Director – Steven Spielberg

Cast – Roy Schneider, Robert Shaw, Richard Dreyfuss, Lorraine Gary, Murray Hamilton, Carl Gottlieb, Jeffrey Kramer

Release Year – 1975

Reviewed by John of the Dead

This being one of the most well-known and infamous films of all time, this needs no formal introduction. The still yet-to-be-a-star 28 year old Stephen Spielberg made himself a household name with this film and proved his greatness in direction and his ability to made credible “Blockbuster” flicks that serve as great films as well.

Jaws follows veteran actor Roy Schneider Amity Police Chief Martin Brody, a man who personally hates the water, but somehow has wound up police chief of an island city. With the July 4^th weekend approaching, the waters of Amity become plagued by a rogue great white shark with a taste for human blood. As the weekend gets closer and more people fall victim to the massive shark it is up to Chief Brody, a shark scientist named Matt Hooper(Richard Dreyfuss) and veteran shark hunter “Quint”(Robert Shaw) to set out on a quest to kill the shark before any more lives are lost. This is no ordinary shark however, and proves to be a very formidable foe for the three assassins who are taking the battle to the shark’s newly claimed territory.

I really like how this film succeeded very well in using a giant shark as a protagonist. Many films have copied this idea, but fail miserably. Based on the novel and co-written screenplay by Peter Benchley, director Stephen Spielberg used excellent camera angles and a chilling score to set the tone for this film…right away with it’s infamous opening scene. His use of the “what you DON’T see will scare you” tension gets the job done perfectly, and was actually somewhat “incidental”. Spielberg had so many problems with the giant mechanical shark that he had no choice but to use camera-angled tension and POV shots to scare the audience. Hooray for technology right?

The acting performances in this film were top notch, and each actor/actress portrayed their character’s personalities and stereotypes as if they were born to portray these roles. How is the pacing for this film? It paces pretty well for the most part. Some scenes and dialogue could have been cut down but given Spielberg’s knack for making a film not just a “film”, you can expect some interesting dialogue and character conflict that may slow the pacing a bit, but not enough to really detriment the film.

Overall, this is a very well executed film for what it is…a film about a giant killer shark. These concepts may sound silly to some people, but this film succeeds in every aspect and won three Oscars for a reason.

Rating: 9/10

Above the main door of a certain Italian eatery in Chicago hangs a roughly 10-by-15-inch photo of Pope John Paul II. Above that (and at least twice its size) hangs a portrait of Frank Sinatra. The proportion and placement of those images, noted some years ago at dinner prior to the premiere of the Windy City-set Blink, practically begged for a metaphorical movie extrapolation. So I submit that if Citizen Kane is modern cinema’s venerable father, Jaws is its chairman of the board. (Blink, incidentally, would sort of be film’s Casey Kasem: competent and tolerable, but ultimately too dry and stale to leave a long-lasting impression.)

Although more calculatedly progressive than the second-longest reigning pontiff, Orson Welles’ 1941 film debut remains globally revered and influential, and it grows ever closer to canonization with the passage of time. Jaws, on the other hand, is brash, rhythmic and populist; immediately and broadly impactful upon its 1975 release, it has since polarized those who worship at the altar of cinema, with apostates arguing the tale of an overgrown killer shark and the men who pursue it helped usher in an era of simplistic summer fare that’s all style and no substance (or, in the case of Michael Bay’s oeuvre, neither).

Jaws strikes like its titular great white shark, ambushing viewers in the opening scene in which a woman goes for nighttime swim off the shore of Amity Island, a tourist destination amping up for a money-making Fourth of July weekend, and is pulled screaming into the depths. When portions of her wash up the next day, the coroner first deems the cause of death as shark attack, but changes his story to boating accident after pressure from the mayor (a wonderfully weasely Murray Hamilton), who would rather serve the killer shark “a smorgasbord” than frighten away tourism revenue.

Steven Spielberg’s second feature film, Jaws is the work of a blossoming master craftsman as opposed to an artist, and that’s not meant as criticism; Jesus got his start as a carpenter. Jaws, like Sinatra, borrows from its predecessors (the Hitchcock-inspired tracking zoom of Roy Scheider’s Chief Brody witnessing the geyser of blood that is the shark claiming its second victim) while employing some unique tricks of its own (creating a sense of dread by dropping the camera below the water line, employing a shark’s-eye view and not revealing the creature until late in the film—bits of inspired filmmaking abetted by the fact that the mechanical sharks kept malfunctioning) on its way to leaving an indelible cultural stamp (scaring people into the seemingly common-sense belief that the ocean is not a giant swimming pool).

Then a hungry young filmmaker bursting with confidence, creativity and daring, Spielberg has never since exhibited the gleeful killer instinct he demonstrates in Jaws’ first act, which unapologetically claims the cinematic lives of a child and a dog (to that point pretty much taboo, even for horror films) and features an armrest-gripping scene wherein two would-be shark hunters seeking a reward attempt to hook the killer fish with a “holiday roast” (the shark takes the bait … and the dock from which the men cast it).

After his own son has a close brush with the shark, the ocean-fearing Brody (“He hates the water,” his wife explains at one point, “there’s a clinical name for it…” “Drowning,” Brody interrupts) joins forces with Richard Dreyfuss’ petulant shark expert Hooper and Robert Shaw’s salty fisherman Quint to track and kill the beast.

The remainder of Jaws plays out on the open ocean aboard Quint’s modest vessel, the Orca (“You’re gonna need a bigger boat,” deadpans Brody when the massive shark makes its first appearance). While the monster remains little-seen (with the exception of some underwater footage featuring a real great white circling a midget in a cage to give the appearance of a larger-than-life shark and a graphic scene in which one of the main characters is eaten alive), its menacing presence is constant in the form of yellow flotation barrels with which the men try—unsuccessfully—to bring the beast to the surface and the rocking and creaking of the Orca as the shark bangs away at the ship.

This stretch of the film is a triumph of conception and editing, and it makes effective use of Bill Butler’s photography to create a sense of claustrophobia on the boat while depicting its vulnerability and isolation on the vast sea (Butler also worked on such ’70s greats as The Conversation and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and he would go on to employ some of Jaws’ visual gimmicks in the enjoyable, tongue-in-cheek Anaconda).

For all that is rightfully made of the dynamic filmmaking on display, too little is said of the movie’s dialogue, which is spare, direct and funny, and which seems to be one of the rare cases of too many cooks not spoiling the broth. Although the screenplay is credited to Peter Benchley, who wrote the novel on which the movie is based, and Carl Gottlieb, who would go on to write a fine making-of account of the film’s production, award-winning playwright Howard Sackler, Oscar-nominated screenwriter John Milius, Shaw and Spielberg all contributed to the script.

Perhaps the film’s greatest and most referenced segment, the scene in which Brody, Hooper and Quint sit in the Orca’s cabin sharing drinks and swapping scar stories (and to which Kevin Smith pays hilariously vulgar homage in Chasing Amy), is also its most controversial in terms of authorship. The scene climaxes with Quint describing the sinking of the USS Indianapolis during World War II; he chillingly relates how sharks picked off his fellow surviving crew members one by one as they floated, awaiting rescue: “The thing about a shark—he’s got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eyes. When he comes after you, he doesn’t seem to be living until he bites you and those black eyes roll over white.”

Milius, of Apocalypse Now and Red Dawn fame, has long claimed primary credit, but in his book The Jaws Log, Gottlieb attributes the scene largely to Shaw, himself an accomplished novelist and playwright (Shaw remained above the fray, dying in 1978). Regardless, it is a nuanced scene in a film that cares more about its characters than most summer blockbusters, of which many cinephiles bemoan Jaws being the first.

But Jaws, like Sinatra’s best work, transcends genre; Janet Leigh may have been terrified of taking a shower after Psycho, but damn near everyone who has seen Jaws has second thoughts before wading into the ocean. Sinatra said one of his greatest influences as a singer was how Tommy Dorsey played trombone: “It was my idea to make my voice work in the same way as a trombone or violin—not sounding like them, but ‘playing’ the voice like those instruments.”

