So. There are these folks on YouTube who watch movies and “react” to them. In most cases

they watch movies they haven’t seen before and, since most of these people are very young,

there are LOTS of old and not-so-old movies which they’ve not yet seen. 

Of course I realize that these are people who are seeking money and notice for a

minimum of effort. Still, I fell into a pit of them about ten days ago and have been drowning

in that mire ever since, watching oodles of the things.

Some of them I watched for two or three or ten minutes then decided, nope, too stupid

or too unappealing or too clearly faking their reactions. What I was left with was a series

of mostly women, primarily aged I’d guess from 22-40. There was a man or two, and one

older person but they didn’t figure a lot in my viewing. 

This was all interesting to me on a couple of levels. First, I enjoyed seeing how some

old movies would play to fresh, young viewers. Second, I found it interesting, and

sometimes appalling, what younger folks knew and didn’t know.

Of course, I don’t expect younger people to know everything I do about old stuff. I

was there for much of those times and saw it first hand. Plus, I’ve had many more years to

learn stuff. So I try not to expect too much from the young, but I’ve made note of some things

which surprised or disappointed me, whatever age they might be.

My plan is to spread this over three or four posts. This one will just cover a few movies

and a few comments for each. The next two posts will focus on some specific movies which

got a lot of interesting coverage from these “reactors.”

 

Most of these folk seem to have trouble with comedy, especially of the wild, farcical variety.

They seem to enjoy AIRPLANE, MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL, THE

NAKED GUN, BLAZING SADDLES, or LIFE OF BRIAN, but they don’t seem to entirely

ge it. There’s lots of “that’s so dumb” and “why would he do that?” And this for films which

are intentionally sort of dumb and full of characters who do things for laughs, not because it’s

behavior expected of real world humans.

Sadly, when they do recognize something from an old movie it’s because “it’s a meme!”

Or something they’ve seen online or parodied in FAMILY GUY. When they recognize an“old” actor, it’s because they saw him in a Harry Potter or Marvel movie. 

A couple of comments from movies whose titles elude me. 

“Who’s Wyatt Earp?”

“What’s Ovaltine?”

I guess those are somewhat understandable, but still upsetting.

Here are a few things gleaned from various movies:

Life of Brian

I watched maybe half a dozen people comment on this movie, and the single thing which

surprised me most was that none of them seemed to recognize the Sermon on the Mount.

They’d say things like, “is that Brian talking?”  “some guy is speaking to the crowd” and

so on.  It probably doesn’t speak well for modern Christianity that this was so unknown

to all of them. But worse than that, it killed the comedy. “Blessed are the cheesemakers”

meant nothing to anyone.

Rear Window

The people sleeping on the fire escape confused everyone. Eventually, about halfway

through the movie, one person did say, “oh, it’s cooler out there.”  Actually, the whole

problem of the heat had them baffled. A couple of them, after a few moments of confusion

finally said something like “oh, I guess air conditioning was a kind of thing for rich

people.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that none of these youngsters recognized Raymond Burr, but as

a guy who grew up watching him weekly, I kept waiting for someone to say, “it’s Perry

Mason!”

Fargo

Every single person who watched this one was totally taken in by the Coens’ “true

story” notice.

“What is a Fargo?”

“Who is Paul Bunyan?”

“What is unguent?”

Pulp Fiction

A favorite comment from one person: when Mia Wallace volunteers herself and Vincent

Vega for the twist contest, one lady said, “uh-oh. I wonder if he knows how to dance?”

And, of course, the “he” in question is John Travolta.

Back to the Future

Only watched one of these, but it provided a favorite observation: About 90% through

the movie, she says, “so I guess this isn’t just a drama, it’s a comedy too.”

Young Frankenstein

In the same vein as the above. We had to get to the “werewolf” / “there wolf” scene

before she said, “Oh, I think this might be comedy.”

The Big Lebowski

Walter, played by John Goodman, is either hilarious or needs to “shut up right now”.

Die Hard

 “Who are Arafat… Gary Cooper …Roy Rogers… John Wayne” … the first three don’t

surprise me too much but…John Wayne? Really? I thought every American of any

vintage would know the Duke.

The Godfather II

The Senate hearings sequences seemed to baffle everybody. “Is he on trial?”  “Uh-oh,

he’s in court.”   I guess they haven’t seen much in the Senate hearing genre. For those

of us who grew up with Kefauver, Watergate, and Ollie North, we can only admire the

authenticity of these scenes.

Casablanca

First, the movie played great with everybody. 

Second, not a soul recognized Peter Lorre. One guy, reading the credits aloud, said

“Peter Loar”.

