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April 2008

The Fall of the Roman Empire

The Fall of the Roman Empire Limited Collector’s Edition 3.5 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

With a remastered print of the three hour theatrical film, promotional spots, a “making of” documentary spread out over 3 DVDs, plus post cards, and a Technicolor reproduction of the original program, trying to absorb all the material contained in this collector’s edition may feel as if the Roman Empire has fallen on you. But bear with it, citizen. The Miriam Collection’s “The Fall of the Roman Empire” has a forum for everyone, and is as sumptuous and striking as the film itself.

Released way back in 1964, “The Fall of the Roman Empire” isn’t as creaky as you might think. There’s none of the overboard, rip ‘em to shreds violence found in today’s productions (like watching 300 Spartans get hacked, severed and filleted down to none). It’s not an unforgettable epic in the vein of “Gladiator,” but it’s an enjoyable example of the extravagant epic genre. So if you’ve got young children, they won’t be exposed to anything they haven’t gawked at on prime time, making “The Fall” a good PG rated family movie night candidate.

Honchoed by producer Samuel Bronston, (known for extravagant historical dramas such as “El Cid” and “55 Days at Peking”) and director Anthony Mann, “The Fall of the Roman Empire” was the most expensive historical drama to date. Where a good deal of the money wound up is obvious – it’s right up there for you to see on the screen. Bronston commissioned a life sized version of the Roman Forum in Madrid with 160 foot buildings, thousands of statues, and intricate, accurate interiors that were never even used. (It still holds the record for being the largest outdoor set ever constructed.) The city was so convincing it later became a tourist attraction -- Madrid’s version of an ancient Disneyland.

Bronston hired some of Britain’s best known actors for supporting roles, (many of whom were leading actors in their own right). Alec Guinness (“Bridge Over The River Kwai”), James Mason (“20,000 Leagues Under The Sea”), and Anthony Quayle (“Lawrence Of Arabia”) gave the film instant credibility. For an international flair, Bronston added Canadian TV actor Christopher Plummer (“Hallmark Hall of Fame”), Egyptian actor Omar Sharif (another “Lawrence of Arabia” alumni) and the eighth wonder of the world, Sophia Loren. To keep American audiences interested, he brought in Stephen Boyd (“Ben Hur”) to play the hero, plus veteran heavy John Ireland (“Gunfight at the O.K. Corral”), and Mel Ferrer (“War and Peace”). Bronston tabbed Dimitri Tiomkin for the music. Working with three fully staffed orchestras over the course of a year, the composer recorded one of the most dramatic, emotional scores in movie history. As a testament to his open checkbook policy, Bronston hired a mere 8,000 extras for the battle scenes. A freak snowstorm threatened to delay filming, but the brain trust wisely chose to make the bad weather part of the film.

Many of the movie’s action scenes project the grandeur and vast expanse of the Roman Empire, including the previously mentioned battle scenes. The panning cameras capture the degradation in the city’s square, which resembles a densely populated Fellini nightmare (albeit an organized and sexless one) with clowns on stilts, rebellious regiments, thousands of famine-crazed citizens, and corrupt senators vying for the Emperor’s attention. One of the opening scenes at Caesar’s mountain fortress in the north assembles regiments from more than 50 Roman provinces. Great attention was paid in recreating the outfits worn by the soldiers and representatives from countries such as Syria, Armenia and Egypt. When Guinness stands on the veranda of his stronghold addressing thousands of brightly festooned men it’s no computer generated trick, everyone on screen is a real human being and the massive stone fortress was constructed specifically for the film. Imagine everyone at Woodstock dressed in feathered helmets and armor surrounded by chariots and horses and you’ll begin to get the picture. There’s also a fast-paced chariot race in which Stephen Boyd’s heroic Livius and Plummer’s treacherous Commodus thrash at each other, with both characters alternately threatening to sail over a cliff. The adrenalin surging shot is an enjoyable thrill at ever turn and probably caused a few stuntmen to wet themselves.

While great expense was made to make the Roman Empire as visually accurate as possible, Bronston would have been equally well served if he’d spent a little bit more money on the script. Screen writers Ben Barzman, Basilio Franchina and Phillip Yordan, did a commendable job crafting the action scenes, and provided James Mason and Alec Guinness with poetic speeches, but the dialogue they manufactured for the film’s love story between Boyd and Loren is rigid as Caligula in the chamber of the vestal virgins, making the two already limited actors sound as if they’re trying to read Latin from wet cue cards:

Livius (Boyd): Come away with me.
Lucilla (Loren): Where could we hide? I am Caesar’s daughter.
Livius: You are also a woman. That is a much higher rank.

