When You Get Caught Between the Moon and Pointless Remakes

(Before I get down to me real complaint o' the day, I must commend Bad Ronald for his excellent and incisive article on James Cameron's claim that Piranha 3-D is cheapening the medium of 3-D.  Seriously...how do you cheapen 3-D, Mr. 7 foot tall blue cat people?)

On to the rant of the moment.  They're doing it to me again.  They're remaking a movie that I love, a movie that was already perfect, or at least as close to perfect as a film can get.

They've started on a remake of Arthur, the classic early 80s gem that starred Dudley Moore, Liza Minnelli, and John Gielgud.

To be fair, not all remakes suck.  And they have gone the British acting royalty route once again when casting the role of Arthur's servant-cum-caretaker.  Now, rather than a stodgy butler, the character is a stodgy nanny played by the great Helen Mirren.  The title role will be played by Russell Brand, who's about as far from Dudley Moore as one can get, at least if we're discussing height.  Greta Gerwig, an actress mostly known for her independent film work, takes over the Liza Minnelli role.

As I said, not all remakes suck.  But it seems that, in the past few years, an overwhelming number of them have.  Granted, this one comes from a script by Peter Baynham, who has previously been nominated for a screenwriting Oscar...but that nomination was for Borat.  Granted, the script also passed through the hands of the writing staff of the acclaimed, Emmy-winning television comedy Modern Family thanks to the fact that Jason Winer, the director of this remake, was also a primary director on the first season of that show.  But then the script went back to Baynham.

I want this to be all right.  I want to believe that Arthur can be reimagined and remade into a film that will be both undeniably modern and a loving remembrance of the original.

Who'm I kidding?  I have almost no faith in the Hollywood machine anymore.

The Silent Majority: John Gilbert

As I mentioned in the first post of this feature, I had been planning for a while, once I got this blog started, to do a series on my favorite stars of the silent screen.  The impetus to finally do it (as well as the feature title) came from a Facebook friend who has recently gotten very interested in silent films herself.  In particular she's developed a fascination with John Gilbert.  So here, in the latest edition of The Silent Majority, that fine actor will be showcased.
Elizabeth, this one's for you.

Self-Indulgence: Christina Hendricks

It occurs to me that my recent post about how the entertainment industry is destroying all the beautiful, healthy, natural looking women was a little bitter and cynical.  After all, there's one gal out there with a real figure just made of curves and she's making a name for herself.  (The only fake thing about her is her hair color.  She's a natural blonde, but she's gone red for years.  Even better!)
Christina Hendricks is currently best known for her role as Joan on AMC's Mad Men, but she's appeared in plenty of other programs, and she's sure to go far (I hope!)
So here then, a few images of one gal who's keeping it real in the entertainment industry.

A Life of Horror and Wonder

213 years ago, at twenty minutes past 11 on the night of 30 August, 1797, a baby girl was born to a pair of intellectuals residing in Somers Town, London, England.  She was named Mary, after her mother.

In less than two weeks, the mother was dead.

Little Mary grew up surrounded by the intellectual and literary figures who made up her father's social circle.  Except for difficulty in getting along with the woman her father married when she was four, Mary grew up fairly happy, close to her half-sister Frances and stepsister Clara (better known as Fanny and Claire).


And then, when Mary was a teenager, she met and fell in love with a radical poet, a young man from the landed gentry.  His name was Percy, and when he and Mary fell in love, he was already married.  To escape his wife and the scrutiny of society, the young couple ran off to the Continent, taking Claire with them.


Things only went downhill from there.

This Vain World...

So I read something on Facebook that upset me.  (I'm sure those of you who know me are shocked.  I'm cheesed off over some random internet thing!)

Shirley Manson asked her fans if it's possible that she's insane because she, unlike some of her friends and a large chunk of people in the entertainment industry, refuses to do the whole plastic surgery/Botox/"oh just go and pave your face already" thing.  Prior to this, Shirley has always come out strongly against that sort of physical tampering, at least for herself.  I suspect this sudden insecurity could be the result of a recent birthday, but it brings up a few important points for me.

I'm not against the idea of people changing themselves physically in any way that they find personally fulfilling.  Piercings, tattoos, nose jobs, body modification...whatever you're okay with, whatever you want, that's great.  However, I am against the way that the media continues to push a ridiculous and often impossible ideal of beauty, even with all of the backlash and outcry against such portrayals.

Once upon a time, it was all right for entertainers to look fairly like the selves they had been born as.  Oh, sure, someone like Fanny Brice might have a nose job, but a lot of the time, make-up and good lighting hid a multitude of "imperfections".  Then came Hollywood, and starlets had to be thinner, and thinner, and thinner...because the camera ads weight...and they've continued to get thinner and thinner until they look like a crop of starved urchins.  Now, I'll grant you that some people are naturally thin; but when you have to be so thin that you begin to look ill, that's too far.

After the jump: some photos of the way women in the entertainment industry were once allowed to look, along with commentary on how they might end up now.

