Saturday Matinee: Over the Edge

“Over The Edge”: The 1979 teen angst film that introduced a generation to Rockford, Illinois’s Cheap Trick

By Brian Thomas

Source: Night Flight

We’ll get to Cheap Trick’s contributions to the soundtrack in a moment, but first let’s take a look back at the film itself. When Over The Edge was released to just a handful of theaters in May 1979, the relatively new Orion movie company’s first poster and marketing campaign for the film — featuring pale kids with empty eyes, looking like zombies — got it very wrong, very wrong, making it look like they were promoting a horror movie.

Orion — the new film finance and production company had been launched in March 1978 — had been formed by five former United Artists film execs, who named their new company after a constellation that contains five clearly visible stars, and despite their confidence, they weren’t too sure-footed as a stand-alone company yet, and like any new movie company, they wanted their first release to be a hit.

Originally, they’d slated another film — director George Roy Hill’s A Little Romance — to be their first release, and Over The Edge was to be their second released in 1979.

Executives at Orion, however, were initially troubled by some of the violence they’d read in the script (there really isn’t much dude-on-dude violence, though) and they wanted the screenwriters to tone it down, and make it into a kind of Romeo & Juliet love story amid a larger story of disenfranchised youth, but the writers held firm to their original concept (originally it was titled On The Edge).

Written by screenwriter Tim Hunter — son of blacklisted screenwriter Ian McClellan Hunter — and Charles Haas, a fellow screenwriter and one of Hunter’s former film history students at UC Santa Cruz, Over The Edge was inspired by a newspaper article about the then-recent uptick in juvenile crime in Foster City, an upper-middle class planned suburb located about halfway between Palo Alto and San Francisco in Northern California, not too far from the San Francisco Airport.

The story — headlined “Mousepacks: Kids on a Crime Spree” — had been published in the November 11, 1973 edition of the San Francisco Examiner, written by reporters Bruce Koon and James Finefrock.

Writer Mike Sacks’s excellent oral history for VICE remains thus far the most definitive essay and oral history about Over The Edge, and we encourage you to check it out, since it contained just about everything you’d want to know about the film itself, and featured interviews with twenty members of the cast and crew.

Sacks quotes from the original newspaper article in his piece for VICE:

Mousepacks. Gangs of youngsters, some as young as nine, on a rampage through a suburban town. One on a bike pours gasoline from a gallon can and sets it afire. Lead pipe bombs explode in park restrooms. Spray paint and obscenities smear a shopping center wall. Two homes are set ablaze. Antennas by the hundreds are snapped off parked cars in a single night. Liquid cement clogs public sinks and water fountains. Street lights are snuffed out with BB guns so often they are no longer replaced. It sounds like the scenario for an underage Clockwork Orange, a futuristic nightmare fantasy. But all the incidents are true. They happened in Foster City where pre-teenage gangs—mousepacks—constitute one of the city’s major crime problems.”

The original article detailed how teens had gone into a local junior high gymnasium — probably Nathaniel Bowditch Middle School — and destroyed pool tables and ping-pong tables, and the vandalism had led to the cancellation of programs that were sponsored by the Foster City parks department.

This kind of vandalism was directly related to the fact that the city planners who had designed the ideal communities like Foster City had thought of everything for the adults, but they forgot the fact that at least 25% of the population moving into these pre-fab cities were under the age of 25.

They were given pool and ping-pong tables at the gym, and lame recreation centers that closed at 6pm, but everything was so new and fake-looking it inspired the teens to want to destroy it.

And so, the kids of Foster City felt isolated, restless and bored out of their minds, which is what led to them spending their evenings drinking and getting high, breaking and entering, and vandalizing city property.

Hunter’s and Haas’s screenplay reflected this adolescent ennui perfectly, showing how the design and planning of their pre-fab city New Granada (in place of Foster City) actually plays a part, like a character itself, in how these teens felt about where they were living, and what was going on in their lives.

