Well, I say it's the TCM schedule for June—it's the schedule of those movies I've mentioned in my blog that are appearing on TCM in June. If you want to get persnickety.
Of particular interest are A Nous La Liberte on the 6th, Duck Soup on the 13th and The Bitter Tea Of General Yen on the 23rd. I'm telling you, you absolutely don't want to miss those.
Remember: the TCM day runs from 6 a.m. EDT until 6 a.m. the following day.
3 Thursday
12:45 AM Arrowsmith (1931)
A crusading doctor fights his way through tragedy to find his true calling. Cast: Ronald Colman, Helen Hayes, Myrna Loy. Dir: John Ford. BW-99 mins
6 Sunday
2:15 AM A Nous La Liberte (1931)
An escaped convict creates a business empire that becomes a new prison for him. Cast: Raymond Cordy, Henri Marchand, Rolla France. Dir: Rene Clair. BW-83 mins
9 Wednesday
9:00 AM Our Blushing Brides (1930)
Three roommates try to land rich husbands. Cast: Joan Crawford, Anita Page, Robert Montgomery. Dir: Harry Beaumont. BW-101 mins
12 Saturday
9:00 AM Monkey Business (1931)
Four stowaways get mixed up with gangsters while running riot on an ocean liner. Cast: The Marx Brothers, Thelma Todd, Rockliffe Fellowes. Dir: Norman Z. McLeod. BW-78 mins
13 Sunday
8:00 PM Duck Soup (1933)
When he's named dictator of Freedonia, a con artist declares war on the neighboring kingdom. Cast: The Marx Brothers, Louis Calhern, Margaret Dumont. Dir: Leo McCarey. BW-69 mins
20 Sunday
12:30 AM Battleship Potemkin, The (1925)
In this silent classic, a Russian mutiny triggers revolutionary sentiments around the nation. Cast: Alexander Antonov, Grigori Alexandrov, Vladimir Barsky. Dir: Sergei Eisenstein. BW-69 mins
23 Wednesday
12:30 PM Bitter Tea of General Yen, The (1932)
An American missionary falls in love with a Chinese warlord. Cast: Barbara Stanwyck, Nils Asther, Walter Connolly. Dir: Frank Capra. BW-87 mins
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Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Should be like this!
Kembali ke realita kehidupan. Gue seakan-akan baru terbangun dari tidur panjang ketika menyadari ujian blok kurang lebih tinggal seminggu lagi. Mengapa waktu berjalan begitu cepat? Selama 4 minggu blok 8 ini gue ngapain aja sampe ga sadar waktu ujian udah dekat?. Apakah gue ditelan rutinitas kampus yang padat? Jelas jawabnya, ENGGAK. Yang ada gue kebanyakan MAIN.Huhu. T.T
Terlambat untuk menangis kawan. Sekarang saatnya bangun dan memikirkan solusi. Seharian gue mikir dan akhirnya nemu dua kegiatan yang akan gue lakukan untuk menghadapi ujian blok 8 “aerodinamis” mendatang.
1.Puasa Main-main.
Inilah terobosan terbaru gue. Puasa dari segala kegiatan main-main. Termasuk mainin upil sendiri. Berikut ini adalah daftar kegiatan main-main, yang harus gue hindari di masa-masa pra-exam.
a.Bermain pro evolution soccer.
Gue biasanya main game ini ampe pagi. Kalo libur, gue bakal main seharian ampe laptop gue mendidih. Laptop gue udah bisa deh jadi pengganti microwave. Jadi kalo misalnya gue main game begadang ampe pagi, terus mau kuliah tapi sarapan belon dibuat, yaudah, tinggal taro telor jadi deh tuh mata sapi rasa litium. Haha, parah nih.
Kalo gue ga main ni game, jelas waktu belajar gue pasti lebih banyak.
b.Baca komik lanjutan “Pluto”
Setelah sukses menjalani blok 8 ini dengan dua puluh empat jilid komik “20th century boys”, gue pun nyari komik baru buat dibaca lagi. Dan pilihan gue jatuh ke “Pluto”. Gue udah baca satu volume, dan pengen lanjut. Berhubung sebentar lagi ujian, dan gue sedang ingin melakukan rencana “Puasa main-main” maka, mulai hari ini, sampe selesai ujian, dilarang baca “Pluto”. Ga hanya Pluto, komik lain juga dilarang.
Dengan begitu waktu belajar gue otomatis lebih banyak.
c.Dengerin musik berlebihan.
Berkat pinjaman headset dari Ade, musik jadi ga pernah berhenti berputar ditelinga gue. Gue bisa menghabiskan waktu lebih dari tiga jam untuk bengong sambil dengerin musik. Plus ditambah khayalan-khayalan gue menyanyi diatas panggung gede. Wuahh.
Segala yang berlebihan itu tidak baik. Oleh sebab itu, gue bakal puasa dari kegiatan dengerin musik yang berlebihan.
Otomatis, waktu yang gue punya untuk belajar jadi bertambah.
2.23th Alone boy Project.
Untuk sementara gue libur dulu dari kegiatan tulis menulis. Ujian udah didepan mata. Tapi biar otak gue ga beku, gue berencana buat serial cerita di facebook. (mumpung tren fb belum redup). Judulnya 23th alone boy. Nah, diwaktu dua seminggu pra-exam ini tugas gue Cuma observasi, penentuan karakter, plus memikirkan plotnya. Ceritanya sendiri bakal gue tulis libur semester ini.
Dengan berkurangnya kegiatan menulis gue seminggu kedepan, waktu belajar gue pun makin lapang.
*Doain gue rajin belajar biar ujiannya bisa gue selesain dengan mudah yo.
