Month: February 2021

  • Page Miss Glory (1935)

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) While I like 1930s comedies a lot more than you’d think, an issue I’m noticing from those films is that they are frequently featureless from an audiovisual perspective compared to later movies. This is not a criticism — more an acknowledgement that technical means being limited at that time, 1930s films work within a narrow range of audiovisual constraints, something that can be further throttled by films that have not been (or cannot be) restored. It’s almost all black and while, or rather shades of gray with very little dynamic range. The audio is usually scratchy, with very little range between the highs and the lows. Soundtracks are usually made of classical music pieces with few variations. The result, unfortunately, means that movies of that era will not catch your eyes and ears as well as later films — if you happen to be distracted, the film will not draw you back in through an arresting colour scheme, flashing lights, loud noises, catchy songs or any of the techniques that decades of filmmaking have perfected. I’m bringing this up regarding Page Miss Glory not only as an example of a widespread issue, but also to explain why, despite a promising plot in which a made-up star has to be played by a real person, the film had a really hard time keeping my attention. There’s no real reason, from a script-centric point of view, why it should be so: the story itself still has some originality, the stars are fine (including Marion Davies, Pat O’Brien and Dick Powell), director Mervyn LeRoy’s work is adequate for the time… but the film itself seems to flitter away at the slightest distraction. I could, I suppose, watch Page Miss Glory again under the strictest constraints to give it my full attention. Or I could just complain about its relative flatness.

  • Wasted! The Story of Food Waste (2017)

    Wasted! The Story of Food Waste (2017)

    (On TV, February 2021) It’s difficult not to feel pangs of waste of an entirely unintended sort when watching Wasted! The Story of Food Waste, as the late great Anthony Bourdain (who committed suicide in 2018) begins the film by wondering if we even deserve to live and concludes it on a spectacularly dark comic riff on how a film built to his specifications would have viewers kill themselves. Ouch. Still, there’s a great documentary beyond those unfortunate allusions, as directors Anna Chai and Nari Kye explore the roots and solutions to the problem of food waste. The statistics are horrifying (a full third of all food produced is never eaten), and they’re not solely made of people throwing away what’s rotten in the fridge: Whether we’re talking about farms throwing away most of what they grow, of a production chain discarding useful by-products, of supermarkets overstocking and then throwing away unsold food or, indeed, of household food waste, Wasted! examines the problem at all levels, and also offers a number of solutions, both systemic and personal. Celebrity chefs make up a good chunk of the talking heads featured in the film — as they repeat, chefs are trained to waste as little as possible, and they know what’s delicious to eat and what’s not. As someone who gardens, owns and fills up a full-sized composter, I hardly need to be told about the personal aspect of avoiding food waste. But the film does treat it as a systemic problem first, and the solutions (in order: Feed People; Feed livestock; use as fuel; compost; never to landfill) are used to structure the film itself. Peppered with Bourdain’s typically likable narration, the film takes us around the world in search of solutions and ideas. Wasted! The Story of Food Waste is a good overview to an underreported (but immediately relatable) problem, and it’s frequently an eye-opener. If nothing else, I’ll try to feed my composter less often from my kitchen.

  • A Man Called Adam (1966)

    (On Cable TV, February 2021) I started watching A Man Called Adam with the intention of paying tribute to Cicely Tyson—who had died a few days before—but was quickly hooked by Sammy Davis Jr.’s performance as a difficult jazz musician having trouble keeping his life together. Tyson is very good in a role that anticipates a later generation of black actresses, but Davis is incandescent in a dramatic role far removed from his comedic fare. The film obviously aims to portray a realistic slice of life for black jazzmen in the 1960s, and the somewhat disappointing production values (4:3 ratio, fuzzy black-and-white visuals, unpolished direction from Leo Penn) add to the cinema-vérité atmosphere of the result. A Man Called Adam takes on explicitly racial themes (anticipating some of the most celebrated mainstream movies of the next few years) and makes them an integral part of a jazz movie. The musical aspect of the film can’t be sufficiently praised, with performances by a few musical legends (Louis Armstrong, Mel Tormé, Frank Sinatra Jr.) along with seasoned actors such as Ossie Davis and Ja’net DuBois. The film doesn’t shy away from the racism experienced by its protagonists, especially when it comes to policemen and club owners as they tour the south. But the protagonist doesn’t take it lying down, which eventually counts as a fatal flaw leading to an ending that feels inevitable. A Man Called Adam is not always easy to watch — the protagonist is remarkably self-destructive in the “tortured artist” mould (along with a Defining Trauma that seems almost too convenient) and viewers will echo the supporting characters who often just have enough of the protagonist’s nonsense. The film itself is uneven: despite being progressive in the ways it openly discusses racism, the stop-and-start rhythm of the film is not helped along by the pauses required by the (great) musical performances, or the quasi-caricatures often featured. Still, I’m happy to have watched it — A Man Called Adam is more memorable than many other films of its time, and I’ve gained a whole new appreciation for Davis, along with an impressive turn from Tyson.