Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Bell Book and Candle

It was interesting for me to see James Stewart and Kim Novak in BELL BOOK AND CANDLE because I’m so used to them from VERTIGO. These two very different movies both starred the same two actors in romantic roles in the same year, but where VERTIGO was dark and twisted, BELL BOOK AND CANDLE is light and fluffy.

VERTIGO is the better film, and features the better performance from Stewart, but there is something quite alluring about Novak in BELL BOOK AND CANDLE. Novak stars as a modern day witch living in Greenwich Village. In one of the movie’s more clever conceits, the witches and wizards of the world hide out in beatnik bars behind beatnik fashions. I’m not sure if this is to say the beatniks were the way they were because they were all witches and wizards, or if it was just a safe place for eccentrics to hide. Either way, it’s funny.

Even though Novak gets to play what pretty much amounts to a dual role in VERTIGO and shows quite a bit of range there, it is nice to see her with less makeup on, in less glamorous fashions, walking around a modern day apartment, barefoot. She has a breezy vibe about her, which up until now, I would have never associated with Novak – an easiness that stands at odds with her severe, but beautiful, face. She seems. . . inviting.

The plot involves Novak using her witch powers to cast a love spell on Stewart. Under the influence of the magic, Stewart falls for Novak and abruptly leaves his fiancé (Janice Rule) who just happens to be Novak’s old college nemesis and has one of the best lines in the movie. When Stewart tells Rule that Novak is a witch, Rule deadpans, “You just never learned to spell.” Zing!

The usual romantic comedy ups and downs ensue as the two leads wonder whether they’re really in love with each other, or if it’s just magic, spend some good times together, split up, get back together, etc. An added issue involves the film’s rules when it comes to witchcraft – apparently witches lose their powers once they fall in love, so Novak has to decide between magic and Stewart.

The film has an eclectic supporting cast, appropriate for a movie about magic, I suppose, including Elsa Lanchester (the Bride of Frankenstein herself) as Novak’s aunt who is also a witch, an early role for Jack Lemmon as Novak’s brother, a wizard, and Ernie Kovacs in a scene stealing role as a drunk writer. I was especially pleased to see Lanchester later in her career in such a comedic performance. On the other hand, knowing what Lemmon would do later in his career made him seem underused here.

BELL BOOK AND CANDLE is about magic, but it’s not quite magical. There is something flat about it. A movie like this should have momentum, be light on its feet, and jump effortlessly from one scene to the next. Instead it kind of slogs along, which is not the fault of the cast or even the screenplay, necessarily. It’s not bad, it’s not great, but it’s fine, and the ending is appropriately romantic enough for Romancefest.

Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Talk to Her

Like most movies by Pedro Almodovar, TALK TO HER is romantic but it is not your typical romance. Javier Camara and Dario Grandinetti star as two men hopelessly in love with totally unavailable women. This is partially due to the nature of their relationships – Camara is a socially awkward, slowly developing stalker with a hopeless crush on a woman he’s barely even met and Grandinetti is in love with a woman who is more powerful and successful than he is who might be indulging in another romance on the side.

But, the nature of these relationships is nothing compared to the other major obstacle: both women are in comas, and they may never wake up again.

The two women are Rosario Flores as a confident and passionate bull fighter and Leonar Watling as a young and innocent ballet student. Most of Grandinetti’s romance with Flores takes place before she is gored by a bull and rendered comatose – he’s a handsome and intense writer who finds her fascinating and becomes her lover. But Camara’s romance happens almost entirely in his head, first as he watches Watling from afar, and later as he dotes on her night and day as her nurse at the hospital.

The captivating thing about this film, aside from the unique premise, is the way Almodovar deftly changes tones and point of view as the film unfolds, masterfully pulling the audience’s sympathy from one character to another as crucial information is slowly revealed. Someone we identify with early on might turn out to be a monster by the time the movie ends. It all just depends on where Almodovar chooses to point his camera and when he chooses to do so; where Almodovar chooses to insert a flashback and when he chooses to do so.

