Doctor Detroit

"there is no doctor."
"there is if you believe in him brother."

argentine writer césar aira has this idea he calls "flight forward" that basically means he never allows himself to feel stuck as a writer cause at any point he can invent something to unstick himself. seems like this concept has always existed, but i like that aira cherishes it to the point that it's gifted a name and implemented as a central feature.

doctor detroit, directed by michael pressman (tmnt ii: secret of the ooze) is a silly fun movie that ignores the weight of reality in order to allow the imagination flight.

a character in doctor detroit making a face one might make while watching doctor detroit

basically the entire movie is a "flight forward" cause it's the telling of the creation of a character invented by another character at the story's beginning. what happens is this pimp can't repay his business partner (named mom) the 60k he owes, and so invents a person named doctor detroit, who then must be made real. associate professor clifford skridlow (dan aykroyd) is the person trapped into this role, which role is mostly the opposite of his normal everyday role, although the plus side is the task allows him to access parts of himself previously unrealized.

the invention of doctor detroit prompts a series of problems which in turn require more inventiveness. the movie, thankfully, often uses fun as an ingredient of invention.

to me its value seems to be not so much an examination of an interior self or the root of human problems, but a stimulation of the human animal's creative faculties and a reminder of infinite possibility.

Punching the Clown

Faced with several attractive possibilities for Netflix streaming, but overloaded on conflicting reasons for watching each one, I instead decided to watch a completely random movie I'd never heard of and knew nothing about. Typical to this situation, the Netflix image for the movie was a deciding factor:

The randomness of my choice, as opposed to the deliberateness of selecting one 'for my mood' or based on expectations, combined with the interesting poster (complete with laurels), and the positivity expressed by the swath of reviews I sampled, compelled me to watch Punching the Clown. Sometimes this method burns me and wastes my time, but I was lucky enough this time that it paid off.

Henry Phillips plays a fictional version of himself in a movie he co-wrote with director Gregori Viens. Henry is a comedian/musician large enough to have his name listed in Wikipedia, and small enough that the link doesn't lead to a page (red font = no link):

and that seems like a pretty good introduction to Henry. In the movie he's decided to give his industry career a chance to blossom by moving to LA and sleeping on his brother's couch. His brother, Matt (Matthew Walker), is an actor who, when not auditioning for Hot Pocket commercials, dresses as Batman for children's parties.

Not actually a photo of Matt, this is Henry in Matt's costume. Matt is a balding redhead with a goatee and jangly teeth (I assume that's how he likes to be described)

Matt: Carrie left me.

Henry: Aw shit man. Just like that huh?

Matt: Well we had a pretty big fight, and I'll spare you all the gory details, but I thought it would be a good idea to make up, so I sent her a singing telegram. Then she fucked the singing telegram guy.

The movie does a good job of rerouting typical situations into humorous variants. The narrative works by surprise, coincidence, misunderstanding, etc punchline betrayals of audience expectations. His lyrical humor functions this way as well, by employing creative wordplay; because of this, his songs work best the first time you hear them (I wonder if the movie would be like that too, cinematically it's unimpressive).

The movie's LA feels unprocessed and realistic (it's shot 'documentary style'). There's often a satirical view of LA milieu and its tendency for small-talk charged with business overtones. Other LA topics explored are personal voice vs marketing image, power vs perception of power, public appearances vs reality, etc social dimensions common to the entertainment industry.

A thing I liked about Punching the Clown is Henry doesn't possess an LA personality. Henry seems genuinely unfazed by the gloss and glamor of the city, uninterested in adapting to its business models. He hopes to remain himself and obtain the modest goal of financial success. In this way the movie is about the enduring artistic struggle to retain one's integrity and intentions in the business of art. This makes the movie the least-LA LA movie I've seen in a long, long time.

I don't think Henry places himself above LA, I think he's likable for his skill at deflating the ego of LA while cracking into his own persona. It's not at all a story about a rise to success, or even overlooked genius. Just some crummy and relatable semi-miserableness. He pokes fun at his plight by performing a blues song that's about being out of blues, because his life isn't so bad. The movie's dry humor compliments its vague dreariness, and it's consistently funny and interesting.

She Done Him Wrong ('33)

"Listen, when women go wrong, men go right after them."

SHE DONE HIM WRONG

a pre-code saloon-set romantic comedy

directed by Lowell Sherman

 "You know I, I always did like a man in a uniform. And that one fits you grand. Why don't you come up sometime and see me. I'm home every evening."

Talk about She Done Him Wrong is talk about Lady Lou (Mae West) dominating the screen. Liking her is the same as liking the movie. It's not the mere fact that she's the main character, it's that her behavior and attitude captivate beyond the normal. She's to this movie what Tom Power (James Cagney) is to The Public Enemy. She's a sex gangster.

The movie could be played in science museums under the title MAE WEST: FORCE OF NATURE. She'd double-feature with tornados.

