White Dog February 22, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1980s , 3 comments
I’m not entirely sure where to start with this film, frequently identified for being one of the most bootlegged videos even though it’s still largely unseen. I guess the most logical place would be with Paramount’s absurd decision to withhold its release in 1982 due to pressure from the NAACP and likely fear of a controversial backlash. The film’s basic storyline of a white German Shepherd trained to attack black people somehow became a hot potato 25 years ago despite the story’s basis in fact and repeated accounts of similar situations, recounted in the film as originating when slave owners would train their dogs to attack runaway slaves. The biggest headscratcher is how someone could view White Dog as even the least bit racist or perpetuating racist ideals.
The dog’s attacks and training are consistently portrayed as shameful and wrong. The whole movie is built around the premise of trying to get the dog to unlearn his violent reactions to black persons. There is absolutely no indication at any point in the film that racism is acceptable behavior. The dog itself can’t even be accurately classified as racist since it was merely trained to act out of fear and anger towards persons with dark skin. Furthermore, the inevitable ending provides a definitive answer for anyone who hasn’t caught on throughout the film’s entire running time of showing racism as evil and hateful. It’s simply unfathomable how such an anti-racism movie could be shelved by its studio because of worries over it being deemed racist. Yet, that’s exactly what happened and has continued to happen ever since, as evidenced by the lack of a full U.S. theatrical release and an absence of a North American VHS or DVD release.
The origins of the story began in a magazine article, later expanded into a novel, written by Romain Gary, whose then-wife Jean Seberg had found a dog much as Kristy McNichol’s character does in the film. Seberg, who had starred for Jean-Luc Godard in Breathless, soon realized the seemingly friendly animal had been trained to attack black people after several incidents where the dog specifically targeted them. In White Dog, McNichol’s character, also an actress, becomes protective of the dog after he saves her from a rapist and wants to have him unlearn his violent training. She takes the animal to Paul Winfield’s character, an animal trainer who’s dealt with these types of dogs before but hasn’t successfully cured one without incident.
Going in to the film, I was sort of expecting some kind of horror type of movie with an out of control dog attacking black people in a rampage as the authorities tried to put an end to the animal attacks. As it turns out, director Samuel Fuller gives the audience something else entirely. It would be easy to watch White Dog and take the face value approach of seeing the Cujo-like story I had initially expected. It certainly plays a little like one of those exploitation films cable channels used to air late at night. Indeed, there’s little doubt that Fuller’s film could have enjoyed a rich life on television stations alongside Stephen King adaptations and animal gone wild tales.
This duality between cheesy 80’s attack dog film and brave parable on racism creates somewhat of a baffling response at first glance. It’s deeply entertaining, but there’s a surreal quality to seeing Kristy McNichol, Paul Winfield and Burl Ives in a film that many read as an allegory about racism in general. Frequent dips into humor from Ives, whether he’s bemoaning R2-D2 or showing his appreciation for sour cream, only add to the bizarreness. There are campy moments galore that nearly make it difficult to take any message being espoused very seriously. It’s almost like learning valuable life lessons from a very special episode of any number of laughtrack laden sitcoms.
Yet, when the film truly works, such as Winfield’s speech as to how the dog was trained over time to fear and then attack black people, it becomes clear that Fuller’s intent to allegorize the evils of years of racial prejudice through his simple story manages to movingly succeed in the unlikeliest of places. These scenes are crucial to set off the light bulb in the viewer’s mind that we’re dealing with more than just a story about a dog trained by a racist. While most of the film triumphs as a nearly unclassifiable horror/human-dog love story hybrid, the few moments of introspection into generations of racist stereotypes and fears are exceptionally potent without ever seeming preachy. By using B-movie techniques of economic filmmaking and viewer-friendly plotting and editing that Fuller built his career on, the director was able to insert a profound message about the dangers of continued prejudice.
The question then becomes to what degree was this message intended. I’m not exactly sure how far Fuller and Curtis Hanson, who co-wrote the script and went on to direct fine films such as L.A. Confidential and Wonder Boys, meant for the audience to take the premise of the white dog as representative of white America. Could the film possibly be insinuating that white society, like the white dog, has been conditioned or indoctrinated to view black people negatively? I’m honestly not sure. The white dog is ultimately an innocent who’s been trained to hate and I can see a possible correlation with media portrayals of black men conditioning white audiences to fear and create prejudices against black persons. I don’t know if that was the intention, to go to that extreme, or if such a comparison ever crossed the mind of Fuller or Hanson, but it can certainly be made with a little imagination.