The storyline is less extravagant than the movie’s people-packed scenes. When the film opens, the Roman Empire is at the height of its power and glory, thanks to the guidance and wisdom of Marcus Aurelius (regal but wordy Alec Guinness). Sensing his impending death, Marcus Aurelius calls together representatives from the empire’s many nations to garner their support for a “Pax Romana,” a united nation living in peace. The only pockets of resistance threatening Aurelius’ dream are Persia and a clan of barbarians led by the ruthless Ballomar (a seething John Ireland). Aurelius’ impetuous son, Commodus (scene-stealing, captivating Christopher Plummer), thinks he’s in line for the throne, but Aurelius feels his loyal Tribune, Livius, should rule. (Livius is played by Stephen Boyd, who’s so wooden he deserves to be called Stiffin Bored.) Blind soothsayer Cleander (capable Mel Ferrer) speeds Aurelius on his way to Olympus before the Emperor can officially make Livius his heir. But Livius has already spilled the news to Commodus. Not surprisingly, Commodus, who feels close enough to call Livius his brother, begins to resent him. Their resentment and competitiveness surges when the two lead separate armies in pursuit of Ballomar. Commodus, assisted by a former gladiator (Anthony Quayle, vibrant as the virile Verulus), takes the more dangerous assignment of drawing Ballomar’s men into a trap. The trick works all too well. Ballomar’s men engage Commodus and his soldiers, but the gladiators conscripted to fight by Verulus cower and have to be rescued by Livius, further straining their relationship.

Livius is more intent on chasing Commodus’ sister, Lucilla (toga temptress Sophia Loren) than pursuing the throne. But Lucilla is a human olive branch promised by Aurelius to appease Sohamus, the King of the Armenians (Omar Sharif, as energetically animated as a Con Ed worker with his wet finger in a light socket). Commodus assumes the throne and immediately begins to tear down what his father has built by overtaxing and antagonizing Rome’s eastern settlements. Commodus also tries to undermine the peace that Timonides (the always brilliant and articulate James Mason) has arranged with Ballomar. He banishes Livius by sending him back to the northern frontier, and tells Lucilla, now Sohamus’ wife, not to bother with any road trips back to the Appian Way unless she’d like to be the next starring act with the lions at the coliseum.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and Commodus’ lack of benevolence comes back to haunt both him and Rome. The city suffers through famine, pestilence, and a chariot strike (just kidding about that last one). Commodus gets barbarous with the barbarians, and the beleaguered eastern frontier revolts, including Lucilla’s adopted home, Armenia. Commodus recalls Livius to put down the rebels, which means he not only has to kill men he served with, he may also have to kill Lucilla. The act tests both Livius’ loyalty to the empire and his love for Lucilla, and sets his chariot wheels in motion for a final confrontation with Commodus. One of the men has to die in order for Rome to have a chance at survival, and the rest of “The Fall” becomes a question of who sides with Livius, who fights with Commodus, and who winds up on a funeral pyre. The outcome is as easy to see as 8,000 extras dressed in gleaming armor in a wide open field, but there’s a wild card in the climax involving Commodus that will catch you off your Praetorian guard. (Well, it surprised me.)

I hate to cast aspersions on the dead, but Stiffin Bored (or Stiffin Void) is one of the reason’s Rome fell when the picture was released. Boyd was a matinee idol, an action figure, not an actor, much like the man he replaced (Charlton Heston). Heston was offered the role of Livius, but turned it down because he hated Sophia Loren, with whom he’d co-starred in the Bronston’s previous epic, “El Cid.” Kirk Douglas’ schedule kept his chariot in the garage as well. Boyd was chosen because he was tall, long-limbed, fit the costumes and looked good on a horse. Stiffin had a busy career, appearing with Heston in “Ben Hur,” and in other costume epics such as “Genghis Khan” and “The Bible…In the Beginning,” as well as starring in the futuristic adventure “Fantastic Voyage” with another brunette ha-cha-cha, Raquel Welch. (He was also the first choice to play James Bond.) Boyd was struck down on the golf course by a heart attack at the age of 45. Talk about bogeying a hole.

Sophia Loren can’t act either, but who cares? Hoochie mama! She’s a Roman goddess, and one of the few cast members whose ancestors may have toga’ed with Caesar. Although she crossed swords with testy Chuck Heston, she clearly was a team player, appearing on the set to joke with the cast on her days off. She’s a bit tongue-tied by the dialogue at times, sounding like a female version of Yul Brynner (“I lub you Lidius!”), but remains as regal as Venus de Milo throughout. The fact that Ms. Loren’s best acting assets are concealed in figure nullifying robes isn’t her biggest problem. It’s hard to believe, but she and Boyd have absolutely no chemistry in their scenes together. (A recent bio on Doris Day outed Boyd, which may come as a shock to his two ex-wives.)

Christopher Plummer’s villainous portrayal of real life ruler Commodus dominates the screen and more than makes up for Loren and Boyd’s still life romance. Plummer’s cunning grin and boisterous delivery indicate he was really enjoying himself. And why not? The villains get the best dialogue, do despicable things the actor himself wouldn’t do in real life, and get to have a great death scene. Watch Plummer as he digresses from an irresponsible arrogant ruler in waiting to an enigmatic Emperor, and keep in mind that “The Fall of the Roman Empire” was only his third picture. He hijacks the film from distinguished veteran actors Quayle, Mason and Guinness, who seem to sense Plummer is locked in and support him in his effort to carry the production. Plummer’s performance helped him gain leading man status. His next film was the highly successful “Sound Of Music.” He liked the recognition the film afforded him, but thought it was too saccharine. (I’m with you, Chris.) He commented that working with prim and proper Julie Andrews every day was like “Being hit over the head with a Hallmark card.” Plummer is one of the few cast members still upright and acting.

