On DVD, Unholy, Animals And All That Jazz

Since vacationing in Pennsylvania and New York City (and the drama of Lindsaygate) I’ve been a little off the radar when it comes to DVD releases. All I can think about is the newest, enormous Warner Brothers Noir Set, the Criterion Edition of Billy Wilder’s masterpiece Ace in the Hole, Zodiac and The Host.

Check out my Film and DVD reviews at Strange Impersonation and anything else I'm thinking at Pretty Poison.

As for now, Three Obsessions:

1. The Unholy Three (1925, 1930)  I wrote a story on creepy dummy movies (a small but intriguing genre) which led me to both versions of this picture. They were so unsettling that director Tod Browning decided to make them twice—and with the same cast. Though the movies (one silent, the other most famously Lon Chaney’s first and only talking picture) aren’t technically dummy stories, ventriloquism plays such a key role in the picture’s dirty deeds that it can’t be ignored. Discussing the talkie--the ventriloquist here is named Echo (Lon Chaney—whom I revere), a man who forms the triad of unholy thieves with Hercules (Ivan Linow) the strong man, and Tweedledee (Harry Earles) the midget, after their carnival is closed down. Disguising themselves to scam people, Tweedledee dresses up as a baby, with a pretty pickpocket named Rosie (Lila Lee) playing his mother while, in the picture’s most impressive twist, Echo disguises himself as a little old lady named Mrs. O'Grady. Working a pet shop, Echo throws his voice to sell "talking" parrots among other misdeeds. Though the silent version is considered the superior film, the talkie is interesting, graced by the presence of that genius Chaney. It’s especially tragic that his last role was in a talkie, proving the brilliant man had a career ahead of him outside of silent pictures. Still, it’s the silent version that boasts the picture’s scary/sad ventriloquist ending in which Echo’s dummy bids an sad farewell.

2. Day of the Animals (1977)  I love it when Leslie Nielsen goes berserk—and not as a joke. And he goes so damn berserk in this movie that you really do sympathize with all the crazed animals lurking about. I suppose you could call Day of the Animals a silly movie but while being loads of fun it, I swear to God, really does tackle some serious issues—chiefly, our depleted ozone layer (and in 1973) which causes all the animals to go bat-shit crazy. The animal’s ire doesn’t bode well with the unlucky group of backpackers blithely attempting to enjoy their day hike, also unaware of just how freaking nuts Leslie Nielsen is. Now I’ve heard that this picture might be re-made, which, in this age of An Inconvenient Truth, makes a lot of sense. I only hope they cast Nielsen again (or perhaps Al Gore). But I’d really love to hear Neilsen bellow:  “My father who art in heaven you've a made a jack ass out of me for years… You see what you want you take. You take it! And I am going to do just that!” To Nielsen, this means rape, of course, as Neilsen is becoming an animal himself. Of course.

3. All That Jazz (1979)  I’ve got this thing for Bob Fosse. Bad. I’ve read everything I can get my hands on about the womanizing dancer/choreographer/director/innovator and he never fails to fascinate. But I always wonder if my love for the man, the ultimate macho fey (and there’s not many of those out there) is really based on Roy Scheider playing Fosse’s alter ego Joe Gideon in All that Jazz. Scheider is so bad and good and sexy and human, and he can move (and God, how I adore those black pants and black boots). I love his whole, greet the day—“It’s Show Time folks!”  after his daily ritual of showering, popping Dexedrine, and facing his still sinewy and handsome but now grizzled image in the mirror every morning. And indeed, Gideon’s life is all about the show, something that blends into his waking life with such a blur that he even dreams of his own death as a musical number (or is it a dream?). Fosse’s direction is brave and vain all at once in this autobiographical tale of a womanizing movie maker and choreographer who’s balancing the tasks of making a motion picture, auditioning dancers for a show and juggling girlfriends. And then there’s his actual health, and morbid fascinating with his upcoming real life death. Incredibly revealing and brilliantly directed, you won’t know whether to smile or cry at the end number of “Bye Bye Life” (that moment puts me in such a state). Fosse wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Comments

[Erich K.]

That "Bye Bye Life" number is my all time favorite cinematic moment anytime, anywhere. For a long time it was the only part of ALL THAT JAZZ that I knew, because it ran before CONAN THE BARBARIAN on a videotape I'd made off early 80s HBO and watched about 1000 times. What a double feature, and how great it was as a stand-alone short film! I learned it was possible to choreograph your own death, to weep at your own funeral, and to glide off into the sunrise with Jessica Lange while vaguely sensing somewhere far below the stage they were carting your old coccoon away. Thanks also, Kim, for the words "macho fey" since I think it applies to me! The world needs more straight choreographers like Fosse, transvestites (like Ed Wood!) and needlepoint enthusiasts like Rosie Greer!

[Ogami Itto]

I've seen "Day of the Animals" about a dozen times over the years, and I love the scene where a bare-chested Leslie Nielsen wrestles a f---ing grizzly bear!

And the movie had Michael Ansara as a Native American. Cool.

[anne]

All That Jazz is one of my all-time favorites, great to see it mentioned here. Glad to see someone else found Roy Scheider hot at some point!

[m]

I have the DVD. It's the boots, I think.

Plus those of us who have theatrical/musical dads know what it means to be told "follow my hand".

"Macho fey". Nailed it.