All art from the pre-code days of the under-rated ACG comic book Adventures Into the Unknown.
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The Astronaut Farmer (2006), starring Billy Bob Thornton, written by the Polish brothers. I laughed myself sick at this stupid movie, but I know I was supposed to salute the flag and/or cry a river instead. I never waste more than ten minutes on new American studio swill anymore-- after all these years, I can tell when I'm going to hate something right away-- but I couldn't bring myself to stop watching this, it was that bad. A failed astronaut builds a NASA-quality rocket in his barn, so he can finally take that ride into space. Oh, my sides!
The main character is played with hilarious solemnity by its star (go back to killers, Billy Bob!), and the script is so sub-normal in intelligence it must have been fuelled by a diet of Play-Doh and boogers. Every heartwarming cliche since movies had color is sampled, while outrageous acts of selfishness and idiocy are portrayed as traits to be admired. If you want to have a good time with your friends making fun of a terrible movie, you can't go wrong with this grotesque piece of feel-good.
Billy Bob sez, "Take this, Sling Blade fans!"
The Park Is Mine (1986 - Canada), starring Tommy Lee Jones. If you want a good ridiculous movie to laugh at (and, I suspect, also with), this early cable gem will fill the bill. Billy Bob, er, Tommy Lee is at his best as a loveable-but-crazed vet who wants to teach Americans about compassion by blowing up Central Park. Silly as this cheap little cable pioneer is, it's more fun than the last movie you saw in a theater. Not only that, it also stars Yaphet Kotto when he still sported his own hair.
All picture clues this week. See if you know the film they're from.
Pretty easy, huh? Then send me an email by late Sunday night with the title. If you're right, expect to bask in the glow of seeing your name in next week's Constitutionally-protected winner's circle.
Last week's quiz movie in question was the 1945 American version of Agatha Christie's classic who-done-it, And Then There Were None, adapted by veteran screenwriter Dudley Nichols (The Informer, Stagecoach) and directed by the great French director Rene Clair. It's a near-perfect old-fashioned mystery film filled with genuine surprises, and a rare one that continues to entertain with repeated viewings, even after you know all the answers.
It's hard to believe anyone doesn't know the basic, well-known story, based on the song "Ten Little Indians": ten strangers are taken to a mansion at the top of a remote island, only to find that their unknown host plans to kill them, one by one, as punishment for murders they'd committed in their pasts. Every time one of them dies, a set of ten figurines in the dining table loses another piece. (If you want more, there's a decent synopsis at Wikipedia, complete with song lyrics.)
There have been several film versions of the book and play, including a 1949 British TV production under the book's original British title, but this was the first, and there's a freshness to it that makes it the best. Clair's direction is surprisingly modern, telling much of the story with a constantly moving camera. (The "keyhole sequence," where each character is caught spying on another, is a delightful example.) It also has a fine ensemble cast of character actors of the era, and watching them work together-- or, more accurately, against one another-- is one of the great pleasures of the film.
All in all, with the possible exception of Witness for the Prosecution, there's never been a better film version of one of Dame Agatha's works.
It was a tougher quiz this week, so congratulations and a game of billiards with Mr. U.N. Owen to the following winners: Wayne Palmer, Peter Schilling, Dennis Lynch, mick, Mike Kelly, E. Yarber, Bill Hearne, Justin Cullen-Benson, Robert Redwing, Song-Un Lee, Dack Anderson, and Sarah Bergstrom. And suspenseful, special congrats to Mike Knox, who gets this week's grand prize: Nine Inch Nails' "Year Zero" and Art Garfunkel's "Some Enchanted Evening." As prize guru Corey Anderson said, your potential for disappointment will be doubled, Mike!
P.S. In case you've never seen And Then There Were None, a 17-year-old Youtube user is uploading it in 10 minute chunks, once a day. Since the movie is a little under 100 minutes, it will be complete in-- you guessed it-- ten days!
Time again to pronounce judgment, once and for all, on who out-acts whom. So who's the finer thespian?
This guy?
Or this guy?
Unlike last week, I don't have a favorite among these two-- I dislike them equally. I do, however, think one is marginally better than the other. What about you? Get back to me with your thoughts about which one deserves to be known forever more as the greater actor, and I'll reveal the big results in a week or so.
(Before you reply, you might want to check out a couple of their finer, music-based moments: this one with John showing off the stupendous dancing ability that made him a natural for Saturday Night Fever, and this one with Tom busting such fancy moves, you wish he'd been in it, too.)
From a '90s TNN show where Pat was doing his Will Rogers rope-twirling routine.
(If the above whets your appetite for more celebrity hair humiliation, here's William Shatner getting blindsided by a couple radio clowns.)
Instead of my usual brief mention of films I've seen, this time I'm going to take note of a few that I haven't. But a quick skim of the following has definitely boosted them to the top of my viewing list.
The Oyster Princess (1919 - Germany), directed by Ernst Lubitsch. Considered to be the first real Lubitsch comedy, it looks great, and so does the sparkling print used on the Kino DVD. And how could any film with a face like that not be funny?
