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Still looking good: another roster of rare movie posters

July 12, 2011

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Not to big up this blog of yours truly too much, but one of its most popular posts has been an effort I put together last September featuring 20 of my favourite rare film posters. Well, in that great (and, admittedly, sometimes not so great) Hollywood tradition of the sequel, I’ve decided with this very post to repeat the trick.

So, here follows, mes amis, a score more of – to my mind – terrific but too little talked about, pored over and purchased movie posters of lore. Unlike last time out, most of the examples of this collection are grouped together by genre, theme or poster artist – not because I’m trying to go too arty on you all, you understand, but merely to try and better highlight why methinks they’re such damn good posters. Anyhoo, enough with the waffle; on with the perusal…

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CLICK on the images for full size and on the film titles for more information 

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Return Of The Jedi (1983) ~ for USA market (unused artwork)

(Above)

Wait a tick, there wasn’t ever a Star Wars movie called Revenge Of The Jedi, was there? Yes, peeps, our opener this time is a real teaser of a would-be teaser poster. You see, Revenge Of The Jedi was the ‘working title’ for (as the poster suggests, if you look at the line of type at its bottom) 1983’s Return Of The Jedi. Quite the rare piece of film publicity this then – but a real goodie too. This ‘un, methinks, is a great exponent of the use of watercolour on a movie poster (when do you ever see that nowadays?). Only a watercolour could produce that wonderful splash, or even explosion, of light in the bottom right-hand corner – ostensibly created by the duelling lightsabers – suggesting the epic, nay operatic, clash between good and evil (or, to be specific, Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader) that would await us in this final instalment of Star Wars‘ original trilogy. Classic stuff, indeed.

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Judgment At Nuremberg (1961) ~ for USA market/

A Bridge Too Far (1977) ~ for UK market

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Often there’s no better way to sell a product than by using a famous face – and these two posters do that with bells on. Frankly, given the fact their respective flicks feature casts absolutely bulging with Hollywood heavyweights, why the hell not? The better of the two surely must be Judgment At Nuremberg‘s; the starkly white but very familiar faces in profile on a simple black background not just creating a striking image, but also nicely reflecting the dark sombre subject matter of the movie (the post-WWII Nazi war crime trials). A Bridge Too Far‘s poster then isn’t a classic and is pretty blatant in selling its film on the strength of its stars by featuring mugshots of them in character (indeed, its alternative parachutes-landing-on-a-pink-backgound version is probably more satisfying), but for me there truly is something charming about its shameless selling – I mean, back in ’77, how could you have not wanted to see an epic war film with all the guys this image purports are in it?

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Dr. Who And The Daleks (1966) ~ for UK market/

Thunderbird 6 (1968) ~ for UK market 

Two hugely popular ’60s British kids’ telly shows transferred to the big screen here and done so with the aid of a pair of stonking posters. The first is simple as you like, but effective as hell. What I love about it is that it leaves you in little doubt as to who the main draw is – and it’s not Who (as he was here, not ‘The Doctor’ as in the Beeb’s classic still-running series); yup, it’s unquestionably those pesky tin-pot scallywags from Skaro, the Daleks. If you were at all unsure from the main image – how could you be, they’re enormous compared to the human characters on the extreme left? – then the size of the font that the word ‘Daleks’ in the title is given absolutely rams home the message. The Thunderbird 6 poster is (perhaps sad to report) air-miles and air-miles better than the actual film it promotes. Honestly, the flick itself possesses none of the style, dynamism and downright cool of this image. Mind you, like its poster, it does have both Lady Penelope and Parker in it, which is something at least, I guess.

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Thunderball (1965) ~ unused artwork/

The Great Escape (1963) ~ detail from artwork/

Danger Diabolik (1968) ~ detail from artwork

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Three posters here (I spoil you, I know, I really do) and all by the same artist, Frank McCarthy. In addition to being a producer of fantastic film posters, the late, great McCarthy also expertly doodled paperback covers, advertisements and magazine artwork, until in 1968 he gave up all that commercial stuff to focus on what he’d always held most dear, paintings of the American West. His cinema work, though, included posters for The Ten Commandments (1956), The Dirty Dozen (1967) and Once Upon A Time In The West (1968), but here are – to my mind, at least – perhaps his three best efforts in the name of film advertising. Macho, exciting and naturalistic but with a flair for the fantastic (like much of his poster art), all three display McCarthy at the peak of his movie publicity powers. The first is an unused artwork for the Bond film that came at the height of ’60s ‘Bondmania’ Thunderball, which for me is better than the actual posters used for the film – McCarthy created it in conjunction with felllow artist Robert McGinnis, with whom he also produced posters for the 007 epics You Only Live Twice (1967) and  On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969). The second effort is for The Great Escape and is a genius example of using time-lapse to build anticipation from the top to the bottom of the artwork (why the technique wasn’t used in the movie’s main poster, I’ll never know). The final effort comes from the little-seen spy hokum Danger Diabolik and simply demonstrates an awesome composition – no doubt far better than that of the flick itself.

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Modesty Blaise (1966) ~ for USA market/

Billion Dollar Brain (1967) ~ for USA market 

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Continuing the theme of ’60s spy cinema started with the immediately preceding images, here’s artwork for two unquestionably cult espionage flicks from the decade of ‘spy mania’. Modesty Blaise is an adaptation of the classic Peter O’Donnell comic strip featuring his sexy, feline anti-hero and, tipping its hat to – by that time – ’60s design’s growing predilection for psychedelia, its poster is a florid combination of McCarthy-like action-oriented characters and bright and bold colour (all pinks, reds, yellows and greens) smoothly circling about a becoming Monica Vitti blowing on the end of her phallic pistol. Nice. By contrast, the poster for Billion Dollar Brain (the second sequel to 1965’s utterly iconic The Ipcress File) is a lightning bolt of psychedelia – quite literally. Along the top it boasts Michael Caine in those oh-so cool specs, a pop-art firing pistol and Ed Begley’s face in the middle of a scream, then one’s eyes are inevitably drawn down that image-packed jagged slash to the credits at the poster’s bottom. And just check out that tagline; cool, rather clever and definitely crazy – very much like the movie it promotes.

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Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (1969) ~ for USA market/

About Last Night (1986) ~ for USA market

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Of all the players in poster design’s clever production company, not often does type – or, if you prefer, simple writing – take centre-stage. After all, posters are usually, understandably all about the image, right? Here, though, are two fine examples to the contrary, which let the writing, er, do the talking. Coincidentally too, both the movies to which they belong concern themselves with sexual relationships. The first is the landmark Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, if not Hollywood’s first frank foray into the exploration of sexual mores in a – by the late ’60s – increasingly liberated and experimental society, then surely its first flick to focus on swinging. Its poster is a classic. By repeating the film title over and again and cramming together the words – and thus the protagonists’ names – and following that up with the wonderful tagline below (‘Consider the possibilities’), the viewer is inevitably left to conjure up all the pairings, threesomes and foursomes as they might involving that quartet in question. Putting the words on a horizontal slant too and in varied bright colours adds a fitting hint of pop art-iness and psychedelia. About Last Night’s poster is less bold and therefore arguably less impressive than its predecessor’s (especially given the presence of the mugs of the movie’s stars at the bottom), but in making typography the major thing – and nattily highlighting the words of the title in a long, descriptive sentence – it’s a similar and very effective effort.

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Woodstock (1970)  ~ for USA market/ M*A*S*H (1970) ~ for USA market

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The ‘V-‘ or ‘peace sign’. First popularised by Winston Churchill upon the Allied victory at the end of World War Two and then adopted 20 years later by idealists of a much younger generation in defiance of the Vietnam War and other conflicts. It will, rightly then, always be associated with hippies and, while captured in thousands of photographs of the time, it was also captured on the posters of two prominent movie of the period – and here they are. The more famous of the two artworks (although you may not be familiar with it) was created for Robert Altman’s breakthrough film, the superb anti-war satire M*A*S*H. Once seen, this poster really is never forgotten. The use of the ‘V-sign’, with a soldier’s helmet (which sports a Stars And Stripes flag) resting on the index finger and the bottom of the hand transforming into a pair of comely, slender woman’s legs is genius, indeed. The image perfectly reflects the film’s themes and unquestionably hints at its gauche, knowing and anarchic tone. By contrast, the poster for the Woodstock documentary is a very rare one. Its better known relations are those that include photos from the legendary 1969 concert, but this one’s different – its image is painted and is properly provocative. Like on M*A*S*H‘s poster, the ‘V-sign’ is prominent, but being delivered by a young woman seemingly bewitched (by the music at Woodstock or substances sampled there, or perhaps both?), whose body is artily ‘painted’ in the blue, red stripes and white stars of America’s flag, the fusion – and therefore juxtaposition – of anti-war sentiment and (anti-?) US patriotism is arguably even more obvious than on the other poster. Less brash then, but just as pointed.

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Gold (1974) ~ for UK market/ InnerSpace (1987) ~ for USA market

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A hand gesture is what ties these two posters together too, but this time the gesture is an opened hand in the extreme foreground. The first is offering us something – gold, no less. Yes, the 1974 Roger Moore and Susannah York-starring Gold may not be the best adventure drama about South African precious-metal mining you’ll ever come across (mind, no others actually spring to mind right now), but its poster is a doozie. Not only do we have the lovely Susannah pictured mid-shout/ scream, Moore looking macho with his cheek bleeding and frantic images of drilling-gone-wrong  all over the shop, we also have the film’s title rising in the background in a huge, daft Ben Hur-like stone font and, of course, Sir Rog over dramatically offering us a handful of glinting gold. Barmy but brilliant. InnerSpace‘s poster is, admittedly, less ridiculous, but no less impressive. In fact, it’s arguably more so. Unlike with Gold‘s artwork, our eyes are immediately drawn to the protagonist’s (hero Dennis Quaid) outstretched hand, which isn’t offering us anything but holding the macguffin of the film – the ‘innerspace’ capsule in which he ‘miniaturises’ and enters another character’s body. There are images of action dotted on either side of the poster too, but we’re reassured this movie is definitely a comedy (if very much a sci-fi comedy) by the shocked-silly look on Martin Short’s face, the smiling directly at us by Meg Ryan and that sly, slick grin of Quaid’s. It’s a great poster, indeed, and although a remake (of 1966’s Fantastic Voyage), the flick’s an , ahem, little gem too.

