Wednesday, May 19, 2004

How bad can it be?

By LINDSAY BIANCHI
lbianchi@thecitizennews.com

A couple of months ago I got the bright idea to set aside one column each month for the general discussion of films that have become a permanent part of my world either by owning them on videotape, (remember those things?) or simply by the fact that I have been scarred deeply by their images in some way. Apparently, I saw something shiny and was distracted because I have yet to make good on my promise (not that the cards and letters are pouring in or anything).

This scheme was supposed to free me up for other work I needed to do. I guess I forgot that most everything that requires me to think or move my appendages feels like work. I’m really at my best when I’m sleeping. So I made myself stay extra late this week to be sure to follow up on this meticulously thought out plan. This month I have put together a list of movies that amuse, not because they are well acted or cinematically breathtaking, but because they happen to be hugely embarrassing to the “stars” in them. Lucky for everyone else, they are perfect for a night of head shaking, “what were they thinking?” entertainment.

On the top of this list is a huge train wreck of a movie, one that hasn’t dated very well. In fact I am convinced that it’s superstar had it removed from the planet by aliens and now it is only available on Glopnor in the Snee galaxy. I’m talking, of course, about Barbara Streisand and her remake of “A Star Is Born.” There is so much here to laugh at, I have to just pick a place to begin. Let’s start with Barbara’s hair.

As part of “The Oreos”, a “Three Degree’s” kind of act with “the nose” in the middle, Barbara tries to pull off a frizzed-out afro. The truth is, someone should have pulled off that afro from her fat head! It was popular in the 70’s, but if one looks back at the hair and the fashion from the age of polyester, not much from that era seems rational today.

The element which makes this foray into musical tragedy so complete is her costar, Kris Kristofferson, as a huge mega-rock star with an attitude problem and a voice to match. When Kris growls, “Am I a figment of your imagination or are you one of mine?” you want to yell so he can hear you, “Neither!”

Since that great film is currently missing, (If anyone has an old copy, I will buy it. The most I will spend is $3000.) try another old favorite of mine, “Billie”, starring Patty Duke as a singing tomboy with “the beat”,a special gift she has that allows her to beat all the boys on the track team. The stocky, misunderstood Billie muscles her way through this suburban nightmare singing songs like “Funny Little Butterflies” and being carried around by her teammates as they serenade her with, “A Girl Is a Girl Is a Girl.” You want to wake up screaming, but there is no escape until Patty has taught everyone else “the beat” and lives groovily ever after. Even Jim Backus, as her horrified father can’t wait for this one to be over so he can escape to “Gilligan’s Island.”

I don’t mean to pick on the women, but strike three belongs to another singer/actress, Bette Midler. In another remake, this time the Barbara Stanwyck tear jerker, “Stella Dallas”, Bette tries to update the sad, sad tale of a mother’s ultimate sacrifice, her daughter’s happiness. “Stella”, (title happened for maximum market effect) lumbers along through the same maudlin scenes dragging John Goodman along with her as her good-time buddy (originally portrayed by Alan Hale Sr.) to the final scene. The classic shot of “Saint Stella” waddling off into the evening is made even more painful by allowing Midler yet another chance to overact, this time from the rear. The end!

Now it’s time for the men, and they are just as clueless even if they don’t sing. Sean Connery has made more movies that I can count (math was never my best subject) but 007 never counted on “Zardoz” to come back and bite him in the martini. John Boorman’s far future fable about eternity, death and bad costuming is a wonder to behold. Set in a time that looks strangely like the 70’s, “Zardoz”, a giant stone head that floats around and gives guns to barbaric tribes (why does that sound so familiar?) makes about as much sense as the colony of “eternals” who drive it. Charlotte Rampling plays one of the Utopian bores. You cannot tell if what is making her scowl is the lack of foresight in creating such a society or her unflattering future-wear. Many revelations follow that explain nearly everything but Charlotte’s disposition, but I will let you discover the truth behind the head for yourself.

Oddly enough, our latest James Bond, the debonair Pierce Brosnan is our next victim. “Nomads”, his first attempt at the big screen after putting up with Stephanie Zimbalist for one too many seasons on “Remington Steele”, makes almost as much sense as “Zardoz”, but not quite. Pierce is an anthropologist who discovers a modern roving gang of nomads (hence the title) led by none other than that great actor, Adam Ant, in a role that leads nowhere (much like his music career). Pursuit follows through the dark streets of a city until something happens. I don’t really remember what. All I remember is thinking to myself, ‘Adam Ant?’

Finally, mercifully, Roger Daltry, another fine actor in his own right (but probably not anyone else's) is let loose to trash the memory of that beloved composer, Franz Liszt In “Lisztomania.”. You remember Franz. He wrote Symphony in Bad minor or something. Well it turns out that his life was even more exciting that his music. And what a life!

First of all, he looks just like Roger Daltry. Not only that, but Ken Russell was his interior decorator! Ken turns the wiggy world of nineteenth century Hungary into a “Fellini-esque” fiasco, only without the Fellini part. It seems that “Tommy”, the classic rock opera by The Who wasn’t goofy enough, so Ken pulled Roger aside and said, “Look, mate, I got all these extra props left over. What say we go make another weird picture about Franz Liszt. You know, he wrote Cantata in Blah minor.” And Roger said, “But I’m tired Kenny.”

Well, anyway, the rest is history, really bad history. But Ken has lovingly preserved it for all time as a testament to the presumed stupidity of the general public. “Tommy was a bloody behemoth!” he screamed. “Lisztomania is gonna even more behemoth!” Yeah, right Ken.