Few movies play their metaphorical instruments—or their audiences—as effectively as Jaws. Even fewer can hang alongside Citizen Kane without first genuflecting.

See also:

Roger Ebert’s “Great Movies” essay on Jaws

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=%2F20000820%2FREVIEWS08%2F8200301%2F1023

The Jaws Log, Jaws script contributor Carl Gottlieb’s account of the troubled production of the film is a “making-of” classic that inspired such filmmakers as Steven Soderbergh, M. Night Shyamalan and Bryan Singer

http://www.amazon.com/Jaws-Log-30th-Anniversary/dp/1557046778/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242679321&sr=1-1

In Harm’s Way: The Sinking of the USS Indianapolis and the Extraordinary Story of Its Survivors, Doug Stanton’s tense, heart-breaking and well-researched book on the sinking of the U.S. Navy cruiser referenced by Quint in Jaws

http://www.amazon.com/Harms-Way-Indianapolis-Extraordinary-Survivors/dp/0805073663/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242677261&sr=1-1

Close to Shore, Michael Capuzzo’s gripping account of the 1916 shark attacks along New Jersey shores that inspired Peter Benchley’s novel Jaws

http://www.amazon.com/Close-Shore-Story-Terror-Innocence/dp/0767904133/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242677332&sr=1-2

The Devil’s Teeth, Susan Casey’s thrilling, observant and often humorous experience of spending time with biologists who study great whites from an outpost on the Farallon Islands off the coast of San Francisco

http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Teeth-Obsession-Survival-Americas/dp/0805080112/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242678491&sr=1-1

Blue Meridian: The Search for the Great White Shark, Peter Matthiessen’s fascinating and fluid narrative of accompanying an expedition seeking to film great whites

http://www.amazon.com/Blue-Meridian-Search-Classic-Penguin/dp/0140265139/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242678598&sr=1-1

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What?

The peaceful resort town of Amity, Massachusetts has always depended upon its thriving summer tourist trade to get it through the lean winter months ahead. But when a swimmer is killed by a great white shark, Sheriff Brody faces great opposition when he proposes to close the beaches, right before the 4th of July holiday weekend…

Where?

The Prince Charles in London.

With?

Buddies and a ton of shark fans!

Why?

Errrr…because it’s the greatest movie ever made? Because it’s the reason I love film as much as I do? Because I was too young (or not born) to see it on the big screen?

Pick any of those, they’re all correct.

Worth It?

Stupid question, of course it was worth it! It is THE blockbuster, with THE scene and THE ending that frankly, every movie pails in significance when compared to this 1975 classic.

Over my life, my top 5 favourite films have changed as I’ve gotten older and my taste has become more varied and, dare I say, defined, But Jaws has always been number one, and will more than likely always be number one.

So, to the future, when one day I will see this masterpiece at Martha’s Vineyard. Until then, here’s to swimming with bow-legged women…

10/10

"Capt. Quint" was on the USS Indianapolis; In this scene from Jaws he concludes his story with "anyway, we delivered the bomb."

On This Date in History: On July 29,  1945, the USS Indianapolis was sunk by a Japanese submarine. The cruiser was returning from Tinian Island where it had secretly delivered the atomic bomb. Because it was a secret mission, details of its schedule were shrouded. So much so that its late arrival went unnoticed. The Americans had intercepted a message from the sub describing the ship they had sunk. The Americans just assumed it was a boast and didn’t follow up. If you remember Jaws then you know the story as told by Captain Quint, who said he was a crew member of the doomed ship. Nearly 1200 men were on the ship.

Captain McVay

About 400 died from the torpedo blast. Some 900 men went into the water but only 318 were rescued. No one showed up for a rescue for 84 hours in during that time nearly 500 men were devoured by sharks. Quint said he’d never wear a life jacket again. The Captain of the Indianapolis, Charles B McVay III, never sailed again and on this date in 1945  he became the only officer in US naval history to be court-martialed for losing a ship in war time. McVay committed suicide in 1968 and many speculate he took his own life due to guilt.   His father had been a Rear Admiral in the US Navy and that most likely just added to his grief.  But, during the Clinton Administration, Captain McVay was exonerated from fault by Congress in October 2000.   In spite of the Congressional official exoneration, the US Navy records still indicate the Captain Charles McVay was found guilty in a Court-Martial for losing the USS Indianapolis while he was in command.

Here is a link to a message board regarding Captain Charles B. McVay.

Weather Bottom Line:  It’s going to stay chilly over the weekend.  Our average high this time of year is around 49 and Saturday and Sunday we will have highs somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 degrees below that.  On Monday, another system drops down that may bring a rain snow mix or some insignificant snow.  What I am more interested in resides later in the week.  By Wednesday or Thursday, another system drops down and moves through.  The GFS was advertising about a half inch of snow.  It’s interesting because the GFS is the model that got the snow right today for Houston.  The NAM was claiming it would be dry.  The TV stations haven’t caught on to this feature yet as they too say rain…but I think that it holds some promise…but its 5 days away so we’ll see how it unfolds.  Needless to say…we ain’t warmin’ up any time soon.  We’ve shifted out of that November pattern that brought us one of the few warmer than average months in 2009.

A TOWN CALLED HELL( alternately, A TOWN CALLED BASTARD) seemed like a good bet when I picked it out to watch. It had a stellar Hollywood cast with Telly Savalas, Robert Shaw, Martin Landau, and Stella Stevens in the main roles. Filmed in Spain and released in 1971, it didn’t seem like it could miss.

But watching, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was watching different movies cobbled together. It jumped around a lot with clumsy changes of time.

The movie opens in 1895 Mexico. A peasant revolution is going on led by Robert Shaw and Martin Landau. They raid a garrison in a small town, shooting up the army and a church there with some sort of service going on. They slaughter the congregation and the priest.

Then the movie jumps ten years and the same little town is run by a man named Don Carlos(Telly Savalas). The priest is Robert Shaw(no reason is ever told for this change). A widow(Stella Stevens) arrives there wanting to visit her husband’s grave. She has a hearse driven by a deaf mute servant and sleeps in the back in a coffin(no explanation for this is ever given). She’s also offering $10,000 when the body of her husband’s killer, a man known only as Aguila, is delivered to her in the States. No, she explains, she doesn’t carry that amount around with her.

Don Carlos has already been established as loving money from an early incident. He gets the idea that if she will pay that amount for the dead, how much will she pay for her life?

Here’s where the movie takes an incomprehensible turn. Savalas’ character has already set up in perfect villain mode. When he attempts to grab her, she and the servant take refuge in Shaw’s church, who refuses to hand them over. In the battle that follows, one of Savalas’ men turns on him, shooting him and stringing him up on a cross, offering him to the priest as he seems to dies. We’re not sure, though he’s never seen again.

Here comes another strange twist. The army rides in at that moment led by the Colonel, Martin Landau, now part of the army. He’s looking for a revolutionary named Aguila. Delighted at first to see his old comrade, he offers him a position as an officer and seems less than pleased to be refused. Shaw prefers to remain a priest.

Landau is as much a sadist as Savalas was and threatens to torture the information from his old partner, only to realize he’d never tell. Then he demands of the town that Aguila be handed over, hanging five of the townspeople and promising to do the same every morning until Aguila is found.

The rest of the film is awkwardly handled. There is a flashback sequence badly done(we’re not even sure for a while) that shows Shaw in a third identity. He’s dressed like a gunfighter down to low slung pistol, chasing a man that had been sent to the States to buy weapons and ammunition, only to blow it on liquor and whores.

Finally, out of nowhere, a battle breaks out between the villagers and the army with Shaw and Landau setting it out in the church and betting on the outcome. The ultimate identity of Aguila and his fate I won’t mention in case anyone wants to find this one and watch.

I can’t recommend it.

Jaws, 1975 – Direção: Steven Spielberg – Elenco:Roy Scheider,Robert Shaw,Richard Dreyfuss.

Um dos melhores filmes de um dos diretores mais famosos e mais queridos de todos os tempos.

Tubarão, pra começar tudo é o filme mais “toma na cara e vira macho” de Spielberg, talvez o único. Mesmo com toda a questão da família e tudo mais, aqui o velhinho simpático não nos obriga a chorar ou ficar tristes ou receosos, ele apenas faz o filme pela gratificação de fazê-lo, nada mais.

