...Aykroyd spends his free time speeding through outskirts and befriending coroners. Belushi, being Chicago’s favorite son, does anything he wants. Everything about him—his lunch-bucket charm, his utter lack of pretense—makes Belushi a figure of such resounding local popularity that Aykroyd calls him “the unofficial mayor of Chicago.”
A trip to Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs, boggles [John] Landis. “Like being with Mussolini in Rome,” he remembers. Belushi, having entered one of the stadium’s crowded bathrooms, smiles and shouts, “O.K., stand back!” Everyone retreats from the urinals. Belushi does his business. Then, zipping his fly and beaming, he says, “O.K., back you go!”
“John would literally hail police cars like taxis,” Mitch Glazer says. “The cops would say, ‘Hey, Belushi!’ Then we’d fall into the backseat and the cops would drive us home.”
[...] The film’s budget is $17.5 million, then an expensive proposition, particularly for a comedy. Or whatever it is. Nobody quite knows. There’s comedy and lots of it. There are car chases and crashing helicopters. But all of the above revolve around four giant song-and-dance numbers, each starring a different music giant: Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, and Cab Calloway. Not to mention the performances by Jake and Elwood.
“You could tell there was confusion,” Landis says. “I told some of the crew, ‘This is a musical.’ They were so confused. They didn’t know what the fuck they were making.”
[...] One night at three, while filming on a deserted lot in Harvey, Illinois, Belushi disappears. He does this sometimes. On a hunch, Aykroyd follows a grassy path until he spies a house with a light on.
“Uh, we’re shooting a film over here,” Aykroyd tells the homeowner. “We’re looking for one of our actors.”
“Oh, you mean Belushi?” the man replies. “He came in here an hour ago and raided my fridge. He’s asleep on my couch.”
Only Belushi could pull this off. “America’s Guest,” Aykroyd calls him.
“John,” Aykroyd says, awakening Belushi, “we have to go back to work.”
Belushi nods and rises. They walk back to the set as if nothing happened.
It has a happy ending, until you remember what happened next. Read while listening to some of the greats, then follow with Strand Of Oaks's remarkable Daniel's Blues, the saddest song you'll ever hear written from the perspective of Dan Aykroyd.
After getting pretty excited last year by teaser images of the new Highlands-based fantasy feature from Pixar, Brave, I've found the footage released so far to be disappointing. Narrative-wise it doesn't appear to stray from paths already walked by films like How To Train Your Dragon and Mulan, while the Scottishness is the clichéd arse-flashing boorish nonsense that too often acts as lazy shorthand for a Scottish character. Watching a complete 2 minute sequence from the film didn't help much - while technically it's astonishingly good (the detail on the hair! the archery!) it felt like Mulan by way of Disney's Robin Hood. Boo.
Huzzah, then, for living in an age where you can see what trailers are being used for other countries, because the Japanese trailer for Brave knocks the stuffing out of the English-language version (and it's got subtitles too!). Like the Japanese poster (see right) there's a much greater focus on the woodland fantasy that was so initially enticing - perhaps the whopping domestic success of Studio Ghibli's masterful Princess Mononoke had something to do with that. Also - and this may just be because I recently spent a huge amount of time playing it - this felt far more reminiscent of woodland levels in The Legend of Zelda than anything else presented before, the forests more primal, shadowy and ancient than the fairytale woodland of Tangled. There's hope yet.
As part of the usual global celebrations marking Nagglemas yesterday, Wifey & I settled down to watch one of the traditional gifts that had been presented to mark the occasion, the Blu-ray of For All Mankind. If you've not had the pleasure of seeing it before, it's a 80 minute documentary film made up of footage from the Apollo program that basically presents one mission, from suiting up the astronauts to leaving the Moon, gorgeously presented as part of the Masters of Cinema series.
