Filed under: music, pop music | Tags: Chairman of the Board, Frank Sinatra, karaoke, My Way, Old Blue Eyes, the Phillipines
He did it his way ... but thankfully not in The Phillipines!
Apparently, doing it your way can get you killed.
The New York Times reports that the Philippines has been hit by a series of murders all supposedly provoked by karaoke versions of the Frank Sinatra classic “My Way.” Apparently over a dozen people have been bumped off after singing the song in karaoke bars leading to the local media giving it the moniker “the My Way killings.”
Rodolfo Gregorio is an amateur karaoke singer in the Philippines who is quoted in the Times as saying, “The trouble with My Way is that everyone knows it and everyone has an opinion. I used to like My Way but after all the trouble, I stopped singing it. You can get killed.”
“Stories like these,” says Sean Michaels for The Guardian, “have helped My Way to gain a sinister, even malevolent reputation. While some say the violence is simply a matter of statistics – the song is one of the favourites in a country prone to violence – others blame its boastful style. Paul Anka wrote the English lyrics with Sinatra in mind, and they reflect Old Blue Eyes’ preeminence. A man, his song explains, must “say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels”.
(On a personal note, my Granddad favored My Way at every family gathering—after about four scotches he would invariably take command of the floor and insist that, unlike Frankie, he didn’t need a microphone. They were the longest 4 minutes and 30 seconds of our lives. Murder never came to mind, but drugging his scotch certainly did…)
To be fair, Old Blue Eyes apparently isn’t the only performer to have provoked a wave of karaoke bar brutality. Apparently a man in Malaysia killed eight of his neighbors after trying their hand at John Denver’s Take Me Home Country Roads, and a Seattle man was attacked after tackling Coldplay’s Yellow.
Stranger things have happened … I think. The Guardian suggests the remedy could perhaps be as simple as … singing lessons?
Filed under: cinema, culture, hollywood, movies | Tags: 3D, animation, Charlie chaplin, short films
Variety today reporting that French production giant MK2, Method Animation and animation house DQ Entertainment will be producing a series of animated Charlie Chaplin shorts in 3D.
“There won’t be any direct movie adaptations. We will use gags from the films, pay homage and try and keep the spirit of Chaplin,” said Method president Aton Soumache.
From Variety: The first season, which will consist of 104 six-minute episodes without dialogue and in color, will have Chaplin’s tramp character travel all over the world. … A 45-second clip played at the press meet showed an animated Chaplin performing one of his trademark pratfalls against a New York City backdrop. The mobile phone he uses is shaped like an old fashioned telephone in keeping with the companies’ ambition to blend early 20th century with the present day.
The centenary of The Little Tramp’s debut is 4 years away. Reinventing the Chaplin image for the 21st century and introducing it to a new audience? We’re there.
Filed under: 1930s, cinema, classic movies, film, history, hollywood, music, nostalgia, preservation | Tags: luise rainer, the good earth, the gread ziegfeld, William Powell
Luise Rainer, 1936
Luise Rainer’s last Academy Award nod was for her role in The Good Earth … in 1938. The beautiful German actress’ first had come the year before opposite William Powell in The Great Ziegfeld. A win that brought about considerable controversy, as she was a rather unknown at the film opened. (The award is justified entirely by the tremulous, heartbreaking scene in which she congratulates the man she loves for his marriage over the phone.)
It was the first time an actor(ess) had ever won a competitive Oscar back to back. (“For my second and third pictures I won Academy Awards,” says Rainer. “Nothing worse could have happened to me.”)
Next week, this grand dame of cinema turns 100. Rainer, along with Joan Fontaine, Olivia DeHavilland, Deanna Durbin and Shirley Temple, is amongst the last surviving leading ladies of 1930s Hollywood.
The actress who strong-armed Hollywood’s studio system (‘By the time I’m 40, you’ll be dead,’ she told Louis B. Mayer) and refused to work on projects she didn’t believe in (something of a problem for any MGM contract player) is still a square-shooting firecracker of a dame, who is acutely aware of her extraordinary past—and the presented opportunities that she herself insists were squandered.
Luise Rainer, 1937
Her recent interview with The Scotman speaks for itself. Read Rainer’s dynamic, illuminating interview here.
Or, take a look at one of her most legendary celluloid moments here.
Filed under: cinema, culture, film, movies | Tags: (500) Days of Summer, An Education, Carey Mulligan, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Kathryn Bigelow, Lone Scherfig, Marc Webb, Michael Haneke, Mo'Nique, Precious, The Hurt Locker, The White Ribbon, Zooey Deschanel
The biggest year on record for domestic Box Office receipts was also one of the most forgettable years in memory for the movies. 2009 may have seen us forking over more money than ever to go to the movies, but it also shortchanged us with films that often felt altogether unwatchable. (2012 anyone?) But from amidst the muck and mire of underwhelming, overproduced Hollywood stinkers, came a handful of truly good films to remind us that not everyone behind a camera assumes their audience has the intelligence of a rutabaga. And so, since everyone has a best of list this time of year, The Pictorial has selected five of what we feel to be the few … the proud … the movies that mattered.