A história é bem simples e brusca, se pegarmos que depois dos créditos iniciais vemos uma moça morrer puxada pra baixo da água por alguma “coisa” enquanto um bêbado na encosta, que não sabe nem se está na praia ou em Las Vegas, não a escuta. Depois descobrimos pelos restos destroçados da moça que ela foi atacada por um tubarão dos mais enormes. Daí começa toda a bagaça.

O chefe de policia tem que tomar uma providência quanto a isso certo? Então decide fechar a praia, nada mais lógico. Mas o interessante é ver que o capitalismo decorrente do nosso mundo esta presente ali criticado pelos realizadores da película. Eles jogam como Raimi jogou recentemente em Drag me to hell toda a culpa dos acontecimentos seguintes na ambição exagerada dos personagens em querer mais grana. O prefeito rejeita o pedido do chefe de policia e não deixe que este feche a praia. Até porque, a cidade é uma cidade turística de verão que ganha dinheiro com os turistas que vão pra lá no verão. E fechar a praia é uma loucura mesmo, é melhor algumas pessoas morrerem comidas por um animal enorme do que a cidade perder um ano de dinheiro.

Spilba (vou chamá-lo assim ta, porque só o chamo assim) cria um dos maiores climões de suspense do cinema aqui, e tudo com um grande “nada” aparecendo nas cenas e amedrontando qualquer um. Sim, um nada. O nosso tubarão só vai aparecer realmente lá pra parte final do filme (final mesmo). Fora isso, Spilba cria uma atmosfera de medo e pânico poucas vezes alcançada depois disso. Na época as pessoas ficaram com medo de ir a praias por causa do filme.

Os atores estão arregaçando tudo e é legal comentar um momento de qual não me lembrava (ou talvez a sessão da tarde tenha cortado) no qual, o nosso chefe de policia querido está acabado diante da mesa do jantar e o clima é pesado de mais e nós sentimos toda a culpa que ele sente (afinal, foi esbofeteado na frente de quase toda a cidade por uma mãe que perdeu o filho mesmo com o chefe sabendo). E mesmo assim, mesmo nesse momento cru e triste, o filho mais novo do chefe o imita, sim cada gesto, o que torna a cena ainda mais clássica e honesta. O jovenzinho é todo o símbolo de que Spilba sempre buscou em seu cinema: família. Sim, e apenas com gestos imitando seu pai o jovenzinho consegue transmitir tanto que nem eu aguentei ver a cena toda sem parar um pouco. Carga dramática e humorada ao mesmo tempo transcendendo o normal em um dos primeiros filmes do cara foi foda.

A cenas eternas de mais, desde a primeira morte, passando pelos ataques do tubarão, pela apresentação do Quint, vindo pelas cenas de aventura no barco até chegar na morte clássica e eterna do tubarão com um tremendo “smile, you sun of…”(“sorria, seu filho da…”), seguido da explosão do protagonista.

É folks, o protagonista é o tubarão, querendo ou não.

Mas o filme é tudo o que todos os fãs dizem mesmo, e eu sou um deles, portanto, vão e vejam se é que ainda há alguém vivo que nõ tenha visto. A única coisa ruim foi não ver com a dublagem clássica da sessão da tarde. Se tivesse ela no dvd eu nem fazia questão de ver legendado, sério, traria uma nostalgia da porra. Mas como foi redublado para quem não curte ver legendado e é besta por isso, no dvd não tem mais a versão da sessão da tarde.

Filme foda, um dos melhores do Spilba junto com Jurassic Park e Indiana Jones, e que tem um dos enredos mais fantásticos que já vi. Comentar também sobre a trilha sacana de John Wlliams que com apenas duas notas crescentes faz meu coração vibrar de tensão até hoje. Pois é, da fotografia aos enquadramentos inteligentes e surpreendentes (me espanto com algumas angulações que Spilba filmou no barco) à trilha sonora o filme se dá bem em tudo, inclusive no fazer divertir e ter medo, que é seu maior objetivo, ainda mais sendo o primeiro grande blockbuster que os EUA já viram em seu verão.

5/5

Losey tem um cinema muito peculiar, e neste filme transparece ter total controle sobre sua mise-en-scène e suas personagens, além de demonstrar segurança em arriscar movimentos de câmeras e enquadramentos. Sem contar que as situações que joga na tela, na melhor esquematização, são inteligentes e intrigantes demais. Somos simplesmente sedentos aos resultados, num jogo sobre a sociabilidade e a vida. Esta é daquelas obras-primas que, ao seu término, é impossível não sair gritando para sua vizinhança inteira como Joseph Losey é um gênio.

The British Film Institute is a treasure trove of material for anyone interested in the history of cinema, and much of it is now online. Check out, for instance, its page on Michael Anderson’s classic film, and you will find links to stills, other stuff about the cast and crew, and a wonderful, slightly sniffy, contemporary review from the BFI’s own Monthly Film Bulletin, which ends:

The film is over-long (the flying sequences include some repetition) and the music score is, regrettably, very blatant; but despite these drawbacks, a mood of sober respect is maintained.

Little did the reviewer know how popular the ‘blatant’ musical score would become.

My favourite piece of Dam Busters trivia derives from the scene shown above, showing on the left the great Robert Shaw, later to star in no less a movie than Jaws, where he ends up meeting a spectacularly gory end. Here he plays flight engineer Sergeant John Pulford, which means he gets to sit alongside Richard Todd, playing Guy Gibson, for a large section of the film but has very few words to say. Their on-screen interaction is thought to be a pretty accurate reflection of the real life relationship between Pulford and Gibson.

Robert Shaw, the incomparable American conductor, said, “To create a smooth legato line, sing vowels only until the vowels align with the beat. Then add the consonants back in “on top” of the vowel line“.

This is a very short way of stating my earlier blog on unison vowel production and legato line; but if short and sweet works better for you, then I am happy to include his words.  I do tend to belabor a point, I have been told….

Anyway, you can hear the success of using this technique in the Robert Shaw Chorale rendition of  “Shenandoah”.  I cannot think of a lovelier example of legato singing.

Aunque ha participado en unos cuantos proyectos más desde entonces, es Venus, de Roger Michell (2006), la última ocasión en que Peter O’Toole, actor de amplia y muy irregular filmografía (nos quedamos con lo mejor, Lawrence de Arabia, Becket, Lord Jim, La noche de los generales, El león en invierno, Adiós Mr. Chips o El último emperador), nos ha obsequiado una vez más con una interpretación memorable encarnando de nuevo a un personaje carismático y atormentado al estilo de los que le han dado fama y reconocimiento pero con tintes mucho más amables que de costumbre, gracias al cual obtuvo una nominación al Oscar. Esta vez da vida a Maurice, un actor en los últimos momentos de su carrera que todavía realiza pequeños papeles televisivos y cuyos momentos de ocio transcurren en compañía de sus camaradas Ian (Leslie Philips) y Donald (Richard Griffiths), actores jubilados como él. Los tres se reúnen diariamente en un bar para hablar del pasado y del presente, chincharse, lanzarse dardos irónicos y tomar una copa en un ambiente de camaradería y recuerdos. Al menos es así hasta que Ian manifiesta su preocupación por la llegada de Jessie (Jodie Whittaker), la hija adolescente de su sobrina, que viaja a Londres para atenderlo como enfermera las veinticuatro horas por la falta de alicientes y de posibilidades laborales en el campo. La chica modosita, tímida y apocada amante de la vida tranquila y de la música de Bach que él espera es una joven muy distinta, devota de la comida basura, sin experiencia como enfermera y con un gusto por las bebidas alcohólicas impropio para su edad.