It's a fascinating film for a whole bunch of reasons. For one thing, even though you think in advance you've seen every possible piece of relevant footage from the launch and the landings, there's an awful lot here that was new to me. Also, because this isn't some short summary crammed onto television, there's time to focus on the details, the little things that would be mundane if they weren't taking place somewhere between this planet and the Moon - it makes the whole thing feel more real. With the benefit of hindsight, the relative basic technology on show is at times jaw-dropping - they got to the Moon with that? Seriously?
It's an absolute joy to watch. The picture quality is as good as could be given they were using 16mm cameras up there, rather than IMAX, and the conversion to HD is mint. The soundtrack is just as important - crucially, the only narration comes from interviews with the astronauts who'd been up there, removing the distancing omnipresent narrator that such documentaries often have. Rather, For All Mankind lets Apollo speak for itself, both visually (no CGI reconstructions here) and by letting the astronauts speak for themselves. It all adds to a feeling of immediacy, of bearing witness to something fresh rather than looking back through decades of nostalgia and memory.
And, of course, there's the music, much of the film subtly soundtracked with some of Brian Eno's finest ambient work. Rather than go for the bombastic classical thunder that others may have associated with such a mighty cosmic endeavour, Eno rightly focuses on exploring (as quoted in the excellent booklet that accompanies the Blu-ray/DVD):
a unique mixture of feelings that quite possibly no human had ever experienced before, thus expanding our vocabulary of human feelings just as those missions had expanded the boundaries of our universe.
So while the launch sequence itself rightly drops jaws with the immensity of what's going on (see below), once the astronauts leave Earth it all becomes much more intimate, more personal, more human, as does the music. It evokes drifting, floating, quiet awe, distance, strangeness and wonder.
As a friend commented last night, it's a film that ought to be compulsory viewing in schools. And while mankind is still capable of staggeringly complex endeavours in the name of science and discovery - helloooooCERN - that in itself seems indicative of how over the decades since the last moon landing (Apollo 17 was in December 1972) we've taken to looking inwards, rather than upwards. While there continue to be great undertakings of massive costs, these are for wars, not progress. Sometimes it feels like, having reached for - and touched! - the skies all those decades ago, we retreated in on ourselves, interested only in what the individual can achieve, rather than together. It boggles my mind to think that when my child is six years old it will have been half a century since the first Apollo landing, and I'm determined to do all I can to make him appreciate what a wonder this was, how incredible the study of space was in the 20th Century (helloooooo Carl Sagan's Cosmos on DVD - FOR £6?!).
Because, more than anything, it's such a wonderful demonstration of what we as a species can achieve when we dream, we try, we fail, we struggle, we strive - together. And in a world increasingly spent in our own insular digital worlds (blogging being no exception), where the words 'for all mankind' have been coopted into selling bland overpriced jeans, where travellers into space are increasingly going not as representatives of humanity but as rich individuals, we are all diminished.
Last night we got round to watching Une Vie de Chat (A Cat in Paris). A French animated film released in 2010, as far as I can tell this never had a UK release (London Film Fest aside) - though this might change with an Oscar nomication this year. It's available on DVD, but sans English subtitles - that said, with a basic knowledge of French you'll get by, especially if you have the French subtitles on, and the plot isn't particularly complex.
It's just over an hour long and is basically about a cat with a double life - by day, pet cat to a policewoman's daughter, by night accomplice to a burgular (with a heart of gold, naturally). But there's also a real baddie, a gangster who widowed that policewoman and whose path is bound to cross all the above.
For an animated feature it's very, verybande-dessinée, in that it's got a very strong graphic style with no attempt to mimic photo-realism - less Pixar, more Picasso - making the most of the looseness and fluidity of hand-drawn animation, but also in terms of plot. It's not Reservoir Dogs (though there is a amusing reference to said film that I still managed to pick up on through the language barrier) but at the same time there's more threat, more menace than such a cat/child-centred film would be expected to have from an American or British studio. The cat, I hasten to add, doesn't speak.
