Yesterday, MEAN Magazine released (or, sent out a press release about) their latest viral video, a “remake” of Bad Lieutenant starring SNL’s Bill Hader (”Eat your heart out, Werner Herzog,” reads the explanatory title card.) It’s okay. The best part is Hader’s final, weepy line, “I’m such a bad lieutenant!”
But more interesting is a MEAN video that I missed, the above “Emma Stone in Busby Berkeley 2.0.” With Stone (Jonah Hill’s love interest from Superbad) wearing a vintage bathing suit and staring coquettishly at the camera amidst digital kaleodoscopic chaos, it’s less Busby Berkely than a retro-porn spin on Esther Williams. But it’s pretty!
This may qualify as hyperbole, but Richard Schickel’s You Must Remember This––which premiered at Cannes in May, screened here at Telluride as part of a tribute to Schickel and will debut on PBS in slightly different form this fall––is maybe the most appropriately titled made-for-TV Classical Hollywood documentary directed by a working film critic I’ve seen this year.
“You must remember this,” is, of course, a lyric from “As Time Goes By,” the signature song from Warner Brothers’ Casablanca. From the opening montage of a tour through the WB backlot, set to a soundtrack of memorable lines from maybe a dozen and a half classic productions from that studio, Schickel’s film is devoted to anecdotal recall of Warner Brothers’ various signatures, from experts and witnesses who are dishy and not uncritical, but still often as sentimemtal as the song that Rick commands Sam to play again. From silent doggie star Rin Tin Tin (who, snarked writer and eventual head of production Daryl Zanuck, had the biggest brain on the lot) to the Busby Berkeley musicals that not so subtly told the viewer that “Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler are gonna get laid, and we’re all part of it,” to the social issue films of the 30s which carried “a vision of the world that was darker, more cynical, and more problematic than any other studio’s,” Schickel finds a surprisingly rich balance between behind-the-scenes trivia and multi-layered criticism. Access to talking heads including Molly Haskell, Neal Gabler, Jeaninne Basinger and former WB contract player Ronald Reagan certainly helps with the gravitas.
Also surprising was the slightly salty candor that ran through Schickel’s Special Medallion acceptance chat, which both the honoree and the audience seemed to find too brief. Still, Schickel managed to get out som zingers involving Manny Farber, Pauline Kael, the youth of America and John McCain. Some highlights after the jump.
I’m heading out a bit early for the weekend (yes, the Week in Review is on its way), but before I go I want to give a shout out to some of TCM’s Summer Under the Stars programming coming up this weekend. Across Saturday and Sunday, they’re saluting the two greatest male musical stars of all time, Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly. I’m a sucker for certain of the Astaire/Rogers films (primarily Swing Time, and probably mostly because I think there’s something interesting about the fact that Fred is essentially a gambling cad who spends the entire movie flirting with Ginger but won’t seal the deal because he has a frumpy fiancee at home), but I’m really more into Gene Kelly.
Among the films screening on Sunday that I’d recommend: the Best Picture winning An American in Paris, directed by Vincente Minnelli and scored to Gershwin; It’s Always Fair Weather, which is essentially the Mad Men of mid-century musicals; and Take Me Out to the Ball Game, the last film Busby Berkeley directed without choreographing. Ball Game is more of a curiosity than anything else; rumor has it, Berkeley was too far in the bottle at that point in his career to really take control, and Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen’s credits for choreography.
The numbers aren’t “good”, exactly, but intriguingly off. Like the one above, where Kelly and Frank Sinatra sing a song where they tell a number of increasingly unlikely brags about making out with girls on the road and then never calling them. The chorus: thanks to Sinatra leading leading her on and leaving the next day, they sing triumphantly, “the sweetest gal at Vassar’s in the cold, cold ground.” Later, Kelly sings about how he “had to go” when he learned that one paramour was “just 11.” Of course, the cads eventually get their comeupance when they meet Esther Williams and Betty Garrett, but the movie’s a little more interesting in these WTF? moments.
Guy Maddin’s version of his hometown of Winnipeg is a dreamland patchwork of half truths and exaggerations, a standard-issue suburban incubator carved into blank screen fields of snow so blinding white they seem almost hot, on which Maddin has projected a secret life. He was commissioned to make My Winnipeg, an ostensible non-fiction portrait of this birthplace, by The Documentary Channel, but the city itself is only of concern to him insofar as it’s an extension of and metaphor for his psyche. He casts the project as his attempt to come to terms once and for all with his fever stream of memories, real and fabricated, inextricably intertwined with the places and spaces where he grew up. The question of “real” doesn’t matter. While Darcy Fehr, the actor hired to be his (younger, improbably attractive) stand-in, nods off next to a bottle on a moving train, the real Maddin, our narrator, informs us of his designs on Winnipeg: “I must leave it! I’ll film my way out!”
In my first week as a SpoutBlogger, I linked to Kevin Lee’s video essay on Dario Argento’s Inferno. Twelve weeks later (putting us at last weekend), I met Kevin for the first time in Real Life, and he told me that the next installment of his project has going to investigate one of my favorite musicals, the Busby Berkeley-choreographed Dames. It’s now up at his site.
The actual video essay breaks down the film’s title number, one of the most batshit insanely kaloidoscopic musical sequences of Berkeley’s career, into symbols and meanings; the page it lives on is tricked out with quotes from the film’s original reviews, unadulterated clips of other musical numbers, and Lee’s own analysis.
My favorite part of the whole thing comes at about the 3:55 mark of the video, when Lee stops in the middle of his analysis to ponder the one scene that appears to have gotten away from Berkeley.
Fox barely released Mike Judge’s Idiocracy, but now they’re partnering with something called Redux Beverages to release a line of energy drinks called Brawndo, named after the puke-green beverage that replaced water (and destroyed all agriculture) in the film’s future world.
Charlie Wilson’s War: Jeff Wells is cranky that the HFPA has declared it eligible for nominations in the Musical/Comedy categories at the Golden Globes; LIBERTAS is pissed that it’s “premised on a whopper of a lie that undercuts the entire film turning it into yet another 2007 piece of liberal propaganda.” Pick your own battle, I guess.
Future of Classic informs us that today would have been Busby Berkeley’s 112th birthday. They offer a list of “five things you might not have known about” the dance director of the greatest psychedelic-socialist musical numbers of the 1930s; oddly, the fact that he was a raging alcoholic didn’t make the list. Oh well. Too bad YouTube appears to be broken, because I bet I could find a clip from Take Me Out to the Ballgame that would prove it.
Fox barely released Mike Judge’s 