As usual with Almodovar, the film is a beauty to behold – all primary colors, fascinating faces, and pretty music. Almodovar also uses some dance sequences and choreography by Pina Bausch, who appears in one of the scenes in the “Café Muller” performance I was pleased to recognize from the recent documentary PINA.

There is a key scene in the middle of the film in which Camara’s nurse character recounts a silent film he saw, and it unfolds before our eyes – in a scenario straddling the realm of nightmare and fantasy, a man (Fele Martinez) shrinks to a miniscule size but still attempts to please his lover (Paz Vega) who towers over him. Almodovar takes this sequence exactly where you think it might go, as the tiny man explores every inch of his lover’s body. The beauty of this sequence is the way it unabashedly mines what seems like the most obvious Freudian symbolism in a way few other filmmakers would dare to – it seems obvious, but in its sheer audacity, it is not.

The same could be said for the entire coma plot – a seemingly obvious metaphor for one sided relationships, unavailable people, the way we idealize a lover to the point where we might choose to ignore reality. But, again, this premise is so fully and fearlessly explored, it doesn’t matter how obvious it might seem. That’s a gift – to be able to say what others want to say in true and simple way others cannot.

Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Truly, Madly, Deeply

If you're going to watch TRULY MADLY DEEPLY, I recommend going into it totally blind. I'm glad I did. All I knew was that it was a love story starring Alan Rickman and directed by Anthony Minghella. I didn't know anything about the plot, and I think it succeeded in being more thought provoking and emotional than if I had gone in with an understanding of the premise.

So, stop reading if you don't want to know the basics.

As the film opens, we meet Juliet Stevenson as a translator who has shut herself off from the outside world, crippled with the mourning of her recently and untimely deceased boyfriend, played by Alan Rickman. She tells her therapist she still hears him talking to her, sometimes, in her head, and just as the black hole of her depression seems like it's about to swallow her, Rickman inexplicably shows up as a ghost.

At first, the two lovers are overjoyed to see each other. Stevenson plays hooky from work and the two play together in her apartment in the child-like way that people who intimate with each other often do. These scenes are both amazing and awkward. On one hand, Stevenson and Rickman throw themselves into these performances with abandon, disappearing into the characters. On the other, most audiences probably aren't used to seeing this kind of behavior taking place anywhere other than behind the safety of closed doors.

So, Minghella has hooked us and tricked us twice, here -- first, allowing the viewer to settle down into a depressing tear jerker mood, then switching things to a rather light-hearted fantasy story. But the master stroke comes in the last half of the film, when the most unexpected development of all occurs, more unexpected than the existence of ghosts -- Stevenson starts to get over Rickman.

This third layer of the story, after grief and reclaimed happiness, is probably the most uncomfortable for most people, romantics and cynics alike, to confront. The idea that the person you thought was perfect, who you thought you'd love forever, who you wanted back so badly, maybe wasn't so perfect after all.

Part of this creeping dissatisfaction comes from the way Rickman infiltrates the home Stevenson was just beginning to claim as her own as she came into her own as an independent woman. Rickman insists on cranking up the heat, invites all his ghost buddies over, starts rearranging the furniture. Was he always like this and she had just forgotten about it? Is this some side effect of being a ghost? Or does Rickman have his own ulterior motives?

Despite the fantasy elements, this is about as realistic a take on a mature, intimate relationship that you're likely to see in the movies. But that's not to say TRULY MADLY DEEPLY is a cold and sarcastic movie. It is as warm and alive as any other romance. It's just a little more grown up.

Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Perfect

There is a key scene about 40 minutes into PERFECT that, I think, must be the only reason this movie is remembered today, if, indeed it is remembered at all. It features John Travolta working out in an aerobics class led by Jamie Lee Curtis. Together the two of them sweat, thrust their pelvises, and hump the air aggressively, all the while staring into each others' eyes, which, awkwardly, turns out to be straight into the camera. The scene lasts almost 5 minutes.

