker Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper) discovers and falls in love with struggling singer/songwriter Ally (Lady Gaga) when she performs in a drag bar. She has just about given up on her dream to make it big as a singer until Jackson coaxes her into the spotlight, bringing her on stage at one of his gigs to perform a song she’s written and he has arranged. He feels sorry for her when she tells him she is constantly told, You sound great, but you don’t look so great. Jackson is playing better than ever despite his crippling tinnitus which means his ears buzz every time he’s onstage and his hearing is diminishing, while Ally shines in the light of his stardom. As Ally’s career takes off when she’s taken under his wing and then makes a deal with the help of her nasty manager Rez (Rafi Gavron) the personal side of their relationship is breaking down. The self-sabotaging Jackson fights an ongoing battle with his own internal demons, drinking, drugging, fighting with his older brother and caretaker Bobby (Sam Elliott) who taught him everything he knew while Ally performs to adoring fans and he struggles with his hearing problem … Look, talent comes everywhere, but having something to say and a way to say it so that people listen to it, that’s a whole other bag. And unless you get out and you try to do it, you’ll never know. That’s just the truth. The fourth incarnation of this story under this title and a remake of the 1976 pop star version, this is an adaptation of a story that first came to the screen under the title What Price Hollywood? a cautionary tale about movie stardom. Electrifying and enervating by turns, I changed my mind about this film probably three times while viewing it. It hits all the screenwriting marks – one hour into running time, things begin to change and at minute sixty-five Ally is taking over and the last hour is rife with issues. A lot of the problems are summed up by the term naturalistic – something that could be described as a substitute for acting technique by one half of the duo at the story’s centre:  scenes are too long and you long for some reaction shots. Jackson’s earthiness is juxtaposed with the savvy pop Ally manufactures at her manager’s behest.  These people are performing for very different audiences but the film is truly at its height when they are duetting despite their contrasting aesthetics. The last seventy-five minutes drag rather repetitively with the suicide scene and its inevitability triggered by Jack’s admission to the psychiatrist that he first attempted it aged 13 which just indicates what we already know. The Saturday Night Live performance scene is poorly judged. The downward spiral needed one more story beat – to show that Jackson had some will to live:  the appeal of this Evergreen story lies in the will to power transformation of the ugly duckling into the swan while her progenitor dies to make way for her celebrity. It seems too easy for one talent to surrender to another. It gains traction however from the powerful songs which were largely co-written by the stars (with other writers including Lukas Nelson, Willie’s son) and their performance in live settings as they tell the story of the relationship and the diverging destinations of the protagonists. It’s all about her really – as we see from the clever titles in blood red echoing Garland and the final shot, a massive close up on Ally’s jolie laide face. It’s more than forty years since the last incarnation which means we missed the Nineties version and one of the issues here which is lightly touched upon is how the nature of celebrity has altered through social media and paparazzi in an entirely new century – it’s handled just enough to remain cinematic without horrible phone screens and irritating typage appearing (thank you to the debutant director for this mercy). Their differing styles are heightened as he looks from his old school perspective at the dancers Rez has deployed to give Ally mass marketability onstage:  it’s not just popularity she wants, it’s world pop domination. What we know about the woman for whom the story now exists is inscribed in the screenplay: Lady Gaga’s own physical attributes – the nose job was covered, oh, a decade ago?! in her real life and it of course alludes to Streisand in the same role; while she (sort of) protests about photos that don’t even look like me and we have seen for ourselves Gaga’s gradually altering appearance offscreen, meat dresses notwithstanding; and her appeal to Little Monsters is managed through her association with drag queens and her makeover with icky red hair (she objects to the suggestion that she turn blonde – why?) and the content of her lyrics; while her voracious desire for multi-platform fame is given a cover by bringing on a vicious British manager to be the bad guy. The central mismatched lovers find their balance in their family issues – with Andrew Dice Clay coming off like a nice version of Amy Winehouse’s dad complete with his delusions of Sinatra-style infamy. Cooper’s problematically deep speaking voice for the role is actually addressed in the script when he tells big brother Sam Elliott I stole your voice which is both an in-joke and a nod to the audience’s familiarity with the western star’s growl;  Cooper’s self-effacing performance – which of course makes Gaga’s star shine brighter – makes this hard to endure since his alcoholic demise is hard-wired into our cultural DNA and sometimes it’s quite impossible to understand what he’s trying to say – ironically, since, his message here is, you need to make your voice heard. It’s well played because the pair are playing off each other’s inspiring talent albeit the vampirism quickly feels one-sided.  Still, it’s quite a double act, no matter how you feel about them. An imperfect but striking piece of work. Written by Eric Roth and Bradley Cooper & Will Fetters (who says he was inspired by what happened to Kurt Cobain), adapted from Moss Hart’s 1954 screenplay which was an inspiration for the 1976 screenplay by John Gregory Dunne & Joan Didion and Frank Pierson.  The 1937 screenplay was by William Wellman and Robert Carson while the original screenplay about star-crossed lovers colliding, What Price Hollywood?, was written by Adela Rogers St Johns and Louis Stevens. Directed by Bradley Cooper.  Maybe it’s time to let the old ways die

Journey Into Fear (1943)

