Month: September 2022

  • Double Negative: The Black Image & Popular Culture, Racquel J. Gates

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Duke University Press, 2018, 236 pages, ISBN 978-1-4780-0054-9

    I get my book recommendations from the weirdest places, and that’s the fun of it. In early 2022, academic Raquel J. Gates suddenly popped up twice in my pop-culture radar. She was an invited host on Turner Classic Movies, introducing one of my favourite films of the early 1940s—Stormy Weather—in terms I resonated with. And then she showed up again introducing the Criterion Channel’s April 2022 “Beyond Blaxploitation” event, again in a way I found interesting. I looked her name up on Amazon, saw that she had a recent book called Double Negative, and ordered it.

    It turned out to be a great pick. While clearly an academic book (that is: written by an academic, published by a university press, dense in footnotes—45 of the book’s 249 pages are made of notes, references and an index), it’s a breezily readable exploration of cultural issues of relevance to black (and white) America.

    It all gets off to a great start with “Negativity and the Black Popular Culture” as introduction—in a few pages, Gates defines her topic of interest as slightly disreputable culture (I don’t think I can get away with using “ratchetness” in the fullness of the expression as she does)—mirroring Chris Rock with Katt Williams, going from Flava Flav to Barack Obama as black signifiers, and going from those examples to a broader discussion of the African American community as encompassing and embracing all of those examples—from the reality TV “housewives” to the aspiration represented by the Ava Duvernay Barbie, with so-called negative portrayals of blackness often making space for charged discussions that would not occur in more genteel settings. There’s some thick material for thought here, engaging with the cultural vernacular and contextualizing it against history, politics and the media.

    The rest of the book works within that context. Chapter 1 tackles a close examination of Coming to America, and specifically how Eddie Murphy influenced the meaning of the film over its (white) director John Landis. Chapter 2 is about a quartet of “sellout films of the 1990s” (less familiar titles that had a fraught relationship with black identity). Chapter 3 studies the performances of Halle Berry, both as an actress and as a celebrity, charting a complicated history regarding her acceptance and roles as a black actress. Finally, the last chapter delves into black reality television—specifically Love & Hip Hop and Basketball Wives—, finding much value in so-called lowbrow culture. An envoi discussing Empire felt timely given the book’s publication date.

    Having seen the film not too long ago, I found the Coming to America discussion fascinating—especially in attempting to establish the primary influences on the film and how that has helped it become a major touchpoint for Black America. While the first chapter had me nodding along at familiar material, the second had me taking notes on unfamiliar and decidedly lower-profile movies. The Halle Berry chapter was a great exercise in making interesting arguments out of familiar tabloid and entertainment news. I was slightly less compelled by the reality TV chapter, but that’s largely for lack of familiarity with the shows being discussed. (Although I was back on-board in discussing Empire, having seen all of its first season.)

    I am not doing Gates a favour by summarizing Double Negative so succinctly, because there is a lot of fascinating material here. Trying to give a longer summary would probably expose how I haven’t understood a single thing about the book (a fair charge, given how far I am from the topics of the book as a white French-Canadian man). But what I can articulate is just how much fun the book is to read. There’s a welcome mixture of academic rigour and popular accessibility here, with the sometimes-exasperating academic trait of overly explaining things here coming across as an enthusiastic invitation to match Gates’ understanding of the topics being discussed.

    I’ve read too many engaging academic papers to be surprised at just how much Double Negative held my attention, but even by those standards it’s an unusually successful melding of intellectual firepower and cultural awareness. There’s a good idea on every other page, and Gates weaves everything into a compelling narrative. At a time where cultural discussions online seem to be all rapid-fire hot takes with considerable velocity but no depth, it was a treat to sit back with a sustained, well-articulated argument that really dug into its examples of discussion, finding nuance and context in unusual places. It’s unusually interesting to be asked to reconsider what’s accepted to be good and what’s accepted to be bad and how this leads us to different places in defining meaning. Flava Flav is no Sidney Poitier, but then again no one is either Flava Flav or Sidney Poitier, and the drive to define blackness by its more admirable examples is also a disservice to everyone.

    I was so impressed after reading the book that I then did something unusual—I tracked down Gates’ email address and sent a fan letter. I don’t usually do this, but it felt like a nice gesture to let someone know when they’ve done something great. And now I’m taking my message to you, dear readers—if you have any interest in the racial cultural discourse in the United States, Double Negative should be on your reading list. Heck, if you’ve even seen Coming to America or Halle Berry or Empire, there’s something for you here as well. Accept random reading recommendations—you never know where they’ll take you.