Atlantis (1913 - Denmark). Another beautiful-looking silent, made within a year of the sinking of the Titanic, and based on a novel that predicted the disaster before it happened. (Its author, Gerhart Hauptmann, won the Nobel for literature the following year). The version I have also includes the alternate, "tragic" ending made for Russian audiences.
The Frightened Woman (1969 - Italy), music by Stelvio Cipriani. How many movies have you seen that have hooked you with the opening credits? This one got me, thanks to the visuals and the fantastic main theme. You can watch/download it here (12MB/wmv file) and see if it hooks you, too. Then, if you're curious, see the full view of what you've been looking at for 90 seconds.
This week it's an old-fashioned, gloves-off, harder-than-hell quiz. Three picture clues, as follows:
Also, in case any of the following might be remotely Google-able, a brief sound clue.
If, like me, you love this film, or at least recognize it when you see it, send me an email with the title by late Sunday night. If you're correct, expect to be the last living member in next week's winner's circle.
That's Susan Sarandon in the opening credits of her first film, Joe (1970), directed by John G. Avildsen (Rocky I & V). It's a movie that, over the decades, went from sleeper to hit to dated. And now, I think, it's become an under-rated time-capsule of many of the things good and bad that were happening when it was made, both in the movies and in the country. (Here's a brief, spoiler-free synopsis.)
Of course, the movie's most remembered cast member is Peter Boyle in his breakthrough role as the title character. The pic above catches him in mid N-word, the first of many times he says it, along with every other slur known to the American lexicon circa 1970. As factory worker and would-be hippie-killer Joe Curran, Boyle tapped into the wrong side of the '60s generation gap better than Carroll O'Connor ever did.
The ironic thing was that Joe couldn't have been further from Boyle, who was horrified by the warm reception he got from New York hardhats (after their riot the year of the film), and artistically conflicted by how the film and his performance were obviously being taken by some of its audience. After that, he turned down films he thought promoted violence (including the lead in The French Connection). A profile piece from the NYT in 1970 caught Boyle in mid-conflict, and includes this quote, prophetically, for our own time:
"The message of the movie is very plain," he goes on. "It says that we'd just better stop that war in Vietnam now; that we'd just better stop killing our children there or we're going to be killing our children in the streets here. The Bible says that if you live by the sword, you die by the sword, and that's what's going to happen."
Lots of wrong answers, but lots of winners, too, so congratulations and dinner at Joe's house to the following: Wayne Palmer, H. Gurdyev, Corey Anderson, Bill Kelly, Maggie Ripsin, Dack Anderson, Ryan Backman, E. Yarber, Bill Hearne, Mark Gisleson, Dennis Lynch, Mike Moore, mick, and Song-Un Lee. And ultra-groovy kudos to Mike Kelly, who wins this week's grand prize, A MusiCares Person of the Year Tribute Honoring James Taylor. If you remember Joe, I'm guessing you remember James, too, Mike-- enjoy!
Last week I asked for opinions on the pressing question, Who's the better actor?-- This guy?
Or this guy?
Quick answer: the first guy won with 75% of the vote. So it's official: Clint Eastwood is a greater thespian than Charles Bronson. Now for the details.
For what it's worth, Bronson prompted more griping than Clint. "The Death Wish movies were for shit." "Great in Once Upon A Time In The West, but the harmonica playing made ME want to kill him." "Name me a movie where Bronson emoted some believable positive emotions. I loved the guy in lots of movies, but his emotional range was Duchovneyesque." (That last comment was from a Bronson voter!)
The author of that last comment also had my favorite argument in favor of Bronson's superior acting talent: "If you look at Bronson's '50s work in shows like Have Gun, Will Travel, you can see him playing against his looks to project credible vulnerability, managing dialects, and with a range that covers stoic tough guys (where he landed and stuck) to wheeling-dealing con men. It's hard to imagine Eastwood pulling off the same variety. [And] Bronson is able to achieve humanity on screen when given the right material. Think of his claustrophobia as he works underground in The Great Escape and ask if Eastwood's screen persona could break open long enough for you to accept Clint in such panic."
On the Eastwood side, to me, this email summed up Clint-ness best: "From Rowdy Yates to Dirty Harry to his character and direction in Unforgiven, he has made my day more than any other actor ever. Given my druthers, if Unforgiven was on one channel and The White Buffalo was on another, I'd watch Unforgiven-- over and over and over. In fact, I do. I think one of the greatest scenes I have ever seen in any movie is when Eastwood confronts Hackman. The lighting on Eastwood's eyes still scares me. And how would anybody come up with a line like, "This can't be happening to me. I'm building a house!" just before he's shot to death? It's pure Eastwood, and Eastwood is the best."
As for my own opinion, as always, I'm in the minority-- don't make me defend the latter entries in the Death Wish franchise, but I'm a Bronson man. Chuck may be a limited actor, but to me he is an actor, while Clint was a star almost from the beginning, but took his own sweet time learning to act. And while there isn't a single role of Eastwood's that I can't envision Bronson as an emergency substitute, try to imagine Clint as Vincent Price's mute, ape-faced henchman in House of Wax-- it's impossible.
So many thanks to everyone who wrote in with a vote and a quote. Check in next week for another really important edition of Great Actors Smackdown!
P.S. One wiseguy suggested that I should have included this western star.
