“The real problem is that Kubrick set out to make a horror picture with no apparent understanding of the genre. Everything about it screams that from beginning to end, from plot decision to the final scene — which has been used before on The Twilight Zone.” Stephen King interviewed for Playboy Magazine, June 1983

The Shining (1980)
Directed by Stanley Kubrick
Screenplay by Stanley Kubrick & Diane Johnson, based on the novel by Stephen King
Produced by Stanley Kubrick
146 minutes (original U.S. theatrical version)/ 144 minutes (U.S. theatrical version)/ 119 minutes (international version)

Debating whether or not Jack Nicholson’s fortissimo performance in The Shining — as a family man who slips into homicidal insanity during his season as caretaker of a haunted hotel — needed to be played at such a high volume is like debating whether Jimi Hendrix really needed to light a perfectly good electric guitar on fire at Monterey Pop. There may have been a perfectly good exercise in gothic terror and things that go bump in the night lurking within Stephen King‘s novel, but the film version was designed and constructed by Stanley Kubrick. Drawn up as a last will and testament to the horror genre as far as the high and mighty Kubrick was concerned, the film inflicts such psychic trauma on the viewer that it needs a joker like Jack in the deck to soften its wicked blow.

Striking ominous chords from the start, schoolteacher Jack Torrance (Nicholson) accepts a six month stint as caretaker of the Overlook Hotel, encouraged that winter’s isolation will give him time to outline a novel. The general manager feels obligated to mention a tragedy in which a previous caretaker killed his wife and two daughters with an axe before shooting himself. Jack responds that his wife — a fan of “ghost stories and horror films” — will be thrilled. The skittish Wendy Torrance (Shelley Duvall) finds the illustrious hotel spooky, while 7-year-old Danny (Danny Lloyd) receives visions of the future that are nothing short of terrifying. A departing cook (Scatman Crothers) confides to the boy that they share a special power his grandmother called ”shining”. Assured there’s nothing  to be scared of, Danny senses something bad lurking at the Overlook, particularly in Room 237.

Warner Bros. president John Calley knew that Stanley Kubrick had an interest in the paranormal and sent him a galleys copy of The Shining in 1977. Ignoring a first draft Stephen King had been contractually guaranteed to author, Kubrick adapted a script with novelist Diane Johnson, who was teaching a course on the gothic novel at UC Berkeley. Certain exterior shots of the Overlook Hotel would be filmed at the Timberline Lodge, on the slopes of Mount Hood in Oregon. The vast majority of the film — including the hedge maze — was manufactured at Elstree Studios outside London. Filming commenced in May 1978 and given Kubrick’s refusal to be hurried through a schedule, didn’t wrap until April 1979. Kubrick tinkered with his film even after it was in U.S. theaters for five days, cutting an epilogue in which the general manager visits Wendy in the hospital.

The film departed so radically from his book  that Stephen King authored the teleplay for a 4-hour mini-series version that aired on ABC in 1997. Kubrick ignored many of the elements King found eerie — an elevator, a firehose, animal shaped shrubs — to focus instead on a child’s subconscious dread of a parent turning into a monster. The magnificence of The Shining is how Kubrick exploits that fear viscerally. Snippets of a blood soaked future flash through Danny’s mind while the corridors of the hotel breathe with living images of the past. Wendy Carlos and Rachel Elkind provided electronic sound elements, which Kubrick sourced with music from classical composers György Ligeti and Krzysztof Penderecki to create one of the most unnerving film scores ever. Criticized at the time for not watching enough horror movies, the bottom line is that Kubrick’s vision is scary as hell.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 423,027 users: 91% for The Shining

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: N/A

What do you say? The fan trailer below was superior to any I could find from Warner Bros.

Q: “Why exactly did Paramount bury it?”
A: “Well, I think the real question is, why was it even made?”
Nick Schager interviewing Lou Adler for IFC News, September 2008

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains (1982)
Directed by Lou Adler
Written by Nancy Dowd (as Rob Morton)
Produced by Joe Roth
87 minutes

For those who always wanted to find a time capsule buried in their backyard, or possibly stashed beneath the floorboard of their home, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains comes closer to capturing that sense of handcrafted wonder, impeccable historical detail and genuine surprise than just about any movie of the 1980s. Like a tin bin containing dime store knick knacks and faded newspaper clippings, this eclectic hybrid of music drama and chick empowerment vehicle lacks anything in the way of lavish production value. Much of its speedy 87 minutes feels duct taped together from different script drafts, reshoots and test screenings, but strangely, nothing could feel more true to the film’s punk rock aesthetic than a film with the sound of a worn out amp resold at a Pittsburgh pawn shop.

