Harry Nilsson was “a big bunny with sharp teeth.”
-Paul Williams

Recently, the good folks at the See Hear Podcast (Maurice Bursztynski, Bernard Stickwell, and Tim Merrill) invited me as a guest on their show. We talked about the 2010 biopic, Who is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin’ About Him?)

Not gonna lie here. I love Nilsson’s voice and it chokes me up just thinking about “Without You”, but other than that and a few stray bits of information, I didn’t know much about him. Basically, Nilsson was a smart kid from a poor family in Brooklyn, who traveled west to make his way in show biz. Unlike many others who have done the same thing. Nilsson had some actual talent, and someone noticed.

Early Nilsson albums had a decent amount of studio backing, it seems.

When he first arrived in California, Nilsson and a friend made a few bucks singing Everly Brothers tunes. They amended the songs to fit their vocal ranges and lyrical choices and realized they were writing songs. That was it. Harry worked at the Paramount Theatre in LA as a manager until he began working in a bank to keep him in writing paper and beer. He would work work the swing shift at the bank, go to a bar and drink write all night, get up in the morning and flog his songs to recording studios, then go back to work at the bank. Rinse, repeat—for 7 years.

When one of his songs, “Cuddly Toy”, caught the attention of Monkees singer, Davey Jones, and Jones recorded it, Nilsson quit the bank and became a full-time musician.

This is when the film goes the typical ‘innocent young man makes good and is corrupted by the vile, capitalist music industry’ route, but since it seems to be at least partly true, it’s hard to complain.

Ringo, Harry, and Keith Moon (teetotalers)

Nilsson made a gang of studio albums that seemed to have little to do with musical trends and much to do with his clever way with words, his melodic talent, and his angelic voice. I listened to Nilsson Schmilsson, A Little Touch of Schmillson in the Night, and Nilsson Sings Newman for the podcast, but, spurred on by host, Maurice Bursztynski’s recommendations during the podcast, I also listened to earlier albums, Harry and Pandemonium Shadow Show, which are full of all the witty, musical touches Nilsson was famous for. They’re both also fighting neck and neck to be my favorite Nilsson album. Nilsson got the name for the album from the carnival sideshow in Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes. That’s the name, Pandemonium Shadow Show, not Harry. Harry was his name. I figured I’d clear that up.

Pandemonium Shadow Show album cover

Who is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin’ About Him?) does the talking head thing pretty well. Musicians like Van Dyke Parks, Jimmy Webb, Paul Williams, Brian Wilson, Randy Newman, and Mickey Dolenz all weigh in on their admiration of, love for, and frustration with Nilsson. A prolific songwriter and arranger, Nilsson recorded albums, made TV specials, and contributed or wrote entirely, the soundtracks for films including Midnight Cowboy, The Point, Son of Dracula, and Goodfellas. He wrote and recorded his own songs, covered others’, and wrote songs for other bands to record. Literate, quirky, and romantic, Nilsson’s songs are about love, childhood, heartbreak, dogs, and everything in between.

Who is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin’ About Him?) is a survey course in Harry Nilsson. It doesn’t dig too deeply, but uncovers enough to pique the interest if, like me, you admired the songs and knew little of the man. If you’re a Nilsson aficionado, you might not get a lot from this film. I did get a lot from it. I didn’t know John Lennon and Paul McCartney both listed Harry Nilsson as their favorite musician. I didn’t know he was Ringo Starr’s best friend and the two served as best man for each other. Unfortunately, Starr does not appear in this film. Apparently, he was still saddened by Nilsson’s tragic death in 1994, at the age of 52, and found it too difficult to talk about.

Fanboys

Harry Nilsson burst on the scene in the late 60s, made some lovely albums, and partied way too hard with the usual suspects. Robin Williams is on this bio too. I feel like he hung out at the Chateau Marmont for about 26 years waiting for someone to pull out some coke. Anyway, Nilsson made pretty music, did too many drugs, smoked and drank too much, and redeemed himself later in life. He met a pretty, Irish woman, made lots of babies, and relished his family.

Harry with third wife, Una

It’s too bad that once he had his shit together, he had to die. It’s like his life was subject to Hayes office motion picture rules and after his early carrying-on, they just couldn’t let him live happily ever after.

John Lennon, Anne Murray, Harry Nilsson, Alice Cooper, and Mickey Dolenz

I recommend this film if you want to learn more about the 70s music scene, fashion for people who don’t have day jobs, or about Harry Nilsson’s sweet, melodic music.

Here’s the link to the See Hear Podcast: Harry Nilsson episode. Thank you, Maurice Bursztynski, Bernard Stickwell, and Tim Merrill for inviting me on your show and for the lovely, literate, and friendly conversation.