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The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) ~ for Hungarian market/

Tootsie (1982) ~ for Polish market

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If film posters straight out of left-field are your bag, then these two have got to be for you. They’re European, for sure, but not produced for European flicks – one for a very Hollywood movie, the other for a Bond flick (which is probably best described as Anglo-American, or, er, Anglo-Hollywood). The latter is a Hungarian effort for that ultimate ’70s 007 blockbuster The Spy Who Loved Me – not that you’d guess that unless you spoke Hungarian. However, aside from all its adventure, explosions, comedy, comic-book violence and mild sex, you perhaps could describe Spy as a tale of two espionage agents from either side of the Cold War having to come together for the world’s greater good, despite the ideological, sexual and emotional tensions between them. And, you know, I’d argue all that’s rather well referenced in this poster. In a wack-job of a way, of course. The stamping of the male foot (Britain’s James Bond) and the female foot (Soviet Russia’s, ahem, Agent XXX) on that shotgun sort of suggests all that. Sort of. In any case, there’s surely no question that it’s a striking, unforgettable image – and that has to be the priority for a good movie poster. Mind you, if Spy‘s Hungarian offering is rather odd, then Tootsie‘s Polish effort at publicity is downright bizarre. Yes, it gets across the the film’s cross-dressing theme what with a bearded figure applying lipstick to his rather feminine-looking mouth, but why on earth is the whole thing such a dark image? It almost seems to suggest the film’s a violent slasher featuring the exploits of a transvestite killer rather than a finely executed comedy-drama about a desperate thespian who pretends to be a woman in order to land an acting gig. Moreover, the grafitti-like freehand type (included vertically, no less) also suggests the movie’s far artier than it really is. Still, despite all that (in fact, exactly because of it), I think it’s a work of art-oddity magnificence. Er, probably.

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The Great Muppet Caper (1981) ~ for USA market/

Back To The Future (1985)  ~ unused artwork

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And, finally, peeps, two (or more) posters that could only be from the ’80s. Why? Because they were all created by the king of Hollywood poster art in the ’80s, the one, the only Drew Struzan. The artist made his name thanks – as, seemingly, for so many involved in ’80s Hollywood – to his connections with George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, having created posters for every one of the Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Back To The Future films. In recent years too, you’ll recognise his work on the poster for Harry Potter And The Philosopher’s Stone. It’s for the classic, original Back To The Future adventure, however, that the four artworks on the right were produced. What I find particularly interesting about them, must say, is that none of them were ultimately used (the Struzan image that made the grade in the end, of course, was the one that featured Michael J Fox emerging from the DeLorean time-machine car). None of the quartet above are as impressive and, thus, as potentially iconic as that one perhaps, but then none of them are bad either – at least three of them ably give the viewer a good impression of the movie they would have been selling (the one with the hand and watch is a little weird, mind). And, to my mind, had Struzan’s other, rightly chosen image not  been selected, the one with Fox’s character pulling the minute hand of the clock-face (bottom right) could certainly have been used as the film’s main poster. Our final artwork is a true Struzan classic and, oddly, is little seen. It’s for a Muppet movie, oh, yes; indeed, the one that features Kermit & co. working as newspaper hacks (not for The News Of The World, though, don’t worry). Thus, quite brilliantly, not only are our furry friends excitedly breaking through newspaper, but the ‘paper itself features the film’s credits as if they’re news stories. No, really – take a closer look. It is, unquestionably, a work of poster art genius. Indeed, best to agree with me on that or you may have to face a Miss Piggy judo chop… 

Jim Morrison: Dec 8 1943 – July 3 1971 ~ long live the legend of the Lizard King

July 5, 2011

The face that launched thousands of trips: leader of The Doors, the indubitable Jim Morrison

Yes, 40 years ago on Sunday, the formidable front-man of psychedelic rock powerhouse band The Doors, the self-styled Lizard King, Mr Mojo Risin’ himself or (if you prefer) plain-old Jim Morrison broke on through to the other side in oh-so suspicious circumstances. Laconically cool, effortlessly irresistible to either sex and instantly and eternally iconic, Morrison was arguably both the real deal (a foremost figure of the late ’60s counter-culture with electric talent) and a seductive charlatan (a handsome poet who captivated kids with ideas and moves nicked from Nietzsche, the Beat Poets, Van Morrison and Native American mysticism).

Truth be told, his legend surely would not have endured in the way it has had he not died in Paris aged just 27 (ensuring his membership in the ’27 Club’ – a group of rock musicians who all died at that age, including Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones and Kurt Cobain). He left us young, sure, but, boy, did he cram a lot into his life – fame (nay, notoriety), devotion, drug addiction and, apparently, a plethora of sexual partners, supposedly numbering fellow rock stars of his era Grace Slick, Nico and Joplin herself.

Anyhoo, if any time is the right time to celebrate the strange days of Jim Morrison then this surely is it, so here follows, peeps, a collection of quotes about and attributed to, rare images of, and (my own favourite) musical performances by that man Morrison – yup, long live the legend of the Lizard King, indeed…

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We could be so good together: Jim Morrison showing off with his girlfriend and/ or common-law wife Pamela Courson, with whom he shared his life before and during his years of  fame 

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Jim read as much and probably more than any student in class, but everything he read was so offbeat I had another teacher, who was going to the Library of Congress, check to see if the books Jim was reporting on actually existed. I suspected he was making them up, as they were English books on sixteenth- and seventeenth-century demonology. I’d never heard of them, but they existed, and I’m convinced from the paper he wrote that he read them, and the Library of Congress would’ve been the only source.~ Jim Morrison’s senior-year English teacher

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Land Ho!: Jim Morrison steps off an aeroplane with the other members of The Doors (left to right: John Densmore, Robby Krieger and Ray Manzarek) at the height of their late ’60s success

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“Hey, man, we just did the Sullivan Show” ~ Jim Morrison’s supposed response to the producer of The Ed Sullivan Show in 1967, after the latter told him The Doors would never play the show again because Morrison had not altered drug trip-referencing lyrics when singing the song Break On Through (To The Other Side)

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The end, beautiful friend: the resting place of Jim Morrison in Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, Paris

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‘”ΚΑΤΑ ΤΟΝ ΔΑΙΜΟΝΑ ΕΑΥΤΟΥ (translation: ‘according to his own daemon’, or less literally: ‘true to his own spirit’)~ the Greek inscription on Jim Morrison’s gravestone, erected by his father

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Angela Scoular/ Elisabeth Sladen: Lost Companions

July 1, 2011

Talent…

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… These are the lovely ladies and gorgeous girls of eras gone by whose beauty, ability, electricity and all-round x-appeal deserve celebration and – ahem – salivation here at George’s Journal

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One made a name for herself as a flighty bit-of-all-right in 1960s and ’70s movie comedies, as well as securing a place for herself in that oh-so rare sorority of actresses who have played two separate Bond Girls; the other became the darling of Doctor Who fans forever for portraying the heroic Timelord’s most loveable, nay, most recognisable, companion – in three separate series. Yes, they’re Angela Scoular and Elisabeth Sladen and, yes, so sadly both of them passed on long before their time earlier this year. Here then, folks, is my wee little tribute to them both, indubitably delightful lovelies from back in the day…

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Profiles

Names: Angela Margaret Scoular/ Elisabeth Claira Heath Sladen

Nationalities: English

Professions: Actresses

Born: Angela – 8 November 1945, London/ Elisabeth – 1 February 1946, Liverpool

Died: Angela – 11 April 2011, London/ Elisabeth – 19 April 2011, London

Known for: Angela – Playing Swinging ’60s free spirits in two separate Bond films, 1967’s ‘unofficial’ spoof Casino Royale (Buttercup) and 1969’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (Ruby Bartlett) and comedies Here We Go Round The Mulberry Bush (1968), A Countess From Hong Kong (1967) and Doctor In Trouble (1970), as well as appearing in the bawdy Adventures Of A Taxi Driver (1976) and Adventures Of A Private Eye (1977), plus TV series The Avengers (1968), Penmarric (1979), You Rang M’Lord (1988-93) and as Cathy in the BBC’s 1967 version of Wuthering Heights/

Elisabeth – Appearing in Doctor Who (from 1973’s The Time Warrior through to 1976’s The Hand Of Fear) as perhaps The Doctor’s most popular companion Sarah Jane Smith,, opposite both Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker in the title role, as well as returning in the ‘new series’ opposite David Tennant’s Doctor (2006) and reviving the character in the spin-off dramas K-9 And Company (1981) and The Sarah Jane Adventures (2007-11).

Strange but true: Pregnant by another man, Angela moved in with household name Leslie Phillips in 1977 and together they raised the child as their own, marrying in 1982. Elisabeth attended Grammar School with Edwina Currie, future cabinet secretary in Margaret Thatcher’s government; they appeared alongside each other in at least one school drama.

Peak of fitness: Angela – always flirty and comely, but most of all in the nuddy under a sheet, as she’s willingly seduced by James Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service/ Elisabeth – lovely throughout Sarah Jane’s original run, but perhaps most of all when dressed in her blue, one-piece swimsuit in the 1974 Doctor Who story Death To The Daleks.