Sir Alec has the daunting task of playing philosopher Emperor Marcus Aurelius, the last benevolent ruler of the Roman Empire. Guinness is pious, wise, noble, and a bit of a bore (just like he is in all of his performances). He reportedly didn’t like some of his dialogue and rewrote it to suit the character’s position as the father of his country. I can’t imagine how stilted his lines were before. Guinness falls prey to Shakespearian actors’ tendency to treat their lines as if they’re trodding the stage of the exalted Vic Theater. This is an action movie, Alec, relax. It’s hard to portray a man as revered and respected as Marcus Aurelius and Guinness does a commendable job, but he spends most of his time on the screen ruminating and reacting quizzically to his conscience (served up in the form of a voice over), rather than showing the audience a good time. Guinness succeeds in portraying Marcus Aurelius as a visionary man of the people. He also interacts well with Mason, who plays his trusted advisor, Timonides, but in scenes with Plummer, Loren, or even Boyd, Guinness’ Marcus gets lost in a serious of ponderous speeches that sound as if he’s rehearsing for his role as Obe Wan Kanobi. (He also looks the part. In one scene he wears a black hoodie similar to the one he’d wear a decade later for “Star Wars.”). He does have one unintentionally amusing exchange with Boyd as the two discuss Ballomar:

Livius: A few days longer Caesar. We will bring you his head.
Marcus Aurelius:No, Livius, please do not bring me his head. I would not know what to do with it.

James Mason’s turn as Timonides, Marcus Aurelius’ gentle Greek advisor, is the exact opposite of Sir Alec’s overblown performance. Mason takes what could have been a minor role and by using his distinctive voice, well-placed moments of light comedy and believability, makes Timonides another character worth investing three hours to watch. As he speaks to the Roman senate on behalf of the barbarians, Mason’s matchless timbre elevates his words to the stature of speeches given by great orators such as Cicero, Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt. (Okay, I’ve never heard tapes of the first two either, I’m just throwing out some recognizable names for effect. You might think Harvey Fierstein is a great speaker, in which case you should seek help.) Mason makes Timionides, a former slave and a foreigner to boot, a sympathetic and admirable character.

Other performances worth watching are John Ireland as bad-ass barbarian Ballomar (“Let us die killing Romans!”). Ireland plied his trade in Westerns, usually playing a bushwhacking, boozing bad guy. (His rut with anything personal life was fodder for the tabloids.) Draped in furs with a very fake red beard and wig, Ireland resembles a fierce, humanized Hagar the Horrible. His torture of Mason (who would later become the barbarian’s champion and live with them) will make you twist in your chair, mainly because you don’t see what Ireland is actually doing to Mason, only James’ anguished, pained face. Ireland’s transformation from fearsome foe to productive ally is one of the film’s more realized subplots, and you’ll thank the writers for including a shave and a haircut as part of his alterations.

As Commodus’ trusted second in command, Anthony Quayle gives the barrel-chested Verulus the right amount of threatening, skull-cracking presence. Quayle’s furrow-browed portrayal takes on a whole new dimension when Loren and the audience discover there’s a noble and self-sacrificing side to Verulus. In the later part of his career Quayle usually played learned senators and generals (check out his turn as resourceful Roman engineer Rubris Gallus in “Masada.”) Quayle would have been a better choice to play Marcus Aurelius than Guinness. And you have to wonder if Peter O’Toole was off somewhere having his toga dry cleaned instead of joining his fellow “Lawrence of Arabia actors. Until his final scenes, Quayle is all biceps and brute force, and despite his limited screen time, leaves an indelible impression.

One criticism – the plot conveniently disposes of some of the characters using the spear from out of nowhere routine, and there are moments when the film lags like a crucifixion crew in search of a nail (it is after all, three hours). Okay, I’ve got another complaint. The film’s in a letterbox format, which I’ve never had any use for. I don’t squint when I look at things, so why shrink everything into a band and waste so much space?

The Empire Expands – The Extras

There’s an old saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” It’ll certainly take you the better part of 24 hours to get through the movie and its legion of extras. Disc one’s special features include commentary by producer Samuel Bronston’s son, William, and Bronston biographer Mel Martin; filmographies of the stars, stills, a theatrical trailer, and “Rome in Madrid,” a twenty-minute promotional film narrated by, who else? James Mason. Besides the mellifluous Mason, you’ll get an insider’s look at six month construction project that produced the massive forum, and get your chuckle on checking out candid shots of the stars on the set -- including Alec Guinness and Christopher Plummer playing chess, and Stephen Boyd bound for his next shot in his chariot, braving the snow.

The second DVD contains the bulk of the extras, including a “Making of…” documentary, a historical look at the real Roman Empire, “Hollywood vs. History,” and a feature on composer Dimitri Tiomkin.

“The Making of…” is laced with interviews with surviving crew members and the relatives of the execs connected with the film, such as William Bronston, Nina Mann (the director’s daughter) and Bronston biographers Mel Martin and Paul Nagle. Among the many revelatory moments is Loren’s admiration for English actors. She loved the sound of their voices so much that instead of playing music in her trailer, she played records narrated by good friends Guinness and Mason. (Apparently the records didn’t take.) Bronston’s widow says part of the blame for the film’s astronomical budget can be traced to associate producer Michal Waszynski, who supposedly spirited away millions of dollars, depositing it into his personal account. Martin backs up the accusation, saying, “Money blew down the hall like leaves in October.”