“It’s hard to beat a derelict mental institution used in Dr. Mengele-like medical experiments for pure heart-warming joy.”
-Some guy in a straitjacket

The crew of a Ghost Hunters-esque TV show led by Lance Preston (Sean Rogerson) lock themselves into an abandoned mental hospital in Maryland to look for spooks. Will they find any? Three guesses.

He seems overly cheery about this.

Lance and his team, Sasha (Ashleigh Gryzko), Matt (Juan Riedinger), and T.C. (Merwin Mondesir) investigate paranormal activity. They look for legends and local rumors about long-abandoned abattoirs, orphanages, and schools and, armed with their Scooby-Doo starter kit—Geiger counter, ectoplasm detector, special hand-held tape recorder that picks up ghost chat, a metric shit-ton of cameras, and crappy walkie-talkies, our valiant ghost spotters, hunt for things that go bump in the night.

Pose away, Matt.

The foursome and their resident mystic, Houston (Mackenzie Gray), who looks like the middle-aged love child of Eric Roberts, Robert Davi, and Willem Dafoe, get a tour of the facility from the caretaker, Ken (Bob Rathie) complete with descriptions of the horrific treatment of the former inmates, the experimental surgeries performed, and the ghastly suicides of the poor tortured souls. Every new horror has the crew licking their lips and seeing ratings nirvana.

“Eat your heart out, Zak Bagans.”

To add to the general eeriness, Lance has Ken lock them into the asylum all night and promise to return in the morning. Great plan, Lance. Matt sets up the stationary cameras and they head out with a hand-held one to prowl the long hallways in search of spirits. At first, their trip is uneventful, but they persevere, consulting with Houston and checking the readings on their ghost gizmos. When the team are manhandled by invisible forces, they decide to pack it in and wait for Ken. Unfortunately, Ken doesn’t show and they’re stuck in a creepy insane asylum with a bunch of spooks.

Cozy

Directors, Colin Minihan and Stuart Ortiz (The Vicious Brothers), establish the appropriately sinister atmosphere early on. The dark hallways are full of doors, each leading to another filthy room bedecked in peeling paint, graffiti, and disused wheelchairs. Through subtle exposition we learn the team know little more than the terminology used in paranormal, um, science and that Houston is merely playing a part. There are quite a few jump scares and the found footage aspect comes off naturally.

“A little paint, a few throw pillows…it can work.”

I liked Grave Encounters. I’m not usually a huge fan of shaky-cam cinematography, but they pulled it off here. The cast of actors were new to me and did an effective job of making me like them and not want them to die horribly. They were also not soul-crushingly stupid. As the film progressed and emotions took over, they made some less-than-stellar decisions, but they were running away from disembodied asylum inmates with grudges, so they sort of have an excuse.

“Take your stinkin’ paws off me, you damn dirty inmates!”

I do wish these nutty ‘let’s stay overnight in the labyrinthine haunted house where police found 68 bodies skewered to the fenced-in part of the back garden’ folks would change it up just a bit. First, DRAW A FUCKING MAP! You’re in a place you’ve never seen before with a vast system of identical halls, empty rooms, staircases that go nowhere, and ghosts and it’s as dark as a coal mine at midnight. Leave a trail of breadcrumbs or something. Mark up the walls. Come on, guys, think! Second, bring a weapon. Carry a bat, a Maglite, a pointed stick, or some damn thing, and don’t, DO NOT drop the knife, bottle, or curtain rod the second after you use it to poke the evil spectral presence in the eye. You might need it again later.

Correct.

The main issue I have with Grave Encounters is the prologue. In the beginning of the film, a TV executive sitting in a production booth gives us a completely unnecessary introduction to the crew’s adventure. We don’t need it. The conversation among the protagonists explains it all without the tacked-on looking start, but the segment would make sense if it were bookended by an epilogue at the end. The abrupt ending with no explanation was unsatisfying. I get that some filmmakers want to withhold closure to amp up the sense of unease, or leave room for the sequel, but it left me with the same feeling I get when I get distracted and all the water drains out of the tub. Either do a scene at both ends or, if you must choose, do one at the end explaining how you got the film. Did kids, using the hospital as a place to party, find the equipment, watch the tapes, and turn them over to the police? Did criminals run across the pricey-looking stuff while dividing their loot after a hold-up, pawn it, get busted, and lead authorities back to the asylum? Did an apparition drop it off in the TV station mail slot? Enquiring minds want to know.

“It was not delivered by the US Postal Service. I can tell you that.”

Grave Encounters was entertaining and scary. It did its job.

When a film starts with a topless porn star crashing her car into a house to the tune of the Temptations song Papa Was a Rolling Stone, it sets a tone you hope the characters and plot can keep up with. Fortunately, The Nice Guys keeps up the irreverent mood and fast and unexpected pace.

“Look up! Is that Dave Chappelle?”

Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe) and Holland March (Ryan Gosling) are both hired, separately, to look for and protect a young woman. Healy is a hired goon who beats people up for a living and March is a mercenary private detective who drinks so much he has his thirteen-year-old daughter drive him around. They start out as adversaries, but end up teaming up to solve the complicated case.