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CLICK on images for full-size

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Indy at 30: Like father, like son? ~ Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989)/ Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull (2008) – Review

June 30, 2011

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Right then, peeps, here it is, this blog’s final foray in keeping up with the Joneses in celebration of Indy’s big 30. Yup, having gone behind-the-scenes of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981) and reviewing that very flick and its immediate sequel Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom (1984), it’s now time to close the Ark by sharing with you my thoughts on the saga’s (so far) last two entries, Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989) and Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull (2008). Yup, dust off the fedora, folks, because here we go again…

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(Last CrusadeDirected by: Steven Spielberg; Starring: Harrison Ford, Sean Connery, Alison Doody, Denholm Elliott, John Rhys-Davies, Julian Glover, River Phoenix; Screenplay by: Jeffrey Boam; US; 127 minutes; Colour; Certificate: PG

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So, five years on from the release of Temple Of Doom and adventure cinema’s duo supremo Steven Spielberg and George Lucas cracked the whip once more and served up a highly expectant public with another dose of Indy. In that half-decade, Lucas had (for now) left Star Wars behind and Spielberg had moved on to more ostensibly critic- and award-friendly fare as The Color Purple (1985) and Empire Of The Sun (1987); in short, both seemed to be growing up. Perhaps because of this then, it’s fair to say Last Crusade lacks some of the youthful vigour, unbridled pace and childlike wonder of its two predecessors, but it also possesses something they arguably lack, a real commitment to character-driven storytelling.

Now, don’t get me wrong, being an Indy flick, this ‘un certainly delivers those trademark genius (or, if you prefer, showing-off) touches of the early Spielberg. For instance, we have a tied back-to-back Indy and companion in a revolving fireplace moving from a fiery room to, maybe even worse, another room laden with villains, as well as a moment when the camera focuses on a chap replacing a car-wheel’s hubcap just as the vehicle itself speeds off. Yet, the real focus this time is on delving deeper into our hero’s back-story and his relationships with those close to him, arguably ensuring this movie is more grown-up than the previous two. Arguably.

First off, we’re offered an episode that tackles our protagonist’s ‘origins’  (so popular with adventure and comic book hero flicks nowadays) as the ill-fated River Phoenix essays an adolescent Indy in a circus-train chase, which neatly and wittily explains away the hero-to-come’s fondness for that lion-tamer’s whip, his aversion to snakes and where he got his fedora and leather jacket look – from a low-grade Indy-style adventurer, as it happens.

And from one ‘father figure’ of his past we move on to another – the real thing, Professor Henry Jones Sr, Indy’s dad, no less. For now the flick shows its true colours as the adult Indiana (Harrison Ford) sets out on an escapade that takes him from his Californian college, via Venice and an Austrian castle full of hidden corridors, to the deserts of Hayat in a bid both to rescue his pop from Raiders-esque nasty Nazis and find and lay claim to the legendary Holy Grail.

His dad turns out, of course, to be none other than Sean Connery (seriously, who could be more fitting as Indy’s pop than James Bond? Apparently, that thinking genuinely was behind Spielberg and Lucas’s casting of Connery). And this surely has to be Last Crusade‘s master-stroke. As Indy’s academic, priggish and formerly absent father, with whom the son has some serious unresolved issues, the Scottish thunderball delivers an outstanding against-type comic turn. His frequent rebuking of (‘Junior!’) and bickering with Ford (‘I should have mailed it to the Marx Brothers!’) is golden stuff; quite frankly, the film only hits top gear with his entrance a third of the way through. Indeed, second to 007 himself, this is probably the most enduringly popular role of Connery’s long, varied career – and rightly so.

It’s not all The Ford And Connery Show, though (despite how much fun they’re clearly having and, by extension, Spielberg’s having directing them). Indiana Jones wouldn’t be Indiana Jones without chases – and Last Crusade doesn’t disappoint. There’s a chase on motorbikes, one in speedboats, a lengthy tank-versus-horse set-piece in the desert and, best of all, the two Joneses in a byplane and then a car being pursued by Messerschmitts. The movie’s macguffin too (the biblical Holy Grail) is a classic – leading to an eerie, spooky and mystical finale – and, as mentioned, those Nazi villains (back after the controversial Indian Thuggee cultists of Temple Of Doom) do the business once again.

Although neither as sinister nor as threatening as they were in Raiders perhaps (despite Indy meeting Hitler – who’d have thought he was actually Mr Bronson off Grange Hill?), their presence is bolstered by Alison Doody’s love interest turning out to be a fascist-sympathising and memorable femme fatale – in spite of her being shunted down the supporting cast pecking order due to the film’s father-and-son theme and Connery’s casting. Successful too are the welcome returns of John Rhys Davies’s Sallah and Denholm Elliott’s Marcus Brody; Julian Glover’s ‘champagne villain’, Walter Donovan, proves a little flat, mind.

But, ultimately, it’s the Indy-and-his-dad aspect for which Last Crusade remains most memorable. And this is more than ensured by the flick’s more than satisfying climax, where both Joneses naturally and nattily realise that the real Holy Grail they’ve been hunting for throughout their journey has been something else entirely to the little cup from which Christ once drank; proof indeed that with Spielberg and Lucas at the helm, Indy has always been about going further than merely updating Saturday morning serials, but giving the audience exactly what it wants – and more besides.

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(Crystal Skull) Directed by: Steven Spielberg; Starring: Harrison Ford, Shia Laboeuf, Karen Allen, Cate Blanchett, Ray Winstone, John Hurt, Jim Broadbent; Screenplay by: David Koepp; US; 122 minutes; Colour; Certificate: 12

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It’s a sign of the controversy that, since its release, Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull has generated among modern film fans that just yesterday emerged the news Harrison Ford has apparently called Shia Laboeuf, his co-star in said film, a ‘f*cking idiot’ for recently claiming he (Laboeuf himself, that is) ‘dropped the ball’ while making the movie.

You see, sincere Shia had informed the world that the notorious – and generally derided – moment in Crystal Skull in which he swings on a grapevine surrounded by monkeys and then attacks an enemy with his new simian pals may have been the filmmakers’ creation, but ultimately it was his responsibility to ‘sell it’, which apparently he did not. According to Ford, you don’t knock a film you’ve starred in, you sell it; but Laboeuf presumably feels fans ‘deserve’ an explanation.

But is an explanation necessary for that particular Crystal Skull moment? (For the record, not for me; it rather tickles yours truly – what can I say, like Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory, I like monkeys) And, by extension, does the film as a whole deserve all the criticism it’s garnered over the last three years? Is it really that bad a flick?

The answer, in my opinion, is a plain and simple no. Granted, after the 19-year wait for a new dose of Jonesian heroics, it wasn’t exactly a new Raiders that greeted filmgoers in the summer of 2008. And now in 2011, with the dust having settled somewhat, Crystal Skull‘s still very much in the original adventure’s shadow (and those of its first two sequels perhaps), but despite this I’ll happily state and maintain it’s not that bad a movie.

Much of the film fan antagonism to the flick, it seems to me, centres on what’s at the centre of the plotting – as it goes, not the movie’s macguffin, the psychic crystal skull of South America’s Akator/ El Dorado that the hero sets out to find (surely a pleasingly freaky, eerie, exotic piece of ancient, if not biblical, bling) – but the fact that, unlike the other three Indy escapades, this one’s quest ends in the discovery of aliens/ trans-dimensional beings, rather than something divine.

To me, though, this criticism is a little nonsensical. What are aliens of superior intellect if they’re not otherworldly, mystical and presumably omnipotent – just like the power of established divinity? Perhaps some filmgoers simply didn’t want Indy to dip his toes into sci-fi? But, for me, it’s much of a muchness. Indiana Jones is superior fantasy adventure born out of US Saturday morning  adventure serials and comic book heroism – for both of which science fiction is a mainstay. If any film hero then can do sci-fi well, surely Indy can.

And Crystal Skull does do the sci-fi well. Indeed, in setting the flick in the 1950s (a necessity owing to the ageing, greying Ford), director Spielberg and writer/ executive producer Lucas nattily tie into the piece not just Ruskkie Commies as the baddies (the new Nazis, if you will), but also ’50s B-Movie sci-fi overtones (Nevada Desert’s ‘Area 51’, the ‘Roswell incident’, the ‘Grey Alien’ and the space saucer are all smartly and smoothly worked in). General Cold War touches abound too, what with Feds getting all itchy about the Reds, and, of course, Indy surviving a nuclear test blast inside a lead-lined fridge (again, another controversial scene – I’m on the ‘whatever’ side of that controversy). Plus, another ’50s reference comes in the look of Indy’s latest sidekick, the adolescent Mutt Williams, whose entrance is a shameless but neat homage to Marlon Brando in The Wild One (1953).

Ah, Mutt Williams… Mr Laboeuf himself. Another sore point with many Crystal Skull detractors. Does this latest George Lucas creation deserve the criticism he’s received for being added to the Indy universe? Again, for me, no. Probably like many others, I was expecting the worst when it came to this character, but was pleasantly surprised. Mutt’s a spunky, smart greaser that Laboeuf brings to life with just the right balance of bluster, subtlety and charm. Hardly the new Jar Jar Binks at all. Just don’t do the daft thing and give off us a spin-off Mutt film series though, will you, George? Actually, I like to think Indy taking his picked-up-from-the-floor hat from Mutt in the flick’s closing scene is a sign this won’t be the case – and, if anything, another outing for Indy himself’s more likely.

After Crystal Skull, though, should Indy crack his whip one more time? Well, there’s no doubt the moneymen would probably like him to (the movie made nearly $790 million at the global box-office), but even if Lucas is eager, Spielberg may see the light and nix it – at least, one would like to think that. As I’ve said, Crystal Skull is far from a jeep crash in the Amazon, but more of the same probably isn’t necessary. The film’s big set-piece (actually that jeep chase – and several crashes – in the Amazon) isn’t bad, but unlike similar action sequences from the first three adventures, it isn’t quite as exciting or enthralling; it rather lacks their immediacy, as if you can see the joins.

And at times in Crystal Skull, you feel like you can see the joins – there’s around 450 CGI shots in the film, while 30 percent of its scenes feature CGI matte backgrounds. All very well for a fantasy movie, you may say, but past Indy didn’t have to rely on that level of effects work (having said that, past Indy was never set in a hard-to-film undeforested jungle for a third of its running time either).

