Viewing: Unknown. Probably third all the way through
Director: Brian De Palma
It's very hard to say "I love Dressed to Kill (1980)" with a straight face, but I do think De Palma's pivot to a more explicit eroticism from the staid suggestion of such in the Hitchockian thriller is worth at least looking at. At this point in his career, De Palma's movies read a lot like film school theory classes come to life, but I can't really remember our courses ever highlighting De Palma. Maybe he's too on the nose with some of this stuff. Maybe he wasn't "classic" enough.
But, yeah, what Hitch only hinted at, De Palma is pleased to put up on screen. Your mileage may vary was to whether this works for you, but in an era where cinema was where adults went for entertainment, and with De Palma dealing neither with the Hayes Code nor Hitch's pre-War sense of decorum, just be aware the film is frank about illicit sex and sexual kinks, and there's no shortage of female nudity (that's an Angie Dickinson body double in those key shots there at the opening, btw).
I don't know what the opposite is of "catching lightning in a bottle", but Who's That Girl? (1987) is here to make me wonder what that might be, or if we're in need of a new phrase.
Look. If you were a straight dude coming of age in the 1980's, you might not have talked about it, but chances are you spent a lot of time thinking about Madonna. Not as part of the cultural discourse that somehow always placed Madonna in the middle of the po-discourse Venn Diagram and which was mostly nonsense, but for other reasons. There's twenty seconds of video here which will help you understand.
So, yes. Madonna. By 1987 she was a marketing and musical force who decided to dabble in acting. Warner Bros., who was in the Madonna business and made both music and movies, said "sure, whatever". Madonna somehow landed on a script about a girl getting out of prison who has to prove she's innocent, and decided this would be the movie she'd make.
If catching lightning in a bottle is an unique combination of factors that come together and create a very special film, this is a mix of predictable hackery paired with an unprepared celebrity who doesn't know the difference between fame and talent needed to pull off a project.
Back in 2018, I recall a story breaking on the news about 12 Thai soccer players and their coach trapped in a cave that had been flooded by summer rains. I'm going to be completely candid: I heard the details and immediately tuned out the story afterwards. Everything I heard told me that this story would end with 12 dead children and a dead coach. And probably some rescue crew. In what seemed a bleak year (ha ha... how little we knew then!), signing myself up for updates on what seemed a deathwatch just seemed morbid.
And then someone told me "no, they got out. Yes, all of them."
I read some details of what had happened and it seemed like madness, but I wrote it off as "boy, I guess Navy SEALS really know their stuff."
Forget all of that.
The Rescue (2021), knows you know those broad strokes, but recreates the timeline of the story through interviews, actual footage from the participants, some occasional recreation footage (using the actual participants), news footage and some excellent graphics. And the story is both one-hundred times more unbelievable than you're expecting and ultimately, that same level of magnitude a story of the best in humanity.
I hesitate to talk too much about the logistics or even about the participants, but it is fascinating to find out that the main divers to assist in the search and rescue were private citizens, mostly from the UK, cave diving hobbyists who put everything on the line for this effort. And you may ask yourself "what sort of person scuba dives in caves?" And that would be a *great* question, because these are not extreme sports enthusiasts, but an assortment of misfits and the kind of people who will go into a body of water completely surrounded by rock on all sides.
It doesn't matter that you know that the kids made it out. The movie broke me with footage of a young mother standing at the cave's mouth calling to her son to come home, and just kept whittling me down from there. Yes, the divers are remarkable, but 13 boys also held together, monumental efforts took place to move rivers, to find alternatives and support the ongoing work.
I very much remember the drama of Baby Jessica's rescue from a well in West Texas and how the people of West Texas pulled together to save one child. Here, an international collective and thousands of locals pitched in.
Give it a shot. You might momentarily have faith in us as a species. You might also believe some cosmic convergence is possible.
I don't remember not knowing who Meat Loaf was, which makes sense as I was 2 years old when Bat Out of Hell was released. And, of course, I appreciated his performance in Rocky Horror, and reteaming with Jim Steinman for Bat Out of Hell II.
But I still remember one Christmas when I was in college my brother and I slipping out after the folks and company went to bed and we headed for a bar that had been there forever, with a jukebox that hadn't seen much rotation since it had been put in place. It was a shitty little bar with a clear brand of clientele which we didn't really match, most of whom seemed to be regulars and knew each other, and just as our beers hit the table, the jukebox started with Bat Out of Hell and someone had put in money to play the entire album in order.
I don't know why, but that night I became totally sold on that album.