Curiosamente, y utilizando como metáfora de su relación la historia que rodea la pintura de Velázquez La Venus del espejo, será Maurice y no Ian quien conecte más fácilmente con la recién llegada, de manera que las cada vez más horas que comparten y que sirven a Ian para escapar de la perniciosa, para él, influencia de la joven, les ayudan a establecer un extraño vínculo que se mueve en el fino límite de la amistad, la relación paterno-filial, el nacimiento a la vida adulta, el último aliento de deseo carnal de un anciano, la necesidad de paliar sus respectivas soledades y, sí, también el amor, extraño, entre crepuscular, ingenuo y morboso, pero amor. Así, Jessie se abrirá a un mundo que desconoce (los teatros, los museos, las tiendas caras de la City) y Maurice sentirá nostalgia por un tiempo que ya hace mucho que pasó, volviendo a sentirse joven al internarse con una chica joven en la vida nocturna de Londres; sólo su trabajo y su mujer (Vanessa Redgrave), con la que ya no vive pero con la que sigue manteniendo el trato, pone un punto de sensatez en su vida.

La película está construida a la medida de O’Toole, existe por y para él. Tras más de veinte años en papeles menores o secundarios, incluso en producciones mediocres y malas, vuelve por todo lo alto para dar una lección de lo que significa interpretar, manejando su espléndida voz y su todavía mejor dicción a capricho (se recomienda encarecidamente más que nunca la versión original), y haciendo de su rostro un mapa de emociones. Consigue dotar a su personaje de una fuerza difícilmente igualable, quizá porque en cierto modo se interpreta a sí mismo y cede al personaje de Maurice buena parte de su propio bagaje para componer ese actor prácticamente acabado que lucha por ofrecer la mayor de las dignidades al menos una última vez, tanto en su carrera como en su vida personal.

Como complemento, un guión acertadísimo, tanto en los aspectos más dramáticos como con los toques de humor y sarcasmo, incluyendo fragmentos y réplicas desternillantes que explotan las manías, rarezas de los ancianos, y también sus carencias y remilgos a la hora de adaptarse a los nuevos tiempos, en el que la mayor virtud consiste en tratar temas espinosos, o que en otras manos daría lugar a aspectos morbosos, con elegancia y tacto, consiguiendo salir más que airoso. Con alguna que otra debilidad en el aspecto visual, predomina en la película la atención al texto del guión y a la caracterización de los personajes sobre cuestiones como el diseño de producción y la ambientación.

Bordeando, sin pringarse, aguas pantanosas como el morbo, saliendo indemne de los peligros del sentimentalismo o de la lágrima recurrente, la película es un acertado ejercicio de equilibrio entre drama y comedia en la que la ironía somardas y algunos momentos descacharrantes se alternan con una emotividad que en ningún caso es fácil ni gratuita, que conmueve sin apelar a lugares comunes o tópicos sentimentales, y cuya mayor expresión tiene lugar cuando Ian y Maurice visitan en una iglesia londinense, con nostalgia contenida, las lápidas de algunos de los más célebres actores británicos de todos los tiempos y se detienen ante los nombres de Boris Karloff, Laurence Harvey o Robert Shaw. Un homenaje más que merecido a la vida y obra de tantos actores y actrices que nos han hecho un regalo inmejorable: la oportunidad de disfrutarlos para siempre en la pantalla.

Steven Spielberg made Jaws when he was in his mid-twenties and, in my opinion, he’s never eclipsed the raw tension and terror since. The movie also started the trend of the summer blockbuster, some say, and is considered one of the best films of all time by the AFI. It is truly a picture that works its elements efficiently, utilizing a haunting John Williams score and Bill Butler’s tremendous sea level cinematography to tell its tale to great effect.

Based on Peter Benchley’s novel of the same name, Jaws became Spielberg’s fifth motion picture and marked a turning point in his early career by transforming him into one of America’s greatest thriller/adventure storyteller filmmakers. From the success of Jaws, Spielberg was able to seamlessly transition to the ambitious Close Encounters of the Third Kind and eventually to Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Jaws takes place at the small resort town of Amity Island. There’s a new police chief, Martin Brody (Roy Schneider), and he is notified that a woman is missing. Upon discovering the body, it appears that she had been attacked by a shark. Not wanting to scare the locals or thwart any success for the upcoming tourist season, Amity’s mayor (Murray Hamilton) ensures that Brody can’t close the beach while they look for the shark.

After another attack, the town grows tense and Brody is blamed for not closing the beach. He calls ichthyologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) to help investigate the shark problem. The pair form a close bond while battling the stubborn mayor and the shark, eventually turning to Quint (Robert Shaw), a gruff shark hunter, to help bring in the giant beast before it does further harm.

The performances in Jaws are surprisingly good, especially for this type of genre picture, and they help elevate the movie to its legendary status. The chemistry between Dreyfuss, Shaw and Schneider as the film draws to its climax is especially compelling, as the differences between the characters really get drawn out with subtle shifts in the action. Each man has his method for catching the shark based on his life experience and it’s interesting to watch them go about their work.

Jaws required three mechanical sharks to be made for production. In today’s day and age of CGI, the shark does look a little dated in some scenes, but there’s also something truly cool about how the whole thing came together. Spielberg’s direction makes the shark, strange as it looks sometimes, into a truly menacing force in the picture and it becomes more about the tension and less about what the shark looks like.

Of course, we can’t talk about Jaws without talking about the great John Williams score. Everyone knows the eerie suggestive music when the shark is approaching, as it has become among the most famous few notes in film score history. But Williams also does remarkably well when he’s fleshing out the movie’s smaller moments and driving some of the characters into heroism (or stupidity). It really is one of the greatest scores in the movies and helps drive this picture into greatness.

Spielberg really shows his stuff handling the whole project, as it was a stormy one from the first day. Shooting on water is no easy task, especially with the constant threat of movement, so Jaws stands as a testimony to the stick-to-itiveness and moxie of the director in his younger days. Whenever I need to remember how great Spielberg can truly be when he’s telling pure stories and using natural tension to go places, Jaws is the movie I reach for.

9.2/10

Trailer:

So….once your vowels are unified, it’s definitely time to move on to consonants…..

A reader left an excellent comment: 

 ”Dear Michelle,
I have some issues with how to pronounce final consonants, because I learn different things from language/speech teachers than in music. For example, in speech/language sessions, I was taught not to dentalize or aspirate “d” or “t” endings, but it seems that this is what is taught in music.
As I am not a professional musician, I realize I may be missing something. Can you help out? Thanks.”

The way you articulate in vocal music is definitely different than you would in speech; it’s  as if you must be fluid in two different languages.  In making music, I strongly advocate putting a “shadow vowel” after an explosive consonant (like a D or a T).  Robert Shaw said “Two consonants in succession (p/l, d/b, t/f, etc.) require a neutral “uh” vowel to be rhythmically inserted between them. Two words, one ending in a consonant and the next beginning with one, frequently require this neutral vowel (or “schwa,” or “shadow vowel”) for clarity of articulation“

I would further recommend having your choir put this “shadow vowel” on an explosive consonant (D, T, P, etc) that happens at the end of a phrase:  In his treatment for choral singing , ” The Chorale Singers Cheat Sheet” , Sean Boulware says, “Explode consonants, don’t implode them. Audiences may love us for our vowels, but they respect (and pay) us for our consonants.”  You must have your choir execute “shadow vowels” so that the text is clearly understood by the audience.  Now, if the ”schwa” is just too much, either have the choir as a whole back off a little bit, or just cut back on the number of choir members who are to perform the “shadow vowel“.  Remember, you want to have enough so the choir is easily understood, but not so much that you turn off your listeners! 

It’s a bit like “terrace dynamics“:  even though that means to go from one dynamic level to another (piano to forte)  with no graduations of volume (no diminuendos or crescendos), this was often accomplished in the Baroque era by suddenly eliminating instruments to achieve a quiter sound until it was time to play more loudly again.