However, what does undeniably work throughout is the cast and their playing. Perhaps because they all look like they are at play – and having a high-old-time at that. Like Jones, she has more mileage on the clock, but Karen Allen’s Marion Ravenwood is delightful once again (she is, unquestionably, the same character she was in Raiders); her by-play and bickering with Indy – apparently co-written by the latter flick’s scribe Lawrence Kasdan – is sparkling stuff. Just as satisfying, Cate Blanchett’s Soviet villainess Spalko is a deliciously dastardly creation (one can appreciate why she’s Spielberg’s favourite Indy foe), while esteemed British thesps Ray Winstone, John Hurt and Jim Broadbent all offer dependable support, very much in the tradition of Indy UK alumni John Rhys-Davies, Denholm Elliott and, yes, Sean Connery.

Speaking of Connery, you may not know that he was offered the chance to return as Indy’s father (the role he played in Last Crusade), but owing to enjoying his retirement too much, turned it down. It may have been just as well; one may conclude that there’s enough grey hair onscreen already, what with Indy’s own veteran presence (but it’s only fair to mention that, absolutely to his credit, Ford in his sixties most definitely still has it as the physical, sardonic action hero, even if he’s the father figure this time around). For what it’s worth, mind, Connery has taken the effort to see Crystal Skull. His verdict? ‘Rather good and rather long’, apparently. Not so sure about the second bit, but I’m certainly with him on the first bit. If this is to be how Indy bows out, then it ain’t bad at all… and he still didn’t lose his hat doing it. 

Playlist: Listen, my friends! ~ June 2011

June 20, 2011

In the words of Moby Grape… listen, my friends! Yes, it’s the (hopefully) monthly playlist presented by George’s Journal just for you good people.

There may be one or two classics to be found here dotted in among different tunes you’re unfamiliar with or never heard before – or, of course, you may’ve heard them all before. All the same, why not sit back, listen away and enjoy…

CLICK on the song titles to hear them

~~~

The Strangeloves ~ I Want Candy

Henry Mancini ~ If I Fell*

Donovan ~ Atlantis

Sammy Davis Jr. ~ Rhythm Of Life

Eric Clapton ~ Let It Grow

John Miles ~ Music

Laurie Johnson ~ Theme from The New Avengers

Supertramp ~ Give A Little Bit

Kiki Dee ~ Star

The Psychedelic Furs ~ Pretty In Pink

Talk Talk ~ It’s My Life

The Housemartins ~ Build

Soul II Soul ~ Back To Life (However Do You Want Me)

* Performed on the 1965 TV special The Music Of Lennon & McCartney

Indy at 30: Setting the ball rolling ~ Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981)/ Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom (1984) – Review

June 15, 2011

(Raiders) Directed by: Steven Spielberg; Starring: Harrison Ford, Karen Allen, Paul Freeman, John Rhys-Davies, Denholm Elliott, Ronald Lacey, Wolf Kahler; Screenplay by: Lawrence Kasdan; US; 115 minutes; Colour; Certificate: PG

~~~

It’s had its rivals, its copycats, even its parodies, and yet, if you were to ask, well, anyone, after a few minutes’ thought, they’d most likely come to the conclusion that Raiders Of The Lost Ark is the best family adventure film of the last 30 years. But is it really? Well, in a word… yes. Truly, nothing’s come close to Raiders since its release in June 1981 (which was recently covered on this blog here) and maybe never will.

The reason is pretty darn simple – after all, filmmaking shouldn’t be that complicated when you’re making adventure movies – this flick simply has it all, mixing all the ingredients together in a fast, florid, magical, irresitible brew like the contents of the Ark of the Covenant (before they turn all horrible, that is). For there’s nothing horrible – or second-rate, ironic perhaps given its 1940s ‘B-Movie’ inspirations and aspirations – in Raiders.

First and foremost, Lawrence Kasdan’s script is tight-as-you-like; somehow marrying the mugging of a fantastically barmy Nazi scheme with the establishing of a would-be-iconic action hero, along with a plethora of memorable characters, some terrific dialogue (‘There’s only so many times I can say sorry’/ ‘Then say it again’; ‘I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go’) and a clutch of in-your-wildest-dream set-pieces.

The realisation of these set-pieces, quite rightly, is what Raiders is best remembered for. Director Steven Spielberg maybe deserves the lion’s share of praise here, his rapid-fire shooting-style no doubt ensured the thing remained clipped and focused, as well as visually imaginative – fantastic and  just about the right side of unbelievable. Yet, deserving of mention here too has to be his cinematographer Douglas Slocombe, his second unit (mostly directed by George Lucas, in fact), stunt arrangers, production designer Norman Reynolds and those beardy boffins at Industrial Light And Magic who with this flick, following Star Wars (1977) and The Empire Strikes Back (1980), continued to set an amazing template when it came to visual effects.

Because when it comes to set-pieces here, we’re talking the giant rolling boulder chasing our hero (Harrison Ford) through a cave in a perfect tone- and pace-setting opening sequence; we’re talking Indy the hero and his heroine Marion (Karen Allen) escaping from her fire-ravaged Nepalese bar; we’re talking the hero fighting goons under a circling aeroplane that’s about to explode and then stealing the treasure back from the baddies in a crazy truck and car chase (including in an incredible man-under-a-truck stunt); we’re talking Indy escaping the villains’ clutches on a tanker ship by swimming unseen across to their own submarine to the cheers of his shipmates; and, of course, we’re talking the climactic finale of the Ark’s opening when – ironically – God Himself trumps Indy by pulling off the most impressive trick of all.

And, make no mistake, that ironic, sardonic humour is critical to Raiders‘ balance – and ultimate success. You can have all the thrills and spills and artistically impressive chops in the world, but if your movie adventure ain’t funny, then it’ll come off too dry for both the kids and the parents. Take the improvised moment when Indy can’t be bothered with a long tussle with the Cairo swordsman, so just casually shoots him instead. It’s a moment as golden as the disc atop the Staff of Ra.

Still, for all that, Raiders would only be two-thirds, nay half, the film it is were it not for its outstanding, unforgettable score. Film composer extraordinaire John Williams had previously worked wonders with his contributions to Jaws (1975), Close Encounters Of The Third Kind (1977) and the Star Wars flicks, but in creating Indy’s theme (officially titled The Raiders March) for this movie, he came up with his own signature track. The rest of the score too is, of course, terrific, perfectly accompanying and setting the mood for the on-screen action and helping to elevate it to the eerie, mystical, epic and grandiose levels it strives for.

So to sum up, well, let’s put it this way: imagine (in the incredibly unlikely event) you were about to see Raiders for the first time… just how exciting, riveting, magical and special a prize, like Indiana Jones, would you be about to discover…?

Exactly.

~~~

(Temple Of Doom) Directed by: Steven Spielberg; Starring: Harrison Ford, Kate Capshaw, Ke Huy Quan, Amrish Puri, Roshan Seth, Peter Stone; Screenplay by: Willard Huyck, Gloria Katz; US; 118 minutes; Colour; Certificate: PG

~~~

Apparently, on the Hawaiian beach back in the summer of ’77 where George Lucas and Steven Spielberg had agreed to make Raiders Of The Lost Ark, they’d also shook on making two more sequels. A rather presumptuous assumption perhaps, but nonetheless they did make two (in fact, three) further Indy sequels together, the first of which, of course, was Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom.

But, much had come to pass between Raiders’ release in ’81 and the two getting down to it and making Temple Of Doom in ’83, not least the former completing the Star Wars trilogy with Return Of The Jedi (1983) and the latter seeing his latest flick E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982) become the biggest movie of all-time, but also – and perhaps most importantly – Spielberg’s marriage had hit the rocks forcing him into the throes of divorce. As it happened, Lucas wanted Temple Of Doom not to take the easy buck and pander to the kids, but to be darker than Raiders, and Spielberg, given where he was in his personal life, threw himself in that direction.

The film they turned out then was, indeed, darker than its predecessor, but also – perhaps on account of its director’s initial reluctance to the ‘darker’ idea and Lucas’s admission that he’s a ‘humour’ man – was conversely lighter than the first one in different ways. Given this, is it fair to say that Temple Of Doom‘s a bit of a Jekyll and Hyde movie? Maybe. And, yes, that may go some way to explaining why it’s one or two notches down in quality to Raiders. And yet, it also explains why the flick’s quite a different beast to the original – and still today a hell of an entertaining and intriguing ride.

And a ride it unquestionably is. Right from the start it’s breathless stuff with Indy, nightclub chanteuse Willie Scott (a wonderfully clownish Kate Capshaw) and diminutive dynamo of a sidekick Short Round (Ke Huy Quan of Goonies fame) having to escape from Shaghai villains and their schemes via dropping through shop canvasses, hiding from gunfire behind rolling gongs and jumping out of a pilotless aeroplane in a water-raft (and then sliding off a cliff and riding rapids in said raft, of course). The exposition that follows this, as such it is, is that Indy and co. must find a sacred stone and put right a ‘curse’ that an evil palace-based Thuggee cult holds over an Indian village. But, frankly, this thin plot is secondary to the action – or really, the rollercoaster ride – that follows.

Fistfights, swordfights, fleeing from a gigantic flood, human sacrifice in cult rituals, karate-kicking and the plucky trio’s witty bickering all fly by before a final showdown on a ropebridge (guess what happens there?). Indy, almost symbolically, sees his shirt disentegrate as each outlandish and incredible action set-piece piles up on the next; it’s as if the filmmakers see their hero as a superhuman Hercules and they’re putting him through his very own 12 labours. Indeed, in what must be one of Hollywood’s best in-jokes, they even  insert an actual rollercoaster ride into this ultimate rollercoaster ride of a movie, in the shape of the flick’s most exhilarating sequence, the iconic, unforgettable mine-cart chase.

