Well, it had to happen. Lauren Bacall died today. Now I know: she was 89. But I really expected her to make it to 90 at the very least. And she had only another month to go! Olivia de Havilland is still alive at 98! It isn’t fair. Really, I feel like Bogart has died again.

Obviously, Bacall became a star because she was beautiful with that amazing sexy petulance on the screen. But just like Katharine Hepburn and Bette Davis, she aged really well. She didn’t grow out of the bad girl act, she grew with it. She became someone I enjoyed seeing in interviews, and that’s saying something because I generally find actor interviews incredibly boring. But she came across as enormously real but still with that bit of slyness that made you wonder if she wasn’t just making the whole thing up.

She was also a well know liberal. But I only just found this great quote from her in 2005 on Larry King Live. He asked her if she was a “big D Democrat.” She responded, “I’m a total Democrat. I’m anti-Republican. And it’s only fair that you know it. Even though…” He interrupted in mock surprise, “Wait a minute. Are you a liberal?” She said, “I’m a liberal. The L word! I love it. Being a liberal is the best thing on earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you’re a liberal. You do not have a small mind. Little picayune things. You want to welcome everyone.” She continues on. It is quite delightful. “I hear anyone say anything about FDR…” How do you not love her? Unless you have a small picayune Republican mind!

The world, of course, will always remember one thing about Lauren Bacall:

The whole scene has a few gems. “Who was the girl, Steve? The one who left you with such a high opinion of women?” And, after Bogart asks her why she kissed him, “I’ve been wondering whether I’d like it.” And then afterward, “It’s even better when you help.” She’s just great, and totally outclasses Bogart. But that’s much of the charm of the whole thing:

That was her first time on the screen as far as I can tell. And she had been working ever since—through this year. Goodnight princess, you should have died hereafter; there would have been a time for such a word; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

I read an interesting bit of news over at The Guardian, A Reboot of Columbo Is a Fantastic Idea—Apart From One Enormous Flaw. It reported on speculation that Mark Ruffalo may be cast as Columbo in an upcoming feature film. The “enormous flaw” in the title of the article is that Columbo wouldn’t work on the big screen and should remain a television show. This is true, but not for the reason that the anonymous writer claimed.

According to the article, “[A] movie—striving for event status, shouldering itself into the cultural conversation by claiming to be a once-in-a-lifetime event—simply doesn’t jibe with the lieutenant’s process.” The point is that Columbo’s whole process is slow and steady and so you really couldn’t appreciate it in a one-time event. As far as I’m concerned, this is not an enormous flaw.

The Columbo character first appeared on the stage. But The Guardian noted that its real place was on television. Well, maybe. I would say that theater and television are very similar: they are dialog centered. And that is the key to why Columbo wouldn’t work on the big screen. Now notice: I said wouldn’t, not couldn’t. The truth is, if it weren’t for our ridiculous copyright system, some young filmmakers could make any number of great low-budget Columbo films. (The character was created in 1962, and I think after 52 years, it is far past time that he is in the public domain.)

The problem is that no Hollywood studio would make a film that retained what we all liked about the television series. They would insist upon car chases and action sequences. And I’m sure that they could do that while being true to the character. But why? No one wants to see that. The article claimed, “The pleasure comes from seeing how Columbo applies his wily process to the murderer at hand.” But I disagree with even this. As murder mysteries go, Columbo isn’t very good. I’m often left at the end thinking, “That would never hold up in court.” The pleasure is just hanging out with Columbo and waiting for each, “Just one more thing…”

The essential nature of the show is two people talking to each other. And as far as Hollywood is concerned, this is death. It is no accident that My Dinner with Andre came out of the collaboration between a playwright and a theater director. Yet that film did work on the big screen. Although having watched it again recently, I know it works just as well on the small screen. And that’s the same thing about the character Columbo. There is no advantage to doing it on the big screen. And if Hollywood does it, they will screw it up.