“It says here, Colonel Mustard, in the drawing room, with a candlestick.”

Set in 1970s Los Angeles, The Nice Guys deals with the porn industry, car makers, the Department of Justice, and even President Nixon. It even has a big bee. Despite the kitchen sink approach to plot, the film moves along and holds your interest thanks to its three leads.

Two out of the three leads and a big bee.

I get a big kick out of this film. Healy and March are cool characters that don’t fit into the standard private detective mold. Healy knows he’s a thug-for-hire, but you can tell he has a cool backstory and Crowe gives him some charm and even a little depth. March and his daughter, Holly, played by the talented and appealing Angourie Rice, have a sweet relationship. In some ways, she’s more mature than her dad, but the film never goes full Paper Moon and Gosling has some nice moments. I wish we got to know them all better, but the film places its emphasis on its overly intricate plot. Don’t get me wrong. The Nice Guys is entertaining, but I would have preferred a little more character development.

“There’s no sequel?”

The dialogue and performances in The Nice Guys are what make it work. Keith David’s henchman has a natural world-weariness and Lois Smith is always a pleasure to see. Matt Bomer must have enjoyed making this film too. He has a fun part with a few terrific lines. Gosling makes a potentially goofy character seem human and real. Crowe is the one we really want to learn more about. He’s a tough guy who lives above a comedy club and has a word-a-day calendar. I’m curious about how he got there.

“Lugubrious.”

Ryan Gosling has some winner lines too. In describing how bad Lois Smith’s eyesight is, he says, “She has actual Coke bottles for glasses. You paint a mustache on a Volkswagen and she says, boy, that Omar Sharif sure runs fast.” Good stuff.

“It’s 9am somewhere.”

Shane Black directed The Nice Guys based on a script he wrote with Anthony Bagarozzi. The plot and characters have a Get Shorty meets The Long Goodbye vibe with a little Pulp Fiction philosophizing thrown in. That’s not a bad thing.

“Royale with cheese.”

The best thing aside from the performances of Gosling and Crowe is the teaming of Gosling and Crowe. Seriously, I could watch a lot more of this duo—and these two characters. The Nice Guys is a fun movie.

“Say what again!”

When Quint says, “Cage goes in the water, you go in the water. Shark’s in the water. Our shark.”, he probably means salt water, since that’s where sharks live.

“Farewell and adieu…”

Not so fast, bub!

When an evil oil company uses fracking to find oil, they open the floodgates and let stealth sharks into the Arkansas bayou. Since the sharks’ new feeding ground is miles from any major population centers, you might think, “Hey, what’s the harm?”

“We’re coming to get you, Bubba.”

Sharks don’t live in a vacuum. Remember I said that.

While the muscle-bound predators cruise the spillways looking for lunch, folks at a nearby women’s prison send a few inmates on a field trip.

“This prison issue is so confining.”

Two guards accompany a van full of female prisoners to a work detail near the swamp. Dressed in ridiculously tight shorts and tank tops from the Desperate Spring Breakers collection, the women get to work pretending to dig things as an excuse to bend over provocatively. After the obligatory cleavage and pouring water on their chests sequence, the real fun begins. Inmates separate from the pack and soon everyone’s tripping over body parts in the woods.

“Hey, anybody lose something?”

At the same time, Detective Kendra Patterson (Traci Lords) and her partner, Detective Adam (I know.) (Corey Landis) follow the trail of a crew of robbers that leads them to the same remote area. They find some bones and some stolen money and apparently lose interest because they go out for tacos and never mention the case again.

“Case closed.”

Just when you think two plot lines are enough, director Jim Wynorski of Chopping Mall fame, adds a third. As guards and prisoners head back to jail, Anita’s (Cindy Lucas) girlfriend hijacks the van and takes them all hostage.

“Going my way?”

Honey (Dominique Swain), the kidnapper, drives her charges to a double-wide in the woods where they’ll all spend a few days changing clothes, eating peaches and beans, and lounging in the hot tub. Ah, paradise.

Just another day in stir.

There’s some infighting and general nastiness and then, a geologist and his cute, young assistant show up. They all realize they must band together or die at the hands fins of the weird, burrowing sharks. Oh, did I forget to mention that? The sharks not only thrive in the brackish and unsalted water of the swamp, but also plow through the earth in their quest for blood. No, really. The spiky-headed monsters muscle their way through the ground and make a beeline to their suitably astonished victims.

“Landshark!”

That’s my favorite part. That, and watching the women hightail it away from subterranean killers wearing pants so tight, they can hardly run.

Back to the sharks. The sharks in Sharkansas Women’s Prison Massacre make the graboids from Tremors look like amateurs. Nothing slows these guys down. They move through the earth like a hot knife through butter, pushing rocks and dirt in front of them like a groundhog in a cartoon. They also jump a lot and seem unaffected by automatic weapons.