Sampai jumpa seminggu kedepan. Pesan gue : “cacingan? Masi zaman? :P”
Daaaa………!!!!!!!!!!
Terlambat untuk menangis kawan. Sekarang saatnya bangun dan memikirkan solusi. Seharian gue mikir dan akhirnya nemu dua kegiatan yang akan gue lakukan untuk menghadapi ujian blok 8 “aerodinamis” mendatang.
1.Puasa Main-main.
Inilah terobosan terbaru gue. Puasa dari segala kegiatan main-main. Termasuk mainin upil sendiri. Berikut ini adalah daftar kegiatan main-main, yang harus gue hindari di masa-masa pra-exam.
a.Bermain pro evolution soccer.
Gue biasanya main game ini ampe pagi. Kalo libur, gue bakal main seharian ampe laptop gue mendidih. Laptop gue udah bisa deh jadi pengganti microwave. Jadi kalo misalnya gue main game begadang ampe pagi, terus mau kuliah tapi sarapan belon dibuat, yaudah, tinggal taro telor jadi deh tuh mata sapi rasa litium. Haha, parah nih.
Kalo gue ga main ni game, jelas waktu belajar gue pasti lebih banyak.
b.Baca komik lanjutan “Pluto”
Setelah sukses menjalani blok 8 ini dengan dua puluh empat jilid komik “20th century boys”, gue pun nyari komik baru buat dibaca lagi. Dan pilihan gue jatuh ke “Pluto”. Gue udah baca satu volume, dan pengen lanjut. Berhubung sebentar lagi ujian, dan gue sedang ingin melakukan rencana “Puasa main-main” maka, mulai hari ini, sampe selesai ujian, dilarang baca “Pluto”. Ga hanya Pluto, komik lain juga dilarang.
Dengan begitu waktu belajar gue otomatis lebih banyak.
c.Dengerin musik berlebihan.
Berkat pinjaman headset dari Ade, musik jadi ga pernah berhenti berputar ditelinga gue. Gue bisa menghabiskan waktu lebih dari tiga jam untuk bengong sambil dengerin musik. Plus ditambah khayalan-khayalan gue menyanyi diatas panggung gede. Wuahh.
Segala yang berlebihan itu tidak baik. Oleh sebab itu, gue bakal puasa dari kegiatan dengerin musik yang berlebihan.
Otomatis, waktu yang gue punya untuk belajar jadi bertambah.
2.23th Alone boy Project.
Untuk sementara gue libur dulu dari kegiatan tulis menulis. Ujian udah didepan mata. Tapi biar otak gue ga beku, gue berencana buat serial cerita di facebook. (mumpung tren fb belum redup). Judulnya 23th alone boy. Nah, diwaktu dua seminggu pra-exam ini tugas gue Cuma observasi, penentuan karakter, plus memikirkan plotnya. Ceritanya sendiri bakal gue tulis libur semester ini.
Dengan berkurangnya kegiatan menulis gue seminggu kedepan, waktu belajar gue pun makin lapang.
*Doain gue rajin belajar biar ujiannya bisa gue selesain dengan mudah yo.
Sampai jumpa seminggu kedepan. Pesan gue : “cacingan? Masi zaman? :P”
Daaaa………!!!!!!!!!!
Aliran Waktu
Aku kembali ke tahun itu, pertengahan tahun 2010, berjalan menyisiri gedung kuliah fakultas kedokteran gigi dan melihat anak laki-laki berambut pendek turun. Dia mengenakan ransel hitam, agak usang, dan kelihatan penuh. Pandangan matanya berpendar, mungkin sedang menghayati lagu yang ia dengarkan, melalui earphone, entah itu punya sendiri atau hanya meminjam, tetapi dia kelihatan sedang sangat menikmati itu.
“Hei!” Panggilku.
Dia menoleh, diam berdiri.Earphone masih ditelinganya. Aku berlari menghampirinya. Lebih tepatnya, mempercepat langkah.
“Ada apa, Pak?” Tanyanya. Salah satu earphone dilepaskannya dari telinga.
“Tunggu sebentar, kamu mau kemana?” Aku balik bertanya. Keningnya mengerut. Kini mematikan music player di handphonenya. Dia memandangiku curiga.
“Sekarang kan jam makan siang. Mau pergi makan nih. Di kantin.” Jawabnya dengan ekspresi aneh. “bukan di kantin sih, di warung netral, diseberang jalan ini.”
Dia menunjuk jalan diseberang fakultas. Aku memperhatikannya baik-baik, rambut yang tidak disisir rapi, celana jins pudar, dan tali sepatu yang tidak diikat. Agaknya dia sadar diperhatikan terus dari tadi. Ekspresi wajahnya jadi berubah. Semakin menambah aneh raut mukanya, yang cenderung biasa-biasa saja. Aku sedikit terganggu dengan tatapannya itu.
“Kenapa wajahmu begitu?” Tanyaku. “kayak orang bodoh saja?”
“Hah?” dia mundur menjauhkan diri. Sorot matanya penuh tanda Tanya. Aku sudah memberi kesan pertama yang kurang baik. Tapi aku harus menyelesaikan sesuatu disini. Ada yang harus kulakukan di tahun ini. Penting untuk masa depan. Dunia. Duniaku sendiri. Tapi aku tidak tahan. Benar-benar tidak dapat kutahan emosiku untuk mengomentari rambutnya.
