Bob Fosse

Star 80 (1983)

Star 80 (1983)

(In French, On Cable TV, June 2019) The early 1980s were an interesting time in Hollywood’s history—a period where there was a battle going on for the soul of Hollywood, lines drawn between the New Hollywood of grimy dark stories, and the purveyors of Pop Entertainment that sought to bring cinema back to its crowd-pleasing origins. We all know how things played out, but even as late as 1983 you could still see movies steeped into 1970s aesthetics and themes. A movie like Star 80, for instance, which details the abusive relationship between a Playboy playmate and her homicidal ex-boyfriend. It’s all based on a true and sad story. (Hugh Hefner and Peter Bogdanovich both show up as characters, with portrayals consistent of what we know of them.)  Given that this is a movie about a centrefold model, expect a fair and persistent amount of nudity—but keep in mind that Star 80 delights in contrasting the eroticism of the lead character with her bloody end, so it’s not exactly wall-to-wall fan service. At times, the film does give the impression of indulging in trash exploitation—the regular cuts from the biographical narrative to the maniacal murderer muttering about his revenge do get a bit ridiculous after a while. Mariel Hemingway is nice and doomed in the female lead role, while Eric Roberts is uncommonly slimy as the prototypical abusive, over-controlling boyfriend from hell. The role is written without any subtlety, and he holds nothing back—giving an intensely unlikable performance that actually quite good from an actor’s perspective but unbearable to the audience. Much of the same can be said about Bob Fosse’s direction: an atypical choice for him, with blunt-edged effectiveness. Pseudo-interviews are interspaced here and there to present the illusion of a documentary and further tie the film to 1970s cinema-vérité style: points given for a collage approach that was relatively new at the time, but still not quite satisfying. The overall effect is, frankly, a bit dull—it doesn’t take a long time to figure out where the thing is going, and the film just keeps going there relentlessly, with little character nuance beyond the angelic victim and the irremediable killer boyfriend. When you look at the way the 1980s turned their back on New Hollywood, you can point in Star 80’s direction as an example of why.

Cabaret (1972)

Cabaret (1972)

(On Cable TV, May 2018) I started watching Cabaret knowing only three big things about it—it stars Liza Minnelli, is popular within the gay community and has been widely hailed as a musical for people who don’t like musicals. Given that I don’t care for Minnelli, I am straight and I do like musicals, I shouldn’t have been surprised by my decidedly unimpressed reaction to the movie. Another one of those “wow, there are a lot more Nazis here than I expected” movies, director Bob Fosse’s Cabaret seems willfully dedicated to the task of deconstructing musicals. It takes places in early 1930s Germany, portraying it as a time when fascism is ascending and debauchery is reaching decadent extremes. Most of the songs are set within a nightclub (with one memorable exception), with much of its romantic plot about a three-way romance between an English writer, an American showgirl and a German aristocrat. So far so good … except that the deconstruction goes all the way. The love story crashes and burns (abortion is involved), while the rest of the film chronicles the way the world is headed toward genocide and war. Cabaret wants you to feel disgusted at its musical numbers: One of them (“The world belongs to me”) is a nightmarish descent from a Bavarian beer party to goose-stepping jingoism, while another (“If you could only see”) is a comedy routine with a vile punchline that is fit to cause nausea. It doesn’t help that despite being soaked in sexualized markers (fishnets, fishnets everywhere!), Cabaret is almost entirely unarousing—Minnelli does nothing for me, and the film goes out of its way to extinguish any sexiness. While it’s easy to respect the final result—including the gut punches of the worst musical number and the unhappy-ever-after ending, I can’t possibly imagine myself willingly seeing Cabaret again any time soon, which is not something I usually say about other musicals.