So, if Temple Of Doom‘s effectively made up of all these relentless hijinks, where’s all the darkness? Well, remember I squeezed in mention of cult rituals and human sacrifice in that paragraph above? This (admittedly short) middle segment of the film is indeed arguably scary, fiery, gory and not at all played for laughs – in fact, it’s the stuff of a modern, quality horror film. Indiana Jones movies are famous for containing ‘mild horror’ – it’s one of their trademark components and hugely popular with both adults and kids – but this is a step beyond that. I remember watching Disney’s Pinocchio for the first time as an adult a few years ago and it struck me just how solidly dark a film that actually is; to watch this section of Temple Of Doom as a grown-up is a similar experience. It’s no surprise that, on release, the film received criticism from certain quarters for this experiment on Lucas and Spielberg’s part of how far they could push a family film into adult audience territory.

As mentioned though, the movie’s darkness is tempered by its humour. Sillier in most cases than in Raiders (although rather delightful, the meal at the palace is pretty childish and Indy and Willie’s played-for-laughs attraction, if not their by-play, is less convincing than his and Marion’s in Raiders), it does however certainly have its moments. Most especially the starkly brilliant reminder that this flick is the original’s prequel, when, meeting a couple of swordsman, Indy reaches for his gun only to realise he’s mislaid it (echoing the moment in Raiders when – it turns out , having learnt his lesson – he just shoots the mean dude with the sword instead of engaging in a lengthy fight).

And, make no mistake, it’s Spielberg’s often delighfully inventive, always controlled hand on the tiller that strikes this balance between dark horror themes and frivolous humour, while knitting together all the action into a layer-upon-layer cake that feels like it will surely topple over before the end, but, of course, never does. Temple Of Doom isn’t another Raiders (it’s more an experiment in adventure movie filmmaking than an attempt to make the best possible exponent of it), but in its way it’s a fascinating and – for me, at least – as entertaining a slice of cinema as its predecessor. Admittedly, that may have something to do with the fact it was the first Indy flick I properly saw (you never forget your first, right?).

Plus, after all that, it even turned out nice for Spielberg – he swapped the layered cake of Temple Of Doom for a real layered wedding cake thanks to meeting on-set and then making his wife his leading lady, Kate Capshaw. Now that’s an achievement even Indiana Jones wasn’t capable of… well, not in this film, at least.

~~~

Novel idea: Carte Blanche, MI6 Confidential and the continuation of James Bond in print

June 9, 2011

Master and apprentice: James Bond creator and original author Ian Fleming (left); crime writer and new 007 novelist Jeffery Deaver publicising the spy hero’s latest literary adventure (right)

“The scent and smoke and sweat of a casino are nauseating at three in the morning.” These words ooze glamour, cool and a sense of darkness and danger, do they not? And they’re surely the perfect words to begin, yes, a James Bond novel. But not just any James Bond novel – no, they make up the opening sentence of the very first, Casino Royale. Published in 1953, it was written by former British Intelligence planner and journalist Ian Fleming supposedly as a wedding present for his soon-to-be wife – in actuality, he really produced it as a lighthearted distraction to his impending nuptials. However, the sensation it pretty immediately became and the legacy down through the years it bore were, of course, anything but lighthearted.

Now, all of 58 years since Casino Royale was first published, the book Bond is back through the conduit that is best-selling American thriller author Jeffery Deaver. Yet, far from the first print-based adventure for Bond since Fleming put down his pen, the new novel, Carte Blanche, is in fact the latest in a long line of literary ventures – nay, reinventions – of the world’s least secret secret agent. So, lesser known as it is compared to the cinematic version, just what is the literary Bond’s history and just how did he get to Carte Blanche?   

Well, if we go back to the start with Fleming, we’ll discover that, following the first novel’s publication, across the next 11 years the latter produced a further 11 novels and two short story collections featuring his irresistible espionage hero. Then, two years before the author’s untimely death in 1964, under their newly created company, Eon Productions, US film producers Albert R ‘Cubby’ Broccoli and Harry Saltzman delivered the first movie in the ‘official’ series of James Bond cinematic escapades, Dr No. Adapted from Fleming’s sixth novel, it starred the then unknown Sean Connery as 007. The Bond films themselves quickly, of course, took on a life of their own, as they struck an even bigger chord with the public than the novels and surely eclipsed the popularity of their literary forebears.

Bond bound: the first editions – lined up in chronological order – of Ian Fleming’s 12 novels and two short story collections featuring the British hero and global entertainment icon that is 007

Nevertheless, in achieving their enormous (continuing) success, the Bond movies have, if anything, made the novels even more popular and critically, as well as, publicly enduring. In which case, upon Fleming’s death back in ’64, the novels’ publisher Gildrose Publications set for itself the unenviable task of finding another author to take the gauntlet and continue 007’s literary missions – and the baton wasn’t just passed on once; down through the years it was passed on several times (mirroring, if you like, the relay race-like continual casting of the Bond film character).

First to take the challenge was a true literary heavyweight, Kingsley Amis. Writing under the pseudonym Robert Markham, his stab at Bond in the shape of Colonel Sun was published in 1968 and was received well. He was followed by dedicated thriller writer John Gardner, whose 16 efforts – including two novelizations – (1981-96) were perhaps a little bland and lacked the style and glamour of Fleming, but found a very dedicated audience. Next up was the first American to write Bond, Raymond Benson, whose six novels, three novelizations and three short stories (1997-2002), although not always popular with the critics and die-hard Fleming fans, proved popular with the book-buying public.

Following Benson’s take on the character, Ian Fleming Publications – as Gildrose now became known – decided to mix it up for Bond once more, as they turned to another literary household name, Sebastian Faulks (author of the universally acclaimed Birdsong), to deliver the next 007 thriller in commeration of the centenary of Fleming’s birth. The year was 2008, the book was Devil May Care… and many did care, a lot. Sold to the public and the minority (and yet vocal) literary Bond fans as ‘writing as Ian Fleming’, Faulks delivered a novel that turned out to be more pastiche than perfect imitation; it was almost the Bond of the Roger Moore-starring, outer-space flick Moonraker (1979) than that of the hard-edged Casino Royale. Predictably, the results were controversial; the fans weren’t impressed, but the public seemed to lap up the print-Bond once again.

And now we find ourselves in 2011 and the new offering is Carte Blanche. This time it seems Ian Fleming Publications haven’t gone with the author with the awesome resputation, but with the proven genre writer, whose hand on the tiller, they surely hope, will be a dependable one. With his back-catalogue of popular Lincoln Rhyme and Kathryn Dance crime mysteries, Jeffery Deaver certainly seems on, ahem, paper far from a risky bet to take on Fleming’s mantle.

Indeed, lucky get that I am, I attended a ‘Meet the Author’ Q&A session with Deaver in London at the end of May for the launch of the new novel. Fleming fans would surely have been assuaged by the reference he made at this event to who the literary Bond is and what’s always made him so: “There is a scene at the end of the novel Moonraker (1955), where he [Bond] discovers the missile that Drax [the villain] has gifted to England, doesn’t point out to sea, but actually points to a place called London, which some of you may have heard of. He is cut off from help and has no way of warning, so he resolves to light a cigarette under the rocket as it is being refueled, destroying it, but killing himself. Obviously being Bond, he doesn’t have to do that in the end, but he was prepared to. Essentially, I’ve tried to make him as much like Fleming’s Bond as I can. He’s the same sort of age as Bond was in Casino Royale; he’s experienced. I kept a picture of Hoagy Carmichael next to my keyboard as inspiration.”

The reference to Hoagy Carmichael may be the clincher – any Fleming fan worth his salt knows the real-life individual on whom the writer most based his character’s appearance was the former, a once famous American singer and pianist. However, Deaver’s Bond – and the world he’ll inhabit – will certainly differ from Fleming’s in some respects. This 007 will be a modern-day character, not one of the post-war period as he originally was (and was, for instance, in Devil May Care). It means Bond’s now a veteran of the present Afghan war rather than World War Two, he no longer smokes (according to Deaver for no real ethical reason, but because smoking would interfere with his ‘tradecraft’ – a modern-day spook who smokes would stand out) and his mode of transportation has altered (out goes the 1933 modified Bentley sportscar; in comes the beast that is the Bentley Continental GT).

Royale tribute: the cover and villains’ interview spread of the latest issue (#10) of MI6 Confidential – click on the links below for more details and to purchase the magazine

I’m yet to read Carte Blanche (it’s next on my list), but, like I said, the omens look good; Deaver seems to know the scale of the task he’s taken on and, so he said at the London Q&A, is very open to writing more Bond adventures should this one be a success. Good luck to him then, after all, he’s well aware that with writing Bond, an author doesn’t have complete carte blanche: “People don’t read books to get to the middle. A writer’s job is to get you to turn the page and Fleming had that. He kept his stories short and economical, used escalating conflict and kept it lean. Oh, and did I mention the Bond girls? Fleming had his finger on the pulse of what we like. Fine food, drink and beautiful women: these are essential. I think Fleming’s philosophy was, although he never wrote this down, it is evident in his writing, that writing books is all about you guys. And that’s my philosophy, too. In the end you have to write for your audience.”

Speaking of writing for your audience, if you’re a real fan of James Bond, then another relatively new publication may be just up your street. The magazine MI6 Confidential has been going for about a year now and, with its impressive – some never-before-seen – images, as well as exclusive interviews with many folks who’ve played key roles behind-the-scenes on the ‘official’ Eon film series down through the years, it provides a welter of information and entertainment for the reader on the world of 007.

As noted, the very first Bond novel was Casino Royale and 53 years after its first publication, Eon Productions finally got around to releasing their film adaptation. The result was perhaps the most critically acclaimed of their 007 epics and, of course, a huge box-office smash, introducing Daniel Craig to the world as a brand new and yet – to my mind – really quite Flemingian movie Bond. And the latest issue of MI6 Confidential focuses specifically on this most popular of Eon’s epics, featuring, as it does, brand new interviews with the actors behind that film’s villains (Mads Mikkelsen and Jesper Christensen), director Martin Campbell, composer David Arnold, production designer Peter Lamont, costume designer Lindy Hemming, storyboard artist Martin Asbury (as well as his storyboards) and, in a link back to Fleming, an article on the writer’s real-life inspiration for the ‘Casino Royale’ of the novel and film’s title.

After all, it’s inevitable that, whether Sebastian Faulks is doing a pastiche, Jeffery Deaver’s having his protagonist returning from Noughties’ Afghanistan or the marvellous Roger Moore’s winking (and bonking) his way around the Milky Way, in the end James Bond will always find his way back to Fleming.

