Monday Night Monologue: Mad as...something

There's a lot of things in the world to be mad about: the death of Benazhir Bhutto, the presidency of George Bush, the entertainment journalism of Billy Bush, the writers strike, Iraq everything, the president of Iran's visit to New York, the Spider-Man reboot, that kid who knocked over the table in class today (all my stuff was on there) and of course Marion Cotillard's Golden Globe victory over Amy Adams. Well Paddy Chayefsky, Sidney Lumet and Peter Finch have got your back angry internet reader.

Howard Beale: I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth. Banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's no one anywhere that seems to know what to do with us. Now into it. We know the air is unfit to breathe, our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had 15 homicides and 63 violent crimes as if that's the way it's supposed to be. We know things are bad. Worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy so we don't go out anymore. We sit in a house as slowly the world we're living in is getting smaller and all we say is, "Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster, and TV, and my steel belted radials and I won't say anything." Well I'm not going to leave you alone. I want you to get mad. I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot. I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crying in the streets. All I know is first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, "I'm a human being. God Dammit, my life has value." So, I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out, and yell, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" I want you to get up right now. Get up. Go to your windows, open your windows, and stick your head out, and yell, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!" Things have got to change my friends. You've got to get mad. You've got to say, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!" Then we'll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first get up out of your chairs, open your window, stick your head out and yell, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!"

Network is an odd duck because it was oddly prescient at the time it came out. Except now it seems that it just didn't go far enough, we're way, way past it. In today environment Beale seems embarrassingly tame compared to your O'Reilys, your Olbermans your etc. Media satire and criticism has morphed into a giant monster beast that render the movie tame and irrelevant. Still the acting and scripting are sharp especially given the context.

Monday Night Monolgue: If I say I'm an oil man

Oh how I love There Will Be Blood. I really, really wanted to do the monologue from the end of the movie which is an absolute tear the house down brilliant (or maybe just insane) bit of writing, directing and acting. But spoiling it would be a lousy thing to do to those of you who haven't had the privilege of seeing it. Instead I will present Daniel Plainview's (Daniel Day-Lewis) opening monologue from the start of the film. Well, I suppose "start" is a bit of a misnomer as what I will present here actually takes place eight pages into the script (roughly ten minutes of screen-time). It's the first time we hear anyone speak in the film and it's pretty remarkable. In these first ten minutes we've been watching Plainview work a derrick and earn his keep by the sweat of his brow. We've also seen a lot of death due to negligence. Years pass and Plainview goes from dirty, sweaty working man to savvy businessman all without a word. In a rare moment of decency (incredibly...incredibly rare for this film) Plainview inspects his new child H.W. while riding on a train. As the two ride in quiet we begin to hear this evening's monologue as it slowwww dissolves to the intent face of Daniel Day-Lewis.

DANIEL

Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve traveled over half our state to get here this evening. I couldn’t get away sooner because my new well was coming in at Coyote Hills and I had to see about it. That well is now flowing at two thousand barrels and it’s paying me an income of five thousand dollars a week. I have two others drilling and I have sixteen producing at Antelope.
So - Ladies and Gentlemen - if I say I’m an oil, man you will agree. (beat) You have a great chance here – but bear in mind: you can loose it all if you’re not careful. Out of all men that beg for a chance to drill your lots, maybe one in twenty will be oil men; the rest will be speculators – men trying to get between you and the oil men – to get some of the money that by rights come to you. Even if you find one that has money, and means to drill, he’ll maybe know nothing about drilling and he’ll have to hire out the job on contract – and then you’re depending on a contractor that’s tryin’ to rush the job through – so he can get another contract just as quick as he can. This is the way that this works.

An OC VOICE INTERUPTS, LOUDLY; Daniel holds his composure.

OC MALE VOICE

What is your offer? We’re wasting time.

DANIEL

I do my own drilling and then men that work for me, work for me and they are men I know. I make it my business to be there and see to their work. I don’t lose my tools in the hole and spend months fishing for them; I don’t botch the cementing off and let water in the hole and ruin the whole lease

REVEAL, AT THAT MOMENT, young H.W. (age 7) He is standing behind Daniel and looking at the group OC. Daniel and H.W.;

DANIEL

I’m fixed like no other company in this field and that’s because my Coyote Hills well has just come in – I have a string of tools all ready to put to work…I can load a rig onto trucks and have them here in a week. I have business connections so I can get the lumber for the derrick – such things go by friendship in a rush like this. And this is why I can guarantee to start drilling and put up the cash to back my word. I assure you, whatever the others promise to do, when it comes to the showdown they won’t be there.

Monday Night Monologue: I'm a big damn Christmas softy

No real introduction here (and yes I know it's from a TV movie but come on, I would've done one from It's a Wonderful Life but we did one by Jimmy Stewart last week, ok we'll do it next year I promise). I may not celebrate Christmas but I like what it represents to a lot of folks. So without further ado...

