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Fritz the Cat and The Front, and a few more films

The Frightening (2002)

A new kid in a new town goes to his first day at Hallows End High School, where there's been a murder, but the principal won't cancel classes even for a day. A teacher goes snooping around in the basement, and she's killed by students wearing cheap ninja outfits — black t-shirts, black caps, black tights. 

"Look around, new kid. This whole place is based on squeaky-clean appearances. It's kinda freaky, huh? Everybody's a robot. How many high schools have you been to where everybody's normal? We get tons of new students at this school… Sometimes they disappear off the face of the earth."

NEVERENDING
FILM FESTIVAL
#279  [archive]
APR. 19, 2024

I'm not sure what the new kid's name is, because everyone calls him 'new kid'.

Also not sure about the film's seriousness — it's 100% hyped-up horror clichés taken to nearly the point of camp, but it never crosses the line, and has a few sorta scary moments. There's also a nifty steel guitar soundtrack. 

Also, wild guess, the director and/or scriptwriter have gotta be gay. Schlocky movies like this sometimes have girls topless, but this one has the boys nearly nude. And new kid, are you sure you don't want to try out for the wrestling team?

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

The Fringe Dwellers (1986)
Streaming free at Vimeo

"What are you tryin' to be, white?"

I'm a sucker for any flick where people strike back at their oppressors, so this won me over soon as Trilby Comeaway smacked the blonde girl who'd been taunting her (and that's a great name, ain't it?). She's a high school kid, Australian Aborigine, raised in what most of us would call a shack, but she dreams of moving her huge, extended family into a house with a stove, plumbing, and electricity.

Wherever there are humans there's racism, and Aborigines are the blacks of down under. Trilby is angry at the day-to-day racism, at her parents for their apparent acceptance of it all, and even at white liberals with their patronizing attitudes and gifted second-hand clothes.

The story wanders and loses itself a few times, driven more by mood than plot, but it's warm, sweet, funny, and authentically dark. Directed by Bruce Beresford (Breaker Morant).

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Fritz the Cat (1972)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

This is a full-length cartoon, but not for kiddies. Written and directed by Ralph Bakshi, based on characters by R. Crumb, it's outrageous and sexist, occasionally funny, and probably better if you're stoned. I'm not. 

The animation is beautiful, and the story line crude but amusing. Fritz, who is indeed a cat, picks up human women, has an orgy in a bathtub, outsmarts dumb cops, hangs out with black people (represented here as crows), and eventually starts a race riot.

The film both celebrates and satirizes underground culture and liberal politics, and has an utterly non-PC spin on race and gender and religion and everything else, but for my lack of money it runs tired by midway through, and begins to feel repetitive. 

Mr Crumb disliked the film so much, he killed off Fritz in his printed comics, but that didn't prevent a sequel to this movie two years later.

Verdict: MAYBE.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Frogs for Snakes (1998)

Not often do I watch a movie and say to myself, "Never seen anything like that before." 

Zip (John Leguizamo) is a criminal who wants to be an actor, and performs a long and painful impression of Marlon Brando from The Godfather. It's excruciating, so awful yet ongoing for a minute and a fucking half, that it caused me to question the filmmaker's competence and humanity. But I didn't give up, and I'm pleased to report that Zip the faux Brando is killed in the next scene.

Barbara Hershey plays a 'collector', the person a loan shark sends if you fall behind on payments. She likes shooting people in the foot. And she used to be an actress.

Seems all the criminals in this film are actually actors, or yearn to be, and low-level mobster Robbie Coltrane is staging David Mamet's American Buffalo. Harry Hamlin, Ian Hart, Debi Mazar, Ron Perlman, Justin Theroux, and Clarence Williams III would die for a role, but they'd rather kill. 

Frogs for Snakes is audacious and pretentious, and whether you'll dig it depends on your willingness to suspend the ordinary rules of the movies. I surrendered after Zip got shot, and enjoyed all the thug-thespians quoting dialogue from The Apartment, Raw Deal, The Third Man, even I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang

It's a gangster movie powered by who'll get which part in the play, instead of by stolen diamonds or a doublecross, and Brando notwithstanding, writer-director Amos Poe knows exactly what he's doing. 

The film's title, by the way, is an allusion to this fine song from the Larks.

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

From Stump to Ship (1930)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

This silent documentary was funded and filmed by Maine timber baron Alfred Ames in 1930, to show how the industry worked. 

It's almost time travel — we see men drop trees with hand saws, horses pull wagons loaded with freshly-dropped tree trunks, the trunks being milled into lumber. We hear stories of the almost unfathomable dangers in this work, and see the literal meaning of the word 'logjam'. 