~~~

Further reading:

http://www.007carteblanche.co.uk

http://www.ianfleming.com

http://www.mi6confidential.com

htpp://twitter.com/mi6confidential

Indy at 30: Hollywood’s holy grail ~ the making of Raiders Of The Lost Ark

June 2, 2011

Whipping up a storm: Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, the 1930s – and 1980s – ultimate movie hero, in detail from the original US theatrical release poster of Raiders Of The Lost Ark

You could argue it was the world’s most important sandcastle. It was made on a beach near the Mauna Kea volcano, Hawaii, in late May 1977 by one Steven Spielberg, in the company of a certain George Lucas. The latter was holidaying on the island to escape the crazy phenomenon his latest movie Star Wars, released just days before, was fast becoming; the former was taking a break during filming of his latest flick – and soon to be mega-hit – Close Encounters Of The Third Kind (1977). During the sandcastle’s construction, Lucas told Spielberg of a film character he’d dreamt up inspired by 1930s and ’40s adventure film serials, which apparently would be ‘better than James Bond’. Spielberg loved the notion, but claimed the surname ‘Smith’ was wrong for it; ‘Jones’ would be a better fit. He had no qualms about the first name, though, after the moniker of Lucas’s Alaskan Malamute dog, ‘Indiana’.

Fast-forward four years – to June 12 1981, to be precise – and Raiders Of The Lost Ark, Indiana Jones’s first adventure, was released in US cinemas. By the end of the year, not only had it become 1981’s biggest domestic and global box-office hit, but it was also destined, in combination with Star Wars, to change the face of Hollywood forever. It would also spawn a huge prequel, two more equally successful sequels, a popular TV series, enormously widespread merchandise and fuel the imagination of kids of all ages for each and every year to come. And this year – this month, in fact – marks Raiders’ 30th anniversary, surely reason enough then, along with all the other facts listed in this paragraph, to celebrate on this blog the often behatted, sometimes begdraggled, always beloved hero’s first foray on film?

Mind you, if you’re being pedantic, the conception of Indiana Jones actually pre-dated Star Wars – it was in Lucas’s mind as early as 1973, following the release that year of his first movie hit, the nostalgic early ’60s-set adolescent drama American Grafitti. Back then, however, he was still a Hollywood up-and-comer (albeit already a successful one) and it would take the success of Luke Skywalker and co. to give him the clout to get another heavily fantasy-driven adventure off the ground. Back in ’73, he wrote a tentative screenplay entitled The Adventures Of Indiana Smith and showed it to his friend, and future helmer of Oscar-nominated The Right Stuff (1983), Philip Kaufman. Like Spielberg would later, Kaufman was much taken with it and, in a moment of true inspiration, suggested the plot device (specifically, the item the hero would seek) should be the biblical Ark of the Covenant, having remembered his childhood dentist telling him about this ‘lost treasure’. The two worked on the script together, but eventually the thing stalled and Lucas focused instead on what would become Star Wars.

Sandpeople: Lucas and Spielberg on location during the filming of Raiders – sandcastle just out of shot, probably (left); an example of Jim Steranko’s influential pre-poduction artwork (right)

However, come January 1978 and with Spielberg’s commitment to the project as director (he’d long wanted to helm a globe-trotting, Bond film-style movie), Indiana Smith – or, rather, Jones – was back in Lucas’s sights. The pair enlisted Lawrence Kasdan (who would go on to write and direct 1983’s The Big Chill and, of course, co-author the screenplay to Star Wars critically-acclaimed sequel, 1980’s The Empire Strikes Back) as screenwriter and Frank Marshall as producer; and then, for four days, Lucas, Spielberg and Kasdan sat around discussing the story and other concepts for the flick.

The former came up with the ideas of the heroine punching the hero for leaving her years before, a monkey giving a Hitler salute and the inclusion of a submarine, while Spielberg came up with the notion of a giant boulder chasing the hero (see clip below), borrowed in fact from popular comic books based on Disney’s Uncle Scrooge character (later to be immortalised in the ’80s animated DuckTales TV series). A jump from an aeroplane in a raft, the hero hiding behind a rolling gong in an escape in Shanghai and a mine chase were also conceived at this stage, but owing to their grandness were ultimately dropped from Kasdan’s 100-page treatment and subsequent screenplay – yet all three, of course, eventually made it into Raiders‘ prequel, Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom (1984).

There was disagreement, however, over the characterisation of Indiana Jones himself. Who was he to be? A sign of the fact, yet again, that James Bond was a big inspiration can be seen in Lucas envisioning him as a playboy adventurer (this would later be played around with in the nightclub-based opening sequence of Temple Of Doom), but Spielberg felt he should be darker, even an alcholic. In the end, it seems they and Kasdan settled for something in between – and with the casting of Harrison Ford in the role, this was unquestionably determined – as an inwardly academic, outwardly world-weary but unfailingly heroic, rugged and romantic hero. Artist Jim Steranko’s pre-production conceptual illustrations also helped to inform Spielberg’s ultimate leanings on the character (such as the hat and leather jacket) and, indeed, the look of the whole film.

The film itself started shooting in late June 1980 and was completed under budget  just 72 days later. Ironically for a movie that would become synonymous with economic success, the making of Raiders was actually an all-out exercise of filming-on-the-cheap. Several studios had passed on the flick owing to worries of excessive cost until Paramount signed on. Spielberg later claimed that his directorial style was to do up to just four takes per scene, in the manner almost of filming a silent movie – ‘shoot only what you need; no waste’. Perhaps to keep costs down, Lucas directed some of the second unit filming too.

As with Star Wars (and its sequels) interior shooting took place at Elstree Studios in Hertfordshire, England, which again proved cheaper than filming on Hollywood sound stages. Exterior filming took place in Kaui, Hawaii (the opening sequence); San Francisco’s City Hall (the Washington DC staircase at the end); and the shots of the plane Indy travels in to Nepal as well as a street scene set there were taken, respectively, from the films Lost Horizon (1973) and The Hindenburg (1975).

The second half of Raiders, of course, is set in Egypt, but instead was filmed in Tunisia, its north African neighbour. The latter country had, once again, been used for location shooting in Star Wars, specifically for the Tatooine scenes. In fact, the canyon in which Indy threatens to destroy the Ark with a bazooka is exactly the same location as was used for the Jawas’ attack on R2D2 and C3P0 in that movie. It wasn’t all plain sailing, though, as the segment set in the ancient site of Tanis (filmed in Sedala) proved considerably hard-going, for here the crew and cast suffered seriously from both heat and food poisoning. At one point, John Rhys-Davis (who played Indy’s friend Sallah) was so ill he defecated during shooting and, in perhaps the film’s most famous filming incident, a dysentery-suffering Ford declined from indulging in a complicated sword fight with one baddie, suggesting he simply shoot him with his pistol instead. Realising this could make for a nice moment of throwaway sardonic humour, Spielberg agreed and the result, of course, was cinematic gold (see clip below).

Shadow and cameo: an unforgettable shot – Indy’s silhouette looms large at Marion’s Nepalese bar (left); blink and you’ll miss R2D2 and C3P0 carved into the wall of the Well of Souls (right)

Much, one might say, was blessed about Raiders. For instance, Ford himself should never have been Indiana Jones. Although always Spielberg’s first choice, Lucas originally wasn’t keen as he didn’t want the actor who had played Star Wars‘ hugely popular Han Solo to be the star of his next grandstand project (he claimed he had no desire for Ford to become Robert De Niro to his Martin Scorsese). Lesser known actors were auditioned then, including Peter Coyote, who would go on to play the kindly NASA scientist in Spielberg’s ET: The Extra-Terrestrial (1982); John Shea, later to become Lex Luthor in TV’s Lois & Clark: The New Adventures Of Superman (1993-97); and Tim Matheson, who played Vice-President John Hoynes in The West Wing (1999-2006).

Eventually – and notoriously – Tom Selleck was offered the chance to play Indy, but owing to having just won the starring role in Hawaii-based TV detective drama Magnum P.I. (1980-88), Selleck opted to honour his contract and turned down the movie. In actuality, owing to a writers’ strike, filming on the first season of the new show was delayed by six months, meaning he could have squeezed in Raiders. But it wasn’t to be; Spielberg convinced Lucas the choice for their hero had been staring them in the face all along and Harrison Ford became Indiana Jones.

Other casting choices included Karen Allen as the spunky love-interest Marion Ravenwood, who had appeared in National Lampoons’ Animal House (1978) and for Raiders had auditioned alongside Matheson and Shea. Oscar-nominee-to-be Debra Winger turned down the role and Sean Young (a perennially passed-over actress for lead roles this decade) had also been considered. British actor Paul Freeman was cast as the film’s antagonist René Belloq, a character for whom Spielberg had originally conceived a robotic arm and for whom leading Italian actor Giancarlo Gianinni (later to play another René , namely 007 ally Mathis in 2006’s Casino Royale) was also a possible player.

In addition, hugely respected actor Denholm Elliott – who in the ’80s won the BAFTA award for Best Supporting Actor in three consecutive years – played Indy’s senior colleague Marcus Brody, while Belloq’s Nazi collaborator Toht was portrayed by Ronald Lacey – a role originally offered to German screen giant Klaus Kinski, but who turned it down on the grounds he thought the project was ‘moronic sh*t’ (everyone’s entitled to their opinion). Finally, the oh-so memorable, sadistically cruel and evil-looking Gestapo officer Dietrich was played by Wolf Kahler – who, less famously, would go on to play the German ambassador in UK TV’s Ferrero Rocher ads, uttering the unforgettable ‘Excellente’ line.

