showbiz

Stream of the Week: MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT – exploding the myths

by
MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT, directed by Robert Anderson Clift and Hilary Demmon

The best documentary in this year’s Frameline festival was Making Montgomery Clift, from directors Robert Anderson Clift and Hilary Demmon. It’s an unexpectedly insightful and nuanced probe into the life of Clift’s uncle, the movie star Montgomery Clift. And it explodes some of the lore that has shaped popular understanding of Montogomery Clift.

Clift is the son of Brooks Clift, Montgomery Clift’s brother and archivist. The younger Clift never met his uncle Monty, but had access to his father’s vast collection of Monty memorabilia and to the memories of family, friends and previous biographers.

Many of us think we know the arc of Montgomery Clift’s life: success as a 1950s movie heartthrob is torpedoed by the inner torment of his closeted homosexuality; then alcoholic self-medication and disfigurement from an auto accident propel him into drunken despair and an early death. It turns out to be a much, much more nuanced story.

It turns out that some in the Clift family indulged in secret audio taping to a jaw-dropping degree. Directors Clift and Demmon take full advantage of the actual conversations of Monty and others. Their gift is to drop in the most startling revelations without lingering or even emphasizing them. To watch Making Montgomery Clift is a constant exercise in “wait…WHAT?” Demmon’s brisk editing helps, too.

How tormented was Monty by his sexuality (which we learn was a robust bisexuality)? Witnesses – who would know – let us know that Monty was comfortable in his own skin and fairly open – for the times – about his sexuality. This wasn’t Rock Hudson or Tab Hunter.

We learn that Montgomery Clift’s refusal to sign a studio contract was to preserve BOTH his artistic independence and his sexual independence (avoiding being forced into faux marriage and the like).

Making Montgomery Clift also discredits the view that Monty sank into depression after the accident changed his looks. His personally most satisfying performances came AFTER the accident.

The insights into Monty’s artistic process are unique and significant. We hear the actual conversation between Montgomery Clift and director Stanley Kramer about Clift’s riveting cameo in Judgment at Nuremberg. Monty’s intentionality in shaping the scene dispels the myth that, instead of giving a performance, he had an actual breakdown before the camera. Yes, he was acting it, and it was spectacular.

There has been a handful of recent showbiz biodocs made by younger relatives of the famous artists. Usually, these films add some personal family anecdotes, but are so fond of their subjects that they’re not especially insightful. Making Montgomery Clift is not that – it ascends above the pack – and should change how all of us understand Monty Clift.

Making Montgomery Clift is available to stream on Amazon.

THE QUIET ONE: resisting flamboyance

by
Bill Wyman in THE QUIET ONE

The title character in the documentary The Quiet One is the Rolling Stones bass player Bill Wyman. Wyman is an anti-flamboyant person at the very core of a circus of hedonistic excess and self-promotion.

Wyman is also an obsessive collector of memorabilia, and, at age 83, he now burrows into his irreplaceable archive of home movies and concert posters. What’s especially interesting in The Quiet One is the history of the Rolling Stones from his sober and humble perspective.

One famous associate says, “Bill never started acting like he’s famous”. Wyman himself says, “I suppose if you looked at my bookshelves you would understand me better.” What we do see is an astonishingly down-to-earth person, seemingly barely changed by stardom. He is honest about two marriage mistakes, one of them fairly appalling.

In the sweetest scene, we get to see today’s Wyman as a devoted fan, choking up while recalling an encounter with Ray Charles.

The Quiet One is a low key movie about a low key guy, and I recommend it to those interested in rock and roll history. The Quiet One is available to stream on Amazon, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.

Bill Wyman and associates in THE QUIET ONE

ECHO IN THE CANYON: a moment in music history

by
Jakob Dylan and Tom Petty in ECHO IN THE CANYON

The documentary Echo in the Canyon explores a moment in music history – the beginnings of folk rock in LA’s Laurel Canyon in the mid-1960s. Think the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, the Mamas and the Papas, all influenced by the Beach Boys and the Beatles.

There are some, but not a zillion, nuggets in the interviews with Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, Michelle Phillips, Eric Clapton, Graham Nash and Brian Wilson.

Jakob Dylan leads a band with Regina Spektor, Beck, Fiona Apple and Cat Power that plays some of the hits from the era. This is an excuse for a soundtrack album, but hardly a significant value add. The exception is singer Jade Castrinos, who seems born to sing the Mamas and Papas songbook, both the Michelle Phillips and Denny Doherty parts.

Echo in the Canyon is moderately interesting to fans of 1960s rock and roll and is available to stream on Netflix, Amazon, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.

