Sunday, March 3, 2024

We Are All The Incredible Shrinking Man


Every once in a while I need to revisit my boyhood. Okay, truth:  I've never really grown up (much like someone with my same initials and I don't mean Peter Pears), so "revisiting" is a stretch. There are a countless movies my dad introduced me to as a kid, and many of those remain among my favorites: The Greatest Show On Earth, The Five Pennies, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Heaven Knows Mr. Allison, and many many more. Some stand out more than others, and one of the strongest may seem like an odd choice, but it haunted, disturbed and moved me more than most: The Incredible Shrinking Man. I still remember every detail of not only the movie, but of me fidgeting, getting nervous and worrying whether Scott was going to come out of this alive, be cured.  Every few years I come back to it, and . .. today was that day.


Each time I watch it, even knowing the outcome, I become five or six again, fraught with fear and concern about the plight of this tiny human.  Once the shrinking begins, the loneliness, the feeling of helplessness Scott faces almost overwhelm me. The perilous challenges ,when the worst of the shrinking begins - one life threatening battle after another are ceaseless . . . . relentless . . . oppressive.  Then, when he becomes truly alone, trapped in the basement, his wife and brother having left, believing he 's dead . . . it tears at my heart.  

As a child, naturally I couldn't comprehend why this story affected me so profoundly, but as years progressed, so did my mind, and my interests in science, philosophy, religion, the cosmos, the myriad dimensions beyond the physical or real world took hold of my brain, and I became obsessed with the why and how of everything.  I vividly recall coming back to this movie in adulthood and there was that proverbial lightbulb moment . . . that Aha! head rush.  This wasn't just some sad horror or sci-fi flick, it was an allegorical look at humanity, at the relative smallness of our place in the vastness of the universe. BUT like the billions of atoms that make us up - the universe recognizes the infinitesimal, and everything matters.  I watched Spaceman last night and one of my takeaways from it works in concert with The Incredible Shrinking Man: the universe is exactly as it should be.


What's fascinating to me about all of this is that the Richard Matheson wrote his 1956 novel as an allegory about the loss of masculine influence on post-war America.  The shrinking man was representative of that loss.  Apparently, Matheson, who wrote the screenplay as well, was not pleased with the direction of film or its ending, but years later, came around to appreciating it . . . and its ending.  And, speaking of the ending, in all of the film testing before its release, audiences hated it. Everyone seemed to want Scott to be cured, to be restored to his full size and reunited with his wife.  Director, Jack Arnold, essentially stated they'd have to change the ending over his dead body, and so the film ends exactly as it should: full of understanding about our place in the universe, but also an accompanying fear of what that means..

For me the biggest tragedy of the film is that its leading actor, Grant Williams, never achieved any genuine measure of fame, never got any roles truly worthy of his talent, and died alone at age 53.  It was interesting diggig up what I could on him and realizing how many gifted people like Williams just never got the opportunity to shine - or only briefly in small films like this one. It's really the story of Hollywood, isn't it?  Grant Williams was born in New York, and began acting onstage as a child.  He joined and was trained in the U.S. Airforce, and after serving returned to New York to study with Lee Strasberg. He found professional work in the theatre and I'm not sure who saw him, but he was quickly offered a contract and signed by Universal and moved to Hollywood, playing bit roles on television or uncredited ones in film. He caught the eye of Jack Arnold who was impressed and cast him against type as evil gunslinger, Chet Swann in the 1956 western Red Sundown, and then a year later in the lead role for the movie which he's still best known. 


One important fact I never before knew was was Williams was also a singer, three years after filming  The Incredible Shrinking Man, went back to New York as the tenor soloist in Martha Graham and Halim El-Dabh's legendary 1958 ballet Clytemnestra, for a three-performance run Broadway in 1960.  

Williams was a quiet man who seemed to shy away from the Hollywood glitterari and led a very private and not active social life. There was much gossip and rumor about his being gay (which seems likely) and consigned him to a career mostly of single episode appearances in shows like Gun Smoke, Mr. Lucky, and Shirley Temple's Storybook. His longest gig would be as the composer Tchaikovsky in a three episodes for The Wonderful World of Disney.  Another strike against  him was one I'd never even considered until reading about it today was that Williams was fair and blonde, and and during his career Hollywood was almost exclusively casting its leads as tall, dark and handsome like Cary Grant, Rock Hudson,Steve McQueen, et al. 