As one of the 1980s’ leading fantasy adventures, Raiders is rightly well recalled for its effects. In another connection with Star Wars, Industrial Light & Magic, the company of clever beardies that was formed for that film and so brilliantly delivered its visual effects, was relied on for Indy’s on-screen wonders too. Its blue-ribband work features in the climactic opening-of-the-Ark scene, in which floating wraiths and firestorms can be seen as the Old Testament’s ultimate container is unwisely uncorked by those nasty Nazis. Most impressive of all though are, of course, the ghoulish depictions of Toht and Dietrich’s deaths. The head of the former literally melts on screen (thanks to a gelatine model being exposed to a heat lamp) and the latter’s bonce seems to implode (it was merely a hollow model from which the air was withdrawn).

Intriguingly, sound effects supervisor Ben Burtt (another Star Wars alumni and later the voice of Pixar’s WALL.E) literally went back to basics, to the of ’30s and ’40s TV adventure serials that had inspired the character of Indy to start with, for the movie’s sound effects. The heavy thudding sound of punches were created by striking baseball gloves and leather jackets with baseball bats; Indy’s pistol crack was the dynamic sound of a 30-30 Winchester pistol; sliding sponges over cement and running fingers through cheese casserole recreated the sound of slithering snakes in the Well of Souls scene; and, perhaps best of all, the wonderful clunk of the Ark opening was actually produced by sliding the lid off a toilet cistern.

Treasure hunt: Raiders goes global – posters for the Spanish, Polish and Japanese markets

More melodic certainly – and far better known too – for his work on Raiders is genius movie composer John Williams. Already a close and crucial collaborator with both Spielberg and Lucas on, respectively, Jaws (1975) and, yes, Star Wars, Williams provided an outstanding score once again, full of pieces that augment the movie’s high adventure, comic-book romance and supernatural suspense. Unquestionably and rightly though, its best remembered feature is Indy’s signature tune, known as the Raiders March (see bottom clip). This segment was originally two separate movements that Spielberg liked so much he advised Williams to combine them, producing the unforgettable and almost universally adored brassy and bombastic, stirring and stupendous theme.

As we all know, just like its music, Raiders hit an enormous chord with the moviegoing public. It cost $18 million to make and grossed a total of $384 million. To this day, it remains among the top 150 biggest hits of all-time at the global box-office and, inflation adjusted, the 17th biggest at the North American box-office. Spawning three cinematic follow-ups – Temple Of Doom, Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade (1989) and Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull (2008) –  together the quartet have grossed a total of $1,978 million, ensuring Indy’s quotient of just four films rank ninth on the list of the most financially successful movie series.

Aside from its economic rewards though, Raiders was – and is nowadays less well remembered as – a critical whip-cracker too. The year following its release it was nominated for eight Academy Awards, including for Best Picture and for Spielberg in the Best Director category. Maybe surprisingly, it was overlooked for the former in favour of the British sleeper-hit Chariots Of Fire (1981) and for the latter in favour of Warren Beatty, directing the generally unpopular Communist-themed epic Reds. Williams’ score too was overlooked in its category, losing out to Vangelis’s synthesiser-tastic music for Chariots Of Fire. Rightly, however, Raiders did win Oscars for Film Editing, Art Direction, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing (Ben Burtt) and Visual Effects (Industrial Light & Magic).

Toys ‘R’ us: the first of Marvel’s Raiders comic-books (left), Kenner’s 1981 Indiana Jones action figure (middle) and a modern Mr Potato Head dresses up as Indy and pays homage (right)

Moreover, the critics themselves were majoritively shaken and stirred by Indy’s adventurous antics (something that must have delighted the Bond-loving Lucas and Spielberg). For Roger Ebert, Raiders was far more than just a technological triumph, especially because of “its sense of humor and the droll style of its characters”. He added: “we find ourselves laughing in surprise, in relief, in incredulity at the movie’s ability to pile one incident upon another in an inexhaustible series of inventions”. Playboy magazine’s Bruce Williamson simply couldn’t get enough of it: “There’s more excitement in the first ten minutes of Raiders than any movie I have seen all year. By the time the explosive misadventures end, any moviegoer worth his salt ought to be exhausted”.

Perhaps the demographic most delighted with Raiders, mind, was, well, the kids. Once again, like with Star Wars, the child-focused merchandising initiative was in top gear. Not being able to get enough of the flick itself – going to see it over and over again and, thus, healthily contributing to its box-office conquering statistics – in 1982 they also had the official computer game to play, once it had loaded and was ready to play after eons of waiting, that is (in fact, the offcial computer game for ATARI’s 2600 was the very first licenced for a movie). And, in addition to the requisite trading cards and Marvel’s comic-book series,  in ’81 toy manufacturer Kenner released a 30cm Indy action figure for them to play with; the following year they released figures of nine more characters, as well as playsets, vehicles and, yes, even a figure of Indy’s horse. Surely no kid was going to say neigh to that. 

In the years since its release, Raiders, as noted, proved hugely influential, as well as hugely popular. It led to three further Indy adventures, but also – again in hand with Star Wars – persuaded Hollywood of the power of the action/ adventure movie sequel, seeming to steal the thunder of its precursor, the cinematic James Bond, in the process. Moreover, it  inspired supposedly unconnected Hollywood projects throughout the 1980s. Not only were there the thinly veiled Indy copycats, such as the the plum that was Romancing The Stone (1984) – as well as its sequel The Jewel Of The Nile (1985) – and the bomb that was King Solomon’s Mines (1985), but you could also draw a line from Indy through the more adult-themed, Arnie-starring sword and sorcery hokum Conan The Barbarian (1982) to Disney’s live-action romp Return To Oz (1985) and its animated effort The Black Cauldron (1985), plus the Jim Henson-produced, puppet-populated The Dark Crystal (1982), all three of which featured Indy-esque ghoulish hijinks, mild horror and pacy adventure plotting. Going further, one can even note such elements in the Harry Potter novels and films.

And, in honour of the cinematic significance of all-things Jonesian, this post is just the start here – yup,  like it or not, June is verily going to be ‘Indy month’ on this blog with reviews of all four flicks yet to come here at George’s Journal. In the meantime, though, folks, here’s to Raiders’ 30th – I’d invite Marion Ravenwood for a tipple to celebrate, but let’s be honest, she’d probably just drink me under the table and take-off with Indy. And, frankly, given the measure of the hero he is, who could blame her?

The freewheelin’ folkster: happy 70th birthday, Bob Dylan

May 24, 2011

Voice of three generations: Bob Dylan, the man who crossed the great divide between folk and rock, helped provide a soundtrack to the civil rights movement and become a true living legend 

He can’t really sing that well, he once walked out of The Ed Sullivan Show before even appearing and one of his performing aliases is Blind Boy Grunt, but for all that he may just be the most important songwriter of the last 60 or so years. He’s Bob Dylan and, yes, today, he’s 70 years young.

A pioneer in bringing American folk and the protest song to the mainstream both within the US and without, he was a fundamental inspiration for, among so many others, The Beatles, Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and David Bowie – all of them absolute giants of pop and rock music in their own right and whose legacies may be arguably just as important as Dylan’s own. Moreover, his influence was critical for both the seminal ’60s bands The Byrds and, er, The Band – neither would have got started had they not revised parts of his early back-catalogue and, in doing so, achieved distinctive, major hits of their own.

Frankly, it’s hard to overstress Dylan’s importance and brilliance. Recent British poet laureate Andrew Motion believes his work should be taught in schools (in fact, Motion’s probably referring to the man’s stunning lyrical dexterity there, rather than his music – which also should be, and no doubt already is, taught in schools from his home state of Minnesota to the Home Counties’ Milton Keynes). Elsewhere, some academics have called on the Swedish Academy to award Dylan the Nobel Prize for Literature. Actually, they’ve been calling for it for nearly five decades now.

Anyway, to mark the anniversary of the great man’s three-scores-and-ten, I’ve put together my own little tribute – a collection of images from different times in his life and career, as well as clips of both him and (mostly) others delivering key recordings of some of his best loved tunes.

He’s arty, prickly, unpredictable, fascinating and (unlike Presley, Lennon, Harrison, Joplin and Buckley) still alive and kicking at 70, so happy dies natalis to a hurricane-and-a-half, the one and only Bob Dylan…

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First up then, is a version that pretty much resembles the studio recording, but actually isn’t (Dylan’s protective of his stuff appearing on youtube – meh, the man’s a genius after all), of my favourite song of his performed by him himself. Yes, it’s Positively 4th Street and it’s positively perfect… 

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Beat it? (No you can’t): Dylan meeting Beat Generation poets and ’50s counter-culture figureheads Michael McClure (left) and Allen Ginsberg (right), most likely in the mid-’60s 

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The next clip comes from a film soundtrack (imdb charts works by Dylan appearing on the soundtracks of 333 separate titles). It’s the studio version of his epic 1975 song The Hurricane, about the boxer Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter, and plays over the top of an unforgettable, oh-so-cool scene from Dazed And Confused; a flick about 1970s adolescence which itself I can’t praise highly enough… 

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Like a fine wine: Dylan with fellow folk and protest singer Joan Baez, whose professional and personal relationship with the former propelled his career and commitment to civil rights

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Next up is a clip of the beautiful, lilting, Dylan-penned I Shall Be Released. Performed by The Band and featuring on their 1968 album Music From Big Pink, it’s a song that’s arguably more synonymous with them than with its writer, whom they supported as a band themselves several times from the mid-’60s onwards. Dylan released a version of the song himself in 1971…

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Pop (and) art: Dylan meets modern art superstar Andy Warhol in front of a print of the latter’s iconic Elvis Presley work, most likely in the mid- or late ’60s

