Author: thehorsesheadblog

#174) Magical Maestro (1952)

OR “All My Hexes Are From Tex’s”

Directed by Tex Avery

Written by Rich Hogan

Class of 1993

The Plot: Moments before he is set to perform a concert, opera singer The Great Poochini (as “played” by Butch, voiced by Carlos Julio Ramirez) is solicited by a magician named Mysto (voiced by Daws Butler), who wants to perform his act as Poochini’s opener. After being sharply rejected, Mysto switches places with the conductor, and uses his magic wand to conduct the show/torment and humiliate Poochini. What follows is every gag Tex Avery can throw into a 6 ½ minute short.

Why It Matters: The NFR praises Tex Avery’s “wry sense of humor and sarcasm” (traits I routinely receive “concerns” for), and include an essay by Thad Komorowski, an animation expert who wrote an unauthorized history of “Ren & Stimpy”. Yeah, he’s definitely qualified to discuss Tex Avery.

But Does It Really?: A Tex Avery short absolutely deserves to be on the Registry, and “Magical Maestro” is an obvious choice. The problem with a lot of Tex Avery’s stuff is that so much of his humor (like many other animators of the time) relies on stereotypes, racial and otherwise. While still presented in a relentless parade of jokes and sight gags, your laughter is now mixed with the occasional cringe. We’ll get to some of the specifics later, but this short still has plenty of laugh-out-loud moments to smooth over its increasingly rough edges. Tex Avery is a giant in the field of animation and to overlook his work would be criminal, regardless of the occasional political incorrectness.

Shout Outs: When dressed like Carmen Miranda, Poochini sings “Mamãe Eu Quero”, just like the real Miranda did in “Down Argentine Way”.

Everybody Gets One: Frederick “Tex” Avery moved from his native Texas (natch) to Los Angeles in 1928 with the hopes of being a newspaper cartoonist. His drawing skills led to jobs with pretty much every animation studio in the ‘30s. His time at Warner Bros. was notable for the creation of Looney Tunes (it was Avery who allowed Bugs Bunny to pose the immortal question, “What’s up, doc?”). An offer to direct his own shorts at MGM was too good to pass up, and it was here that Avery did his best-known work, despite his constant clashing with department head Fred Quimby. It was worth the trouble, because this is Fred’s only NFR appearance too.

Wow, That’s Dated: Among Poochini’s transformations throughout the short are a Chinese coolie and a blackface performer: or, as I describe them in my notes, “Ohhhhhhhh god” and “Hnnnngggghhh”.

Seriously, Oscars?: This is more of a “Seriously, Fred Quimby?” Tex Avery did some revolutionary animation under Quimby’s direction at MGM, but Quimby always favored the “Tom & Jerry” shorts by William Hanna & Joseph Barbera when it came to Oscar submissions. Hanna & Barbera’s “Johann Mouse” won Animated Short in 1952, while “Magical Maestro” wasn’t even nominated. That year did see, however, a nomination for a Tex Avery short: the more conventional “Little Johnny Jet”. This and 1942’s “Blitz Wolf” are the only Tex Avery shorts nominated for Oscars.

Other notes

• Sorry Tex, but that MGM intro has conditioned me to think that a “Tom & Jerry” short is starting.
• It’s not a cartoon opera without “Largo al Factotum”.
• The conductor featured in the short is allegedly a caricature of MGM animation composer Scott Bradley. The story goes he and Tex didn’t get along too well.
• This seems like a particularly odd time to pitch your magic act. And why to an opera singer who’s headlining? Did classical music typically have magicians as their opener?
• Oh crap, I forgot about the Native American regalia in this. So much cultural appropriation. Can’t we just pretend he turned into one of the Village People?
• Readers, I give you the finest “hair in the gate” joke in any film.
• Not that it matters, but Poochini is technically doing an impression of Bill Kenny from the Ink Spots. I am fully aware this information does not help the situation at all.
• And now the Hawaiian War Chant? I give up. You defend your own jokes, Tex!
• This guy’s magic wand seems real easy to use. Just flick and it does whatever. You don’t even need to shout one of those Harry Potter faux-Latin commands.

Legacy

• “Magical Maestro” represents Tex Avery at the end of his MGM years (and his apex). He suffered a nervous breakdown during production of this short, took a yearlong sabbatical, and returned only to be laid off in 1953.
• Any anarchy within animation can be traced back to Tex Avery. From the aforementioned “Ren & Stimpy” and “Animaniacs” to whatever the hell the kids are watching these days.

