If you were to ask a music lover to name the most iconic pop band of the 1970s, their answer would probably be The Bee Gees. And they’d be right–mostly. For about three years, The Bee Gees bestrode the world like a collosus, leading the musical and cultural era that was disco.
But, for my money, it was the Electric Light Orchestra that most defined 70s pop. The creation of musical genius Jeff Lynne, E.L.O. was hit machine that cranked out gold records with regularity. Their songs were all over the radio here Gainesville, and their records were coveted.
And expensive. I remember looking at Out of Blue in the record store and was shocked to see that it was priced at $14.99. (This was back when ten bucks would get you a decent dinner in a real restaurant.)
My favorite E.L.O. song is, of course, “Turn to Stone”, which is the perfect fusion of pop and rock. Cinemaphiles will note that it was this song that P.T. Anderson ended his great film Boogie Nights with.
There is a great tradition in American comedy of very smart women playing very dumb women (usually, dumb blonds). It goes back to at least the 1930s with the duo of George Burns and Gracie Allen, and probably much further than that.
So, it’s not terribly surprising that the brilliant actress Teri Garr was best known for playing a stereotypical “dumb blond”. Specifically, she played Inga, Dr. Frankenstein’s (that’s FRAH-ken-steen‘s) lab assistant in Mel Brooks’s classic Young Frankenstein. The film is one of the funniest ever made, and Garr’s performance is one of the funniest things in it. It’s a masterpiece of physical humor, timing, and delivery, not to mention a great, fake German accent.
The doc falls in love with her by the end of the film, and the same can be said for many of the viewers. It’s safe to say that the film wouldn’t have been half as good without her.
Remember that scene from The Matrix in which the crew of the rebel hovercraft the Nebuchadnezzar sits down to a meal of some artificial, lab-concocted glop? Apoc describes it as being “like a bowl of snot,” while Mouse say it actually reminds him of one of his favorite foods as a child, the fictional Tasty Wheat.
Dozer explains that the glop is said to be created by a single-celled organism and has all the nutrients required to support human life. In real life—and especially on our rapidly warming planet, where droughts are becoming more common and every inch of arable land will soon be needed to grow basic crops—such glop would actually be a very cool thing. It might, in fact, be the difference millions of people suffering famine and those same millions having decent, long lives. Never mind the taste, this glop would be a Godsend.
Well, this week some nerds at the University of Tübingen in Germany announced that they have essentially created some version of the magical glop. The single-celled organism turns out to be a bacterium called Thermoanaerobacter kivui, and the glop created contains both B9 and more protein per volume than beef. And all it needs to grow is C02 (the primary offender in the climate crisis), hydrogen, and some heat. Pretty cool!
I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of creating artificial food. This is probably because I’ve read too many science fiction novels, where such technology is often presented as dystopian (I’m looking at you, Soylent Green) as well as utopian (see the replicators on Star Trek). Being a natural, rational optimist, I tend to believe that artificial food will be a great boon to society. In particular, artificial protein would be a wonderful thing because it would free up so much land that is currently used by livestock (the most inefficient form of food production, not to mention the cruelest in its most common form).
Don’t get me wrong—I like meat. I cook with meat. And I think free-range livestock raised with traditional, holistic practices might actually be a crucial element in the fight against climate change. But if there were a good, renewable alternative to real meat that sucks up C02 in the process, I’m all in. It could, in fact, save the world as we know it.
Hopefully, they will figure out the taste problem.
I’ve been meaning to write a post listing some great movies about the press. Normally, I would make this a “top-10” list, but the fact is that I couldn’t think of that many, unless I resorted to some cheating (yes, Citizen Kane involves the muckraking journalism of the early 1900s, but you can’t really call it a movie about the press). So, here’s my list, from great to greatest…
The Paper
Ron Howard’s 1994 film The Paper focuses on one frantic day in the newsroom of a major metropolitan newspaper. The day begins with a high-profile murder, for which two young African-American men are arrested. Michael Keaton, Glenn Close, and Robert Duvall are the editors who are fighting to uncover the truth—before deadline. The Paper is a bit broad compared to the other entries on my list, but it’s still a fine movie with a great story.