The director of Over The Edge, Jonathan Kaplan, should be and has been given a lot of credit for bringing Hunter’s and Haas’s vision to the screen. The son of film composer Sol Kaplan and actress Frances Heflin, he had gone to NYU film school and where as an undergrad, Martin Scorsese was one of his professors.

He had directed just one major picture, in 1975, White Line Fever, and also directed the infamous Sex Pistols movie called Who Killed Bambi?, prior to getting this job, coming in to replace Russ Meyer for a spell before the film fell apart completely.

Kaplan — just thirty years old at the time — apparently had a real connection with his youthful cast, this despite the stress everyone felt onset, having a 36-day shoot schedule, with most of the film’s night scenes hurriedly going before cameras first, forcing the young cast to sleep days and bond over long hours at night.

The production itself had to be moved from California, due to the state’s rigid child labor laws, to two locations in Colorado — Greeley and Aurora, roughly ten miles from Colombine High.

Before then, however, Kaplan had to find his cast, and due to both budget constraints and wanting to find unknown young actors who were actually fourteen (rather than find experienced 20-year olds who could look 14), he began working on the casting, out of New York, meeting with more professional young actors, while Hunter and Haas began going to schools and asking the principals or drama teachers to recommend students: those kids turned out to be wrong, but they eventually found the right students by meeting kids who had cut class and were found smoking pot behind the school.

One of those students was Matt Dillon, who was found at a middle school in Westchester, New York, cutting class and smoking in the boy’s room. He had a chipped tooth, and he tried to act tough when they began talking to him about his interest in acting.

Kaplan and talent scout Jane Bernstein asked him what his parents did, and Dillon told them his father was “a fucking stockbroker and my mom, she don’t do shit.”

They met with his family and realized he was as middle-class as they come, perfect for the role although he had zero acting experience. After all, Matt Dillon was only 14.

One of the best things about the movie, though, which everyone involved got right — and all credit must be given to the director, and to the young members of his cast — was the film’s soundtrack.

According to what actress Pamela Ludwig told writer Mike Sacks, during filming, the young cast would bring a boombox with them to wherever they were shooting, and they would rock out to whatever they were listening to at the time — including songs by The Cars (“My Best Friend’s Girl” and “Just What I Needed”), Van Halen (“You Really Got Me”), the Ramones (“Teenage Lobotomy”), Joe Walsh, etc. — and she even playing tracks by bands that weren’t quite well known just yet, particularly and most importantly, songs by Rockford, Illinois-based rockers Cheap Trick.

Ludwig is practically credited as a music supervisor because she turned the cast and the crew on to Cheap Trick’s albums (her boyfriend, a roadie, had made her tapes of albums that weren’t yet widely known about, and certainly not being played on the radio), and four of their songs would eventually make their way into the film — “Surrender,” “Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace,” “Hello There,” and “Downed” –– and on to the film’s LP soundtrack, which is worth a lot of money today if you can find yourself a copy.

You can get a real sense for how wrong the trailer was for the film (which feels more like a horror movie — more about that in a sec) by watching the first few minutes of the actual film itself, the first image onscreen being a billboard advertising “New Granada: Tomorrow’s city… today” (later, another billboard, this time one that is being dismantled, reads “New Granada: Ideal business environment”), to the churning rock guitars of Cheap Trick’s Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace,” from their self-titled debut.

The lyrics — the song, one of Cheap Trick’s few cover songs, was written and previously recorded by British rocker Terry Reid — are pitch-perfect:

Yesterday feels like running away
Feels like givin’ the child gettin’ lost losin’ my mind
I’m feelin’ low and i got no place to go
Gettin’ all tied up, feelin’ all tied up yeah

The action gets underway as two teens on a highway overpass begin firing on a police car with a BB rifle.

Their nemesis, Sgt. Doberman (Harry Northup), loses the snipers in a chase and instead grabs 14-year-old Carl Willat (Michael Kramer) and his friend Richie White (Matt Dillon) while they’re walking home, but Richie — who is currently on probation for breaking and entering — refuses to cooperate with Doberman’s questions. Carl’s record is clean and his Cadillac salesman father (Andy Romano) wants to keep it that way so his son won’t end up in reform school on “The Hill.”