The reactions to Paul Henreid and Claude Rains surprised me. Everybody loved

Henreid and not just the character of Victor Laszlo. I always found him eminently

forgettable.

And all the women kind of despised Rains because of his admittedly vile habit of

trading exit visas for sexual favors. I’m sure that a lot of people were uncomfortable

with this over the years but forgave it because Rains was so charming and funny. But

21st century women fail to see the humor. To them he’s just a slimeball using his office

instead of Rohypnol.

So you get the picture. More later.

                                                     MY FAVORITE MOVIE

First, please note the operative word in that title above. “Favorite.” Not “Best.” Not “Most Artistic.” Not “Most Famous” or “Most Seen” or “Most Commercially Successful.” No, it’s “Favorite.” 

If you were to ask me, “What’s the BEST movie?” I’d hem and haw, I’d protest that it’s impossible to pick out one movie as the best movie. 

Then I’d trot out my usual “Best” suspects: CITIZEN KANE, THE SEARCHERS, SEVEN SAMURAI, THE SEVENTH SEAL, 2001 A SPACE ODYSSEY, THE GODFATHER, or, if I was in a “lighter” mood, maybe DUCK SOUP, THE GAY DIVORCEE, SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN, ANNIE HALL …But then, after you’d backed me to the wall, “well, if I have to name just one as The Best, then it would be…DR. STRANGELOVE. Of course.” 

We could debate that. No one’s mind would be changed, but a discussion of artistic merit would be possible. 

But “Favorite”...that’s another animal. There’s no debate there. A favorite is a favorite, period. If you tell me your favorite movie is FINDING NEMO, I’d simply say, “oh, okay. That’s a nice movie.” No debate would be forthcoming. If you said your favorite was TANGO AND CASH, I’d probably give you a funny look, but…okay. If you told me your favorite movie was THE HUMAN CENTIPEDE, I’d nod and smile as I backed carefully out of the room, trying to find a safe place to hide. If you told me your favorite movie was TWILIGHT, I’d just say… no… sorry. There are limits. If you offered TWILIGHT as your favorite, I’d say, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

A favorite movie need not be a great movie. It need not be on anyone’s list of “Best” candidates. It’s just your favorite and pfffft, that’s that.

My favorite movie IS also a great movie, but I’ll acknowledge that it wouldn’t make my Top 10 BEST. Still a great movie though. My choice is Bill Forsyth’s Scottish comedy from 1983, LOCAL HERO.

Actually, “my choice” is the wrong phrase. I had no say in the matter. I saw the movie, I loved the movie, I continue to love the movie. It became my favorite, I didn’t choose it. If anything LOCAL HERO chose me.

LOCAL HERO, for those unfortunate enough to be unaware, concerns an American oil company’s plan to buy a small seaside Scottish village lock, stock, and barrel. The cool, canny, modern American businessman sent to Scotland to seal the deal becomes entranced with the people and the village. That’s about it for story.  The movie does have a wonderfully happy ending. Which is also heartbreaking. 

I’ve seen the movie at least ten times, maybe as many as twenty, including just a couple of weeks ago. I’d like to watch it again. Right now.

LOCAL HERO is a comedy, but the gentlest of comedies. I think there are some laugh-out-loud moments, but others may not bark a single giggle. I’ll guarantee, however, that you’ll start smiling a few minutes in and you won’t stop.

But it has teeth, too. It’s not “just” a comedy. It has things to say, little bits of wisdom to drop, most of them tucked inside a tasty sweet.

I’m convinced that, in the old days of video shops, when clerks were asked for recommendations, the specific question which they heard most often was, “what do you have that’s like LOCAL HERO?” 

The problem is there’s nothing like it. The closest I can think of are WHISKEY GALORE--which was sort of an inspiration for this one-- GREGORY’S GIRL, the movie Bill Forsyth made before LOCAL HERO, and COMFORT AND JOY, the movie Forsyth made after LOCAL HERO. But, lovely as those movies are, they’re not really like LOCAL HERO. Because nothing is.

A few years back, long after LOCAL HERO had played the theatrical circuit and retired to the Home for Old Movies, I read a news article which related that the red phone booth which plays an important part in the movie had become a genuine tourist attraction. People would go far out of their way to visit the little Scottish village just to see, to touch, to have their picture taken with that phone booth. It was a palpable touchstone for those who were then and always lost in the movie’s spell.