What's most surprising is that that Ames knows his employees by name, telling us who's sawing trees and working the saw, etc. Then again, it's a publicity film, so everything was probably staged.

There's even a brief acknowledgment of environmental concerns — they've been lumberjacking for 169 years, Ames explains, but "by exercising common sense and practical forestry, we have the finest stand of timber in the northeast United States."

In the movie's first run, Ames brought the reels and a projector and narrated the film in person, but there's no recording of that, so in this version an actor reads the script Ames read on tour. 

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦  

From the Earth to the Moon (1958)

From the title I was expecting golden age science fiction akin to When World Collide or Them or They Came from Beyond Space. No, it's based on a Jules Verne novel, and faithfully set in the 1860s, with horsedrawn carriages and elaborate era costumes and all, and oh my, what an extended yawn. 

Weapons-maker Victor Barbicane (Joseph Cotten) is in a financial decline, since the Civil War has ended and there's less demand for guns and ammo. So he proposes a super-cannon, allowing any country to fire missiles at any other, regardless of distance. To test it, he announces he'll fire a projectile to the moon. People will be aboard, including Barbicane and his rival, Stuyvesant Nicholl (George Sanders).

From there, the plot diverges from the book (which I read in childhood) and the changes are not improvements, but it matters not — the movie was less than fascinating even before leaving the book behind.

It's a dull historical drama crossed with a melodramatic soap opera, with the added subtraction of what's possibly the worst performances I've seen from both Cotten and Sanders.

In a long dramatic scene, there's spacy background music so odd it took a minute to recognize that it's... "Yankee Doodle." Why?

Verdict: NO.

♦ ♦ ♦  

From Time to Time (2009)
Streaming free at YouTube

My wife and I used to watch Downton Abbey on TV — stiff upper lip, what what, a very British drama of fancy people in a castle and their chauffeurs and butling staff. The Mrs enjoyed it more than I did, but I enjoyed it. Verdict for that show: YES.

Julian Fellowes made Downton Abbey, and he made this movie, which seems rather like it at first. It's set in a castle in the sepia-toned 1940s, and it's called 'Green Knowe', because nobody calls their castle 'the castle'. Same as Downton Abbey, times have changed and running a castle is expensive, so they might have to sell the place.

A tart-tongued teenage boy comes to Green Knowe, sees a ghost, and soon there are apparitions from the family's past, involving a blind girl, an escaped slave, and a dastardly butler.

"There's no such thing as always, not on Earth."

It's nostalgically overlit, familiar from other fairy tales, and contains unsafe quantities of saccharin, but with Maggie Smith, Timothy Spall, Dominic West, and Hugh Bonneville, it's watchable.

Verdict: MAYBE.

♦ ♦ ♦  

The Front (1974)

Alfred Miller (Michael Murphy) is a TV writer, but he's been blacklisted as a "communist sympathizer" — the networks have stopped buying his scripts. He still needs to eat and pay rent, and writing is the only work he knows, so he asks childhood friend Howard Prince (Woody Allen) to act as a "front," submitting his scripts as "by Howard Prince."

Howard is a hopeless schlemiel, not at all political, and he's willing to be the pretend-writer, especially since he gets a 10% of every sale. "I'd be paying that much to an agent, anyway," Alfred explains. Always in debt and low on funds, Howard's doing it for the money at least as much as for friendship.

When the topic comes up, some people under a certain age don't even know what McCarthyism or the Hollywood blacklist was, or if they do, they think it was a minor inconvenience. At least, that's been my experience, the few times the topic's come up. This is a good primer on the blacklist, and also a good movie.

Written by Walter Bernstein (Fail Safe, The Molly Maguires, Paris Blues), directed by Martin Ritt (Edge of the City, Norma Rae, Sounder), and co-starring Zero Mostel (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Panic in the Streets, The Producers), Herschel Bernardi (Irma la Douce, Murder by Contract, The Savage Eye), and Lloyd Gough (Storm Warning, Sunset Blvd., Tell Them Willie Boy Is Here), all of whom were blacklisted through most of the 1950s.

What Allen does for the movie is somewhat akin to what Howard does for his friend. The Front tackles a very serious matter — lives and careers were ruined, without even charges or proof, only on the insinuation of even a tenuous connection to communism. A movie made by people who lived through it could easily slip into gloom or self-righteousness, but with Allen in the title role there's a lighter touch, and even some laughs (though this is no comedy).

Verdict: BIG YES.