PAIN AND GLORY: achingly personal

by
Antonio Banderas in PAIN AND GLORY

In his Pain and Glory, master filmmaker Pedro Almodovar invites us into the most personal aspects of his own life, illuminated by Antonio Banderas’ career-topping performance. Almodovar calls Pain and Glory “auto-fiction”, and Banderas’ central character is a filmmaker clearly modeled after Almodovar himself.

Although Almodovar is known for a fun personality and makes the most exuberant films, we learn that this filmmaker is shy and introverted. He is suffering privately from an assortment of maladies, most importantly with chronic back pain, migraine headaches and depression. Because of the chronic pain and the depression, he has isolated himself in his apartment, blocked from his work and avoiding all social engagement.

The restoration of an early film prods him into planning a public appearance with the film’s star, an actor that he has been estranged from for thirty years; that encounter plunges him into an entirely new strategy of pain management. Almodovar inserts vignettes from his childhood which illuminate his respect and adoration of women and his artistic and sexual awakenings. These flashbacks are brilliant.

Pain and Glory is as beautiful as any Almodovar film. The color palette is far less lushly vibrant than usual for Almodovar, but the more somber look is just as rich.

Banderas has never been better. His longtime close friendship with Almodovar clearly informed this searing performance, both with his close observation of his friend and because he cares for him. This performance will certainly earn Banderas an Oscar nomination.

Pain and Glory is an exquisite film. Some audiences may not want to invest in such a sometimes painful story, deliberately paced as it is. But those who settle in will be rewarded.

LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE: the icon who never played it safe

by
LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE

Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice is the insightful biodoc, based on Ronstadt’s own memoir, and narrated by Ronstadt herself. Ronstadt was the first female mega-rock star, and her story touches on feminism, the Counterculture and pivotal changes in the music industry. The film is comprehensive, tracing her upbringing and her romances with songwriter JD Souther and Governor/Presidential candidate Jerry Brown. The story is also poignant – her Parkinson’s disease has kept her from singing since 2007.

Ronstadt has been the auteur who is able to take someone else’s song and make it into her own art. She’s not a mere cover singer. I recommend listening to the Everly Brothers’ When Will I Be Loved, the Eagles’ Desperado, Dee Dee Warwick’s You’re No Good, Buddy Holly’s It’s So Easy and Little Feat’s Willin’ – and then matching them with Ronstadt’s versions.

Ronstadt is also unusual in that her interests and talent span the genres of pop and rock and country, various subgenres of Mexican music (earning Grammies across musical types) and even Gilbert and Sullivan (Tony nomination).

Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris and Linda Ronstadt in LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE

Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice brings us a deep reservoir of witnesses: Ronstadt family members, Souther, former bandmates Don Henley and Waddy Wachtel, friends and collaborators Emmylou Harris and Dolly Parton. Both Emmylou and Dolly credit Ronstadt with helping them in critical career moments, Emmylou when she was paralyzed by grief and shock from the death of Gram Parsons.

Here’s a wonderful nugget from the film: Ronstadt had grown up in a family that sang Mexican music together, but her interest was rekindled by listening to the late night canciones of Harry Dean Stanton who was living in the garage behind Ronstadt and Souther.

It’s hard to imagine someone who wouldn’t enjoy Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice. And about that final scene of Linda with her nephew and cousin in the living room – just try to hold back the tears.

MAKING WAVES: THE ART OF CINEMATIC SOUND – a movie fan’s primer

by
Steven Spielberg and Saving Private Ryan in AKING WAVES: THE ART OF CINEMATIC SOUND

We usually say that we SEE a movie, but what we hear (or don’t hear) is just as essential to the movie’s impact. The impact of movie sound is SUPPOSED to be subliminal, so we often enjoy a film without appreciating the sound. The documentary Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound is a comprehensive primer on the art and science of movie sound.

Making Waves begins with the first decades of cinema, when movies aspired to include sound with images, but could only be accompanied by live music and live sound effects at their exhibition. Technology caught up in 1926 with synchronization of recorded sound and images.

The end of the studio period in the late 1960s coincided with the arrival of Walter Murch, the genius who invented modern movie sound design. Thankfully, Making Waves serves up plenty of Murch (The Godfather, The Conversation and Apocalypse Now!), before introducing us to Ben Burtt, who won an Oscar in his first gig (Star Wars) and Pixar’s Gary Rydstrom, who pioneered digital sound design. We also see the impact on movie sound of George Martin and the Beatles (multi-track recording), Barbra Streisand (movie exhibition in stereo) and Robert Altman (shooting with multiple mics).