None of us spellbound folk can ever get enough of LOCAL HERO. We want to live in that movie. We want to be in that village, meet those people, drink in that pub, walk that beach, goggle at the Northern Lights in the Scottish sky. So, we do the best we can. All those tourists travel to pay homage at a red phone booth. The more couch-potatoish of us just watch the movie over and over, always hoping that this time there will be more. Somehow there will be new footage which we’ve not seen before or, at least, some tiny incident we’d never noticed. Or, maybe even better, we could go to sleep and dream about the world of the movie. Maybe for one night’s sleep we can be among the population of Ferness, borrowing “tens” to make a call in the red phone booth.

One day, about thirty years ago, I got on an elevator here in New York to find one solitary passenger traveling down 29 floors with me. It was Peter Riegert, the star of LOCAL HERO. I recognized him immediately and wanted to speak to him, but hesitated. Maybe he didn’t want to be bothered. Maybe I’d be intruding. So we rode down all those floors together as I debated with myself--speak to him or not?  Ultimately I said not a thing. At the lobby, we got off and went our separate ways.  Almost instantly I was drowning in regret. It’s still there, that regret. Of course I should have spoken to him. I’m such an idiot.

All I wanted to say was, “Mr. Riegert, thank you for LOCAL HERO. It’s my favorite movie.” 

The first movie I ever saw in a theater was THE SHAGGY DOG in June, 1959. It was the only family movie outing we ever had while Dad was still in the family. After he left, we saw a few movies with Momma and a few with Dad but never the twain did meet.

From THE SHAGGY DOG on, I became a fairly regular moviegoer. For the next sixty years and a little more, I went to the movies. During some periods I went frequently, during other periods sporadically. But never, in those sixty-plus years was there an occasion when more than a few months passed without my trekking out to the cinema.

In my old age, which has been going on now for a damned long time, my viewings fell way off. Still, I probably averaged a movie outing per month, though occasionally a few months might pass without a moviegoing experience.

Then, Covid. So ya know. The last movie I saw in a theater in the Before Tymes was KNIVES OUT, January 2020. Then a long time passed till I ventured out for THE FRENCH DISPATCH and then NO TIME TO DIE. A couple months later I bought a ticket for NO TIME TO DIE again. Yes, again. That was late in 2021, maybe early 2022. 

Then…nothing. Time passed. More than a year and a half passed and I never went out to the movies. I kinda missed it. Finally, just last week, I walked the endless three blocks to Regal Cinemas to see an actual movie in an actual theater. ‘Bout time, bitch.

The movie was MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: DEAD RECKONING, PART ONE, which is just way way too much title for one movie. And I had a fabulous time. Popcorn and Diet Coke and reclining seat and a really good movie. 

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE, ETC. has, no surprise, sensational action sequences and a pleasingly convoluted plotline. It also has, of course, Tom Cruise. I’m certainly not the first to say it, but let me be the latest to repeat it, I think Tom Cruise genuinely is The Last Movie Star.

Who else can “open” a movie these days? Who else delivers a movie every year or two, no more no less?  Wait, you say, what about Tom Hanks? What about Robert DeNiro? Maybe Meryl Streep? Well, wonderful actors, sure. Formerly big movie stars, absolutely. But they all seem to turn out a dozen “movies” a year now, most of which never see the inside of a theater. It’s a different thing. Different animal.

Tom Cruise, The Last Movie Star. I stand by that. 

So, is MI:DRP1 a great movie? No, it isn’t. Great as the action is, lovely as the settings are, talented as the actors are, it’s not a Great movie. 

The action, naturally, must be broken every now and then to impart some information and, more importantly, to give the audience a rest. The problem here is that the dialogue in those breaks…not good. Sappy and obvious. A couple of decent gags, but, all in all, pretty rancid stuff. It’s almost painful to watch people like Simon Pegg and Ving Rhames struggle to make some turgid, fakey words sound acceptable.

Cruise and Rebecca Ferguson are somewhat spared those indignities. It even occurred to me that Tom might have seen what the dialogue was and suggested cutting some of his. Or maybe, “hey, why not have Simon say this instead of me?”  Cruise--no idiot he--might very well have managed something like that. Well. He was a producer, after all.

Anyway, very enjoyable action movie. Well worth seeing. Hugely entertaining. But far from perfect. And I enjoyed myself so much that I went back to the movies less than a week later. But that’s another story. A very pink story.

           Okay, I see Tom Cruise, Rebecca Ferguson, Ving Rhames, and, apparently, 
                                    Madame Tussaud's take on Simon Pegg.

                 CHRONOLOGY OF CLASSIC HORROR FILMS: THE 1940S

        By Donald C. Willis

I enjoyed Don Willis’s earlier volume on the Classic Horror of the ‘30s, and, guess what…I like this one even more. When I discussed the earlier tome I suggested that some of Willis’s prose was “stream of consciousness” or something in that area. This time around there’s not so much “stream of” whatever. The writing is smoother and easier to follow. Good move.