The Hurt Locker © Summit Entertainment 2008
Why it mattered: Because it’s rare that press-fed hyperbole like “Riveting,” “Gut-Wrenching,” and “Unforgettable” are accurate. Kathryn Bigelow’s war epic is all of that and more.
Precious © 2009 Lee Daniels Entertainment
Why it mattered: Because heartbreak has never been more heartening. And because Mo’Nique gave one the year’s most extraordinary perforamances.
The White Ribbon © Sony Pictures Classics, 2009
Why it mattered: Because evil has rarely been quite so beautifully explored, so thoughtfully weighed, so skillfully rendered as in Michael Haneke’s dark study of a small German town.
An Education © BBC Films, 2009
Why it mattered: Because Carey Mulligan’s Jenny was a reminder of just what a bravura performance can do—in this case turning an old worn-out shoe of a story into something fresh and funny and new.
500 Days of Summer
500 Days of Summer © Fox Searchlight, 2009
Why it mattered: Because it’s a love letter to Los Angeles that doesn’t involve Hollywood, and because it’s a movie about love that is in no way a love story.
Filed under: film
Apologies to all Pictorial readers for our recent hiatus. Unplanned and unannounced as it was, we really must apologize for the highly unprofessional slight and are happy to say that we are finally back in action.
The Pictorial has a lot planned for 2010 and will be announcing some very exciting projects within the coming weeks.
Many thanks to all of our followers!
Filed under: cinema, culture, film | Tags: Marcello Mastroianni; Federico Fellini; Italian cinema; foreign film; cinema verite;
I’ve been on some sort of Fellini trip as of late.
Just haven’t been able to get enough of the man and his supremely sensuous phantasmagoria of time, space, shadow and light.
Few directors have so effortlessly (seemingly) blurred the line of fact, fiction, fantasy and farce with such delirious delight … and I think it’s safe to say that 8 1/2, his 1963 masterpiece, is the high watermark of his artistic achievements. (Though not without heated debate, I’m sure!)
If you haven’t seen the film in a while, please revisit it… it’s the sort of film that is entirely like a good bottle of old wine.
Call it ‘neorealism,’ or any other fancy schmansy moniker you can conjure … whatever ‘it‘ is, I’ll tell ya right now, Fellini’s ‘it‘ is eternal.
Just ask Marcello. 
Marcello Mastroianni as "Guido" in Fellini's 8 1/2. (swoon, faint, thud.)
Guido, the disillusioned director.
foreplay a la Fellini.
No one else but Fellini could pull this off....
Marcello upside down and delicous...
SARAGHINA!!!!
shadow ... light ... composition ... perfection ...
Fellini proving, once again, he's the master.
Guido, eight miles high.
Marcello.
Filed under: art, cinema, fashion, film | Tags: 19th century, Abbie Cornish, Ben Whishaw, Bright Star, Fanny Brawne, Jane Campion, John Keats
Poetry in the key of Time.
Normally, I am not exactly what you would call a fan of Jane Campion’s films.
But a few weeks ago, I went to the theater and gave her latest film, Bright Star, a chance. Mostly because Kenneth Turan, the Los Angeles Times’ resident film critic, gave it a simply glowing review … and Turan is rather known for not giving glowing reviews.
I went in with my nose firmly placed in the air, ready to massacre what I was certain would be a self-important, purposefully ‘arty’ picture. And, suddenly, about an hour into it, I realized that I was crying … for no apparent reason at all. It was simply a matter of an unexpected, rushing wave of emotion sweeping over me, and I was caught in its riptide, helpless to resist. The same sort of feeling one gets when reading a challenging poem: the initial distrust, and then, bang, the thrust of emotion that leaves you thoroughly winded … and utterly in love. Rather like a Keats poem, to be honest.
Which is why Bright Star, the delicately beautiful film about the famous love affair between the young John Keats and Fanny Brawne starring the exquisite Abbie Cornish and Ben Whishaw, is so powerfully sensitive and entirely effective. It feels like a poem … not like someone pushing poetry down your throat which, I’m sure you’ll agree, makes all the difference in the world.
Rapturous in its realism, Bright Star feels and breathes and seethes with life and love and beauty. The early 19th century has never been so extraordinarily organic. Even though just a spectator in 2-D, the film pops with color, and vibrancy—we feel the flush of wind on Fanny’s fabric, the fragility of Keat’s coat collar, the quiet sunlight over a field of lavender, the warm breath of a tentative kiss… it is something rarely achieved on screen with such mastery, and my previous issues with Ms. Campions’ pretension have been duly sated.