Making Waves is best described as thorough and systematic, and I wouldn’t call it thrilling. But it’s a great choice for anyone who wants to understand and appreciate filmmaking.

There are plenty of cool tidbits, like how Burtt came up with Chewbacca’s vocalizations with the help of a bread-loving bear. And we see Foley artists at work, rolling a pine cone across dry lasagna to create just the right effect.

Making Waves is the feature debut for director Midge Costin and will be released theatrically later this fall. I saw Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound at Cinema Club Silicon Valley, with a Q&A with Costin.

MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT: exploding the myths

by
MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT

The best documentary in this year’s Frameline festival may be Making Montgomery Clift, from directors Robert Anderson Clift and Hilary Demmon. It’s an unexpectedly insightful and nuanced probe into the life of Clift’s uncle, the movie star Montgomery Clift. And it explodes some of the lore that has shaped popular understanding of Montogomery Clift.

Clift is the son of Brooks Clift, Montogmery Clift’s brother and archivist. The younger Clift never met his uncle Monty, but had access to his father’s vast collection of Monty memorabilia and to the memories of family, friends and previous biographers.

Many of us think we know the arc of Montgomery Clift’s life: success as a 1950s movie heartthrob is torpedoed by the inner torment of his closeted homosexuality; then alcoholic self-medication and disfigurement from an auto accident propel him into drunken despair and an early death. It turns out to be a much, much more nuanced story.

It turns out that some in the Clift family indulged in secret audio taping to a jaw-dropping degree. Directors Clift and Demmon take full advantage of the actual conversations of Monty and others. Their gift is to drop in the most startling revelations without lingering or even emphasizing them. To watch Making Montgomery Clift is a constant exercise in “wait…WHAT?” Demmon’s brisk editing helps, too.

How tormented was Monty by his sexuality (which we learn was a robust bisexuality)? Witnesses – who would know – let us know that Monty was comfortable in his own skin and fairly open – for the times – about his sexuality. This wasn’t Rock Hudson or Tab Hunter.

We learn that Montgomery Clift’s refusal to sign a studio contract was to preserve BOTH his artistic independence and his sexual independence (avoiding being forced into faux marriage and the like).

Making Montgomery Clift also discredits the view that Monty sank into depression after the accident changed his looks. His personally most satisfying performances came AFTER the accident.

The insights into Monty’s artistic process are unique and significant. We hear the actual conversation between Montgomery Clift and director Stanley Kramer about Clift’s riveting cameo in Judgment at Nuremberg. Monty’s intentionality in shaping the scene dispels the myth that, instead of giving a performance, he had an actual breakdown before the camera. Yes, he was acting it, and it was spectacular.

There has been a handful of recent showbiz biodocs made by younger relatives of the famous artists. Usually, these films add some personal family anecdotes, but are so fond of their subjects that they’re not especially insightful. Making Montgomery Clift is not that – it ascends above the pack – and should change how all of us understand Monty Clift.

tonight on TV: SAMMY DAVIS, JR.: I’VE GOTTA BE ME: a needy talent through complicated times

by

Still from SAMMY DAVIS JR.: I’VE GOTTA BE ME. Photo courtesy JFI.

Tonight, PBS airs Sammy Davis Jr.: I’ve Gotta Be Me on its American Masters series.  As a Baby Boomer who had dismissed Sammy Davis Jr. from the moment he publicly hugged Richard Nixon, I found this to be the most surprising doc (and my favorite) at last year’s San Francisco Jewish Film Festival. I learned that Sammy’s 61-year career as a professional entertainer began at age three (with his first movie credit at age 7), a working childhood that  left emotional needs  It turns out that Sammy was a very, very talented but needy artist,, an uncomplicated man navigating several very complicated times.

Sammy’s life of entertainment began at 3.  We get to see a clip of him in the 1933 Rufus Jones for President.  All that professional work took away his childhood and engraved upon him a need to please.  That and his generation produced the 50s showbiz style that seemed so insincere to us Baby Boomers.  And, of course that embrace of Nixon seemed to be the ultimate sell-out moment.

Sammy Davis Jr.: I’ve Gotta Be Me also poses whether he was demeaned by Rat Pack humor? Were Frank and Dino laughing at Sammy, or with him?

But this was  an immensely talented man, a masterful dancer with a remarkable crooner’s voice and a gift for mimicry.  He was the first American entertainer of color to do impersonations of white celebrities.   BTW there is some unbelievable dancing in Sammy Davis Jr.: I’ve Gotta Be Me.  We get to see Sammy’s 60th anniversary in showbiz celebrated among a host of celebrities – he still had his dancing chops.