In fact, much of the praise that is sometimes reserved for White Dog may reflect what viewers want to get from the film more than what the film actually gives us. Certainly that’s not an entirely bad thing since too often we’re hit over the head repeatedly with a glaring “message” reiterated umpteen times just in case we missed it meandering along the first few attempts. But, on the surface of Fuller’s film, it’s mostly left for the viewer to put together the ultimate take-home message, as the narrative plays a much more important role than the racism angle. Winfield’s speech is the only true insight the filmmakers provide for emptyheaded viewers to catch their not entirely subtle message. Since audiences probably prefer to draw their own conclusions and opinions, assuming they’ve been nudged ever so slightly, this might account for part of the film’s esteemed reputation.
I also think that the positive cult status surrounding White Dog may in large part be a result of its unavailability, a cinematic forbidden fruit of sorts. The film could easily disappoint those expecting an eloquent, thoughtful exploration of race in America. Instead, the film is a little clumsy and awkward at times and leaves most of the serious discussion for the audience to mull over on its own. These flaws are characteristic of much of Fuller’s work, and White Dog certainly fits well in his unique catalog. However, I don’t think it’s the director’s best film, and would give the edge to some of his earler films like Pickup on South Street or The Naked Kiss. Regardless, White Dog, occasionally popping up in a sparkling new print in retrospectives, shouldn’t be missed by anyone interested in Fuller and his films.
Half Nelson February 18, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Modern Films, 2000s , 3 comments
For all the pageantry and ridiculous choices that seem to run rampant, the Academy Awards still provide an important, necessary opportunity to bring attention to underseen films worthy of larger audiences. A perfect example of this is Half Nelson
Director and co-writer Ryan Fleck’s feature film debut was adapted from a short film he made with editor and co-writer Anna Boden entitled Gowanus, Brooklyn. Both the short and Half Nelson concern inner-city teacher and girls basketball coach Dan Dunne, who successfully struggles to make a difference in the lives of his students but has a much more difficult time balancing his own drug addiction. I can understand anyone’s skepticism in thinking they’ve seen this type of movie before - young, urban white male battles dependence on drugs and, after hitting rock bottom, must somehow kick the habit before it destroys him. The great thing is that Half Nelson feels like none of those seemingly similar films. It’s surprisingly refreshing and unpredictable, with Gosling giving arguably the superior male performance of the year as Dunne.
Instead of building up to a meltdown or paint-by-numbers scenario to initiate sobriety, we’re given a more realistic journey into the difficulty of living with addiction while also trying to maintain a normal existence. We spend time with the character and he’s humanized, both by the impressive script and Gosling’s mesmerizing portrayal, as a flawed young man unable to eliminate his drug problem. He’s self-destructive, but unapologetic. His ruinous existence, highlighted by a mattress without a bed in an altogether decaying apartment, is as much by choice as it is addiction. Any hint of a desire to straighten up his life is masked by the overwhelming urge to use, regardless of how inappropriate the timing might be.
The most careless example we see is when, following a basketball game, Dunne decides to smoke crack in the girls restroom and is caught by one of his students, Drey. Unfazed, the young girl helps her teacher and coach as he comes down and then gets a ride home from him. Bound together by this secret, the two grow attached and we see the parallel story of Drey, whose brother is serving jail time for dealing. Dunne is concerned for Drey when she starts spending time with neighbor and drug dealer Frank (Anthony Mackie, star of Spike Lee’s She Hate Me), who owes a debt to her brother for not giving him up to the police.
As the thirteen-year-old Drey, Shareeka Epps (who also played the character in the original short film) is Gosling’s equal, turning in the finest performance of the year from a child actor and making you scratch your head at how such a slight film like Little Miss Sunshine could have its young star nominated while Epps was snubbed. The teenage actress wrings a wounded knowingness out of her character, displaying a maturity beyond her years. It feels like natural acting, and for all I know Epps could be just like Drey in real life, but it absolutely works perfectly in this film. Like Gosling but to a greater extent, Epps has a virtual blank palette to work with in audiences’ minds since we’re not familiar with her on screen.
Gosling also uses this to his advantage in creating his performance, one of the finest from a young male actor in a decade or more. He was well-received but mostly unseen in the role of a Jewish neo-Nazi in The Believer back in 2001 and won the hearts of teenage girls in The Notebook, but he’s still basically unknown to the majority of moviegoers. While reminding me that there’s been a dearth of serious young male actors lately, Gosling’s break-out here brings to mind Edward Norton’s one-two punch of Oscar-nominated roles in Primal Fear and American History X a few years back. Like Norton, Gosling mostly came out of nowhere (not counting his stint on the new Mickey Mouse Club) to burst into cinemas or, more likely, living rooms with a performance that demands audiences take notice.