The Silent Majority: Olive Thomas, Colorized

This was sent along by Elizabeth (the same friend who gave me the name for this feature) after my latest Silent Majority post about the Pickford family and their associates.

Lovely, wasn't she?  The coloring of this portrait really captures the deep violet-blue of her eyes.

The Silent Majority: Tragedy and Triumph with the Pickford Kids and Co.

Mary Pickford is one of the best known stars that the silent film era produced.  What many fans don't realize is that she was not the only Pickford to make it in pictures; she was simply the one who lasted.  Her brother, Jack, was, for a time, a juvenile heartthrob and might have been a matinee idol of the first caliber had personal problems and alcoholism not derailed him.  Sister Lottie was rated the weakest of the siblings talent-wise, but she still managed an output of around 25 films over the course of several years.  Of course, all three had made names for themselves on the stage before that, touring their native Canada and the U.S. with a number of companies.

Here then, some pictures of Mary, Lottie, Jack, along with Olive Thomas, Douglas Fairbanks Sr., Marilyn Miller, and others.

The Silent Majority: Clara Bow and Louise Brooks

I had been wanting to do a semi-regular series on this blog featuring some of my favorite stars of the silent film era; the new interest of a friend in silents has led me to go ahead, as well as giving me a title (thanks, Elizabeth).  So here it is, ladies and gents, the first enstallment of a picture feature I'll call The Silent Majority.

(NSFW due to one instance of what I like to call tasteful nudity!)

Clara Bow is still remembered today by many as "The It Girl," while Louise Brooks was, until recently, often forgotten by all except film historians and a group of loyal, dedicated fans.  Clara and Louise were both influential as far as the "look" of the flappers and jazz babies of the 1920s.  Chances are, if you've seen a film set in the 1920s or 1930s and there are any pictures of then-popular film stars featured, then you've seen both of these ladies.

Hungry Like the Wahrwilf Wuhrwulf Werewolf

(A companion piece to my earlier article about vampires...)

It is no surprise that, when humanity began to romanticize the vampire, the werewolf would also be enthusiastically reimagined and reinvented.
Where once the two sorts of creature were on something of an equal footing, being night-walking terrors that one wouldn't want to tangle with, they are now rather like opposite sides of the same coin flipped in the dark of a moonlit night.  The vampire is now most often seen as the slick, sophisticated monster, a gentleman (or woman) out for blood, seducing their victims along the way.  The werewolf, on the other hand, is ever the animal, a person transformed, whether through chance, fate, or will, into a ravening beast.

Lindsay Lohan, Symbolism, and...Wait, She's Licking a Gun...is That Hot?

By now, we've all seen the infamous Lindsay Lohan poster for the new film Machete.

I've kind of been interested in the idea of Machete since it was just a phony trailer that ran alongside the films Planet Terror and Death Proof.  It looks to be an interesting throwback, just as those films were: unabashed trash and cheese.

The hilarious thing about all of this is the way the entertainment news reporters are handling all of this.  They're treating this poster, Lindsay as gun-licking nun, as the "redemption" that they all really, really hope she'll find, m'kay?  NOT!  They don't want her to redeem herself anymore than a good deal of the public does.  I mean, I'd like to see her clean up and get back to her career or just her life.  Most people, however, just ADORE a total wreck.  And the entertainment reporters...well, they wouldn't be out of jobs, but their shows wouldn't have half the ratings they do if there weren't people like La Lohan struggling to deal with fame and success.

So, in sum, the above is just a freaking movie poster.  Yes, Lindsay plays a drug-addict-turned-nun in the film, but then, she's an actress.  She's played a lot of different types of roles.  This one was just another job.

Can we all move on now?

Self-Indulgence: Ladies I Adore...

This is one of those droolerific posts where I admit to being incredibly homosexual in the way that some women are.
Over the course of my pop culture obsession, I've found myself drawn to certain actresses for any number of reasons.  So, after the jump, here are just a few of the lovely ladies who are tops in my book.

Why Vampires are OHMIGOD SOOO Romantic.

(This post started life as a set of comments on the blog of a friend who just doesn't understand why people so romanticize a bunch of walking corpses.  It was really an attempt to explain why they are romanticized when, face it...they're just dead people who drink blood.)

Vampires have long been romanticized.  However, if one reads up on some of the more ancient, classic vampire legends, particularly those from Eastern Europe, it quickly becomes clear that a vampire isn't a beautiful, romantic creature; it's a freaking WALKING CORPSE!  As one scholar put it, originally, being bitten by a vampire was about as romantic as being bitten by your dead Uncle Boris.

The concept of the vampire as more than just a walking corpse came about because, as well as being immortal, they were well-nigh invulnerable (fire was bad...and decapitation...but most other stuff was just a scratch. Oh, and staking wasn't originally to kill them...it was to pin them down so you COULD kill them...so you had to drive the stake ALL THE WAY THROUGH.) Invulnerability=you don't rot=you are eternally young/the way you were, which is a very attractive prospect to some.

Shameless Self Promotion and Me!

Hey all, started a poetry blog.  Read it or...or...ya know, not.

