The Romance of Book and Sword
This week, I’ve endured with overinflated expectations the underinflated teen odyssey of Superbad, which for every sweet-spot moment (mostly achieved by the genuine deftness of the cast) let splooge with five or more repetitive, straining profanity wads, relentlessly cock-pussy-tits-vag from beginning to end, which is not only not how American male teenagers really speak (when I was a teen as well as now, very much detailed blather in hetero circles about your own package was and is questionable at best), but is not terribly interesting, either; been underwhelmed by Johnnie To’s Triad Election (as well as being royally fed up with disproportionate comparisons of virtually any crime movie with more than three characters to The Godfather, which is in any case still safe and secure from being overshadowed); hunted in vain for another new release worth paying to see; revisited Martin McDonagh’s Six Shooter; had idle thoughts – in a Godardian way, breaking up the cine-memories into images and gestures – about the long-legged way Christopher Walken grabbed for Meryl Streep’s bridesmaid dress as she ran out of the bar in The Deer Hunter; wondered how old I’ll be when my list-compulsion wanes; decided to ignore the rabid ‘Nam-apologist/Joseph McCarthy avatar posting comments on my previous entries for fear of boring everyone in sight by regurgitating basic reported facts about the last half-century of American foreign policy; and become bewitched by autumn all over again.
Which leads me to my present matter: the release this week (or availability, anyway), of my new book, Flickipedia: Perfect Films for Every Occasion, Holiday, Mood, Ordeal and Whim, co-written with my lovely wife Laurel Shifrin, and published by Chicago Review Press/A Cappella Books. Having presumably lured a certain kind of cinephile to this blog, let me say this right off the bat: Flickipedia is not a crazy, sophisticated filmhead enterprise. It is instead something devised for the average filmgoer, people who have busy lives of which movies are merely one cultural facet. Hardcore cine-nuts can take no prisoners in their love for Godard and Hou and Antonioni and their disdain for anyone who’d pass up a chance to see Out 1 and would instead attend their child’s soccer game or go fishing or read poetry. This book is not for them (my next book, Exile Cinema: Filmmakers At Work Beyond Hollywood, coming in 2008 from SUNY Press, kinda is). Flickipedia is about movies and life – how they intersect, interact, cross-pollinate. Basically, it’s a renter’s guide for a certain habit of filmgoing, a habit I’ve indulged among others over the years: the desire to see a movie that accentuates, corresponds to or expresses a life moment, be it the coming of autumn, Christmas, Halloween, Memorial Day, the Superbowl, an anniversary, the purchase of a new house, childbirth, Opening Day, a road trip, a family vacation, nostalgia for the ‘30s or for your own high school days, ad infinitum. Having exhausted favorite movies in this way over the years, Laurel and I have wanted such a book ever since we took up quarters together two decades ago, and so eventually we wrote it ourselves.
Does anyone else watch movies this way? Every springtime brings to us a fierce desire to watch A Room with a View yet again; every July beggars A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy and, in homage to my preadolescent matinee trial by fire, Planet of the Apes. What's better viewing on a windy, dark autumn day than a black-&-white '60s British psychodrama, and what could answer the demands of an authentic sick day better than The Godfather parts I & II? Christmas movies can get beat up over time; we’ve hunted down some alternatives (though we may return to It’s a Wonderful Life, discovering new things in its fabric, routinely). Because some inspired local New York broadcast programmer back in the ‘70s played King Kong, Son of Kong and Mighty Joe Young every Thanksgiving, that’s what I – and now our kids – watch instead of football. Laurel even discovered, through trial and error, the perfect film to watch while enduring labor pains: costume romances.
Anyway, I’ll finish my earnest pitch for Flickipedia here (right of this page lies the book's website, and Amazon links), and bid ye all the blithe freedom of your own moviewatching impulses. Thank you for your patience.
Michael, autumn is my favorite time of the year. And not only because I have a birthday coming up in a few days- No, no, no presents, please, I simply couldn't. And, anyway, at this point, I don't want to be reminded.
So, what is a recommended movie for this season? In the past I've gone for something by Woody Allen. Who else captures autumn in nyc better? Willis, DiPalma, Nykvist...great work from each. It really is the best time of year to shoot here. If you care to suggest something, it need not be set in this city.
Thanks!
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Thanks, Jim, for your brimstone. As for autumn movies, our book suggests (among others) Meet Me in St. Louis (an all-encompassing seasonal banquet, but one that's most convincing in its autumnal and winter phases), Paul Newman's Sometimes a Great Notion, Jerry Schatzberg's Scarecrow (really, they knew how to shoot decaying landscape chill in the '70s), Country, Miller's Crossing and even National Lampoon's Animal House (a more evocative film about one's first fall semester in college has yet to be made). Also, consider the flannel-&-mountain-wind-&-ominous-chill of Twin Peaks, the series. Of course, Halloween, unarguably the most movie-corroborative day of the modern year, is another story (and chapter) altogether.
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Funny you mention "The Godfather" being sick day material. When I endured a miserable flu back in the early part of the year, AMC was running their Godfather marathon and those movies took up 2 days of sick time, never failing to impress and enthrall. Hell, and these were the edited versions....
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This sounds like a great book--and a refreshingly charming one at that. Films are pleasurable? Films are pleasurable!
I've always felt there was a temporal nook for vintage Disney cartoons--somewhere in the late morning of an overcast Saturday, on the couch in your pajamas. Probably childhood residue, but there's just something about being enveloped by talking animals.
I'd made a promise to myself to add to the long take dialogue, but life swallowed me up.
But, mark me, I shall return. I shall. (Sorry, I've been watching too much Ken Burns lately.)
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Rumors abound that you are i.d. concealed blogger "Arbogast" but I guesss this is false, huh?, since you have yer own style n' syntax. Did yoo ever appear in theat prod w. Elke Sommer? D'ya know any one who wouldn't brag about this?
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Rumors abound! Where?! I have covert identities, but the doomed detective from Psycho ain't one of them. (My style's been known to mutate, however.) And you're right, had I ever appeared with Elke Sommer, even on a game show, I'd reserve bragging rights. I am, for one thing, not old for such a thing.
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Hi Michael,
Your book sounds like a perfect niche-filler. My own movie traditions include British 60s kitchen-sink dramas (Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, The L-Shaped Room) for when I'm homesick, and Barry Lyndon for when I'm feverish. Costume dramas are indeed wonderful soothers.
When I want a good cry, it has to be Kes.
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