4/19/2024   

• • • Coming attractions • • •     

The Front Page (1931)
Frozen
(2010)
The Frozen North
(1922)
FTA
(1972)
The Fugitive
(1993)
Fugitives for a Night
(1938)

... plus schlock, shorts, and surprises

— — —
Now accepting recommendations for movies,
especially
starting with the letter 'G'.
Just add a comment, below.
— — —

Illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Arguments & recommendations are welcome, but no talking once the lights dim, and only real butter on the popcorn, not that fake yellow stuff. 
 
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Ah, to be young again...

There are many things I'd do different, smarter, if I could do it all again. There are jobs I should have quit sooner, people I lost contact with, a few people I should've contacted with a punch in the nose, and I regret women I shouldn't have dated, but never mustered the courage to ask out.

The only thing I got absolutely right in my whole dang life was my wife. When she came along for twenty-plus years, life was good. Before and after, not so much.

It's been a good life, though. Haven't been miserable, even during all the years alone. I've always had adequate health, and life's been good to me, so far. 

Looking back on it all this morning, what surprises me is what I miss second most, after my wife:

If by some miracle of modern science fiction my youth could be restored, the very first thing I'd do is take a twenty-second piss.

What a joy that would be, to unzip, drain the spigot, rezip, maybe wash my hands, and be done with peeing in the time it took when I was young — twenty seconds. Even if I'd swallowed eleven cups of coffee or a gallon of Coke, it was always a reliable twenty seconds and zip.

Ah, to be young again...

As a senior citizen, peeing takes about two minutes. Unzip, stand and wait to even start, and once it's underway at a reasonable flow, it quickly tapers down to a trickle.

If I stop while it's trickling, I'll need to pee again in five minutes, so I gotta stand and trickle, stand and trickle, stand and trickle. I'm standing there trickling, looking at the wall, memorizing every smudge on the paint, trickling and trickling and trickling.

Doc prescribed pills several years ago, and the pills reduced my pee-time from two minutes to maybe half that. The prescription was expensive, though, and not covered by insurance even when I had insurance. It wasn't worth the price, for such a slight improvement.

So I stopped taking the pills, and it's two minutes for every pee again. Two minutes just standing there, trickling. If that doesn't seem like a long time to be peeing eight times daily, try it next time you gotta pee — just stand there for two minutes, looking at the wall.

In the middle of the night, I'll usually pee sitting down, because holding a steady aim ain't easy when I'm sleepy and standing for two damned minutes.

This morning, sitting on the toilet in the middle of the night, I fell asleep, and slept soundly for two hours. Woke up with a sore neck, and I'd dreamed of being young again, and peeing quickly.

10/7/2020   
Republished 4/19/2024   

The pros and cons

Again as most days, I remain horizontal in the recliner, sometimes searching the internet for employment, but only for a short while before frustration and boredom pull me back to watching old movies.

I'd like a job, need a job, and if anyone's ever willing to hire me I'll do the job pretty well. Always have.

What I'm less and less willing to do, though, is put any serious effort into looking for a job. That's the conundrum that keeps me unemployed.

A friend was feeling depressed, so I'll give myself the advice I gave her: The best way to beat the blahs is to give up, because once you've given up, you're hardly ever disappointed. So yeah, I've mostly given up.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Night auditor at a hotel. Nope.

Driver for railroad workers. Nope.

Elections worker. Nope.

Data entry for the county courthouse. Nope.

Broom pusher. I ain't picky, but nope.

I file the applications and wait until the end of time. Once in a while there's a call and an interview, and then I wait until the end of time.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Having no car, I skip over any car-required job listings. Obviously.

But having a car is part of American life, and this is America, so HR drones typing up listings sometimes forget to mention that a job requires a car. They assume every applicant comes encased in steel and glass and windshield wipers.

Three times now, I've gotten as far as the job interview before it's revealed that a car is required. The first two no-car rejections at least made sense, since the work actually did require a car. Would've been nice to know before getting my hopes up, but I didn't want to shoot anyone.

It's the third no-car rejection that has me seriously honked off.

I'd chatted with a security guard at the bus station, and his job seemed like it wouldn't be a challenge. He was old like me, said he'd had the job for five years, and never been worse than yelled at. No violence, no courage, so I'm fully qualified, right? And the bus goes right to the bus station, so getting to work would be a breeze.

But the rent-a-cop company simply doesn't hire bus riders. "Too many times," said the lady in the interview, "bus riders are late and say they missed the bus." So, no job there.