“You can’t get me!”

They talk and create a diversion and Detectives Patterson and Adam drive around and then the escapees go into a cave and it’s over. Phew!

Cave o’ sharks.

To Wynorski’s credit, the production values are pretty good and the music, by Chuck Cirino, had a nifty James Bond theme sound. The acting, especially by Traci Lords, Corey Landis, and John Callahan, as Carl, the prison guard, was far better than average for these sharktaculars. I was rooting for Carl the whole time.

“Game over, convicts.”

Sharkansas Women’s Prison Massacre entertained me. The effects were cheesetastic, but that’s ok. I liked a couple of the characters and I’m a big fan of Tremors so this film was fun. I mean, the title alone makes it worth the price of admission. I can’t wait for the sequel.

“Look for us again in Shakansas Five: Parole Denied.”

A group of strangers play the worst game of musical chairs ever.

“I hope there’s a goody bag.”

Have you ever watched your favorite game show and hoped for the obnoxious guy to get eliminated? If you have, this film is for you! In Circle, a few dozen purposely average people awaken on the set of a macabre game show and get blown up one by one by an unseen force. In this competition there are no pesky questions to stump the contestants, just some weird Francois Truffaut-like hand jive movements that kill.

“Scary!”

Yeah, not so much.

With a play-like structure and dialogue taken directly from one of those ‘scenes for actors’ books, Circle manages to be both illogical and boring. It’s also unbelievable. Why are these people in this earthbound Carousel and where the hell is Richard Jordan?

“We did it first…with flying.”

What’s especially odd is how quickly the crowd of random stereotypes grasp the inner workings of this quick-killing version of The Weakest Link. After all, it took Truffaut and Bob Balaban half a Spielberg-length film to figure out their six-note code and these guys are not Truffaut and Balaban.

“We’re better than you.”

The Grand Wazoo or whoever runs this sideshow, knocks off a player every 30 seconds or so, but despite the kill count, nothing much happens. People make statements. They accuse and shout and connive like they’re trying out for Survivor. Backstabbing abounds. This part puzzles me. Somehow the dopey stander-arounders figure out (in about a minute) they can gang up on people, zap them, and save themselves. I don’t know how they got that by loitering on lit circles, but that’s me. Then, the movie does that ‘humans are basically horrible’ thing and shows us the ugly side of most of the characters we never get to know anyway so when they die we don’t care. Hooray!

Some people in the film.

I don’t understand films that don’t bother to establish a single character. I get that this isn’t a masterpiece, but someone wrote it…on purpose. I’ll bet Aaron Hann and Mario Miscione, the writing/directing team, had a great idea for this film. They just didn’t let us in on it. I don’t mean to beat these guys up, but Circle is a prime example of an intriguing idea that leads to a movie that goes nowhere. Someone should have said something like, “The circle concept is great, but why are they there? Are you doing a Pirandello/Sartre thing or can’t you think of an ending? Also, why do all the characters sound like they’re auditioning for summer stock?”

“I hope I get it! I hope I get it!”

Maybe it’s not fair to criticize the film this harshly, but it’s not good or the least bit frightening. I try to find positive things to say about most of the films I review, but the only thing that stands out about this film was its shape—round.

“Goodbye.”

“L’enfer, c’est le cercle.”
-Fred Sartre, insurance actuary

Ahhhh here he is.

“Now something so sad has hold of us that the breath leaves and we can’t even cry.”
-Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense

Grief incites people to all sorts of mischief.

People in films kill for a boatload of reasons. They kill for money, love, sex, power, a black bird, a tanker full of gasoline, a witch’s broom, Cornel Wilde, and even a penmanship medal. If you watch horror films, you’re used to watching people, and dogs (please stop) die in creative and horrifying ways. What you’re not used to seeing is the aftermath. Sure, horror sequels often begin with the hero or heroine recovering in a mental ward after an ordeal, but seldom do the filmmakers dwell on the survivor’s feelings. Generally, the protagonist must hot foot it out of the hospital to avoid ending the franchise prematurely. A handful of terrific new horror films and filmmakers break that mold. These artists focus on grief as both a reason to kill, and an actual entity.

The films in this piece portray grief in terms of horror. That makes sense because it’s something scary that no one wants to talk about. Grief gets buried, not unlike a victim in a premature grave, who pops out at the most inopportune times. You think you dug the hole deep enough, but the little bastard manages to crawl out and invade your Christmas by wiping his muddy feet on your carpet, or ruin a perfectly nice dinner party by playing that tune you’re trying so hard to forget.

