I thought it'd be fun to write about some of my favourite horror films in the days leading up to Halloween. Last week I did Nightmare on Elm Street(1984).
Kubrick's films have always managed to leave me feeling unsettled. But I can never pinpoint exactly what it is that I find so disturbing about them. Whether it's his eerie classic The Shining or a non-horror film like Full Metal Jacketor evenDr. Strangelove, I'm always left impressed with how well Kubrick was able to capture the dark atmosphere lying just beneath the surface. It's a testament to his talent as a director to have you on the edge of your seat without ever really knowing why. With The Shining we actually know why we are on the edge of our seats; yet, Kubrick manages to keep us on edge even if we've read the novel and know the outcome. No easy feat.
Why I Love It: Growing up, I was a hardcore Stephen King devotee. At one point, I read his books as if no other author in the world existed. Although it has been years since I last read a King novel, The Shining was always one of my favourites. The thought of being trapped in an empty hotel over the long winter season with a father who is rapidly losing his mind gives the plot a claustrophobic tension that is hard to shake.
It's a cold, yet stylish, masterpiece of a film and an excellent how-to guide for future directors on how to slowly build and create atmosphere by using vivid visuals and pushing its main actors to the brink.
Few films are this psychologically overwhelming -- a close examination of madness (and what madness can ultimately set loose within a confined space), Kubrick provides the audience with a glimpse of how powerful a film can be when the central characters are unreliable narrators -- Jack, Wendy and Danny are either all off their rockers or onto something with regards to the hostile energies in the hotel.
Although the film does have its critics, its deliberate pace and gradual build to its climax ensures it will continue to remain a classic of the horror genre. Kubrick also manages to, arguably, make the ending even better than in King's original novel. With Nicholson leading the charge in an over-the-top, yet perfectly creepy, performance, The Shining is a must-see for any film fan.
Favourite Scene: An example of how one single, close-up shot, without any dialogue, can both leave the viewer unsettled and suddenly change the direction and momentum of the plot at the same time.
Singin' In The Rain (1952) Directed By: Gene Kelly & Stanley Donen Starring: Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O'Connor
"Hello. This is a demonstration of a talking picture. Notice, it is a picture of me and I'm talking. Note how my lips and the sound issuing from them are synchronized together in perfect unison."
~Man in Talking Picture Demonstration
For the longest time, whenever I heard the song "Singin' in the Rain" I thought of Malcolm McDowell as Alex DeLarge in A Clockwork Orange. Having seen that film for the first time years ago, I always found the song menacing as a direct result of Stanley Kubrick and Co. Try as I might, I just couldn't picture a happy, smiling, dancing Gene Kelly. I figured the song was "ruined" for me for good.
I eventually saw Singin' in the Rain in a university film course. For some reason, it didn't leave much of an impact. I recently purchased the DVD on a whim and decided to give it a second shot, more than four years after that first initial viewing. I figured I had to be missing something because I've always loved musicals and this is one of the classics -- one of the ones other musicals aspire to be. I'm glad I gave it that second shot because Singin' in the Rain is one of those rare films that makes you smile from start to finish. With a plot in a constant state of motion, it's one of the fastest-paced films I've ever seen.
It's 1927 and Hollywood's golden movie duo, Don Lockwood (Gene Kelly) and Lina Lamont (Jean Hagen), are threatened with a potentially career-ending situation -- the world's first "talkie", The Jazz Singer, is released to rave reviews and audience accolades. Don fears that his limited acting ability will be revealed if he's required to actually recite dialogue while Lina, his obnoxious co-star, has a high-pitched voice that would grate on anyone's nerves. When Don shares his concerns with his longtime friend, Cosmo Brown (Donald O'Connor) and Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds), the woman he loves, they both convince Don to make his next feature (a costume drama set during the French Revolution) a full-out musical to show off Don's talent in singing and dancing. The only problem -- Lina and her voice.
All musicals require a suspension of disbelief, arguably even moreso then some action films. People, sometimes complete strangers, are liable to break out into a perfectly synchronized song and dance, only to resume their every day activities the moment the song is over. If you can sit through the Sharks and Jets duking it out through song and dance in West Side Story, chances are you can just allow yourself to enjoy the way Singin' in the Rain moves the plot forward with music -- and what a fun plot it is!
I've always had a soft spot for Hollywood films that mock or satirize Hollywood (think Sunset Blvd. or All About Eve). It was clever to take an actual event from film history (the 1927 release of the first "talkie", The Jazz Singer) and use it to propel forward a musical about an actor trying to make it in a rapidly changing film industry. As Debbie Reynolds' Kathy tells Don at one point, "The personalities on screen just don't impress me. I mean, they don't talk, they don't act. They just make a lot of dumb show." With the advent of "talkies" the possibilities for film were endless and, back in the those old studio days, when actors were trained to be triple threats (acting, singing, dancing), someone of Don's calibre was bound to prevail. With its witty dialogue, vibrant set pieces and sly winks to real-life Hollywood situations (Lina Lamont as a a thinly veiled Jean Harlow, who had her own real-life struggle from silent films to "talkies" when her unique voice was finally heard), Singin' in the Rain is that Hollywood classic that deserves its praise. All things considered, it has aged remarkably well.
Gene Kelly is incredible to watch -- why I haven't seen more of his work by now is mystery. Here was a Hollywood star who was the complete package: he could act, dance and sing. And not just "with the best of them" ...more often than not he was the best of them. His natural (and completely genuine) charm and charisma carry the film above other musicals with dashing male leads. Kelly had that special extra something that just made him so damn likeable.