• Tex Avery may be the only animator whose catalog warranted its own TV show. “The Tex Avery Show” played on Cartoon Network for most of the late ’90s.

• I feel like the Pixar short “Presto” definitely got its inspiration from “Magical Maestro”

Further Viewing: I submitted “Red Hot Riding Hood” to the NFR last year and I’m still waiting. Like “Magical Maestro”, its dated humor can be a bit problematic, but if there’s enough room on the NFR for all those Disney cartoons then surely another Tex Avery short can make the cut.

#173) Within Our Gates (1920)

OR “Don’t Fence Me In”

Directed & Written by Oscar Micheaux

Class of 1992

The Plot: Sylvia Landry (Evelyn Preer) is visiting Boston to raise funds for a school in the south for black children. The white community is divided by the request, and the school’s future is in jeopardy. Along the way, Sylvia finds herself cautiously attracted to Dr. Vivian (Charles D. Lucas), despite having just been jilted by her fiancé Conrad (James D. Ruffin) due to a misunderstanding orchestrated by her cousin Alma (Floy Clements). When Dr. Vivian fails at wooing Sylvia, Alma tells him of Sylvia’s upbringing on a farm, where her father (William Starks) was accused of murdering the town’s most powerful white man (Ralph Johnson). There’s a complex look at African-American life in the 1920s, and a criminal named Larry (Jack Chenault) who’s around for some reason.

Why It Matters: The NFR hails the film as “groundbreaking” and that the movie “effectively confronted racism head on”.

But Does It Really?: “Within Our Gates” is the earliest surviving film to be directed by an African-American. This alone would warrant historical inclusion on the list, but “Within Our Gates” is still an artistic triumph almost 100 years later. There’s some padding here and there and the standard rudimentary style of silent films, but ultimately I cared about Sylvia and her struggles. The film is an honest, unflinching look at how we treated African-Americans during the Jim Crow era, and it serves as a powerful counterpoint to the other, more-stereotypical depictions of African-Americans in white films of the time. “Within Our Gates” is a powerful reminder of how far we’ve come as a nation, and what filmmaking from different voices can accomplish.

Everybody Gets One: Oscar Micheaux was born on a farm in Metropolis, Illinois in 1884, the son of a former slave. His parents’ attempts to send Oscar to a good school were thwarted by their financial struggles. After becoming a successful homesteader and businessman, and losing all of it when his first wife wiped his account clean, he started writing semi-autobiographical novels. His work focused on African-American life in the Jim Crow era and the possibility of a better life. When studios tried to adapt his work for film, he decided to do it himself, becoming the first African-American to write, direct, and produce his own films.

Shout Outs: The film’s title comes from an intertitle in “The Birth of a Nation” stating that blacks must stay “within their gates”. Many historians have claimed that “Within Our Gates” is a direct rebuttal to “The Birth of a Nation”. The NFR seemed to think so; they selected both films for the list in 1992, forever linking them together.

Other notes

• Most prints begin with a note from the Library of Congress describing the film’s restoration process, including having to recreate the title cards completely from scratch, using cards from a Spanish print, and educated guesses on Micheaux’s prose.
• Evelyn Preer is credited as “the renowned Negro artist”. Phrasing aside, she was already a well-known singer and stage performer in the 1910s, and had made her film debut in Micheaux’s first film -1919’s “The Homesteader” – earning her the title “The First Lady of the Screen” in the black community.
• Two minutes in and I already need a flowchart. So many characters and relationships to keep track of!
• No offense, but James D. Ruffin is not much of an actor. Even by silent movie standards he’s a bit overdramatic.
• Larry starts coughing and sweating as soon as the detective shows up. He’s not very good at this whole “wanted criminal” thing.
• Good thing this film is almost 100 years old and we don’t have to worry about black voting rights being revoked nowadays, right everyone? …Dear god, what is wrong with us?
• $5000 in 1920 is equivalent to about $61,000 today. If this were any other movie, there would be a talent show Sylvia could enter where the grand prize is $5000.
• Groundbreaking in its production, unique in its storytelling, and it passes the Bechdel test in several scenes! This film is racking up points left and right!
• The actor playing the Reverend is clearly having fun milking it for the camera.
• And now Larry’s sneaking around in broad daylight? You are the worst at this. Get it together, Larry!
• I’m enjoying this film’s pre-“Rashomon” technique of recounting events from different points of view. I found another title card they can use.