Grief is also something everyone expresses differently, but is supposed to express the same. Friends study your affect and project their own feelings there. “How can he laugh at a time like this?” Police observe the spouses of murder victims and decide whether they’re reacting correctly. “She’s not even crying. We’d better investigate.” You can also overreact. In the 1946 drama, The Razor’s Edge, Gene Tierney comments on Anne Baxter’s character, Sophie, who’s sunk into despair and drunkenness after the loss of her husband and child in an accident. “Of course, it was a shock and everyone felt sorry for her, but a normal person recovers. If she went to pieces it was because she was always unbalanced.”

With the weight of so much emotion on your shoulders, it’s easy to lose your footing and fall into that newly-opened grave. The best choice is conversation. When the beast is out in the open, he’s easier to fight—or embrace. The players in these films choose different paths and it’s enlightening to see how those choices affect them.

In The Babadook (2014), writer/director Jennifer Kent creates a frighteningly claustrophobic world for her heroine. Amelia (Essie Davis), a lonely widow with a troubled young son, struggles to get through each day. Once, a vivacious writer in love with her musician husband, Amelia now simply goes through the motions of living. She works as an attendant at a nursing home and tries to care for her incredibly high-maintenance son. Aside from his behavior issues, her boy, Samuel (Noah Wiseman) has terrible nightmares so, of course, his mom gets no sleep. Samuel is such a handful, no one else will watch him, so Amelia is on the hook 24/7. Everything is a chore and she gets no peace. As if loneliness, drudgery, and lack of sleep weren’t enough, Amelia also battles depression and a sort of delayed grief. Her husband died on the day their son was born so she’s been too busy to grieve properly. After six years of this, her embattled psyche has had enough. A scary pop-up book, The Babadook, appears mysteriously in her house and the book’s protagonist, a combination of Dr. Caligari and Danny DeVito’s Penguin, begins to haunt Amelia and Samuel’s dreams and maybe even their reality.

The Invitation (2015) begins when Will (Logan Marshall-Green) accepts an invitation to a dinner party hosted by his ex-wife and her new husband in Will’s old house. Soooo many red flags there. Anyway, he and his new girlfriend, Kira (Emayatzy Corinealdi), along with the estranged couple’s old friends get together for a party complete with a gourmet supper, vintage wine, and weird oversharing. Throughout the course of the evening, we discover that Will and his ex, Eden (Tammy Blanchard), lost their young son a year or so ago. Eden tried to come to grips with her grief at a questionable retreat in Mexico where she met her present husband, David (Michael Huisman), who was there to deal with a loss of his own.

The strange, incredibly tense vibe of the film is punctuated by the cringe-worthy stories the guests tell and Will’s occasional outburst questioning the goal of the evening. Director, Karyn Kusama does a phenomenal job of keeping you on the edge of your seat as Will vacillates between enjoying the lamb and suspecting the rest of the party-goers.

The cast of lesser-known character actors works together well and includes the fabulously creepy John Carroll Lynch (Twisty!) as the guy you who you wish had RSVP’d in the negative. Despite the Jonathan Swift-levels of overcompensating for grief Eden and David learned at their slice of Spahn Ranch in the Mexican desert, The Invitation is a subtle, taut film that builds steadily toward a frightening end and dramatizes the lengths to which some people will go to avoid feeling that horrible ache.

Prevenge (2016) stars the most excellent Alice Lowe as Ruth, a very pregnant widow whose anger and grief mixed with a dash of hormones and a smidge of her already manic nature allow her to hear the voice of her unborn daughter. That sounds lovely. There’s just one thing; Ruth’s daughter is a sociopath who orders her to kill the people both blame for the death of Ruth’s husband.

Like Look Who’s Talking meets Kind Hearts and Coronets, Prevenge follows Ruth as she assumes different identities to get close to her victims. At first, she’s energized by her mission, but later comes to question its value when she realizes all her efforts won’t change anything. Her husband is still gone. That sad fact looms in the background all through this darkly funny film. That Lowe manages to make her character funny, vulnerable, and a bit mad is evidence of her talent as an actress and a writer and a director. Yes, she did all three — while pregnant. As in The Babadook, Ruth’s longing for her husband and her inability to cope with those strong, soul-crushing emotions create an autonomous life form. In Prevenge, that being’s sole purpose is revenge.

The Void (2016) mixes a story of grief with the supernatural, a weird death cult, and a siege, to create an original and referential horror film. Made by the same Astron-6 group that brought us The Editor and Manborg, The Void mixes Assault on Precinct 13, The Thing, The Devil Rides Out, and Don’t Look Now and sprinkles it with a bit of The Mist. The fact that The Void pulls from all these films doesn’t lessen its impact in the slightest. It’s a terrific, edge-of-your-seat horror full of practical effects, characters you care about, and great scares.

A small group of people defend a rural hospital against forces, both inside and out, they don’t understand. At the heart of the film is an estranged couple, played by Aaron Poole and Kathleen Munroe, who broke up after the loss of their baby. The ideas of loss and regret run through the film and it’s a testament to the filmmakers, Jeremy Gillespie and Steven Kostanski, that they could make a poignant character study within their cracking good horror film.