But maybe there shouldn’t be a reboot of Columbo. I agree that Ruffalo could do a great job with the character. But wouldn’t the right thing be to bury Columbo with Peter Falk? I mean, just out of respect? But I doubt that will happen. The Columbo brand is worth too much money. So whether it is with Ruffalo or not, whether it is on the big screen or small, whether it is sooner rather than later: it will be done. And regardless of whether it is done well or not, the only thing that will matter is if it makes money. Because Columbo is not a beloved character owned by us all. It is a valuable commodity that must be used to maximize profits, because we are a great civilization—the first one to be totally lacking in a soul.

I saw both Despicable Me and the sequel at the theater. And I just watched both again recently on DVD. And it amazes me that I’ve never written about them. That’s because they are more or less perfect entertainments. They are funny and sweet. Agnes is adorable and of course she melts the evil genius’ heart. The second film has a weaker plot, but it is hard to notice. The characters are all so engaging that it is just fun to hang out with them. What actually happens doesn’t matter except that it all works out and Agnes is happy in the end. So you can add both these films to the list of films like His Girl Friday that I put on when I need cheering up.

But I want to discuss a more serious element of the film: the minions. They could have been handled so poorly. And, in fact, I think the Oompa-Loompas in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory are handled poorly. (That’s isn’t so true of the novel Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or the 2005 film.) The Oompa-Loompas all seem so grim that they come off more as slaves than employees. The minions, on the other hand, are very explicitly employees. And this actually creates a context for Gru’s evil schemes that allows for the final resolution in the first film and the entire second film to work.

A fair amount of time is spent in the first film establishing that Gru is no more evil than your average small businessman, and that being evil is just his profession and not something that reflects on who he really is. For example, he goes to the Bank of Evil and is turned down for a loan. But most of all, there is his relationship with his minions. Gru is what I would call, the Good Boss. He still considers himself above the minions, pays them poorly, and is demanding. But the minions seem happy. Gru is clearly lenient enough that he allows them to goof around while on the job.

There is every indication that Gru created the minions.[1] Thus, the fact that he treats them as independent is important. They are most clearly not slaves. What’s more, that implies that they are the way Gru wants them to be. They represent his id. And are the minions ever id! We see both the good side of this (their constant delight at life) and the bad side (constant fighting with each other). And the bad side is sweet in its own way—no one gets hurt and it never lasts long.

The minions remind me of the start of the film Swimming to Cambodia. Spalding Gray is talking about the Thai waiters and he says:

That’s the minions right there. They are always having a good time. And I think that’s why I don’t mind all the fart jokes the snickering at things like the last name of Silas Ramsbottom. It’s impossible not to be swept away with their enthusiasm.

So you might be wondering why I’m so focused on the minions—why I’ve over-thought them. It is a form of apologetics. I don’t want to have to worry that there is some kind of festering thematic problem hidden in the film. Of course, there are some problems: the division of people into good and bad; gender and racial stereotypes; fat shaming and so on. What’s more, the minions themselves are an explicit class. But it would be impossible for a work of art to not reflect many of the same problems that exist in society and still be coherent. The problem with most big budget films is that they celebrate problems in our society.

I feel safe with the Despicable Me franchise.

[1] I just learned that there will be prequel, Minions about the minions before they met Gru. So he did not create them. This doesn’t actually make any sense and I doubt it was the original idea. But it doesn’t much matter. Clearly Gru and the minions are kindred kinds.

For the record, the plot from Wikipedia:

There is one young lady I follow on Google+ who has a Christian kind of name, but basically only posts videos from The Twilight Zone. I’m quite the fan of the show and that’s undoubtedly why I follow her. I often make comments, pointing out things about the production. You know me. But she posted the episode “The New Exhibit,” with a description that this was where they got the idea for the film House of Wax. We communicated back and forth and I found out that she was not referring to what I think of when I hear that title—the 1953 Vincent Price classic—but rather the 2005 film of that name. With such confusion, I thought it deserved a little discussion.