  • Black Samson (1974)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) Considering how much of blaxploitation has been repurposed as cultural icons, it’s surprising that Black Samson isn’t better known. It has a remarkable character—a nightclub owner with a large afro, a pet lion and a prized quarterstaff he uses as a primary weapon. There’s also something very straightforward in the film’s premise, as Samson defends his (black) neighbourhood against (white) mobsters, eventually leading to the film’s best scene in which the people rise up and rain retribution down on the invaders. Rockne Tarkington plays Samson with plenty of attitude and rough manners. The film is about as peak blaxploitation at it comes—not necessarily a great one (it takes itself too seriously for its topic matter—more comedy would have transformed the film) but a representative low-budget effort that goes down well and definitely takes you to the genre’s heydays. Black Samson could have been better, but is already not too bad—and with a sense of style that makes its relative obscurity all the more confounding.

  • Mata Hari (1931)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) An older film being regarded as respectable and well-made (for the time) doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s going to be fun or entertaining. As much as a film about infamous female WW1 spy Mata Hari was a commercial inevitability, this Greta Garbo starring vehicle often feels like an ordeal to watch. Saddled with early-1930s technical issues and a lack of cinematic flow, it’s a film not helped in the slightest by the decision to tailor the Hari story to Garbo’s persona. The film clearly reflects her famously humourless sensibilities—it’s plodding, overly serious, highly melodramatic and deliberately engineered as a romantic tragedy without really getting into what made Hari so interesting. It’s also neutered by design—maybe even double-neutered considering that the film was shaped not to ruffle critics despite the erotically charged nature of Hari’s accomplishments; and then the film as shown today is missing roughly three minutes of footage cut off during the Production Code era. Put all of this together and you end up with a nonsensical film—an uninteresting movie about a fascinating person. Director George Fitzmaurice spends all of his time focused on Garbo, and misses that Hari should have been the centre of a wide web. Mata Hari was a success back then, and continues to attract attention for Garbo-philes, but it’s often a stupefying bore.

  • Parents (1989)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) If you read a lot of my horror movie reviews, you will definitely get the sense that I loathe slasher films. But as it turns out, there are quite a few more categories to include in my “horror genre I dislike” marathon, and one of them has to be cannibalistic horror. Most of them have the added disadvantage of being flat-out terrible and with ultra-gory effects (a third “hated horror” category) but Parents isn’t like that—even if I still don’t like it. Being discriminate in its killings, much of the film is a suspense thriller from the perspective of a ten-year-old boy who begins to suspect, after a move from the East Coast to California, that his parents may be cannibals. (Body parts hanging on a meat hook in the basement aren’t the most subtle home decoration choice.)  His paranoia is justified, though, and the film’s big brutal kill happens at the right moment for him to burn the house down, which may not resolve the problem. Parents is supposed to be a comedy and occasionally attempts to be, but with material like that it’s difficult to see just where the comedy (even if black) would fit with boyish suburban cannibalistic paranoia. Eating Raoul it isn’t, and it’s easy to compare the urban snarkiness of that better film with the unfocused nature of this one. Most surprising, perhaps, is how the film was directed by Bob Balaban, an actor whose screen persona doesn’t really match this material. (His second directorial effort was a zombie film, so go figure.)  There are, to be sure, some mildly effective visual moments along the way—but the end result is mean, disturbing and repulsive, without much of a payoff. Parents, in other words, is definitely not changing my opinion on cannibal horror movies.

  • The Easiest Way (1931)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) I don’t particularly care for The Easiest Way as a movie: it’s slow even at 73 minutes, moralistic, light on memorable writing and doesn’t make much of an impression in the end. But there’s certainly something interesting about it in a wider context. For one thing, this Pre-Code drama isn’t as knee-capped as later movies in discussing the appeal for young women to be kept by older richer men. (That’s the titular “easiest way” to make a living.)  Constance Bennett plays a cute girl from a poor family, and for her the moral calculation is easy when an older man (Adolphe Menjou) comes knocking for some, ahem, knee-knocking. Meanwhile, her sister takes the righteous path by marrying a young man with bright career prospects. The fates of both sisters are repeatedly contrasted throughout the film until the very end, where virtue is rewarded and the easiest way is revealed to lead nowhere good. In a blatant way, The Easiest Way is both salacious and moralistic—thrilling audiences with a girl turning to socially-discouraged ways to make a living, while comforting the moralists that she has learned her lesson in the end. It’s hypocritical… and it’s pure Hollywood tradition all up to today’s Lifetime movies showing both the thrill of the illicit, and the retribution that comes afterwards. As I said: The Easiest Way isn’t much of a film by itself (although this being one of Clark Gable’s earliest films may add to the appeal of seeing Bennett and Menjou and Robert Montgomery), but it is a good example of a timeless Hollywood tradition, perhaps slightly more enjoyable than similar films made during the Production Code era by virtue of being able to lean more strongly on its highlighted vice.

