Rage of Honor

THE MOVIE

Ruby seems to from been made to ditty reason and one reason only – to capitalize on Oliver’s Stone attainment of JFK (which was released the previous year) with yet another movie far the conspiracy to assassinate the American President. But comparing the two movies is an exercise in futility. While JFK is a slick, well-made piece of cinema that raises some real questions with the assassination, Ruby only achieves success in relating the story of a stripper (played by Matched Peaks Sherilyn Fenn) who danced at Ruby’s work the runway club…only to acquaint someone with something us in the end credits that the individual has been completely fabricated in the interest of the purposes of the movie.

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What we are left with then is a movie that takes some of the facts that we do know are true about Jack Ruby and weaves a sum total lot of forming out of thin bearing around those facts. In the interest of example, we know that Ruby had some ties to both the mafia and the Dallas police. So this film takes those facts and puts Ruby in the middle of a plot between the heads of the pre-eminent mafia families and the CIA to either slaughter Castro or Kennedy – which constantly one they can rent to first.

Because the movie puts so much emphasis on a unreal character – the stripper named Candy Cane – it’s hard to believe half of the things that Ruby tries to the moment as fact, because bordering on all of them issue in one way or the other from Jack Ruby’s relationship with this stripper that the film essentially tells us does not prevail.

So while it’s impossible to view Ruby as an spot on target depiction of the man, how does it stand as a piece of entertainment? Well, it’s not horrible…but it doesn’t pinch that the silent picture automatically conjures up images of Stone’s far choice JFK. But I did like Fenn’s character a countless – perchance because she was one that the writers of the movie felt free to forth in any way that they wished. In in reality, all things considered, a film about a stripper working at Jack Ruby’s Carousel Club during the time of the Kennedy assassination would probably been make a name for oneself more attractive than attempting to do a biopic on Ruby at all – since so much of the man remains a mystery.

“I think the film’s most notable
achievement is that it somehow survived the Communist censors.”

Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz

This is the only narrative feature made by painter and documentary
filmmaker Jürgen Böttcher. It was banned before its “official”
release in 1966 by the East Germans because of its sexually frank subject
matter and for not being “meaningful,” and not over anything political.
It was never officially released in Böttcher’s homeland until after
reunification in 1990.

It’s a tale of love and disillusionment between a young couple, married
for only two years, who are trying to come to terms with their differences.
There are supposed influences by both the French New Wave and Italian Neo-Realism
movements, in this slow moving arty presentation that has a few lingering
enlightening moments but through no fault of its own there’s something
vital missing from it that takes away most of its intended power. The film
never received the ending Böttcher intended because the State censors
didn’t allow him to finish the film and even the “official” print that
was screened during the 1990 Berlin International Film Festival was actually
the same old unfinished print meant for the East-German Communist party
censors (and the same film I saw on this DVD).

Al (Rolf Römer) is a hardworking but unambitious auto mechanic,
his wife Lisa (Monika Hildebrand) is a very attractive, sweet and dedicated
hospital nurse. They live in a cramped one-room apartment in Berlin, and
both feel something is missing in their marriage. Al talks things over
with his caring 70-year-old artist neighbor Mogul (Paul Eichbaum) before
he moves back to his working-class parents’ house. Nothing much really
happens, as Al roams a spotlesly clean East Berlin eyeballing some lovely
women and hanging out with his motorcycle riding pals. Lisa tries to find
her bearings, now that she’s separated, but is depressed and unsure of
herself in her new status. The suspense is whether these two nice people
will get back together, as almost everyone they know thinks they should.

It was difficult for me to find anything about this film that was
controversial, but that being said it certainly rubbed the East German
censors the wrong way. I think the film’s most notable achievement is that
it somehow survived the Communist censors and gives us a peek at a dreary
East Berlin and at a few regular folks at the time of the great divide
that are easy to identify with.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, based upon the Oscar Wilde unusual, represents an interesting experiment by Metro, reported to have cost over $2 million.

The morbid theme of the Wilde story is built around Gray: his contempt for the painting that was made of him, the fears of not retaining youth and, of course, the unregenerate depths to which Gray sinks.

In the adaptation by Albert Lewin, much of the offscreen narration, explaining among other things what is going on in Gray’s mind may be too much for most to grasp.

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Hurd Hatfield is pretty-boy Gray. He plays it with little feeling, as apparently intended, though he should have aged a little toward the end. George Sanders, misogynistic of mind and a cynic of the first water, turns in a very commendable performance. It’s he who upsets the romance, ostensibly serious on Gray’s part, which has developed with a cheap music hall vocalist. She’s Angela Lansbury, who registers strongly and very sympathetically.

[Original release prints included inserts in Technicolor.]

