Friends and Crocodiles (2005)

 ”I don’t belong here, do I?”

The made-for-television film, Friends and Crocodiles charts the rise and fall of two people during the years 1981-1997 in Britain. When the film begins, millionaire entrepreneur Paul (Damian Lewis) catches a daily glimpse of the very prim and proper secretary, Lizzie (Jodhi May) on her way to work as she walks along the public footpath adjacent to his grand estate. Out of the blue, Paul offers Lizzie a job. This seems like a peculiar way to approach acquiring a new secretary, but Paul is an unusual man, prone to impulses, and he ‘collects’ people.

On Paul’s country estate, he’s more-or-less a permanent host to various friends, parasites and sycophants. There are a range of types here–two pretentious artists, a so-called ‘revolutionary’ thinker, a poet, a young man with amazing powers of recall, various Thatcherite politicians etc, and collectively they’re supposed to provide an atmosphere of creative energy. Well that’s the idea anyway. In reality, an atmosphere of decadence reigns with “each party bigger than the last.” No one really does anything about their great ideas, but a great deal of pontificating and grandiose posturing does takes place.

Not only does Paul collect people, but he also collects ‘ideas,’ and ostensibly he employs Lizzie to organize his ideas. These ‘ideas’–which mostly exist only on paper–are flung willy-nilly in a small room in a corner of Paul’s vast, labyrinthine mansion, and his genius projects range from alligators to windmills. Lizzie, a born organizer, sets to work and over time organizes Paul’s ‘ideas’ into some sort of workable format.

There’s a great deal of strain between Paul and Lizzie. At first, this strain appears to be rooted in the moral differences between Paul and Lizzie, and there are hints that sexual tensions and jealousy are at the base of their relationship. She seems very prim and proper, and appears to be morally outraged by the sexual hijinks afoot in Paul’s bedroom. Also, Paul seems to delight in creating chaos, and to Lizzie’s orderly mind, this is paramount to sacrilege.

Over the years, Paul’s fortunes wax and wane, and meanwhile Lizzie’s fortunes always seem to be in direct contrast to Paul’s situation. And as Lizzie rises in capitalist society, we see that it’s not that she objected morally to Paul, and neither did she really object to his opulent lifestyle. It was merely a matter of ambition, and she’d hoped to rise with Paul and his ideas. Lizzie and Paul aren’t opposites–they are two sides of the same coin.

The film charts the relationship between these two characters, and full of twists and turns, the plot is never quite what you expect. As with all Stephen Poliakoff films, Friends and Crocodiles is packed with sentimentality and clichés, but it’s still an impressively put together package. After recently watching, and being horribly disappointed by Gideon’s Daughter, I was almost reluctant to watch another Poliakoff film. Ultimately, however, this film was a pleasure. While not as good as Shooting the Past and Perfect Strangers, Friends and Crocodiles examines the nature of ambitious drive, the soul-destroying moral compromises often made on the road to success, and the relationships we create and destroy along the way. The film dives off the deep end in a couple of spots–for example, I was seriously worried that Paul was going to find the ‘meaning of life’ during his faux hippie-commune phase, and I was also concerned that the film was going to take the ‘rich genius with all the great ideas’ seriously too. Fortunately the film makes it clear that Paul’s various phases had their purposes, but ultimately excessive wealth creates an atmosphere of corruption and idea inhibition, if anything. I read some poor reviews of this film, so I was pleasantly surprised that it really wasn’t as bad as critics said, and it was definitely much better and much more entertaining than Gideon’s Daughter.

Le Bonheur (1965)

“You’re like an animal set free.”

Carpenter Francois (Jean-Claude Drouot) is happily married to dressmaker Therese (Claire Drouot), and they have two small children. Their life is simple but happy. But then Francois meets a young single woman, Emilie, and has an affair. He’s perfectly happy juggling the two women, and the arrangement–while secret–makes perfect sense to him. He says “it’s too bad to miss more life, more love.”

