Archive for Jodorowsky

Man and His Mut(t)

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 21, 2021 by dcairns

A DOG’S LIFE, Reel #3. Now read on…

David Robinson’s ultradiligent Chaplin bio uncovers the purchase of some beer for Mut the dog in A DOG’S LIFE. Apparently it was necessary to get the young fellow drunk so Chaplin could use him as a pillow. Not the sort of thing one approves of, obviously, but not on the same level as tripping horses. They could have got a vet to etherise the pooch, but that would have been MORE risky.

Edna gets the boot from the Green Lantern. That job had no future anyway. She’s fired for not making nice with a rough customer, the sort of situation that would turn up in films back in the day without anyone thinking it was “dark” or “inappropriate for children.”

Charlie (Chaplin) is awoken by Scraps (Mut) kicking dirt in his face. But the day gets better: Scraps has dug up the bulging wallet given up to muggers by a drunken millionaire in the previous reel. Charlie is suddenly in funds.

Obeying a natural impulse, Charlie returns to the joint he was kicked out of the day before in order to swank it up. He rolls a cigarette singlehandedly while standing motionless on the crowded dance floor to display his cool. The fag disintegrates in his hand.

He finds Edna, her bag packed (she’s been LIVING in the Green Lantern?) and consoles her. He hi-hats the barman, flashing his new-found loot, still unwisely in the original wallet. The thieves, spotting this from a handy position above, maybe realise this fellow’s stolen their stealings, or maybe they just see money and do what they do: in the speed of the storytelling, one kind of assumes they recognize the billfold as their own ill-gotten gains. They wallop Charlie in the midst of his elaborate mime about settling down in the country.

Charlie is then ejected by the barman — he does an extraordinary unconscious tiptoe lope as he’s dragged by the collar. Edna comforts him outside, and Chaplin performs a recovering memory in great detail — you can see just where in the plot he’s got to, purely from his expressions.

With barely a pause, Charlie sets off to steal back the money he stole from the men who originally stole it. We don’t see how he manages to get back in, but we see him hold a finger to his lips to hush Edna, so it seems SNEAKING is involved.

The thugs are sitting in their upper booth, from where they snatched Charlie’s wad. There’s a convenient curtain with a convenient tear at eye level. Charlie has hold of a mallet (for uncorking casks). He crawls along behind the bar, beneath the distracted barman (it’s only the front door bit that’s conveniently ellided, the rest plays fair).

CLUNK! Charlie knocks Thug #1 unconscious with the hammer, a blow merely suggested, with Lubitschian delicacy, by the wafting of the curtain and the sudden poleaxed expression on Thug #1. He’s played by Albert Austin and this is his apotheosis. His signature role for Chaplin is staring blankly from just above a cookie-duster. So, playing eyes-open unblinking unconsciousness for a protracted spell is very much his forte.

This is a major stepiece for CC, maybe the best thing he’s done in his career to date. Inserting his arms under the stupefied Austin’s, Charlie IMPERSONATES HIS ARMS. It’s a great gag with an uncanny edge — so much so that Alejandro Jodorowsky (a mime director who worked with Marceau) was able to spin a whole movie out of it (padded out with an elephant’s funeral and the like). It inhabits a spectrum with the dance of the bread rolls in THE GOLD RUSH — a fantastic beast is created out of bits of human and/or other matter — the miracle of Frankenstein.

Coming up with the idea is impressive, but Chaplin also executes it with staggering skill. He has to make Austin seem plausibly alert and responsive — in his usual, zonked and glassy manner, anyway — using only his arms and hands. He succeeds in a thousand ways, all while his victim’s zombie gaze testifies mutely (how else?) to the absurdity of the proposition.

Many many variants are developed — see the comatose Austin clink glasses, drink (using Charlie’s mouth, chin propped on shoulder Red Queen style), decorously daub his lips with a kerchief which is then stashed, after fumbling attempts to blindly locate an inside pocket, under his jacket shoulder.

A lot of this performance is necessary to get Thug #2 to split the loot, and then to get both shares. As Thug #2, old favourite Bud Jamison, steps in to what would have been the late Eric Campbell’s role for the asking, bringing less menace but more dopey, inebriated gawping. He is convincingly the kind of person who would fall for all this.

According to Vonnegut, slapstick = grotesque situational poetry.

The callousness of reconcussing Austin when he threatens to come to is also commendable, and the funny pay-off when both dupes regain consciousness after Charlie’s departure puts the tin lid on it — Jamison wakes, and sees Austin sitting opposite with a broken beer bottle, and makes the inevitable assumption, so Austin gets thumped AGAIN.