Unlike most, if not all, the other nominated performances in the lead actor category, Gosling is actually in an outstanding film as well. There’s a lot going on here, exploring the dynamic between a teacher who seems to come from a completely different background than his Brooklyn minority students while also dealing with Dunne’s personal conflict involving his debilitating crack habit and a protective interest in Drey. In addition, the film skillfully touches on the concept of dialectics, a push-pull philosophy into the contradictory nature of life and somewhat of an overarching theme for the entire film, as well as educational lessons in injustice via occasional monologues from the students that are intercut into the film. Almost improbably, things never get messy or too complicated and the viewer is left with a good amount to chew on afterwards.
Now having praised the film and performances, I want to make sure not to oversell it. While it’s certainly one of the best American films of last year, it would have suffered from the kind of extreme hype that tends to cripple first time viewings of so many other films. It’s a small, independent film that can be emotionally gripping and intensely engrossing, but it’s best to discover it on your own without the endless publicity from media reporting what the filmmakers ate for dinner each night, etc., and thus demystifying its impact. The Academy have done their part by giving Half Nelson a small boost in attention and now it’s for the discerning viewers out there to do the same.
(The film is scheduled for theatrical release in the UK on March 2nd April 20th, with a DVD tentatively due in September)
Billy Wilder Speaks February 14, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, Billy Wilder , 2 comments
Recently, I found myself in Los Angeles (part of a quixotic excursion in the name of bowler hats and oversized apples) strolling around (1) a tiny, but well-known cemetery, (2) a brand new state-of-the-art theater, and (3) a secluded portion of the Hollywood Walk of Fame just past some construction. The common denominator for all three was my favorite filmmaker, Billy Wilder. The great director’s final resting place is in a small memorial home just off the busy Wilshire Boulevard and nearly hidden if you don’t have exact directions. I’m not usually one to include graveyards in my tourist destinations, but I made an exception here. Mr. Wilder’s grave is somewhat separate from most of the others in the cemetery, and he’s just to the left of the actor Carroll O’Connor and his frequent leading man Jack Lemmon. Walter Matthau is also buried nearby and the cemetery’s most famous resident is Marilyn Monroe, whose two best-known films were both directed by Wilder
Just a short walking distance away from the gravesite is the new Billy Wilder Theater, located in the Hammer Museum. Unfortunately, I was there just a few days before the theater’s official opening (a screening of The Apartment with Shirley MacLaine in person was held last Friday, the 9th) and was quickly ushered away when I tried to sneak a look inside. What I did see in person and via brochure looked highly impressive and the $7.5 million theater has the capacity to show technologies from “the earliest silent films requiring variable speed projection to the most current digital cinema and video,” one of very few (four, reportedly) theaters in the entire country with such resources.
Outside the theater, there are large pixellated images from a few of Wilder’s films, including the shot from Double Indemnity seen here. There were also posters for Some Like It Hot and Sunset Blvd. framed and encased in glass when I was there. The color pink serves as a dominant theme and can be found in additional large pixellated images depicting scenes from the director’s well-known films inside the lobby, as well as 294 of the leather seats inside the theater. One lone brown chair represents where Wilder liked to sit during screenings. A large portrait of the director and benefactor (his widow donated $5 million) is near one theater entrance, and included here at the bottom of the page.
Aside from visiting 10086 Sunset Boulevard, the only other notable Wilder-related site near Los Angeles that I was aware of is his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. It’s actually on Vine St., instead of Hollywood Blvd. where most of the stars are, and a construction crew had the sidewalk closed nearby when I was there. It’s still easy enough to find if you know where you’re looking and I was able to take a picture of the partially-cracked star. I’ve searched high and low to determine exactly when Wilder received the star, but haven’t found an answer.
Seeing the fingerprints Billy Wilder left behind his adopted home city made me think about why I enjoy his films so much. It’s always good to reevaluate one’s idols and preferences from time to time, lest we get stuck in a rut of the same favorite films, books, music, etc. without ever evolving our tastes. Keeping that in mind, it’s not difficult for me to understand why Wilder’s films are so dear to my heart and why I’ve been interested in him since I first understood that the director is usually the one most responsible for the films I love. Aside from his frequent mastery of story and character, Wilder was able to create stand-alone worlds that have become part of film iconography. His characters live on beyond the time we see them on screen and it’s not unreasonable to imagine Norma Desmond remaining in her crumbling mansion and playing her regular bridge games or C.C. Baxter infinitely pursuing Miss Kubelik between his constant bouts with the sniffles. I don’t know of another director who gave the world so many rich personalities, seemingly breathing life into fictional pieces of celluloid to the point that we feel like we’re witnessing moments of time in lives of unknown neighbors.