• The lynching scenes are tough to watch, but that’s the point. These scenes were a wakeup call to progressive whites of the day (what we would call “woke” now) that this was still happening in our country. These sequences were so controversial in their day some theaters either cut them entirely, or refused to screen the film at all.
• The film ends with Dr. Vivian telling Sylvia to be proud of her heritage, citing the recent work done by African-Americans in the Second Occupation of Cuba from 1906-1909 and in the Battle of Carrizal in 1916. Michaeux’s work often showed the brutal reality of African-American living, but he always ended with hope.
• There is still a lot to unpack with this film, and a 1000 word write-up only scratches the surface. There’s a lot of great essays out there about “Within Our Gates” that are worth your time. I’ll get you started with this piece from the American Historical Association.

Legacy

• Oscar Micheaux continued to make films for 25 years, though none were as successful as “Within Our Gates”. He died in 1951, and is buried by a gravestone reading “A man ahead of his time”.

• Michaeux has received many posthumous honors over the years, including tributes from the Directors Guild of America and the Producers Guild of America.
• We’re making very slow progress, but at long last black filmmakers have become a little more commonplace in mainstream Hollywood. At the time of this writing, we’ve seen the release of “Black Panther” by Ryan Coogler, and the upcoming “A Wrinkle in Time” by Ava DuVernay (the first African-American woman to direct a major studio release).

Further Viewing: The 2014 documentary “Oscar Michaeux: The Czar of Black Hollywood” by Bayer Mack finally gives the man his due.

This is a continuation of my “2001” post. You should read that first.

“2001” has such a strong impact on pop culture it warranted a second post. And be sure to keep scrolling for a few of my other “2001” related musings.

Legacy

• “2001” simultaneously revived and killed the science fiction movement. The film was a triumph in terms of its pure science fiction beliefs, but every film that was influenced by it leaned more towards the visual scope, churning out films more accurately described as “science fantasy” (“Star Wars” being the prime suspect). Who wants to think about our future evolution as a species when there’s cool spaceships flying in hyperspace and gross-looking aliens bursting out of people’s chests? Regardless, that’s still quite a lot of films that got the green light because of “2001”.

• Arthur C. Clarke wrote several sequels to the original novel, which abandon the first book’s continuity in favor of the film’s. The first follow-up, “2010: Odyssey Two”, was made into a film in 1984 with Roy Scheider and Helen Mirren. “2061” and “3001” have yet to be adapted for film, but Tom Hanks has expressed interest.

• Effects supervisor Douglas Trumbull was asked by ABC to recreate the “Star Gate” sequence for the introduction of the ABC Movie of the Week. Now viewers could trip out in their own home while watching “Brian’s Song”!

• Douglas Rain would voice a similarly disturbed computer in Woody Allen’s “Sleeper”.

• Both Clarke and Kubrick made the cover of Time Magazine. Well…sorta.

• Christopher Nolan made his own technologically impressive, yet somehow more baffling space epic: “Interstellar”. Muuuuurph!

• Every bit of artificial intelligence since 1968 has been compared to HAL. Watson, Siri, they’re all going to take over one day.

• A lot of musical influence. For starters, the title of one of the greatest songs ever recorded.

• If you’re going to make a comeback as the King of Rock and Roll, this is the song to open with.

• The album cover for “Who’s Next”.

• Is this where John Landis got “See you next Wednesday” from?

• My beloved MST3K is heavily influenced by “2001”. From the design of the SOL and Gypsy’s all-seeing eye, to “William Sylvester Trivial Pursuit” and the ultimate fate of Dr. Clayton Forrester.

• “Careful, they’re ruffled!”

Further Viewing: A shameless plug for my own endeavors. I’ve been lucky enough to play a HAL 9000-esque computer in two different parodies: The 2013 short film “Future Toilet” (the only time I’ve ever played the title character in a movie), and a 2015 episode of my short-lived podcast/radio show “Spoiler Alert” where Clay and I pondered what the show would sound like in the futuristic year of 2018!

 

Things About the Year 2001 I Wish “2001” Had Predicted

• “Shrek”
• Smash Mouth
• That scene in “Shrek” where they play “All Star” by Smash Mouth
• The Ravens winning the Super Bowl
• Bjork’s dress at the Oscars
• Alex Trebek shaving his mustache
• The ending of “Rat Race” where they play “All Star” by Smash Mouth (Jesus, that song was everywhere)
• Hot Topic
• The inexplicable fanbase around “Moulin Rouge!”
• Dick Cheney
• Kelly Ripa replacing Kathie Lee Gifford on “Live!”
• The high school football documentary “Go Tigers!” which features a scene where they play…oh Christ, are you kidding me?
• Popped Collars
• And I wish this film had advised me NOT to take Mr. Wehrle’s 2^nd period Freshman English class, because he was the only teacher who wouldn’t let us watch the news coverage of the September 11^th terrorist attacks while it was happening. Fuck you, Mr. Wehrle.