“Rambut ini.” Kataku sambil mengacak-acak rambutnya. Dia sigap mengeyahkan tanganku dari kepalanya. Tatapannya waspada. Bahunya tegang, dan dia pasang kuda-kuda. Aku tahu betul, dia tidak menguasai satu pun ilmu bela diri. Jadi mengapa mesti pasang kuda-kuda seperti itu. Apa dulu aku memang sering berbuat konyol seperti ini?
“Mestinya rambut itu kamu rapikan sedikit.” Kataku sambil tersenyum. Dia memegang rambutnya dan memandangku dengan tatapan jengkel.
“Cewek itu suka yang rapi.” Kataku lagi.
“Haa, apaan?” gerungnya. “terlebih lagi, Bapak siapa?”
Rasa hormat sedikit berkurang dari nada suaranya. Aku maklum, tapi identitas tentang siapa diriku harus dirahasiakan. Itu peraturan tertulis dari polisi waktu. Aku dari tadi terus tergoda untuk bicara banyak hal, bicara tentang masa depan, bicara tentang wanita-wanita yang bakal dia temui nantinya. Tapi itu larangan hukum. Ah, bagaimana kalau sedikit saja. Aku mahal-mahal datang kesini. Kebetulan ini tahun 2010, aku ingat dulu sedang berusaha mendekati seseorang. Dengan semangat masa muda aku pun melanggar sedikit hukum waktu.
“Siapa aku? Haha, Ga perlu tahu. Gimana usaha PDKT mu?” Aku berkata seperti itu sambil tertawa jahil. Pasti dia heran mengapa aku bisa tahu tentang hal itu. Ini asyik.
“Haa? Ngomong apa sih?” Wajah bingungnya makin terlihat aneh. “sudah ya Pak, teman-temanku udah nunggu.”
Teman-teman? Aku kembali mengingat beberapa rombongan temanku yang sering makan di warung itu dulu. Siapa saja, aku ingat beberapa, Rezi yang sekarang sudah jadi guru besar di UI, dan.. Fadil. Terakhir kali Fadil kuhubungi, dia sedang liburan di marseille. Dia makin sukses saja. Ridwan, Mike, Putra. Oh ia mereka juga.
“Teman-temanmu itu, salah satunya Rezi kan?
Dia diam.
“Bapak tahu Rezi?” dia bertanya takjub.
“Yaa, sedikit sih.” Jawab gue bokis. “Aku tahu dia itu penggemar white soes and the couples company."
“Wuaa, aku ngerti sekarang. Bapak itu saudaranya Rezi yah?” serunya bersemangat.
Melihat responnya, tiba-tiba aku jadi rindu dengan luapan semangat seperti ini. Salah satu kebanggaanku dulu adalah semangat persahabatan yang tadi dia tunjukan. Hanya dengan sedikit informasi tentang temannya, dia langsung bisa membuka diri hingga ekspresi jengkelnya tadi menghilang. Itu adalah kebiasaan unik yang sekarang sudah ditelan rutinitas kerja.
“Jawab dulu donk pertanyaan tadi. PDKT kamu gimana? haha.”
“PDKT sama siapa? Ah mana ada.”
Aku melihat sekeliling, kebetulan tangga gedung berdekatan dengan kantin fakultas. Kemudian aku menunjuk kearah beberapa anak perempuan yang sedang makan. Dia melongo. Bergantian memandangku dan kumpulan anak perempuan itu.
“Liliput pertama!” kataku. Tersenyum puas. Menikmati setiap raut heran yang keluar dari wajahnya.
“Hiyaaa, Bapak kok tahu semua sih?” Tanyanya. Sikapnya sekarang seperti sikap orang yang sedang berhadapan dengan peramal.
Aku bisa saja menjawab kalau aku dari masa depan, menaiki mesin waktu, dan bilang kalau aku tahu semua yang akan terjadi seterusnya. Aku ingin membuat dia penasaran lebih besar lagi. Tapi selain Hukum waktu yang melarang, apa dia akan percaya begitu saja? Butuh waktu untuk menjelaskannya. Menjelaskan tentang masa depan dengan banyak kemajuan yang tak terduga. Aku tidak punya banyak waktu untuk menjelaskan hal itu. Hukum waktu hanya memberi izin satu jam untuk kembali ke masa lalu, itupun hanya untuk satu kali kesempatan.
“Aku baca blogmu!” kataku kepadanya. Aku rasa itu jawaban yang paling pas. Aku tidak mungkin lupa akan tulisan-tulisan di blog karena sampai sekarang pun aku masih rutin menulis disitu.
“Waw, beneran?” kali ini luapan bahagia memancar dari suaranya. Yah, blogger selalu bahagia tiap kali ada orang yang membaca blognya. “Terima kasih ya.” Ucapnya.
“Terus gimana?” Tanyaku lagi. Aku harap dia bisa terbuka kepada dirinya sendiri. Yang sekarang berada dihadapannya.
“Apanya?”
“Jangan pura-pura bodoh.” Kataku pelan. Kemudian menggiring pandangannya kearah beberapa anak perempuan itu.
“Oh..” Katanya.
“Tahu kan?” Kini kami sama-sama memandang kearah anak-anak perempuan itu. Terpusat pada satu orang. Liliput pertama. “Jangan kayak pengecut. Dekati sana. Sebelum keduluan.”
Dia diam. Wajahnya ragu. Makin kelihatan abstrak.
“Aku gak yakin dia bakalan suka.” Katanya lirih
.
“Coba saja. Nanti menyesal seumur hidup lo.” Kataku sambil menepuk pelan pundaknya. “Apapun hasilnya, yang penting kamu ga menyesal gara-gara telah bertingkah seperti pengecut.”
“Ada ide?” Tanyanya kepadaku. “Aku kehabisan akal untuk mendekatinya.”