Sometimes making it through a crisis is the easy part. All that fighting and strategizing and looking for weapons fills your brain so there’s no room for dread. There’s a famous phrase, “Dying is easy; comedy is hard.” Perhaps it should read, “Dying is easy; surviving is hard.” It is hard, but it’s good. You just have to keep telling yourself that.

 

Recently, I joined a sold-out crowd at the Charles River Museum of Industry & Innovation in Waltham, Massachusetts for Waltham Film Factory’s showing of the documentary, Voices from the Basement. The museum, filled with antique typewriters, vintage lathes, and classic cars, is the perfect setting for this look at what was the hub of the bargain universe for decades, Filene’s Basement. It seemed right to watch a film about the former retail giant in a former textile factory.  The film, a tribute to the retailer, tells the story of a place that became a landmark and even a way of life for throngs of Bostonians. Filled with historic footage from the Downtown Crossing shop, the film chronicles the opening of the Basement in 1908 to its closing in 2007 and is a fascinating look at retail history and Edward Filene’s radical corporate philosophy.

Filene’s original Downtown Crossing, Boston location

Edward Filene, the son of founder William Filene, opened Filene’s Automatic Bargain Basement in 1908 as a way to sell overstocked merchandise from his father’s main store in the unused basement. As the store gained popularity, buyers began purchasing high quality goods from other large department stores from all over the country and marking it way down for quick sale. That meant the stock was always fresh and consumers could buy designer goods at a fraction of the original prices.

A packed house in search of inexpensive, but not cheap suits

The automatic part came from the method of automatically marking down merchandise according to a fixed schedule. Filene had other new ideas too. He wanted to keep his employees healthy, so he opened a clinic across the street from the Downtown Crossing location. Sick workers could receive company-sponsored medical care years before any other business owners even considered it. Basement employees ran a store newsletter and the Filene’s Coop Association allowed workers to voice their opinions on store policy. Filene also started a credit union for his employees. This business-as-social-experiment also encouraged employees to stay on for fifty years or more. People started in the stockroom and worked their way up to the sales floor. Employees were fiercely loyal to the company.

A poster depicting the schedule of markdowns

The concept that hard work and ability led to promotion added to the store’s reputation as an egalitarian business. The wide range of shoppers cemented it. Everyone shopped there. The Boston Brahmin browsed next to waitresses, moms, and students.

Bargain hunters sift through the bins.

If you were a savvy shopper, you frequented Filene’s Basement. If you were a female savvy shopper, you got used to changing in the middle of the sales floor. Another of the idiosyncrasies of Filene’s Basement was the lack of dressing rooms for women. I can remember going to the store as a child. My mom would grab wraparound skirts in a larger size for us. We’d put them on over our clothes so we could try on pants and skirts under them without exposing ourselves. Brides-to-be grabbed deals during the yearly Running of the Brides event. There’s a funny edit during that part of the film that shows footage of the Running of the Brides cut with scenes from the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. Celebrities like Boston Mayor Tom Menino, actress, Estelle Parsons, reporter, Mike Wallace, Governor Mike Dukakis, and Boston broadcasters, Peter Mehegan and Carl DeSuze wax rhapsodic about the virtues of Filene’s Basement. They’re not the only ones. Voices from the Basement features longtime employees as well; many expressing their love and gratitude to managers and staff members who cared about their customers and each other.

Filene’s clock on Washington Street, Boston

After the film, director, Michael Bavaro and executive producer, Dr. Susan Edbril answered questions and listened to audience stories about their memories of the iconic hole in the ground. There were some great ones. A former marketing executive with Filene’s Basement recounted that once, when she was working, the fire alarm sounded, but no one would leave. They didn’t want to lose the bargains they’d found. Seeing this fun piece of Boston history in such a historic place was a lovely experience.

The Charles River Museum of Industry & Innovation and the Waltham Film Factory will screen the film Voices from the Basement again on Wednesday, March 1. Tickets are on sale here.

In the vast wasteland of Australia’s post-apocalyptic desert, a powerful warrior liberates a harem from a water-hoarding despot with the help of a tortured nomad.

Yep. That’s it. I could probably end my piece right here, but I’ll go a bit deeper.

Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron) leads the ground troops defending the empire of Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). She heads out into the sprawling desert with a raiding party, but instead of collecting slaves or heads or gasoline, Furiosa goes astray and it’s apparent that she has another agenda. She has Joe’s wives secreted away in the cab of her fortified semi and is on her way to the Green Place, an oasis Furiosa knew as a child. The women, abducted from other tribes, served as breeders and sex slaves for the evil Immortan Joe in his mountain cave hideout. Joe holds his power over the people below with force and by controlling the most important resource, water.

Not one drop of water on Arrak…no.