Watching the film now, while there are several supporting roles, most importantly Randy Stuart, who is excellent as Scott's wife, nearly the entire film is carried on the shoulders of Mr. Williams's as Scott Carey. Because of the way it had to be filmed, Williams was required to act through most of the film alone, as has been noted: acting opposite nothing and with no one.  The role also called for incredible physicality: Scott must go from appearing childlike, lost in grownup world of furniture and giants, sipping coffee from a boat sized cup, and then performing incredible physical feats, fighting like a gladiator, swinging across vast spaces and climbing seemingly insurmountable heights. Watching it with an actors eyes, Williams serves all of this up with a ferocity that feels natural and is admirable. he also suffered multiple injuries, burns, and went temporarily blind during filming. Through it all is an underlying sadness always just under the surface that is enormously moving.  Additionally, Williams, as Scott, narrates the entire film which, after his epiphany and acceptance, creates something profoundly poetic out of Matheson's screenplay.  


I know this is another of those movies I love that people wonder, "what's wrong with him?" . . . but for almost 60 years (WHAT?) this movie has been part of my life and so, part of who I am. All these decades later, I'm still fascinated by it, still moved by it, still compelled to watch it. In it's way, we, all of us, become The Incredible Shrinking Man

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Saturday, March 2, 2024

SPACEMAN: This is the Beginning


Without knowing a thing about it, including that it had even been made, I watched Johan Renck's Spaceman last night. Although going in, I had no idea what it was about, it was, nonetheless, 100% not anything I might even have suspected.  I was immediately - as in within seconds - completely caught up in everything this story had to say, the art direction, the acting, the storytelling and . . . well, quite frankly not only moved (several times) to tears, but actually kind of blown away by the inherent sadness and tone of it.  

This is a nearly impossible movie to review without giving it away, so here is a 99.9% spoiler free synopsis. 

Czech cosmonaut, Jakub Procházka is on a solo journey to investigate and collect samples from the heavenly anomaly, Chopra, a beautiful, glowing purple cloud of dust that appeared on Earth's horizon several years prior. For this mission,  Jakub had to leave his beautiful, adored wife and unborn daughter. He fights loneliness, depression, and technical issues on his spacecraft in the form of toilet issues, cameras breaking down, noise and eventually, failing communications with Earth.  Six months into his journey he is awakened by an unwelcome alien creature (although being the universe, he, too, is in reality, an alien). This creature, an enormous spider, wreaks havoc on Jakub's psyche as he struggles wondering if he is hallucinating or if this is his reality.  Eventually, a bond is formed between the two beings, and he names the spider (who is from a race where there are no names) Hanuš, who was once believed to have been the builder of the Prague Astronomical Clock in 1410. In turn, Hanuš addresses Jakub only as Skinny Human.  

As they drift closer to Chopra Hanuš is able to see into the mind of Jakub, understand his crippling loneliness, and the fraying of his marriage directly caused by an inability to face the horrible realities of his childhood, and be completely honest with his beloved Lenka. 


Opera lovers may find it interesting how important a role, musically thematically, and dramatically, Dvořák's Rusalka plays in Spaceman, including Jakub's description of the opera to Hanuš. Renée Fleming's recording with Sir Charles Mackerras' of Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém (Song to the Moon) makes several appearances in Max Richter's hauntingly atmospheric soundtrack.  

Full disclosure: I have never been much of an Adam Sandler fan, but here, the fellow bares naked the tortured soul of Jakub, a man who will fearlessly face anything but the realities of his sad and lonely life. Sandler's performance is magnificent. Frustrating. Heartbreaking. Paul Dano supplies the gentle voice of his wise new companion, Hanuš.


Although the bulk of the film is carried on the spaceship, the earthbound counterparts are of equal importance to the tale, and here, Carrie Mulligan as the heartbroken Lenka struggling to move ahead in life is gripping and moving. (One may ask, when is she never?)  Lena Olin - a face we don't see as often as we should - is excellent in the short role of Lenka's mother.  Isabella Rossellini, as Commissioner Tuma - Jakub's commander  is strong, compassionate, and determined to make certain everything works for Jakub whose shoulders much is carried on in this project.