To be honest, “The New Exhibit” has nothing to do with either of these films. It tells the story of Martin Senescu (played by Martin Balsam) who works at a wax museum. When the owner decides to close it down, Martin gets the owner to let him keep the wax figures from the “murderers’ row” exhibit in his basement. He has an air conditioner installed and spends all his time tending to them. His wife is none too happy about this—especially given that they don’t even have money for food. The wife’s brother tells her to sneak down at night and turn off the air conditioner; the figures will melt and Martin will come to his senses. But when she tries to do this, one of the figures comes to life and kills her. In the end, three people are murdered. Of course, it wasn’t the wax figures. It was just that Martin had gone totally insane and the episode ends with him being immortalized in wax as part of the “murders’ row” exhibit now at a museum in Europe. It’s a typically great script by Jerry Sohl.

That’s an excellent episode, but it is almost the exact opposite of all the other wax museum films. So let’s look at them. In the early 1930s, Charles Spencer Belden was working as a salaried writer at Warner Bros. He had written a short story, “The Wax Works,” which the studio decided to option. Coming on the heals of Universal’s successes with Dracula and Frankenstein, it probably sounded like a good idea. And it was a good movie! It was directed by veteran Michael Curtiz, who most people know for directing Casablanca. He directed at least five films released in 1933, one of which was Mystery of the Wax Museum.

The film is perhaps most notable for being the last major film to use the two-color Technicolor system. The missing color is yellow, and yet it looks pretty good. As for the story, it is what people who have seen the Vincent Price version will know. A master wax sculptor, Ivan Igor, has his unscrupulous business partner burn their wax museum for the insurance money. Igor fights with him and seems to be killed in the fire. But 12 years later, he is back, although confined to a wheelchair and without the use of his hands. Of course, he has also gone completely mad and is killing people, stealing their bodies from the morgue, and covering them with wax.

This is a surprisingly bad trailer, because it gives away the “surprise” and doesn’t include the parts of the movie that I like the most:

The main difference between the 1953 House of Wax and Mystery of the Wax Museum, is that the latter has this great subplot about plucky reporter Florence Dempsey (played adorably by Glenda Farrell) who is trying to get to the bottom of the mystery. She is Hildy Johnson or Amy Archer, depending upon how old you are. And the film even manages to cram a love story in its 77-minute running time where Dempsey has to choose between the rich guy or the right guy.

There are two reasons that I prefer Mystery of the Wax Museum to House of Wax. First, it runs at a frenetic pace. Yes, it is a horror film, but it’s also a screwball comedy. No one is taking any of it too seriously and it is just a lot of fun. Second, House of Wax was shot in 3-D, and there are some very annoying segments in the film as a result. Most especially, there is a scene with a guy with a paddle ball that goes on far too long. None of this is to say that House of Wax is bad. It isn’t. It’s great! It’s a horror film with Vincent Price. And even though I do not think that combination can result in a bad film, House of Wax is definitely closer to the best that he did.

Unfortunately, the trailer for House of Wax didn’t show any scenes from the movie. It was all about how great 3-D was going to be. By the way, 3-D sucks. Even today, it mutes the colors that you would see. I don’t know why anyone likes it. But if you do, apparently you can get House of Wax 3-D on DVD or BluRay. Here is a scene from the end of the film that gives away the “surprise” that was already given away in the previous trailer:

Now I must admit to having not seen the 2005 film House of Wax. But luckily, we have Wikipedia, and so I can tell you that it is nothing at all like the earlier films. It is basically a slasher film where the victims are covered in wax. It is exactly the kind of film being parodied in the excellent Tucker & Dale vs Evil. Roger Ebert wrote of it, “House of Wax is not a good movie but it is an efficient one, and will deliver most of what anyone attending House of Wax could reasonably expect, assuming it would be unreasonable to expect very much.” Not really my kind of thing, but it sounds good enough.

It is probably because I tend to get too involved with films, that I overload on things like this and just see them as funny. So for me, late 1960s and early 1970s horror is just perfect. I especially like a bit of wit as in Theatre of Blood. (Horror, revenge, and Shakespeare!) But whatever. The three films I have discussed here that I’ve also seen each work. And I suspect the 2005 House of Wax works quite well in its own way.