Immortan Joe and his merry band of genetic misfits discover Furiosa’s betrayal and before you can say “two men enter; one man leaves” they’re gamboling through the outback in a charming array of motor vehicles hoping to convince Furiosa and her charges to return. With a crew of war boys in mime makeup chasing her and gangs of motorcycle-straddling sand people hiding behind every rock, Furiosa needs all of her ingenuity and strength, along with a humongous cache of firearms, to repel the crazed hordes from her tanker truck and bring her charges to safety.

“Did you say Humongous?”

Will she make it through the gauntlet without losing the rescued women? Will she get to the Green Space? Will this guy learn another tune?

Freebird again?

There’s also Max. Did I mention Max? He’s in this too. Good old Max Rockatansky (Tom Hardy), whose name and demeanor bursts from the imagination of a frustrated teenage motorhead, begins this adventure as a captive of the war boy, Nux (Nicholas Hoult). Nux gets off with a little help from silver spray paint applied to his teeth. Apparently, the weird, powder-coated Immortan Joe devotees need a constant supply of new blood, so they capture vulnerable wanderers to use as permanent blood donors. Max is strapped to Nux’s car and hooked-up to an IV to keep him in hemoglobin.

“CALL MY AGENT!”

Max and Furiosa don’t hit it off right away. They try to kill each other until they realize their interests are better served by teaming up against the nutjob biker gang. That’s when it gets fun. Since this is a George Miller production, it’s chock full of nitrous-powered hot rods brimming with mutants with anger issues and massive car wrecks. Since I’m a fan of those, I found Mad Max: Fury Road entertaining. I’ve always loved the Mad Max franchise and hoped this would not be an exception. It isn’t. The Road Warrior/Handmaid’s Tale mashup worked and the action, for the most part, did not disappoint. I love Furiosa’s tricked-out truck cab. Her impressive armory makes sense and speaks to her strong warrior character. I also love the stilty flingy guys during the main chase sequence. In my notes, I call them pole vault warriors. That works too.

Hieronymus Bosch, cinematographer.

I wish I could say the film crushed it all the way through, but I found the first desert chase scene lacking. I think the stunt coordinator had a wardrobe malfunction because his CGI showed. It also looked like they sped it up for some reason. It was early in the film and we didn’t know the characters yet. That lack of involvement with the story coupled with the Benny Hill-like speed increase made the segment hard to watch. I have no qualms with the later stunts though. They quenched my Mad Max thirst.

“Say what again.”

A few character actors stood out in Fury Road. Nicholas Hoult as Nux adds a nice dimension to the film. He starts as your average war boy, but spends a good deal of the film trying to redeem himself. Since the whole Mad Max series deals with redemption, Nux fits. Riley Keough as Capable has an expressive and sympathetic face. She comes by it naturally. Elvis Presley is/was her grandfather. She says a lot without too much dialogue. Zoë Kravitz has a small, decent role, but doesn’t have much to do. Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, as Joe’s favorite wife, The Splendid Angharad, has a nice supporting part as the leader of the harem who sets the example for toughness among the wives. As for the bad guys, Immortan Joe lacks the verve of a Toecutter, which is odd because he played that part in the original Mad Max film. John Howard and Richard Carter play The People Eater and The Bullet Farmer and I wish they had more screen time. They have Baron Harkonnen-levels of disfigurement. Miller comes up with great baddies, then he refuses to let us see them. He also makes up great names!

Toecutter and Immortan Joe: Together Again!

Charlize Theron as Furiosa and Tom Hardy as Max deliver. Theron looks hard and smart and fierce as a war-weary soldier who wants to go home. Hardy lets his guard down with Theron and they show great chemistry. It isn’t a romance. It’s two wounded souls recognizing each other. As soon as they realize how alike they are, Max has her back and Furiosa has his. It’s a loyalty based on loss and it works.

Mad Max: Fury Road is a terrific action film and I’m glad I finally saw it.

It’s Australia month here at Prowler Needs a Jump so get out your boomerangs!

Desmond.

Six 12-year-old girls we hate gather at a friend’s house in Greenwich, Connecticut for a sleepover.  One by one, they separate and a slasher preys on them.  I don’t often wish for the deaths of middle schoolers and their parents, but in the case of #HORROR, I’ll make an exception.

“We’re awful.”

As the girls bully and browbeat each other, we like them even less.  I started out hating them so you can imagine how I felt after an hour and a half.  They’re so nasty.  They say things like “You look like a fat tranny.” and “Your mom slept with Hitler.” and “Kill yourself.”  It’s super fun.

Fun.

The girls peel off from the group, as girls do in slasher films.  It doesn’t go well for them.

“Do I get a goody bag?”