Willis’s standards for inclusion in the ‘horror’ category--just like everybody else's-- are pretty loose and lax..except when they’re not. There are quite a few films covered here which wouldn’t pass muster with my evidently more stringent requirements. But that’s okay, I’d much rather he cast his nets wide and gone, than if he squeezed out anything which might arguably belong. Better to haul in a few minnows than to let a juicy sturgeon slip through. (A fish metaphor--niiice.) Besides, all his inclusions are reasonable and understandable, meaning that nothing is covered here which has NO claim to the horror designation, just that there are some which I wouldn’t stretch to include. 

From my casual, non-careful count, 153 movies get individual coverage here. By my lights, 108 of those clearly belong in a book on “Horror Films.” Another 22…maybe. I could go either way. And then there are 23 inclusions which would definitely be exclusions for me. But again-- their presence here is understandable. They may not be in the ballpark, but they're in the ballpark’s neighborhood.

As the title suggests, the book proceeds from year-to-year, 1940 through 1949 with each film discussed according to date of release. This pattern allows the reader to look at what was playing when, what other movies opened at the same time, how these movies related to each other in time.

In addition to commenting on the movies themselves, Don also offers thoughts on other film versions of the same stories, and also on the books which inspired the films.

Willis has plenty of opinions, lord knows, but rarely are they sweeping. Very little “this is lousy” or “this is great” There’s much more of “this element was lousy, but this element was great.” This sprinkling of praise and pan allows almost everyone to agree and/or disagree with just about everything. There’s a lot I agree with, absolutely, and also a fair amount I don’t agree with, but only a couple of instances in which Willis’s opinion clearly shows that the man is a lunatic.

I won’t list the disagreements I have with Don’s opinions…with two exceptions.

He’s surprisingly lukewarm toward ALL THAT MONEY CAN BUY, which is widely considered--by me for sure--a genuine classic

And here’s the real proof for the sanity hearing…He names, as Dud of the Year for 1944  “Fox’s Nitwit version of THE LODGER”

So yeah sure, everyone is entitled to his own opinion, blah blah blah. But where this opinion is concerned, I have to ask…Gunga Don, what the hell is the matter with you?!?!?!

I will admit that, after reading that Dud of the Year thing in the opening comments for 1944, I feared what Don might get up to when actually focusing on THE LODGER. But, while he has little good to say in his LODGER comments, his reaction is really more “meh” than “bah.” He does term both THE LODGER and HANGOVER SQUARE as “weak tea.” Okay, sure. I got ya weak tea right here, Don.

I spotted a couple of elements of these films with which Gunga Don seems surprisingly, amusingly fascinated. For one thing, he finds great amusement, as I think we all do, in all those fake newspapers which earn close-ups in old movies.

And, even more, Willis is endlessly interested in and impressed by the “gowns” worn by our various leading ladies. Vera West might almost be the unexpected heroine of this book. Several times he adds, “fashion comments by Mo”. So it’s pretty clear that Don watched these movies in the company of his better half, who took stereotypically feminine interest in the fashions. Anyway, Vera West: Horror Heroine!

Some Willis-isms which tickled me…he lists several psychological horrors set in NYC, terming it “Manhattan, Island of Lost Souls”.

Referring to all the doctors in NIGHT MONSTER, he calls the Ingston place “The Old Doc House.” Heh. Good one.

Does a nice job of identifying Boris Karloff’s role in HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN as “monster traffic-director.”

He opines that, in THE MUMMY’S GHOST, it  “could be anyone--Tom Tyler, Eddie Parker…Cary Grant-- behind the Jack Pierce makeup…at odd moments it looks like it could even be Chaney.”

Discussing the questionable qualities of CAPTIVE WILD WOMAN, Willis asks the musical question, “what’s not to love here?” Oh, Don. Do you seriously want an answer to that?

“If the 1930s was Universal and monsters, the 1940s was RKO and mood, states of mind.”

I would probably have said “Lewton” rather than RKO, but Willis’s broader sweep is probably more accurate.

Most entries get coverage ranging from half-a-page to two pages. A few earn a little more. Five pages for THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. 

ISLE OF THE DEAD at 5 ½ pages is the longest entry. This is a movie on which he and I are utterly in sync. It’s a great, too often-undervalued, horror movie. And he cleverly, and so incisively refers to that film’s climactic sequence as “The Seven Minutes”.

After telling us, of the Crime Doctor films, “One entry in that series, SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT (1944), borders on horror,” he proceeds to include two or three of them among his entries. He’s right that a couple of them do “border on horror,” but personally, I don’t think any of them really qualify.