  • From the Hip (1987)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) It’s amazing, looking back at childhood (and teenhood) film memories, what stuck and what didn’t. There are great movies I know I’ve seen as a boy but have almost no memory of, while Soul Man and Police Academy remain vivid. I can’t explain it. But I can tell you that I was delighted by watching the first few minutes of From the Hip and going “That’s it! That’s the movie with the scene of the guy waking up his wife by dumping an ice-cold pan of water on her!”  The charm of recognition helps explain why I think so well of the film, even if it’s not generally well-regarded by reviewers. I can understand the sentiment: In this legal comedy, Judd Nelson plays a showboating young man who manufactures his lucky breaks and shamelessly goes over-the-top in the courtroom. It doesn’t take a law degree to understand that the film is a pure fantasy most of the time, with antics that would be unacceptable if it wasn’t for movie-magic moments. But here’s the thing: it’s a lot of fun. There’s something that I find engrossing in the protagonist’s determination, the quality of the dialogue, and the escalating tension of the film as it shifts from fluffy comedy to a courtroom suspense with a real antagonist. There are many great moments, such as John Hurt’s soliloquy on how he could hypothetically be the murderer, that may feel out-of-tone with the rest of the film but nonetheless have their own compelling power. Best of all, however, is the characters’ likability despite the contrived script: Despite having theoretically already seen the film (even if I didn’t remember anything from the second half), I got surprisingly engrossed in what was happening. Sure, there’s something that doesn’t quite work in those final ten minutes—bits of staging, escalation of rhetoric, or something like that. But in the end—I liked From the Hip. No shame, no further elaboration.

  • Bullets or Ballots (1936)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) The main draw of Bullets or Ballots is right there above the marquee—Humphrey Bogart and Edward G. Robinson. This would not be the only or their best pairing, but it was the first, and considering how it came before Bogart’s persona-defining superstardom, it’s remarkable to see how assured and, yes, Bogart-ish he feels here. The story itself won’t feel particularly distinctive to fans of 1930s gangster movies: Robinson plays a tough police detective who gets “fired” from the force before joining the mob, while Bogart is a gangster convinced that the newcomer’s allegiances are still with the police. To say that it’s from Warner Brothers would be redundant, so closely does it follow the Warner gangster film formula. Still, it’s moderately entertaining: with Joan Blondell as an attractive moll, the film has all it takes to do what audiences at the time expected. It still works—a bit rough around the edges and clearly dated to a period sheen, but still effective when it counts. Bogart and Robinson would meet a gain a few times, but with Bogart’s status rising higher and higher each time.

  • King Creole (1958)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) There are roughly two reasons to see King Creole, and both of them have to do with Elvis Presley. For one thing, it’s one of the most drama-heavy films in Presley’s filmography: Dating from a brief moment in his career when he was still aspiring to dramatic range, it has Presley playing a teenage New Orleans hoodlum who gets involved both with performing and organized crime. All shot in black-and-white by noted veteran director Michael Curtiz. In a sense, it’s the closest Presley ever got to playing in a film noir, or in a substantial teenage rebellion film—it may be a musical vehicle at times (with musical numbers integrated in the narrative), but it’s not as fluffy and meaningless as other films he’d later do. So that’s one reason. The second one is far funnier: if you ever wanted to see a movie scene in which Elvis Presley beats up Walter Matthau in a fist-fight, then this is the film for you. I know, I know—it sounds too good to be true, but the evidence is right there. The fight is not necessarily the reason why King Creole is often mentioned as Presley’s overall best movie, but it certainly drives the point that it remains a tougher, rougher role for him. There are plenty of dramatic complications, romantic choices to be made between a girl-next-door and a gangster moll, a future to be decided between singing and remaining a young thug. Pre-Army Presley deals well with the challenges, although he’s clearly still new at this acting business. Still, the result is honourable, and honourable would prove to be a high bar considering the Elvis films that would later follow. If you have one Elvis film to see, well, make it Viva Las Vegas. But if you’re looking for a second, King Creole is it.