Highbrow historians Dr Peter Heather and Dr. Ronald Mellor join Bronston biographer Neal Rosendorf and others to discuss if the film is historically on point. Marcus Aurelius and Commodus did indeed rule Rome in succession, and the available historical evidence indicates Aurelius was as kind-hearted and wise an overseer as Guinness’ portrayal would lead you to believe. By comparison, Commodus’ reign was a failure, but our history buffs point out he was only 19 when he succeeded Aurelius and may have eventually cracked under the pressure of ruling the entire known world. Another real-life figure, Lucilla, was executed by Commodus for plotting his assassination. But she was never betrothed to the King of Armenia or romanced by Livius, who’s purely a fictional concoction.

The third disc is a showcase for a series of historical shorts produced by Encyclopedia Britannica. When director Bill Deneen heard Samuel Bronston had created a Roman city, he asked Bronston if was available for use. Smarting form the cost of the film, Bronston and the studio were more than happy to rent it out. Incorporating scenes from “The Fall of The Roman Empire,” Dineen filmed a series of ten to twenty minute history lessons for kids, several of which, such as “Life In Ancient Rome,” and “Julius Caesar: The Rise of The Roman Empire” have been included in their entirety. The real kick is seeing Dineen’s 1964 on screen introduction and getting a load of him in 2007. Dineen has the perfect look for voice overs. His teeth are as yellow as a vampire’s eyes, his dark hair weave appears to have been stapled to his forehead, and his wing-sized ears look poised for flight. The old camera spinner seems to be enjoying ever second on camera, though.

When it was released, “The Fall Of The Roman Empire” was quickly conquered by the competition – “Mary Poppins,” which offered a spoon full of sugar from A-gaming Julie Andrews and was a much more optimistic trip down fantasy lane. John F. Kennedy had been assassinated only a few months before, and the U.S. wasn’t quite ready to embrace a picture where nearly everyone dies and an entire civilization is headed down the path to ruin. Audiences wanted neat, tidy happy endings in those days, and despite Plummer’s electrifying performance, “Fall” wasn’t exactly an uplifting experience. With a masterfully cleaned up appearance and its all-star cast, maybe “The Fall of the Roman Empire” can now find the audience it deserves. Rev up your chariot, go down to the coliseum, drop some ducats for a copy, and let the games begin.

Posted April 25, 2008 Permalink

John, Paul, Tom and Ringo

The Tomorrow Show With Tom Snyder John, Paul, Tom and Ringo 4 out of 5 stars Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

It’s ironic that an entire generation has grown up not knowing who Tom Snyder was. “John, Paul, Tom and Ringo,” a 2 DVD set of “Tomorrow Show” interviews from Shout Factory, ought to enhance Snyder’s reputation as a provocative, determined and entertaining interviewer. Snyder, a former newscaster, hosted “The Tomorrow Show,” on NBC from 1973-82. His hard-hitting interviewing style, off the cuff exchanges with the stage crew, and cloud-wafting chain smoking made him a celebrity in his own right. He also had the distracting habit of making every interview about Tom Snyder. If you’re interviewing Uncle Floyd, that’s one thing. If you’re fortunate to have landed three out of the four Beatles, you need to be prepared, be polite, suck on your Salem and let them do the talking. Tom does none of the above, which makes “John, Paul, Tom and Ringo” an occasional out of control clown car. Snyder’s ego aside, these interviews haven’t been seen in twenty five years, and are worth delving into because it’s the Beatles, kids.

John….

No one knew it at the time, but Snyder’s talk with John Lennon on April 25, 1975 would be Lennon’s last television interview before the ex-Beatle’s self-imposed exile. Lennon would spend the next five years as a house dad, raising his infant son, Sean. He re-entered the studio in 1980 to record his final album, “Double Fantasy,” with his screech-a-thon wife, Yoko Ono. In the midst of his successful artistic comeback, Lennon innocently autographed an album for Mark David Chapman, a deeply disturbed fan whose inner voices were telling him John Lennon was some sort of Anti-Christ. On December 8, 1980, Chapman encountered Lennon outside his home at the Dakota and murdered him.

Seeing Tom Snyder’s interview with John Lennon is one of those rare “oh wow” moments. He’s been gone for so long and has been lionized on film, in books and on CDs that you forget he was once a person, not just an icon, and he wasn’t perfect. Luckily we get Lennon the playful, Lennon the charmer, Lennon the joker, instead of John the caustic, John the hater of all things Beatle, especially Paul McCartney.

The lengthy interview begins as he old saying goes, at the beginning. John still can’t believe “Beatlemania”: “It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. We thought, what’s going on? It was just happening to us. We were being whisked from room to room.” He’s thankful he’s not recognized as much anymore, that he can go out to dinner and a few people might come up to him wish him luck in battle against deportation but otherwise leave him alone. (An ironic statement given Chapman had no problem recognizing, stalking, and killing Lennon.) John’s far less vitriolic about the Beatles than he was in the 70s whenever he was asked why the world’s greatest group broke up: “We didn’t break up because we weren’t friends. We were bored. We stopped moving forward. It was like a marriage that didn’t work.”

Given John’s post-Beatle battles with Paul, his sincere claim he’s happy for the success of his former band mates is a sigh of relief. Nice to know he went to the great control booth in the sky without all that baggage. John’s most happy for Ringo: “It always went that Ringo was dumb, but Ringo ain’t dumb.” He laughs, adding, “We were worried, but he can make movies, he has a recording career. He’s doing better than me right now!”