Sekarang, malah aku yang tidak bisa berkata-kata. Melihat diri sendiri yang diliputi keputusasaan seperti ini, hhh, benar-benar tidak tahu harus berbuat apa.
“Kamu jangan menyerah!” nasehatku. Cuma itu yang bisa aku katakan.
Dia hanya melenguh pelan. Memasang earphone kembali ketelinganya. “Tenang saja!” katanya datar. “Aku tahu bagaimana cara keluar dari kegalauan.”
Mendengarkan musik. Yah, dulu itu senjataku untuk bertahan dari suasana hati yang buruk. Tentu saja lagu-lagu bertempo tinggi yang melarang pikiran untuk mengeluh terlalu lama.
“Kamu denger apa?” Tanyaku. Sedikit penasaran, kira-kira pada tahun ini aku dulu suka lagu apa ya.
“Younha.” Jawabnya. “tau nggak. ‘Ima Ga daisuki’ Judulnya. Semangat masa muda”
Kemudian aku mendengar dia menyanyikan lagi itu. Fals.
“Let's do whatever we can do only now, Uoo since the tomorrow is a result of what happens today! Uoo Really love it now, Hiiyaa.”
Aku senyum tertahan. Itulah mengapa aku ingin kembali kemasa ini. Ingin melihat semangat yang telah hilang ditelan usia. Ingin melihat bagaimana dulu aku mengatasi semua masalah dengan cara-cara yang kreatif.
Kemudian dia pun asyik terbuai dengan lagu yang didengarnya. Tidak lagi memperhatikan keberadaanku.
“Bertahanlah!” Ucapku berat. Entah dia dengar atau tidak. “Mulai dari sini, banyak hal-hal besar yang akan terjadi.”
Aku kemudian beranjak pergi meninggalkannya.Sadar akan satu hal. Tidak ada yang bisa kita lakukan untuk mengubah apa yang telah kita lalui. Kesalahan yang kita lakukan, ataupun waktu yang kita buang. Bahkan dengan mesin waktu sekalipun.
Aku kembali menaiki mesin waktu. Masih banyak pekerjaan yang harus dilakukan. Dan aku tidak ingin di tahun-tahun kedepannya ada hal yang kusesali, lagi.
. . . . .
*Keterangan.
Aku : Fauzi di 26 Mei 2023 menggunakan mesin waktu.
Dia : Fauzi di 26 Mei 2010
Rethinking The Best Director Nominations For 1932-33
As he frequently does, Erik Beck (of the Boston Becks) got me to thinking, this time about the director nom- inations for 1932-33. There were some names that got left off the list that in nearly any other year would have made it easily—Mervyn LeRoy, James Whale, Frank Capra, and others. And you know how I hate to leave anybody out.
Well, there is precedent from the Academy itself for a solution. At the very first Oscars, there were two prizes for best director—one for best director of a drama, one for best director of a comedy. How about, on a one time only basis, two best director trophies? We could throw Whale (The Invisible Man and The Old Dark House), LeRoy (I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang and Gold Diggers Of 1933), Capra (The Bitter Tea Of General Yen) and one other name into the drama category with Cooper and Schoedsack (King Kong); and Cukor, Lubitsch, McCarey, Renoir and one other name into the comedy category.
Or are there just too goshdarn many Katie Awards already? You're not going to hurt my feelings.
Any thoughts on the other potential nominees? If you need some suggestions, how about:
Lloyd Bacon (42nd Street and Footlight Parade) (musical/comedy)
* Carl Theodor Dreyer (Vampyr) (drama)
Victor Fleming (Red Dust and Bombshell) (drama or comedy)
Alexander Korda (The Private Life Of Henry VIII) (drama) (sort of)
* Fritz Lang (The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse) (drama)
Rouben Mamoulian (Love Me Tonight and Queen Christina) (comedy or drama)
Max Ophüls (Liebelei) (drama)
Jean Vigo (Zero For Conduct) (comedy)
... or anybody else who had a picture released between August 1, 1932 and December 31, 1933. [*—previous winner]
Think about it for a couple of days, leave a comment, speak your mind. I wasn't planning to post my essay on the best director of 1932-33 until the end of the week anyway.
Well, there is precedent from the Academy itself for a solution. At the very first Oscars, there were two prizes for best director—one for best director of a drama, one for best director of a comedy. How about, on a one time only basis, two best director trophies? We could throw Whale (The Invisible Man and The Old Dark House), LeRoy (I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang and Gold Diggers Of 1933), Capra (The Bitter Tea Of General Yen) and one other name into the drama category with Cooper and Schoedsack (King Kong); and Cukor, Lubitsch, McCarey, Renoir and one other name into the comedy category.
Or are there just too goshdarn many Katie Awards already? You're not going to hurt my feelings.
Any thoughts on the other potential nominees? If you need some suggestions, how about:
Lloyd Bacon (42nd Street and Footlight Parade) (musical/comedy)
* Carl Theodor Dreyer (Vampyr) (drama)
Victor Fleming (Red Dust and Bombshell) (drama or comedy)
Alexander Korda (The Private Life Of Henry VIII) (drama) (sort of)
* Fritz Lang (The Testament Of Dr. Mabuse) (drama)
Rouben Mamoulian (Love Me Tonight and Queen Christina) (comedy or drama)
Max Ophüls (Liebelei) (drama)
Jean Vigo (Zero For Conduct) (comedy)
... or anybody else who had a picture released between August 1, 1932 and December 31, 1933. [*—previous winner]
Think about it for a couple of days, leave a comment, speak your mind. I wasn't planning to post my essay on the best director of 1932-33 until the end of the week anyway.