Charlie is nabbed by that damn bartender and there’s a brilliant bit of wallet-snatching, as the barman (Dave Anderson, a tall Swede who seemingly worked as an assistant director as much as he acted) snatches the waller from Charlie, Thug #2 snatches it from him, Thug #1 snatches it from him, he snatches it back, the barman snatches it back from HIM and Charlie completes the loop by snatching it one last time and legging it.

Is it arguably a weakness that Scraps, let a lone Edna, has nothing much to do during the climax? Doesn’t matter.

The chase leads back to Syd’s lunch wagon, and a brilliant bit of poetic transfiguration transforms this into a shooting gallery, with the Brothers Chaplin as moving targets and a china plate getting somehow bullet-ridden so Charlie can use it as a kind of mask, peering through the perforations.

For once, the kops (more and more like actual cops, less like comedy devices — grim facts of life) actually make things better, grabbing the bad guys while Charlie, Edna and Scraps flee to the safety of the epilogue.

But not before Chaplin has shown us, gleefully, that the unoffending Syd character is a ruined man.

Chaplin can be cruel.

But he treats himself and his family unit to a bucolic finale, as he plants seeds in his own rather laborious manner, and Scraps, visibly male throughout, miraculously blesses the little home with a litter of pinto pups.

***

Unhappy aftermaths:

Would Mut/Scraps have continued as Charlie’s boon companion, or made further cameo appearances when the plot demanded it? Probably not, but he didn’t have the chance, poor fellow, because when Chaplin went on a well-earned vacation after completing this short, Mut pined away and died. It seems he was so used to Chaplin’s daily attention on the shoot, he couldn’t do without it.

Syd’s acting career went in fits and starts, as he spent a lot of time managing Chaplin’s business affairs, which he seems to have done shrewdly — fortunes were made. But he made a few features as star — a version of CHARLEY’S AUNT, and THE MAN ON THE BOX, which is not bad. He made a couple in Britain, too, which is where he raped and mutilated a co-star called Molly Wright, and fled the country to escape the consequences. British International Pictures settled out of court, which tends to suggest Syd was guilty, and Wright certainly didn’t bite her own nipple off. Horrifyingly, Syd apparently joked about the incident later. (Also horribly, the documentary Sydney, the Other Chaplin, while not denying his guilt, tries to shrug off this assault. Syd’s biographer, Lisa Haven, says that nobody’s ever heard of Molly Wright, she didn’t do anything else, so… SO?)

I guess Charlie believed Syd’s protests of innocence, or else Syd was such an essential companion (not just the bonds of [half]blood, but a fellow survivor of that awful Victorian childhood) that he couldn’t part with him. It still gives me the creeps.

Secret Cinema

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 22, 2015 by dcairns

Robert-Shaw-image1

As you might have noticed, we don’t tend to do lists here at Shadowplay. I have, at various times in my life, enjoyed making lists, but now the internet is flooded with them, so I will only do lists if they can be complete rubbish, like this one.

So, what follows is a list of the most secret films ever made, films that have never made it onto their respective auteurs’ filmographies.

Hitchcocks-Home

1) Alfred Hitchcock’s STOLEN. Alfred Hitchcock’s career officially contains two missing films, the unfinished NUMBER 13 and THE MOUNTAIN EAGLE, completed but lost. But some time in the sixties, Hitchcock conceived a complex, self-referential movie called STOLEN, which was designed to be stolen and never recovered. Hitchcock scripted and shot a complete feature film which then went missing without a trace. The empty film cans were later retrieved, but with no trace of the footage. It has been suggested that, as a kind of perfect crime, Hitch actually shot the movie without film in the camera, and thus STOLEN never actually existed. At any rate, he planned a major publicity drive, inviting audiences to buy tickets and see a blank screen glowing white where the movie would have been had it not been nicked (using a slogan adapted from THE BIRDS: “Stolen Isn’t Coming”), but Universal bosses nixed the scheme and the whole thing was hushed up.

2) Alejandro Jodorowsky’s NUDE. After he lost the rights to Frank Herbert’s DUNE and saw Dino de Laurentiis make a dog’s dinner out of it, the famously eccentric Jodorowsky attempted to make his own version without copyright by rearranging all the letters. DUNE became NUDE and the rest of the story was similarly rearranged, making NUDE officially the first filmed anagram. The adventures of Sir Lead Taupe on the planet Ark-Sari, where he battles the evil Bonar Nan-Honker and rides on a colossal Norm’s-wad, NUDE also lived up to its title by being made without a costume designer, or even costumes. To further save money, Jodorowsky adapted an idea from his earlier plans, in which Salvador Dali as the emperor was to have been played party by a life-sized statue (because Dali would only agree to a few days’ filming). Going one better, Jodorowsky cast his film entirely with statues. In reality, the extremely limited budget only ran to one naked statue, which the director modified from shot to shot with a series of wigs, false beards and false breasts. The film, basically a series of shots of statues with anagramized dialogue dubbed on, was immediately slapped with an injunction by Dino De Laurentiis and was never screened. Jodorowsky subsequently denied ever making it. But he totally did.