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And here’s a clip of another song written by Dylan that may have become more famous for the version recorded by another artist, namely Jimi Hendrix’s sublime take on All Along The Watchtower. Forever associated with America’s involvement in the Vietnam War, it was released in 1968, six months after Dylan’s original recording. This version was ranked 48th on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the 500 greatest songs of all-time. Personally, I may’ve placed it higher… 

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(Not) the end of the line: the ultimate supergroup line-up – (from left to right) Dylan, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty, Roy Orbison and George Harrison aka The Traveling Wilburys, from the late ’80s 

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And so, the final clip, of course, is of perhaps the most notorious version of a Dylan song of modern times. Yup, it’s Guns N’ Roses’ studio recording of Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door. Originally written and recorded by its writer for the 1973 movie Pat Garrett & Billy The Kid, its also been famously covered by Eric Clapton, The Grateful Dead (with Dylan), Warren Zevon and, er, Avril Lavigne. This effort, though, was finally recorded by Axl and co. after they performed it live for many years and appeared on the 1991 album Use Your Illusion II. The single reached #2 on the UK charts – mind, of the two, for me Dylan’s own version will always be the #1 …    

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Life moves pretty fast: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is 25 – and 25 more things you maybe didn’t know about the ’80s movie classic

May 20, 2011

A grand day out: Matthew Broderick pulls a sickie, goes to town and serenades a parade girl in the carnival of a 1980s teen movie that is the thoroughly fantastic Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

Those of you of a certain age may be delighted and/ or horrified to learn that next month marks the 25th anniversary of the release of the titular ’80s teen movie that is Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Yes, read it and weep, all you Reagan’s/ Thatcher’s children out there, for the greatest skive known to man is a quarter-of-a-century old.

There is – and always has been – something about Ferris Bueller. It has a real, in the words of Dr Evil, ‘I don’t know what’. While unquestionably of the teen movie staple kicked-off in the ’80s, like St. Elmo’s Fire (1985), Pretty In Pink (1986) and the rest of them, it’s somehow very different, arguably better, maybe even purer than all the rest. Why? Perhaps because it’s really just a simple tale that explores the themes of freedom, the exuberance and brevity of youth, popularity, envy, fraternity and the notion of ‘one brilliant day’. Either that or it’s just an eccerin’ stonkin’ movie.

Anyway, in celebration of Ferris’s silver jubilee, here’s a collection of, yup, 25 facts about the film’s making, release, success and legacy for you all to savour. Twist and shout away, peeps…

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1. Legendary 1980s teen movie filmmaker John Hughes wrote the screenplay to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off in a week in early 1985, partly because a Writers’ Guild Of America strike was imminent.

2. Hughes reckoned that James Stewart could have played Ferris Bueller at the age of 15. He cast young Hollywood and stage actor Matthew Broderick – mostly because he came across as clever, smart and charming.

3. The original edit of the film was 2 hours and 45 minutes long – Hughes filmed pretty exactly the first-draft (or, actually, the only draft) of his screenplay. He later said that: “this time around, I wanted to create a character who could handle everyone and everything”.

4. Regular actress in Hughes’s mid-’80s films, Molly Ringwald wanted to play Ferris’s girlfriend Sloane Peterson, but she has claimed: “John wouldn’t let me do it: he said that the part wasn’t big enough for me”. The role went to Mia Sara instead, who’d recently starred as the love interest in Tom Cruise fantasy vehicle Legend (1985).

5. The charatcer of Cameron Frye, Ferris’s repressed best friend, was based on someone Hughes had known at high school and, originally, he’d wanted to cast Emilio Estevez in the part; Estevez turned it down and eventually it went to Alan Ruck (later to star in sitcom Spin City), who has since said: “Everytime I see Emilio, I want to kiss him… While we were making the movie, I just knew I had a really good part”.

Born losers?: Jeffrey Jones as the perennially put-upon Ed Rooney (left); Jennifer Grey as frustrated sister Jeannie and Charlie Sheen as her monosyballic-addict friend (right)

6. Jeffrey Jones, who played the iconic headmaster Ed Rooney, was told by Hughes during production that he’d be known forever for the role. He was an astute feller, that John Hughes.

7. Like so many of Hughes’s movies, Ferris Bueller is set in his hometown, Chicago. With this film though, he wanted to allow audiences to see more of the city: “This is the first chance I’d really had to get outside while making a movie. Up to this point, the pictures had been pretty small. I really wanted to capture as much of Chicago as I could, not just the architecture and the landscape, but the spirit”.

8. A passionate Beatles fan, Hughes made references to them in his script (the notorious parade scene, of course, features The Fabs’ version of Twist And Shout); apparently, while filming, the director listened to The White Album every single day – the shoot was 56 days long.

9. The actual 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California used in the film was worth $350,000 at the time of shooting (as opposed to the many replicas); the same car sold at auction in 2008 for a truly staggering $10,976,000.

10. The term ‘voodoo economics’ about which the Economics Teacher (Ben Stein) lectures the students in Sloane’s class was invented by George H W Bush in derogatory reference to Ronald Reagan’s economic plans when both were running for the 1980 R epublican Presidential candidacy. Bush, of course, ended up becoming Reagan’s Vice-President.

11. Grace the school secretary’s (Edie McClurg) explanation to Ed Rooney of Ferris Bueller’s popularity in full is: “Oh he’s very popular, Ed. The sportos, motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, d*ckheads. They all adore him. They think he’s a righteous dude”.

12. Art featured in the much-loved Art Institute Of Chicago sequence (included as a self indulgence of Hughes’s, owing to how much he adored the place) includes Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks, Pablo Picasso’s The Old Guitar and Red Armchair, Paul Gauguin’s Day of the Gods (Mahana No Atua), Henry Matisse’s Bathers By A River, Jackson Pollack’s Greyed Rainbow, Toulouse-Lautrec’s In The Circus Fernando: The Ringmaster and Georges Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon On The Island Of La Grande Jatte. The latter is the artwork that features the little girl on which Cameron becomes fixated; the idea behind this moment being, according to Hughes, that the more he looks at the girl, the less he sees her – which scares him because he thinks the same of himself.

13. In the original cut the parade came before the art visit, resulting in test screen audiences hating the art sequence. Hughes realised he needed to switch them around, resulting in both sequences becoming hugely popular. The art sequence originally featured a classical guitar solo over the top – this too was changed to The Dream Academy’s instrumental version of The Smiths’ Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.

14. Broderick’s grin as he punches the air with both fists at the end of the parade scene was for real – 10,000 people had turned up in the centre of Chicago for the shoot as it had been announced a John Hughes movie would be filming there; Broderick claims he felt like a rock star, despite having enormous nerves leading up to the scene. He also had dance-training for it, but had damaged his knee while filming the scenes in which Ferris races home through neighbours’ back gardens (which would come later in the movie), so the shoot was spontaneous and featured barely any of the choreography he’d learnt.

15. The baseball game scene was filmed while the Chicago Cubs were playing at their home stadium, Wrigley Field, but was edited together from two separate matches in the summer of 1985 – at one the Cubs played the Atlanta Braves; at the other thay played the Montreal Expos.

Mr Frye’s pride and joy: the Ferrari 250 GT California, which in the film ended up famously totalled, but in reality would end up auctioned in years to come – and go for a hell of a song

16. Originally, Hughes had wanted to include a scene in which Ferris, Sloane and Cameron went to a strip-club, but the idea was scrapped. A scene featuring Ferris’s children-aged brother and sister were filmed, however, but ended up on the cutting-room floor.

17. To achieve the ‘right’ look for his scene as the drug addict that Ferris’s sister Jeannie (Jennifer Grey, later of Dirty Dancing fame) meets at the police station, the cameo-ing Charlie Sheen apparently stayed awake for 48 hours partying – something that probably wasn’t much of a challenge for him, one suspects.

18. Released on June 11 1986, the film grossed over $70 million at the US box-office, ensuring it became the 10th most successful movie of the year. It had had cost just $6 million to make.

19. Although poorly reviewed by a few critics, many loved Ferris Bueller – just like the filmgoers. US short-story writer and essayist Steve Almond commented: “Although John Hughes has made a lot of movies, Ferris Bueller is the one film I would consider true art, (the) only one that reaches toward the ecstatic power of teendom and, at the same time, exposes the true, piercing woe of that age”.

20. In 1987, Broderick was nominated for a Golden Globe (Best Actor in a Musical or Comedy) for his performance in the flick.

In and out of fashion: Broderick, Sara and Ruck on location in ’86 (l); Aniston, Schlatter and Dolenz in the forgotten spin-off in ’90 (m); a model in a Ferris-friendly ‘geek chic’ t-shirt today

21. No official album of the music featured in the film was released, because naively Hughes didn’t believe anyone would want to buy a record on which all the disparate songs sat. However, due to great demand and as ‘a labour of love’, over the next two years after the film’s release, he sent out to members of his fan mailing list a record of the two songs from the flick of which he owned the rights.

22. The film was parodied in irreverant US humour publication Mad Magazine – as Fearless Bueller’s Day Off in its January 1987 issue.

23. Hughes and Broderick thought about making a sequel together, but could never come up with an idea that would really work. In 1990, however, a TV sitcom version was screened, starring Diagnosis: Murder‘s Charlie Schlatter as Ferris, Ami Dolenz as Sloan and, yes, a pre-Friends Jennifer Aniston as Jeannie. For better or worse, it lasted just 13 episodes.

24. Following John Hughes’s untimely death at the age of 59, a tribute to him took place at the 2010 Academy Awards, at which Broderick said: “For the past 25 years, nearly every day someone comes up to me, taps me on the shoulder and says, ‘Hey, Ferris, is this your day off?”.

And finally…

25. Fancy having Ferris’s day off yourself? No problem whatsoever! So long as you can persude this blogger to send you a copy of his brilliant self-made Ferris Bueller board game, that is…