What happened to the heat?

I was not aware of the 1971 film “The Beguiled” until the release of Sofia Coppola’s 2017 remake of the Gothic thriller. The original was the third film featuring Clint Eastwood as star and Don Siegel as director. Their most popular collaboration is “Dirty Harry,” released the same year as “The Beguiled.”

“The Beguiled” was an unusual project for a director and actor best known for their action movies. In fact, Siegel believed the movie’s failure at the box office was due to Universal Pictures’ marketing it as another Eastwood actioner. But their work on “The Beguiled” showed there was much more to their storytelling talent than showing the hard edges of testosterone-laden crime and punishment. They don’t abandon crime and punishment in “The Beguiled,” but women are running the action as the movie examines lust, loneliness and Southern sensibilities.

I also find it interesting to see how men perceive female behavior and motivations; the material is based on a novel by Thomas Cullinan. Yet we get to see those perceptions through the lens of screenplays written or co-written by women in both the 1971 and the 2017 adaptation. The 1971 film was written by Albert Maltz and Irene Kamp, both using pseudonyms, and the 2017 version was written by Sofia Coppola.

Jo Ann Harris and Clint Eastwood in "The Beguiled" (1971)

The story is simple enough. The women of a Confederate boarding school decide to harbor an attractive, wounded Union soldier near the end of the Civil War. Their isolation makes him especially predatory and makes them especially susceptible to his charms. It becomes a cat-and-mouse situation – but do the women represent cats or mice?

It’s an interesting story, and both films are well-made, but I’m afraid my biggest concern is the utter absence of heat in the Coppola version. One of the most enjoyable aspects of the story is the sexual tension and potential for release between the wounded soldier and the women at the school. Although I don’t think of Clint Eastwood as a sex symbol, but I do find him sexy in some of his early films, and this is one of them. His potential paramours in “The Beguiled” include Geraldine Page as the stern and stifled headmistress; Elizabeth Hartman as a chaste teacher; Jo Ann Harris as the minx; and Mae Mercer as a wise servant. All four actresses are excellent, and Eastwood generates considerable heat with all of them.

So I was expecting major fireworks in the 2017 remake, especially since Colin Farrell, essentially sex incarnate as far as I’m concerned, plays the lustful soldier. There’s a scene in the 2002 thriller “Minority Report” where Farrell quickly steps in front of Kathryn Morris to stop her from walking away from him, and the sex appeal he exuded in that completely nonsexual moment literally made me gasp.

Both movies feature sex scenes, but Coppola chose to leave a lot more to the imagination as far as the multiple seductions the soldier attempted – seductions that were far more important to the story than any consummation. There appeared to be a chemistry problem in her version as well. There was no chemistry between Farrell and Nicole Kidman and Elle Fanning, and only minimal chemistry between Farrell and Kirsten Dunst.

Coppola won the best director prize at the Cannes Film Festival, and her film is a lovely, austere, ethereal meditation on how vulnerable creatures are not necessarily harmless and the true nature of femmes fatale. She also keeps the war at bay, focusing strictly on the women and school girls and the soldier. But her film lacks the earthiness and realism that makes the original 1971 version so erotic in its crimes, understandably culminating in the extreme passions that insist on punishment in the end.

Embracing truth

BY THE BOOK

I read Yann Martel's wondrous book "Life of Pi" in 2013 for my book club. I remember reading the synopsis and not being very eager to dive into it. It sounded a bit like fantasy - being stranded on a boat with a Bengal tiger - and apart from "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy, I'm not a big fan of that genre. But I also noticed the terrific reviews it received along with winning the Man Booker Prize. And while I generally take reviews with a grain of salt regarding music and movies, I rely on them pretty regularly when it comes to literature. So encouraged by the good reviews and accolades along with the pressure of my book club meeting, I gave it a try. 

I was pleasantly surprised to be engrossed in it right from the start. And by the time I completed it, I felt genuine relief that the main character, Pi, had reached an end to his ordeal. That's not a spoiler exactly. If you watch the film, you know from the start that he will survive because the film beings with him telling his story to a writer. In the book, there's no writer; the reader just goes along with Pi on his journey. So I guess that's a spoiler. Sorry.

The story introduces Pi growing up in India with his father, mother and brother. His father owns a zoo, and Pi has a great affinity for the animals. He also develops a fervent interest in religion and begins to embrace multiple theologies, much to his father's chagrin. As Pi becomes a young man, he manages to remain respectful of his father's advice and tough lessons while still honoring his own truths.