Diane Lane — 15 years young when shooting commenced in March 1980 — plays Corinne “Third Degree” Burns, an orphaned teen stuck with sister “Dee Peleted” (Marin Kanter) and cousin “Dizzy Heights” (Laura Dern) in their Pennsylvania steel town. Corrine catches British punk band The Looters as they pass through and implores their irascible lead singer Billy (Ray Winstone) for an audition. The Stains get their break from a Jamaican tour manager (Barry Ford), who hopes the girls distract Billy from exterminating the headliner, a one-hit rock relic from the ’70s named Lou Corpse (Fee Waybill). Corrine makes up for zero musical ability with a fuck you attitude, provocative hair/makeup and a feminist point of view, declaring “We’re The Stains and we don’t put out!” TV exposure swells the band’s disaffected female fanbase, but ignoring Billy’s advice, Corrine makes all the wrong decisions for the very first time.

After the success of Slap Shot in 1977, Paramount Pictures offered screenwriter Nancy Dowd a two-script deal. Dowd wanted to write about girls in a steel town who liberate themselves through punk rock. Introducing her to that scene was Caroline Coon, an artist who’d briefly managed The Clash; the studio would retain Coon as creative consultant and costume designer for what Dowd had titled All Washed Up. To direct, Paramount offered the project to Lou Adler, a record producer who’d worked with The Mamas & The Papas and Carole King and hit pay dirt at the picture show in 1978 with Cheech & Chong’s Up In Smoke. Dowd would later strip her name from the credits — citing sexual harassment on the set in Vancouver — but what doomed the film was a calamitous test screening in Denver. Now titled Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains, it became a staple on USA Network’s zombie schedule in the late ’80s but wasn’t available on home video until 2008, when Rhino Entertainment distributed the DVD.

Whether by strict design or happy accident — Dowd received an Academy Award for co-writing Coming Home, while Adler never directed again — Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains taps into an agitated rhythm, buzzing the two bit dives of the Rust Belt with bumblebee’s pace and never losing its sting. In addition to performances by Diane Lane and Laura Dern that feel both surly and vulnerable, the sublime cast is led by a cherub faced Ray Winstone. Former Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones and drummer Paul Cook (who together wrote three songs for the soundtrack) comprise an all-star punk band in The Looters, along with Paul Simonon from The Clash on bass. Playing tour manager, Barry Ford brings both diversity and a sense of truth to the story, which neither advocates coloring inside the lines or ripping up the paper purely for anarchy’s sake.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 1,325 users: 64% for Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: N/A

What do you say?

“Talking about it was so important to that film. I think some people could despise it. If you don’t like the story or what it’s saying, then you just end up hating everything. It’s not a movie for everybody. Some people really dug it. Others thought it was disgusting and sick. And, of course, it is but it has two sides. You have to have the contrasts. Films should have power. The power of good and the power of darkness, so you can get some thrills and shake things up a bit. If you back off from that stuff, you’re shooting right down into lukewarm junk.” David Lynch interviewed by Chris Rodley for Lynch on Lynch

Blue Velvet (1986)
Directed by David Lynch
Written by David Lynch
Produced by Fred Caruso
120 minutes

Taken at face value, Blue Velvet is the most primal tribute to Alfred Hitchcock to be conjured by another director outside of Alfred Hitchcock. Shadow of a Doubt found diabolism under the eaves in a small town, Rear Window warned voyeurs against peeping through the blinds of their neighbors and Blue Velvet hands out literature with a similar message, complete with a portrait of evil more unsettling than Psycho. If David Lynch had been satisfied making a thriller about other thrillers, his fourth motion picture would have still been one of the decade’s most powerful. Kyle MacLachlan (in his second film role after debuting as The Chosen One in Lynch’s unwieldily adaptation of Dune) plays Jeffrey Beaumont, a college student who returns to his “woodsy” hometown of Lumberton after his father suffers a terrifying stroke.