Nominees For Best Director Of 1932-33
Friday, May 28, 2010
Best Supporting Actor Of 1932-33: John Barrymore (Dinner At Eight)
Many actors have laid claim to the title of the Biggest Ham in Hollywood over the years—Wallace Beery, Christopher Walken, William Shatner, Jack Nicholson, even Laurence Olivier when he was bored and phoning it in—but few at their peak were as deliciously hammy as John Barrymore.
Bad ham acting takes no especial skill other than a lack of talent and self-awareness, and bad ham actors, whose numbers would fill a football stadium, take you right out of the action, start you looking for the exits and are either quickly forgotten or wind up making miniseries on the Lifetime Channel. "[A] bad ham actor," writes "Greg" at Cinema Styles, "is a bad actor period, someone who overplays, overemotes and overinflects every move, tear and shout. They're bad, they don't know how to do anything else.
"But a great ham actor is also a great actor who is in possession of so much skill and talent they know when to go over the top and how far to take it."
Great ham acting is an underappreciated art form and great ham actors, so few we can nearly name them all, last for years, energize the mundane, create a giddy sense of the possible. And with Dinner At Eight, John Barrymore put the capstone on a career that featured some of the best ham acting in the history of Hollywood. His Larry Renault—like Barrymore, an alcoholic ham on the downside of his career—was, as TV Guide put it in its 5-star review, "a bitchy casting idea, chilling to watch," but Barrymore was open to taking himself to task on screen, and though it was all downhill after this, he played the part to perfection.
The action opens as Park Avenue socialite Millicent Jordan (Billie Burke, in a performance that would establish her chirpy screen persona) frantically puts the finishing touches on an important dinner party she's planned for that evening. Absorbed with trivial worries about aspic and ice sculptures, she's oblivious to the crises mounting around her—her ailing husband (Lionel Barrymore) finds himself on the verge of losing everything to a rapacious tycoon (a particularly boorish Wallace Beery), her daughter is about to marry a man she no longer loves, and old friend Carlotta Vance (Marie Dressler), an over-the-hill actress, needs money fast.
Add to the list of the desperate a last-minute substitution on the guest list, Larry Renault (John Barrymore), a one-time silent film star now fallen on hard times thanks to his outsized ego and fondness for the bottle. Reduced to pawning his cufflinks for cabfare, he's in New York hoping to make a comeback on the Broadway stage. "The play's not much," he says, "but I think I can put it over. I play the only male character," then shrugs, "oh, there's a small male part for a bit actor ... but I dominate that."
Perhaps you can guess how this is going to turn out for him, even if he can't.
Dinner At Eight is usually billed as a comedy, and it is, but only in the same sense that Anton Chekhov's masterpiece of endless Russian gloom, The Cherry Orchard, is a comedy. That is, it's a tragedy about foolish people in relentless pursuit of the ephemeral, behaving as if they'll live forever and discovering too late that they won't. You see this same comedy played out, in high places and in low, every day, and always with the same ending.
The cast of characters neatly divides into those who, either through careless living or bad luck, find themselves at the end of their ropes; and those who prey upon them, both wittingly (Beery) and unwittingly (Burke). (That Jean Harlow, playing a low-rent Billie Burke in training, proves to be an angel of mercy for one of these desperate souls gives us the only hopeful moment in the entire movie.)
In the self-contained universe of the New York blue bloods who populate Dinner At Eight, it perhaps shouldn't come as a surprise that Renault is sleeping with Mrs. Jordan's nineteen year old daughter Paula (Madge Evans in a part originally offered to Joan Crawford). For her, Renault represents a chance to escape the spiritually-empty and empty-headed future her mother has so carefully planned for her; but for him, Paula is a last taste of the life he has wasted and she's too young to understand why he feels only anxiety when what she feels is bliss.
"You're young and fresh," he tells her, "and I'm burned out."
For Renault, it's an all-too-infrequent moment of clarity that lends poignancy to his plight—it's one thing to spiral into the abyss in ignorance, quite another to watch yourself do it—and Barrymore is at his best in these moments, quiet, still, a great actor inhabiting a burned-out shell without resorting to showy actor tricks. Then as Renault puffs himself up with self-pity, paranoia and memories of past glory, Barrymore reaches for just those hammy touches that a bad actor would use on a stage when playing a part too big for his talent.
Ultimately, the moral of Dinner At Eight is "adapt or die," a timely message in 1933 for both out-of-work actors and a nation suffering through the fourth year of the Great Depression, but advice Renault is incapable of following. He may be a high-functioning alcoholic, immaculately dressed and able dip into his bag of acting tricks just enough to fuddle his way through a speech or two—watch Barrymore dial up the ham factor as he demonstrates Renault's "acting" ability—but he can't keep his delusions of grandeur in check and, like a man on a ledge with an uncontrollable urge to jump, each moment of clarity turns into self-pity and another excuse to take a drink.
Whether the bottle has kept him from acclimating or he turned to the bottle because he couldn't (it doesn't really matter; an alcoholic doesn't need a reason to drink), Renault is a man frozen in time. He still fancies himself an "important artist," a matinee idol, a big name. "$8000 a week is what I got," he says, "and I was gonna get ten until the talkies came in, so don't think you're doing me a favor by asking me to play in your ratty little show because I'm doing you one." But the sad fact is, he's a forgotten has-been and when he finally grasps the truth, it's brutal to watch.
"Look at those pouches under your eyes," says his long-suffering agent, steering Renault to the mirror. "Look at those creases. You sag like an old woman. ... You're a corpse, and you don't know it. Go get yourself buried."