  • Professional Sweetheart (1933)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) Even if Pre-Code romantic comedy Professional Sweetheart isn’t much of a movie, there’s something charming in its depiction of radio stardom, corporate sponsors and the urban/rural divide that makes it feel more expansive than it is in a mere 72 minutes. Ginger Rogers, in one of her earliest starring roles, plays a radio singer with naughtiness on her mind whose public image needs a squeaky-clean makeover (timeless story there). So, the sponsors go out of their way to find her a clean-cut “Anglo-Saxon” partner (the film’s words, not mine) in her geographically-itemized fan mail… except that the chosen man isn’t too comfortable with the speedy arrangement and has a talent of his own. It escalates steadily until they retreat to Kentucky, and one or the other threatens to walk away from the sponsored show. It ends with several mergers and unions as a comedy should, even if the initial bite of the film gets steadily softened throughout the narrative in order to end on a note that will make everyone happy. Still—Rogers is not bad, Norman Foster plays the aw-suck archetype (with a penchant for poetry) rather well, and Zasu Pitts has a turn as an obnoxious radio reporter. There’s also Theresa Harris in a short but likable turn as a maid, sadly uncredited because black actresses at the time were not often credited even when playing roles with narrative importance. (Harris’ biography is quite interesting—small roles in a few well-known movies from the 1930s–1940s and she knew what game she was playing, eventually retiring comfortably from her investments.)  In many ways, Professional Sweetheart feels like a typical Hollywood romantic comedy—mismatched protagonists, false romantic pretenses, steadily generic storyline and all—but its satirical setting in the 1930 radio industry is still distinctive enough to set it slightly apart.

  • L’une chante l’autre pas [One Sings, the Other Doesn’t] (1977)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) At this point, I’m really watching Agnes Varda movies out of a sense of completionism. I don’t really like what she does (i.e.: they’re not movies made for me) but she’s an important filmmaker, and I have to see what the fuss is about. L’une chante l’autre pas is in many ways a very Varda film — it’s a slice-of-life narrative following two young women over 14 years, through the tumultuous changes in French society between the early 1960s and mid 1970s. It’s not an uneventful period for the leads either, as they go through romantic partners, heartbreak, career changes and disconnections. It’s not a big film, but that’s fine—it’s best taken as a character study or simply the anatomy of a friendship. It’s completely feminist in that it’s a 1977 film by and about women in which the men are, at best, the annoying ones, but it doesn’t feel particularly militant: perhaps because such things are far more common now. Its atmosphere has also solidified in an eloquent period piece, which is about the best one can hope for over the long run. No, I’m still not a Varda fan—but well-mastered films like L’une chante l’autre pas are enough to keep me watching.

  • In the Mouth of Madness (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (Second viewing, On DVD, September 2022) I had been waiting a while to revisit In the Mouth of Madness. My first viewing, back in 1994, was almost accidental: My friends were going to the movies and I didn’t want to see the one they were going to, so I picked the most interesting thing on the schedule. It’s fair to say that my mind was blown by the end of that accidental viewing—the combination of apocalyptic horror, Lovecraftian horror and metafictional playfulness (all at a time when such things weren’t as popular in pop-culture) had me raving about the result for a while. I bought the DVD around 2010 when the area’s Blockbusters shut down, but didn’t watch it until now—probably because it became one of my “break glass in case of emergency” films lurking on my shelves, just waiting for an ideal occasion. Well, such “ideal occasion” stuff is counterproductive: Every day you’re alive is an ideal occasion. I’m not sure what pushed me (maybe the thought that there wasn’t a review of the film on this site), but I dared revisit In the Mouth of Madness. Would it be as good as the first time? Would it have aged well in a century of commodified spectacle? I shouldn’t have doubted: sure, In the Mouth of Madness has its rough moments: some of the early-digital special effects aren’t that special anymore, and you can imagine that the apocalypse presented in the film’s final act would have been far more expansive at a time of cheap CGI. But director John Carpenter (working from a good script by Michael de Luca) makes the last of his great movies here: a nightmare given form in deliciously playful way, with reality blending with dreams and fiction in a deliriously fun way. There’s a solid cast of characters as well: Sam Neill headlines as a private investigator asked to find a missing horror writer, but there are noted moments for Julie Carmen, David Warner, Jürgen Prochnow, Bernie Casey and Charlton Heston as well. But it’s really the script that shines here. Yes, I could think of a few ways to make it better (more New-Englandish, anyway, and far more horrifying toward the end), but as a completed piece of work there’s not a lot to dislike about In the Mouth of Madness. Like a lot of films that I loved upon theatrical release despite lukewarm reviews, I’m happy to note that its reputation has considerably improved over the years—it remains a solid, unconventional horror film well worth tracking down. I’ve trodden light on plot spoilers because part of the appeal of the film is how it turns narrative inside-out. Track it down and watch it: you shouldn’t regret it.