Strolling home, Jeffrey discovers a human ear in a field. The police detective on the case stays mum on who belongs to the ear, but his teenaged daughter Sandy (Laura Dern) is game to let Jeffrey in on what she’s heard through the walls, specifically, the name of a singer named Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini). Jeffrey’s thirst for “knowledge and experience” leads him to Dorothy’s apartment on the dark side of town. He’s forced to take cover in a closet and see what should have been left unseen: an amyl nitrate inhaling psychopath named Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) has kidnapped Dorothy’s son and husband, clipping off her spouse’s ear to keep the songstress dependent on him. Jeffrey is repulsed by and attracted to his subject and it takes more than a hell ride with Frank and his crew for him to put Dorothy Vallens out of mind.

David Lynch grew up in Spokane and began noodling on Blue Velvet as early as 1973, starting with Bobby Vinton’s haunting version of the melody, some suburban mise-en-scène and Lynch’s obsession with sneaking into a girl’s room at night, where a mystery might be revealed while he watched her. The script frightened Warner Bros. and perplexed Lynch, specifically, how it should end. He accepted an offer to adapt and direct Dune for Dino De Laurentiis and though the results didn’t live up to expectations, De Laurentiis rolled the dice on Lynch again and his gamble paid off. The National Society of Film Critics voted Blue Velvet the Best Picture of 1986, but with Children of a Lesser God, Hannah and Her Sisters, The Mission, Platoon and A Room with a View vying for Best Picture, Blue Velvet was left in the dark at the Oscars.

With the eerie steadiness of a planchette being nudged across a ouija board, the mastery of Blue Velvet is how it drifts away from safety and discovers perversity lurking under what passes for normal in the suburbs. In terms of visual composition, this is watercolor come to life. Cinematographer Frederick Elmes immerses the film in electric blues, verdant greens and nightmare black. Even with extras who look like they were stolen from a circus, there’s not a bad performance in the picture; Kyle MacLachlan, Isabella Rossellini and Dennis Hopper have never been stronger, with Hopper cracking the screen with white trash intensity. In the daylight scenes, Lynch lets his infectious sense of humor come out to play. After dark, he forces viewers to question the foundation of evil. Angelo Badalamenti composed the lush orchestral score.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 67,823 users: 88% for Blue Velvet

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: N/A

What do you say?

“The companies, the majors, were afraid of it. They felt that it’s a downer, that the main character is going to be not very likable. And they also were suspicious about the genre, because they kept saying that the murder mystery plot isn’t very strong, which they were right about! They really wanted a murder mystery. Finally they said yes. Then they regretted it, I’m sure. And now they are glad.” — Ivan Passer interviewed by Jonathan Rosenbaum in New York, July 1981

Cutter’s Way (1981)
Directed by Ivan Passer
Screenplay by Jeffrey Alan Fiskin, based on the novel Cutter and Bone by Newton Thornburg
Produced by Paul R. Gurian
105 minutes

Coloring outside the lines of its literary source material as much as a movie adaptation needs to, Cutter’s Way is a damn near perfect picture of character, atmosphere and idiosyncrasy. This is a rare film that feels like it leapt to screen from the Smith Corona of a 20th century novelist without any artificial sweeteners; you can smell the cigarette smoke dangling in the air. Firmly in the Han Solo stage of his career, Jeff Bridges stars as Richard Bone, a fop who divides his time between boinking housewives, pimping sailboats in Santa Barbara and shirking responsibility at large. His best friends are a one-eyed, one-legged, one-man wrecking ball named Alex Cutter (John Heard) and his wife Mo (Lisa Eichhorn), whose sultry bloom is beginning to peel behind alcohol and her marriage to Cutter, a Vietnam vet.