Trying to rationalize my love for Wilder’s work also brings to mind the key reason anyone ever responds strongly to anything - a personal ability to relate to something seen, heard or felt. I imagine my world view and opinions are quite close to those demonstrated by Billy Wilder. Cynicism, a need to question, and concealed sentimentality are all traits I seem to share with Wilder and his films. Certainly these subjective reasons are much of what makes humans choose their preferences, with personal definitions of taste serving to further narrow things into favorites. I know that one reason I like many of Wilder’s films is because they dare to show the darker side of humanity, a side often glossed over or exaggerated in movies and television shows from the same time period. Yet, I also enjoy the side of his filmography that’s romantic, funny, even full of hope. There’s hardly an emotion in life that isn’t well represented in one of Wilder’s movies.
All this gives me an excuse to mention Kino’s Billy Wilder Speaks
At the age of 83, the revered director still had plenty of sharp wit and insight to charm an audience. Alternating between his native German and English, Wilder seems loose and animated as he holds court. He tells some of his favorite stories about many of the classic films he directed and it’s apparent that he’s justifiably proud of many of them. He’s more than happy to pull out a copy of the script he and I.A.L. Diamond wrote for Some Like It Hot and talk with Schlöndorff about the famous scene where Jack Lemmon, with the help of a couple of maracas, tells Tony Curtis he’s about to marry Joe E. Brown.
Watching these interviews, it’s fairly easy to see how this man made so many enduring classics in seemingly different genres and tones. He seems to epitomize a Wilder movie himself, coming across as a charming, funny old-timer while maintaining some of the crusty cynicism with which his films are frequently labeled. His straightforward accounts of trying to set up a meeting with Marlene Dietrich each time he’s in Paris or the disastrous preview screening for Sunset Blvd. in Poughkeepsie (!) could have easily come from a Wilder film.
The extra interviews and trailers help the DVD rise above seeming like merely an extra feature addendum to one of Wilder’s films. Apparently, Schlöndorff’s interviews were shown in six half hour installments on German television in 1992. I’d be curious to know what was edited out and not included on the Kino DVD release. Schlöndorff mentions in this released version that Wilder asked him not to show the footage in America until after he had died because then he wouldn’t care what anyone said about him. Any worries Wilder had were misplaced since I can’t imagine too much negativity springing up from these interviews, but the unexpected timing of the release makes for a nice surprise.
Even though the existing interviews do not delve very deeply into some of Wilder’s less-celebrated films as much as Cameron Crowe’s highly enjoyable and informative book Conversations with Wilder, it’s still invaluable to see the aged director speak with such vim and vigor. The diverse topics discussed, ranging from Wilder’s little-seen concentration camp documentary Death Mills to whether he would have worked for free as a Hollywood director, make for a fantastic look at the filmmaker that also expands beyond movie set anecdotes. For those interested in hearing Wilder’s own take on things more than regurgitated gossip from a biographer for hire, this DVD stands alongside Crowe’s book as an essential reference, convenient for frequent revisiting like many of Wilder’s contributions to the film world.
Vengeance Is Mine February 4, 2007
Posted by clydefro in : Classic Films, 1970s, Shohei Imamura , 1 comment so far
Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” No, “if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. - Romans 12:19-21
Shohei Imamura’s 1979 film Vengeance Is Mine takes its name and some of its subtext from the Biblical passage quoted above, part of Paul’s contribution to the Book of Romans. On its surface, the film concerns a serial killer named Iwao Enokizu (Ken Ogata, in an impressive performance) who eludes capture for 78 crime-filled days despite being prominently listed as one of Japan’s most wanted fugitives. It was adapted from a popular Japanese novel that recounted the true story of Ryuzo Nishiguchi, whose name was changed for the book, and his gruesome killing spree. What makes the film so interesting, though, is Imamura’s approach to the material and his almost total lack of concern for any element of suspense.