“Le Bonheur” (which translates to ‘happiness’) emphasizes the idyllic nature of the lives of the young family. This is accomplished by long scenes of the family on picnics, snoozing under trees in the afternoon sun, and walking through fields of wildflowers. The photography is stunning, and the early scenes establish the idyllic side of the family’s life first, in order to explore the ramifications of the affair. These long scenes, however, while beautiful, serve to make the film a little tedious. Also, the character of Francois indulges in some extended, pretentious navel gazing at one point in the film. While the words come from his mouth, they seem a little out-of-place and contrived. The film, however, is decidedly clever, even though the plot seems deceptively simple. The denouement and subsequent resolution occur so casually that it would be easy to miss the very chilly message that director Agnes Varda leaves the viewer. French film fans should be pleased with this subtle film.

The Goddess (1958)

“You needed me, but you never loved me.”

The Goddess, from director John Cromwell,is the story of a needy, neurotic actress, Emily Ann Faulkner (Kim Stanley). She’s born into poverty, and grows up unwanted and unloved but is transformed by Hollywood into a glamorous star. You can’t watch this film too long without getting this slightly uncomfortable feeling that there are some rather uncanny parallels about this film and the real-life story of Marilyn Monroe.

The film begins in Emily Ann’s early childhood, covers her troubled teenage years, her marriages, and her meteorical rise to a troubled stardom. Lloyd Bridges plays husband, boxing promoter Dutch Seymour whose jealously and possessiveness ultimately drives them apart.

Kim Stanley is a phenomenal actress. I first saw her in Seance on a Wet Afternoon and I was so intrigued by her, that I hunted down a copy of this almost-lost film. Stanley plays Emily Ann beginning age 16, and it’s true that she is quite obviously older than that. Stanley is no great beauty, but as Emily Ann transforms into a famous glamorous actress, Stanley becomes uncannily more Monroe-like. The Goddess was nominated for an Oscar for Best Screenplay, and it’s easy to see why. If ever an actress was made for a part, it’s Kim Stanley as the hollow, fragile and restless Hollywood Goddess–simply marvelous.

Unexplained Laughter (1988)

“This whole valley is a sort of extended nuthouse.”

Film versions of novels fascinate me in a very general sense. I am always interested to see how the screenwriter and director chose to interpret a book I’ve enjoyed. Of course, like many people, I am usually disappointed in the film versions of much-loved books. Happily, I can easily say that I was not disappointed in Unexplained Laughter–the film based on the novel by Alice Thomas Ellis. When I discovered that Diana Rigg starred in the film–taking the role of the main character, Lydia, well I just wasn’t going to be satisfied until I saw the film.

Lydia–a middle-aged writer–retreats to her cottage in a remote part of Wales. Lydia is trying to recover (in her own inimitable fashion) from a failed romance with the faithless Finn. For some obscure reason (that not even Lydia can fathom) she drags along acquaintance, “volunteer Samaritan” Betsy for the trip. The two women are complete opposites. Lydia is world-weary, full of marvelous one-liners. She doesn’t believe in most of the things other people believe in, and she has a tendency to scandalize poor Betsy. The ability to flummox Betsy gives Lydia a sort of savage satisfaction. Betsy has a very rosy image of the world–she’s arrived at middle age with her values and belief system intact mainly because she manages to hear what she wants to, and thus she avoids the more unpleasant aspects of life. Lydia, however, has an uncanny knack for reading people, and with this talent she analyzes–unmercifully–some of the locals. Although Lydia plans a “get-away-from-it-all-holiday” she finds herself in a nest of local intrigue–adultery, secrets, and broken love affairs.

The made-for-television film Unexplained Laughter placed more emphasis on the supernatural element within the story. The ghostly laughter that Lydia hears (and Betsy doesn’t) is much more unsettling somehow in the film. Some of the best scenes in the novel were cut to a bare minimum, but that was acceptable. One expects some things to be sacrificed–but the essence of the novel remains intact, and the film version managed to convert the story to an extremely watchable film. The film quite rightly takes advantage of the visual. The countryside was beautiful–and yet mysterious too. Diana Rigg as Lydia delivers a stellar performance. Her contempt for the lascivious Doctor shows with a cast of her eyes, and a slight flare to her nostrils. Sarcasm drips so easily from Rigg as she delivers line after cutting line. There’s one point when the Doctor declines tea and asks instead for an alcoholic drink. Diana Rigg modestly and regretfully claims there’s “not a drop in the house”–while she stashes a bottle of vodka. Rigg’s portrayal of Lydia creates a character who was exactly as I had imagined. The supporting cast all gave excellent performances–and even Bueno (and I think he is a particularly difficult character to cast) was quite perfect. Fans of the Alice Ellis Thomas novel, do yourselves a giant favour and seek out a copy of this film. You will not be disappointed.