But just as Pi begins to discover that most mysterious of belief systems - romantic love - with a local girl, he learns that his family must move to Canada and start a new life. They are taking the animals with them - not to start another zoo, but to sell. During a stormy night on rough seas, the ship sinks and Pi finds himself the lone human survivor on a life boat. His companions are a lame zebra, a hyena, a matriarchal orangutan and a ferocious Bengal tiger. 

Apart from the addition of the writer, the movie stays pretty true to the book, and I enjoyed watching what I  read come to life. My only quibble in that regard is how the orangutan comes to join Pi and his other stowaways on his little boat. In the book, her arrival is described as majestic and heartwarming as she rides a wave atop a big bunch of bananas. Ang Lee is a masterful director, but I didn't feel the emotional heft of that moment in the film. I consider it a minor point, though, and I commend Lee for doing a fantastic job of conveying all the other magical elements of the book on the screen.  

Getting to know Pi throughout his childhood exploration and adoption of several different religions was heartening. It reinforced the notion of how everything does not have to be all or nothing, black or white, when it comes to our beliefs. And his struggle to survive on the boat is informed by his open acceptance of God. When he finally comes through the experience, landing on the Mexican shore, he eventually has to tell how he came to be stranded on a boat with a motley crew of jungle creatures and how he survived. But the tale of his ordeal is found too fantastic for the practically minded pencil pushers to whom he has to recount it. So Pi tells another more realistic story to explain what he had been through, and he asks his audience - the insurance men in the book and the writer in the movie - which story they prefer. And that is the question the movie goers and the readers must ask themselves. Do you embrace the fantastic or the pragmatic? What is more appealing? What is more life-affirming? What is the truth? 

Easy living isn't easy

BY THE BOOK

In 1990, novelist Walter Mosley introduced the world to a tough, resourceful private detective going up against ruthless crime lords, corrupt politicians, femme fatales and antagonistic cops of the 1940s and ‘50s in the mold of Dashiell Hammett’s Sam Spade and Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe. The detective’s name is Easy Rawlins, and as a black man in the mostly white lineup of crime literature sleuths he brings an uncommon, riveting and relevant perspective.

As a huge fan of detective novels, I remember being thrilled to finally be able to read one that was well-written and engaging featuring African-Americans as the central characters. In addition to his deductive abilities, judicious use of strong-arm tactics, uncanny knack for getting out of tough situations and magnetism with the opposite sex – all traits the best gumshoes possess – Easy brings the specific burdens of being a black man seeking justice for others when he barely could expect justice for himself when needed. He has to be twice as smart as his adversaries within the case he’s working and in the society at large – so savvy that he can eliminate them entirely or make them see it’s in their best interests to go along with his best interests.   

Denzel Washington in "Devil in a Blue Dress"

Other readers and critics were just as impressed with Walter Mosley’s Easy Rawlins mysteries, and even though it’s often difficult even today to greenlight major motion pictures featuring black principal characters, Mosley’s first Easy Rawlins’ novel, “Devil in a Blue Dress,” made it to the big screen in 1995. By that time there had already been three more mysteries in the series published, all successful. But the biggest boost to getting the movie made had to be the box office power of the man set to play Easy – Denzel Washington, who served as a co-producer as well.     

Director Carl Franklin, who also wrote the screenplay, did a fine job of bringing Easy’s world of 1948 Los Angeles to life on the screen. After serving in WWII, Easy has purchased a house but can’t seem to find steady work to keep up his mortgage. Easy’s friend Joppy, who owns the local watering hole, introduces Easy to a man named Albright who needs help with a missing persons case. Albright, played with seedy abandon by Tom Sizemore, says he's working for a hotshot mayoral candidate whose fiancée, Daphne, is missing, but they don’t want to make a big fuss about it. Albright needs Easy because the fiancée, played by Jennifer Beals, has been known to hang around black clubs where Albright would not be given the time of day. Easy is reluctant at first because of his lack of experience and his lack of faith in Albright, but his lack of money wins out.

Of course, almost immediately after he starts asking around about Daphne, his troubles begin – troubles that escalate unrelentingly the way they do in detective stories until the case is solved. But although these troubles have a familiar air about them, the story is made fresh because of how Easy has to operate within the confines of the system and all the wonderful characters you meet along the way. It contains a motley crew of good-natured neighbors, oversexed vixens, ultraviolent thugs, evasive power brokers and, as referenced earlier, abusive cops.

In fairness, the cops are almost always abusive in detective stories – at least the ones that I’ve read and seen in movies. Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade nearly comes to blows with one of the cops working his case every time they see each other in “The Maltese Falcon.” They clearly don’t like each other, and the cop does hit Sam Spade in one scene, but even though you know they’d throw Spade in jail if Spade hit the cop back, the threat of what would happen to him in custody is not nearly as ominous as it would be for a black man in the same era. And considering the abuses and crimes against black men in police custody made public across the country in the last few years, times have not changed very much.  

Easy faces his share of danger and racial prejudices, but he has at least one ally he can rely on – one of the best characters in the books and easily the best character in the movie – Easy’s best friend Mouse, played wonderfully by Don Cheadle. If there’s such a thing as an endearing sociopath, Mouse is it. But then, you’d only find him endearing if he was on your side; otherwise, you’d find him terrifying. There are no shades of gray with Mouse – you’re either his friend, or you’re his enemy. Just as Easy finds himself getting in over his head with the case, Mouse swoops in like a blessing and a curse – a blessing when circumstances call for hard ball, a curse when they call for patience and subtlety. Cheadle plays him with humor and menace, but because the menace is born out of a basic outlook of “These are just the consequences of crossing me,” it doesn’t come off as vicious as much as practical (although it may seem vicious to the poor soul who steps on Mouse’s shoes without apologizing).

Jennifer Beals in "Devil in a Blue Dress"

But as much as I love superlative characters, unless you’re Terence Malick or Richard Linklater, I usually require a good plot, particularly in detective stories. The mystery is definitely satisfying, but it didn’t feel as compelling in the movie as it did in the book. It could be the story seemed more see-through because I knew it already, but that’s been true of other films I thought were better than the book.

Franklin definitely knows how to handle this kind of material. He did it brilliantly in his woefully little-seen 1992 film “One False Move” and again with Washington in 2003’s “Out of Time.” The film noir vibe was strong in “Devil in a Blue Dress” even without moody cinematography, but it lacked the gritty realism conveyed in Franklin's other films in this genre. There are some similarities to “Chinatown” because of the time period, location and one particular scene with the femme fatale, but I don’t mind them. I do think the element of danger and darkness would’ve been enhanced with a more vivid sense of people like the opposing mayoral candidates. And although I think highly of Washington’s acting ability, and he was solid in this movie, I couldn’t help feeling like there might have been another actor more suited to playing Easy. No one else comes to mind, but it’s a nagging thought.  

Overall, I enjoyed the ride, though, and was anxious to see a few sequels. But “Devil in a Blue Dress” did not get a warm reception at the box office, and no one has taken up the banner of bringing Easy to the big screen since, which I think is a shame. If not the big screen, in the right hands, it could be a phenomenal series for HBO – a different kind of true detective.

DIRECTOR: Carl Franklin | HEADLINERS: Denzel Washington, Jennifer Beals, Tom Sizemore, Don Cheadle

Fran Lebowitz on laziness

Originally posted on my Documentary page in May 2013. Reposted in honor of Fran Lebowitz's birthday (Oct. 27). 

I watched a documentary tonight about Fran Lebowitz called "Public Speaking" (2010). Martin Scorsese directed it. I had never heard of her before I read a review of this documentary in The New York Times earlier today. She's a modern day intellectual. I use the expression "modern day" because it's an archaic concept these days -- being an intellectual and that's all. It's typically tied to being a writer, and she is a writer. But she has not been prolific, and she hasn't written anything substantial in a long time. She basically just goes around speaking. She's a "wit," like Dorothy Parker, to whom she is often compared. It was a fascinating documentary, and she is or was friends with several people who inspire me, like Toni Morrison and James Baldwin. Anyway, she talked at one point about how lazy she's been -- that no one has been as lazy as she has as an artist. She mentioned how it was 1978 and then all of a sudden it was 2007, and she thought, "Gosh, I better get to work." I could identify with that. But what I really identified with was her reply when asked why she had procrastinated so long. She said that she had trouble with authority, including her own. It was good to hear that I'm not the only one who struggles with such inertia. I suppose it's not uncommon, though.