I know that this is silly (I’m 68 years old, fergawdsake)- but as soon as retailers start touting their “back to school” sales, I still get that familiar twinge of dread. It’s a vague sensation of social anxiety, coupled with a melancholy resignation to the fact that from now until next June, I’ll have to go to bed early. By the way, now that I’m allowed to stay up with the grownups, why do I drift off in my chair at 8pm every night? It’s another one of life’s cruel ironies. At any rate, here are my Top 10 show-and-tell picks: The Blackboard Jungle– This 1955 social drama is the “anti-Happy Days”. An idealistic English teacher (Glenn Ford) tackles an inner-city classroom full of leather-jacketed malcontents (or as they used to call them – “juvenile delinquents”) who would rather steal hubcaps and rumble than, say, study the construct of iambic pentameter. The film still retains considerable power, despite dated trappings. Vic Morrow and Sidney Poitier are surly and unpredictable as the alpha “toughs” in the classroom.
Saturday Night at the Movies
The Assassination Bureau (Arrow Video) – This comedy-adventure from eclectic British director Basil Deardon (Sapphire, The League of Gentlemen, Victim, All Night Long) isn’t for all tastes; it’s one of those 1960s psychedelic trains wrecks with a huge international cast and an elusive central theme that is nonetheless compelling…if only for its sheer commitment to weirdness. Adapted by Michael Relph from an unfinished Jack London novel, the story is set in 1908. Diana Rigg (fresh off her 2-season tenure with The Avengers) plays a feminist journalist who is assigned by her editor (Telly Savalas) to investigate a secret organization led by Oliver Reed that specializes in assassinating oligarchs (not willy-nilly, they do have a moral code…of sorts). Granted, it’s draggy in spots, but there are some imaginative set pieces; particularly a battle royale that takes place aboard a zeppelin. The mashup of 007 and steampunk recalls the 60s TV series The Wild Wild West. Nicely shot by Geoffrey Unsworth. Also featuring Curd Jürgens, Phillipe Noiret, and Beryl Reid.
You’ve heard the one about cockroaches and Cher surviving the Apocalypse? You can add this item to that list: Maxell UD XL-II 90 cassettes. I was going through some musty boxes the other day and found a stash of mix tapes that I’ve had since the 70s and 80s. I’ll be damned if they didn’t sound just as good as the day I recorded them (My theory is that they are manufactured from the same material they use for “black boxes”). I was into putting together “theme sets” long before I got into the radio biz. My mix tapes were popular with friends; I’d make copies on demand, and name them (of course). One of my faves was “The Oh My God I am So Stoned Tape”. I don’t think that requires explanation; I mean, it was the 70s and I was a long-haired stoner music geek. Nearly 50 years later, I’m still putting together theme sets. It is my métier. Kind of sad, really (grown man and all). Anyway …turn off the news (it’s depressing!), turn down the lights, do some deep breathing, and let “The Oh My God I am So Stoned Tape 2023” wash anxiety away.
*sigh* One by one, the giants continue to fall: William Friedkin, the Oscar-winning director behind The French Connection and The Exorcist who was one of the most admired directors to emerge from a wave of brilliant filmmakers who made their mark in the 1970s, died Monday. He was 87. Friedkin died in Los Angeles, his wife, former producer and studio head Sherry Lansing, said. His pictures, which also included 1977’s Sorcerer, 1985’s To Live and Die in L.A. and 2006’s Bug, were marked by an exceptional visual eye, a willingness to take what might have been a genre subject and treat it with high seriousness and a sense of how sound could add a subterranean layer of dread, mystery and dissonance to his stories — a haunted and haunting quality that lifted his visceral works into another realm, conveying a preternatural sense of “fear and paranoia, both old friends of mine,” as he said in his 2013 memoir, The Friedkin Connection. Fear and paranoia. I’m not a religious person, but I distinctly remember jumping out of my seat and shouting “JESUS CHRIST!” about a dozen times the first time I saw The Exorcist.
*sigh* Everything old is nude again. From Sam Adams’ Slate review of Ira Sach’s Passages: Movie theaters are full, Eurodance is big: Close your eyes and it’s the 1990s again. Adding to the throwback vibe, there’s a new controversy about sex in movies. The story of a love triangle between a German film director (played by Franz Rogowski), his husband (Ben Whishaw), and an elementary school teacher (Adèle Exarchopoulos), Ira Sachs’ Passages premiered to strong reviews at Sundance but was given an NC-17 rating by the Motion Picture Association for its explicit sex scenes. The film’s distributor, Mubi, has opted to release it in theaters unrated, but not before a round of interviews in which Sachs called the MPA’s decision “a form of cultural censorship” and pointed to the ratings board’s long history of disproportionately stigmatizing sex, especially when it’s between same-sex partners. Created in 1990 to replace the disreputable X, the NC-17 rating, which bars admission to anyone under the age of 17, has fallen almost completely out of use in recent years.