The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (2003)

“Now I know the meaning of addiction.”

After bad reviews begin rolling in for her role as Juliet, aging actress, Karen Stone (Helen Mirren) retreats to Rome with her wealthy husband (Brian Dennehy). Rome is supposed to be a refuge, but Karen soon finds herself facing life alone without the solid protection of her husband. As a wealthy widow in Rome, she becomes the prey of a shady Italian Contessa (Anne Bancroft) who specializes in providing beautiful young men to older, lonely wealthy American women. The Contessa introduces Karen to the beautiful–but petulant–Paolo (French heartthrob, Oliver Martinez).

The original, excellent 1961 film The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone stars Vivian Leigh, and I approached this re-make version with skepticism. When remakes are made of already-excellent films, the remakes tend to be a disappointment. I am happy to say that this remake was not a disappointment–in fact, the remake exceeds the original. While the remake version is faithful to the original film, it also expands upon the story–making it much richer. This newer version explores the physical relationship between Karen and Paolo, and there is some nudity involved. The casting of the three main characters in the film is perfect–Anne Bancroft is the wily, mean-spirited, grasping Contessa. The contrast between her real life and the face she shows to society is shocking. Oliver Martinez as Paolo is perfect in this role. He’s pretty boy-Paolo–and he’d prefer to not think about the nitty-gritty financial details underneath his role with Karen. Unfortunately, financial considerations are a reality for both Paolo and the Contessa. When Paolo starts telling his ridiculous, fictional stories, Martinez actually manages to act the role with an insincerity that is astonishing. But it is the exquisite Helen Mirren as Karen Stone who steals the film. Karen’s humiliation increases as the affair deepens, and she struggles to maintain some sort of dignity and some sort of balance in the relationship. Karen begins using more and more make-up in desperate attempts to keep Paolo interested. When Karen and Paolo are in public, passer-bys look at the couple with ridicule. The sets are luscious, and Mirren’s costumes are spectatular. The only complaint I have concerns the rotten accents (Mirren and Chris, the playwright)–if you can’t do an accent properly–don’t do one at all). This version of The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone was a delight and fans of the original should not be displeased. From director Robert Allan Ackerman

Scarlet Street (1945)

“They’ll be masterpieces.”

In Scarlet Street mild-mannered bank cashier Chris Cross (Edward G Robinson) dreams of being a great painter one day. His nagging wife ridicules his hobby and constantly humiliates him. Then one day Chris meets a young woman named Kitty (Joan Bennett). He thinks she’s being mugged, but she’s really a ‘working girl’ squabbling with her slimy boyfriend, Johnny (Dan Duryea). Chris and Kitty strike up a conversation, and soon Kitty and Johnny are ready to use Chris for whatever money they can get out of him.

Chris seems to be just too nice for his own good. He’s a reliable, largely underappreciated employee who plugs away daily at his desk. But painting is one thing he’s passionate about, and it saves him from the sheer boredom of mediocrity. He’s a rather unhappy character–first his impossible wife is kicking him around, and it doesn’t take long for Kitty to sink her materialistic little hooks into Chris too. As events take place within the film, the strength and weaknesses of Chris Cross are explored. Will he exploit opportunities or is he destined to always be a slave to his character flaws? Many marvelous little touches raise this film above the average and make it memorable. I’d never heard of this film until recently when I came across the title in a book about film noir. As a fan of director, Fritz Lang’s films, I sought out this film. The plot is extremely clever–full of unpredictable twists and turns. Kitty deceives Chris, but he is guilty of his own sort of deception.