There are few revelations in the interview (or in Paul or Ringo’s for that matter), although I was surprised to hear John say he liked disco. He makes up for his misjudgment of disco by mentioning his appreciation of reggae, which in 1975 was just beginning to gain a foothold in the U.S.

John’s explanations for some of his outrageous and trend-setting behavior in the 60s come across now as logical and less diabolical. Commenting on his “bed in” for peace with Yoko, John admits it was a calculated move. He knew there would be a lot of press covering their honeymoon, and used the opportunity to talk about something he believed in. Looking back at the full monty shot of himself and Yoko that jumped off of the cover of their “Two Virgins” album, John says coyly, “We were just ahead of our time,” and rightfully points out that nudity is so commonplace today few people give it an afterthought.

A large part of the interview is devoted to John’s tug of war with the Department of Immigration, which didn’t care if Lennon was exiled to Elba to keep Napoleon’s ghost company, as long as he wasn’t spreading his subversive ideas around the good ole U.S.A. Lennon has his smarmy looking lawyer, Leon Wyles, respond to any tricky legal logistics. Styling out in plastic rim glasses (which don’t disguise his beady eyes), and wearing a ghastly stripped tie that resembles a hangman’s noose, Wyles looks like one of those shifty establishment types Lennon used to tell us not to trust. Wyles talks in lawyer double-speak about a conspiracy against John, that people like John Mitchell are out to get him. Back then it seemed like a lot of paranoid hooey, but files have since become a part of the public record that prove everyone at the Pentagon from Nixon to J. Edgar Hoover (and possibly even the janitor) were violating the very rules our country was founded on in an attempt to get John deported. Snyder sneaks in one of his more probing set of questions, “Why try to be somewhere where you’re not wanted? Why endure the hassle?” Lennon response is sincere: “I’d like to live in the land of the free.”

Lennon’s interview was rebroadcast the day after his death on December 9, 1980. At that time, Snyder added two guests to the show who’d been close to the ex-Beatle in his final years. Pickerel-pussed Lisa Robinson, a reporter for The New York Times, was one of the few writers granted access to John during his days at the Dakota. She marvels at how comfortable John was at being a father, that he made breakfast while Yoko made money. Robinson’s admiration for Yoko the determined business woman didn’t win me over; in fact her description of her guaranteed I won’t be nominating Mrs. Lennon for Mother of the Year. (“Yoko does not fetch and carry for anyone… She said to John, “I carried the child for nine months. Now it’s your turn.”)

The second guest on the show was Jack Douglas, who produced “Double Fantasy.” He had a longstanding relationship with the Lennon’s and was respected for his talents because he was “the first engineer who didn’t run out of the control room when Yoko started to work.” (Don’t look now Jack, but engineers – and listeners – still run out of the room when Yoko opens her maw.)

Douglas is obviously still shook up over Lennon’s death. He’s misty eyed, his voice shakes and his expression occasionally glazes over like a shell shocked soldier just home from Verdun. He talks about how positive Lennon was about his future before his death. One of the most touching moments on the DVD is when Douglas says after Lennon’s death he left the hospital and spent the night walking the street, trying to communicate with him. You feel for the guy. Like many of us, Douglas truly loved Lennon.

The best part of the John Lennon interview? No Yoko.

Paul…

You may squirm in your chair a bit during Paul McCartney’s 1979 interview, which was recorded prior to a holiday concert by Wings at the Rainbow Theater. It was conducted via satellite, which was still a tricky technical proposition in those days. Paul has yet to develop his Teflon confidence and is occasionally caught flat-footed by Snyder’s less than scintillating questions and his I’m-just-as-big-a-star-as-you attitude. Not only does Macca have to deal with the burgeoning technology and Snyder’s pit bull personality, but he has to placate Linda Eastman McCartney, his wife and fellow band member in Wings. Linda is in a destructive mood, mugging for the camera. When she’s not making faces or cracking wise, she looks horrifically bored. Score one for Yoko. The interview is a reminder that Linda was every bit the biotch as John’s spouse and exhibited the same Rasputin-like hold over Paul that Yoko had over John. (The people you feel sorriest for are George and Ringo.) Snyder doesn’t help matters by getting several facts about Linda wrong. He compliments her “guitar playing” in the video for “Spin It On.” Linda does indeed have a guitar in her hand, but she’s clearly faking it, and she tells Snyder so, noting she’s the band’s novice keyboard player. Snyder also says Linda grew up in Long Island not once, but twice. The second time he mentions it, Linda comes down on him like the downbeat on “Anytime At All” – hard and fast, noting forcefully that she was raised in Scarsdale in Westchester County. From that point on, Snyder can forget about trading bon mots with Linda. When he calls her “cherubic,” Linda snickers, replying, “Cherubic? Clearly, I’m not.”

Snyder compounds the awkward feeling in the air by mentioning an incident in which several fans of the Who were killed “last week.” Paul turns to Linda and says, “Didn’t that happen last night?” forcing Snyder to fess up that their interview wouldn’t air for a week.

Macca’s interview was shot during the final phase of Wings’ existence, when Paul was still trying to convince everyone his band of itinerant musicians were as good as the Beatles (and we all know how that battle turned out). If you need further proof that Wings was a lame aggregation, check out the video for “Spin It on,” one of the most abrasive shout fests Macca ever created. First off, it’s an ear-splitting rip off of Golden Earring’s “Radar Love,” and not a very good one at that. Secondly, it’s a track from “Back to the Egg,” Wings’ final studio album and their worst in a long line of turkeys.