Data
Title: The Sting
Year: 1973
Length: 129 minutes
Director: George Roy Hill
Writer: David S. Ward
Starring: Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Robert Shaw, Charles Durning
Music: Scott Joplin, adapted by Marvin Hamlisch
Distinctions: Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Story and Screenplay Based on Factual Material, Best Song Score and/or Adaptation, Best Art Direction/Set Decoration, Best Costume Design, and Best Editing; currently #98 on IMDb’s Top 250

My reaction
Synopsis: con men vs. the mob
How I saw it: on video (rented from Netflix), yesterday
Concept: Great.
Story: Good. Enough twists to keep the movie from being tedious. Although, the whole con-man story type doesn’t really work well when it’s an army of professionals with seemingly unlimited resources against more or less one guy.
Characters: Bad. I don’t feel I know anything about the personalities of either of the leads.
Dialog: Good.
Pacing: Bad. I can’t believe this was only two hours long. It felt more like a mini series than a movie.
Cinematography: Indifferent.
Special effects/design: Indifferent. If this is supposed to be the 1930’s, then why do all of these 1930’s buildings look 50 years old?
Acting: Good. Redford and Newman are both kind of dull, especially Redford, but the supporting cast is nice.
Music: Good. I don’t understand why they used distinctly period music for a film set in a different period, but it sets a tone and it’s good music.
Subjective Rating: 6/10 (Okay). It made me restless, and it’s very flawed, but it’s not a bad movie. It has its moments.
Objective Rating: 6/10 2.4/4 (Okay).

The Birthday Party (William Friedkin, 1968)

From the Losey trilogy onwards Harold Pinter’s custom-made screenplays are, of course, cornerstones of cinema. But there are also the film adaptations of his theatrical works, which are by necessity geared more towards the specialist. Losey’s biographer suggested that JL never took on a Pinter play because it would have been an “away fixture”, and certainly the plays, magnificent though they are, are also hampered by what they are.

They’re written for the stage, action almost entirely constrained to one room, with opportunities to “open out” the play severely limited; unless you want to rewrite the play, which would rather defeat the original point. There’s this one, the second feature from the man who shortly afterwards directed The Exorcist and The French Connection; there’s the equally low-budget versions of The Caretaker and The Homecoming by Clive Donner and Peter Hall; there’s a rarer-still film of Betrayal with Jeremy Irons (I think).

The Birthday Party is very early Pinter. These days his mid-to-late period, from Old Times onwards, strikes me as more sophisticated but the early “comedies of menace” were the ones that blasted a hole in the ceiling of theatre. This play is rich, mysterious, affecting and infused with a language that dazzles.

If you can get past the idea that it’s Filmed Theatre rather than full cinema, this version is actually rather stylised and quite cinematic. The opening titles are shown to the driver’s view of a Rolls Royce gliding silently through the ghost town that is Worthing on a 60s Sunday morning, scenes are broken up with panoramic views of the pier and pathos-addled shots of Petey tending to his deckchairs. Once the action’s taking place in Pinter’s Room, composition, lighting and camera angles are set out in a fairly interesting way too.

Our set up is that the stoic Petey and the warm-hearted but simple Meg are ostensibly running a shabby boarding house. Stanley (Robert Shaw) appears to have been hiding out with them for some months and a girl called Lulu (rent-a-dollybird Helen Fraser from Billy Liar and Repulsion) sometimes pops round, though most of her scenes have been cut. A suave London Jew and an Irishman, Goldberg and McCann, come to the house. They interrogate Stanley, provoking a nervous breakdown, then take him away.

After the titles, we find ourselves in Meg’s filthy kitchen. As she hums to herself, the cornflake box is aimed at the bowl and most of them go over the table; an early indicator that she’s not all there. Petey comes home and for the first few lines of trite dialogue the faces are off camera, emphasising that their conversation is not a form of communication but a barrier to it. When we first see Meg’s face, the camera is in the living room and peering through the serving hatch. People are boxed in, confined.

Petey reads his paper, they chit-chat, the camera steers around the fried bread as if it’s likely to bite. When Meg ventures upstairs to see Stanley, the camera zooms out from a detail of the wallpaper. We rejoin Petey as clatter and laughters drifts down from upstairs. Robert Shaw gives Stanley his trademark rasp and air of dormant aggression. His clothes are filthy and he looks a little like Céline.

As Stanley eats his breakfast, he teases Meg and there seems to be a sexual undertone to all their interactions- she tickles him whilst trying to get a cigarette. He steps outside to smoke, but a plane overheard drives him back inside. It’s clear that the boarding house is a hideout for him when news of two newcomers makes him so agitated (“They won’t come, it’s a false alarm”). The big monologue about his past as a concert pianist is played without tricks; just a slow, gradual zoom into Shaw’s face as it leans on his hand.

The worldly Lulu and her Sandie Shaw bob make a brief appearance from the outside world, opening the window and curtains before declaring Stanley a “washout”. He flees through the back door at the arrival of Goldberg (Sydney Tafler) and McCann (Pinter/Losey favourite Patrick Magee).

McCann is sombre and pessimistic, always peering fearfully at the backyard and disgusting kitchen, whilst Goldberg has an air of relaxed authority in his grey tailored suit. He’s got the gift of the gab and his voice has a musical, yiddish twang (“Whadda lahvly flighta stairs”). Meg is enchanted. When the pair have popped out she gives Stanley his toy drum, and as his tension boils over the first act ends with his primal-scream banging.

Cut to McCann in the front room, tearing his newspaper into strips. It’s done with enervating slowness and the noise is heavily amplified. Stanley comes downstairs and tries to impose himself. McCann does not react until he declares his intention to leave, which causes a bit of brinkmaship. Why don’t you stay in? We’re having a party in your honour. Stanley now tries to establish his credentials as a harmless, obedient recluse, before pleading and making desperate attempts to ingratiate himself (“I know Ireland. The people have a wonderful sense of humour”). McCann’s poker face doesn’t flinch. Petey tells them he’ll miss the party as he has a chess match- more of a life of the mind than his wife.

Enter Goldberg. As he sits and delivers a monologue, the camera slowly circles him to reinforce that air of authority. He speaks with eloquence but there’s something not quite right about it; as he tells us about a bygone romance with a Sunday school teacher, we hear that “walking home, I’d tip my hat to the toddlers, give a hand to a couple of stray dogs”. Stanley tries the aggression with Goldberg too, refusing to shake his hand and posing as defender of Petey and Meg (“They’ve lost their sense of smell. I haven’t”).

Goldberg and McCann spring into action, coercing Stanley to sit down. The interrogation is shot with quirky angles, the two men standing either side of Stanley. From a top corner of the room, the camera will swoop down and around the armchair before zooming back out. There are rapid cuts between the three men. Once Goldberg and McCann manage to build up a rhythm, their speech flows like music. When they take Stanley’s glasses we see his POV, fumbling through a blurred field of vision until he falls. The interrogation seems largely concerned with sex, religion and guilt, culminating in a refrain of “Why did the chicken cross the road?” (sounds daft, but as a whole the piece is very poetic with plenty of word association and its own internal logic).

Stanley reaches his breaking point just about now. He screams and we see the interrogators’ faces before the camera, looking like the reflection in a spoon. There are jump cuts and weird angles aplenty as the three fight, brandishing chairs. It’s interrupted by Meg arriving in a red party frock, which has Goldberg gurgling with laughter. Meg is asked to deliver a toast, and McCann to shine a torch on birthday boy Stanley. Photography turns an oddly psychedelic sepia as the lights go out. Told to “say what you feel”, Meg ends up crying and not noticing that Stanley is still reeling.

Lulu arrives at the party. Goldberg does some more oratory and she clearly fancies him (“You’re empty, let me fill you up”). We zoom back from those two to see McCann vigilantly topping up Stanley’s whisky. Everyone focuses on getting drunk, there are lots of intrusive close-ups on perspiring faces, snatches of multiple conversations and it’s all mildly hallucinogenic. Lulu and Goldberg start snogging on an armchair whilst Meg and McCann talk at cross purposes.

“Have you ever been to Carrickmacross?”

“I’ve been to King’s Cross.”

Now in high spirits, the ladies decide that they would like to play a parlour game and someone suggests Blind Man’s Buff- perfect for the purposes of Goldberg and McCann. Meg is first to wear the blind- a soundtrack of heavy breathing and she caresses McCann before the blind is lifted “Oh, it’s you”. McCann’s POV next as he takes the blind and trashes the room. His hands grope, his arms flail, the camera jerks all over the place. The breathing is quite canine until he finally catches Stanley.