The DVD quality is not great, but I am not downgrading the film for that. My DVD is produced by Alpha video at a very reasonable price. The film is not re-mastered at all, and there are no extra features. At some points during the film, a thin vertical line was visible, and the sound quality varied (seems to get louder), plus there were some crackles. The black and white picture is grainy at times. All of these defects, however, did not interfere with my ability to watch and enjoy the film. It’s about the same quality as a television version of the film. If you enjoyed Woman in the Window (a much more famous Fritz Lang/Edgar G Robinson/Joan Bennett film) you should enjoy this one too.

Don Juan, My Love (1990)

“We’ve arrested a nudist.”

Don Juan, My Love is a Spanish comedy film with English subtitles. According to legend, Don Juan is given the chance to come back to earth at midnight on Oct 31st. every year to spend 24 hours trying to do a good deed. If he does a good deed, he won’t have to go to Purgatory. That’s the plan anyway, but so far, for the past 450 years, he hasn’t managed it. When the film begins, Don Juan exits his grave for his annual attempt at a good deed.

Elsewhere in Seville, the play Don Juan is in dress rehearsal. The grumpy actor Marquina, who plays the role of Don Juan in the play, has managed to alienate everyone on the set. The real–but dead–Don Juan accidentally takes the actor’s place in an understandable case of mistaken identity.

After reading a customer review of this film, I decided that I wanted to see it. Don Juan, My Love is a frothy, good-natured romp–nothing too serious, and there’s plenty of slapstick comedy here. Don Juan, My Love is not as outrageous or as richly-themed as Almodovar films, and it lacks the intelligence and insight of the similarly-themed French film Les Visiteurs (a great French comedy about two medieval knights who are transported to modern times). The plot relies on farce, but it’s a decent job, nonetheless, and I did laugh out loud at several points in the film. Strong characters certainly add to the plot–there’s an obsessed widow/circus acrobat, Don Juan’s lonely and neglected wife, and a determined police inspector. Two actresses from Almodovar films–Veronica Forque and Rossy de Palma–star in this comedy, and some entertaining flamenco dancing scenes really add to the flavour of the film.

The Machine (1994)

An exceedingly silly and cliche ridden film

Gerard Depardieu and Nathalie Baye–both BIG names in French cinema–star is the stink-o thriller The Machine. Depardieu plays ‘brain specialist’ Dr. Marc Lacroix–a man who’s obviously spent too much time with the criminally insane. Dr. Lacroix is obsessed with the criminal mind–specifically “how the mind fits into the brain.” And, so, naturally, he builds a machine capable of transferring or switching a brain from one person to another. The intent of this lunacy is to allow Lacroix full access to the brain of a psychotic killer with the idea that this will point to “a different angle for treatment.” Lacroix’s planned experiments are a big secret he doesn’t mention to his colleagues. The machine–and it rather suspiciously resembles a pair of those awful full head dryers–is hidden in the cellar of Lacroix’s conveniently abandoned creepy family mansion.

Dr. Lacroix forges a relationship with foul-mouthed serial killer Michael Zyto, and before too long, Dr Lacroix whisks Zyto off to the abandoned country estate for a little BRAIN TRANSFER. Now picture this … you–the eminently respected brain specialist–sit in one chair, and the murderer sits in the other. You push the control buttons, and hey presto–you are in the murderer’s body, and oooops … he’s in your body …

Is there a fundamental problem with this plan?????

The entire premise, is, of course, silly. The special effects (computer screens with diagrams of the head) are simplistic, and there is an over-reliance on narration when it comes to the small issue of plot. Gerard Depardieu is a wonderful actor, and it’s a shame to see his talents wasted in this hideous film. From director Francois Dupeyron, in French with subtitles.

Spanking the Monkey (1994)

“This is the most disorganized household.”

Pre-med student, Raymond Aibelli (Jeremy Davies), comes home during the summer for a few days. He’s due to go onto Washington for a prestigious internship at the Surgeon General’s office. When he arrives home, his dad–a traveling salesman–abruptly tells Raymond that he has to stay home and nurse his mother. She has a compound fracture and is bed-bound. Raymond’s protests fall on deaf ears. Raymond’s selfish and controlling father seems to think that Raymond can just pick up the internship another time. So Raymond is stuck at home with his mother while his dad hits the road.