The same can be said for Debbie Reynolds, who I haven't seen in many films before. As the young and fresh-faced Kathy, Reynolds is impossibly cute, chipper and can definitely carry a tune. As for Donald O'Connor as Cosmo Brown -- what an incredibly talented dancer. His physical abilities are abnormal -- who knew the human body could run up a wall like that?
The lethal combination of Kelly-Reynolds-O'Connor is a triple threat and Singin' in the Rain benefits largely from their talent and screen presence. And, while not all of the songs are entirely memorable, these three actors manage to make you forget that the song wasn't an instant classic.
Singin' in the Rain was a marvel of cinema when it was first released -- with a heavy emphasis on the use of Technicolour cinematography and vivid production design. It's fitting that a film about the massive changes Hollywood underwent in the good ole' days also benefitted from the use of the latest technologies that were re-vamping Hollywood once again in the 1950s. But, in the end, what really helps Singin' in the Rain soar (along with its technology and actors, of course) is its quick and breezy ability to tell a fun story about movies -- and remind us why we love them so much in the first place.
STARRING: Kyle MacLachlan, Isabella Rossellini, Laura Dern and Dennis Hopper
"I'm seeing something that was always hidden.
I'm in the middle of a mystery and it's all secret."
~Jeffrey Beaumont~
Weird has taken on small town America. College student Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan) returns to his quiet little hometown of Lumberton to visit his family when his father falls ill. On his way home from a hospital visit, Jeffrey finds a severed human ear in an open field. When the police seem incapable of figuring out the mystery, Jeffrey takes matters into his own hands with the help of the lead detective's daughter, Sandy Williams (Laura Dern). What Jeffrey and Sandy uncover involves beautiful nightclub singer, Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini), and sadistic psychopath, Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper).
Like controversial art films A Clockwork Orange and Straw Dogs, to name a couple, Blue Velvet is something that has to be treated as an experience. It's one of those strange classics that will always be picked apart in university film classes, which can arguably ruin its absurdity and ominous undertones. It's a bizarrely beautiful American avant-garde classic that deserves its status as David Lynch's masterpiece.
Lynch is a master of suspense and the surreal. He creates sinister plots, odd characters and an atmosphere that can only be described as uniquely Lynchian. The film opens to the strains of Bobby Vinton's "Blue Velvet" and the images of the idealized little town of Lumberton, full of blooming flowers, immaculate houses and friendly neighbours. Despite its outward appearance, the viewer immediately senses a dark undertone of lurking danger and death. Murder, rape, kidnapping, voyeurism, sexual awakening and one very sadistic man run rampant in the underworld of Lumberton and feature prominently in the film. That unsettling discomfort grips the viewer from start to finish. This dark mystery as the ability to intrigue as much as it can repulse.
The film is full of unforgettable, vibrantly coloured imagery, from the dark blue velvet curtain that flutters slowly during the opening credits to the limited view of Dorothy's apartment as a hidden Jeffrey watches her through the slats of her closet to the smoky atmosphere of the nightclub where Dorothy performs.
The sight of seeing a vulnerable Dorothy reaching beneath her couch for a photo of her son or Dean Stockwell's show-stopping scene where he lip-synchs to Roy Orbison's "In Dreams" (image above) are all oddly beautiful and something out of a nightmare, at the same time. Like Stanley Kubrick before him, Lynch has the gift of providing an audience with emotional atmosphere, simply through the use of objects. shadows or songs.
The casting is first-rate, specifically the four main leads. As Jeffrey, Kyle MacLachlan is all charming, college-boy cool. He portrays Jeffrey as a naive young man who is lured in by the dark nature of the mystery that surrounds him; someone who wants to break away from the manicured lawns and preppy classmates that he's grown accustomed to. Laura Dern's Sandy Williams is a soft-spoken, albeit strong-willed, young women who is less inclined to fall into the dark allure of the mystery. Her strength of character is what pulls Jeffrey back from completely losing himself to the mystery. Isabella Rossellini is not as strong an actress as her late mother, Ingrid Bergman, however, she is just as beautiful and captivating. As nightclub singer, femme fatale Dorothy Vallens, Rossellini plays her character with an open, honest vulnerability. Her deterioration is sad to witness and, more than any other character in the film, you want to see her have a positive outcome. Finally, the late Dennis Hopper, in his second-most iconic role after Easy Rider, is outrageously over-the-top. His Frank Booth is a sadistic, cackling, profanity-laced villain who instills discomfort and fear in every frame he shares with other characters. This sadistic monster is one of American cinema's most famous villains and, in the hands of anyone other than Hopper, would likely have not been so horrifyingly memorable and perverse.
Lynch's films tend to be walking contradictions, with a dark and nasty attitude combined with moments of humour and genuine tenderness. Never is that ability to contradict more on display than it is in Blue Velvet. Lynch and his films transcend genre; they cannot be classified and very rarely can they be properly explained. His films are a genre all their own. You can debate the film with friends until you are blue in the face, however, everyone will walk away with a different interpretation of it. What is Blue Velvet about? A twisted throwback to old-school detective films? A tale of sexual awakening? The age-old story of good vs. evil?
Lynch's ability to constantly push the boundaries of the status quo is nothing short of admirable and is exactly what that art of filmmaking should be at all times.