No job here, no job there, no job frickin' anywhere. No job east, no job west, no job naked, no job dressed. No job north, no job south, not enough teeth in my mouth. No job sweaty, no job cold, no job for me because I'm old.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

It's only a mental stroll down a dark alley, where the streetlight flickers and there's a rustling in the shadows. A bad daydream is all, and nothing will come of it, I'm sure, but ... I've been playing with the idea of homelessness. Just weighing the pros and cons.

The pros are: No more worries about the rent, no alarm clock, and finally a farewell to my insufferable flatmate Dean. The cons are, of course, everything else.

4/18/2024   

Sondering

We were in our early 20s, me and a friend who'd become a flatmate, and one memorable night we stood on our apartment's balcony, and looked at the freeway traffic in the distance.

What we saw was nothing unusual. You've seen it many times — thousands of vehicles, a river of white headlights coming closer, and red taillights into the distance. You couldn't distinguish individual headlights and taillights, only blurs and colors.

On that particular night, though, we noticed it, thought about it, and we were awestruck. Every pair of those white or red dots was a car, maybe a truck or a bus ... and inside each of those vehicles was at least a driver, perhaps passengers ... and inside each of those humans were plans and disappointments, dreams and mourning, and a billion memories, happy and sad.

No marijuana was involved. Me and my buddy were just a couple of guys who enjoyed heavy thinking, and what we were thinking that night, what I'm thinking now, is this:

There are so many people, some near, but most so far away we'll never know anything about their lives. And each and all of them have their own history and worries and issues that are enormous to them — billions of people, with infinite daydreams and drama and problems you and I know nothing about, and never will.

It blew our minds, as the kids say these days, and I've recently learned that there's a word that comes close to capturing this: 'sonder'

"the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one's own, in which they are the central character and others, including oneself, have secondary or insignificant roles."

It still blows my mind. We share the world with billions of other people, and each of them (unless they're rich) has a life that's complicated and difficult. When they die, same as when you die, the chemistry of their bodies will return to the soil, the sky, the universe. Their problems will be finished, same as yours, and they'll begin to be forgotten, same as you, same as all of us.

We are of no consequence to those who follow into the future, same as individuals from a hundred or a thousand or a hundred thousand years ago are of no consequence to you and I. Our hopes and hassles and heartbreak are only for a moment, until they're swept away by death.

The last time I said some of this to someone, they told me it's a terribly sad perspective, and I need to drink less, or drink more, or see a counselor.

They didn't understand. None of this is sad — it's beautiful. It's brilliant. We live, we fuck things up, maybe we get a few things right, but it doesn't matter outside our own heads and very brief lives.

We have a few laughs, and then we die, we're gone, and everything starts again. And all of us, in the past, the present, the future, are dots on some highway, until the lights flicker out.

7/23/2020  
Republished 4/18/2024  

The French Connection, The Freshman, Friday Foster, and a few more films

Freewheelin' (1976)
Streaming free at Tubi

I wonder sometimes what I missed, beyond sprained ankles, from never learning to skateboard.

This is a mellow mostly-documentary about skateboarding, with several 'name' shredders from the pre-Tony Hawk era, and maybe from before they were 'names'. Stacy Peralta is the main focus, and he's apparently somebody

It's very laid back for what's basically a sports flick, gnarly but wholesome, and narrated by a young woman who might be Peralta's friend, girlfriend, or sister.

NEVERENDING
FILM FESTIVAL
#278  [archive]
APR. 17, 2024

There's sort of a story, as Stacy's fine skateboarding earns him an invitation to tour, but the acting scenes are clumsy. It's only the boarding that's real.

The terminology is so foreign to me it needs subtitles, but it's still fun to watch the action.

It kinda reminds me of the nature documentaries Disney cranked out in the '60s, only with long-hair teenagers instead of forests and animals. There are no hints of marijuana, sex, or anything but life on skateboards, with side trips to related sports like snow skiing, and water and wind surfing.

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

The French Connection (1971)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

Prohibition is stupid, drugs should legalized, and police should respect people's rights, and be fired and prosecuted when they don't. The cops in this movie — Jimmy Doyle (Gene Hackman) and Buddy Russo (Roy Scheider) — are repeatedly caught on camera breaking the law, and should've been out of work before the inevitable sequel. 

"All right, Popeye's here! Get your hands on your heads, get off the bar, and get on the wall!"

And yet, if you yearn for an action drama about out-of-control narcotics cops futilely trying to shut down the heroin supply, well by golly, this is the best of that genre. It's a near-perfect mix of quieter set-up scenes, then tense or violent payoffs, with excellent camerawork and script, and excellent everything, really. When people talk about how good The French Connection is, nobody mentions the music (Don Ellis), but it's terrific, too.