Malaria’s not the only surprise comeback of 2023. Gold heists are still a thing: Police in Canada are investigating one of the largest gold heists in the country’s history, after more than C$20m ($15m; £12m) of the precious metal and other valuable goods were stolen from Toronto’s airport [this past April]. […] In a brazen pilferage, a “high-value container” disappeared while it was being transported to a cargo holding facility near Canada’s busiest airport. Authorities say the thieves gained access to the public side of a warehouse near Toronto Pearson International Airport that was unmanned by airport security. The theft, which is still under investigation, was an isolated and “very rare” incident, police say. While a heist of that magnitude is indeed rare, a look at Canadian history shows it’s not the first. The Toronto Pearson International Airport has often been used as a hub for gold mined in the province of Ontario, and in September 1952 it was the scene of a mysterious heist. Back then, Pearson was known by another name: Malton Airport.
“The atomic bomb made the prospect of future war unendurable. It has led us up those last few steps to the mountain pass; and beyond there is a different country.” -J. Robert Oppenheimer [Shame mode] All the times I’ve zipped by the I-82 turn-off to Richland, Washington while driving on I-90 and thought “hey, isn’t that where that Hanford superfund nuclear thingy is?” I’ve never stopped to ponder its historical significance. Adjacent to the Hanford Nuclear Site that was built in the early 1940s to house nuclear government workers at the height of the Manhattan Project, Richland is, in essence, a company town; a true “atomic city” with a problematic legacy. Then again, according to Irene Lusztig’s absorbing documentary Richland (which I caught at last year’s Tribeca Film Festival), how “problematic” depends on who you talk to. Many current residents don’t see why anyone would fuss over the local high school football team’s “mascot”, which is …a mushroom cloud.
A GM I once worked for was fond of saying “everybody’s got two businesses…their own, and show biz” (usually under his breath after a meeting with one of our advertisers). It would be nice, but it is true that everybody can’t be a “star”…even for those whose only business is show biz. Take actors. This may be a difficult sell to the average working stiff, but not every person who acts for a living commands a 7-figure (or more) salary per-project; they’re living paycheck-to-paycheck like the rest of us. In fact, out of the 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild/American Federation of Radio and Television Artists, only around 2% make a living from acting jobs. As you are likely aware, this past Thursday SAG-AFTRA joined the members of the Writers Guild of America on the picket lines (the WGA has been on strike now for several months). The last time this confluence occurred was in 1960. And this time out, the issues at hand are more …complex: SAG-AFTRA and the major studios remain at odds on a dizzying array of issues, as film and TV actors hit the picket lines Friday for the first time since 1980.
Ah, Summertime …when the livin’ is easy and the movin’- pitcher Pickens are Slim: Now, I have no personal beef against crowd-pleasing spectacles featuring transformers, superheroes, archeologists, little mermaids, teenage krakens, or grown-up conspiracy theorists who battle fantasy villains in alternate universes; but if you are in the mood for something more off the beaten path that, you know …isn’t primarily targeting 15 year-old males-summer movie season can be exasperating. If you are of like mind, no worries. I’ve been covering film festivals for Hullabaloo since 2006. So if you’d rather pass on Indy Jones and satisfy your “indie” Jones instead, I’ve combed the archives and curated a “Best of the Festivals Festival” that you can program from the comfort of your living room (since its acronym is BOFF, I thought it best not to use that as a header). These 15 fine selections are all available via various platforms. Add popcorn and enjoy!
Since it’s now officially summer, I thought it would be a good excuse to curate a list of my top 10 seasonal favorites; movies that I think capture the essence of these “lazy, hazy, crazy” days…infused with the sights, the sounds, the smells, of summer. So, here you go…as per usual, in alphabetical order: Jazz on a Summer’s Day– Bert Stern’s groundbreaking documentary about the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival is not so much a “concert film” as it is a fascinating and colorful time capsule of late 50s American life. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of gorgeously filmed numbers spotlighting the artistry of Thelonius Monk, Anita O’Day, Dinah Washington, Louis Armstrong, etc. and the performances are outstanding. The effect is like “being there” in 1958 Newport on a languid summer’s day. If you’ve ever attended an outdoor music festival, you know half the fun is people-watching, and Stern obliges.