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The Last Temptation of Christ (1988)
A Voice Crying in the Wilderness
I'm not even getting into the theological discussion here, just a tiny logical one. I was raised Catholic and jumped ship in my teens, at the earliest opportunity, so I'm pretty well versed in, well, chapter and verse. And I have thought from my tiny logical childhood that Judas did everything God asked him to do, so why was he always blamed for it? (Cue nuns with rulers...) Well, religion, at least Judeo-Christian-Islamic religion, has always been short on logic and introspection. Which is why I'm not bothering with it any more than that.
Okay, then. I thought that this was pretty interesting, what with the tantalizing possibility set forth that maybe Jesus was just a martyr to migraines or perhaps a small brain tumor, and the victim of schizo hallucinations. And a good case is made for this. But Willem Dafoe is not the actor one would choose to convey such delicacy and nuance. His affect is flat as a pancake and his slowness of delivery puts John Wayne to shame. Plus the blond hair and blue eyes are only slightly less ridiculous than the Lucky Charms leprechaun red hair of Harvey Keitel as Judas.
The acting and script in this flick are a general disgrace, and just about what I'd expect from the ham-fisted direction of Martin Scorsese. The only exception, and by far the best performance in this dismal camel-opera, is that of David Bowie, in a lamentably short scene as Pontius Pilate. He was superb, and I don't understand why people always dis him for his acting chops. He can really pull a memorable performance out when the chips are down ("Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence". "The Man Who Fell to Earth", "The Prestige", Broadway's "Elephant Man", yeah, even "Labyrinth"), and his turn here is like Roman carving in marble, incisive, bright and razor-sharp. I wish the part had been bigger.
So six stars for Mr. Bowie, and one star for Juliette Caton, the little girl who plays Satan. Though Bowie could have pulled that off too, I'm sure.
Absolute Beginners (1986)
Beginners Is Right!
I didn't exactly hold high expectations for this, and I admit I watched it solely for David Bowie. But any hopes or expectations I held were speedily dashed.
What the hell WAS this farrago? A British "West Side Story", with much less compelling music. Instead of Jets vs. Sharks, it was Teds, neo-fascists and greedy developers vs. just about the entire rest of society. In 1958,the year of the story, I was 12 years old, on the verge of becoming a "teenager", this mysteriously powerful being lauded by the film as a kind of godlike figure. But the glamorization of such nasty people and the romanticism of violence, improbable situations is SO unlikely and hard to swallow. I was a kid, as I said, but I really doubt that people sat around in cafés in narcoleptic trances snapping their fingers, or at least not for long periods of time. This fictional romanticism of parasites on society is my major hate on "West Side Story" itself. And the music was godawful, except for Bowie's contributions.
As for the actors: Patsy Kensit was charming enough in a thankless role, Eddie O'Connell basically disappeared into the scenery and didn't have the chops to carry the part, James Fox was delicious as always, and Bowie had about ten minutes total screen time, including a fairly dumb musical number, only tolerable because it was him and because he's a really good dancer who wore one of the best suits I've ever seen. A sad waste of his talents: I find him to be a very engaging actor and a lot better than people give him credit for.
All in all, an unpleasant, improbable piece of silliness, reducing the Notting Hill riots to choreographed posing. Avoid.
Mr. Rice's Secret (1999)
Bowie Everlasting
I had never heard of this movie before, and only watched it because David Bowie had top billing. Complete untruth in advertising: if he was in it for more than ten minutes' screen time, that's a lot. That said, he was delightful even in this tiny wee part: gentle, amusing, philosophical, hugely professional as always. He looked amazingly great and even looked hot raking leaves. Which I never imagined David Bowie doing, ever. So the 6 points I give it here are all for him.
The plot itself is full of more holes than a pound of Gruyere. We only see Mr. Rice in flashback: no idea of how he died or why, or of what so incredible a being is doing living out his last days in a tiny Canadian town. When we discover his secret (he's 395 years old), we are given no explanation of how he achieved that (presumably as a result of the magic potion he leaves the young boy who is the cancer-patient protagonist) or why he has decided to not renew his swigging of said potion. The kid, socked with all these revelations (for which we have not been prepared by the slightest bit of magical foreshadowing), is remarkably blasé about it: Oh, ho-hum, my late neighbor Mr. Rice was 400 years old, cool beans! And he shows not the least bit of curiosity about it. And why on earth (or under it) the charming Mr. Rice decided to make a grave robber out of his little neighbor is beyond me.
All in all, the lessons are trite, the children are vile and violent little thugs and bullies who badly need a good thrashing, and David Bowie must have just wanted a few light days in Vancouver. He's always worth watching, though. This could have been an odd, charming little movie if it had been about Mr. Rice and not about the kid.
The Hunger (1983)
From Hunger
I am not a fan of vampires in any shape or form. Except in the shape and form of David Bowie, who was the only reason I watched this piece of terminal preciosity in the first place and the only reason it gets four stars instead of zero. Well, okay, Tony Scott too, a little. But the rest of the cast, no. Catherine Deneuve always strikes me as a beautiful blank-faced animated dressmaker's dummy, and Susan Sarandon's perky feisty little shtick is wearing very, very thin.
But. Vampires. I find them incredibly boring and banal, so really I was just, as I said, watching for Bowie. He looked fantastic, but the part didn't give him a whole lot to do. The shower scene was pleasant enough, and he did have a bit of actual acting to deal with on occasion, but he spent most of the film in old-age makeup, which kind of defeated my purpose. And lesbian sex between Deneuve and Sarandon, oh ick. I'd rather have watched Bowie play some more cello. Anyway, I was bored and annoyed. But don't go by me. Vampire groupies probably love it.
The Sunshine Makers (1935)
Psychedelic, Man!
I remember seeing this cartoon on TV (Channel 13, an early 50's incarnation of PBS) here in NYC. I was four or five years old, and I thought it was totally cool.
That channel also deserves the glory of running the Farmer Gray cartoons, my first exposure to classical music)---I heard a song that stayed in my head for twenty years, until I finally heard someone playing it and found out its name (the old English country dance tune known as "Sellenger's Round" or "The Beginning of the World").
Anyway, I saw "The Sunshine Makers" there, and then promptly forgot about it until I saw it on the light show screen at the Fillmore East, many years and some illicit substances later.
Stoned, we loved it...I still do. SO extremely weird. There were other cartoons the Fillmore East ran, including one with Tommy Popski that was all about immigrants and their "funny" names. Hey, social conscience! Rocks.