The film itself is not likely to make a dent in the coming awards season, such is the lot of films of its beauty and weight, but if there’s one thing sure to seduce Academy voters it must surely be the exquisitely artful use of costume. The fabric of Miss Fanny Brawne’s clothing is as much a part of the film’s tapestry as Fanny herself … below are a few of what I consider to be the highlights ….
Fanny fast at work on a new design ...
...and the beautiful result.
And another of Fanny's fine bespoke creations.
The Two Lovers.
Filed under: classic movies, hollywood, movies | Tags: Fred Astaire; MGM; Royal Wedding
The following film clip just sums everything up: why Fred Astaire is a legend, why the Studio System worked, why CGI sucks, why the movies were were once absolute magic, and why Hollywood today is utterly doomed. It’s all there. In this five and a half minute snippet from MGM’s Royal Wedding.
(for more Kitty Packard Pictorial fun with Fred–and Ginger too– click here.)
Filed under: 1920s, classic movies, hollywood, vintage | Tags: Dolores Costello; Drew Barrymore; John Barrymore; The Barrymore's; George O'Brien; Noah's Ark; Michael Curtiz
… was, for the record, WAY hot.
And yes, she spoke with the same quiet lisp that would, one day, make her granddaughter famous. (OK, maybe Drew’s lisp isn’t what made her famous, but it’s certainly made her memorable.)
Dolores Costello was a silent screen goddess to end all silent screen goddesses. The year this film, Noah’s Ark, was made, she married film’s untamable-bastard-genius John Barrymore. And an acting dynasty was born. The marriage lasted only seven years, largely due to Barrymore’s drinking problems, and she would only act for a few more years before retiring from the public eye completely.
But for a few glorious years, Dolores’ popularity was untouchable, and her chops as an actress were undeniable.
Teamed here with super hunky matinee idol George O’Brien, Noah’s Ark’s biblical underpinnings seem entirely inspired by the Dolores’ truly divine beauty.
George O'Brien & Dolores Costell in Noah's Ark, 1928. Directed by Michael Curtiz
Filed under: classic movies, film, movies, nostalgia | Tags: Danny Kaye; Virginia Mayo; Sam Goldwyn; Up In Arms; Wonder Man; The Kid From Brooklyn; The Secret Life of Walter Mitty; A Song is Born;
Danny & Virginia - 1945 poster art (don't you love her shoes?!?!)
When I was growing up, some of my absolute favorite movies were Sam Goldwyn’s Danny Kaye/Virginia Mayo musicals made during the ‘40s. For a twelve year old, the films were bright, breezy, funny and chock-a-block with snappy tunes and zippy one-liners.
I thought it would be fun to revisit them to see if they’re still just as much fun today as they were then. ( They are. )
Up in Arms (1944)
Kaye cutting up in Up in Arms.
Although this film stars Dinah Shore with Kaye, it firmly sets up what was to be the Kaye/Mayo mold. It was Kaye’s first feature film and Goldwyn didn’t want to risk starring two unknowns, so Shore was brought in at the last minute to amp up the star wattage. Co-starring Dana Andrews and Constance Dowling, Up in Arms is Wartime Propaganda at its finest packaged in the form of a fluffy, sweetly silly romp in which hypochondriac Daniel Weems (Kaye) and best friend Joe (Andrews) are drafted into the army where Kaye’s obsessive compulsive behavior lands them both into a bottomless pit of hot water. Dinah Shore’s Tess’ Torch Song is a definite highlight, but more than that, Up In Arms first introduces us to what would be Kaye’s signature: his tongue-twisting, rapid-fire monologues.
Decades before the likes of Jim Carrey, and well before Jerry Lewis, Danny Kaye wrote the book on rubber-faced comic madness.
Written in partnership with his wife Sylvia Fine, Kaye’s singular mix of pantomime, song and dance is truly unique and are here unleashed for the first time. Kaye’s Melody in 4-F, a smashing stage success for him, is captured on film in Up In Arms … although tamed considerably for the censors.
Wonder Man (1945)
Kaye gets a hankering for S.Z. Sakall's potato salad in Wonder Man.