#172) 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

OR “You Say You Want An Evolution”

Directed by Stanley Kubrick

Written by Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke. Kinda sorta but not really based on the short story “The Sentinel” by Clarke.

Class of 1991

The Plot: A monolith. Ape-men. “Also Sprach Zarathustra”. The greatest jump cut ever. “The Blue Danube Waltz”. A mission to Jupiter. A supercomputer that has never made an error. Pod bay doors. A trip to the edge of the universe. A star child. “2001” defies plot.

Why It Matters: The NFR calls it the film that “pushed the envelope of narrative and special effects to create an introspective look at technology and humanity.” And of course there’s an essay, this time by film critic James Verniere.

But Does It Really?: Oh I can’t touch this one. Clarke lays the foundation with some astute and provoking (and ultimately quite accurate) future theory, and Kubrick runs with it, showcasing his detailed vision, some of the best repurposed classic music choices, and one of filmdom’s most unique and terrifying villains. Kubrick is no dummy; he knows that film succeeds as a visual medium. He keeps the dialogue to a minimum, leaves a lot of the film open to interpretation (while still maintaining his own clear vision), and presents us with some of the best visuals ever presented on screen. This film is an experience, arguably the film experience. You don’t watch “2001”; you let it wash over you, allowing the images and ideas to stay with you and challenge your viewpoint long after the film is over. “2001” is an undisputed classic, and the ripple effect is still going strong 50 years later.

Everybody Gets One: Co-writer Arthur C. Clarke, as well as most of the cast. Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood are still with us at the time of this writing and more than happy to discuss their experience on the film. The more private Douglas Rain resides in retirement in his native Canada.

Seriously, Oscars?: How much time do you have?

For starters, “2001” divided critics during its initial run, but did eventually find box office success with the counterculture youth, so its status as a classic wasn’t solidified when the Oscars rolled around. The film received four nominations, but NOT Best Picture (because “Funny Girl”, you guys!). Kubrick lost Director to overdue veteran Carol Reed for “Oliver!”, and Kubrick and Clarke lost Original Screenplay to Mel Brooks’ “The Producers” – perhaps Oscar’s most extreme case of “Apples v. Oranges”. The film did, however, win for Visual Effects. Due to unnecessarily restrictive eligibility guidelines, the statuette was awarded to Stanley Kubrick, credited as the “Effects Designer”, though he was not one of the four credited effect supervisors. This win – Kubrick’s sole career Oscar – resulted in a revision of the category’s eligibility policy.

Other notes

• The film was developed concurrently with the novel, hence its inclusion in the Original Screenplay category. The simultaneous writing led to some slight differences between the novel and the film, primarily the novel filling in some of the film’s story gaps.
• Did I just watch a stuntman in an ape suit get attacked by a leopard?
• Kudos to Stuart Freeborn, the film’s makeup artist. Those apes are way more realistic than the “Planet of the Apes” apes.

• This is the beginning of Kubrick with a budget, and boy does he use every penny they gave him. There is some incredible model work happening here. So much detail in every shot. This is not just another “rocket movie”.
• How different would this film be if they had used the Spike Jones cover of “Blue Danube” instead?

• “Your Christian name”? I guess this version of the year 2001 didn’t go through a PC ‘90s.
• Had to look up what a bush baby is. That’s a weird birthday request, Vivian.
• I love me some practical effects. The shots of people walking up walls in zero gravity are incredible. Say hi to Fred Astaire while you’re up there!
• A cover-up story on the moon that’s directed by Stanley Kubrick? What a ridiculous notion.
• HAL gets one of the best intros in any film. You instantly know that something is up. It’s quite chilling.

• Critics complain about how “bland” Frank and Dave are, but isn’t that the point? Technology has become more advanced, leading to more reliance on them from humans, meaning less independent thought, hence the blandness. Keir Dullea and Gary Lockwood are doing the best with what they were given, but they are fully aware that they are secondary to the visuals.
• BBC 12 may be the film’s only joke.
• Another What-If for you: What if Kubrick had kept his original choice of Martin Balsam for the voice of HAL? I’m sure Balsam would have appreciated not just being “the guy who falls down the stairs in ‘Psycho’”.
• Science fiction is always dated once it arrives at its future year, but we caught up to this film’s use of flatscreen tablets eventually.
• Yes, there are long stretches of the movie where “nothing happens”, but like “The Shining”, Kubrick still holds your focus in these moments. Even the stillness is riveting in this movie.
• My note for Frank’s last scene simply read “Oh shit, son!” I knew it was coming and it still shocked me.