Barrymore's Renault is by turns buffoonish, arrogant, reflective, bullying, anxious, humiliated, and ultimately, by remaining true to his idea of himself to the very end, somehow heroic. In a contemporaneous review of Dinner At Eight, Variety heralded Barrymore's performance as "a stark, uncompromising treatment of a pretty thorough-going blackguard and ingrate."
Recent reviews have echoed the sentiment: "John Barrymore is beautiful as the only honest man in the entire picture." (Movie Reviews UK) Renault is "played with the right touch of self-centered clownishness to undercut the pathos." (Slant Magazine) Barrymore's Renault, "the Profile in winter [is a] small, honest portrait of reaching the end of your tether." (Bright Lights Film Journal)
And me? I think it's possibly the best portrayal of an alcoholic in the movies before Ray Milland's Oscar-winning turn in The Lost Weekend twelve years later, certainly one of the few serious ones at a time when alcoholics in movies were almost always treated as comic relief. And as a portrait of a man at the end of his rope, Barrymore's performance would make a terrific double feature with his work from the year before in another glamorous MGM ensemble piece, Grand Hotel.
Director George Cukor later said of Barrymore that he had no vanity and noted that many of the ideas for Renault's character came from Barrymore himself:
"[Renault] found out that another actor got the job that he desperately needed," Cukor recalled, "And he'd say, 'I can be English. I can be as English as ahnybohdy.' Then he'd say, 'Ibsen, Ibsen. I can do Ibsen,' and he had just heard vaguely of Ibsen, and he would strike this absolutely inappropriate pose and he said, 'Mother dear, give me the moon.' Whereas the Ibsen line was, 'Mother, give me the sun'—to show that he'd gone over, he'd become mad.'"
Yet as good as Barrymore's performance was, it almost didn't happen.
According to Frank Miller, writing for Turner Classic Movies, MGM Studio chief Louis B. Mayer objected to the casting of Barrymore. "He was worried about Barrymore's drinking and erratic behavior," Miller writes, "but Cukor assured him that they had developed a good working relationship on A Bill of Divorcement (1932). On the set of Dinner at Eight Barrymore was cooperative and helpful. Far from resisting comparisons between himself and his character, a fading matinee idol succumbing to alcoholism, he suggested playing up the similarities. At his instigation, [Frances] Marion and co-writer Herman J. Mankiewicz added references to his profile and his three wives. On the set, he even improvised imitations of faded actors he'd run into in New York."
Born John Sidney Blyth in Philadelphia in 1882, John Barrymore was the youngest sibling of an acting dynasty that included Oscar-winners Lionel and Ethel (they took their stage name from their father, who performed as Maurice Barrymore). While Lionel and Ethel took to the stage at an early age, John began as a painter, and only followed his siblings into acting at their urging. Despite his late start, he was a major Broadway star by 1909. His Broadway performance in the title role of Hamlet in 1922 purports to be one of the best in history although no recording of it exists and recreations nearly two decades on are marred by Barrymore's shameless mugging.
Although he may have appeared in films as early as 1912, his first confirmed role was in An American Citizen in 1914. Known as "The Great Profile," Barrymore was a star throughout the silent era, appearing in such films as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920), Sherlock Holmes (1922), Beau Brummel (1924) and Don Juan (1926).
Barrymore made the transition to talkies successfully, and I'm not convinced playwrights George Kaufman and Edna Ferber (Marion and Mankiewicz handled the screenplay chores) had Barrymore in mind when they wrote the part—he was still a star even if his drinking and ego were already the stuff of legend, and the story of the silent era matinee idol reduced to penury with the coming of the talkies was so commonplace as to be a cliche. Still, I couldn't help wondering as he studied his aging, alcohol-ravaged face in that last, painful scene, whether Barrymore saw his own future writ large in the mirror.
Aside from his terrible thirst, I get the impression Barrymore's biggest problem was not so much an oversized ego, as a lack of regard for the art of motion pictures—much like Marlon Brando after him, he rarely thought of the movies he made as worth the effort. "Watching Barrymore on screen," Dan Callahan wrote, "we are always waiting to see whether he will engage with his material; if he does, he's capable of large-spirited magic, and if he doesn't, he merely moves his face and pops his eyes, wearily, as if he's trying to be amused."
"My memory is full of beauty," Barrymore once quipped, explaining why he hadn't bothered to learn his lines before filming a scene, "Hamlet's soliloquies, the Queen Mab speech, King Magnus' monologue from The Apple Cart, most of the Sonnets. Do you expect me to clutter up all that with this horseshit?"
For a while at least, until the effects of indolence and alcohol caught up with him, Barrymore could still reach down for worthy films such as Grand Hotel, A Bill Of Divorcement, Counsellor-at-Law and Dinner at Eight and produced a good performance. The rest of the time, though, he was content to give the people what they wanted, a parody of himself.
"I like to be introduced as America's foremost actor. It saves the necessity of further effort."
John Barrymore died in 1942 of pneumonia as a complication of cirrhosis of the liver. He was sixty years old.
[To read my take on Jean Harlow's performance in Dinner At Eight, click here.]
Bad ham acting takes no especial skill other than a lack of talent and self-awareness, and bad ham actors, whose numbers would fill a football stadium, take you right out of the action, start you looking for the exits and are either quickly forgotten or wind up making miniseries on the Lifetime Channel. "[A] bad ham actor," writes "Greg" at Cinema Styles, "is a bad actor period, someone who overplays, overemotes and overinflects every move, tear and shout. They're bad, they don't know how to do anything else.
"But a great ham actor is also a great actor who is in possession of so much skill and talent they know when to go over the top and how far to take it."