The setting is New York, Bowery, in the 1890s: Lou sings in a saloon owned by her benefactor Gus (Noah Beery), whose charming Russian partner Sergei (Gilbert Roland) shows romantic interest in Lou. An unscrupulous sexual and business rival of Gus's, Dan (David Landau), haunts the saloon, desperate to win Lou's affections.

The saloon's atmosphere envelops the movie, it's portrayed from: Lou's bedroom, the bar area, the back-alley, and the stage; most of the movie's action takes place in the building. It's a late-early entry for cinematographer Charles Lang, who would go on to shoot many more movies, including Ace in the Hole, One-Eyed Jacks, How the West Was Won, The Magnificent Seven, and Some Like it Hot. Here the camera feels wooden and flat. It's missing dynamism.

 The script, noted for Lou's crackling repartee and bawdy double entendres, is a censor-lightened version of West's play Diamond Lil. It may be no small coincidence that in 1934, the year after this movie's release, Hollywood instituted the production code. 

Director Lowell Sherman began his career as an actor. He directed thirteen features, sometimes directing himself. If he was of any use to West and Grant I'm not sure, but he was of no use to cinema (here).

Chick: "You'd sell your heart and lungs for a handful of diamonds, and I'm doing a stretch with the rats and the bugs so you can have them."

Ex-squeeze Chick (Owen Moore) does time for the robbery of diamonds meant for Lou. He's okay with the stretch if Lou's waiting for him, but has crazy suspicions she's being 'unfaithful.'

Sergei: "See, they make your eyes sparkle. And your teeth clean like pearls. Oh you are beautiful. I love you so. The men of my country go wild about women with yellow hair."

Lou: "I'm glad you told me, I want to keep straight on my geography."

Sergei: "I love you. You were made for love, and for love only should you care. And now surely you have enough diamonds."

Lou: "Oooh. Diamonds is my career."

Sergei: "I swear I shall make you happy. I shall die to make you happy."

Lou: "Aaii, but you wouldn't be much use to me dead."

She's the sun of this sexual galaxy. Often her costumes, by a young Edith Head, sparkle. Although dress and body fashions have shifted since the 30's, and social attitudes and behaviors have changed, Lou still literally sparkles. And it's not so much the diamonds and fancy hairstyles and dresses that are magnetic, but the self-confidence Lou radiates.

Captain Cummings: "Well they're wonderful. But they always seem so cold to me. They have no warmth, no soul. I'm sorry you think more of your diamonds than you do of your soul."

Lou: "Well, I'm sorry you think more of my soul than you do of my diamonds. (laugh) Maybe I ain't got no soul."

 Lou wants to fuck the virtuous Captain Cummings (Cary Grant). He's the one she can't have, so the one she wants most of all.

When Chick breaks out of jail he makes his way to Lou,

throws an abusive hissy fit

and pleads for her to run away with him.

And he's only one of her problems. Gus and his partners, to Lou's surprise, are involved in illegal activities, and a federal agent codename The Hawk is after them. Worse, Lou murders Sergei's lover in a fight over a knife.

Combing the hair of her murder victim

Her life on the brink of chaos, the walls closing in, it takes the man with the right kind of love to end Lou's troubles.

Party Girl ('95)

"We still have to hang that piñata, and make the hash brownies."

PARTY GIRL

an independent party comedy drama from 1995

directed by Daisy von Scherler Mayer

This is the first shot of a person in Party Girl, from a tracking shot up a staircase during credits. And the first joke Mary (Parker Posey) makes is calling dollars "pesos." To say I liked this movie right away is an understatement.

Party Girl has lots of personality, style, and verve, lots of great superficiality, and executes these characteristics in a way I think reflects realworld surfaces (the inventorying of which modern literature and movies continue). The glossy, shiny parts of Mary's world stand out, but because she's human and possesses a soul and all that, it's important to explore the nourishment of her external existence. The movie suggests her impulsive party personality is rewarded with chill adventures, good times, sweet parties, mad hookups, crazy drugs, etc, but it doesn't say why she needs these things in her life. I submit that their usefulness is obvious, and that she needs them 'cause the qualities are demanded by the social sphere in which she thrives.

 And, I don't know, who can't relate to that. Who doesn't perform a thing or two for the sake of advancement in the world in which they are immersed, whether it be family life or careerism or hobbies or whatever.

If anything, what's outdated is the way the movie almost attempts to redeem Mary with her burgeoning interest in library science. I say "almost" because how seriously can you take a narrative about a party girl discovering a submerged desire to become a librarian -- the movie has its cake and puts its piece of cake in its pants and sits down. The movie suggests a party lifestyle is one of diminishing returns, and one without meaning, but I submit this describes life in general, and that the substance of life and existence is completely valid itself. Mary's problem is twofold: she lacks money, and she isn't all the way committed to her lifestyle. Perhaps it's better she discovered a formative interest, in order that she may soon confront the strict and patterned formulas of thought inherent to the library sciences. If you don't think that's a reality of library science, don't be silly -- I ask you, where don't these things exist?

