Movie Review: Jersey Boys (2014)

by Tony Dayoub

Clint Eastwood, a usually reliable filmmaker, is virtually invisible while directing Jersey Boys, an adaptation of the Broadway musical depicting the rise and ultimate dissolution of the rock/doo-wop icons, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Instead, Eastwood stands aside in deference to the material, a by-the-numbers biopic that would be merely serviceable were it not for the group's memorable music. Thanks to the Internet, though, you can queue up "Rag Doll", "Dawn", "December, 1963", or any other Four Seasons song on iTunes or YouTube any old time. So what's left is a mildly interesting story that isn't unique enough to stand above your typical Lifetime TV movie.

Movie Review: Saving Mr. Banks (2013)

by Tony Dayoub

Sometimes, the cycle of a film's reception seems to run from praise to backlash and back again even before the movie is released. Such is the fate of Saving Mr. Banks, a charmer of a movie that is also a surprisingly well constructed story about Walt Disney's pursuit for the rights to adapt Mary Poppins from her skeptical author, P.L. Travers (Emma Thompson). Unsurprisingly, most of the pushback stems from the rapacious corporatism many accuse the Disney company of in general and its need to buff up their founder's image to get more specific. I point you to a video by author and occasional movie critic Harlan Ellison for that take on the film, because no one can express it quite as well as he does and because I don't necessarily disagree. Let's just say that yes, Saving Mr. Banks is as much a fairy tale as Disney's animated product tends to be. But I still found it to be a moving film worth visiting and revisiting in the future.

Seventies Cinema Revival: Nashville (1975)

by Tony Dayoub

"Only time I ever went hog-wild... around the bend... was for the Kennedy boys. But they were different."

In a way, Robert Altman's Nashville is a bookend to 1970's M*A*S*H, which addressed the country's misgivings about Vietnam behind the smokescreen of the Korean War and a madcap mobile surgical unit operating in Southeast Asia. While the city of Nashville is a much smaller canvas, it stands in for a more expansive concept, contemporary America at its Bicentennial. The memorable cast of characters—sycophantic lawyer Delbert Reese (Ned Beatty), womanizing folk singer Tom Frank (Keith Carradine), Napoleonic country star Haven Hamilton (Henry Gibson)—rival those of M*A*S*H in terms of eccentricities and surpass them in number. They form a microcosm of the country after the disillusionment of Watergate, the collapse of the idealism of the 60s, the assassinations that marked that era, a satirical apotheosis of all of the critiques Altman and screenwriter Ring Lardner, Jr. first lobbed at the country in M*A*S*H.

TV Directors at the Movies: Les Misérables (2012) and Not Fade Away (2012)

by Tony Dayoub

I skipped the Golden Globes last night. Instead I had a wonderful night out with my wife. Without the kids. We ate at a romantic restaurant on the river, had drinks without straws sticking out of them and everything. Of course, maturity went out the window once we made it to the main event, a wonderful one-man show starring my childhood hero, William Shatner. Anyway, talk of his TV days, coupled with the awards won by Les Misérables last night, put me in the mindframe of looking at two TV directors and their approach to the recent theatrical releases they helmed.

Movie Review: Party Girl (1958)

by Tony Dayoub

Halfway through Nicholas Ray's Party Girl, the film's big baddie, prohibition-era Chicago wiseguy Rico Angelo (Lee J. Cobb), holds a banquet honoring one of his henchmen. Angelo is the type of street tough you'd expect to find in this opulent MGM picture, one which bears little resemblance to the kind of real-life thug he's meant to represent. Up until this moment in the film, the eccentric Angelo (who we're introduced to at a party he throws for himself after actress Jean Harlow, unknowing object of his affections, gets married) has talked the talk—all "youses" and "dat guys"—but hasn't really come across as very threatening. Even his crippled lawyer, the lame Tommy Farrell (Robert Taylor), is unafraid to openly admit he'll defend the creep, but he won't sit to eat with him because Angelo is a "slob." So Party Girl finally gets a bit of a charge in this banquet scene, where Angelo is awarding an employee with a trophy shaped like a miniature pool cue, before his cadence and demeanor begin to turn from complimentary to seethingly resentful. Anyone who's seen Brian De Palma's The Untouchables will figure out what happens next, for this scene surely inspired it—Angelo begins beating his flunky with the pool cue until the poor sap lays bleeding in front of his horrified confreres.