Great ham acting is an underappreciated art form and great ham actors, so few we can nearly name them all, last for years, energize the mundane, create a giddy sense of the possible. And with Dinner At Eight, John Barrymore put the capstone on a career that featured some of the best ham acting in the history of Hollywood. His Larry Renault—like Barrymore, an alcoholic ham on the downside of his career—was, as TV Guide put it in its 5-star review, "a bitchy casting idea, chilling to watch," but Barrymore was open to taking himself to task on screen, and though it was all downhill after this, he played the part to perfection.
The action opens as Park Avenue socialite Millicent Jordan (Billie Burke, in a performance that would establish her chirpy screen persona) frantically puts the finishing touches on an important dinner party she's planned for that evening. Absorbed with trivial worries about aspic and ice sculptures, she's oblivious to the crises mounting around her—her ailing husband (Lionel Barrymore) finds himself on the verge of losing everything to a rapacious tycoon (a particularly boorish Wallace Beery), her daughter is about to marry a man she no longer loves, and old friend Carlotta Vance (Marie Dressler), an over-the-hill actress, needs money fast.
Add to the list of the desperate a last-minute substitution on the guest list, Larry Renault (John Barrymore), a one-time silent film star now fallen on hard times thanks to his outsized ego and fondness for the bottle. Reduced to pawning his cufflinks for cabfare, he's in New York hoping to make a comeback on the Broadway stage. "The play's not much," he says, "but I think I can put it over. I play the only male character," then shrugs, "oh, there's a small male part for a bit actor ... but I dominate that."
Perhaps you can guess how this is going to turn out for him, even if he can't.
Dinner At Eight is usually billed as a comedy, and it is, but only in the same sense that Anton Chekhov's masterpiece of endless Russian gloom, The Cherry Orchard, is a comedy. That is, it's a tragedy about foolish people in relentless pursuit of the ephemeral, behaving as if they'll live forever and discovering too late that they won't. You see this same comedy played out, in high places and in low, every day, and always with the same ending.
The cast of characters neatly divides into those who, either through careless living or bad luck, find themselves at the end of their ropes; and those who prey upon them, both wittingly (Beery) and unwittingly (Burke). (That Jean Harlow, playing a low-rent Billie Burke in training, proves to be an angel of mercy for one of these desperate souls gives us the only hopeful moment in the entire movie.)
In the self-contained universe of the New York blue bloods who populate Dinner At Eight, it perhaps shouldn't come as a surprise that Renault is sleeping with Mrs. Jordan's nineteen year old daughter Paula (Madge Evans in a part originally offered to Joan Crawford). For her, Renault represents a chance to escape the spiritually-empty and empty-headed future her mother has so carefully planned for her; but for him, Paula is a last taste of the life he has wasted and she's too young to understand why he feels only anxiety when what she feels is bliss.
"You're young and fresh," he tells her, "and I'm burned out."
For Renault, it's an all-too-infrequent moment of clarity that lends poignancy to his plight—it's one thing to spiral into the abyss in ignorance, quite another to watch yourself do it—and Barrymore is at his best in these moments, quiet, still, a great actor inhabiting a burned-out shell without resorting to showy actor tricks. Then as Renault puffs himself up with self-pity, paranoia and memories of past glory, Barrymore reaches for just those hammy touches that a bad actor would use on a stage when playing a part too big for his talent.
Ultimately, the moral of Dinner At Eight is "adapt or die," a timely message in 1933 for both out-of-work actors and a nation suffering through the fourth year of the Great Depression, but advice Renault is incapable of following. He may be a high-functioning alcoholic, immaculately dressed and able dip into his bag of acting tricks just enough to fuddle his way through a speech or two—watch Barrymore dial up the ham factor as he demonstrates Renault's "acting" ability—but he can't keep his delusions of grandeur in check and, like a man on a ledge with an uncontrollable urge to jump, each moment of clarity turns into self-pity and another excuse to take a drink.
Whether the bottle has kept him from acclimating or he turned to the bottle because he couldn't (it doesn't really matter; an alcoholic doesn't need a reason to drink), Renault is a man frozen in time. He still fancies himself an "important artist," a matinee idol, a big name. "$8000 a week is what I got," he says, "and I was gonna get ten until the talkies came in, so don't think you're doing me a favor by asking me to play in your ratty little show because I'm doing you one." But the sad fact is, he's a forgotten has-been and when he finally grasps the truth, it's brutal to watch.
"Look at those pouches under your eyes," says his long-suffering agent, steering Renault to the mirror. "Look at those creases. You sag like an old woman. ... You're a corpse, and you don't know it. Go get yourself buried."
Barrymore's Renault is by turns buffoonish, arrogant, reflective, bullying, anxious, humiliated, and ultimately, by remaining true to his idea of himself to the very end, somehow heroic. In a contemporaneous review of Dinner At Eight, Variety heralded Barrymore's performance as "a stark, uncompromising treatment of a pretty thorough-going blackguard and ingrate."
Recent reviews have echoed the sentiment: "John Barrymore is beautiful as the only honest man in the entire picture." (Movie Reviews UK) Renault is "played with the right touch of self-centered clownishness to undercut the pathos." (Slant Magazine) Barrymore's Renault, "the Profile in winter [is a] small, honest portrait of reaching the end of your tether." (Bright Lights Film Journal)
And me? I think it's possibly the best portrayal of an alcoholic in the movies before Ray Milland's Oscar-winning turn in The Lost Weekend twelve years later, certainly one of the few serious ones at a time when alcoholics in movies were almost always treated as comic relief. And as a portrait of a man at the end of his rope, Barrymore's performance would make a terrific double feature with his work from the year before in another glamorous MGM ensemble piece, Grand Hotel.
