D: Scott Hicks (1996) with
Armin Mueller-Stahl, Geoffrey Rush, Noah Taylor, Lynn Redgrave,
John Gielgud
After piano aficionados gave David Helfgott’s recent performances a
lukewarm reception, the story of the not-all-together Australian prodigy may have lost a bit of
its titular luster, but not to my eye. To me, Shine still stands out as a sterling
example of filmmaking that is all too rare these days, filled with emotion and
carefully crafted detail that you can’t get from the Disneys of the world. With
Geoffrey Rush’s much-deserved Oscar-winning performance, the best score of 1996, and Noah
Taylor’s unforgivably overlooked role as the teenaged Helfgott, Shine is
exquisite on many levels. Combined with its themes of overprotective fatherly love,
blind ambition, and the horrific insanity they can cause, the film is a masterpiece. And let
me not forget the music, which is simply awe-inspiring (especially the unbelievable
“Rach 3”), and which makes you want to applaud after each piece is performed.
As Gielgud (another overlooked gem in the picture) puts it, “It’s monumental!”
— Christopher Null
The Narrow Margin
D: Richard Fleischer (1952) with
Charles McGraw, Marie Windsor, Queenie Leonard, Jacqueline White
Detective Brown (McGraw) is assigned to pick up Mrs. Neil (Windsor), a
mobster’s widow, and transport her by train across country to testify before a grand
jury. Before even reaching the station, Brown’s cigar-chomping partner is blasted
by the mob. On board the train, syndicate thugs try to bribe and intimidate Brown,
while he warms up to Mrs. Sinclair (White). Brown is disgusted with his assignment
and Mrs. Neil’s callous gun-moll attitude, but refuses to be swayed by the money
waved under his nose. The thugs find Mrs. Neil and kill her, but she turns out to
be a police woman sent as a decoy (and also to test Brown’s integrity)…. Marie
Windsor (a former Miss Utah) plays Mrs. Neil to trampy perfection and looks fine
indeed in a black slip, while square-jawed noir icon McGraw rattles off
tough-as-nails dialogue and administers a brutal ass-whuppin’ to a mob goon in a Pullman
compartment. The Narrow Margin capitalizes on its limited budget by confining most
of the action inside the train, using fine shadowy camera work in the corridors to
set up a nice sense of claustrophobia. Scholars now consider this picture to be a
minor classic, but at the time it was simply a concise, modest, un-pretentious
crime/suspense “B” picture. It wasn’t until years later that the dang French
elevated movies like this by coining the phrase film noir. The great thing
about noir is that it became such a popular visual style in post-WWII Hollywood;
there’s a near-inexhaustible vault of noir-type films that spans several
genres. Director Fleischer (son of animation pioneer Max Fleischer) honed his no-nonsense
sensibilities in a lengthy career that would go on to include such varied films as The
Boston Strangler, Soylent Green, Mr. Majestyk, The New
Centurions, and Fantastic Voyage. Forget its tepid 1990 remake; this is the real
thing, with a killer hard-boiled screenplay, lots of plot twists, and great
performances by Fifties character actors. — Jerry Renshaw
At The Circus
D: Edward Buzzell (1939)
with Groucho, Chico, and Harpo Marx, Margaret Dumont, Eve Arden
|
You know them, you love them: Harpo, Chico, and Groucho Marx |
must sabotage a French orchestra in order to save a struggling circus from a
conniving midget (a pre-R2D2 Kenny Baker), a sly loan shark, and a slow-witted
strongman. Absurd, yes, but then so are the Marx Brothers, and divinely so. As At the
Circus jumps from the good-hearted, thick-headed charm of Chico to the sharper,
elbow-in-the-ribs wit of Groucho to the supreme physical humor of ur-Kramer Harpo, the
brothers provide a delicious three-ring farce of their own. There are, of course, a
few bad punchlines and a boxcar of gratuitous circus animals (is it just me, or do
gorillas always overact?). And just as they were when I was 12, the musical numbers
are interminable (Groucho sings “Lydia the Tattooed Lady” here). But just as it was
when I was 12, it doesn’t matter: The jokes are worth the wait. Although not quite
in a league with Marx Bros. classics like Duck Soup and Animal
Crackers, At the Circus is still some of the best slapstick around. — Jay
Hardwig
Pyst
PYST/Parroty Interactive CD-ROM
So whatever became of the Firesign Theatre, those Sixties/Seventies
masters of surreal, cerebral audio comedy? True Fireheads like myself and perhaps a few
others who have noticed their familiar voices semi-regularly on The Tick, know that they’re still around, but most of you probably just occasionally dust off
your Everything You Know Is Wrong album and assume they got picked up by aliens soon
after its release. Not so. The FT have kept a low-profile vantage point of the cutting
edge, most recently with the release of the Myst parody Pyst, a
return to the island after all you millions of cybervisitors have wrecked it with all
your trash and Big Business has come in to complete its transformation into a
tourist trap. Creator Peter Bergman, along with fellow FTers Phil Proctor and David
Ossman and Big Name Actor John Goodman are all present here, in what may confuse
many players — because Pyst isn’t actually a game. It more accurately is described
as a comedy album with pictures and a few game-like trappings. It’s fun, too,
though compared to the intellectual level and unreality of Don’t Crush That
Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers, it’s little more than a particularly witty Hallmark card
made for giving to your Myst-obsessed spouse or buddy. The main complaint
on the net regarding Pyst has been from people who just can’t get it through
their heads that it’s not a game, and that it’s too short (the medium-priced disc
can be ventured through in under two hours). Then again, anyone who would want a
parody of Myst to go on as long as the original would have to be, if not
insane, at least something I wouldn’t wanna be. — Ken Lieck
This article appears in July 11 • 1997 and July 11 • 1997 (Cover).