Nicholas Ray Blogathon: Hot Blood (1956)

by Tony Dayoub

Those who've wished Nicholas Ray would turn his eye for color towards that most saturated of genres, the musical, can see the result in Hot Blood. And it's... not that great. Coming off the success of Rebel Without a Cause doubtless allowed the often embattled director to pursue his creative whims unopposed. And in this case, he turned to a project on the Romani—more popularly referred to by the derogatory term of Gypsies—long enough in development that the majority of the research was done by Ray's first wife, Jean Evans, whom he had divorced in 1940. Hot Blood began life as the sort of ethnography that one might be able to place next to other works of his like 1952's The Lusty Men (about rodeo riders) or 1961's The Savage Innocents (the Inuits). Except that Ray's affinity for folk music and his burgeoning foray into color cinematography likely got in the way and muddled this romance up. "Good" and "bad" are relative, though. For Jane Russell, this was probably a "good" picture. For Cornel Wilde, this was probably a not-so-"good" movie. And for Ray, with plenty of flawed features to be found in his filmography, this was still most definitely a "bad" one. And to think, it's sandwiched right between two of his best motion pictures, Rebel and Bigger Than Life. Still, its influence can obviously be found in at least two ethnic musicals, West Side Story (1961) and Fiddler on the Roof (1971). I'd even argue that its presence is felt in a scene from the James Bond series, the lurid gypsy catfight setpiece in From Russia With Love (1963) (featuring a young Martine Beswick).

Since I've said about all I have to say on Hot Blood, let's look at its pretty screen captures, after the jump...

Blu-ray Review: Black Orpheus (Orfeu negro) (1959)

by Tony Dayoub

Sometimes our intellectual sophistication can get in the way of enjoying an entertaining film on the uncomplicated level of "pure cinema." This conflict is more pronounced when a movie with a tinge of social realism could be tagged as profoundly naive, as is the case of Criterion's Blu-ray release this week, Black Orpheus (Orfeu negro). However, reframe the film as a musical, one driven by the burgeoning sounds of the Bossa nova and samba, and one's perspective on Black Orpheus might shift rather mightily.

Blu-ray Review: The Red Shoes (1948)

by Tony Dayoub

I've always gravitated to escapist cinema, whether the genre is horror, science fiction, the surreal, the western, or in this case, the musical. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Red Shoes is definitely the ultimate movie about dance, ballet in particular. But as David Ehrenstein points out at the start of a brilliant essay included in Criterion's upcoming Blu-ray reissue of the film:

It is a kind of musical, a mainstream favorite, as well as a Technicolor spectacular. But musical generally comes as a hyphenate with comedy attached to it. The Red Shoes is drama.

It precedes the colorful MGM spectacles so prevalent throughout the fifties, directly inspiring An American in Paris (1951) for one. However, it is the psychodrama at the root of this fairy tale adaptation which gives the film its weight, both visually and subtextually.

Blu-ray Review: A Star is Born (1954)

by Tony Dayoub

Warner Home Video again does a fabulous job in bringing a "classic" film to Blu-ray with the second version of A Star is Born. If you're wondering why I placed the word classic in quotation marks, it is because this popular movie (especially in this restored version) has some deep flaws worth discussing.