• January 12^th 1992: George Bush is in the White House, Americans are listening to “Black or White” and reading “The Sum of All Fears”, “Avonlea” wins big at the CableAce Awards, and HAL 9000 is born!
• The Star Gate sequence. Man, that is a trip. No wonder you have to see this on the big screen. Side-note: Did “Bedknobs and Broomsticks” steal this scene shot-for-shot?

• My own take on the film: The prologue sets up our ancestors as prey that evolved into hunters. The meat of the film is about “modern” humans who have created technology that can become autonomous and turn us back into prey. We are reborn at the end, but only after things have gotten too complicated. Perhaps we evolve beyond the point of our own survival. As for the monolith, I dunno…magic? You want a thorough explanation of everything? Read the book.

The Legacy of “2001” (as well as a few bonus segments) can be found here.

Listen to This: “2001” is represented twice on the National Recording Registry: the 1954 Chicago Symphony recording of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” (the film uses the 1959 Vienna Philharmonic recording), and the 1961 recording of “Daisy Bell” that inspired HAL’s last scene.

#171) Meshes of the Afternoon (1943)

OR “Czech Mix”

Directed by Maya Deren and Alexander Hammid

Written by Deren

Class of 1990

The Plot: It’s experimental, there ain’t no plot. As best I can tell it’s a woman (Maya Deren) experiencing a dreamlike scene at her friend’s house that involves a flower, a phone, a key, a knife, and Death!

Why It Matters: The NFR calls it “one of the classics of avant-garde cinema” and praises the writing and cinematography. “Meshes of the Afternoon” was the first experimental film inducted into the National Film Registry.

But Does It Really?: The nice thing about experimental films is that I don’t get it, but I’m not supposed to get it. You can read whatever you wish into a film like this, and as long as you explain your viewpoint to others in the most condescending, self-entitled way possible, it’s valid! There’s some lovely technical work happening here, particularly the cinematography and editing, and Deren & Hammid recreate a dreamlike experience quite effectively. I give it a pass for being a prime example of American surrealism, and for being existential commentary on the work of Buñuel (At least that’s how I viewed the film. You disagree? Oh, you probably just didn’t get it.)

Everybody Gets One: We’ll see Alexander Hammid again with his later film “To Fly!”, but this is where we meet Maya Deren. Born Eleonora Derenkowska, she found herself in Los Angeles in the early ‘40s following a tour as the photographer/assistant to choreographer Katherine Dunham. It was in L.A. were Deren met Alexandr Hackenschmied, who nicknamed her Maya and helped turn her photography into experimental film.

Wow, That’s Dated: Rotary phones? I got nothing. Next!

Other notes

• Deren and Hammid were married in 1942, one year prior to “Meshes”. This has got to be the weirdest honeymoon video ever, and that’s saying something.
• For the record, I watched the 1959 version with the added score by Maya’s then-husband Teiji Ito. And if you’re going to add a score to a surreal film, atonal is the way to go. Side note: Don’t watch this version with ear buds. It will drive you insane.
• Speaking of the score, at the very beginning it sounds like Gumby’s going to start.
• I have never dropped a key that far down a flight of stairs. How is that even possible? Of course, if I start questioning the logic in this film we could be here all night.
• What do you think the script for this looked like? “Close-up on crazy shit. Wide angle on other crazy shit. Repeat.”
• Must have been weird for Maya and Alexander’s neighbors to look out their window and see Death walking by.
• Maya went to the “Star Trek” school of stumbling for the camera.
• A mirror as Death’s face. Nice touch.
• I believe I’ve seen the key/knife combo for sale on one of them late night infomercials. It’s the Lindsay Wagner one, right?
• Without spoiling too much, the shot that involves a mirror and the ocean is really cool.
• I wish my dreams were this artistically gratifying. Most of my dreams are me back in high school; no amount of camera trickery can spice that up.

Legacy

• Deren and Hammid made a few more films together prior to their divorce in 1947. Both would continue to make films, as well as other artistic endeavors, for the rest of their lives.

• David Lynch cites “Meshes of the Afternoon” as a major influence on his work, particularly “Lost Highway” and “Mulholland Dr.”

• The Death figure with the mirror face reappears in the music video for Janelle Monáe’s “Tightrope”. I’m just delighted I can legitimately reference Janelle Monáe on this blog. That’s a win!