Afterword

There is a version of the 1953 House of Wax that includes a very nice transfer of Mystery of the Wax Museum. If you want it, buy it from Amazon and throw a few pennies my way!

I finally got around to watching Dallas Buyers Club. I really didn’t want to watch it, but a lot of people told me I should. It turned out to be exactly what I thought it would be—exactly the kind of film that I don’t need to see. More important: it is exactly the kind of film that the Academy loves. And it is a well made film. It works surprisingly well as an episodic story. And I suppose we are supposed to think that Matthew McConaughey’s performance is amazingly subtle as he goes from being a homophobic jerk to someone who embraces the gay community. But I think that’s something that is more read into the film than is found on the screen.

To me, the main character, Ron Woodroof, is a selfish jerk throughout the film. But selfish jerks often do a lot of good, as Woodroof does. He has two primary concerns: keeping himself alive and making money. And it is not until the film is almost entirely over that he seems to care about anyone except in the sense that they help him in that regard. And it is only when he is too ill to care about the financial aspect of the venture, that we see what might be considered altruism. I don’t see anything wrong with this. As played by McConaughey, he has the feel of the lovable rogue. How can you not love a man who smuggles a trunk load of drugs over the US-Mexico border dressed as a priest? Moist von Lipwig was never more adorable. (Or is that “Adora Belle”?)

The film does a good job of showing what it was like for people early on during the AIDS epidemic. And it is a hell of a lot of fun watching Woodroof lash out at the haters, even as he still is one himself. At one point, he comes home to his trailer to find graffiti written on it, “Faggot Blood.” The door has had a padlock placed on it and there is what looks like an official notice on the door. So he yells, “I still live here, you hear me?!” Then he gets a shotgun from the trunk of his car, and blows the lock off the door so he can get his stuff. There is another scene where he forces a former friend to shake hands with his new transvestite friend and business partner Rayon.

In end though, I’m not really sure what the film is supposed to be all about. It seems like it wants to be an issue film about the drug companies and the corrupt system of FDA approval. And it makes a point about drug trials where those running them expect half of the ill to die, even under the best circumstances. But overall, this seems tacked on and acts more as a distraction. To me, it is a given that drug companies are always evil. The issue at the time really was whether the government was going to get over itself and allow people who were dying to do whatever they wanted that they thought might help them.

But in the end, the film works pretty well. And Hollywood can pat itself on the back that 35 years after the AIDS epidemic, a couple of unknown screenwriters and a Canadian director managed to get a low budget film made about it that the people liked enough, so that the Academy could nominate it for a bunch of awards. It helps, of course, that Ron Woodroof was presented as straight, even though he probably was bisexual. But this also means that it falls into the same troubling category of a film I like very much, Mississippi Burning, where the white folks come in and save the blacks. Here the straight man saves the queers.

Dallas Buyers Club is still an engaging film. It’s sad, at the same time that it is exhilarating the same way that Dirty Harry was. It’s stylishly shot, at the same time it is lit in a highly realistic style. And I think the editing is particularly good. In a film like this, pacing is everything. Given that the thematic thread of the film is very weak, the whole thing could have disintegrated due to its inherent chaos. Regardless, the film sticks the ending with a public defeat but a private triumph. And then it tacks on a short fantasy of Woodroof riding a bull in the rodeo. It’s pretentious, but the metaphor works on so many levels that I can’t imagine anyone not using it. And it allows our last view of him to be when he was healthy, which otherwise might have been a downer of an ending.

As I’m always on about, the issue is whether a piece of art works on its own terms. And Dallas Buyers Club certainly does that. I have no intention of ever watching it again, but I’m glad that I did watch it. And I can see why a lot of people really liked it. It’s unfortunate, however, that this is what passes for a serious film in Hollywood. I had the same problem with Crazy Heart a few years back, although Dallas Buyers Club is a far better film. So maybe there’s a trend. It is pretty to think so.