  • Payment Deferred (1932)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) I had to watch Payment Deferred three times before getting to the end of it. Part of it had to do with going to bed too late and then falling asleep in front of the TV the next day—but part of it also had to do with the film being less interesting than anticipated, executed in the monotonous, monochromatic, monaural style of most early-1930s films. What bright spot it has is Charles Laughton in the lead role, as a meek bank clerk who accidentally benefits from an impulsive murder (Pre-Code !). While the incident has its financial rewards, things soon spin out of control as the wages of sin come knocking, and murder tends to be a solution to many, many problems. Somehow billed as a comedy in the TV guide, Payment Deferred ends up being a very, very mild thriller. Despite a running time under 80 minutes (depending on the version you watch), it feels rather long and ordinary—although that may just be me waiting for the promised comedy to kick in. I eventually finished it from beginning to end, but the effort may not have been worth it.

  • Paperhouse (1988)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, September 2022) As fantasy films go, Paperhouse is more oneiric and horrific than most—it revolves around a little girl whose drawings become dreams that can affect reality, with 1988-vintage special effects trying to keep up with that premise. The fantasy aspect becomes dark at times, as the girl maybe invents people and maybe resolves conflicts in her life through dream combat. Director Bernard Rose clearly tries his best here, but Paperhouse strikes me as the kind of film that could benefit from a state-of-the-art-SFX remake to free up the imagination of the screenwriters and let the film go to the end of those ideas. Until then, it does remain a bit of a curio—a little-known late-1980s fantasy film closer to the dark fantasies of Guillermo del Toro or Neil Gaiman, with a keen interest in getting into a child’s inner world. Still, it’s not bad—surprisingly interesting, in fact.

  • Anthony Zimmer (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) It took far too long for me to realize that twisted-identity French thriller Anthony Zimmer was the original inspiration for The Tourist—but by the time the mystery of whether our meek protagonist was the titular big-shot criminal Zimmer was laden on thick with additional romantic complications, well, even I could see the similarities with The Tourist’s Johnny Depp, Angelina Jolie and Venice. This original version doesn’t have Venice, but I prefer Sophie Marceau to Jolie, and Yvan Attal is a far better fit than Depp for the role of an “accountant” supposed to pass unnoticed anywhere he goes. In many ways, Anthony Zimmer is a big ball of nonsense—nonsense in matters of plastic surgery, of thriller elements, of romantic complications. But it’s nonsense that works relatively well once the premise is launched and the hunt is on. Writer-director Jérôme Salle keeps things at a steady simmer—no big action beats, but steady building tension. It’s not that pretentious, and works rather well as such.

  • Whistling in the Dark (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2022) I’ve gone about this Whistling series all wrong—I first watched the last entry Whistling in Brooklyn, then made my way back to the second film Whistling in Dixie, and am now just watching the first, Whistling in the Dark. Ah well—it’s not as if they have a strong sense of narrative continuity. As with the rest of the series, we have Red Skelton mugging for the camera as a radio show writer/host known for murder mysteries featuring “The Fox”—a reputation that lands him in troublesome circumstances when a cult kidnaps him so that he can formulate the perfect murder. It’s all rather entertaining—at least if you’ve reached some kind of tolerance for Skelton’s shameless showboating. What I liked most about this entry is that it eventually becomes a comic early-1940s techno-thriller: one of the showcase sequences late in the film has the protagonist repurposing a radio’s wiring to make a phone call (frantically rearranging the wires every time they want to hear what the other party is saying), and getting on the air of a radio show as a way to reach someone on a plane somehow listening to the show. It’s convoluted, charmingly dated and yet still a pretty clever example of comedy writing tapping into the time’s high technology. Skelton, significantly, plays “The Fox” as a smarter-than-usual character for him, while his companions are also entertaining in their own way. We see the origin story of a few characters in later films (most notably Rags Ragland’s thug character becoming an assistant in the sequels) and having Ann Rutherford as the female lead is always fun. Whistling in the Dark wasn’t made to be a great movie—it was a Skelton vehicle more than anything else, even if I suspect that the screenwriters had fun bringing back a few early-1930s horror clichés in watered-down format. (There was an earlier version of the same story in 1933, albeit Skelton-less.)  The result in no cinematic classic, but it’s fun to watch, and Skelton is very tolerable even for those viewers who usually find him irritating.