Kramer vs. Kramer (1979)

 

Killer of Sheep (1979)

 

Christ Stopped at Eboli (Christo si e fermato a Eboli) 1979

 

Breaking Away (1979)

 

Being There (1979)

 

Apocalypse Now (1979)

 

Alien (1979) ***

When I was growing up a popular dream job of adolescents was that of astronaut.  In the 1970s and 1980s the U.S. space program was a big deal and, of course, we had grown up watching films like Star Wars (1977), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), The Empire Strikes Back (1980), and Alien (1979). Yet, unlike many of my peers I wanted nothing to do with the mysteries of space. To me, anyone crazy enough to want to take a chance with the great unknown of the cosmos could have it—they were the type of people who wound end up being killed by face-hugging and intestinal-destroying aliens.  That’s right, director Ridley Scott’s second feature film, Alien, freaked me out so much that had Neil Armstrong himself stopped by my house to offer me a trip to the moon I would have declined. 

Alien was the brainchild of Dan O’Bannon who combined two popular box office genres, horror and sci-fi, to create probably the best sci-fi horror film ever made. Using a story he’d written with Ronald Shusett, O’Bannon penned the screenplay, which incorporated elements from such sci-fi movies as 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Thing from Another World (1951) with horror flicks like Halloween (1978) and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). Seven crew members aboard the space tugboat, Nostromo, are on their way back to Earth when they receive an unknown transmission from a nearby planet which awakens them from their space-pod slumber.  Regulations say they must investigate all transmissions and so off to LV-426 (not named in this film but in later sequels) they go. They have a bumpy landing and the ship is damaged, so three crew members, Captain Dallas (Tom Skerritt), Navigator Lambert (Veronica Cartwright), and Officer Kane (John Hurt) go out to investigate LV-426 while Warrant Officer Ripley (Sigourney Weaver), Science Officer Ash (Ian Holm) and Engineers Parker (Yaphet Kotto) and Brett (Harry Dean Stanton) are left to fix the ship and monitor the expedition of the other crew members. The explorers find an underground alien egg farm and after Kane pokes one he suddenly finds his space helmet attached to an octopus-like creature.  Dallas and Lambert bring Kane and the creature back to the ship, which for some reason Ash opens after Ripley orders him not to.  The rest of the film is then a series of unfortunate events for the rest of the crew, as they attempt to get the alien off the ship.

Without a doubt the visuals are probably the most spectacular thing about Alien.  The film earned two Academy Award nominations, one for Art Direction and the other for Visual Effects, which it won.  The massive design of the various sections of the 3-deck spaceship and planet LV-426 are pretty awesome, especially when you consider there wasn’t CGI in 1979.  And, of course, the iconic creation of the alien, as well as the creepy android, were highly unique as well. Visual Effects Supervisor Brian Johnson and Bray Studios based many of their designs on Scott’s countless storyboards as well as drawings created by Ron Cobb. What I think sets the alien creatures in the movie apart from their earlier predecessors is just how real the face-hugger, chestburster, and eventually the full-grown alien look. 

While Tom Skerritt received top-billing, everyone knows that Weaver was the main character (countless sequels have more than validated this point).  Still, for more than half the movie it seems like this is an ensemble piece, with each crew member having their own fair share of screen time.  Yet, by the time the alien is almost done running amok on the Nostromo there are only two crew members left on the ship: Ripley and Mr. Jones.  Oh, did I forget to mention Mr. Jones?  Mr. Jones is a tabby cat who plays a pivotal role in why I like Alien so much, but he’s also the reason why I don’t absolutely love it.  Please let me explain.

First, Mr. Jones has the honor of being in my favorite shot in the entire film. After being scared away while Ripley, Parker, and Brett are searching for the alien, Mr. Jones has to be found so his motion doesn’t distract the crew from monitoring the motion of the alien.  And, so Brett is sent, alone, to find the cat. This search leads to a massive chain hanging decorated quadrant of the ship. Instead of jumping into Brett’s arms, Mr. Jones hides behind a door and hisses at what one can only assume is a hiding alien.  When the alien emerges from the entangled chains the scene shifts to and focuses on the cat’s face as Brett is killed by the alien.  It’s such a simple shot, but it’s probably the most memorable one for me.

And, then there’s the most inane, idiotic thing about Alien…who in their right mind would go looking for a cat when you are trying to get materials together for an emergency shuttle escape right before you blow up the ship, and consequently, the alien?  In no world does it make any sense that Ripley, who’s seen members of her crew killed by an alien, would scour the ship for Mr. Jones—especially when you consider that she later throws his cage down right in front of the alien when she comes face to face with it.  Personally, it sort of feels like an anti-feminist statement on the part of Scott and O’Bannon: accomplished single, female space officer would rather save cat than exercise common sense.  Thus, such idiocy takes some of the shine off on otherwise tense and gripping story.

Nosferatu: Phantom of the Night (Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht)1979 **1/2

Director/writer Werner Herzog so revered F.W. Murnau’s classic 1922 silent film, Nosferatu: Symphony of Terror, as the greatest German film ever made that he remade it in 1979 and called it Nosferatu: Phantom of the Night. Unlike Murnau, Herzog had more freedom to base most of his film on the Bram Stoker novel. He didn’t have to change character names (even though he chose to name the heroine Lucy instead of Mina) and could follow the novel much closer.  Yet, he still chose to base his story in Germany (as Murnau had), and he humanized his Count Dracula far more than Stoker ever did. Like most fans of the original film, Herzog was mesmerized by the interplay of shadow and light that Murnau employed.  As such, he imitated many of the most iconic shots in the original, and created a mesmerizing visual treat.