They both look crazy for opposite reasons. Curtis looks crazy because her character, the aerobics instructor, seems to take this so seriously. She's kind of like Patrick Swayze as the bouncer in ROAD HOUSE. She has taken a rather mundane day job and approaches it as if she is dealing with important, life and death world affairs. She works out as if she'd leading a boot camp. I suppose many aerobics instructors may be like this, I don't know -- my waistline should make it clear that I do not hang out in health clubs. Point is, it's ridiculous.

Travolta, on the other hand, has a goofy grin on his face the whole time. It looks like he thinks this new-fangled aerobics thing (or, "slimnastics" as we're informed, a term which is never, ever used in real life) is the most fun he's had since Saturday morning cartoons. Now, you and I, the viewer, know this is John Travolta, the star of GREASE and SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER. We know the man can dance, so while it's not very fun to watch him thrust in short shorts with a visibly bulging package swinging dangerously free, we at least know he's at ease doing these things.

But if you take the movie on its own terms, you're supposed to believe Travolta is a reporter for Rolling Stone who has uncovered a scandal involving a cocaine smuggling business tycoon who claims high ups in the U.S. government are behind drug trafficking. He's convincing enough in his scenes, and I guess it's not impossible such a guy would take to aerobics with a child-like vim and vigor, but come on. Wouldn't the scene be more interesting if he was bad at aerobics, or took a while to get the hang of it, or couldn't keep up, or looked confused, or looked embarrassed, or anything other than completely at ease?

You might be wondering why hard-hitting reporter Travolta is even in an aerobics class at all. Well, after busting the cocaine scam wide open, his next big story idea is to expose the new singles clubs of the 80s -- the gym. It's hard to imagine, looking back on 1985 from 2012, that there was a time when it was shocking and new for giant workout emporiums like 24 Hour Fitness to exist. But, there was a time, apparently, when hungry journalists went from exposing government corruption directly to exposing gyms as. . . I dunno. . . places people meet each other?

Early on Travolta zeroes in on Curtis as the star for his story, but she's resistant due to a bad run-in she had with "gotcha journalism" (as Sarah Palin would say) earlier in her previous career as an Olympic hopeful swimmer. As he attempts to court her for his story, he ends up instead courting her for romance, and soon their personal entanglements add another hurdle to the story. Ethically, Travolta refuses to mix business with pleasure, so he's forced to look elsewhere for his sources and to tread lightly writing a Curtis-approved story, instead of the sex filled expose Rolling Stone wants.

The supporting cast includes a few familiar faces and names, including Marilu Henner and Laraine Newman as a couple of gym groupies looking for men, and Jann Wenner, infamous editor of Rolling Stone, playing a fictionalized version of himself. Newman is particularly effective in an almost heart breaking performance as a woman who is driven to great lengths to make herself "perfect" -- if this story line had been developed and expanded upon, and some other threads dropped, we might have had a movie. Wenner, on the other hand, was clearly not meant to be in front of the camera.

PERFECT suffers from the same problems as many other films that attempt to find the "next big thing" to exploit -- the creators are obviously close enough to the subject that they know something, but far enough away from it that everything rings false. Again, I don't know, this movie could be spot-on -- for all I know, this could be exactly what the aerobics scene was in L.A. in the mid-80s. Even if that's the case, it still rings false. It's just like all those stories I read by other students when I was in college that seemed fake. "But it really happened!" they'd always protest. So, make it seem real.

I guess the problem may stem from the misguided instinct to make everything seem important. It's as if the writers don't think it's enough to have this be a slice of life among gym junkies. They have to approach it as if the gym junkies, the audience watching the film, and the writers themselves, honestly think all this is the most important stuff ever. So, of course, the audience leaves thinking, "What's the big deal?"

What's worse is the fact that this movie has two plots that seem to undermine each other -- the government drug cover up and the aerobics scene. Of course on an objective scale you'd have to admit the government drug cover up is actually the more important of the two stories. Travolta's choices involving journalistic ethics and personal integrity could lead to great personal sacrifices, including jail time or even endangering his own life. But, the movie wants us to believe all of this is just as important as Travolta's influence on a small circle of friends and acquaintances at a gym.