Linus Van Pelt: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." That's what Christmas is all about.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight.

Monday Night Monologue: Nothing small in the bar

There never has been nor ever will there be an actor as universally liked as James "Jimmy" Stewart. Working with some of the greatest directors of all-time (Hitchcock, Ford, Cukor, Lubitsch, Preminger, Aldrich, Siegel and of course Capra) Stewart made a name for himself as the charming but humble, normal American man. Some directors, like Hitchcock, found clever ways to subvert this image, Anthony Mann virtually made his name in Westerns by skewering the traditional Stewart persona. To be fair Stewart lived a a time of less celebrity intrigue, he never had to deal with the National inquirer or TMZ or god help us all thesuperficial.com. Stewart played good guys, decent guys and the public loved him for it because that's all they ever saw. No actor served as a better public barometer of human decency with the possible exception of Gregory Peck. Stewart is quite simply the man.

It's interesting to note though that for all his collaborators one of the films Stewart is best known for is Harvey. Based on the 1945 Pulitzer Prize winning play by Mary Chase. Harvey is about kind, happy-go-lucky fellow Elwood P. Dowd whose best friend happens to be a six foot three rabbit. The other problem is that Harvey is invisible. His society obsessed sister does not take kindly to Elwood's delusion and wants him committed to spare their family embarrassment. Elwood, however, is such a decent guy and so innocent that he keeps dodging being "cured." (Yes Richard Kelly took some inspiration from this for Donnie Darko). The film isn't much on a technical level, in fact its as simple and down to Earth as its protagonist. The film gets by on the strength of its lead and the script.

You can run this clip from the start until about 4:33. The screenplay is by Mary Chase and Oscar Brodney.

Elwood: Harvey and I sit in the bars, have a drink or two, play the jukebox. And soon the faces of all the other people turn toward mine and they smile. And they’re saying, “We don’t know your name, mister, but you’re a very nice fellow.” Harvey and I warm ourselves in all these golden moments. We’ve entered as strangers and soon we have friends and they come over and sit with us and they drink with us and they talk to us and they tell about the big terrible things they’ve done. And the big wonderful things they’ll do. Their hopes, their regrets, their loves and their hates. All very large, because nobody ever brings anything small into a bar. And then, I introduce them to Harvey. And he’s bigger and grander than anything they offer me. And when they leave, they leave impressed. The same people seldom come back, but that’s envy, my dear. There’s a little bit of envy in the best of us. That’s too bad, isn’t it?

Doctor Sanderson: How did you end up calling him Harvey?

Elwood: Well, Harvey's his name!

Sanderson: How do you know that?

Elwood: Well, actually, there was a rather interesting coincidence on that, Doctor. One night, several years ago, I was walking early in the evening down on Fairfax Street between 18th and 19th. I had just put Ed Hickey into a taxi--Ed had been mixing his rye with his gin, and...I just felt that he needed conveying. Well, anyway, I was walking down along the street, and I heard this voice saying, "Good evening, Mister Dowd." Well, I turned around, and here was this big 6-foot-tall rabbit leaning up against a lamppost. Well, I thought nothing of that, since when you've lived in a town as long as I've lived in this one, you get used to the fact that everyone knows your name. So naturally, I went over to chat with him. And he said to me, he said, 'Ed Hickey was a bit spiffed this evening, or could I be mistaken?' Well, of course, he was *not* mistaken. I think the world and all of Ed, but he was *spiffed*. Well, we talked like that for awhile, and then I said to him, I said, "You have the advantage on me. You know my name, and I don't know yours." And right back at me, he said, "What name do you like?" Well, I didn't have to think twice about that. Harvey's always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, "Harvey." And --this is the interesting thing about the whole thing--he said, "What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey.

Stewart's conviction is a thing of beauty. Only the most hard-ass cynics and critics walk away from Harvey convinced Harvey isn't real. The film seems especially interesting in light of The Golden Compass a film (yes, yes and a book) which features a person's soul as an animal called a daemon. I would argue that Harvey is Elwood's daemon, except in this case the daemon is invisible. I realize that the film is pretty light but honestly how often do movies ever really examine public decorum and social behavior directly. Harvey is a simple pleasure but a pleasure none the less.

Monday Night Monologue: Get a JOB sir!

Hooray, hooray it's the second week installment of our recurring feature Monday Night Monologue. This one comes from another personal favorite which also happens to arguably be the greatest film comedy of all-time. A film that features, well, I wouldn't call him a hero exactly, but some sort of a man. The movie that made being shomer shabbas cool. The movie that taught us that nobody fucks wit da Jesus. Have you guessed yet?