All Carl wants to do is to listen to Cheap Trick on his headphones, and it’s pretty great to hear their music in this film considering they were a band who were relatively unknown but were just beginning to break in the U.S. at the time the movie was being filmed, in 1978.

By the time of the film’s release, in 1979, Cheap Trick — lead singer Robin Zander, guitarist Rick Nielsen, bassist Tom Petersson and drummer Bun E. Carlos — had released three albums: their 1977 self-titled debut, followed by In Color (also 1977), and Heaven Tonight (1978) — and although all three were critically-acclaimed by the rock media, none of them were selling particularly well at the time and certainly none had cracked the Top 40.

Things were about to change, however, for Cheap Trick, who toured incessantly then as they do now, playing any gig that came their way. Their reputation was that they were a solid opening band — they played shows with Kiss, Queen, Aerosmith, Motley Crüe, and did a co-headlining tour with AC/DC.

Despite still being relatively unknown in America, it turns out that they were huge in Japan in 1978, where all three albums had gone gold. In April 1978, they had even done their first Japanese tour, flying coach and stepping off their plane to find that there were thousands of Japanese fans waiting for them at the airport.

They ended up having to have 24-hour guards posted at their hotel, and decided to record two of their shows, at at Tokyo’s famous Nippon Budokan, for a Japan-only live album, Cheap Trick At Budokan.

However, a funny thing caught their label, Epic Records, off-guard, when import copies of the album (released in Sept. ’78) began flying off the shelves, and radio stations across the country began playing the raucous live versions of “Surrender” and “I Want You to Want Me,” and they very quickly released a domestic version of Cheap Trick At Budokan in the States, which would eventually sell over three million copies and climbing the Billboard album charts to #4.

Of the songs included on the Over The Edge soundtrack, “Surrender” seems to be the one that perhaps captures the best overall vibe of the film’s teen angst, getting the feeling that most teenagers feel about their parents absolutely right: they’re fucking weird.

“Surrender” is the lead-off track on the movie soundtrack, and the unofficial theme song too, accompanying one of the movie’s best scenes, which takes place in an unfinished tract home that the boys have taken to calling “their apartment,” where we see a blissed-out Cory (played by the aforementioned Pamela Ludwig) dancing wildly to the song while waving a gun around, imitating guitarist Rick Nielsen’s onstage antics.

You’ll have to watch the clip (or better yet, the movie) to see what happens.

Another great Cheap Trick tune that makes it into the film, and onto the soundtrack, is “Hello There,” which is the perfect introductory song, kicking off both their In Color album and their live album too. (You can hear some of the song in one of the clips we’ve included here).

Hello There” lyrically serves many functions as a lead-off song, including as an enticement, a greeting to the audience, and an invitation to join in on the fun (and to perhaps smoke a joint?):

Hello there ladies and gentlemen
Hello there ladies and gents
Are you ready to rock?
Are you ready or not?
Would you like to do a number with me?

However, it’s also interesting to note that it was originally written by the band as a song they could play as the first song in their set (it’s less than two-minutes long, too), effectively serving as a soundcheck when they weren’t given one (many opening acts don’t often get the chance to test the sound systems in most clubs and arenas).

It introduces each instrument, one at a time — drums, guitar, bass, voice — and by the time Zander’s voice kicks in, the band’s sound mix was usually figured out, and they could move quickly into playing the rest of their set.

The last song included on the soundtrack and in the film is Downed,” and we thought we’d share this write-up by our friend, writer Kim Morgan, who wrote about the song in 2006 for her Sunset Gun blog:

“As of now, I can’t stop listening to one of my favorite songs (of all songs) ‘Downed’ from the brilliant album In Color. It’s such a curiously sad, yet wonderfully fuck-it-all song that, of late it makes my head spin and burn and think and feel and and yearn and feel happy. If you’re going through anything, if you feel a little crazy it’s cathartic beyond reason. This just runs through my brain: “Downed, downed out of my head… I’m going to live in a mountain way down under in Australia. It’s either that or suicide. It’s such a strange strain on you. Oooh, I got a mind.” I got a mind. If a song makes you feel happy and crazy all at once that’s a truly awesome (and awesome, that word, used the correct way). I’m going to listen again because I think it may be one of the top five greatest songs ever recorded. Top three. I got a mind.”