The film Spanking the Monkey is a perfect example of Tolstoy’s quote from Anna Karenina: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” The Aibelli family–to use a well-worn phrase–is a dysfunctional family. On the outside, they seem quite rather average, but in the confines of their home ….

Raymond’s father is free of his family while he takes these extended sales trips. He has freedom of movement, but he also dumps the whole ‘family man’ routine. His wife, on the other hand, is literally stuck in bed, and Raymond is stuck taking care of her. But the situation is far worse than that–both Raymond and his mother are prisoners of the rules laid down for them–these rules include strict use of the car and regulations regarding the dog’s exercise. Why both the mother and the son obey such intricate and pointless rules is a testament to the family dynamic they are engaged in. No one rocks the boat–no one frankly disobeys, and as a result, they all suffer.

On top of Raymond’s dashed dreams of the internship (and his sacrifice is largely ignored), he struggles with questions about his masculinity from former high school friends, and even the 16 year-old daughter of a neighbouring psychiatrist questions Raymond’s feelings towards girls.

Spanking the Monkey deals with issues of independence–all three members of the Aibelli family view each other as roles–rather than as individuals, and they each fail to see each other’s unhappiness. While the father maintains some sort of rogue male status, both Raymond’s mother and Raymond are cast into roles that deny individual need. It’s no real shock that Raymond’s selfish father should imagine that he rates above everyone else, but Raymond and his mother also fail to accept each other as individuals. For this summer, Raymond exists to nurse his mother, and she exists as a weight around his neck. There’s virtually no privacy, and they are stuck in trapped intimacy. Spanking the Monkey is the biggest argument I’ve seen for why children need space of their own. The film may sound bleak and depressing, but the dilemmas faced by the characters are laced with irony and black humour, and the film, ultimately is engaging and insightful. If you haven’t seen the film and are interested in the subject matter, I recommend it highly. From writer/director David O. Russell.

In the Soup (1992)

“Every great artist had to suffer a little.”

Adolfo Rollo (Steve Buscemi) is flat broke and the rent is due. He has only one precious possession to sell–and that is a 500 plus page film script of his epic “Unconditional Surrender.” Adolfo places a ‘for sale’ advertisement in the paper, and someone responds. Adolfo meets the prospective purchaser Joe (Seymour Cassel) in his run-down hotel room. Adolfo wants $200 for the script, but Joe gives him $1,000 and offers to get funding to make the film. Now since Joe makes the offer in his underwear–without even bothering to read the script–it’s obvious that something is wrong here.

“In the Soup” is a wildly bizarre comedy–there’s not a normal character in the entire film. Jennifer Beals plays Angelica–Adolfo’s prickly neighbour, and she has a few problems with immigration. Adolfo has a giant crush on Angelica, and wants to put her in his film. His relationship with Angelica is complicated by her bizarre, jealous, obnoxious French husband, Gregoire (Stanley Tucci). Adolfo’s landlords are the singing Bafardi brothers, the owners of Bafardi’s liquor. And then there are a couple of nudist game show hosts. Amidst all this madness and mayhem, Joe attempts to get funding for Adolfo’s incredibly rotten film. Joe and his psychotic brother, Skip have some illegal methods to get the money.

I read several professional reviews of this film that stated that it was not funny. I must say that “In the Soup” was one of the funniest films I’ve seen in a long time. For the first half of the film, I laughed practically non-stop. After about the halfway point, the film briefly lost some of its humour and took on a more serious tone, but then the humour quickly swung back into motion. Autobiographical events in director’s Alexandre Rockwell’s life inspired the story. Rockwell isn’t too well known in America, but he also directed “The Wrong Man” story in “Four Rooms.” “In the Soup” is inspired, original, wickedly funny, bizarre, and quite fantastic. Adolfo’s life is going nowhere, and then he meets the unstoppable Joe. Joe is one of those people you never forget–although you can’t quite fathom him either. Steve Buscemi as the loser Adolfo is marvelous. He seems to have a knack for these sorts of roles, but it’s Seymour Cassel’s film all the way. “In the Soup” could well become a cult classic, and it deserves a much wider audience.