Gene Hackman, Fernando Rey, Roy Scheider, Tony Lo Bianco. Directed by William Friedkin. 

It's all only sad if you stop and think about it, so try not to.

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

French Roast (2008)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

Man drinks coffee in a Parisian cafe, and discovers he's forgotten or lost his wallet. From this comes a brief morality tale that's supposed to be heartwarming, and probably is, but my soul is frozen solid.

This is an 8-minute animated short, done with big-budget CGI, but I dislike the look of it, and of most CGI. It reeks of money over imagination.

Sweet story, though.

Verdict: MAYBE.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Frequency (2000)

Dennis Quaid plays Frank Sullivan, a ham radio buff and New York fireman killed in a big fire in 1969. Thirty years later, his now-grown son pulls the radio gear out of a box, plugs it in, and finds his dead dad on the radio. It's the kind of thing that only happens in the movies.

Quaid is an old shoe — he's been a familiar and friendly presence in movies since I was young, so he's like slipping into your favorite, most comfortable sneakers. I'd watch him in almost anything, even something sorta sucky, like this.

It's too faux nostalgic, has showy camerawork that's distracting, and after the whole Dad's-on-the-radio thing, the story gets even more far-fetched — there's a serial killer on the loose both now and in 1969, and butterfly effects up the yin-yang. 

Jesus Himself (Jim Caviezel) plays Sullivan's adult son. Does that make Quaid his heavenly father?

Verdict: NO, but it reaches right to the cusp of MAYBE.

♦ ♦ ♦  

Fresh Hare (1942)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

Porky Pig is a mountie, on the snow-covered and carrot-baited twail of that wascally wabbit, Bugs Bunny, who's wanted by the law for "conduct unbecoming a wabbit."

It's 6½ minutes of funny, then mildly racist at the end, but you've seen worse racism in old movies.

Directed by Friz Freleng.

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

The Freshman (1925)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

By the best of my recollection, this is the first Harold Lloyd movie I've seen. It's feature-length, not a short, and it's not bad at all, but sometimes it's a while between chuckles.

More than just about anything, Harold wants to go to college, not for an education but to be part of the college social scene, make the football team, and be voted 'most popular'. Instead, absurdities follow other absurdities, and most of the students soon see him as "the college boob." When he tries out for the football squad, he's relegated to being the tackling dummy. Ouch!

There's a big party in formal wear, and lacking a tux Lloyd hires a cheap tailor. The suit isn't ready by the night of the dance, so the tailor follows him around on the dance floor with a needle and thread, making repairs as the fabric rips and buttons pop. Like a lot of this movie, it's amusing, but stretched too long for my 21st-century attention span.

The film's famous final act, some football shenanigans filmed at the Rose Bowl, is a rousing spectacle with laughs, and by the finish it all seems a winner.

Verdict: YES.

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Friday Foster (1975)
Streaming free at Internet Archive

Based on a newspaper comic strip I'd never heard of, Friday Foster (Pam Grier) is a photographer, which would put her on the wrong side of the camera, in my opinion.

Sent to the airport to cover the arrival of a black billionaire, she witnesses a murder and extended gunfight, and of course snaps pictures, so an assassin is after her.

Playing Foster, Ms Greer is smart and stubborn and headstrong, mostly in the traditional female movie star way — barbed remarks, more than gunfights and fisticuffs. She does, however, steal a hearse and a milk truck. When she goes into an LGBTQ bar, she talks to a trans woman and treats her with respect — fifty years ago! 

Two excellent and imaginative deaths, ample action, plus a stellar blaxploitation cast — Godfrey Cambridge, Scatman Crothers, Eartha Kitt, Yaphet Kotto, Ted Lange, Thalmus Rasulala, Carl Weathers, and of course, Jim Backus. Directed by Arthur Marks (Linda Lovelace for President), with a fine funky score by Luchi De Jesus (Black Belt Jones, Detroit 9000).

Verdict: YES.

4/17/2024   

• • • Coming attractions • • •     

The Frightening (2002)
The Fringe Dwellers
(1986)
Fritz the Cat
(1972)
Frogs for Snakes
(1998)
From the Earth to the Moon
(1958)
From Time to Time
(2009)
The Front
(1974)

... plus schlock, shorts, and surprises

— — —
Now accepting recommendations for movies,
especially
starting with the letter 'G'.
Just add a comment, below.
— — —

Illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Arguments & recommendations are welcome, but no talking once the lights dim, and only real butter on the popcorn, not that fake yellow stuff. 
 
← PREVIOUS          NEXT →