The story is pretty predictable, though not boring, with much delight to be had from the visual inventiveness on show that a more 'classical' animation would've shirked from in an effort to ape reality (dig the power cut sequence, or the perfume swirling above the Parisian rooftops). And while it wasn't quite as violent as perhaps it could've been in terms of letting the cat let loose at the villains, there's still enough claw-slashing to keep me happy. It doesn't overdo the location either - sure, the Eiffel Tower makes the obligatory appearance, but the depiction of Parisian architecture, the changing colours of the city through night and day, are a real treat.
It's a rare example of an animated film that feels like art, handmade, the work of individuals rather than by committee, unafraid to play with the medium, yet not so much that it looks cheap or amateurish. While I think its Oscar nomination is more reflective of this being a weak year for animated features than recognition of a classic piece of cinema (it's good, sure, but it's not that good) it definitely deserves to be seen by more people, and is a welcome example of the strengths of hand-drawn animation let loose.
Jim Henson’s Muppets have been in London this past week for the UK premiere of their new movie, simply called The Muppets. On Thursday, Miss Piggy and Kermit the Frog gave a press conference at the May Fair Hotel, and one of the questions raised was how they reacted to the recent claims by Fox News’ Epic Trolling Eric Bolling that the Muppets “brainwash children” with a “dangerous liberal agenda”.
I'll always love Michel Gondry for the wonder of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (even if it did spawn this über-whiny post from yours truly eight years ago - ah, I was so young...), but his last couple of films haven't appealed much.
HURRAH, then, for this minute-long absolutely-goddamn-barmy advert he's made for a Japanese department store, posted on Film Drunk. Contains much shouting, shrieking, big feet and HAHAHAHAHAHA, which is as close to heaven as you're likely to get on a Wednesday.
Splendid pointer from Buzzfeed to this Tumblr of Blade Runner-related images, articles and videos. Cream of the crop is the Blade Runner Sketchbook, apparently released back in 1982 but long out-of-print. However, thanks to the majesty of the internet, all that lovely concept artwork is now available for your hungry eyes to feast upon. Just click expand below and dig right in.
I've barely been to the cinema at all this year, but this less-than-six-minutes 'trailer' made of clips from 230 of this year's films feels like an exhilerating rush through a hundred multiplexes. After all, even shit films are likely to have one or two good seconds in them.
Masterfully edited together by Gen I, and for a breakdown of what-film-went-where clicky here.
Via this post on the GhibliWiki, I saw this fabulous poster by Olly Moss for one of my favourite films of all time. As with so much of his work, the design is beguilingly simple in a damn-why-didn't-I-think-of-that kind of way, beautifully coloured and perfectly evocative of the film itself. Much to my teeth-gnashing frustration, the print has already sold out at Mondo, though Moss' post suggests he'll be selling signed ones at some point soon (whether I'll be able to justify the cost with a Bagl on the way, well...). Anyhoo, click here to see it larger, while listening to the below, then check out Moss' other film poster work that manages to both hark back to the glory days of 1960s/70s illustration (exemplified by Saul Bass) and still seem fresh and new.
Whoops, rather fell off the blogging wagon for a couple of weeks there. However, with the weather still distinctly wintery there's no likelihood of going out for Saturday shenanigans, so I'm hiding indoors and catching up on writing about what I have been doing until cold white stuff fluttered down from the sky again.
WATCHING: I treated myself to two in a row at the Cameo, starting off with Inside Job. I've been looking forward to seeing this ever since it did the festival circuit last year. It's a documentary by Charles Ferguson, narrated by Matt Damon, that goes out to explain what the bloody hell happened to the American (and, essentially, the global) economy over the last decade that led to recession, to default, to austerity, to shocking inequality. I've often felt that the only reason there's not been greater public fury and horror at what happened is because it's too complex, too complicated to whittle down to a few easy soundbites. Indeed, one of the reasons things were able to go so obscenely out of control in the mid-2000s was the creation of financial products so complicated that barely anyone understood quite what they were - but as long as money rolled in, who cared?