1945: Best B&W Cinematography

Nominations: Best Supp. Actress (Angela Lansbury), B&W Art Direction

It is the summer of 1980 and Finn Earl (Anton Yelchin) has a perversely fatalistic view of being. He never met his anthropologist paterfamilias who lives in South America with the Iskanani Indians, and his masseuse ma Liz (Diane Lane) is a cocaine addict. In a request to whirl above a new leaf, Liz moves to Fresh Jersey as masseuse to billionaire Ogden C. Osborne (Donald Sutherland) who is an over the hill friend. Life changes instantly and quickly Finn finds himself lot the rich who are very rare, including Osborne’s fun-loving grandson Bryce (Chris Evans) and sweet granddaughter Maya (Kristen Stewart) with whom Finn strikes up a romance.

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I Could Read the Sky

UK/Ireland/France 1999

Reviewed by Charlotte O'Sullivan

Synopsis

Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.

An old Irish man lives out his days in the cottage where he was born. As his mind ranges over various topics, the memories become more troubled: his brothers and sisters leave Ireland for England and America; then he takes the boat to England, where he's offered various low-paid jobs. He remembers seeing his brother Joe in a factory and meeting up with him. Visiting his brother's flat a month later, he found it empty.

We move back and forth between the present and the past. The young man's father dies and he returns to Ireland. The man travels to England, only to be recalled to Ireland for his mother's funeral. Back in London once more, he undergoes a breakdown but meets Maggie, an Irish woman, in a pub. They get married but she dies suddenly. The man returns to his home in Ireland, where he lives alone. He realises he is ready for death.

Review

I Could Read the Sky

, as the title suggests, is about the past in relation to the present, a notoriously tricky country to capture on film. Director/screenwriter Nichola Bruce does her best to make us feel twice removed. She uses superimposition, brings photographs to life, causes carpets to morph into bare floors and generally allows images of the past and present to lap up against each other in waves. But initially at least these seem like attempts to distract us from the fact that her highly literary script - featuring an old man reminiscing about his life, a big part of which was spent in England, away from his native Ireland - would actually make for a better radio or stage play: a one-man show that any able actor (including the beautifully shaggy, strawberry-and-cream skinned Dermot Healy) could make riveting.

Furthermore, the picture painted of Ireland - as a big-skied land awash with drink, livestock, music and ear-catching chatter - is hardly original. Many of the phrases used by the hero are lovely (after his father's funeral, he comments, "I can see it - the absence of others, draining the world"). But they seem just that - phrases perfect for an English-speaking audience accustomed to

Angela's Ashes

' gloom. Even the fierce anti-English sentiments (the whole race, apparently, are cold and culture-free) seem formulaic.

It's when our nameless narrator is discussing a far less emotive topic - the collapse and recreation of his textual identity - that something more potent kicks in. He and his labouring friends make up names for their bosses. Our hero often assumes the title J. Brady, from a name tag he found in a coat; others call themselves "Lost, after Joe", or Michael Collins, "just for the crack". And as he's telling us this the images on screen - churning cement, bricks and mortar - gain an extraordinary momentum. These materials - so rarely looked at up close - are beautiful-ugly in their anonymity, just like him. And for the first time the camera's restlessness seems justified.

Our hero's life is not all work, but once we've gained this insight into his personality, the feel of his reminiscences changes. If this man can lie to his bosses, might he not be lying to us? The grim, half-registered stories come back to haunt us (brother Joe disappearing from his flat; the dead body of his mother's brother, left to rot for three months). And each time we catch a glimpse of the public places this man has been a part of, the liquid of private life trickles into view; the very bricks, or so it would seem, spilling their blood on behalf of the elusive men who laid them. While such unholy ejaculations have taken place before in novels (think of Peter Ackroyd's

Hawksmoor

), Bruce's contribution feels genuinely cinematic,

alive

.

Given

I Could Read the Sky

's slow, unconvincing start, the wonder is that when Dermot Healy's old man realises he's ready to die, we don't want to let go; and that the very music that seemed so much a part of the traditional Irish package brings us, as it rolls over the credits, almost to tears.

Credits

Director

Nichola Bruce

Producer

Janine Marmot

Screenplay

Nichola Bruce

Based on a book by

Timothy O'Grady

Steve Pyke

Directors of Photography

Seamus Mcgarvey

Owen McPolin

Editor

Catherine Creed

Production Designer

Jane Bruce

Music/Music Producer

Iarla O'Lionáird

©Hot Property Sky Ltd.