Snyder tells the audience up front that Paul has forbidden him to ask about a Beatle reunion or question him about his past, which he does anyway. He gets away with it once, but seems reluctant to press any further. As a result, his other questions aren’t exactly probing and don’t break any new ground…How did the group start?...What was the pressure like of starting a new group after the Beatles?...Can you take the kids on tour?...The McCartney’s aren’t very forthcoming with their answers either. When Snyder traps himself in an inane discussion with Paul about sheep shearing, their discussion goes completely off the rails:

Snyder: Do sheep like being sheared?
McCartney: It’s better than being killed.

It’s McCartney who finally slaughters their sheepish forum: “This is an interesting conversation, isn’t it, Tom. Wool?”

Two members of Wings, guitarists Denny Laine and Lawrence Juber, are invited to join the interview. (Little did they know they’d soon be out of work. Laine had been with the McCartney’s for 10 years, Juber made it through one album.) Had Tom done his homework, he would have realized Laine was a celebrity in his own right, having been the original lead singer for the Moody Blues when they hit the charts with “Go Now” in 1964. He’s at least up on Laine’s current project, a solo album of songs written by Buddy Holly called “Holly Days.” Laine has always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder when it comes to the business behind the music and the press. He’s pleasant enough here, although his smile will remind you a bit of Sean Penn’s up-to- no-good grin. Juber is enthusiastic, photogenic and a bit star struck.

All aspiring journalists should study Snyder’s interview with the McCartney’s closely and do the exact opposite of everything Tom does. Nevertheless, Snyder’s interview with Macca and company is an informative look at the cute Beatle without his defensive shields up.

No George…Ringo

Richard Starkey’s 1981 interview marks his 40th birthday, and starts off rocky, but credit the man everyone (except his wife) calls Ringo for keeping the atmosphere light and positive. Blame Snyder’s off-putting bull-in-a-china shop style of interviewing for nearly turning the nicest Beatle against him. When Snyder doesn’t get what he wants from Ringo, he presses. Starr is clearly miffed with Snyder’s dirt-digging style, but he maintains his cool, and after a couple of sips from a nearby glass, he’s good old affable Ritchie again.

At this point it’s been nearly a year since John Lennon was shot, but Ringo still gets misty at the mention of the head Beatles’ name. The good news for Ringo at the time was the release of “Stop and Smell the Roses,” an album featuring an all-star cast, including Stephen Stills, Paul and George. Ringo was also hawking his latest film, “Caveman,” and had met his new wife, Barbara Bach, on the set. Unfortunately, “Stop and Smell the Roses” stank (as evidenced by the video for the vapid “Wrack My Brain,” written by George Harrison), and “Caveman” met with some initial success in the theaters, but was soon extinct. But Ringo and Barbara are still man and wife to this day, and that, I’m sure, is more important to Richard Starkey than anything else.

Ringo remains the most self-effacing Beatle. In discussing the failure of “Son of Dracula,” a dreadfully bad horror spoof he made with singer/composer Harry Nilsson, Ringo admits, “It wasn’t that good. They put it out in small towns so there wasn’t any competition, because they’d go and see Tom and Jerry before they’d go and see us.”

You also get to see fleeting glimpses of Ringo’s serious side. Speaking about his marriage to Barbara Bach, who joins him for part of the interview, Ringo says, “You can’t fight lightning.” Aha, the words of a man who’s truly in love. Echoing Lennon’s earlier comments, he addresses his image as “the dummy” of the group: “We did a few movies and suddenly that’s how people think you are the rest of the time.” He also talks about his sickly, troubled childhood -- “I went grey at eighteen. People would grab me and say, who do you think you are, Jeff Chandler?” (For those too young to know, Chandler was a popular Hollywood leading man in the late 50s and early 60s known as “The Silver Fox.” He met an untimely end during spinal surgery at the age of 42 from blood poisoning. Like Starr, he started to go grey at 18.)

Ringo seldom gets up on a soapbox, but he gets his hackles up over two topics -- his claim as the greatest drummer in rock (he makes a good case, but I’m still going with Jim Gordon), and promoters who’ve been getting free publicity for talking up a Beatle reunion.

Overall, Ringo remains the most affable, honest, and entertaining Beatle, and proves that nice guys can finish first. Too bad his interview is the shortest of the three.

For some reason only known to Shout Factory, an interview with actress Angie Dickinson ends the DVD. She’s pleasant and accommodating, but what the heck does she have to do with John, Paul, Ringo, or even the absent George? Okay, she appeared in Ringo’s TV special. I was in the movie “Valley of the Dolls.” (I’m in the ice skating scene that opens up the picture.) Does that mean I get face time in “The Sharon Tate Story?” That’ll cost you half a star (or Starr) for sloppy editing, fellas.

Like it or not, the Beatles were the sum of their parts, and Tom Snyder’s warts and all “Tomorrow Show” interviews point that out. Both Lennon and Starr start out wobbling in their Beatle boots before charming Tom and the audience. A bewildered McCartney and a hostile Linda underscore that the Beatles could be prickly and disinterested too. We sometimes forget they were human beings who didn’t always act the way we wanted them to. Beatle fans (like me) will rejoice at simply seeing the Fab Four (well, three) when they were younger, and, sadly, in John Lennon’s case, alive. So take a magical mystery tour with the new Fab Four -- John, Paul, Tom and Ringo.