Director George Cukor later said of Barrymore that he had no vanity and noted that many of the ideas for Renault's character came from Barrymore himself:
"[Renault] found out that another actor got the job that he desperately needed," Cukor recalled, "And he'd say, 'I can be English. I can be as English as ahnybohdy.' Then he'd say, 'Ibsen, Ibsen. I can do Ibsen,' and he had just heard vaguely of Ibsen, and he would strike this absolutely inappropriate pose and he said, 'Mother dear, give me the moon.' Whereas the Ibsen line was, 'Mother, give me the sun'—to show that he'd gone over, he'd become mad.'"
Yet as good as Barrymore's performance was, it almost didn't happen.
According to Frank Miller, writing for Turner Classic Movies, MGM Studio chief Louis B. Mayer objected to the casting of Barrymore. "He was worried about Barrymore's drinking and erratic behavior," Miller writes, "but Cukor assured him that they had developed a good working relationship on A Bill of Divorcement (1932). On the set of Dinner at Eight Barrymore was cooperative and helpful. Far from resisting comparisons between himself and his character, a fading matinee idol succumbing to alcoholism, he suggested playing up the similarities. At his instigation, [Frances] Marion and co-writer Herman J. Mankiewicz added references to his profile and his three wives. On the set, he even improvised imitations of faded actors he'd run into in New York."
Born John Sidney Blyth in Philadelphia in 1882, John Barrymore was the youngest sibling of an acting dynasty that included Oscar-winners Lionel and Ethel (they took their stage name from their father, who performed as Maurice Barrymore). While Lionel and Ethel took to the stage at an early age, John began as a painter, and only followed his siblings into acting at their urging. Despite his late start, he was a major Broadway star by 1909. His Broadway performance in the title role of Hamlet in 1922 purports to be one of the best in history although no recording of it exists and recreations nearly two decades on are marred by Barrymore's shameless mugging.
Although he may have appeared in films as early as 1912, his first confirmed role was in An American Citizen in 1914. Known as "The Great Profile," Barrymore was a star throughout the silent era, appearing in such films as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920), Sherlock Holmes (1922), Beau Brummel (1924) and Don Juan (1926).
Barrymore made the transition to talkies successfully, and I'm not convinced playwrights George Kaufman and Edna Ferber (Marion and Mankiewicz handled the screenplay chores) had Barrymore in mind when they wrote the part—he was still a star even if his drinking and ego were already the stuff of legend, and the story of the silent era matinee idol reduced to penury with the coming of the talkies was so commonplace as to be a cliche. Still, I couldn't help wondering as he studied his aging, alcohol-ravaged face in that last, painful scene, whether Barrymore saw his own future writ large in the mirror.
Aside from his terrible thirst, I get the impression Barrymore's biggest problem was not so much an oversized ego, as a lack of regard for the art of motion pictures—much like Marlon Brando after him, he rarely thought of the movies he made as worth the effort. "Watching Barrymore on screen," Dan Callahan wrote, "we are always waiting to see whether he will engage with his material; if he does, he's capable of large-spirited magic, and if he doesn't, he merely moves his face and pops his eyes, wearily, as if he's trying to be amused."
"My memory is full of beauty," Barrymore once quipped, explaining why he hadn't bothered to learn his lines before filming a scene, "Hamlet's soliloquies, the Queen Mab speech, King Magnus' monologue from The Apple Cart, most of the Sonnets. Do you expect me to clutter up all that with this horseshit?"
For a while at least, until the effects of indolence and alcohol caught up with him, Barrymore could still reach down for worthy films such as Grand Hotel, A Bill Of Divorcement, Counsellor-at-Law and Dinner at Eight and produced a good performance. The rest of the time, though, he was content to give the people what they wanted, a parody of himself.
"I like to be introduced as America's foremost actor. It saves the necessity of further effort."
John Barrymore died in 1942 of pneumonia as a complication of cirrhosis of the liver. He was sixty years old.
[To read my take on Jean Harlow's performance in Dinner At Eight, click here.]
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Bhavana Tamil Actress Hot New Wallpapers, Sexy Photos, Pictures Gallery
Bhavana is a hot, beautiful and sexy south indian actress who is in the bandwagon of actresses from malayalam who have become popular in other languages after turning glamorous. Bhavana has now become extremly hot. She born Karthika Menon on June the 6th, 1986. Bhavana's real name is Karthika Menon. The real name of Bhavana is Karthika. Her First Film In Malayalam was Nammal and after that she has acted in many Malayalam hit movies like Chronic Bachelor, Thilakkam, CID Moosa, Swapnakoodu, Chandupottu, Naran, Chintamani Kolacase and Chess. Here is Hot and Spicy photos of Latest Bhanava Tamil ACtress, Bhavana Tamil Actress Hot New Wallpapers, sexy Photos, Pictures gallery.
Another Good Reason ...
In case you've never stopped by Film Noir Photos before, here's another example of why it's on my every day to-do list—a spectacular photo of Katie Award nominee Kay Francis:
I'm working away on my essay for best supporting actor of 1932-33. Should have it up today, or tomorrow at the latest.
I'm working away on my essay for best supporting actor of 1932-33. Should have it up today, or tomorrow at the latest.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Myanmar Model, Chan Chan's Beautiful Outdoor Fashion Photos
Myanmar Lovely Model, Thiri Shinn That with Pretty Red Fashion Dress
Myanmar Model, Thiri Shinn Thant with Burmse Wedding Dress
Myanmar popular model, Phway Phway's Beautiful Fashion Photos
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