Archive for Mickey Rooney

The Unseen Peril

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 22, 2022 by dcairns

I bet we can see the unseen peril.

Chapter 10 of FLASH GORDON begins with Flash, in a deathlike stupor, menaced by the fire dragon who might be called Gocko — the recap of this takes far longer than the resolution: “I’ll destroy it with this grenade!” barks Zarkov, and does so. The rubbery foe explodes into clumps and falls over sideways.

The high priest is outraged. He doesn’t go so far as to claim the fire dragon was sacred, but it was guarding the secret chamber of the great god Tao, which you must admit comes pretty close.

Fun with camera angles! Apparently Fred Stephani had some time on his hands this week, so he gives us two novel views of Ming’s throne room. A zombified Flash is tasked with choosing the one he loves the most, like Lassie. But, not like Lassie, he’s been doped with the same love potion (#9) used so effectively by Mickey Rooney to enchant Ava Gardner the lovers in A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. Or maybe not — it’s merely a draught of forgetfulness — waters of Lethe — and Aura now tries to persuade the befuddled polo player that she’s his one and only. Not clear why Dale just stands there staring while this goes on, but the scenario rarely allows her what you’d call agency.

Vultan protests this jiggery-pokery and is cast into dungeons dark dank and donk — possible FRANKENSTEIN leftovers, as is the score. Prince Barin wisely chooses not to protest and reports to Zarkov.

Larry “Buster” Crabbe may not be the world’s best actor. Larry “Buster” Crabbe may be the world’s worst actor. But he is very good at playing brainwashed. “Don’t you know me?” asks Dale, quoting Stan Laurel in DIRTY WORK under admittedly fairly different circumstances (chimney sweep genetic regression calamity). Flash just stares into space (which is easy to do in space). He has the ardour, the passionate responsiveness, of Li’l Abner. Sad violins.

Prince Barin tries to fetch him for Zarkov, but the suggestible earth-dolt is tricked into seeing PB as his enemy, A boudoir swordfight ensues, easily the equal of the one which opens LISZTOMANIA. (I don’t know why Ken Russell didn’t use Liszt’s FLASH GORDON theme in his rock opera biopic, his aesthetic has plenty in common with the Flash Gordon Cinematic Universe, and I mean that as a compliment. MAHLER even has a cave-dwelling fire dragon.)

Assisted by Zarkov, Barin knocks Flash (more) senseless with the hilt of his sword, adding brain damage to our strapping hero’s mental woes. Unfortunately it isn’t one of those blows to the head that restores a lost memory. It’s just the kind that makes you fall down on the boudoir carpet. They lug the fallen Flash to the lab and enlist the healing power of neon tubes. It’s so crazy it just might work.

Griffith Observatory calling! Funny how everyone abandons Flash’s prone form once the earth gets in touch. Dale, hearing the radio, rushes to the wall safe space viewer to take a look at the old planet, as if she expects to see its lips moving. Zarkov manages to make himself dimly audible to the terrestrial listeners, something he’s been struggling to achieve since episode 2, and which has no dramatic consequences whatsoever.

Zarkov’s electrical tubing soon restore’s Flash’s “mind” but just then, an imperial death squad arrives from Ming. They stand him against the wall, level their ray guns — but Zarkov does the business with the old lever and makes Flash vanish. The execution squad scream like girls and run away, pursued by a thunderbolt wipe which leads into the Continued Next Week card.

So — it’s not the peril that’s unseen, it’s the imperilled. But that wouldn’t have made a good episode title. And neither one is a match for In the Claws of the Tigron, which is NEXT —

Party Down

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2019 by dcairns

Why didn’t I find THE PARTY funny as a kid? It’s weird, as I was a big Peter Sellers fan, a big PINK PANTHER movie fan. I laughed once — the flying shoe caught me by surprise.

Of course, I was watching the film on TV, pan-and-scanned. But I was used to that. In fact, an early occasion when I became aware of film style was when I noted the strange mechanical movements in RETURN OF THE PINK PANTHER — faced with Edwards’ audacious use of the widescreen, the hapless clod charged with having the film “adapted to fit your screen” was forced to pan, with grinding slowness, from one side of the 1:2.35 frame to the other, creating the exact effect of HAL’s lip-reading in 2001. As a tiny tot, I didn’t know what was behind this, but I thought it an interesting directorial choice.

Since a lot of THE PARTY is about social embarrassment, maybe that just didn’t speak to me as a kid. In fact, a lot of it’s about feeling lost at a party, something I’ve experienced a lot more in the interim. God, it’s agonizing, and that’s where the funniness comes from, as usual with Edwards. Sellers’ character, Indian actor Hrundi V. Bakshi, is cinema’s great lonely man. I mean, he has it way worse than Travis Bickle, who at least was a native English speaker. Bakshi wanders the big crazy LA house, humiliating himself in every imaginable way, clumsy, unlucky, unable to read social cues, not knowing anyone… it’s just terrible. I laughed quite a lot, and I was always on his side.

And yes, it’s slightly racist. The idea of a white man impersonating an Indian for comic effect is uncomfortable today, but if we accept that this was not abnormal at the time, we can admire the sympathy and skill of Sellers’ performance. As David Wingrove pointed out in a recent conversation, he’s not Mickey Rooney in BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY’S — who I found myself shamefacedly guffawing at when they screened the first reel on 35mm in Bologna last year. The sheer energy of the burlesque, you know. But BAT treats Mr. Yunioshi as a clown because of his race — he’s unworthy of being taken seriously. Whereas THE PARTY, I think, takes Bakshi VERY seriously. That strange, sad little coda…

The most troublesome bit is the opening. The plot requires Bakshi to make Hollywood enemies — the prologue explains how he came to be brought out to Tinseltown to appear in some kind of Raj epic. And the joke seems to more or less explicitly be, “If an Indian actor were brought to Hollywood, it would be a disaster because he would be an idiot.” Bakshi takes an outrageous amount of time to die (so he’s a bad actor), he wears a waterproof wristwatch in a Victorian period movie (actually it’s someone else’s job to prevent that) and he steps on a detonator and blows up a whole building before the cameras are rolling (could happen to any of us).

Each of these gags is moderately amusing, but they don’t add up to a coherent character sketch, and although the sequence is necessary to the plot, it still feels like the movie really starts as Bakshi arrives at the party, at which it becomes funnier and more sympathetic.

One day after admiring Peter Cook’s red socks in BEDAZZLED (a fashion choice also favoured by Michael Powell) I was charmed by Bakshi’s footwear. He wears white shoes, so that when he steps in mud it’s as bad as it could possibly be. And red socks, so that when he loses is a shoe, it’s as bad as THAT could possibly be.

Comedy, it seems, needs to be both cruel and kind.

Versus

Posted in FILM with tags , , , on December 11, 2017 by dcairns

 

                                  

Whew! That was a struggle.