Instead of teasing the audience with pounding music and frequent cuts to a helpless victim, Imamura treats us to a movie where the killings are far from the focal point of the story. Some of the murders are seen onscreen while others are not, even if the victims are anticipated such as the elderly lawyer we later see lifelessly crouched inside a dresser. The character of Enokizu is a soulless sociopath, as likely to selfishly take a taxi the attorney has waited for in the pouring rain as he is to enjoy a meal and a bottle of wine in the old man’s apartment after he’s murdered him. Yet, by often not explicitly showing the killings, Imamura automatically devalues any shock or suspense element otherwise required for a typical film about a serial killer.
Through this approach, the director is able to emphasize the sociopathic nature of Enokizu as someone who finds no more excitement or rush in his violent crimes than in other mundane tasks, with the idea being that oftentimes neither are important enough to show onscreen. Instead, we frequently see Enokizu engaged in sexual acts and he’s repeatedly shown to have a voracious carnal appetite. He obviously uses sex, not murder, as his main form of pleasure, thus making his multiple killings even more difficult to understand. Maybe Imamura is making some other statement in regards to Enokizu’s apparent addiction to sex, but I’m not sure what else it might be. Enokizu’s manner in each activity sharply contrasts the other since he clearly kills out of opportunity more than necessity, but seems to openly crave, even require, sex.
Part of what makes Vengeance Is Mine
It’s that idea that seems to provide the inspiration for the title of Vengeance Is Mine. It’s clear that the general interpretation of the Biblical passage the film takes its name from places God as the ultimate taskmaster for seeking vengeance and instructs His followers to meet evil not with the desire to seek retribution, but with a defiant nature of acceptance and goodwill. The title of Imamura’s film, therefore, appears to be derived from the idea that Enokizu’s actions, whatever his reasons, are completely contrary to the Biblical idea of overcoming evil with good. The people we see Enokizu kill are not threatening him or engaging in horrible activities, yet they suffer anyway. Some of his victims are actually kind to him, fulfilling the command to feed your enemies, but are still not spared a senseless death.
I also wonder if Imamura is slyly taking a jab at Christianity by having Enokizu’s father, Shizuo, who had converted years before from Buddhism, adhere to his religious values and refuse the advances of his daughter-in-law Kazuko, the killer’s frustrated wife. Even though Shizuo’s wife is terminally ill and he shares an attraction to Kazuko, he apparently abstains from that temptation. His reward is to have his son, who had become ashamed of him at a young age when the father allowed his boats to be taken by the navy without a fight, disgrace the family and disrespect him personally.
Throughout the film, Imamura employs a somewhat disjointed and unconventional narrative technique. He frequently jumps from time and place, putting dates and locations on the screen in the style of a documentary to let the audience know when and where he’s moved the story. This can be a tad disarming for first-time Western viewers, unfamiliar with Japanese names and geography, who might have difficulty keeping straight the significance of each new location or person. It doesn’t prove overly distracting though, and it certainly fits the cold, clinical feeling that Imamura seems to want. This method also is consistent with the director’s larger body of work, since he spent ten years exclusively directing documentaries after one of his other projects proved to be an epic flop.
Aside from his blending of fiction with fact, Imamura is known for exploring the seedier side of post-war life in Japan. He had worked with the legendary Yasujiro Ozu as an assistant, but had no interest in the domestic middle-class films the elder director was known for. Imamura instead chose to make noteworthy films with titles such as Pigs and Battleships, The Insect Woman, and The Pornographers. The latter is the only one of his early films, from the era coined the Japanese New Wave, that’s available on DVD in R1 and it’s a bare-bones edition from Criterion. Theatrical screenings are starting to pop up though, and the Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM) cinématek will be having a retrospective of the director’s films during the month of March entitled “Pimps, Prostitutes, and Pigs: Shohei Imamura’s Japan,” including a full week run for Vengeance is Mine.
In the land of R2, the Masters of Cinema label gave Vengeance Is Mine an outstanding DVD release in 2005 that certainly built upon their increasingly impressive catalog. The audio and video are both excellent, but it’s the informative and worthwhile supplements that really set the package apart. There’s a highly regarded Tony Rayns commentary, a 6-minute introduction from director Alex Cox that mostly skims the surface while pointing out a few things of interest, and, finally, a 36-page booklet (with the startlingly unexpected cover image of a topless woman alongside Ogata) that includes a great, lengthy essay from Jasper Sharp and a much more dry, less rewarding one by Alastair Phillips. Since Janus Films has the distribution rights to the film in R1, it seems only a matter of time before the Criterion Collection releases its own version, though I hope they also decide to release additional Imamura titles since the MoC disc is put together so well already.
UPDATE - Criterion will be releasing the film on DVD in May, though the MoC appears to have the advantage in supplements.