I'm being so serious! Do you think I'm partially compelled to seriousness because I want to impart on you my serious feelings about enjoying the hell out of this movie?! It's a great NYC movie: all these eccentric personalities collide for explosively hilarious anecdotes. During this movie I thought about how all the supposedly airhead party characters are interested in books and music and culture, and I thought about how those things could become important to someone living a fast and urban lifestyle. It's funny because in one way the things seem to add to their lives, and in another way the things seem to substitute for an inner life. Like, they hope figuring out music or books or movies or whatever is as good as figuring out themselves.

Probs one of my fav sequences was Mary revisiting her falafel-street-vendor crush (who won't date her because he doesn't want to be her cheap fantasy "vacation") in a series of different awesome fuckme outfits.

It's like, obviously each outfit has a different meaning, why else would she keep trying different ones?? The outfit the dude falls for is her librarian one -- they hook up in the romantic poetry section of the library, when he visits to find some books to learn how to become a teacher in America, which is what he was (a teacher) in the place he's from which is Lebanon.

There's a party freakout scene that's pretty damn good. The party's theme seems to be general Asia. While dancing with a gem bindi but in a Middle Eastern way, Mary starts falling down and people have to hold her up and I think say things to calm her, I don't really remember. Seems like I broke the law of movies, which is to observe, and obeyed the law of parties, which is to let each person party how they see fit.

Party Girl was directed by Daisy von Scherler Mayer. It seems like fucked up shit that Mayer made this movie yet doesn't have a badass movie career. She's directing tv now, are you kidding me? Look, I'm not knocking tv, I haven't seen the tv stuff she's made, except maybe the Mad Men episode I didn't really look into it, but the point is Mayer, based on this movie alone, has a voice, a vision, and talent. And all of these things are rare and valuable, and if a person has them they're worth developing. Maybe it's some gender inequality, I don't know, I keep thinking about Noah Baumbach's Highball, which is a movie that's inferior to Party Girl in every way of which I can conceive. To elaborate, Baumach's first three movies, including the Criterion-released Kicking and Screaming, and Mr. Jealousy, are inferior to Party Girl. I say that as a fan of those movies and Baumbach in general. To be fair, there were a lot of other contemporary NYC moviemakers, and not all of them did as well as Baumach, regardless of gender, he shouldn't have been singled out by me, oops, he probably has a special quality, his movies are special, etc. But to stick to my point: Daisy von Scherler Mayer!

I feel insane right now. Am I being insane? I wrote this review stream-of-conscious. The movie deserved it. (Tell you the truth, I consulted and paraphrased the Paul Bowles novel The Sheltering Sky for an earlier sentence, because it felt relevant, and he was such a good writer :)

Be Yourself! ('30)

"Say, if he can sue me for what I did to him in the cafe,
they can send me to the chair for what I'll do to him in the ring. Hohohoho. Ahahahaha."

BE YOURSELF!

a boxing melodrama musical comedy from 1930

directed by Thornton Freeland

A goodhearted and successful nightclub singer volunteers her lawyering younger brother as the boxing manager of her nightclub-regular alcoholic knuckleheaded crush.

The movie is their quest to transform him from the belly-up boozing loser he is today, into the world boxing champion they know he can be tomorrow. The multi-limbed movie throws constant entertainment punches. For example, Fannie Field (Fanny Brice) listens with her gal pals to her beau's bout on the radio at her club,

is pulled away for a musical number,

and returns to the dressing room to hear the end of the boxing match on the radio,

which is intercut with her personal victory in a fight in the dressing room.

The second film from director Thornton Freeland, who went on to direct 24 more movies before retiring in 1949. None of his movies are particularly famous. This is a rare screen presence for Broadway sensation Fanny Brice, who was the subject of the Barbra Streisand movie Funny Girl and its sequel Funny Lady.

The movie's boxing scenes are silly in a regular silly way. Boxing isn't taken very seriously.

The night club performances are silly in an awesome way.
One stand-out sequence involves a devil-on-stilts, a bunch of backup dancers, Fannie behind a towering podium,

and a little movie magic.

 

F. U. N. "Serious" obstacles, like alcoholism and boy stealing, aren't investigated or developed in a way that leads to revelation or insight; these things are temporary and included to keep things forward traveling and to give the protagonists more victories.

 

They're punctuations in the story, little cheap thrills meant to seduce an audience. This is around the beginning of the Great Depression. It's commonly accepted that people's lives were horrible and bleak enough off-screen at that time, and gloomy material wasn't necessary on-screen. Like, life was horrible, let it be great in one place: the silver screen. I like these movies not only because people wear sweaters with boats on them,

but also because they offer porthole views into the world of the 30s, their clubs and art,

child entertainers,

and this feeling that everything, all misery and everything else,

can be danced away.