The film was supposed to end with the Who’s “Baba O’Riley” playing as the bus heads off towards the prison, but Kaplan told Sacks that it proved too expensive to license, so the producers went a different direction, replacing the “teenage wasteland” lyrics of the Who with Valerie Carter’s riveting cover of “O-o-h Child,” which had a more optimistic feel to it (“things are going to get easier”).

According to an interview Kaplan did decades later with the Village Voice (August 14, 2001), while the film was still in production, a new L.A. Times article had been published, declaring that the coming trend in motion pictures that year was going to be “gang movies,” and so according to Kaplan, Over The Edge “got lumped in with The Warriors, The Wanderers, Boulevard Nights.”

Kaplan: The Warriors was a huge hit [it had been released in February 1979], but there was violence in the theaters; two people got killed, and they pulled [the advertisements for] the picture because it was such bad publicity for the studio.”

Indeed, The Warriors was blamed for a shooting death that took place at at a Palm Springs, California drive-in, and for a fatal stabbing that same night in Oxnard, another California city. Three nights later, in Boston, there was another stabbing death by kids who had just seen a screening of the film.

The Orion execs were afraid that the advance press about “another gang movie” was going to hurt their business, and they were also afraid of “copycat violence,” so they screened the film for a few weeks in New York and L.A. and then shelved it.

It did get a nice review in 1979 from Roger Ebert, who describes the film’s setting perfectly:

“The movie’s set on those dry, rolling plains west of Denver, where suburbia creeps toward Boulder, and Boulder creeps back. The name of this suburb is New Granada—an oasis of split-level homes and streets curving gracefully toward their dead-ends at the end of the development. The soft plops of tennis balls tick away the afternoons. Oh, and there are kids here, too. They hang out at a Quonset hut that’s the local youth center, and if you know the right kid you can get a deal on grass, hash, ludes, speed, whatdaya need?”

Over The Edge‘s influence has been very widespread. It first started to show up on cable, on HBO, in the 80s and became a regular featured movie there, rescuing it from relatively obscurity.

Jodie Foster saw Over The Edge and wanted to work with Kaplan, saying “Over The Edge was the only teen movie that made any sense.” She ended up with a starring role in Kaplan’s The Accused, and won an Oscar.

In the early 90s, the music video for Nirvana’s bit hit “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” filmed on a soundstage in Culver City, made to look like the inside the gym at L.A.’s Fairfax High, and it appeared greatly influenced by Over The Edge.

Kurt Cobain had said it was a favorite film, and told writer Michael Azerrad “That movie pretty much defined my whole personality. It was really cool. Total anarchy.” (Come As You Are: The Story of Nirvana).

 

Watch the full film here.

Saturday Matinee: The Emerald Forest

A drama about the clash between an Amazonian rainforest tribe with an ecological ethic and modern corporate interests who measure everything by progress.

Review by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat

Source: Spirituality & Practice

“Rainforests are one of the most complex, beautiful and important of the many ecological systems on the planet,” naturalist Gerald Durrell has stated. “They are also ones that, primarily out of greed, we are destroying with the savage, unthinking ferocity of a troop of drunken apes in an art gallery. But whereas pictures can be repainted, tropical rainforests can’t be recreated.”

“When I was a boy,” says Wanadi, a primitive tribal chief who has kept his Invisible people out of contact with the twentieth century, “the edge of the world was very far. But every year it comes closer.” The Emerald Forest depicts the clash between this rainforest tribe, who adapt themselves to the environment and treat it like a friend, and inhabitants of the modern world, who measure everything by progress. Director John Boorman (Beyond Rangoon, Excalibur, Hope and Glory) shot this compelling film in Brazil in the rainforest of the Amazon.