Sammy Davis Jr.: I’ve Gotta Be Me is the story of a man whose success condemned him to a career that spanned generations – none of which fit him comfortably.  It’s a fine and insightful film.

[Random note: This film title may contain the most different punctuation marks of any movie: a comma, a period, a colon and an apostrophe.]

STAN & OLLIE: comic geniuses facing the inevitable

by

Left to right: Steve Coogan as Stan Laurel, John C. Reilly as Oliver Hardy,
Photo by Nick Wall, Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

In Stan & Ollie, Steve Coogan as Stan Laurel and John C. Reilly as Oliver Hardy deliver remarkable portraits of a partnership facing the inevitability of showbiz decline. An iconic movie comedy team, Laurel and Hardy made 107 films, including 23 features. Their run started in 1926 and made the transition into the sound era more successfully than their peers in silent comedy. But by 1945, their popularity was over, and most of Stan & Ollie is set in 1951, when they are trying to rekindle their careers with a British live tour.

Coogan and Reilly’s impersonations (and Reilly’s makeup) are impressive. However, the most interesting aspect to Stan & Ollie is the depiction of the partnership, which like any partnership, is unequal and complementary; each individual has a different personality and a different role. Together, their act was so seamless that we forget that the two, one English and the other from Georgia, were veteran professionals already in their mid-thirties when they hooked up. Hardy was bossy on-screen, but Laurel was the business and creative leader of the team.

In a flashback (during the 1937 filming of Way Out West), we see the two at the height of their career arc. That sets us up to watch the two manage struggle and disappointment later on.

The technical highlight of the Coogan and Reilly performances is a dead-on re-creation of Stan and Ollie’s dance in front of an Old West saloon in Way Out West, a dance which is comic perfection; it’s worth finding Way Out West for the original version of the dance, which is much longer. My own favorite Laurel & Hardy film is the 1933 Pre-Code Sons of the Desert, where the duo mislead their wives to sneak off to the rowdy convention/drinkfest of the titular fraternal organization.

As usual I’ve embedded the trailer for you, but I recommend not watching it if you’re going to see Stan & Ollie – it gives too much away.

GREEN BOOK: we get to spend time with Tony Lip!

by

Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali in GREEN BOOK

Set in 1962, Green Book is the story of Tony Lip (a burly Viggo Mortensen), an Italian-American bouncer at the Copacabana, who is enlisted to accompany a highbrow African-American musician Don Shirley (Mahershala Ali) on a concert tour of the American South.  The title refers to the pamphlet that listed African-American-friendly accommodations in the segregated South.

These guys are an odd couple – one culturally refined and intellectually curious, the other decidedly not.    Tony uses his imposing physical presence, comfort with violence and uncommon chutzpah to navigate life.  Not surprisingly, given his Bronx working class background, he is racist by today’s standard.  Shirley, on the other hand, is a sometimes fastidious Renaissance Man.  Each underestimates the other UNTIL …

Green Book is a great movie because it transcends the odd couple movie formula by probing the depths of these characters.  Tony is irascible and  enjoys disregarding the niceties of rules; early in Green Book, he see him park his car next to a fire hydrant, dump out the contents of a garbage can and then use the can to hood the hydrant.  He knows his way around the world of Wise Guys.  His appetite for his favorite foods (even in mass quantities) is admirable.  He is comfortable in his own skin and resists self-improvement (until he needs some help with romantic letters to his wife).  In Green Book, Tony Lip is not impressed by ANYTHING until he hears Don Shirley play piano.

The hyper-achiever Shirley, in contrast, is decidedly not comfortable in his own skin.  He is isolated from whites by racism and isolated from most blacks culturally.  Shirley is moody – there are multiple roots to his dissatisfaction and unhappiness – and one particular root is revealed later in the film.  Ali’s Shirley flashes an insincere showbiz smile to accept an audience’s applause, but is otherwise obsessed with always maintaining his dignity on his terms.

To their surprise, both men are affected by the other.  As inhabited by Mortensen and Ali, these are two of the most compelling characters in any odd couple movie, road trip movie or civil rights movie.

An early title says that Green Book is “inspired by true story”, and the closing credits show us the real people who are portrayed. Peter Farrelly deserves massive praise for having snagged the rights to this story and recognizing what could be done with it.  Tony Lip is a marvelous character, and Viggo Mortensen’s performance in Green Book is one of the great pleasures of this year in the movies.