In one of those strange, synchronicity moments that sometimes happen, I recently stumbled upon an article in Collider about how the classic John Carpenter film Escape from New York is getting a new 4K release from Shout Factory. This was a heart-warming bit of information, for me, since the film has been one of my favorites since I saw it in the theaters in 1982. It’s nice to think that new generations of film lovers might be given a chance to appreciate its many charms.
The news was also timely, for me, because I had been contemplating writing a post about the things I love most about movies like Escape from New York. That is, B-Movie Action Flicks. As anyone who reads this blog or my old one will realize, I am somewhat obsessed with B-Movie Action Flicks, especially from their golden age back in the 1970s-80s. Part of my obsession is mere nostalgia, of course. I spent many a late Saturday watching such movies on HBO with my equally nerdy, reprobate friends, and they (the films and the friends) helped me get through the agonies of growing up. But the other part of my obsession has to do with the nature of B-Movie Action Flicks. Why are they so much fun?
Let’s face it, 99% of the people alive today who knew anything at all about James Earl Jones knew about him from Star Wars. He was, after all, the voice of Darth Vader, the most commanding villain in all cinema.
My first memory of Jones, however, was from the early 1970s, when I was a little kid. I was watching a made-for-TV movie about the Barney and Betty Hill UFO incident. Jones played Barney, and the scene where he recalls, under hipnosis, his encounter with a UFO struck me, even a kid, as unbelievably powerful and even scary. (If you can find this movie on Youtube, you should check it out.)
It’s important for us all to remember how truly great an actor Jones was. He wasn’t just a voice–he was a master of the entire art. One of my lit. professors in college recalled seeing Jones as Othello on Broadway in a now-legendary production with Christopher Plummer as Iago, and how absolutely mesmerizing Jones was.
In keeping with that memory, I am posting a brief, command performance that Jones did of a scene from Othello about ten years ago.
Well, I finally watched Dune: Part Two (henceforth known as Dune 2) last night. I’m a big fan of the first film (part 1), and I was very eager to see this one (although not eager enough, apparently, to shell-out for theater tickets; oh, well).
Dune 2 is, obviously, an amazing film, even when viewed on a TV screen. A lot of people have commented on how much the movie reminds them of Lawrence of Arabia, and it’s true. Why not? Frank Herbert was, himself, influenced by Lawrence when he wrote the book. But as I watched Dune 2, I kept thinking of another classic film, The Godfather. They’re practically the same movie, when you think about it. Duke Leto is the Godfather, the noble monarch of a great and honorable kingdom. Arrakis is New York City, full of violence, corruption, and sadistic evil. Paul is Michael, the exiled prince, who is at first reluctant to take up his old man’s role but later succumbs to the circumstances that surround him, and to his own desire for revenge. Chani is Kay. Gurney is Clemenza. And on and on.
I mean this comparison, of course, as a compliment. Dune 2 is an archetypal film, as is The Godfather. And, like The Godfather, it’s got some electrifying scenes of action, woven inside a theme of how good can survive in an evil universe without becoming evil itself. (Dune 2, like The Godfather, leaves the question unresolved.)
I did have some pretty major complaints about the movie, especially in the way it handles time. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the entire story takes place during Lady Jessica’s pregnancy with the unborn Alia. Right? So, unless babies in the Dune universe take a lot longer to gestate, that’s less than nine months—which makes no logical sense. (In the book, it’s more like four years.) Even more problematic, for me, is the film’s unrelenting depictions of sadism. The Harkonnens—the greatest lovers of BDSM fashion in the galaxy—are always stabbing or crushing or slicing somebody up, usually someone helpless and innocent. Yeah, I get it; evil is the major theme of the movie. But I couldn’t help but think that director Denis Villeneuve (who is, I believe, a genius) takes it just a little…bit…too…far. I mean, we get four or maybe five scenes that are essentially remakes of The Empire Strikes Back with Darth Vader killing some dim-witted subordinate.