The story begins with Bill Markham (Powers Boothe), an American engineer, taking his wife and two children to the site of a new hydroelectric dam he is building in Brazil. During the visit, seven-year-old Tommy wanders into the jungle and does not return. Ten years later, Markham is completing his work on the dam and still searching for his son. He finds him living with a Stone Age tribe who call themselves the Invisible People. They use a green dye to camouflage their presence in the Amazon rainforest. Although Markham wants Tommy to return with him to civilization, the youth — now called Tomme (Charley Boorman) — has become part of the tribe and views Wanadi (Rui Polonah), the shaman and chief elder of the Invisible People, as his true father. While staying with the tribe and seeing how his son has adapted to their way of life, Markham realizes that he cannot force Tomme to come home with him. He leaves alone. Shortly afterward, the Invisible People are attacked by a cannibal tribe, the Fierce People. These warriors kidnap the women, taking them to a shantytown which has grown up around the dam. They plan to sell them to brothel keepers. Tomme, now responsible for the Invisible People, realizes that he needs Markham’s technology to rescue the women since the Fierce People have acquired machine guns. His son’s return compels the engineer to take a hard look at the values which have motivated him to build the dam and the impact of his work on the Invisible People and their home in the rainforest.

In the spirit of Nicholas Roeg’s Walkabout, Peter Weir’s The Last Wave, and Werner Herzog’s Where the Green Ants Dream, the story conveys the ancient wisdom of the primitives who relish dream time and have found a way to dignify the different stages of life with meaningful rituals. Equally important is the message that an ecological ethic is far superior to the domineering ravaging of the earth that has come to characterize the “advance” of civilization.

Watch the full film here.

Saturday Matinee: Millenium Actress

An enchanting Japanese animated film about a woman whose life is propelled by the yearning of her heart for a mysterious stranger.

Review by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat

Source: Spirituality & Practice

In the opening scene of this exquisite Japanese animated film directed by Satoshi Kon [10/12/63 – 8/24/10], Genya Tachibana, a documentary filmmaker, and his cameraman are climbing a hill to the retreat of Chiyoko Fujiwara, a popular actress who mysteriously abandoned her career 30 years ago. The meeting with her has great significance for Genya since he has secretly been in love with her all these years and can’t wait to present the famous 70-year-old with an old key that was once her fondest possession. When she holds it in her hand, the memories of her past begin to unspool in a narrative that intermixes the movies she was in and the real events of her personal life. As an added treat that often provides some funny and delightful moments, Genya and his cameraman find themselves magically transported into the story as befuddled participants in Chiyoko’s movies and daily life.

The actress was born in 1923 when a gigantic earthquake hit Tokyo. She becomes an actress as a little girl despite the pleas of her mother that she is too timid. Oddly enough the most poignant moment in her early life is not her first major role but a brief encounter with an artist who is being pursued by government authorities for some unknown actions against the state. Chiyoko puts herself in jeopardy by taking this handsome and wounded stranger to their storage shed. In gratitude for her assistance, he presents her with a key. After he leaves, this remains a talisman of her love for him, and she recalls again and again his words that the key is the most important thing there is.

In each of her movies, Chiyoko moves through a different period of Japanese history from the fifteenth century to the space age playing a princess, a ninja, a geisha, and even an astronaut. Over the years, the actress still yearns for connection with the mysterious stranger. It is the force that carries her through her career and supercedes anything that she does on the screen. Of course, this intensity of feeling draws out the ire of a competing older actress and a man with a scar who is pursuing the artist. In this retelling of her life, the documentary filmmaker is always rescuing her in moments of distress. He did work on several films with her as a young man when he was breaking into the business, but she never knew of his ardor until they meet for the interview.

Spiritual writer Joan Chittister has written, “Longing is a compass that guides us through life. We may never get what we really want, that’s true, but every step along the way will be determined by it.” In this Japanese animated film, Chiyiko’s longing is represented by her always running to find the mysterious artist. Those who are propelled through their lives by a deep yearning of the heart are lucky individuals: some might even call them enchanted. Millennium Actress is an enchanting movie that will appeal to those who are looking for something special at the multiplex.