When Stanley becomes “it” we see a bird’s eye view of the room, Goldberg orchestrating the others’ movements, then the camera is level with the floor as Stanley is tripped up by the drum. McCann breaks his glasses. There’s a sudden blackout, gasps and a scream in the dark. More groovy sepia negatives when McCann finds the torch. It turns on Stanley, his hands around Meg’s throat. He whimpers and moans.

Cut to golden lamps on the pier and that almost still-life shot of deckchairs. Petey has finished his early morning shift and is heading home. The third act is very morning-after, giving the film a symmetrical feel (before/during/after). Meg has a headache and frets over the broken drum. Goldberg gives Petey a diagnosis of Stanley’s breakdown and dissuades him from calling a doctor. McCann comes down from the patient’s room, his sleeves rolled up, muttering that “I’m not going up there again”. He sits to polish his shoes as Goldberg ushers Petey back out to work.

For once it’s Goldberg who is tensed up. When McCann speaks out of turn he lunges at his friend with venom and throttles him. He tries to cheer himself up with more speeches and rhetoric, but it’s as if he’s realising their hollowness for the first time. Try as he might he cannot complete his sentence, “Because I believe that the world…”. It’s Pinter giving the boot, however unsubtly, to any ideologues in this world, anyone pretending that they know the solutions (an attitude we need to hold onto now the PM-in-waiting is telling us that removal of ‘big government’ will make everything perfect).

Goldberg falls back on tradition (“Who came before your father? His father!”) before going weird again and asking McCann to blow into his mouth. When Stanley reappears he is a zombie in a smart suit. This time the pair give him a “nice”, motivational version of the interrogation which appears to be all about religion. This time Stanley is dumb, obedient, and Petey’s climactic call of “Don’t let them tell you what to do!” falls on deaf ears as he is led into the car. The car speeds off into town and the camera swings back to Petey twitching his net curtain; a nice note of ambivalence from the director.

I first read The Birthday Party at the age of 16, loved it and went on to devour all Pinter’s plays- they had a profound influence on me. When I watched this film, I was no longer so sure about his stance. Is living in a starving artist’s shabby pit really so superior to wearing a suit and conforming to tradition? I suppose that the young wouldn’t be doing their jobs if they didn’t scrutinise and challenge everything that was handed down to them.

Anyway this version of The Birthday Party has the limitations of being designed for another medium, but it’s been assembled by Friedkin with not a little skill and in a way that only augments the sense of dread. There are some genial performances (particularly those of Goldberg and McCann) and it’s still far more of a film than something like In the Loop. It deserves to be better known.

Starring: Sean Connery, Daniela Bianchi, Pedro Armendáriz, and Robert Shaw.
Director: Terence Young
Writers: Ian Fleming (story), Richard Maibaum , Johanna Harwood (screenplay),
Runtime: 115 min
Studio: EON
Rated: PG
Official TMM Score: 5 Star Classic

Hello everyone and welcome to the second in my series of reviews covering the James Bond film franchise. When last we left him, our hero was snug as a bug in a rug, in a boat with the lovely Honey Ryder drifting away the hours in the steamy Jamaican seas. All this of course after successfully foiling villainous S.P.E.C.T.R.E agent Dr No’s dastardly scheme for world domination and decimating his entire underground operation to boot. A tough day’s work for anyone no doubt, and one that might require a bit of rest and relaxation afterwards indeed; which is why we’re not surprised to find James at the beginning of this movie sunk down in the bottom of another boat with one Sylvia Trench, yes the same gorgeous Sylvia Trench from the early scenes of Dr. No that Bond was about to copulate with before being sent out to his mission in that particular film. As it will be from this point on, James Bond will leave no stone unturned and no beautiful lady unloved, aside from the always pining and flirtatious Moneypenney that is for some reason. It’s not all fun in the sun though, as soon we learn the diabolical S.P.E.C.T.R.E organisation has already devised a plan to get their revenge on Mr. Bond by exploiting his most prominent weakness… those aforementioned women. And for this mission they have chosen a most desirable Russian beauty in Tatiana Romanova, or as Bond will refer to her, simply ‘Tanya’…

She will also be the unknowing pawn in S.P.E.C.T.R.E’s plot to steal a super sensitive secret stealing cipher encryption device called the ‘Lektor’. She thinks she is on a mission for Mother Russia, but unbeknownst to her, Rosa Klebb, one of her superiors in S.M.E.R.S.H (the old Soviet counter intelligence agency later to be replaced by the KGB) has defected to S.P.E.C.T.R.E and everyone besides a few people in the very top brass are naturally kept in the dark about this highly embarrassing international affair. The mastermind behind the plan is a genius chess player named Kronsteen who answers directly to the chief executive officer of S.P.E.C.T.R.E, one Ernst Stavro Blofeld, known by his code name in the organization simply as ‘Number One’. With a few exceptions Blofeld will be the main source of irritation and consternation for James Bond for the next half dozen or so pictures. It will be a few more films before we are allowed to see his face, so for now we are left with the iconic image later parodied in the Austin Power’s movies, of the mad villain sitting in his padded chair, with his hand slowly running over his fluffy white cat as it purrs ominously into the camera lens

So, to sum up this summary, S.P.E.C.T.R.E sends Tanya down to Istanbul to pose as a defector, offering the British Secret Service the Lektor in exchange for her safe transport to England, and the hand in marriage of one Mr. Bond…. James Bond that is. Along with her S.P.E.C.T.R.E has also sent one of their most promising and talented young recruits, a blond haired Soviet assassin named Red Grant, to find and dispose of James Bond in what Blofeld instructs to be a ‘most unpleasant’ manner. This sets the scene for all the various adventures that are to follow, and once again, after being debriefed by M, the head of S.I.S, and the customary flirting with Moneypenney, Bond will be flown off to Istanbul for an assignment that is right up his alley. All he has to do is find the girl, spend a few days ‘getting to know her’ (wink wink, nudge nudge), grab the Lektor and then he’s home free.

James Bond’s sole allie in this twisting saga of lies and lead will be Kerim Bey, a powerful and influential man with many sons, who resides in Istanbul and serves as the Station Chief of British Intelligence there. Both he and everyone else in this movie believes the set up to be an obvious trap, but as Kronsteen predicted earlier, instead of being scared away, the British, and most importantly, Mr. Bond view this trap as a challenge… and in any event, this Lektor device is far too valuable to let any opportunity to grab it slip through their fingers. So with that all set up now, the questions are, will Bond be able to deliver the Lektor? Will he be able to win over the loyalty of the lovely Ms. Romanova or will she betray him to the Russians or even unknowingly to S.P.E.C.T.R.E? Will Bond be able to handle this vicious new agent assigned to terminate him?

I won’t spoil the details for you, but what I can tell you is that this is without question one of my absolute most beloved Bond films of all time. For starters, the majority of the action takes place in Istanbul, a beautiful location for a Bond film. The bad guys in this film are among the best in the series, from the Ivan Drago like Red Grant, to Rosa Klebb and her infamous shoe-blade contraption, and of course, the infamous Blofeld, a genius villain with so many schemes, plays, and plots to taker over the world that one wonders if he somewhere has a playbook filled with the same kind of notes that a seasoned football coach would possess. Bottom line, this movie is flat out fun from beginning to end. From the Istanbul scenes, to the legendary scenes aboard the passenger train, all the way to the end, you’ll have to fight the smile off your face throughout the whole film.

Along with being a classic among classics, From Russia With Love also marks the movie debut of the beloved character known as ‘Q’… the miserly yet lovable old grandfather figure played incomparably by Desmond Llewelyn to whom Bond is indebted to for all his various gadgets throughout the years, whether they be jacked up cars with machine guns and rocket launchers attached to them, or a wrist watch with a laser beam shooting out of it, for the next thirty years following this film, without exception almost, Q’s gadget scenes would come to be one of the most looked forward to parts of any Bond film. And though Bonds came and went, Q remained the same, a testament to both the actor and the character created for him. And this film gets us off to a flying start, as here Bond is equipped with a really nifty little briefcase, with a collapsible sniper rifle, pop out throwing knife and an exploding gas cartridge in case someone besides him decides to go through his luggage. He will no doubt find a use for all of that later on in the film, as he winds through the ancient underground sections of Istanbul in a wooden boat, or as he winds across Europe in a fast moving passenger train.