The # part?  Oh, you see, when the girls post horrid pictures of each other online and tag them with cruel epithets, the film changes.  Weird, cartoony images, emojis, and goofy phrases appear onscreen like a bad digital pinball game.  The colorful, puffy typeface lets you know you’re watching quality.  No, really.  It looks as though the filmmakers watched SPRINGBREAKERS fifty-seven times in a row and decided to reproduce that film’s crappy, repetitive mantra graphically.  It’s like a widescreen version of Candy Crush, but with cruelty.  After thirty seconds, my eyes started bleeding.

Subtle.

So, horrible girls die, but not too horribly.  I mean, I have seen bad films redeem themselves with terrific kills.  This isn’t one of those films.  There’s screaming and cameraman-tripped-on-his-shoelace cam and blood, but who cares?  The kids are awful and there’s a hinted-at backstory no one sees fit to tell us and a whole lot of bad parenting.  Also, there’s terrible art.  The party/killing spree all happens at a huge, modern house in the Connecticut woods.  If that sounds idyllic, think again.  As the girls die, their screams echo through the sterile rooms, bounce off the crappy art, and fade to nothing somewhere near the vodka Mom pours on her cornflakes.

“Why is the yolk pulsating?”

I forgot to mention the parents in this Bataan Death March of a movie.  There are real actors in this.  Chloë Sevigny, Timothy Hutton, and Natasha Lyonne all show up.  Lyonne has about twelve seconds of screen time, but Hutton has eons to chew the scenery and Sevigny looks a little dazed.  She does play an alcoholic though.  I must say, I liked her part the best.  I love the idea of a selfish mom leaving six 12-year-olds in her home alone, pouring a vodka tonic, and drinking it on the way to her AA meeting.  Ballsy.

“I think my scarf knows what I’m thinking.”

I won’t spoil it for you by telling you the ending.  The point is that it ends and that’s a good thing.

A couple points:

Early in the film, Chloë Sevigny chats with a friend in her house.  An assistant, Molly, has a few lines.  Later, Sevigny goes out, leaving the girls alone.  Where the hell is Molly?  She never comes back and no one mentions her again.  She’s a plot device to show how rude Sevigny is to her servant, but they didn’t bother to give her an exit.  Oops!  I forgot one of my characters again!

Timothy Hutton, Chloë Sevigny, and Natasha Lyonne can act.  Hutton has a Oscar and a gang of nominations.  Sevigny has some critics’ awards and an Oscar nom.  Lyonne has won critics’ awards and an Emmy nomination.  What are they doing in this certified wedge of Gouda?  Did they lose a bet?  Are there pictures somewhere of them kicking midgets or something?  I can’t think of any other reason for them to be in this mess.  That mystery will stay with me longer than the film.  Do yourself a favor.  Watch ROAD HOUSE.  It’s probably still on Netflix.

1/5 Duckfaces.

 

 

Sentenced to house arrest after getting in trouble…again, Kylie Bucknell (Morgana O’Reilly) returns to her childhood home in rural New Zealand to spend the next eight months at home with her mom and step-dad.  Kylie’s a bit miffed about this and takes it out on her mother, Miriam (Rima Te Wiata).  She sits around drinking all day and makes a mess for her mother to clean up.  She resists counseling and is generally obnoxious.  She won’t even let her mom watch Coronation Street.

Kylie says darn a lot.

Soon after her arrival, Kylie starts hearing things and gets the feeling she’s being watched.  After talking to her mom she learns that she too has been hearing things for years.  Their neighbor, Amos (Glen-Paul Waru), who is also the technician who fitted Kylie with her surveillance anklet, believes in the paranormal and begins to monitor the house.  Kylie discovers her home once served as a halfway house for kids with psychological issues and that one of them was stabbed sixty-seven times with a carving fork.  Now, she has something to think about.  She and Amos think the spirit haunting the house belongs to the murdered girl.  Kylie finds a cache of souvenirs under a floorboard.  She also finds dentures.  After reading old newspaper accounts of the crime, they learn the girl was bitten.  Could the murderer have lost dentures while biting the child?  Armed with this theory, Kylie and Amos come up with a possible killer.  The two amateur sleuths launch an investigation with a lot of twists.

Director, Gerard Johnstone does a nifty job pulling you in different directions.  As soon as you think you know the answer, he changes the question.  Johnstone wrote the story as well and filled it with fun dialogue and tense situations.  When Kylie says her method of dealing with a ghost is a punch to the face, Amos counters with, “You don’t punch ectoplasm.”  Fun stuff.

“I ate Ted for lunch.”

The soundtrack by Mahuia Bridgman-Cooper has a quirky feel during quieter moments, but builds rhythmically, pounding faster as the tension mounts.

HOUSEBOUND keeps you guessing and entertained.  I like it a lot.  Because of the surprises and twists, I’ll stop now before I give the game away.  The film is a happy surprise full of flawed and interesting characters.  Kylie is a strong woman who comes off as a real jerk at the start, but she doesn’t take any crap and that’s fun to watch.  I hope Gerard Johnstone writes another film soon.

Hey, Boo.