Journey Into FEar.jpg

I’m not indispensable! There are plenty of men with my qualifications! Howard Graham (Joseph Cotten) an American gunnery engineer in Istanbul becomes the target of a Nazi assassination due to his involvement in improving the Turkish navy. With the help of the chief of the Turkish secret police Colonel Haki (an underplaying Orson Welles) who doesn’t want the Germans killing him on his watch, Graham escapes from his hotel where he’s booked in with his wife Stephanie (Ruth Warrick) to board a ship to safety, leaving his wife behind. On board, he encounters a number of passengers, including the dancer Josette Martel (Dolores del Río). However, the passenger Peter Banat (Jack Moss) is not who he appears to be and as we know from the opening scene he’s in Istanbul to carry out an assassination…You’re a ballistics expert and you’ve never fired one of these things?! Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten adapted Eric Ambler’s transeuropean spy novel (with uncredited contributions by Richard Collins) and Welles also co-directed the film (uncredited) with Norman Foster. The protagonist is altered from the novel and there are as many blind alleys as there are red herrings in this confusing mélange but it’s still what Graham Greene would call an entertainment with the Mercury Theater/Citizen Kane crew augmented by the stunning Dolores Del Rio in pussycat headgear. Ah, you have this advantage over the soldier, Mr. Graham. You can run away without being a coward.  There’s a level of wit (including some amusing sound edits and the song I’d Know You Anywhere) in the enterprise which you’d expect from all concerned and a nice role for Everett Sloane as Kopeikin – whoever he might be! Despite its being butchered by RKO (Ambler reportedly didn’t even recognise the story as his own at a screening) and its original narration being removed (restored for a screening at Locarno some years back) there are still enough flourishes to flatter Welles in his detective/thriller-directing incarnation and a very enjoyable high stakes finale. You are going to hospital. You are going to have typhus!

 

A Woman’s Secret (1949)

A Womans Secret.jpg

I’ll admit mister that I’ve heard stories that make less sense than that. Popular singer Marian Washburn (Maureen O’Hara) suddenly and inexplicably loses her voice, causing a shake-up at the nightclub where she performs. Her worried but loyal piano playe Luke Jordan (Melvyn Douglas) helps to promote a new, younger singer Susan Caldwell (Gloria Grahame) to temporarily replace Marian. Susan finds some early acclaim after being coached and improved, expanding her very limited range, but decides to leave the club after a few performances. Soon after Susan quits, she is shot and Marian becomes a suspect, telling the police that she shot Susan in a fury when she told her she was giving up singing, forfeiting the future she herself could have had. Luke counts on Detective Fowler (Jay C. Flippen) being able to prove Marian’s innocence Mrs. Fowler never seems to realise that crime goes on twenty-four hours a day.  Adapted from Vicki Baum’s Mortgage on Life by producer and screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz, this was Nicholas Ray’s debut feature, although They Live By Night was released first. The constant flashbacks make more of a mystery than there really is, with O’Hara particularly good as the woman who is basically scorned – by another woman. Their contrasting performing styles carry the film. There are some nice visual touches but hardly of the variety that mark out Ray’s later work and this is rather a perverse noir rendered more straight backstage melodrama by virtue of the presence of Douglas who never lets things get too strange. Mary Philips – the first Mrs Humphrey Bogart – is terrific as Mrs Fowler, the person who gets to the bottom of it all in a story that throws up some bright dialogue.  I’ve told you we’re going to keep talking about this until we stumble on something or other that will clear it up

The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

The Killling of a Sacred Deer.png

Our two children are dying in the other room, but yes, I can make you mashed potatoes tomorrow. Cardiothoracic surgeon Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell) secretly befriends a teenage boy Martin Lang (Barry Keoghan) with a connection to his past. He introduces the boy to his family, his wife Anna (Nicole Kidman) and son Bob (Sunny Suljic) and daughter Kim (Raffey Cassidy) who begin to fall mysteriously ill… Something to put an end to all of this. That’s what I want. Can you do that? You do realize Steven, we’re in this situation because of you Those ancient Greeks knew how to plot a good play:  Euripides might be turning in his grave but Greek auteur Yorgos Lanthimos likes to upend expectations and in this interpretation of Iphigenia which we have seen a couple of times in the work of Taylor Sheridan in the Sicario films we are in the realm of the family romance in the Freudian sense. Those guys are great screenwriters! Adapted by the director with Efthymis Filippou, we are transported into a world like our own but slightly off, flatter and affectless with performances that have narrowed to the point of dramatic device. There are disturbing moments:  the opening, during a failed open heart surgery;  when Anna plays as though under anaesthetic to turn on Steven; Martin’s mother (Alicia Silverstone) coming on to Steven;  the revenge that Martin exerts on Steven and what Steven does to carry it through.  Keoghan’s entire presence is disturbing, only hinted at by his odd appearance.  The whole narrative is probably a joke about doctors playing God. Lanthimos’ films are an acquired taste and it is probably through the well-judged performances that the psychological horror shines through the black comedy and vice versa – despite its origins, this is drama without history, backstory or future.  A surgeon never kills a patient. An anaesthesiologist can kill a patient, but a surgeon never can