To tell more than this, would be too much I think.

But you may decide NOT to see this movie as, since watching it, I've read countless reviews and nearly all of them have torn the film to pieces. One of the tropes I find most appalling - and one of the biggest cop outs, come from critics who use variations of the phrase "this movie can't decide what it wants to be. Is it a space movie? A love story? Sci-Fi? A statement on the human conditon?"  Why does a story need to be confined to one thing? Why should a movie about humans on earth and in space be only about earth and space? I could go on, but  . .. nah.  


The film is directed by Johan Renck - whose 2019 Chernobyl was an international hit, not to mention one of the best things seen on television in the last decade. Renck has also garnered praise and awards for pilots and episodes of things like Breaking Bad, Black Mirror, Vikings, and The Walking Dead. He treats this filmic adaptation of  Jaroslav Kalfař's acclaimed novel Spaceman of Bohemia, with love, striking perfect balances between what is real and what may not be real, and in so doing, creates a universe, both on earth and in heaven, that is frequently breathtaking in its beauty. 

In the end, all I can say is this: I fell in love with this strange, and strangely beautiful film and plan to journey with it again soon.      

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Saturday, February 24, 2024

All of Us Strangers: As Good As It Gets


I just watched this and have so much to say, BUT this is not so much a review. as just me thinking out loud about a movie that . . . well, destroyed me sounds about right.  

So, Movie fans: Do you like ghost stories? Do you like sad stories? Do you like films that leave you with more questions at the end than you had at the beginning? Are stories that are mercurial, confusing, illusive and open to interpretation up your alley? If so, Andrew Haigh's All of Us Strangers is the movie you need to see.  Right away.  

Haigh is one of those queer directors whose work, although generally centered on gay stories, transcends genre and speaks to us all as humans. Lonely, hopeful, wondering, wandering, vulnerable, and not-as-tough as we think, humans. I've liked everything I've seen, but All Of Us Strangers, goes straight to the top. I will argue that it is as masterful a piece of filmmaking as anything being nominated for all the other awards. An indisputable masterpiece, every element of Haigh's project is perfection: the script, the cast and their acting, the lighting, the balances between what is real and what is dreamed or imagined, the music . . . all of it comes together like a symphony of perfect parts.  


And speaking of symphonies, Haigh takes us on a voyage that immediately brought me to mind of two works: Richard Danielpour's Symphony No. 3: Journey Without Distance, and the work which inspired it: Helen Schucman's, massive (1400 pages)  A Course In Miracles. A Course in Miracles is a metaphysical, spiritual journey that teaches the power of  transformation through healing relationships, asserting that the greatest miracle is the act of simply gaining a full awareness of love's presence in a human life. Schucman tells us - reassures us:

The journey to God is merely the reawakening
Of the knowledge of where you are always and what you are forever.
It is a journey without distance
To a goal that has never changed.
What was a place of death
Has now become a living temple
In a world of light.


Her words began ringing through my head once I realized what the movie was about. Of the story at its heart I will synopsize it simply: Adam, a mid-40's screenwriter, gay, and a loner, has never gotten over the death of his parents when he was 11. Living in a sterile new, near empty apartment tower he meets Harry, also alone in this same purgatory-like residence. It's awkward, Harry is needy and Adam shuts him out. After looking through some souvenirs of his childhood, Adam sets out, wanders, following a man through a field (Elysian Fields?) and the man turns out  to be his dead father, now younger than himself. Dad takes Adam home and the family is reunited, catching up, sharing memories and secrets. The re-established unit continues meeting throughout the film, as Adam, attempting to let down his guard, also lets in and establishes a relationship with Harry.  


The performances of the four principals are flawless. Absolutely.  Andrew Scott (who I first met as the brilliant, twisted, Moriarty in Sherlock ) captures every essence of  the lonely soul that is Adam. Filled with doubt, confused about his importance or relevance in the world, downplaying every aspect of his life . . . it all bleeds marvelously through. His face and physicality speak volumes.

Paul Mescal's Harry, with a near identical agenda, is even more wounded, but wears his heart upon his sleeve - ("for daws to peck at" as Iago would say). Both men have smiles that make a grown person want to cry . . . for so much is revealed through their silence and faces. 