There's been little apparent effort on the part of governments or financial corporations to explain what happened to the general public, essentially bamboozling people with inconceivably large numbers and vague talk of "all in this together". So it's been down to the media to do so in a way that is both accurate and understandable to the layman - no easy task. Robert Peston's blog on the BBC website has been the finest example of this (his very first post in 2007 predicted the explosion of cheap credit "ending in tears"), as is John Lanchester's superb Whoops: Why Everyone Owes Everyone And No-one Can Pay, required reading for every British taxpayer. Michael Moore's Capitalism: A Love Story did a pretty decent job of covering the subject, though was almost too angry, too emotional - though goodness knows that's the only sane response when it all becomes clear - and if Capitalism: A Love Story gave a human face to those suffering from the actions of distant moneymen, Inside Job's strength is to shine a light on those responsible, revealing self-described Masters of the Universe to be just as uselessly human as anybody else.
And it's really, really good. I know that the above, and my intermittent rantings about finance and the economy, can come across as dry, dull, Buzz-Killington fodder, but Inside Job is one of the strongest documentaries I've seen. Using a wide range of interviews alongside news footage to spin a narrative that strips the vague mystery and reveals the corruption, the fraud, the absolute greed for what it is. You'll laugh, you'll gasp, you'll yell "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING?!" A well-deserved Oscar winner last week, I strongly urge you to see this as soon as possible (it's just come out on DVD in America). Don't be fooled into thinking it's all Fred Goodwin's fault, beyond the comprehension of mortal man. Our children will be poorer than us because of this - you should at least know why.
Phew! After that, the western escapism of True Grit was a relief, a beautifully filmed and brilliantly acted western played straight. Don't let your enjoyment of the 1969 film get in the way of watching this - it's a cracking piece of work in its own right and a real pleasure to watch on the big screen. The dialogue is a delight and there's plenty to smile and laugh with, yet at the same time there is menace and threat, sudden violence catching you off guard. It's of a similar standard to Fargo and No Country For Old Men, a genre film filtered through a slightly askew gaze, and well worth seeing. Now if someone could just make a Western set in the Highlands...
LISTENING: Along with still giving the aforereviewed Radiohead and PJ Harvey albums many a play, I've enjoyed a few EPs - firstly, the debut from Sharks Took The Rest, who I first heard about thanks to a Radio 4 status update on Facebook (what an age, eh?). A really nice mix of English folk a la Laura Marling and electronica Lamb-style, the vocals are gorgeous and swoony, and it's always nice to hear string instruments used well. They've already got the Chazzer seal of approval and you can hear and buy the 5-track EP for a measly £4 at Bandcamp.
Then there's Deerhunter's marvellous iTunes Live, though at 8 tracks that's probably a full-blown LP, it's priced at an EP-worthy £3.49 and worth absolutely every penny. It opens with a live pounding of Desire Lines, one of the best tracks of 2010, and keeps the momentum going from there, punching the air in Fountain Stairs, charging through the 10 minutes of He Would Have Laughed like it was nothing. Love it!
Do I get my punk rock license revoked upon admitting I'm a fan of Corinne Bailey Rae? Well, so be it, she's marvellous - I've only just recently got last year's The Sea and it's a stunning piece of work, real soul music devoid of cheese and rich with raw emotion. Anyhoo, on Valentine's Day she released The Love EP, 5 tracks which you can snap up on Amazon for a piddly £1.69! It's a covers EP which goes from a pretty straight reworking of Prince's I Wanna Be Your Lover to a startlingly faithful cover of Belly's gnarly Low Red Moon. Also of note is her version of Is This Love, switching the reggae groove for a sparser, smoother soul rhythm and making it live again. Pure class.