Posted April 23, 2008 Permalink

Atonement

Atonement Keira Knightley, James Mcavoy 3.5 out of 5 stars for romantics 2 out of 5 stars for hedonists Reviewed for Coffeerooms by Mike Jefferson

(editor's note: Though I don't disagree with MJ's review and would strongly suggest the book over the movie, the girl in me must recommend the movie on the strength of the Green Dress which is uncredited but deserving of its own award.)

I have atoned for my many sins, having only dozed off twice while sitting through the dry as a doggie bone romance of “Atonement.” The film was recently nominated for seven Oscars and wound up winning just one – for best original score. The Academy can be shockingly wrongheaded when it comes to doling out awards, but in this case they got it right. There’s no doubt that “Atonement” deserved to be recognized, but “No Country For Old Men,” was the rightful winner for Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor. “Atonement” is a lavish period piece, manna for the eyes, and the music is lush and elegant. But stunning? Spellbinding? Those words best describe “No Country For Old Men” and “There Will Be Blood.” “Atonement” is a Lifetime movie with a bazillion dollar budget.

“Atonement” draws its strength from its landed gentry opulence, gritty hospital scenes and revolutionary, sweeping recreation of the British debacle at Dunkirk. The five minute Dunkirk tracking scene was shot with 1,000 extras in only four takes, and is one of the most ambitious, realistic and heart-wrenching depictions of war gone wrong to ever hit the screen. If director Joe Wright had made “Dunkirk” I’d stand in the street with a sandwich board proclaiming it the best film of the year.

That having been said, the romantic plot, the real meat of “Atonement,” moves with the speed of an arthritic butler, which means not at all. I know, English parlor dramas are all about sighs, glances, and what’s implied rather than said, but few of the characters in this movie have the slightest hint of a pulse and nothing of substance to talk about even after the big scandal. The central character, 13 year-old Briony Tallis (talented moppet Saoirse Rowan), is so bound up she twitters and blinks like an ostrich who’s about to stuff her head in a hole to avoid reality. The ill-fated lovers, Cecilia and Robbie are understandably conscious of their social standing (she’s rich, he weeds the garden), but are so smitten they talk in convoluted codes rather than actually speaking to one another. When they finally give in to their low-key passion, it’s in the library on the main floor of a mansion that looks like it sports 60 rooms to be very ungentlemanly and unladylike in. What, you two couldn’t sneak off to a deserted upper floor? The potentially scandalous romp between Cecilia and Robbie resembles a pair of mating squids and sets off the ire of Briony, who walks in on the coupling couple. Briony has a fanciful crush on Robbie and exacts her revenge on lawn boy when her cousin, Lola, is molested later that evening in the woods. Briony claims to have seen Robbie trying to make the beast with two backs with Lola, who goes along with the accusation because the truth might cast her in the role of willing participant rather than rape victim. Briony’s vengeful lie changes the lover’s lives forever. (Hell hath no fury like a teen geek scorned.) Robbie goes to jail and is branded a drooling child molester. When the Second World War breaks out, he’s given a choice, serve your country or serve the rest of your sentence.

I repeatedly had to remind myself I was supposed to be paying attention to what was going on. I wanted to give “Atonement” a four star review kids, and if I was in a committed, till-death-do-us-part relationship I might have. I guess my romantic side died from disinterest long ago -- or I simply don’t like watching films where the sound of my own snoring wakes me up.

“Atonement” is in the same category as “Wuthering Heights” – a star-crossed romance that’s a two hanky weeper. You’d think having had my love life sabotaged by a scurrilous lie I’d be a bit more sympathetic to Robbie and Cecilia’s plight. (In a way I am, hence the separate ratings.) At 17, I fell harder than an anvil factory for a girl I was convinced was the love of my life. Let’s call her C.C. for continuity’s sake. My betrayal came when a mutual friend told C.C. something so heinous about me she never spoke to me again and ran away like Flo Jo every time she saw me coming. Under the threat of disembowelment, our mutual “friend” admitted she’d lied, but never told me what cooked up crock she’d shared with C.C. My betrayer’s parting words were, “Of course you’ll fall in love again.” She was wrong. I lost my father, grandparents, an uncle and enough cousins to populate Frostbite Falls, Minnesota all within three months, and I’ve never felt anything as painful as the Grand Canyon-sized hole my aborted relationship with C.C. left behind. So you see I fully understand where “Atonement” is coming from. I just don’t like the laborious path it takes to get there.

As for the acting…I expect to take some heat for saying this, but Keira Knightley needs a big sandwich. The woman has a bad case of lollypop head. She can’t weigh more than 90 pounds and most of it is her oversized cranium. At one point she strips to her skivvies and jumps into a fountain to retrieve a piece of a valuable vase. When she comes up soaking wet with everything virtually see through, there’s nothing to see through. I know, it’s irrelevant for your ladies, but would have been like a biscuit to a starving horn dog reviewer whose head was already bouncing off the table. When James McAvoy (Robbie) gets an eyeful of his English Olive Oyl he looks away, and so will you. That having been said, Knightley may not stir the blood, but she conveys a convincing air of lovelorn doom. She’s no Merle Oberon or Vivian Leigh, but is one of the few actors allowed to show some verve and spunk in a film that wallows in its subtlety.