Clare Foy as Mom, is a middle class product of her time, from her hairstyle and jewelry down to her seeming reluctance to embrace her grown son's gayness. It's quickly established this is not rejection, but rather born of a mother's fear of the difficult road ahead for her child . . . a world of prejudice, homophobia, AIDS and loneliness. Adam is able to reassure her the world has changed since then.

Never getting the credit he deserves Jamie Bell has nonetheless established himself as one of the finest actors on screen we have.  His work here as Dad, so different from the last films I've seen him in, is practically a masterclass in subtlety creating a man who is truly proud of his boy, even as he is ashamed for feeling he was not the father he knew he should have been. Bell's work here is noble . . . heartbreaking. 

If you've not seen it, that's all you really need to know. If you have seen it, you're going to want to find a friend to have a coffee with for a few hours of conversation to explore every facet, of this wondrous little movie. Even though it's 2024, I've adjusted my Top Movies of 2023, to put All Of Us Strangers near the very top.  It's that good.  


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Fiennes and Okonedo: Antony and Cleopatra on Fire

I just spent the past three plus hours transported to Rome and Egypt along with Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, in the guises of Ralph Fiennes and Sophie Okonedo. Director Simon Godwin has created a modern, yet still timeless world for Shakespeare's characters to spring to vivid life in, and while overall the cast was excellent, with superb performances by (nearly) all, the show is aptly named for this formidable couple. Shakespeare did well with his titles, eh ? 


Fiennes' Antony is one of surface bravado but with deep and myriad underpinnings of ego, self doubt, jealousy, delusion, loyalty and genius. An interesting, and telling choice, was to portray Antony as an alcoholic, subtly but effectively putting his choices and actions in a light I'd never considered before. When Caesar sends Thidius to "steal" Cleopatra, and seeing through Caesar's intent, toys with the boy, he begins kissing her. Antony staggers in, waving a half empty bottle of Bulleit bourbon (my old favorite!) and his rage seems fueled by the whisky, orders the boy whipped and beaten, and unleashes his rage upon his queen, including what sounds like a liberty taken with the line "Ah, you kite!" (you can imagine what's in its place). Fiennes moves like an aging dancer, elegant one moment, clownish the next, crawling on the floor, all with abandonment of regard of to how he appears. He simply (or not so simply) . . . just "Is."

As his Cleopatra, Sophie Okonedo is . . . formidable seems too slight a compliment for her performance. As many shades as Fiennes' Anthony presents, Ms. Okonedo seems to go even further. She is regal, elegant, sexy, a swaggeringly dangerous beauty, loud of voice and character. She gives such depth to a character already complex on the page that it is difficult not to be overwhelmed by her, which is as true of the viewer as it is of the many characters in the play. 


While their scenes alone and with others felt daringly theatrical, together Fiennes and Okonedo created fire. The Johnny Cash/June Carter song lyrics "We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout" kept springing to mind. The pair almost seem to have a secret language in each other's company that goes beyond words and gestures and straight to the passion and soul of their partner. Godwin had a gift in the pairing of these two formidable actors and the result of their work together is thrilling, almost always on edge and, even for someone knowing the play well, full of constant, welcome surprise,  

Some criticism was made of the initial run (back in 2018) of the length of the play and how Godwin's production - setting each scene in its own locale, rather than a unit set - added unnecessary stretching to an already long work. Similarly, criticism abounds about how Shakespeare knew not how to end this play, a good half hour between the deaths of Antony and Cleopatra. Nonsense. We've moved into an era where plays are frequently shorter than ever, while we easily spend three hours at the cinema watching planets explode, with trite dialogue wanly delivered by beautiful actors afraid of their voices, in films with quick cuts geared toward those with Attention Deficit Disorder. This is not Shakespeare's fault . . . it's ours. If one can give oneself over to the glory of language that speaks beyond the obvious, that is rendered from the hearts and minds of superb artists, on a stage that serves all of it up splendidly, i can think of no better use of a few hours of one's time.  

The film of this live performance is available on several pay streaming platforms presently, and, happily as of today, free on YouTube. Go watch it. Now.  

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