I could go on and on and on about all the classic set ups and scenes in this movie, but that would be pointless I’m afraid. The bottom line is this, if you’re only going to see one James Bond film your entire life, make it From Russia With Love… This is the James Bond movie on which all later James Bond movies would be modeled after. I say that because of a quote I’m reminded of by famed Bond producer Michael G. Wilson… who quipped “We always start out trying to make another From Russia with Love and end up with another Thunderball.” Not that there’s anything wrong with Thunderball, but comparing that film to this one is like comparing the Mona Lisa to a splatter painting.

See it for the scores of hot and scantily clad women, see it for the endless series of great action and suspense scenes, but most of all, see it to catch a glimpse of prime vintage Sean Connery, in his absolute devilish Double O’ Seven best, defeating the bad guys, wooing the women, and enjoying his martinis, shaken, not stirred of course.. So please forgive me if this sounds more like a sales pitch than a movie review as it is impossible for me to be objective here. This is one of the very few ‘perfect’ Bond films.

Everything here is as it should be, from the villains, to the actor playing Bond himself, to the Bond girls, the Bond gadgets, you name it, all woven together by a plot full of twists and turns for Bond to weave through. So with all that said, I give it the full five star classic rating and recommendation with no hesitation whatsoever. This is a movie to be treasured and locked away in a safe vault and watched and rewatched until the disc melts away inside your DVD player, I say. Thanks for reading, and though we have a hard one to top from this week, next week may be even better as James Bond returns in the legendary classic film known as ‘Goldfinger’… See you then.

Jules

5) Susan Backlinie in “Lo Squalo” (1975)

Un nome che forse non vi sarà particolarmente familiare, quello della stuntwoman Susan Backlinie, chi sarebbe costei? La prima vittima, nuda, in notturna, del primo capitolo de lo Squalo, ovvio no? L’importanza della Backlinie è testimoniata dalla sua presenza in locandina, mentre nuota tranquilla inconsapevole del terrore che si cela al di sotto di lei: Nessun barbuto Richard Dreyfuss, nessun Roy Scheider o Robert Shaw…. Solo una ragazzetta nuda…

4) Kari Wuhrer in “Anaconda” (1997)

La sua ultima, vana, possibilità di fama mainstream prima di sprofondare nel mare magnum degli show notturni in topless dei canali via cavo Americani. Kari Wuhrer abbandona I sogni di gloria con un’apparizione, al fianco di Jennifer Lopez, Owen Wilson e Ice Cube nel capolavoro “Anaconda.”

La sua scena sexy di morte è una collaborazione artistica con un certo Jon Voight, che la soffoca a morte con una mossa di karate (Tipico dell’agilissimo John!) prima di gettare il suo corpo senza vita nel fiume (Dove vive, placido e beato, l’anaconda del titolo). Dopo quest’apparizione in un capolavoro dedicato ad un serpente gigante, argomento attualissimo e amato dalla critica, la Wuhrer non apparirà mai più sullo schermo con qualcuno più famoso di David Arquette, combattendo la sua battaglia nel mondo degli C-Movies.

3) Salma Hayek in “Dal tramonto all’alba” (1996)

Al contrario dei suoi personaggi successivi, più avvezzi alla parola, come in “Fools Rush In” e “Frida,” Per Salmuccia il ruolo di Santanico Pandemonium in “Dal tramonto all’alba” fu straordinariamente adatto allo scopo:

La Hayek balla in modo seducente in un minuscolo bikini per qualche minuto con un serpente abbarbicato addosso, si trasforma in un vampire e nel giro di pochi secondi riceve una pallottola in faccia da George Clooney, semplice, lineare ed efficace.

2) Sandahl Bergman in “Conan il Barbaro” (1982)

Ripensando fra sè e sè ad un grande classico come “Conan il Barbaro”, in genere si ricordano solo 2 cose: primo, la scena in cui l’attuale governatore della California e la sua compagna statuaria (La Bergman, appunto) fanno a pezzi tutti i partecipanti ad un’interessantissima orgia cannibalistica, avanzando nella stanza a colpi di spada, secondo la scena in cui Valerie mure fra le nerborute braccia di Arnold dopo esser stata colpita a morte da  una freccia-serpente. (Conan è un capolavoro, non ci sono cazzi…)

Ripensando alle logiche cinematografiche non c’era possibilità per lei di sopravvivere dopo essersi mostrata nuda e aver fatto sesso con il protagonista…

P.S. purtroppo la scena tratta da youtube è tagliata prima della triste dipartita della Bergman

1) Janet Leigh in “Psycho” (1960)

Nel 1960 non era cosa commune andare al cinema ed assistere ad un omicidio, da parte di un travestito (Ommioddio! Spoiler!!) di una splendida donna nuda in una doccia. Almeno non fino all’avvento delle Grindhouse e della loro programmazione creativa. Forse non sarà la scena più sexy della storia del cinema, per gli standard dell’epoca e l’impatto sugli spettatori si guadagna senza fatica il primo posto. Seminale.

I thought I had done this review some time ago, but looking back at recent entries, I realized I had meant to, but hadn’t.

The Taking of Pelham one two three has recently been remade.  This caused me to want to go back and watch the original.  I am glad I did. This 1974 movie is better than 90% of the cr*p comming out of Hollywood today.  The movie is well written, well shot with a musical score that just screams mid-70s.  However, what makes the movie is the actors. Walter Matthau, Martin Balsam and the always fantastic Robert Shaw.  There just aren’t many actors like them in Hollywood today.  I am convinced that part of the reason that recent movies rely so much on CGI and explosions is an attempt to fill the screen with what is missing, great actors.

I can’t recommend this movie highly enough.  It is available for watching online on Hulu and they have it at Netflix as well.

I don’t want to talk about forgetting Robert Shaw. First, I want to talk about forgetting.

When I went on a 30 day assignment in Minnesota back in 2001, I carried a little notebook or maybe a folded piece of paper with me. Every time I thought about it, I’d write down points about what had happened that day. I had never been in Minnesota before and I wrote letters to my family, telling them each about my adventure.

I need to start doing that again. In the past week, so many things that could be considered interesting or at least worthy of a mention have happened, but they happen so fast, it’s easy to forget one. So, as a second point of business, let’s talk about Robert Shaw.

I watched The Sting on television last weekend. I think I missed the first ten minutes, but I enjoyed the rest of the movie. Robert Redford and Paul Newman were A-OK, but I certainly need to recognize Robert Shaw. When I read the description, I asked myself, “Who’s Robert Shaw and why is he bllled right below Newman and Redford?” The man himself looked familiar, in the sense of the ethnic Irish character players…big, glossy black hair, mustachioed man who looks like his employment requires actual labor. It wasn’t until I looked at imdb that I’m like, “Ohhh!”. Robert Shaw played Quint in Jaws. Outstanding!

I had the good fortune of singing under the direction of Robert Shaw for a number of years.  One thing he was constantly drilling into the heads of his singers was the importance of rhythm and the inevitable influence it would have on our performance.  While recognized as one of the three main elements of music (the other two being melody and harmony), he seemed to think that rhythm was given far too little attention by many conductors and singers.  Anyone who ever had the privilege to participate in a Shaw rehearsal undoubtedly had the opportunity to experience his “count singing,”  a technique that quickly identifies anyone with rhythmic “issues.” 

In its most recent rehearsal, MOS was reading through Bob Chilcott’s captivating work, A Little Jazz Mass, scheduled for performance at the end of October.   The piece is fun and enjoyable to sing and I think the chorus was doing a very good job (overall).  I was, however, struck by the challenges the rhythm seemed to present to some of our singers.   Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised, for I have noticed in recent years that MOS auditions seem to include an increasing number of rhythmic mistakes in both sight reading and tonal memory exercises.   I think this “rhythmic insecurity” may be more common than I first suspected, and I look forward to concentrating more this year on the joys of rhythm, both in A Little Jazz Mass, and in other pieces as well.