Watch the full film here: https://fantasyanime.com/anime/millennium-actress-sub

Saturday Matinee: Perfect Blue

“Perfect Blue” (1997) is a psychological thriller anime directed by Satoshi Kon, written by Sadayuki Murai, and based on the novel “Perfect Blue: Complete Metamorphosis” by Yoshikazu Takeuchi. The film follows Mima Kirigoe, a member of a Japanese idol group, who retires from music to pursue an acting career. As she becomes a victim of stalking, gruesome murders begin to occur, and she starts to lose her grip on reality. Like Kon’s later work, Paprika, the film deals with the blurring of the lines between fantasy and reality in contemporary culture.

Watch the film on Hoopla here: https://www.hoopladigital.com/title/12319819

Saturday Matinee: Fight Club

Fight Club: A philosophical analysis

Alter ego, consumerism, identity, anarchy, masculinity, order and chaos.

By DM

Source: blastingnews

Based on Chuck Palahniuk’s novel of the same name, a film that was initially a commercial failure is now widely considered a cult classic and a philosophical marvel. Fight Club is one of the most important films of its generation and one of Fincher’s best. This thought-provoking masterpiece scratches the surface of various philosophical concepts and makes its audience think.

It is still as relevant as ever, perhaps even more so than before. Emasculation, Consumerism, beauty standards, identity, chaos vs order — these philosophical concepts are perhaps even more topical today than they’ve ever been.

Philosophically radical, this is a film that condemns the society of consumerism. As Edward Norton’s character says: “It’s just, when you buy furniture, you tell yourself, that’s it.

That’s the last sofa I’m gonna need. Whatever else happens, I’ve got that sofa problem handled.”

Fight Club also takes a critical look at beauty standards for men and women both and at advertisements that are served to us through mass media. Identity and alter-ego are philosophical concepts on which Fight Club is based on. Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt’s character) is what the narrator (Edward Norton’s character) wants to be.

The ideal alpha male. A leader of men. Tyler Durden gradually appears throughout the movie, emerging from the narrator’s subconscious and almost destroying him in the process.

Order vs chaos

Order, anarchy and chaos are perhaps the most prominent theme of Fight Club. At one point, Tyler Durden says: “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.” Although primarily a critique of consumerism, this is a rejection of order and an acceptance of chaos.

When the underground fight club evolves into Project Mayhem and starts pouring into the outside world, members of it begin to dismantle every societal concept, causing controlled, deliberate and channeled chaos. Installing anarchy and rejecting every societal norm that had turned them into slaves. This is how they attempt to set themselves free, but the main protagonist loses himself in the chaos, initially merging with his alter-ego and then rejecting it.

In today’s America, where controlled chaos is caused by the media and fed to the panicked public, Fight Club resembles a warped house of mirrors in which the reflection of today’s America is seen.

 

Saturday Matinee: The Osterman Weekend

Ahead of its time – brilliant, entertaining, insightful

Review By nfaust1

Source: IMDB

When this movie originally came out, five years after CONVOY (a muddled, but in many ways spectacular entertainment), many critics moaned that Peckinpah had yet again displayed his diminished talent. A Ludlum spy thriller, pulp material, given the Peckinpah stamp was not to be taken seriously, period. What nonsense. To begin with, all of Peckinpah’s films spring from pulp, and all of them, even the least successful ones, buck and spin with the way Sam applies his vision to the genre conventions he’s messing with.

In simple terms, a Peckinpah movie always illustrates the world according to Sam; like a novelist writing in first person, Sam’s point of view is the movie’s. And that’s why they endure today. In THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND, Peckinpah focuses Ludlum’s cold war spy antics into a exploration of urban paranoia and governmental abuse. Video as a means to manipulate perception is one of the themes he exploits here, but that’s not his main thrust. A group of affluent characters come together for a weekend that turns into a surreal nightmare. The trappings of success that surround this group are not in any way secure enough to withstand the violent, reckless games played on them by a rouge CIA agent (played by John Hurt) who’s motive is personal revenge. And that motive, the revenge that fuels his need, in actual fact, has absolutely nothing to do with the affluent group he’s playing with. Like the gods in Greek tragedy, the Hurt character uses the Osterman Weekend and its players as pawns, stepping stones, as a way to get at his real goal, the head of the CIA. This notion obviously strikes a chord in Peckinpah; the vision is certainly domestic, but the idea is epic: in the privacy of our homes a kind of virus colors our perceptions and poisons friendships, creates anarchy, and causes death. And the virus – where does it come from? Our own back yard – the CIA.