With all the hyperbole being thrown at No Country For Old Men (of which I will cop to being a part of back in the long ago days of the blog-a whole two plus weeks ago) it might be tempting to forget that the Coen's already have several classics under their belt (I'm thinking Miller's Crossing, Barton Fink, O Brother... and some other people like Fargo not so much me). The Big Lebowski absolutely belongs on that list of Coen classics. The film is endlessly re-watchable and ultra-quotable. Every character so rich and fascinating that they could each easily support their own film. Though the twists and turns of plot may be as convoluted as the Chandler inspired plots the film is satirizing the basic set-up is straightforward enough.

Generally affable The Dude (a blissfully chill Jeff Bridges) has had his mellow harshed by nihilist thugs who demand money from him and have the nerve to pee on his rug (which is a shame as it really tied the room together). It turns out that the villains have mistaken The Dude (who used to go by Jeff Lebowski) with crippled philanthropist millionaire Jeffrey Lebowski (David Huddleston). Seeking compensation, The Dude confronts old-man Lebowski, the titular Big Lebowski. It doesn't go well. The bit I'm talking about is at 3:53 but you could do worse then watching the whole clip.

Mr. Lebowski: My wife is not the issue here! I hope that some day my wife will learn to live on the allowance, which is ample, but if she does not that is her problem not mine. Just as the rug is your problem. Just as every bum's lot in life is his own responsibility, regardless of who he chooses to blame. I didn't blame anyone for the loss of my legs. Some Chinaman took them from me in Korea, but I went out and achieved anyway. Heh, heh. Now I cannot solve your problems sir, only you can.

The Dude: Oh fuck it.

Mr. Lebowski: "Oh, fuck it." Yes, that's your answer, that's your answer to everything. Tattoo it onto your forehead. Your revolution is over Mr. Lebowski. Condolences, the bums lost. My advice to you is to do what your parents did and get a job sir! The bums will always lose, do you hear me Lebowski? The bums will always lose!

Good lord does Huddleston give good blowhard. Then again the Coen's have a bottomless stable of portly, robust, old, cranky white guys (Huddleston, Charles Durning, John Goodman, John Polito). I laugh every time he gets to the part about the bums always losing. Also amusing is the un-noticed dissonance between "Chinaman" and "Korea." I also particularly enjoy how completely un-phased Bridges is by the whole explosion, it's at best a nuisance, not anywhere near the life changing scolding the real Lebowski thinks he's giving.

Till next time, the blog abides.

Monday Night Monologue: A Few of My Favorite Things

Hey everyone, I was feeling a little bummed out after I put on my angry pants (or the slacks of wrath if it's a formal occasion) this morning to complain to the rude lady about her in-theatre comments during The Mist. So I figured I'd cheer myself up by playing the glad game (thanks Terry). Anyhow, this in turn got me thinking about another list of things that make life worth living from one of my favorite movies, which THEN in turn got me thinking about doing a recurring feature on the blog. So welcome to the first of what I hope to be many Monday Night Monologues. You can watch it at about 1:05 in the clip below or just read it if you're at work sans headphones.

Why is life worth living? It's a very good question. Um... Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh... Like what... okay... um... For me, uh... ooh... I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... uh... um... and Wilie Mays... and um... the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony... and um... Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues... um... Swedish movies, naturally... Sentimental Education by Flaubert... uh... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... um... those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne... uh... the crabs at Sam Wo's... uh... Tracy's face...

-Isaac Davis (Woody Allen, Manhattan)

Its such an oddly grouped list, an almost calculated mix of pretentious affectations (note that its not just "Swedish movies" but "Swedish movies, naturally"), wistful low-brow and unabashed sentiment. The "uh's" are spot on too. Even the most elastically verbose of us can't summon genius fluidly. The pauses not only make it sound more natural but make it relate-able.

If you've noticed the header of this blog (and who hasn't?) you'll note that I have a great deal of love for this particular Allen film. Interestingly enough Allen disliked the film so much he begged United Artists to shelve it indefinitely. I can't even begin to fathom why. Maybe some of the personal details of Davis' love-life hit too close to home? Maybe he was worried how he'd look dating someone so much more younger than himself on screen (a fear he clearly later abandoned)?

For whatever reasons Allen may have for disliking the film, I can think of thousands of reasons why its a winner. The rich Gershwin score, the lustrous black and white wide screen cinematography of Gordon Willis (who, if I ever start doing the DP appreciation column I've been promising myself to start researching, will get one of the first entries), the dazzling script by Allen and his Annie Hall writing partner Marshall Brickman. Diane Keaton a long way from playing Annie Hall. An ice cold Meryl Streep. Manhattan itself and all its gorgeous locations. Good lord this movie makes me want to go to the planetarium with that special someone and just soak it all in.