3) THE BAWDY ADVENTURES OF TINTIN. Remember when Peter Jackson was going to make the second part of the TINTIN saga begun by Spielberg? But then nobody went to see the Spielberg film because the mo-cap characters looked like corpse-puppets? Well, in fact, Jackson shot his film back-to-back with Spielberg and it has been awaiting release ever since. Owing to the disappointing response to the corpse-puppet version, however, Jackson has been working furiously to make the footage acceptable to the public. First, he toyed with releasing the film straight, without animation, just as a series of scenes of Jamie Bell and Andy Serkis in gimp-suits, studded with measles, cavorting in front of greenscreens. TINTIN DOES DOGVILLE was the working title of this version. Then Jackson considered a return to his low-comedy roots, adding a lot of sex and violence. In this cut, the Thompson Twins would form an incestuous relationship, Captain Haddock would turn out to be a female transvestite, and Snowy… but it is better not to know. Fans will learn the truth when the film finally sees the light of day as the fourth part of THE HOBBIT trilogy.

stock-footage-film-leader-countdown

4) Andy Warhol’s UNTITLED. Not its real title. The true title is . Not a full stop, just a space. Like this one: . Not the colon, not the full stop, the bit in between. This has ensured that even when film historians remember to include   on Warhol’s filmography, nobody notices it. The film itself is just sixty minutes of Candy Darling’s left nipple.

5) FILM MAUDIT. Jean Cocteau, having invented this useful term, then had to use it as a title for a film he made about swanning around Picasso’s villa, taking lots of opium, and annoying Picasso in his trunks. The film lived up to its name when it vanished in a puff of smoke after coming into contact with a drunken Robert Shaw.

6) UNSEEN FILM. This 1997 curiosity was cobbled together by director Raul Ruiz from out-takes of several of his earlier films and part of an incomplete Jesus Franco women-in-prison romp. Threatened lawsuits by several cast members (or their executors) were only forestalled when Ruiz screened the film for a drunken Robert Shaw.

download

7) NIDAKRA .RM This unofficial version of Welles’ MR. ARKADIN was never released, but some claim it to be the director’s preferred cut. Unhappy with his makeup, which mainly consisted of two false beards, one stuck to the top of his head, Welles toyed with the idea of threading the film backwards so it projected in reverse and upside down. He had always favoured achronological narrative structures, and viewed in this inverted manner the beard sprouting from his scalp didn’t look so bad. The film itself was just a perfectly ordinary print of one or other cut of the film, so that even letting Robert Shaw near it didn’t ultimately do it any harm.

8 1/2) Fellini’s NINE AND A HALF. We all know that EIGHT AND A HALF was Fellini’s eight-and-a-halfth film, but what of his nine-and-a-halfth? This was a misguided experiment inspired by the maestro’s exploration of LSD. JULIETTE OF THE SPIRITS may have been influenced by Fellini’s hallucinogenic experiment, but the untitled follow-up was actually made DURING an LSD trip. Reversing his usual practice, Fellini did not have his actors speak numbers and then dub on dialogue: ha had them speak a carefully prepared script and then dubbed on numbers. Producer Dino de Laurentiis had previously had a scene from NIGHTS OF CABIRIA stolen from the lab to prevent Fellini from using it, but on this occasion he had the entire film stolen and claimed it on the insurance. Rumours abound that Adrian Lyne later claimed the film simply by adding the word “WEEKS” on the end and redubbing it. And adding tits. Others claim that a remorseful Fellini begged Robert Shaw to borrow the negative, usually a safe way of destroying something, but that several reels may have survived despite Shaw setting fire to the cans, his house, and his legs.

The Forgotten has been on hiatus for Cannes, but will return to The Notebook next week.

The Circus is Coming To Town

Posted in FILM with tags , , on September 26, 2012 by dcairns

Alejandro Jodorowsky’s psycho-mime-melodrama SANTA SANGRE, reviewed for Electric Sheep, where you will find some thoughts developed further in this week’s concluding episode of Forgotten Gialli…