I’d like to know what you readers think about rhythm.  Does it come easily to you or is it indeed a challenge, especially as compared with melody and harmony?   How do you go about working on rhythmic problems?   I know that I personally always try to “internalize” the division of the beat.  That’s especially helpful in “feeling” syncopation, a very important component of jazz.  Anyway, I’m already looking forward to the next couple of rehearsals, where “rhythm” will be treated with the respect it deserves!

“The Indianapolis Speech”

In which shark hunter, and modern day Ahab, Quint (Robert Shaw) recalls what happened when the U.S.S Indianapolis was sunk by a Japanese submarine, just days after delivering critical parts of the atomic bomb. Following a rare moment where Hooper, Quint and Brody each comparing scars share the odd laugh, the mood darkens as it’s revealed that Quint was on the Indianapolis when it went down, and he recalls the full horror.
Three people are credited with writing the speech, John Milius, Howard Sackler and Robert Shaw, each adding a little more. The screenwriter himself, John Gottlieb gives most of the credit to Shaw. Beautifully delivered.

Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, chief. It was comin’ back, from the island of Tinian Delady, just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn’t see the first shark for about a half an hour. Tiger. Thirteen footer. You know, you know that when you’re in the water, chief? You tell by lookin’ from the dorsal to the tail. Well, we didn’t know. `Cause our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. Huh huh. They didn’t even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, chief. The sharks come cruisin’. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it’s… kinda like `ol squares in battle like a, you see on a calendar, like the battle of Waterloo. And the idea was, the shark would go for nearest man and then he’d start poundin’ and hollerin’ and screamin’ and sometimes the shark would go away. Sometimes he wouldn’t go away. Sometimes that shark, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a shark, he’s got…lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll’s eye. When he comes at ya, doesn’t seem to be livin’. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin’ and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin’ and the hollerin’ they all come in and rip you to pieces.
Y’know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men! I don’t know how many sharks, maybe a thousand! I don’t know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin’ chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player, boson’s mate. I thought he was asleep, reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up and down in the water, just like a kinda top. Up ended. Well… he’d been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us, he swung in low and he saw us. He’d a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper, anyway he saw us and come in low. And three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened? Waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks ttook the rest, June the 29, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.”

Den lilla amerikanska kuststaden får oväntat och oönskat besök av en stor människoätande haj i Steven Spielbergs klassiska sjuttiotalsskräckfilm. Sheriffen (Roy Scheider) slits mellan pressen från ortens turismnäring och bättre vetande och får också hjälp i jakten på haj av marinbiologen spelad av Richard Dreyfuss och den råbarkade fiskaren i Robert Shaws skepnad.

Detta är och förblir en av tidernas mest klassiska filmer med en fantastiskt musikaliskt tema av John Williams som är lika starkt förknippat med filmen nu som då. Jag kommer ihåg att jag såg den här filmen som rätt liten knådd och att jag efter detta hade en sjuhelsikes respekt för vatten då man var ute på älven med ekan. Scenerna då hajen plockar tjejen i inledningen samt kalasar på pojken Kintner på sin badmadrass är obehagliga än idag. Att själva hajen ser rätt mekanisk ut spelar i sammanhanget ingen större roll då spänningen så skickligt byggs upp och scenerna är så snyggt klippta med skådespelare som är så klippt och skurna för rollerna. Flera har inte spelat med i någonting vare sig före eller efter Hajen och att använda sig av “riktigt folk” är i detta sammanhang ett smart drag för att förstärka det otäcka och den snudd på dokumentära känslan. Tänker exempelvis på konfrontationen mellan Scheider och mamman vars barn fallit offer för hajen efter att scheriffen negligerat de varningar som givits. Mästerlig film som verkligen håller måttet trots alla år som gått och alla mer eller mindre bedrövliga uppföljare som dykt upp sedan dess.

Betyg: 5

Title: Jaws
Year: 1975
Director: Steven Spielberg
Writers: Peter Benchley & Carl Gottlieb, based on the novel by Benchley
Starring: Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, Richard Dreyfuss
Music: John Williams
Distinctions: Oscars for Best Score, Best Editing and Best Sound; currently #108 on IMDb’s Top 250
Length: 124 minutes
Synopsis: Giant man-eating shark.  Boo!
How I saw it: on video (rented from Netflix), yesterday
Subjective Rating: 8/10 (Great)
Objective Rating: 8/10 (points off for concept and story) c. 3.2/4 (Very good)

I was quite surprised by this one. Suspenseful, and pretty scary as far as monster movies go. But what really surprised me is that it’s also got strong characters, good dialog, and good acting, expertly filmed. They managed to do without the usually-obligatory waiting around to get to the action part(s) that this sort of story typically has.  Everything in the movie is engaging, regardless of whether the shark is around. And when it is around, it’s pretty crazy fun what they do with it.

Titolo originale: The Taking of Pelham 123

Regia: Tony Scott

Cast: Denzel Washington, John Travolta, John Turturro, Luis Guzmàn, Michael Rispoli, James Gandolfini,J. Bernard Calloway, Alex Kaluzhsky, John Benjamin Hickey, Sean Meehan, Teddy Valdes, Victor Gojcaj, Gbenga Akinnagbe, Jason Butler Harner, Jake Richard Siciliano.

Distribuzione: Sony Pictures, USA, GB, 2009

Guarda il trailer

Walter Garber (Denzel Washington)  è un dirigente della metropolitana di New York, declassato per illecito e impiegato allo smistamento dei treni sulla linea di Lexington Avenue. In attesa di giudizio, una mattina resta coinvolto suo malgrado nel dirottamento di un treno partito da Pelham Bay, il Pelham 123. I dirottatori sono guidati da “Ryder” (John Travolta) che prende in ostaggio i passeggeri e minaccia di ucciderli se non gli verranno consegnati in un’ ora 10 milioni di dollari. Walter diventa così suo malgrado negoziatore della trattativa. La vita degli ostaggi dipenderà anche da lui…

Questa avvincente pellicola firmata Tony Scott è il rifacimento del film Il colpo della metropolitana- Un ostaggio al minuto  (1974),  da Joseph Sargent ed interpretato da Walter Matthau nel ruolo del negoziatore e da Robert Shaw nel ruolo del dirottatore,  e ha come soggetto il romanzo di John Godey (pseudonimo di Morton Freedgood)  dal titolo “Il colpo della metropolitana“  (1973).

Il film inizia con un normale viaggio in metropolitana degli ignari passeggeri e con Walter Garber, dirigente della metropolitana di New York, che per la seconda settimana consecutiva si ritrova a svolgere il suo lavoro “punitivo” e declassato di addetto al controllo e allo smistamento dei treni. All’improvviso una normale giornata di lavoro si trasforma in un inferno: uno dei treni della metropolitana, il Pelham 123, viene dirottato e Walter si ritrova per caso ad essere il primo a parlare con il capo dei dirottatori, Ryder, e a creare una sorta di contatto con lui, tanto che rifiuterà di parlare con le autorità e con le forze dell’ordine. Walter diventa così il suo “broker“, la persona che curerà l’arrivo dei 10 milioni di dollari richiesti al sindaco di New York (John Gandolfini), in cambio della vita degli ostaggi. Egli minaccia di uccidere un ostaggio per ogni minuto di ritardo sull’ora che ha concesso per avere il denaro. Garber con l’aiuto dell’ispettore Camoletti (John Turturro) esperto di negoziazioni, inizia a dialogare con Ryder, cerca di prendere tempo e di limitare il numero di perdite umane.

Denzel Washington, alla sua quarta collaborazione con Tony Scott dopo Allarme rosso, Man on fire e Déjà vu, è  sempre più action man ed è la perfetta controparte del villain John Travolta, davvero spietato, crudele e perfetto nel ruolo. Inoltre i due sono in ottima compagnia con John Turturro, e John Gandolfini, grande attore nonché  per anni interprete del boss Tony Soprano della serie tv cult I Soprano, nei panni di un sindaco stufo del suo ruolo e delle responsabilità che esso comporta.

In definitiva un buon film, avvincente e che tiene incollati alla poltrona, con un cast di tutto rispetto.

Conclusione: Consigliato.

Voto: 7