Production Companies

The Arts Council of England/Bord Scannán na héireann - Irish Film

Board/Channel 4/The British Film Institute/ Real World Records presents in association with Gemini Films and Spider Pictures a Hot Property Film in association with Liquid Films

Supported by the National Lottery through the Arts Council of England

Produced with the assistance of Bord Scannán ha néireann - Irish Film Board

Executive Producers

Irish Film Board:

Rod Stoneman

BFI:

Roger Shannon

Gemini Films:

Paulo Branco

Spider Pictures:

Ben Gibson

Co-producer

Nicholas O'Neill

Executives in Charge of Production

Irish Film Board:

Leslie Kelly

BFI:

Angela Topping

Production Co-ordinators

Ireland:

Ciara McGowan

England:

Emma Fowler

Production Managers

Christopher Collins

Melanie Gore-Grimes

England Location Manager

Casper Mill

Assistant Directors

England:

Ben Gill

Diane Wood

Toby Hosking

England Script Supervisor

Rowena Ladbury

Casting Director

Maureen Hughes

Special Visual Effects

M2 Television

Art Directors

Ireland:

Jessica Coyle

England:

Janna Craze

Costume Designer

Helen Kane

Make-up

Ireland, Designer:

Louise Myler

England, Designer:

Karen Turner

England, Artist:

Jules Yorke Moore

Titles

Frameline

Featured Musicians

Denis Cahill

Caroline Dale

Martin Hayes

Noel Hill

Tommy McManamon

James McNally

Sinéad O'Connor

Iarla O'Lionáird

Liam O'Maonlai

Rí Rá

Music Supervisors

Amanda Jones

Mike Large

Music Co-ordination

Real World Records

Mixer

Jacquie Turner

Soundtrack

"Singing Bird"

Sound Design

Joakim Sundström

Sound Recordists

Ireland:

Dan Birch

England:

Cameron Hills

Additional Sound Recording

Ireland:

Maírin Ní Ríordáin

England:

Rashad Omar

Dubbing Mixer

Mike Prestwood-Smith

ADR Mixer

Chris Phinikas

Foley

Artist:

Jack Stew

Mixer:

Graeme Stoten

Editor:

Tim Barker

Cast

Dermot Healy

the old man

Stephen Rea

P.J.

Brendan Coyle

Francie

Maria Doyle Kennedy

Maggie

Jake Williams

young boy

Roy Larkin

young Joe

Lisa O'Reilly

Kate Creevy

Sezso

Uncle Rosco

Rachael Pilkington

young Eileen

Aidan O'Toole

Dermot

Colm O'Maonlai

Martin

Jimmy McGreevy

Da

Pat McGrath

Farmer Casey

Liam O'Maonlai

Joe

Noel O'Donovan

tailor

Francis Burke

Ma

Geraldine Fitzgerald

Eileen

Iarla O'Lionáird

singer at wedding

Bobby Casey

Dermot Grogan

Noel Hill

Jim Philbin

musicians at wedding

Mick Lally

Paddy Breathnach

Frank Murray

Gerry O'Boyle

Pat McCabe

Danny Morrison

Timothy O'Grady

Steve Pyke

Joanne Burton

Kerry Burton

Albert Griffin

Eamonn Atkinson

Emma Lowe

Claire Walsh

Sinead Murphy

Richard Holbrood

Donnchadha O'Fátharta

Peadar O'Fátharta

Jack Kelly

Patrick Tucker

Domnik Band

Denis Deasy

Frank Ward

Steve McCabe

Phil Fitzpatrick

Martin Ellis

Joe Duffy

Liz Finch

Orla McElroy

Saran McElroy

Maggie Chambers

Maria Ruiz

Beatriz O'Grady

Tristram Wymark

Certificate

tbc

Distributor

Artificial Eye Film Company

tbc feet

tbc minutes

Dolby SR

In Colour

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Four years after “Napoleon Dynamite,” the comedy of idiosyncrasy is no longer novel. “The Foot Fist Way” strains hard to revive the form, starting with its hero, taekwondo instructor Fred Simmons (Danny R. McBride). Fans of “Dynamite” might remember a similar character in that movie’s sensei Rex.

The film, the first release from Will Ferrell and Adam McKay’s production company, fails to generate a real plot, and the awkward moments work better in a context of adolescence. Quirk isn’t funny when accompanied by adultery and brutality — though a couple of lines zing.

The story begins with Simmons supposedly in control of his life and his strip mall studio. His wife (Mary Jane Bostic) cheats on him, and he beats up a bunch of kids. Repeatedly. A demo contest pits Simmons against his idol, Chuck “The Truck” (Ben Best), in the film’s final scene. But it’s too little, too late. He has already spit up blood, soiled his wedding band and lost the audience.

Vulgarity, actually, comes to take the place of quirk as the picture’s raison d’etre. Fifty minutes in, Simmons goes from a man with trouble pronouncing the word “dentistry” to one who’s just plain filthy. The scene of the switch is the only one built for great comic potential: A karate convention party turns tense when Simmons’s student, derided for being underage, attacks the party’s band. A rumble brews between the Truck’s crew and Simmons’s.