Now, I guess you could argue on an individual scale, a person's close relationships are just as important to him or her as his relationship with the world at large. Still, in a (basically) fictional film, it doesn't make for great drama to compare and contrast one more dramatic story with one less dramatic story and expect the audience to give both stories the same weight. In fact, based on the way the movie is put together, it's almost as if the movie wants you to think the aerobics story is more important than the government cover up one.

There is possibly a fun little snapshot of a place and time in this movie, waiting to get out. Travolta and Curtis are likable, even though their characters aren't, particularly, and some of the stuff about the societal implications of what the fitness craze stands for is thought provoking and emotionally involving. But this is all so buried within the needlessly over-written screenplay that it becomes a chore to watch.

In a final "Fuck you!" to the viewer, after sitting through two hours of this, the ineptitude of the filmmakers reaches its climax when we're deprived any real emotional denouement between the characters we've been asked to care about the whole time. Oh, the denouement happens. It's just offscreen. Like all the other potentially interesting stuff in this flick.

Sadie Says:

For those of you who have known me a while, you know that I have a weird obsession with PERFECT. Paul picked up on it right off the bat. The dance scene alone is worth a watch, along with the snapshot of a time and a place. To be noted, are the many leotards and 80s outfits that make their way into this film. What happened to the high rise leotard? The male sweat short short?

The plot is ridiculous, the story is completely unsatisfying, and it really makes no sense. What DOES make sense is the dancing, the sheer absurdity of it all, and the fact that you can appreciate these stars trying to make it in show biz.

This is the part of my response where I get to say how wonderful Paul is for giving this movie a serious critique. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever been able to take the time to analyze this novelty film and get someone as awesome as Paul to take the time to do it. I love Paul for so many reasons, and one of them is letting PERFECT make it into Romancefest.

Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Here Comes Mr. Jordan

Now here's one I bet you haven't heard of.

1941's HERE COMES MR. JORDAN stars Robert Montgomery as a dim-witted but good-hearted boxer on the verge of becoming a champ who ends up dying in a plane crash. Due to a mistake on the part of the "messenger" sent to take Montgomery to heaven (Edward Everett Horton), the boss of the celestial messengers, the titular Mr. Jodan (Claude Rains), agrees to furnish Montgomery with a new body to complete his unfinished Earthly business.

Montgomery finds himself in the body of a crooked millionaire, in the position to help out a cute girl (Evelyn Keyes) whose father is in trouble with the law. Unfortunately, the reason Montgomery is able to inhabit the body is because it was recently murdered in a conspiracy between its wife (Rita Johnson) and assistant (John Emery). Both are stupefied to find the millionaire apparently alive and well, as Montgomery takes over his life. The heavenly messengers, Rains and Horton, remain on hand to help Montgomery out. Throughout all of this, Montgomery is bent on continuing his boxing career, and eventually enlists his bewildered manager (James Gleason) for help.

Describing the plot any further would give away a couple neat little developments, but let's just say Montgomery's attempts to romance the girl, keep his would-be killers at bay and continue his boxing career find some unexpected hitches.

For a movie about life, death, reincarnation and destiny, HERE COMES MR. JORDAN keeps things relatively light and surface level, but I think that is to the movie's credit. It moves along at a brisk pace, and although Montgomery often questions the other-worldly machinations at work, the film itself seems to take things rather matter of factly, with a minimal amount of special effects and not much focus on the "importance" of the whole thing.

The cast, as always, makes the picture. Montgomery is totally believable and avoids being boring as the nice guy. Rains brings a touch of friendly and wise class to the affair. James Gleason has some great moments as the increasingly befuddled manager.

The heart of the whole film can be found in the last touching scene in which Montgomery and Keyes finally come together. The way they approach each other, cautiously, as if drawn together by fate, is touching in its simplicity and elevates the movie from a nice afternoon diversion to the realm of a real (if overlooked) classic. And, the way Claude Rains looks on with a big warm-hearted smile on his face seals the deal: this is the definition of a feel good movie.

Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Four Weddings and a Funeral

Blah, blah, "You've never seen FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL?!" blah, blah. Broken record.

Anyway, I'm here to tell you FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL is as good as everyone has always said it was. No surprise there.

The story famously follows affable and scattered commitment-phobe Hugh Grant and his group of buddies through -- you guessed it -- four weddings and a funeral. At first, we're overwhelmed with the large group of friends and their various familial and other connections, until, social event after social event, we start to recognize them and grow closer to them until we feel like we're part of the gang.

Prominent among the guests is Simon Callow, older, wiser, and more drunk than the rest; his close friend -- and lover? (John Hannah); Grant's deaf brother (David Bower); Grant's punky roommate (Charlotte Coleman) and Kristin Scott Thomas as an old (and possibly future) flame of Grant's.

Over the course of the celebrations, Grant finds himself falling in love with an alluring, fresh-faced American (Andie MacDowell) who turns out to be engaged to another man. Grant is able to seal the deal with MacDowell in the sack, and they clearly have chemistry, but for whatever reason, whether ego or lack of communication, they're unable to confess their love for each other until it is seemingly too late.

The film wisely allows all of this to develop sneakily on the sidelines as small comedic bits take up the forefront. The weddings are far from perfect, including an unexpected death, a mix up with the wedding rings, a groom with cold feet and a vicar who gets stage fright (Rowan Atkinson in a memorable, scene stealing performance). Thanks to this structure, the machinations of the typical romantic comedy plot don't seem quite as contrived or obtrusive. They're relegated to the background as the personalities and quirks of the characters are given the spotlight.

Aside from avoiding cliche, this device also allows the film to develop some real poignancy. After all, you care more about weddings and funerals when you know and love the people involved, and FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL allows the audience to know and love the characters in a way most paint by numbers romantic comedies do not.

Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - Wings of Desire

Although there is a romance between a man and a woman central to WINGS OF DESIRE, it is really a romance between God and his creation, or more specifically, one angel and mankind. This famous Wim Wenders film is the tale of a world in which unseen angels observe humanity, only occasionally intervening, but watching and listening.

Bruno Ganz stars as an angel observing Berlin in the then-contemporary mid-80s, when the wall still divided the city. Otto Sander is another angel, and together, the two silently float above the city, perch on building tops and statues, descend to the streets below, into libraries and night clubs, and listen to the pensive, frightened, optimistic, pessimistic, soul-searching and sometimes oblivious thoughts of the humans around them.

A plot slowly begins to develop as Ganz finds himself yearning to become human, moved to experience all he observes, and, most specifically, to meet a circus acrobat (Solveig Dommartin) he has fallen in love with. This plot is never forced onto the movie, however, and its developments come late in the running time and almost as an afterthought. The majority of the film is spent in a quiet, reverent, meditative, and elegiac state, simply observing little moments in the lives of humans, and how they add up to more than the sum of their parts.

Otto Sander is also on hand as another angel, and together, with Ganz, a wide variety of subjects are followed and observed, including an old poet (Curt Bois) who ruminates on his own war-torn past, the state of his divided city, cut in two both geographically and by the passage of time, and the nature of peace and violence in the big picture.

The angels also meet Peter Falk, playing himself, who is in town to shoot a movie, and seems to be more wise to the presence of the angels than anyone else in town. Except the children, of course. But then, Falk always had a child-like glimmer in his eye.

The film is shot mostly in beautiful, dreamy black and white with the exception of a few key scenes in full color. One scene, in particular, sticks out in my mind, in which we observe a seemingly gray and drab laundromat in black and white only to find out it is shockingly painted in bright, happy tones when we switch to color.

Similar to masters like Malick and Kubrick, Wenders is able to transcend the mundane and ordinary to reach sublimely spiritual heights with WINGS OF DESIRE by counter-intuitively focusing on the very specific, tiny details of life. That's when you know a movie is truly great -- when it says a lot with very little.