Still, it’s a great movie, exciting and fluid and beautifully acted. I’ll watch it again. If you haven’t seen it (which I seriously doubt), check it out…
Back in the early 1990s when I was a poor graduate student, I used to stay home on Saturday nights and watch my little black-and-white TV. I couldn’t afford cable, of course, but thankfully there was always PBS, so I watched a lot of documentaries and episodes of Great Performances. On one such night, I saw a filmed performance of Peter Brook’s stage play The Mahabharata. The play is, of course, a dramatic adaptation of the great Hindu epic, the tale of a feud between two groups of royal cousins, the Pāṇḍava princes and their arch-nemeses, the Kauravas. As epic tales are wont to do, the feud escalates into a civil war so catastrophic that even the gods are pulled into the conflict (in the same way that the Greek gods Mars, Apollo, and Venus involve themselves in the The Illiad).
Being a filmed staged play, Brook’s TV version is low on special effects (this was before CGI) but packed with minimalistic, highly-stylized interpretations of sweeping battles, multi-armed demons, and flying chariots. Somehow, it all works, and I found myself obsessed with both the film and the story. A few years later I would finally read a popular translation of The Bhagavad Gita, which is really just one portion of the much larger Mahabharata.
I really enjoyed The Hunger Games movies when they came out. Not only were they great examples of dystopian science fiction, but they served as a refresher course in the nature of fascism. The main baddie in the films was, of course, President Snow, played with great menace and understatement by the great Donald Sutherland.
I am very grateful to the producers of The Hunger Games for introducing Sutherland to a new generation of film lovers, especially at a time when his career was in a bit of a lull. Sutherland was one of my favorite actors when I was growing up, best known for career-making roles like Hawkeye Pierce in M.A.S.H., Oddball in Kelly’s Heroes, and the titular role in Klute. One of the great ironies of film history is that Sutherland should now be so closely associated with the role of President Snow—literally a right-wing fascist dictator—when his early, defining performances were usually as lovable, left-of-center antiheroes (Hawkeye Pierce especially).
Sutherland was one of the few movie stars from the 70s and 80s to have curly, hippie-hair, and his entire persona seemed to be that of a counter-cultural smart guy. The Alpha-Hippie that all Beta-Hippies aspired to be. I say he was a smart-guy, and it’s true—never did an actor so effortlessly exude intelligence, even without dialog, as Sutherland did. But while he was so obviously a smart-guy, he was never a smart-ass. Even the irreverent Hawkeye Pierce—perhaps the most famous prankster in cinema history—reserved his mocking for when he needed it to retain his sanity, and focused it on those who most deserved it.
One of the best ways to understand Sutherland as an artist is to imagine his stylistic opposite, Nicholas Cage. Like Sutherland, Cage is a brilliant actor, and a very smart guy, but while Cage is famous for his artistic daring, often taking his performances to frenetic heights that would seem ridiculous for other, lesser actors, Sutherland was known for his almost impenetrable reserve. He always seemed to be holding something back, in a good way. He kept the viewer guessing about what was really going on behind those crystalline blue eyes.
Perhaps my favorite Sutherland role when I was growing up was as a world-weary health inspector in Philip Kaufman’s 1978 sci-fi horror masterpiece The Invasion of the Body Snatchers. In this film, Sutherland almost drips existential cool, even when faced with an invasion of alien pod-people (read: communists, right-wing conformists, or your boogey-men of choice) who want to eliminate humanity.
There is a cool website called My Book, The Movie where authors can describe their dream movie production of their book. The gentleman who runs the site invited me to post, and here is the result…
Ash Clifton, Writer 