The story is well known, Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz) leaves his beautiful and devoted wife Lucy (Isabelle Adjani) in Wismar to travel over the Carpathian Mountains into Transylvania to present Count Dracula (Klaus Kinski) with a deed for a house. Even after being warned by countless gypsies and reading books that tell the ill-fated story of those who cross the path of Nosferatu, Jonathan still chooses to dine with the Count and stay in his creepy, dilapidated castle. After seeing a locket with a picture of Lucy, the Count decides to incapacitate Jonathan by sucking his blood. Along with ten black caskets and countless rats, he travels via boat to Wismar—wiping the entire crew out on the voyage.  Much of the same befalls Wismar as well, and only Lucy seems to know that Count Dracula is to blame after a feverish and amnesic Jonathan returns.  To rid the town (and perhaps the world) of the pestilence that is Dracula, Lucy sets out on a collision course with fate.

The biggest difference between Murnau’s and Herzog’s films, of course, is that there is spoken dialogue.  Still, for the most part, the dialogue is sparse and only serves to move the story along.  Who needs a bunch of jabbering when you have atmosphere, anyway?  This works in Adjani’s favor, as her vacuous, but beautiful, looking face says so much more about her situation than any words ever could.  She looks and acts like a somewhat willing bride of Dracula. 

If you read my review of Murnau’s Nosferatu, then you know I believe there was no greater Dracula than Max Schreck.  Still, Kinski does his best job to imitate the master.  He looks and moves much the same way as Schreck, but he also had the opportunity to use words to express his character’s anguish of immortality.  Like Schreck, he is eerily creepy and unpleasant to look at.  Overall, he does a fine job of mimicking Schreck’s performance.

Still, what I most remember about the movie are the images Herzog and cinematographer Jorg Schmidt-Reitwein create.  Throughout the film they chose to frame and light scenes in which Kinski’s glowing, white face is the only thing that can be seen.  And, just as Murnau chose to create shadowed images of Dracula as he prowled the streets of Wismar, so does Herzog. Perhaps the most striking image is the recreation of the first face-to-face encounter between Lucy and Dracula, where his shadow looms over her first in a tight-quartered bathroom and then later in her bedroom.  These images alone are worth the price of hearing Renfield’s (Roland Topor) cackles.

Overall, Nosferatu: Phantom of the Night is a visually striking film, bolstered by a fine cast.  However, it does lack originality—as Herzog heavily imitated Murnau’s work.  Making a remake of an admired film has its pitfalls, and I expect Herzog’s admiration for Murnau’s film overshadowed his own ability to truly make his own movie—although he did give Dracula a bit more humanity than previously seen.

All That Jazz (1979) **1/2

This is vanity at its most pretentious. Fellini had his 8 1/2 (1963) and director Bob Fosse had his All That Jazz (1979). Like Fellini, there is much to like about a Fosse production, but there are also, like Fellini, quibbles to be had, too.  Films with an autobiographical bent can sometimes become too fantastical, and, well, self-indulgent—there are elements of both in All That Jazz.

Joe Gideon (Roy Scheider) is a successful director of films and musicals, as well as a gifted dancer and choreographer. But, he’s also a chain-smoking, womanizing workaholic on the verge of a massive coronary. He starts his days off by listening to Vivaldi’s Concerto in G, popping dexedrine, and smoking a pack of cigarettes before breakfast.  In what can only be described as an extended ostentatious reflection, the audience gets to eavesdrop as Gideon discusses his life with a scantily-clad Angel of Death (Jessica Lange)—with  over-the-top Fosse musical numbers scattered in for good measure.  By the end of the film you are either pleased as punch with the ending or asking yourself WTF just happened—or perhaps both. 

Well, it wouldn’t be a Fosse film if there wasn’t singing and dancing, so let’s start with the musical numbers.  I love musicals, but for some reason I didn’t really like any of the numbers in All That Jazz. Sure, I loved hearing George Benson’s “On Broadway” at the start of the film, but found myself overly-taxed by watching the infamous cattle call at the beginning.  Then, there’s “Take Off with Us”. The first part is palatable, the second part is one step above soft-core porn, and, as such, not my cup of tea.  And, finally, there is the series of numbers relating to Gideon’s impending demise: “After You’re Gone”, “You Better Change Your Ways”, “Who’s Sorry Now,” “Some of These Days,” and “Bye Bye Life”. The production designs and costumes are interesting (both won Oscars), but the musical numbers seemed lacking. 

Then, there’s the acting.  Scheider was nominated for an Oscar, and overall I think he does a nice job of showing what a complete hedonistic ass Gideon is. I suppose before he started making Jaws sequels he was a decent actor. Still, I didn’t think his was the standout performance. I particularly enjoyed Leland Palmer as Audrey, Gideon’s ex wife, and Erzsebet Foldi as Michelle, Gideon’s daughter.  My two favorite parts in the film involve the scenes where the two of them dance with (or in the case of Audrey, around) Gideon.  The complexity of his relationships with Audrey and Michelle shine in these two particular instances, and give much more depth to Gideon’s personality.  As for the rest of the cast, they are passable—except Deborah Geffner as Victoria, who plays her character as though she is really in a soft-core porno. 

So, I’m not exactly raving on this, am I? Still, I gave it a **1/2 rating, so I guess I should say why.  I think Fosse tells the story in a highly unusual and entertaining way.  Yes, it can be pretentious at times, but the way he puts all of the varying parts of the story together to meet at a pretty startling conclusion is inspired storytelling in my opinion.  Alan Heim won an Oscar for his editing of this, but I suspect Fosse had a heavy hand in every single cut.  Sometimes originality doesn’t work, but that is not the case with All That Jazz.