James McAvoy adequately fills the role of railroaded hero Robbie, a commoner with such high standards he doesn’t put up a fight when he’s wrongly accused of a dastardly crime. Robbie winds up in the big house, still nursing his longing for Cecilia and likely harboring a get even Jones for Briony. McAvoy gives a strong performance as Robbie by essentially being weak. He’s weak at the knees over Cecilia, powerless socially to challenge the accusations against him, and in his scenes at Dunkirk, he’s physically drained. Except for the scene in Cecilia’s apartment when he and Cecilia confront a now 18 year-old Briony, McAvoy has to let his character’s strong sense of morals do the acting for him. It’s not any easy task, and McAvoy would have benefited from a script that allowed him a chance to show more emotion. But when McAvoy’s tragic character is struggling through the madness at Dunkirk, you’ll pull for him to return to the arms of his beloved, so score a job well done for James.

The three actresses portraying Briony Tallis at various stages of her life have varying degrees of success. Saorise Ronan received an Oscar nomination for carrying the weight of playing Briony at age 13. Whenever an actor is effective enough to make you forget they’re still a child they’ve done a good job. Ronan twitches like a pubescent Don Knotts at times, but does so consistently. In the end, she’s a better Briony than exalted acting legend Vanessa Redgrave, who portrays the dying Briony, an acclaimed author, at age 77. Redgrave has to keep pace with the Briony’s jumpy personality (as established by Ronan), so you don’t get to see her typical Shakespearian fire. Ramola Garai’s overly cautious performance as an 18 year-old Briony gets a mulligan because she was the last actress cast to play the role. The Jill Ireland look alike spends most of her time on screen pop-eyed and scampering about the halls of a hospital like a mouse with her tail on fire, but is involved in one of the movies meatier and affecting scenes in which she comforts a dying French soldier.

Benedict Cumberbatch plays the foppish Paul Marshall, privileged heir to a chocolate factory, who plans to cash in by selling his candy to the British army when the war breaks out. A visiting college friend of Cecilia’s brother Leon (a bland Patrick Kennedy), Marshall takes a fancy to Briony’s 15 year-old cousin Lola Quincy (Rosey-cheeked Juno Temple, looking older than her real life 19 years). Faster than you can say, “Have some candy little girl?” Cumberbatch’s lecherous intent toward Lola demonstrates that rich snakes resort to the same crass come ons and hormonal misjudgment as folks on the dole. Temple’s Lolita-like qualities make up for Knightley’s lack of appeal. Paul and Lola’s shallow, lustful relationship is a mirror image of Cecilia and Robbie’s more chaste, romantic love affair. Maybe I’ve dwelled along life’s dark road for too long, but I found the chemistry between Paul and Lola more energetic and realistic than that of Cecilia and Robbie, and could have used more of their back story as a balance between “pure” and “lustful” love.

Timeless love stories transcend stilted dialogue and static scenes. “Atonement” does not. Witness Robbie’s opening voiceover:

“Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life, the man who, with clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.”

I would have lost C.C. a lot sooner if I’d uttered such sentimental drivel, and Robbie’s opening voiceover represents the best passage in the movie. At least you still have the scenes at Dunkirk to marvel at.

Extra Atoning

The expanded DVD makes it easier to atone and includes deleted scenes, commentary by director Joe Wright, and two features, “Bringing the Past to Life: The Making of Atonement,” and “From Novel to Screen: Adapting A Classic.” “The Making of Atonement” is highlighted by interviews with Wright, cast members, and producer Paul Webster, among others. The cast is as cordial off screen as off, particularly toward newcomer Saoirse Rowan, who is as bright and talented off screen as on. Knightley is sprightly and taken with the film’s costumes and the grandeur of Stokesay Court, which served as the Tallis’ mansion. McAvoy sports a distinguished Scottish brogue and mirrors his character’s humility. Summing up the film’s intent, McAvoy says, “It’s a story about storytelling.” Wright provides additional insight: “(Atonement) lulls you into lyrical passages then slams you.”

“The Making of Atonement” is highlighted by the “Retreat To Dunkirk” section, where the viewer gets an insider’s look at how the film’s most stunning sequences were shot. Lensed in the small seaside English town of Redcar, the Dunkirk beach scene cost a million pounds and cast a thousand locals as extras. The most amazing aspects of the project are the speed at which it was shot, (in order to avoid the incoming tide) and the historical authenticity.

When people talk about timeless romantic movies like “Gone Wind The Wind,” “Casablanca” or even “Ghost” twenty years from now, I’m willing to bet my ascot “Atonement” doesn’t make the top ten. Take a poll of the most memorable movies with the best cinematography and “Atonement” might get my vote, but beautiful isn’t always interesting. If that was the case, Sophia Loren would be the Pope, Catherine Deneuve would rule France and Penelope Cruz would qualify as a modern day Queen Isabella. (In this election year I’m staying clear of elected officials in the U.S.)

“Atonement” is certainly worth a look, especially if you what to slip back to a time of social teas, honor, chivalry and romance. But don’t let your expectations get the better of you. “Atonement” is like that pretty woman (or man) you’ve been chasing all you life. When you finally get a chance to connect, it’s disappointing to discover she’s wonderful to look at, she’s polite and intelligent, but she’s also a deadly bore.

Posted April 10, 2008 Permalink