He tells us that SPOOK BUSTERS opened just about a week after THE TIME OF THEIR LIVES.  Poor SPOOK BUSTERS…

He writes that the short story upon which BEAST WITH FIVE FINGERS was based was called “The Beast”. I just recently read the story which, in the version I read, carried the full “...with Five Fingers” title. I suspect neither of us is wrong here.

In a flash forward to the Langella DRACULA, Willis, obviously deep under the influence of hallucinogens, says the movie “saves the best for last” and actually praises the Dracula kite scene.

RETURN OF THE APE MAN:  “what can you say about a movie in which the actor (George Zucco) billed third in the credits is not even in it?”   Welllll…to be entirely, technically, nitpickingly accurate--Zucco is in the movie. For one short shot, lying unconscious on the slab. Once he wakes, it’s Frank Moran the rest of the way.

He writes that, in HOUSE OF DRACULA,  hunchbacked Nina “apparently dies.” Don is much more of an optimist than I am. His test tube is half-full. That girl be dead.

The book is pretty darn clean. I spotted only maybe two or three typos, and one of them might not be a typo at all. Might be an attempt at cleverness which didn’t make it. 

A couple of things which Willis probably did check on, but trusted the wrong web source: the plural of “bus” (as in a Lewton “bus”) is “buses”. Though some online places accept “busses”, the accepted (and proper) spelling is “buses.”  “Busses” means “kisses”.

See? Those are really tiny and really pedantic. That’s what I’m so FAMOUS for!

So, finally, congratulations and mucho thanks to Don Willis for this wonderfully readable, informative, and truly entertaining book. Full marks, old bean!

I never lived in Indianapolis, but I worked there a lot and, hence, spent

a ton of time there between 1974 and 2013. So, I got to know a lot of

local names. Politicians, important folk like that. Probably the most

familiar name of all was that of William Hudnut, the four-term

Republican mayor of Indianapolis. I heard the name all the time, but

even if I’d only heard it once, how could I have forgotten that name?

I mean…Hudnut.

In 1980 I was in a dinner theater production of ARSENIC AND OLD

LACE in Indianapolis. Lousy winter weather held box-office down

a bit but we did pretty good business and got decent reviews

overall. 

But one day there was a by-God blizzard in town. Several inches

of snow, plus wind, biting cold, icy streets. Having worked at this

theater before, I knew that such dangerous weather generally meant

a performance would be canceled. But the day went on, the weather

got worse and worse and no word was forthcoming. I took it upon

myself and called the box office. I was informed that we would not

be cancelling. That was surprising. The box office lady, a friendly

acquaintance of mine, gave me the real scoop. Lots of ticket holders

had called to cancel. The producers wanted to cancel. But... one

group which hadn't canceled was a party of 10 or 12 reserved in

the name of Mayor Bill Hudnut. Nobody wanted to be the one to

call the mayor and tell him the show was canceled, but everybody

was praying that the mayor would call in to cancel himself. He didn't. 

Thus, the show went on. The theater seated 500 and our audience

that night was not even 50 souls. The mayor's party was just about

a quarter of the tiny crowd.  

It is very difficult for an audience to laugh and enjoy themselves

when they are surrounded by emptiness and darkness. And there

is almost nothing worse in the world than playing a comedy to

silence. This was going to be painful.

As the show started, not bad. Some laughs from the tiny crowd.

Most of the laughter, I soon realized, was coming from the mayor's

table. It soon became clear that the mayor himself was leading the

laughter. He was giving out with almost embarrassingly loud

guffaws, even occasionally smacking his hand on the table at the

hilarity. For a while the teensy audience stayed with him. Then, one

by one, they faded away till the only laughter came from the mayor's

table. And eventually -- still not through the first act -- only the mayor

was laughing. 

But his laughter got more and more forced and hollow. Soon he was

out of energy and could only offer weak little "haha" breaths, not

really laughs at all. Then...nothing. No laughter, no reaction, no sound

at all. We played the last two acts to utter, tortuous silence. By the

final curtain, we had maybe 25-30 people left in the house. But among

them, right down front and center, was Mayor Hudnut. He was gray and

slack-jawed, utterly exhausted. I looked directly at him during the

curtain call and he appeared to be in dire need of medical assistance.

He looked like a man who had just run a marathon on an empty stomach

after having no sleep for a week.

That was a long painful night. Acting never before or after felt so much

like ditch-digging. But I always held a fond spot in my heart for Mayor

Hudnut. He didn't have the stamina to go the distance, but by gum he

gave it a noble try.

I think it was his supreme effort at audience-ing which earned him a statue.