Crazy Heart: The Invisible Man Emerges

by Tony Dayoub

With Jeff Bridges a seeming lock for Best Actor in this year's Oscar races, there come the inevitable disclaimers, "Yeah, he deserves one, but this isn't necessarily the performance for which he should be getting it." True that in the past, Oscar has been bestowed on notable actors in second-rate roles as compensation for being overlooked in other more important performances. Most famously, Al Pacino got one for Scent of a Woman (1992) despite three instances (okay, maybe two) in which he could and should have received one for his captivating minimalist performance as Michael Corleone in The Godfather series, forever justifying his irritating inclination to play it big. Indeed, Denzel Washington was another actor who received one of these Oscars for Training Day (2001) when he really deserved it for Malcolm X in the year that Pacino got his award. What no one seems to be saying about Bridges' performance as country singer Bad Blake in Crazy Heart is that in this case, the honor may actually be deserved.


Part of the reason, no doubt, is the "been there, done that" issue that arises when one looks at Crazy Heart and the debt it owes to its predecessor, Tender Mercies (1983). So greatly do the two films stories of aging alcoholic country singers dovetail, it was necessary to cast the latter's Robert Duvall (who won an Oscar for that, concidentally) and throw him a producer credit just to acknowledge the inevitable comparisons between both films.

This is not to diminish the film's warmth and genuine relish in allowing one to observe Blake's self-loathing so closely. Director Scott Cooper presents Blake as a functioning alcoholic who has the old leather-feel of an endearing curmudgeon rather than the off-putting antics of an obnoxious scoundrel. Bridges invites the viewer into his charming sphere of influence much the same way he does his paramour Jean (Maggie Gyllenhaal). He simply turns up the defensive allure an actor must rely on the same way an alcoholic has become accustomed to doing when evading the underlying predicament of his own existence.

This easy charm is what has thus far undercut Bridges chances for recognition. If all of his vastly different performances in great movies—from Duane in The Last Picture Show to the Dude in The Big Lebowski; from Bone in Cutter's Way to Scudder in 8 Million Ways to Die; from the titular Tucker to Max Klein in Fearless—can be made to look so easy, then is it any wonder that it's taken so long for Bridges to be acknowledged? Here, finally, is a role that stands out in an otherwise average film, and perhaps by aiming low Bridges has finally achieved the measure of success he has merited all along.

De Palma Blog-A-Thon: Phantom of the Paradise (1974)

by Pat Piper

[Pat Piper of the Lazy Eye Theatre brings us a look at one of Brian De Palma's more unusual offerings. Lazy Eye Theatre is a film blog that provides multi-layered, multi-faceted, multi-colored commentary about the amazing film world that's all around us. For all your film needs, shop Lazy Eye Theatre!]

While it's easy to dismiss Brian De Palma's Phantom of the Paradise or at least forget about it, I might make an argument that it's one of his purest pieces of work. Or I might not make that argument at all. We'll just have to see.

Blu-ray Review: An American in Paris (1951) and Gigi (1958)