Whatever world Jim Steinman wrote songs for (Steinman passed in April) and Meat Loaf sings about is a world that resonates like hell with me. And, apparently, the be-mulleted denizens of Molly Maguire's Irish Pub in Spring, Texas circa Christmas 1995. But, yeah, it's a musical theater version of rock and roll, where the already heightened melodrama of romance, heartbreak and all the usual faire of radio rock is raised to rock opera levels. And at the center, Meat Loaf's sincerity anchors what sh/could be absurd, putting a broken hero at the middle of it.
Here's to you and one of the best selling albums of all-time, sir. The record seems like an unlikely candidate to grab that mantle, and I'm so glad it has.
Mr. Loaf also acted. A LOT. His occasional health issues and personal demons may have kept him from some choices and maybe off the live stage, but he leaves behind not just his music but plentiful roles and screentime.
Anderson's career was weird and varied, and I'm still mad I didn't choose to go see him when I was in Las Vegas and he was performing. Anderson's comedy was generally very warm-hearted, and I enjoyed him when I did see his stand-up, but for the past few years I associated him much more with his TV work, especially on FX's Baskets, one of the most criminally underwatched shows of the past decade.
Almost as soon as Anderson broke big (right around the release of Coming to America, in which he had a supporting part), he was very candid in interviews about his less-than-ideal childhood, and turned a less trauma-inducing version of that into his cartoon, Life With Louie.
I'll miss knowing Louie Anderson is out there. For all the comedians out there supposedly wrestling with darkness, Anderson clearly could be included, but it didn't seem to make him cover himself in armor and project cruelty through his routines or performances.
In the end, he won an Emmy for creating Christine Baskets, one of the most sympathetic characters to cross my TV screen. What was ostensibly a show about a man-child in crisis became a show about the evolution of an aging mother - it was like he was able to channel everything that came before directly into that role.
Despite no small amount of Madonna-interest, I've never seen this movie. Jamie informs me it is now on Amazon streaming, so we're gonna Watch Party this nonsense. I don't even know what it's about. Madonna. Griffin Dunne. A mountain lion?
As much as I like all of Christopher Guest's work, this is my favorite. Maybe. That'll change next time I watch another of his films. But Best in Show (2000) has... Jennifer Coolidge. I mean, that's a big advantage on everything. But I think this is also the first Jane Lynch role. And, of course, the movie inadvertently changed the course of actual dog show broadcasts forever by inserting Fred Willard as one of the commentators of the fictional Mayflower dog show (The National Dog Show, upon which the movie is based, began including Seinfeld's John O'Hurley shortly after. And he's great!).
Look, you can IMDB the names in the movie, and they're all great. But I do think that the third act is almost entirely the day of the show is a great idea and manages to play through what we've seen of the characters to this point and manages to remain hilarious (Posey's meltdown in the hotel and then the pet store is a highlight for me) while also wrapping up the narrative.
The characters are so specific but instantly understandable. And short Posey and Michael Hitchcock's characters, the movie isn't ever really dragging anyone - but even those characters are so... ridiculous, you want to watch them, anyway. Everyone's kind of goofy and absurd and even if a bit prickly, you get it. Everyone is adding something specific and really bringing their A-game (even Will Sasso with maybe 2 minutes of screentime, has a deeply memorable bit).
I can't be objective about the movie. I've seen it maybe 15 or 20 times, even if it's been a while. Not everything has aged gracefully, but I think it holds up.
In August of 1995, I entered into Film I, joining the "production" track within my university's film school. That Fall would see a lot of changes, and I mostly remember a lot of exhaustion, a lot of learning-on-the-fly and getting to handle actual film cameras for the first time. As well as editing, cutting and screening work I did mostly in collaboration with others.
Living in Oblivion (1995) was released during the middle of the 90's indie boom, and maybe was just a little too indie to break huge, but it does seem like a movie that a lot of people saw back then or since. A film about filmmaking, but not in that way that Hollywood likes to reward with Oscars, Living in Oblivion hit all of us in that Film 1 class where we lived, realizing our dumb little misadventures behind the camera were just how this business was going to work.
The year is about 1978 or 79. For reasons I cannot remember, my mom has to keep me busy while she deals with something else in the house. I am about 3 or 4. My mom does something she never does: she puts me in my folks' room and turns on the TV and says "look at that til I get back". I am left alone with a black and white movie on the TV.
The movie is well underway, I don't understand what's happening and then this shit appears on screen:
I lose it. Giant floating menacing brains with glowing eyes are not something I yet take for granted.