The film is charged with a constant underlying tension that holds and holds until all hell breaks loose and the affluent house becomes a battle ground. Visually, the movie is stunning. But then, so was CONVOY, but this time Peckinpah has harnessed what he shows and what he wants to say in a simple, tightly wound spy thriller package, Watching the movie today, it’s hard to believe that some of the notions that seemed more like the paranoiac mechanics of a potboiler in 1983 have actually come true and don’t seem quite as far fetched. By all accounts, Sam Peckinpah was a terribly difficult man, but he was also a visionary film maker who’s work gets better and better as the years pass. THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND is not the bad film critics at the time bitched about, and it’s not the sad conclusion to a career that started out brimming with possibility. It’s a splendid, brilliant – better than brilliant – work of American art by a true American artist: a giant. The world according to Sam is a world that will be looked at a hundred years from now; it will inspire debate, continual analysis, and be ranked with the major artist of the entire 20th century. By 1983,Peckinpah’s health may have diminished, but as a film maker he was still powerful and strong as hell.

 

Watch the full film on Hoopla at: https://www.hoopladigital.com/title/11049252

Saturday Matinee: Sans Soliel

“Sans Soliel” (1983) is an experimental film by acclaimed French director Chris Marker which compiles footage recorded in various countries around the world and presents it in collage-like form. The movie features no synchronized sound, but instead ties the various segments together with music and voice-over narration pondering such topics as memory, technology and society. As the scenes shift, locations range from Japan to Iceland to Africa, creating a truly international work.

Watch the film on Kanopy here: https://www.kanopy.com/wayf/product/sans-soleil

Saturday Matinee: Quest

By Jonathan Crow

Source: Open Culture

Saul Bass was one of the greatest graphic designers who ever lived. He created the logos for such ubiquitous organizations as AT&T, United Airlines and the Girl Scouts of America. He revolutionized the art of movie titles in such films as The Man with the Golden Arm, Vertigo and West Side Story. He may or may not have designed the famous shower sequence in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho. His design work was always marked by a clean, highly graphic style that you can pick out a mile away.

Yet when Bass got a chance to actually direct, he didn’t make slick movies with simple plots and great visuals, as you might expect. Instead, he made profoundly trippy movies with great visuals. His one and only feature film, Phase IV (1974), is a deeply weird movie about evolution. Think of it as a low-budget 2001: A Space Odyssey. With ants. The movie was butchered by scared distributors and consequently, it bombed at the box office.

Almost a decade later, Bass, along with his second wife Elaine, made a short film called Quest, based on Ray Bradbury’s story “Frost and Fire.” You can watch it above.

The film centers on a tribe of robe-sporting people who live for only a mere eight days. If you’re an infant on a Monday, you will be elderly by the time the next Monday rolls around. At the opening, a nameless child is born as his elders ask in hushed tones, “Is this the one?” Of course he is. The reason he and his tribe have a shorter shelf life than grocery store sushi has something to do with a gate that blocks life sustaining light. “Beyond the great gate,” intones one elder, “people live 20,000 days or more.” The problem is that gate is five or so days away by foot.

So after a very brief training montage, the youth sets off across strange and fanciful landscapes that recall Yes album covers. Along the way, he faces down a beast that looks like a bear crossed with a lamprey, plays a video game with a Yeti on top of a ziggurat, and stumbles across a wizened old man who only the previous week was the tribe’s golden boy.

The movie is incredibly, hilariously dated, so much so that it goes right past kitsch into something close to sublime. If you remember watching, and loving, The Dark Crystal, Beast Master, Krull and Tron in your youth, you must check this out.