As Trek fever begins to grip this fanboy's soul (Star Trek returns next week), it is easy to consider the qualities that the sci-fi and musical genres have in common. For me, both serve as transportive experiences, escapism that allows you to leave daily life behind and travel to fabricated worlds where design and color take on a greater importance. Vincente Minnelli innovated in the musical genre by leaving behind the stage-bound Busby Berkeley-style show musicals or Astaire & Rogers-style dance musicals. Minnelli created worlds in which a man could walk down the street (more likely a backlot) and suddenly break into song. Technicolor would become as prominent a character in his films as any of the leads. Two of his musicals were recently released on Blu-ray: An American in Paris, which shows us the possibilities that can be explored in the genre; and Gigi, which demonstrates the genre's limits. As I've said before, the existence of Blu-ray is justified not by how it displays contemporary films, but because of the enhancement it gives to a remastered piece of classic cinema. Both films have beautiful, crisp pictures, that reveal tonal variations in the bright saturated colors that were never apparent in their original DVD releases. This is particularly surprising in the context of the heightened artifice of An American in Paris which was confined to the backlot for much of its shoot. In the film's climax, the paintings of French Impressionists Dufy, Manet, Van Gogh, etc., come to life during Gene Kelly's splendid ballet interpretation of George Gershwin's titular composition. An American in Paris is also a testament to the collaborative forces that shape a film. It is difficult to overstate the importance of Gene Kelly's contribution as a co-director to Minnelli. Minnelli may have guided the formal aspects of the cinematography and staging, but it is Kelly's choreography during the movie's many dance numbers that truly elevate this Oscar-winner to the level of a classic. Perhaps influenced by Powell & Pressburger's The Red Shoes (1948), with its 15-minute ballet sequence, Kelly was determined to include his 18-minute ballet sequence that is the undisputed highlight of the film. The additional 3 minutes, though a by-product of Gershwin's composition, probably satisfied Kelly's competitive streak, discussed further in a wonderful episode of PBS's American Masters included on the Blu-ray. Kelly's discovery, Leslie Caron, the ingénue of An American in Paris, went on to star for Minnelli in Gigi, also a musical, also set in Paris. But the effect here could not be more different than in Minnelli's previous film. Where the earlier film's scope seems limitless despite its shoot being confined to a backlot and soundstages, Gigi seems limited by its decision to shoot on location. I guess to justify production value, the actors are often upstaged by the Paris setting because of the decision to frame in favor of the appealing locations, as seen below. There are also some unintended laughs delivered by the otherwise delightful Maurice Chevalier as Honoré Lachaille. When he sings "Thank Heaven for Little Girls," its hard to suppress the darker connotations the lyrics have (specifically because it's sung by a rather old man) in modern society. And it's hard to ignore the misogyny inherent in his conversations with his nephew, Gaston (Louis Jordan). At one point, Honoré congratulates him for provoking his first attempted suicide, a reference to Gaston's mistress and her response to their break-up. Still, the Blu-ray contains a fascinating extra, the 1949 French version of Gigi, a nonmusical also based on Colette's novel.

DVD Review: The Nightmare Before Christmas - Collector's Edition Worthy of the Animated Masterpiece

by Tony Dayoub



Fans of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) should be excited with a number of different versions of the newly restored and remastered film, now available on DVD and Blu-ray. The stop-motion animated film is fast becoming a must-see classic in both the Halloween and Christmas season. And now, after previous failed attempts, the definitive version finally makes it to retailer's shelves.


The story of Halloweentown's Pumpkin King, Jack Skellington, and his crusade to bring his version of Christmas to both our world and his own, was based on a poem by Tim Burton. After years of shopping the story to various studios, Burton teamed with composer Danny Elfman (Hellboy II: The Golden Army) and director Henry Selick (James and the Giant Peach) to deliver the film to the screen.

Surprisingly, this beautifully realized masterpiece had been released in a special edition DVD with lots of extra features, but with an inferior picture unsuitable for such a classic and unsuitable for today's HD TVs. Well, the new collector's edition corrects that by giving us a crisp anamorphic picture, Dolby Digital 5.1 audio, and on the Blu-ray, TrueHD 7.1 audio.

While many of the special features of the new collector's edition overlap with the initial special edition's extras, there are some new bonus features that make this worth purchasing. A digital copy of the film is included, suitable for downloading on Macs and PCs. There's a holiday tour of Disneyland's Haunted Mansion, which is taken over by Jack Skellington every year around Christmas time. Also included is a new commentary track by Burton, Elfman, and Selick, that in all honesty suffers a bit from being edited from separate conversations with each, rather than a shared interaction. But the best feature is a recitation of Burton's original poem by actor Christopher Lee (Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith) showcasing some of Burton's original line drawings used when designing the final film.

For the true raving fanatic, there's also a limited edition release available in a coffin-shaped box that holds a bust of Jack Skellington and a "Sandy Claws" hat and beard. Any way you choose, the collector's edition of The Nightmare Before Christmas is a must-have for your DVD collection.

Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas is available on DVD and Blu-ray today.

Stills provided courtesy of Buena Vista Home Entertainment.