Wonder Man is a tired premise executed with delightful freshness and creativity. Kaye plays identical twins: bookworm Edwin Dingle and nightclub singer Buzzy Bellew. When Buzzy is knocked off by notorious gangster ‘Ten Grand Jackson’ for being the Man Who Knew Too Much, the only person who can bring the thugs to justice is Edwin—with a little help from the ghost of Buzzy, that is. (The special effects in the film, by the way, were cutting edge and won a special Oscar.) Buzzy’s ghost possesses his brother in order to lead the cops to Jackson, resulting in the proverbial tangled web we weave: Mild-mannered Dingle, with a squeaky-clean sweetheart of his own (Virginia Mayo) is forced to pretend to be the outrageous Buzzy who happens to be engaged to nightclub hottie Midge Mallone (Vera-Ellen). A cliché of a plot, perhaps, with predictable set pieces, definitely, but Kaye’s wild versatility and show-stopping shenanigans keeps the film fresh and funny. Vera-Ellen makes her feature film debut here, and her sensational talents are well showcased, particularly in a dazzling number entitled So In Love, and I am happy to report that it is just as delightful to me now as it was at the ripe old age of 12. The colors and the costumes are eye popping, but Ellen’s talent is what’s truly jaw-dropping:
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAizey5VDu8&feature=related]
p.s.: POTATO SALAD!
The Kid From Brooklyn (1946)
The Kid From Brooklyn (1946) poster art
By the time Kaye and Mayo were cast in Goldwyn’s 1946 remake of Harold Lloyd’s The Milky Way, the team was box office gold. And even though The Kid From Brooklyn lacks Wonder Man’s ingenuity and spunk, it is still breezy, easy entertainment. Delightful, if not a bit dizzy, the film follows the exploits of milkman Burleigh Sullivan who apparently knocks out the middleweight champion of the world. Not exactly good PR for the champ’s agent who concocts a scam to profit over the mishap. He takes the gullible Burleigh and touts him as a boxing sensation, fixing fights across the country to turn him into a star. The fact that Burleigh boxes like he’s waving hello leads to quite a few memorable moments, particularly Eve Arden (the manager’s gal pal) who teaches him the ropes of boxing to the tune of Johann Strauss’ Blue Danube: “Trah-la-la-la-la-boom-boom-boom-boom!” The manager then bets against Burleigh in a Vegas-esque fight and, well, you can guess the outcome. Vera-Ellen is Burleigh’s dancing sister and Mayo is the singer that falls for him. Even though Mayo lip sync’s her numbers, it’s still a lot of fun to watch the Sammy Kahn numbers.
And oh those Goldwyn Girls.
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947)
Walter Mitty dreams of the Old South in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty remains the most famous of the Goldwyn/Kaye/Mayo films, and understandably so. Norman McLeod, who had brought to the screen classics such as Topper, Lady Be Good as well as Wonder Man and Kid From Brooklyn, finely helms this memorably sweet, smart and sassy story of the loveable daydreamer Walter Mitty. Walter Mitty is a beleaguered wage slave at a pulp-fiction publishing company who is utterly (pardon the expression) pussy-whipped by his mother and fiancé, and retreats into his daydreams to find solace and assert himself as a man. When the woman of his dreams (Mayo) turns up on his train into town one unexpected morning, Mitty is pulled into a game of cat and mouse that turns his life upside down. Mayo, whose roles are painfully cookie-cutter in the Goldwyn films, is here able to actually flex some acting chops (more to follow in A Song is Born) and backed up by the likes of Boris Karloff, Faye Bainter and Ann Rutherford results in pure cinematic gold. It is also perhaps the most ‘mainstream’ Kaye/Mayo film—not the fluffy extravaganzas of the earlier films, but a film that pivots around a plot the viewer actually invests in. Mitty’s daydreams are terrific fun, as are the character actors and the suspense ramps up to a nail-bitingly fun finale.
A pair of Goldwyn Girls on the set of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.
A Song is Born (1948)
Charlie Barnett, Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, Louis Armstong & Lionel Hampton
Long-time readers of the Pictorial will know exactly how dear this film is to our heart. Howard Hawks’ remake of his beloved 1941 screwball Stanwyck-Cooper starrer Ball of Fire is not the finely crafted sophisticated romp the original was … but it’s the music that makes this film positively priceless. In my opinion, the film contains s segment of celluloid that is living history in its most impressively organic form. Here we have the unprecedented (and arguably unmatched) interracial jazz ensemble of Tommy Dorsey, Lionel Hampton, Mel Powell, Benny Goodman, Charlie Barnett (WOW!) and Pops himself, Louis Armstrong, jamming together in the film’s titular A Song is Born. Kaye is his usual, stuttering, bumbling self, but it is Mayo who really gets to dig into the role. Taking her cue from Barbara Stanwyck’s femme fatale of the 1941 original, it is easy to see how Mayo would go on to play such tough jawed dames as White Heat’s Verna Jarret. (She’d already proven her range as Dana Andrew’s philandering wife in The Best Years Of Our Lives.) It is the last Kaye/Mayo pairing, and was a disappointment at the box office, but it certaily deserves rediscovery … if for no other reason than the following fabulous musical scenes:
