Dan Santelli: Why I Love THEY LIVE

BMFI concludes its summer season of The Late Show tonight at 11:30 pm with a screening of John Carpenter's 1988 cult classic, They Live. BMFI's Programming Intern, Dan Santelli, tells us why he loves this politically charged thriller. Dan will also introduce the film screening. Check back for additional posts by the BMFI staff and community members that explore the movies we love.

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Why I Love They Live
By Dan Santelli, Programming Intern, BMFI

As a movie lover, I’ve always held a personal—and admittedly contrarian—stance that societal problems and issues (be they contemporary or historical) are worked out better and are more attention grabbing when placed in the context of the genre film than that of the “prestige” film (a la Forrest Gump). With genre films, you know what to expect when you go to see one, which gives you a greater opportunity to uncover hidden subtexts and messages. Never has there been a better example of the transcending power of the genre film than John Carpenter’s 1988 thriller They Live, which will screen at BMFI tonight at 11:30 pm as the final entry in the summer season's Late Show series.

Director John Carpenter (Halloween, The Thing) with cast members on the set of They Live.

The premise of They Live is remarkably simple: Nada (WWE’s Rowdy Roddy Piper), a wandering construction worker, rolls into Los Angeles seeking a job. He discovers a box filled with sunglasses, which look as if they were stolen from the set of a Frankie Goes To Hollywood music video. When he tries on a pair, he realizes that the world he thought knew is merely a mirage created by power hungry, capitalist-minded extraterrestrials bent on brainwashing society with upper-class and conservative values.

From the get go, They Live is downright silly and preposterous, as all the Body Snatchers films and rip-offs inevitably are. And yet, this facet doesn’t undermine the movie as much as it only affirms Carpenter’s skill and assurance as a director. His deft, political touch involves us in the increasingly absurd tale of a burly, asocial hero as he blasts his way through Los Angeles conquering aliens and trading insults with them. It’d be too easy to criticize Piper’s characterization of Nada as less a full-fledged character than an expansion on his “Hot Rod” wrestling persona. Doing so misses the point. Much like Jack Torrance (Nicholson) in Kubrick’s The Shining, Nada is an archetype—a cipher standing in for the middle- and working-class Americans lost amidst the corruption and greed of the late ‘80s yuppie culture. Pitted in a world where friend could be foe and almost everyone’s against you, Nada carries the belligerent swagger of a conservative general (think Patton) with a liberal agenda.



John Nada (WWE Superstar "Rowdy" Roddy Piper) ready to kick some butt in They Live.

A USC film school grad who broke into the movies amidst the New Hollywood movement, Carpenter learned his craft by studying and lifting from masters such as John Ford, Sergio Leone, and Howard Hawks (his favorite director). With They Live, Carpenter indulges his love of the 1950s science fiction genre and their themes of Cold War paranoia (Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Thing from Another World, Red Planet Mars). He uses the tropes while turning their underlying values on their head. What was once a genre telling the audience to “fear the outsider” and promote conservative values has been updated and injected with liberal minded ideology, as well as Carpenter’s contempt for the ‘80s approach to those right-wing politics.

They Live might not be Carpenter’s greatest film, but it remains an essential 1980s genre outing and the work of an oft-misunderstood auteur. Furthermore, it possesses a power that most non-genre films lack because it plays to the mass movie-going public by employing genre conventions while, simultaneously, expressing social/political fears and anxieties in the subtext. With They Live, John Carpenter transcends the genre tropes, while still adhering to them, and offers an elaborate, scrutinizing examination of—at least from Carpenter’s viewpoint—the “evils” of Reaganomics and the ills it inflicted upon society. You might not agree with Carpenter’s political agenda, but there’s no denying his ambitions.



"They" demand that you attend a screening of Mr. Carpenter's They Live.

In this respect, he ranks alongside fellow filmmaker and pop-satirist Joe Dante, whose vastly underappreciated Small Soldiers—a scathing anti-war satire disguised as a kids’ summer blockbuster—plays like a hybrid of Dante’s own Gremlins and They Live by creating an intelligent argument against the practice of packaging war for mass youth consumption. The Dante/Carpenter comparison could be explored further, on a surface level at least, as both directors are apparent cinephiles and Baby Boomers who grew up in the 50s and 60s, compulsively consuming science fiction and horror movies. This love is expressed through each director’s filmography, which divides critics, audiences, and cineastes, but has garnered both directors massive international cult followings (particularly in France). Their subversive wit, macabre interests, and scattershot bankability has ultimately forced them to work outside the studio system in order to express their love and craft.

Directors John Carpenter (above) and Joe Dante (below): Masters of the (Subversive) Macabre.

Of course, one can’t discuss They Live without noting what is, perhaps, the movie’s most memorable scene: an infamously prolonged slugfest between Piper and actor Keith David. Beginning around the 56-minute mark and lasting nearly five minutes, it’s a pile-driving, bruise-beating, no-holds-barred brawl that almost seems to have been extracted from a Chuck Norris movie. At least Carpenter has the sense of humor and intelligence to have fun with the scene—he noted in a making-of documentary that since he cast a notable wrestler as the lead, he might as well exploit his talents in the movie. As noted by film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum in his review of They Live, the Howard Hawks influence on Carpenter’s work might explain why he would extend this scene to the degree that he did: “buddies have to slug it out in order to become friends.” Boy, do they ever.

They Live is crude, lewd, trashy, goofy, and sensationally silly. At the same time, it’s an endlessly entertaining and thoughtful rumination on the ‘80s culture, with messages and themes which continue to be relevant today, post-9/11. Piper more than holds his own amidst the chaos and, while he’s by no means the world’s greatest actor, develops a persona that’s charismatic and charming. He’s a classic John Wayne-inspired Carpenter hero. Alongside the (lovingly) cheesy humor and rough-and-ready special effects is director Carpenter working to provoke thought in his audiences with stimulating political allegories and social criticism. It’s a singular, ridiculous hoot and Carpenter wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if you don’t agree with the subtext, it’s impossible not to appreciate the sublime ridiculousness of a movie that contains the line “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass…and I’m all out of bubblegum.”



They Live, We Sleep: Sunglass vision reveals the aliens in hiding.

Below is the They Live "making-of" documentary referenced above. Enjoy!

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Dan Santelli, BMFI's Programming Intern, is a 2012 graduate of Temple University with a Bachelor's degree in Film and Media Arts. A lifelong cineaste, his favorite films (in no particular order) include Leon: The Professional, The Night of the Hunter, Touch of Evil, Blue Velvet, Brazil, Apocalypse Now, Dressed To Kill (1980), Halloween, and Les Yeux Sans Visage.

Gus Cileone: Why I Love BRAZIL

BMFI will screen Terry Gilliam's cult favorite Brazil next Friday as part of The Late Show's tribute to "'80's Hollywood Oddities". One of BMFI’s most dedicated patrons, Gus Cileone, offers us his take on this bizarre sci-fi comedy. (You can find another perspective on Brazil from BMFI Programming Intern, Dan Santelli.) Check back for additional posts by BMFI staff and community members that explore the movies we love.

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Why I Love Brazil
By Gus Cileone, BMFI Patron, Student, and Volunteer

Since I was a Federal employee with the Department of Veterans Affairs for 35 years, I am familiar with the machinations of bureaucracy. I experienced the crazy regulations and redundant procedures imposed upon me as a civil servant as I worked to finalize disability claims for veterans. Although one can experience the frustrations of the individual confronting large institutions in the private sector as well (anyone who has tried to get his or her cable company to fix a problem knows about that), the fear of a centralized, all powerful entity strikes totalitarian fear into those who particularly value personal freedom.

Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce, left) arguing over bureaucratic issues with co-worker Harvey Lime (Brazil's screenwriter, Charles McKeown, right) at Information Retrieval.

So, it's not surprising that a movie like Brazil would draw my interest given my work background. Add to that the fact that I am a Monty Python fan, and Terry Gilliam is the director, and the deal is sealed. The film is a dark comic take on the plot of 1984, with a Big Brother government and modern technology that looks old (very much the way the future appears in Gilliam's 12 Monkeys). There is the dissatisfied worker, Sam Lowry (played by Jonathan Pryce), who is drawn into the resistance movement because of a girl (in this case Jill, played by Kim Greist). The individual is not successful here, either, at least not in the "real" world. The difference is that while 1984 is deadly serious, Gilliam pulls out all the stops and turns the cautionary tale into a satire.

Air ducts represent one of the primary visual motifs in Terry Gilliam's Brazil.

Probably the most effective images Gilliam employs in the movie are ugly air ducts that snake through every room in this brave new world. They look like the tentacles of a huge monster invading everyone's lives. There is a great scene where Robert De Niro appears as a renegade repairman dressed like a military commando. In it, he opens up the walls of Lowry's flat and the ducts expand and contract, as if breathing. This metaphor is an apt one showing the intrusion of the government into individual lives. This privacy invasion is also seen when the two main characters are physically prodded by machines as Lowry goes to his mother's party and Jill confronts a government official about the wrongful abduction of her neighbor. It also seems that the film is saying that the more mechanized our society becomes, the more chances there are for the machines to break down. There are numerous illustrations of this fact, what with Lowry's coffee machine pouring liquid on his toast, his air conditioning breaking down, and plastic surgeries becoming fatal. When "Central Services" is called to fix things, they are either unavailable, don't have the proper paperwork, or create more damage instead of repairing anything. The phones in the film have the most annoying ring tone around, sounding like a demonic dentist drill. Of course, the more things break down, the more the population is dependent on those in control of the systems in place.


Totalitarian regimes try to control their subjects by manipulating the outward appearance of the world in contrast to the underlying reality. The emphasis on having plastic surgery in the film illustrates this idea. Also, in the movie, the food at the restaurant served to each person is a yucky mush. But each plate is accompanied by a picture of a savory meal, implying that is the reality they are to buy into. And explosions are ignored as room screens are placed around the diners' table, promoting the idea that one should ignore the negative elements in the environment.

Lowry's boss, Mr. Kurtzmann (Ian Holm), greeting his employees in the morning.

The paperwork here is labyrinthine, where you need a receipt to show proof that you have received a receipt. It is paralyzing and strikes fear into people (such as Lowry's boss, played by Ian Holm) if procedures aren't followed, which appears to be the goal of the organization. Gilliam seems to be saying that this type of world wants people to be frustrated and feel powerless. Another brilliant and devastating image occurs when in Lowry's dream state, the resistance blows up the Ministry of Information and there is paper everywhere. The paper covers and entangles De Niro, and he disappears in it, symbolizing how the individual is lost in the whirlwind of bureaucratic red tape. The effect of the dehumanizing bureaucracy is shown in the offices where Lowry goes after his promotion. There are numbers on office doors, not names. His office is so small it looks like a closet, or the size of a prison cell. People are seen as becoming diminished and restricted. But Gilliam never shows us any manipulating, all powerful heads of state. It’s as if this bureaucratic and mechanistic construct here has a life of its own.

One of the many propaganda slogans that indicate the skewed mindset of Brazil's totalitarian government.

One of the posted signs in the street says "Suspicion breeds confidence." People have been taught to suspect each other. That way, they will not band together, and become stronger. Later in the film, Lowry asks Jill to trust him, and realizes that he has to earn her trust if they are to succeed. There is another sign which reads "Happiness – we're all in it together," which is an anesthetizing slogan to placate the people. When De Niro says, "We are all in it together," it is genuine because it is in the context of the power of joined resistance to authoritarianism.


The soundtrack has the song "Brazil" being played. It is a Latin-infused, fun, liberating song that stands in contrast to the lives of the characters. Lowry escapes his claustrophobic, penal colony of a world by losing himself in a dream state. There, he flies on Daedalus wings in the sky, pursuing his blonde fantasy (also Jill), doing battle with the monsters imprisoning her. (Robin Williams lives in a similar fantasy in Gilliam's The Fisher King). In the end, when he is a restrained captive, Lowry's body may be enslaved, but his mind has escaped into the freedom of his imaginary world.

Dan Santelli: Why I Love BRAZIL

BMFI will screen Terry Gilliam's cult favorite Brazil next Friday as part of The Late Show's tribute to "'80's Hollywood Oddities". BMFI's Programming Intern, Dan Santelli, tells us why he loves this bizarre sci-fi comedy. (You can find another perspective on Brazil from BMFI Patron, Student, and Volunteer, Gus Cileone.) Check back for additional posts by BMFI staff and community members that explore the movies we love.

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Why I Love Brazil
By Daniel Santelli Jr., BMFI Programming Intern

One of the reasons I go to the movies is to see something I can’t see anywhere else. Cinema, like many other art forms, has the power to transport the spectator to another world and visualize sights beyond those of the real world and our imaginations. Even movies grounded in a realistic location possess the power to defamiliarize its setting when the narrative is injected with a heightened sense of fantasy (Leon: The Professional is a popular example, Eyes Without a Face a more obscure one). By the time I was eight, I’d made my way through classics such as The Wizard of Oz, The Night of the Hunter, E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, King Kong, and Hitchcock’s Psycho—the latter without the consent of my parents. Naturally, it was only a matter of time before I would encounter the wondrous cinematic nirvana that is Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, which is showing at BMFI as part of The Late Show series on Friday, July 6 at 11:30 pm.

Sam Lowry: Dream warrior (Jonathan Pryce) takes flight in Brazil.

Nothing short of a masterwork, Brazil’s episodic narrative concerns Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce), a working-class, thirty-something, low-level government employee. He’s content with his position and frustrated by his friends' and mother's persistent attempts to promote him. His job becomes even more hectic when a faulty computing error sends out an incorrect arrest warrant. These conflicts combine to cause Lowry’s life and career to spiral out of control. His only escape into pure happiness is through his dreams, where he’s dressed in metallic armor and sports mechanical wings. The film is populated with an array of bizarrely wonderful characters, including Sam Lowry’s plastic surgery-obsessed mother (Katherine Helmond), Sam’s long-time friend, Jack (Michael Palin), and Harry Tuttle (Robert De Niro, in a small, but pivotal role), a heating engineer/freedom fighter.

Noir-ish lighting greets Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce), as he arrives for his first day of work at Information Retrieval in Terry Gilliam's Brazil.

Having grown up in Boardman, Ohio, I can say that it was, more or less, like being raised inside of a cardboard box. There’s little to do in the way of sightseeing and very limited opportunities for children to engage in activities outside of sports and the library. Being the son of a musician-turned-psychologist (Mom) and a steel engineer (Dad), it seems almost baffling that my principal interest would be movies. Furthermore, my insatiable desire for movies grew into a near unhealthy obsession, proved by my constant request to stay up late to watch Turner Classic Movies and my sneaking downstairs to watch my father’s video collection after dark on Saturdays—which is how I finally saw Brazil.

Viewing the movie in 1998 on VHS, I was confounded by the movie's politics, but entranced by the surreal visuals and sight gags. The sight of Robert De Niro wrestling through an endless maze of air ducts and wires was always a chief favorite. In fact, it inspired me to replicate the look of the Tuttle character for a failed Halloween costume. Even for a 132-minute film, there was never a moment in which I was bored and, more than any movie at the time, I identified with the plight of the main character, Sam Lowry.

 

Sam Lowry, slugging through yet another dull day of bureaucratic madness at Information Dispersal.

Interestingly enough, it’s important to note that Sam Lowry is one of the few “reactionary” characters in modern movies. In a time when screenwriters and directors are consistently reminded that characters should act on personal motivation and in response to the actions of opposing characters, it’s a breath of fresh air to view this unusual characterization of a man who simply reacts to the situations around him. Sure, Sam Lowry’s objective could be labeled as “to achieve happiness”, but he’s already achieved it at the beginning of the picture. He’s a middle-class individual working as a low-level typist in a bureaucratic office, but persistently states that he’s content with his position. Only when he accepts promotion to Information Retrieval—because he wants to discover the identity of a mysterious woman (Kim Griest) in his dreams—is he bewildered by the increased workload and sinks into sadness. Lowry’s tendency to react, as opposed to act, resembles film scholar David Bordwell’s dictum on character psychology (identified as “psychological causation”) in art films in his essay “The Art Cinema as a Mode of Film Practice”:

“…whereas the characters of the classical narrative have clear-cut traits and objectives, the characters of the art cinema lack defined desires and goals. Characters may act for inconsistent reasons (Marcello in La Dolce Vita) or may question themselves about their goals (Borg in Wild Strawberries and the Knight in The Seventh Seal). Choices are vague or nonexistent” (96).

Oddly enough, Sam Lowry is one of the film characters with whom I most identify. As a teenager, you’d find me seated amongst horror fan boys in the local movie house watching obscure Lucio Fulci movies. Other times, I’d simply be at home reading up on Freud, dutifully finishing homework, or attempting to crack the code on how to write a proper, filmic setpiece. Many of my peers might’ve perceived these activities as mundane, but, like Lowry, I stuck to what got me the most pleasure out of life. My attitude towards grade school was almost a mirror image of Lowry’s attitude toward work: make one’s way through the day and don't allow oneself to get involved in anything that would terminate one’s own happiness.

Dream warrior Sam Lowry unmasks the dreaded metallic samurai haunting his nightmares in Brazil.

I might not possess all the “reactionary” characteristics of Sam Lowry that I once did; I’ve since become someone who ambitiously pursues new opportunities and challenges. Nevertheless, I believe that any post-graduate in their early 20s can identify Lowry’s state of aloofness. No matter what someone’s plans, hopes, and dreams are, the life of a post-graduate is strange, mysterious, conflicting, and life-changing. You’re not sure what’s coming at you, let alone whether you can deal with it or not, and one simply tries make it through life one day at a time. Lowry very much embodies this: he is baffled by the society he lives in, the corrupt government, and, despite being in his thirties, is still unsure enough to state “I don’t know what I want” in one particular scene. As Sam Lowry, Mr. Pryce is eloquent and sincere, compelling yet vulnerable, and perhaps Gilliam’s answer to Woody Allen’s recurring central characters. He’s an idealist living in a world where every citizen’s future is mapped out from the get-go.

Sam Lowry's dream girl, Jill Layton (Kim Greist).

Having revisited Brazil at least a dozen times, I’m surprised at how fresh the movie after the 27 years since its release. While there is some material that is of its time, there is a timeless quality to the political commentary that makes the humor endure. I often find myself laughing hysterically at one particular bit when Sam enters his new office at Information Retrieval and engages in a tug-of-war over desk space with the conspicuous Harvey Lime (played by the film’s screenwriter and frequent Gilliam collaborator, Charles McKeown).

None of this would be possible without the directorial vision of Terry Gilliam, one of cinema’s great visionaries. He marries the melancholic tone of Orwell’s 1984 with the absurdist humor of Monty Python to create a poignant satire of modern society. His mannerist camerawork and staging border on feverish and hallucinatory, but that just furthers the effect. His most significant achievement was making a movie that is at once political, personal, and visionary—there’s no other movie that looks, sounds, or even remotely feels like it. It’s purely a tightrope act: Gilliam climbs the ladder, walks across the tightrope, keeps on going, and never looks down.

Director Terry Gilliam's surreal signature style envelops every nightmarish frame of Brazil.

Alongside David Lynch’s equally deranged and surreal Blue Velvet, Brazil remains, for me, the highpoint of 1980s cinema. Not everyone agreed. America’s most popular film critic, Roger Ebert, found the movie “very hard to follow” and claimed that it was “awash in elaborate special effects, sensational sets, apocalyptic scenes of destruction and a general lack of discipline.” Pauline Kael praised Gilliam’s vision as an “original, bravura piece of moviemaking,” but found the drama lacking and Pryce’s performance to be “charmless”. The film’s reputation and popularity have risen dramatically since its release; now it is a cult film favorite and considered a modern masterpiece. Even more so, the film’s satirical jabs at ‘80s politics and pop culture (Helmond’s plastic surgery process is simultaneously abhorrent and humorous) have positioned it in a pantheon alongside Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove as one of cinema’s most potent satires. At the very least, Brazil is a visual feast for the eyes. At the best of times, it’s transcendent. As Ebert used to note, it’s the kind of movie you get when the inmates start taking over the asylum.

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Dan Santelli, BMFI's Programming Intern, is a 2012 graduate of Temple University with a Bachelor's degree in Film and Media Arts. A lifelong cineaste, his favorite films (in no particular order) include Leon: The Professional, The Night of the Hunter, Touch of Evil, Blue Velvet, Brazil, Apocalypse Now, Dressed To Kill (1980), Halloween, and Les Yeux Sans Visage.

A Look at The Late Show: '80s Hollywood Oddities

This summer, BMFI's The Late Show series is showing some true "'80s Hollywood Oddities", selected studio pictures from the decade of excess that have spawned cult followings and break the conventions of Hollywood. BMFI's Programming Intern, Dan Santelli, discusses the five films featured and what makes them unique.

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A Look at The Late Show: '80s Hollywood Oddities
By Dan Santelli, Jr., BMFI Programming Intern

Beginning this Friday, the summer season of BMFI’s The Late Show series will kick off with an 11:30 pm screening of Jim Henson and Frank Oz’s dark fantasy, The Dark Crystal. The Late Show’s theme this summer is “'80s Hollywood Oddities”, a selection of some of the more offbeat outings from the American studios amidst a decade of excess, including films by American independent maverick John Carpenter, puppet wizards Jim Henson and Frank Oz, television-director-turned-studio-director Robert Greenwald, and Monty Python’s very own expatriate, Terry Gilliam. In each of their films, these directors were able bypass the studio’s ideology to produce films for mass consumption and create strange, perverse, and personal expressions that have stood the test of time. Even if the films’ box-office performance was mediocre at best—The Dark Crystal and They Live were the only two genuine hits—their idiosyncratic styles have garnered cult followings.

The evil Skeksis plan to stop Jen from accomplishing his quest in The Dark Crystal.

The 1982 feature The Dark Crystal follows the adventures of a “Gelfling” on a quest to retrieve the missing piece of a magical crystal. Finding the shard and completing the crystal is the only possible method of restoring order on his planet. What lies beneath the veneer of this "family-friendly," Tolkien-inspired fable is a bizarre, mythical tale featuring some of the strangest creatures ever to emerge from the Jim Henson Workshop and several set-pieces exhibiting an array of grotesque visuals—it’s not every day you see a vulture-like King crumble and fall apart postmortem in a movie purported to be aimed at children.

The samurai warrior blocks our hero's progress during a dream sequence in Terry Gilliam's Brazil.

On July 6, BMFI will screen the director’s cut of Terry Gilliam’s 1985 dystopian, black-comedy Brazil. Running at 142 minutes, the director’s cut restores approximately ten minutes of footage (most of which expands the film’s nightmarish ending) and reconceives the film’s central dream sequence—in which our hero, bureaucrat Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce), battles a giant, metallic samurai—as a full set-piece. The film’s many aesthetic pleasures and visionary depiction of a retro-future gone horribly wrong are enough to warrant a big-screen experience, regardless of whether you’ve seen the movie or not. Furthermore, Brazil’s critique of humanity’s dependence on technology and reworking of Orwellian themes has influenced a number of science-fiction films.

Men of the hour: actor Kurt Russell (left) and director John Carpenter (right) on the set of Big Trouble in Little China.

Two John Carpenter films, 1986’s Big Trouble in Little China (showing on July 28) and 1988’s They Live (showing on August 24), will be screened as well. In Big Trouble, all-American trucker Jack Burton (Carpenter favorite Kurt Russell) finds himself in the middle of a mystical battle between ancient forces while helping to rescue a damsel-in-distress. All of which leads up to a climactic battle with the evil sorcerer Lo Pan (James Hong). While there may be little in the way of a sociological critique, director Carpenter’s sheer audacity to combine the spirit of Howard Hawks with martial arts, humor, and full-blooded action is nothing short of revelatory and an escape from mindless by-the-numbers formulas. A $25 million studio blockbuster, Big Trouble’s poor performance at the box office—due in part to poor marketing and being released amidst the hype of James Cameron’s Aliens—led Carpenter to return to his roots as an independent genre filmmaker.

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The aliens would want you to leave your sunglasses at home when you come to see They Live.

Carpenter’s subversive cult classic They Live is a post-modern reimagining of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, as well as a blistering critique of Reaganomics and the excessive nature of the era. WWE’s Rowdy Roddy Piper stars as a wandering construction worker who, through the power of his magic sunglasses, discovers a group of aliens in disguise as the upper-class. Filled with cheesy fun, hilarious lines, and politically astute sensibilities, They Live is a hoot.

Speaking of cheesy, Robert Greenwald’s kitschy cult classic Xanadu, starring Grease’s Olivia Newton-John, will screen on August 7. Greenwald’s musical concerns Greek goddess Kira (Newton-John) and her influence on two men to transform an auditorium into a giant roller rink/nightclub. A flop upon its initial release, Xanadu, like all of the former titles, achieved legendary cult status due to repeat playing on late night television and a ‘90s VHS release. Featuring legendary star Gene Kelly in his final film role, enjoy the fun romp that is Xanadu.

Greek muse Kira (Olivia Newton-John) sings 'n skates her way through Robert Greenwald's Xanadu.

These pictures, for better or worse, are representative of a time when the Hollywood studios dared to produce or distribute a product that today would be considered “unmarketable”. It has been twenty-two years since the end of the ‘80s, but the decade lives on in each of these films, subversive time capsules that reflect the changes in ideological beliefs, bygone trends, or the once lenient limitations of what constituted a children’s movie.

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Dan Santelli, BMFI's Programming Intern, is a 2012 graduate of Temple University with a Bachelor's degree in Film and Media Arts. A lifelong cineaste, his favorite films (in no particular order) include Leon: The Professional, The Night of the Hunter, Touch of Evil, Blue Velvet, Brazil, Apocalypse Now, Dressed To Kill (1980), Halloween, and Les Yeux Sans Visage.

"Blood Red Kisses" and "White Hot Thrills": Reflections on KISS ME DEADLY

BMFI will screen Robert Aldrich's classic film noir Kiss Me Deadly on 35 mm as part of The Late Show film series this Friday, May 25 at 11:30 pm. Our Programming Intern, Dan Santelli, reflects on the infamous film noir and its history.

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The obscure opening title, descending from top to bottom, set the mood for the strange movie to follow in Kiss Me Deadly.

Robert Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly, which will be screened as part of The Late Show series on Friday at 11:30 pm, begins with that classic plot jump off point for the crime narrative: the Girl on the Run. Christina Bailey (Cloris Leachman, in her first feature film appearance), begs to be taken to the nearest bus station and urges the driver, should she not “make it”, to remember her name. The opening titles commence. The madness begins.

A hybrid of old school mystery-thriller, atomic age horror, and hard-edged cinematic nihilism, Kiss Me Deadly culminates to form one of the more perverse, pessimistic, and subversive social/political commentaries of its time. Standing proudly alongside other classics such as Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil, Charles Laughton’s The Night of the Hunter, and Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past, Kiss Me Deadly more than fits the bill as a “textbook” example of film noir in terms of form and atmosphere.

"Remember me, remember my name" pleads Christina (young Cloris Leachman) to Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker) in Kiss Me Deadly.

Unlike these pictures, however, Kiss Me Deadly was an independently produced feature and directed by non-studio director Aldrich. The resulting film hardly made a dent upon release in America, but the independent factor allowed for greater leeway to include violent content. Furthermore, it allowed director Aldrich to break the genre expectations and incorporate personal observations on the time and culture of the 1950s. What was billed as a “no-holds-barred” crime caper ultimately turned out to be a savage critique of the silliness surrounding ‘50s Cold War paranoia and McCarthyism with strong science fiction overtones in the last act.

Mike Hammer's futuristic looking answering machine in Kiss Me Deadly.

Ignored in the States (its sole champions were film critics Manny Farber and Andrew Sarris), Kiss Me Deadly would go on to be tauted in France for its style by Cahiers du Cinéma then-critics François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard. Even more important, the film’s radical visual style heightened its importance, as it became a sort-of “template film” for all involved in the French New Wave.

While Kiss Me Deadly is more fun for those who walk into the movie cold, the plot follow private-eye Mike Hammer, a low-life scumbag with a Fascist mentality that makes the hardboiled masculinities of Sam Peckinpah and Lee Marvin seem small and diminutive. After picking up Christina and being attacked by goons, Mike’s misadventures lead him to encounters with beautiful, but highly critical, women and marauding criminals seeking out the great “whatsit”, a small suitcase-like object that became the chief inspiration for the suitcase in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction.

Ralph Meeker as the brutish and sadistic Mike Hammer in Kiss Me Deadly.

Kiss Me Deadly, like most films, would've never become the essential classic it’s recognized as without actor Ralph Meeker’s characterization of Mickey Spillane’s popular private-eye, Mike Hammer. Never has a name been more suited to character’s persona. Mark Gross, in his write-up for last year’s home video release by the Criterion Collection, describes Meeker’s Hammer as a “walking, talking, 6 foot, 180 pound sneer”. This is putting it lightly. Meeker’s injection of ultra-machismo into the character makes the misogynistic ramblings of comedian Andrew Dice Clay resemble the lyrics of a Miley Cyrus tune. He’s a tough-talking, no nonsense, borderline psychotic can-of-whoop-ass waiting to be unleashed on the unsuspecting goons.

The irony of the situation, one could argue, is that Hammer himself is perhaps even worse a person than those he’s fighting against. But like all the great antiheros, Meeker’s charismatic charm and humorous approach to nihilism compels one to follow him through the end. Director Aldrich wisely counterpoints Hammer’s intensity in one scene with a tender love scene between him and his girlfriend in the next, highlighting the duality of the character. Sometimes these two extreme opposites occur in the same scene. Ultimately, what might have been a one-dimensional stick figure becomes a dynamic three-dimensional character, albeit seemingly trapped in a world that’s visually and figuratively “black and white”. You may not like him, but you can’t take your eyes off him.

One of Hammer's interrogation techniques: crushing the culprit's fingers in a desk drawer.

While the formal elements of 1950s films might appear dull and televisual when compared to the kinetic camerawork of the current day, Kiss Me Deadly remains unconventionally energetic with an abundance of activity happening in and out of the frame. Photographed by Ernest Laszlo (whose work on Stanley Kramer’s Ship of Fools would earn him a Best Cinematography Oscar), the frames are filled with hard lighting and obscure shadows. There are hints of the work of cinematographers Nicolas Musaraca (Cat People) and the German Expressionists, most notably Karl Freund (Metropolis). Film noir style might be best known for this lighting convention, but Aldrich’s camera and staging are two of the film’s biggest stars. Filled with fluid tracking shots and meticulous staging of the actors, Aldrich’s rushed production schedule doesn’t seem to have hindered his indulgence in exploiting the cinematic form. In particular, a scene in which Hammer drops in on an opera singing tenant features two long takes of such consummate quality that they rival some of the best staging by Orson Welles.

From left to right: Director Robert Aldrich, actor Nick Dennis, dialogue coach Rick Sherman, and actor Ralph Meeker on the set of Kiss Me Deadly.

Director Robert Aldrich would go on to have a superior career in feature filmmaking with such classics as The Dirty Dozen, What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?, The Longest Yard (with Burt Reynolds), and Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte. More underrated efforts include The Killing of Sister George, The Choirboys, and The Grissom Gang. Aggressive masculine nature exists underneath the veneer of most of these works, but never was it more exploited, or more expressively so, than in Kiss Me Deadly.

Kiss Me Deadly serves as a reminder that genre films have the power to transcend the cinematic art form as well as the culture, sometimes even more than the “art” film, by burying social and political critiques underneath the surface in the subtext. The influence of Kiss Me Deadly can be found in a wide range of work like the French New Wave films of Godard and Truffaut (certain set-pieces in Breathless and Shoot the Piano Player are directly inspired), ’70s Sidney Lumet movies (Dog Day Afternoon), the "cinema du look" films by Luc Besson (particularly Leon: The Professional), the cine-literate work of Quentin Tarantino, and the thrillers of Brian De Palma.

Mike Hammer's (Ralph Meeker) first encounter with the potentially deadly "Great Whatsit" box.

Even though it’s virtually impossible not to have encountered the influence of Kiss Me Deadly, the classic is not generally known to mainstream American moviegoers. This tragedy is understandable, chiefly because its initial 1955 release was very limited due to the Kefauver Commission of Congress's attempted ban of the film. Even in the markets that chose to play the film, audiences didn’t seem to take notice and Kiss Me Deadly eventually drifted into obscurity in America. MGM’s VHS, laserdisc, and DVD releases have helped expose the movie to today’s audiences and the recent Criterion Collection Blu-ray release is yet another attempt.

Very few films made match the exuberant joy in embracing pop-nihilism like seeing Kiss Me Deadly. A masterful combination of art, commerce, and politics, it stands as a high water mark for the American crime film and a step forward into modern movie sensibilities. If this is your first time and, better yet, you know little more than what you’ve read, I envy you. To quote the emphatic mechanic who makes his first appearance at the sixteen minute mark: “VA VA VOOM, PRETTY POW!!!”

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Dan Santelli, BMFI's Programming Intern, is a 2012 graduate of Temple University with a Bachelor's degree in Film and Media Arts. A lifelong cineaste, his favorite films (in no particular order) include Leon: The Professional, The Night of the Hunter, Touch of Evil, Blue Velvet, Brazil, Apocalypse Now, Dressed To Kill (1980), Halloween, and Les Yeux Sans Visage.

SECRETARY: Ten Years of Hard Work and Rough Play

Tonight, BMFI will screen Steven Shainberg's Secretary as part of "The Late Show" film series. Our Programming Intern, Dan Santelli, takes a look at this indie hit, its roots in classical Hollywood, and the film's treatment of sadomasochism.

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Secretary: Ten Years of Hard Work and Rough Play
By Dan Santelli, BMFI Programming Intern

In 2002, director Steven Shainberg’s Secretary, which will be screened tonight as part of BMFI’s "The Late Show" series, served up a steamy romance between actors James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal in the form of an office relationship propelled by sadomasochism. What begins simply as routine spanking sessions for Miss Gyllenhaal’s typing errors becomes complicated when romantic attraction affects both of them.

While some audiences may understandably perceive such material as crass, Secretary’s approach is much livelier and, dare I say, funnier than one would likely expect. With a narrative structure resembling the classic Hollywood romances of the 50s and 60s, Secretary is more traditional than most of the indie features that were on the market at the time. The injection of sadomasochism is perhaps the only subject matter that would potentially turn off anyone over the age of 18 from seeing this surprisingly delightful romp.

If anything, screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson, who adapted Mary Gaitskill’s short story, and director Steven Shainberg deserve nods and acclaims for their successful attempt to rework old material and present in a manner making it appear fresh. Furthermore, their courage to take a subversive risk at a time when the American film industry played it safe due to post-9/11 anxieties is brave and daring.

Maggie Gyllenhaal's character, Lee Holloway, performs her daily morning routine in Secretary.

Secretary was certainly not the first feature film to dabble in the realm of BDSM. One would have to go back to the pictures of glamour actresses Louise Brookes and Marlene Dietrich to view the first screen representations. In films such as Josef Von Sternberg’s The Blue Angel and G.W. Pabst’s Pandora’s Box, Miss Dietrich and Miss Brooks infused a heightened level of sexual suggestiveness and female dominance. With the help of costumes and signature poses, both actresses gained notoriety for their vampish performances, which paved the road for future filmmakers and talent to explore the depths of perverse sexuality.

Louise Brooks, playing her infamous Lulu character, breaks taboos with her vampish performance in Pandora's Box.

Secretary is notable for being one of the very few pictures that presents sadomasochism in a positive light to reach mass audiences. The two central characters, Mr. Grey (Spader) and Lee Holloway (Gyllenhaal), do have their personal problems, but these don’t overshadow the pleasure and delight the two receive from their sessions, which is the movie’s central focus from the second act onward. Even highly tauted classics such as David Lynch’s surreal 1986 film Blue Velvet can be interpreted as portraying the sadomasochistic love triangle between Kyle Maclachlan, Dennis Hopper, and Isabella Rossellini in a less-than-positive light. In addition, forgotten gems like William Friedkin’s criminally neglected 1980 film Cruising, a mystery-thriller with Al Pacino’s rookie cop going undercover as a gay man in heavy leather bars and searching for a psychopathic killer targeting the gay men, has a vision of sadomasochistic behavior that some may find problematic and others will find flat-out offensive.

Dennis Hopper and Isabella Rossellini (top) in  Blue Velvet and Al Pacino (bottom) in Cruising, two films featuring transgressive depictions of onscreen S&M.

Even more surprising is the genuinely warm critical and commercial reception Secretary received upon its release. Film critic Manohla Dargis lovingly emphasized Secretary’s light-hearted nature: “For all the dolorous trim, Secretary is a genial romance that maintains a surprisingly buoyant tone throughout, notwithstanding some of the writers' sporadic dips into pop Freudianism.” Movieline film critic Stephanie Zacharek confirms the film’s positive depiction of sadomasochism with this laudatory praise:

“Mr. Shainberg has a wry and wicked sense of humor, but he takes the emotional pain of these characters seriously. This isn't a movie about the dark side of S&M; it's about sexual compassion, a way of recognizing that one person's minor kink may be another person's lifeline.”

Even in 2012, the Hollywood studio system’s refusal to produce projects dealing with controversial and “taboo” sexual subject matter remains problematic. Sure, there have been breakthroughs for the homosexual community with Ang Lee’s Oscar favorite Brokeback Mountain and the Wachowski Brothers’ overlooked Bound (still their best and most enjoyable feature to date). In terms of perverse sexual behavior, Hollywood is more inclined to suggest and subvert the topic than to deal with it overtly. In an age where the studios, more often than not, continue to play it safe, Secretary holds up surprisingly well after ten years and signifies itself as one of the defining independent statements of the 2000s. More importantly, it’s a bold statement, preferring to be honest and open about its subject matter while never forgetting to be unabashedly romantic.

Mr. Grey (James Spader) and Lee meet with a potential client in Secretary.

Secretary will be playing at Bryn Mawr Film Institute tonight at 11:30pm. Please note: the film is rated R by the MPAA for "strong sexuality, some nudity, depiction of behavioral disorders, and language".

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Dan Santelli is a senior at Temple University pursuing a Bachelor's degree in Film and Media Arts. A lifelong cineaste, his favorite films (in no particular order) include Leon: the Professional, The Night of the Hunter, Touch of Evil, Blue Velvet, Brazil, Apocalypse Now, Dressed To Kill (1980), Halloween, and Les Yeux Sans Visage.

Ann Capozzolo: Why I Love the Monkees' HEAD

BMFI continues its The Late Show series of underseen cult and classic films with Head, showing tonight at 11:30 pm. Read why Ann Capozzolo, a lifelong Monkees fan and our programming contest winner, loves the zany 1968 film.

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By Ann Capozzolo, BMFI Programming Contest Winner 

Seeing Head on the big screen means a lot to me right now. I’m a big Monkees fan. I’m sure you are aware that Davy Jones, the resident ‘cute one’ in the Monkees, passed away recently. So the timing of this event feels right to me. Also, I never thought I’d actually get the chance to see this movie, which is one of my all-time favorites, on the big screen.

I’ve been a fan of the Monkees since I saw the show on TV when I was eleven years old. As you can imagine, at that age I couldn’t get enough of their silly antics and catchy pop songs.

About a year later, I discovered that the Monkees made a movie after their television show was cancelled, and it was going to be on TV... at 3 AM.  The timing puzzled me, but I set my VCR anyway.

When I woke up, I couldn’t wait to see what zany stuff “my” Monkees cooked up for their movie. I popped the tape in right away while eating my breakfast.

I think I stared at the screen with my mouth hanging open for the first twenty minutes. These weren’t really my Monkees. These Monkees were edgy, psychedelic, anti-war, anti-teeny bopper, basically kind of anti-everything, it seemed. And they were making references that went straight over my head. I must have found it amusing enough to muddle through until the end. But I have to say that twelve-year-old Ann was disappointed!

As I got older and could understand Head more, I came back to it again and again. I love all the psychedelic scenes and the subtle (and not so subtle) ways that the Monkees poked fun at their image and their TV show. Many of the scenes in the movie play out like a Monkees episode, but totally exaggerated and infused with dark humor.

I think that if the group wanted to blow up the entire Monkees phenomenon with this film, they did a great job of it. Just like me at twelve, I can’t imagine that typical Monkees fans at the time would have understood the film at all. On the other hand, cinephiles that may have really appreciated the film probably avoided it simply because it starred the Monkees. I’m glad that Head has gotten some recognition in recent years.

Probably the most often talked about aspect of Head is that it was written and produced by Bob Rafelson and Jack Nicholson about two years before they teamed up again to make the classic Five Easy Pieces. Besides the Rafelson and Nicholson pairing--and, of course, all the awesome psychedelic visuals--the film also has this rebellious, loss-of-innocence feel that I think a lot of movies tried to capture at the time.

From the psychedelic imagery to the great music to a bizarre assortment of cameos, like Annette Funicello and Frank Zappa, this movie has the power to put viewers into a 1968 frame of mine. I hope you all enjoy this psychedelic, plotless cult classic as much as I do!  

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Ann Capozzolo won BMFI's Winter Programming Contest by suggesting Head. This post is a version of the introduction she'll be giving at tonight's screening. Follow her on Twitter: @AnnCapo.

The Winner of "The Late Show" Spring Programming Contest

By Devin Wachs, Public Relations Manager, BMFI

In January, we ran our second ever programming contest for The Late Show film series, which features unusual and underseen cult films on select Friday nights at 11:30 pm. We received some excellent programming suggestions for the series, both submitted on our blog and sent directly to our programmer. Of the twenty or so submitted, we selected a winning entry, and, now that we've booked the film, we're ready to announce the lucky winner to the world (i.e. you). Drumroll, please...

And the winner is... John Nolan, for suggesting Blood and Lace! John has won four tickets for him and his friends to go see Blood and Lace on the big screen on Friday, May 11, plus four popcorn and drink passes. He will also introduce the film the night of the event. Congrats, John! Here's his entry:

Blood and Lace (1971). Leonard Maltin, in his Movie & Video Guide, gives it a "BOMB" and advises, "Don't bother." Psychotronic author Michael J. Weldon describes it as "one of the sickest PG-rated films ever made." However, the authors of the Overlook Encyclopedia of Horror Films rave that its "attack on the hypocrisy of small-town America is absolutely unrelenting." I stand firmly in the Overlook camp. This forgotten drive-in flick (and staple of the late, great Channel 48's Creature Double Feature) stars the legendary Gloria Grahame ("awesome in her matter-of-fact portrayal of human depravity," according to the Overlook Encyclopedia) as the corrupt headmistress of an orphanage, features such familiar faces as Vic Tayback, Milton Selzer, and Len Lesser, and a script involving all sorts of unsavory topics (arson, hammer murders, attempted rape, incest, torture, and blackmail). This is a cult film just waiting to happen, and BMFI could be the place to launch it.

The Late Show series started off with a bang in January with a huge crowd for The Room. The third entry in the series, the surreal Japanese horror flick House, plays this Friday, February 17, followed by the bizarre Oscar-nominated Greek drama Dogtooth on Friday, March 16, and the Monkees' Head on Friday, March 30, which won our winter programming contest.

A sneak peak at the spring The Late Show schedule:

Friday, April 13, 11:30 pm
Videodrome
This is one of our programmer's personal favorites.

Friday, April 27, 11:30 pm
Secretary
A twisted nod to Administrative Professionals' Day, earlier that week.

Friday, May 11, 11:30 pm
Blood and Lace

Friday, May 25, 11:30 pm
Kiss Me Deadly
BMFI's Programming Intern, Daniel Santelli, Jr., suggested this film noir fave, which will be shown on 35mm!

Details about our upcoming programming will be coming in a few weeks. In the meantime, thanks again for everyone's contest entries and suggestions for The Late Show series. We hope that you'll keep them coming!

Announcing "The Late Show" Spring Programming Contest

By Devin Wachs, Public Relations Manager, BMFI

BMFI's first The Late Show series kicks off with the fan favorite The Room on January 20. In case you haven't heard, this new series features unusual and cult films on the big screen on select Friday nights at 11:30 pm. But just as the series is beginning, it's time to finalize the films for its spring edition! (Yes, we book our special programming several months in advance.) Here's where you come in.

We're hosting our second programming contest! What film would you like to see added to the spring Late Show schedule? Tell us what you think we should show and why. If we choose your suggestion, you'll win cool prizes including four tickets to the screening for you and your friends! Interested? See below for details about how to enter and what you will get if you win.

In addition to The Room, the first Late Show series features Giorgio Moroder Presents Metropolis on February 3, the Japanese horror flick House on February 17, the bizarre family drama/satire Dogtooth on March 16, and the Monkees' Head on March 30. The latter was suggested by Ann Capozzolo, who won our winter programming contest! See her winning entry here.

How it Works:
In the comments section below, write the title of the film that you’d like us to show, and a few sentences about why you think we should feature it. (Hint: Try to make it something that isn’t shown in theaters very often.) Make sure to leave your name!* Entries are due by Wednesday, January 25 at 6:00 pm. We’ll announce the winner right here on our blog.

We’ll choose the film suggestion and write-up that we like best from your entries, and (pending film availability) we'll include it in the series!

If you've already emailed your programming ideas directly to vtemple@brynmawrfilm.org, as we listed in Projections, then we'll consider your suggestions as contest entries and you'll be eligible to win the prize, should we select your idea.

What You Win:
If you’re selected, you’ll win four tickets for you and your friends to go see the movie you chose on the big screen, plus four popcorn and drink passes. A version of your write-up will appear in Projections, our programming guide, and on our blog (with credit, of course). You can also introduce the film the night of the event as well—but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

I look forward to reading your entries!

*Please Note: When posting your comment, you will be asked to select a log-in from a list. If you do not have a Google account, etc., please select either 1) "Name/URL", which requires that you have a valid website address of your own, or 2) "Anonymous". If you select the latter, please be sure to sign your name in the post.

We Have a Winner for "The Late Show" Film Series Programming Contest!

By Devin Wachs, Public Relations Manager

Thank you for everyone's amazing suggestions for our newest film series, "The Late Show," which will feature an eclectic mix of cult films showing on Friday nights at 10:30 pm. We had 23 responses! You can read them all in the comments here.

You made it very difficult to choose a winner, but we had to pick just one, so... drum roll please... 

Congratulations, Ann Capozzolo! Of all the films that were suggested, we've chosen to show Head, the Monkees' trippy 1968 flick, on Friday, March 30. Here is Ann's winning entry, which will also be reprinted in the next issue of Projections, our quarterly programming guide:

Please consider the [1968] movie Head starring the Monkees. This plotless film did what the creators wanted: showed the ‘zany, goofy’ Monkees in a different light. Written and produced by Bob Rafelson and a pre-Easy Rider Jack Nicholson, Head captures psychedelia in a raw and avant-garde way. Sprinkled amongst the psychedelic chaos are some great musical numbers and unusual cameos (Annette Funicello, anyone?) to spot.

Ann, you'll receive four tickets for you and your friends to see Head on the big screen. You will all receive the VIP treatment that night, with complimentary popcorns and drinks. You can also introduce the film as well if you'd like—but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. And, of course, your winning entry will be credited in Projections and on our blog!

If you're wondering, a winner was chosen based on 1) how the suggested film fit with the rest of the series and its purpose, 2) how well-written and convincing the entry was, and 3) film availability (a necessary reality).

Even if you didn't win this time, don't fret. There will be other contests!