But just as the dish begins to sizzle, “Foot Fist” turns off the burners. This is fare meant to be served cool.

Putney Swope

Long before there was the genius of Robert Downey, Jr. there was his father, the filmmaker Robert Downey. A pioneer of the 1960s underground film movement, his 1969 satire of American advertising,

Putney Swope

, created a sensation on its release because of its radical treatment of race issues and consumer culture. Although "sensation" doesn't mean that it was universally applauded ? while some critics praised the picture's originality and dark humor, many others hated it passionately. The reviewer from the

Daily News

, for example, called it "vicious and vile, the most offensive picture I've ever seen? If intelligent people must see it, take along your retch-bags." Although Downey has continued to write and direct films throughout the four decades since ? and made a few very good ones, including 1972's

Greaser's Palace

? he never again garnered the attention he received for

Swope

. The plot is almost non-existent, merely serving as a framework for anecdotal gags ? when the chairman of a big-time Madison Avenue ad agency drops dead during a meeting, the board immediately takes a vote to replace him. As each member is forbidden to vote for himself, by sheer accident most of the votes go to the board's one black member, Putney Swope (Arnold Johnson), because none of the execs thought that anyone

else

would vote for him. Swope fires all but one of the extant ad men, staffs the company with black, gun-toting employees, and changes the firm's name to "Truth and Soul Advertising." Swope's agenda is to change the face of American advertising while refusing to pimp alcohol, tobacco, or war toys. The company is wildly successful, but success brings about dissatisfaction of his radical brethren (including Antonio "Huggy Bear" Fargas as a motor-mouthed, sloganeering Black Power-type named "Arab"), and the agency becomes the target of government operatives who believe that Swope's ad tactics are a security threat. Taken scene by scene, Downey's film can be quite funny ? one white ad man pitches a commercial idea as, "A duck hunter walks up to a lady's door. When she opens it, he says, 'In the Forties, it was Mitzi Gaynor and Victor Mature. In the Fifties, it was Christine Jorgensen and James Dean. In the Sixties, it's Smith & Wesson.'" And the film is beautifully composed despite the obviously low budget Downey was working with, shot in black and white with only the commercial parodies in color. But it's a movie made by a director on drugs, for viewers who are also on drugs. A great deal of the picture is made up of stuff that must have seemed hilarious when they were shooting it but, well, we'd like to be in on the jokes, too. Swope's voice is dubbed by Downey himself as a gravelly white man's growl, which is strange but not funny ? yet the early close-ups of Swope's mouth as he speaks indicates that we're supposed to find it hilarious (on the commentary track, Downey says that Johnson couldn't remember his lines so Downey overdubbed him, then discovered he liked the effect). While a few of the actors are more than competent (Allen Garfield and Allen Arbus appear in small roles), most are painfully wooden in the manner of non-actors who were cast because they're friends of the director. And the cast, the script, and Downey's direction all belie a self-satisfied glee at their own cleverness. As an example of early radical underground filmmaking,

Putney Swope

is an interesting archival document ? but it's also painfully self-indulgent, trucking in satire that's dated in the extreme, with terrible acting and humor that's often too surreal to make any sense.

Image Entertainment's DVD release, replacing an earlier offering from Rhino, offers a very good transfer from a very clean source print, and it looks great. The DD 1.0 audio is very clean, too, although volume and clarity is inconsistent due to the makeshift manner in which the original film was recorded. The optional English subtitles feature an alarming number of mistakes, most of them words that, even if misheard by the person in charge of the subtitling, ought to have been obvious from the context ? during the voting scene near the beginning of the film the word "caucus" is subtitled as "carcass," and in another scene "Shetland pony" becomes "shuttling pony." Also on board is an interview with Downey and a commentary track ? in both, the director spends a surprising amount of time talking about how unfunny

Swope

is ? although, to be fair, he also notes that he doesn't like

any

of his movies anymore. He does have an exceptional affection for the cast and the process of moviemaking, however, and his detailed comments are interesting. Keep-case.

?Origin Taylor

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Local TV celebrity and weatherman Russ Richards (John Travolta) is facing financial deflower
in his snowmobile dealership during the warmest of winters. He turns to his old pal and
shady club P Gig (Tim Roth) for help, whose illicit suggestions require the assistance
of Dale “The Thug” (Michael Rapaport). Integral to the get-rich-sudden organization, is
tempting lotto ball inamorata Crystal Latroy (Lisa Kudrow), with whom Russ and TV non-specialized manager
Dick Simmons (Ed O’Neill) are both sleeping (not at the same time). But lucky numbers
cause complications of their own…