Quickly! Shield your Children from Everyday Human Behavior in Cinema!

Let me start this off by saying that I am not a supporter of the tobacco industry or of the idea of cigarette smoking.  I spent much of my life up to earlier this year seeing the effect that smoking had on my mother's health.  I do not smoke.  I will never smoke.  However, I am not against the idea that it is the right of each adult individual to decide whether or not they will smoke.

Recently, there's been a big flap because of talk that films which show any scene in which a character smokes may be forced to carry an R rating.

Uh.  'Scusa me?

Upstairs and Downstairs and Back Again

I remember clearly the very first time I ever saw an episode of the classic British television drama Upstairs Downstairs.  I was a small child, no more than 3 or 4 years old, and the show was being re-run on our local public television station.  The very first scene I remember seeing, one scene that stuck with me for years when I couldn't readily see the show, was the very first scene of the first episode: a young woman, Sarah (Pauline Collins), goes to the front door of 165 Eaton Place to apply for the position of a house-parlourmaid.  This being London in the year 1903 when people below a certain social status did not dare try to enter a posh house via the front door, Sarah was quickly directed down to the area door by the butler, Hudson (Gordon Jackson).

I've always loved shows set in various historical time periods, and in my own opinion, Upstairs Downstairs was one of the best of those ever made.  The first item I ever purchased with money from my first ever income tax return was the complete series on DVD, accompanied by the single-season spin-off Thomas and Sarah.

After moving from the house where I spent the first 21 years of my life, my mother and I had no regular television service for a time.  For filmed entertainment, we relied on my somewhat-extensive DVD collection, and Upstairs Downstairs was one of our regular go-to shows when we wanted to really watch something we knew we'd love.

I haven't watched Upstairs Downstairs since before Mum passed away in February, but I still have my DVDs and I may pull them out soon and give them a watch.  You see, I'd been hearing rumors that there were plans to sort of continue the show, reincorporating the beloved character of head house-parlourmaid Rose (Jean Marsh) into a new household at Eaton Place 6 years after the end of the original show.  Now normally, I'm not one for reboots, remakes, and sequels, but when this one comes along, I'll watch.

And I know my Mum would have too.

FINALLY digitizing most of my record collection...that means MORE RARE AUDIO FOR YOU!

As I've noted before, I'm a collector of older recordings, mostly vinyl albums.  I'll pick an album or single because of the performer(s), the cover art...and sometimes it's the luck of the draw.

I've purchased, on occasion, small lots of 45 singles and 33 1/3 EPs, and I've found some interesting and great music thanks to the gambles I've taken.

This offering comes from a French 45 (Panorama imprint).  It's Katia Valère singing Itsy Bitsy Petit Bikini b/w Andre Girard directing an orchestra in the traditional French instrumental Marjolaine Rock.

 

You've probably heard the A side in English, but it sounds just as swingingly catchy in French, and the B side is a dancy little number.  Be prepared for the traditional hissing and other sounds of a record...this is why I love old recordings...the disturbances make them so individual from copy to copy.

This is a pretty nice, clear recording.  Should you care for a listen, you can get both sides and the sleeve scan here.

Frankenstein, Marfan's Syndrome, and Everything

I've always been a fan of the actor Boris Karloff.  He had a haunting voice, a graceful style of movement, and some of the most expressive eyes I've ever seen.

Karloff's eyes in his classic role in The Mummy


Of course, Karloff will always be best remembered for his portrayal of Frankenstein's creature in three films throughout the 1930s.  It just so happens that I'm also a big fan of most anything to do with Frankenstein.  Boris gave the first portrayal of the creature in a style that was in step with the original novel.  Though his incarnation was incapable of much speech, the Karloff creature was sympathetic; a lost, sad being who never asked to be born and only wanted to be accepted by humanity.

Where Glory Ran Screaming From the Room...

When you're addicted to pop culture, you sometimes find yourself, like many addicts, sucked into a sleazy underbelly, a world of terror and amazement and bizarre things such as most of the world probably never imagines.  You might find yourself up 'til all hours watching some movie so strange and shocking that it would drive a clinically insane person right back into the arms of sweet, sweet Mama "Sanity".  You might pick up and read (with delight) some book which, were you not a pop culture addict, you would fling across the room in disgust.

And sometimes...yes, sometimes, my friends, you get sucked into the world of outsider music and "rare audio".  Everything from vanity recordings (where someone actually bought studio time so they could release an album) to old answering machine tapes and hours and hours of unfunny prank phone calls.  Yes, this is the kind of stuff some of us live for.

Radio station WFMU has twice now (once in 2003, once in 2007) done something they call the 365 days project.  Basically, every day for one year, someone posts a strange, rare, bizarre, or just funny recording to the project, and the files are left up for download indefinitely (barring an artist request that they be removed).

I didn't discover the little gem I want to tell you about on the 365 project, but that's how I managed to actually hear the amazing LP that is Esther Lee's "Where Glory Began".  First, as a little taste, I'll let you soak up the cover art of this amazing recording.