Returning from a session with his latest paramour (Nina van Pallandt), Bone abandons his piece of shit Austin Healey in an alley. There, he encounters a man dumping a woman’s body in a trash can. When Bone tries to intercede, he’s nearly run over. Selling his alibi to the police, Bone is introduced to Valerie Duran (Ann Dusenberry), the spunky sister of the murder victim who asks Bone to help her nab the killer. He prefers to celebrate Old Spanish Days with Cutter and Mo, but while watching a parade, identifies the killer as J.J. Cord (Stephen Elliott), an oil company tycoon who owns Santa Barbara. Refusing to suffer the indignity of another fat cat buying his way out of a crime, Cutter hatches a scheme to nail Cord. Bone resists getting involved until his fatalistic friend leaves him no choice.

No fan of the mystery genre per se, Newton Thornburg published his fourth novel Cutter and Bone in 1976 to raves and respectable enough sales for Paul R. Gurian to option the film rights. Screenwriter Jeffrey Alan Fiskin was hired to adapt a screenplay and the project was set up at EMI, where it may have been hoped that The Deer Hunter had wet the public’s appetite for Vietnam themed movies. Director Robert Mulligan was attached and Dustin Hoffman pursued to play Alex Cutter. When Hoffman dissipated, Mulligan moved on. Gurian ultimately turned to Ivan Passer, a Czech filmmaker whose 1965 debut feature Intimate Lighting may have impressed the producer with its nonjudgmental look at human nature. When Jeff Bridges agreed to play Bone, United Artists stepped in to bankroll the quirky, character driven lark.

Management upheaval at United Artists during the fiasco of Heaven’s Gate (in addition to contemptible reviews in the New York Times and New Yorker) prompted the studio to orphan Cutter and Bone in March 1981 after one week in limited release. A flurry of ecstatic reviews and film festival awards forced UA to reconsider and six months later, the film was rereleased under a new title: Cutter’s Way. It remained enough of a marketing enigma to stay off VHS until 1991 and DVD until 2001. Meandering and moody, Cutter’s Way doesn’t have the payoffs of a popcorn thriller. As a sensual rendering of three souls, their environment and their personal aberrations, the film is exhilarating. Cast and performed to perfection, cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth lit the picture like some dingy beer hall of dream while Jack Nitzsche composed the bewitching musical score.

Whoever said that talking about politics, religion or sex on a blind date was a bad idea could just have easily applied that rule to movies. Or maybe like Peter Venkman said, it’s more of a guideline than a rule. I caught two movies recently that were the flip side of the same coin: independently financed romantic dramas ripe with political intrigue, both written and directed by women under the age of 40. Let’s see Blockbuster Video devote a shelf to that genre.

Cairo Time (2009)
Directed by Ruba Nadda
Written by Ruba Nadda
Produced by Daniel Iron, David Collins
90 minutes

Ruba Nadda was born in Montréal, Canada to a Syrian father and a Palestinian mother. She first visited the city known as “The Mother of the World” at the age of 16 with her family. After graduating Tisch School of the Arts in New York, Nadda went on to write and direct 16 short films and one feature, Sabah, in 2005. Also that year, the filmmaker arrived on the idea for a new script. Determined to capture life in Cairo as she’d experienced it over the years, Cairo Time focused on a 50-year-old American named Juliette who arrives to visit her diplomat husband, who she learns has been detained working in a refugee camp across the border in Gaza. Passing time in an exotic but bewildering city, Juliette forms a relationship with her husband’s former security officer, an Arab named Tareq.

Nadda got her script to producer Daniel Iron of Toronto-based Foundry Films. Equally enthused by what they read were Christine Vachon and Charles Pugilese of New York indie stalwart Killer Films, whose stamp on movies from Party Monster to Mildred Pierce usually indicates something different. The filmmaker shielded her producers from the logistical challenges that awaited in Cairo, but in a preview of coming attractions, the production was barred because Canada did not have a co-production treaty with Egypt. Ireland did, so Nadda put Iron in contact with producer David Collins, whose Dublin-based Samson Films had helped the Oscar winning Once reach the screen. Within two years, the Canadian/Irish co-production raised financing.

Before I express my ardor for Cairo Time, I’ll admit to hitting pause on my MacBook three times during the 90 minute running time. I wandered away to YouTube for some southern rock and videos of a skateboarding bulldog named Tillman. If I haven’t completely squandered my credibility here, I’ll add that I finished Cairo Time in one sitting, which is like professional critics saying they gave a movie an 8 out of 10. Collaborating with cinematographer Luc Montpellier — who shot most of Nadda’s short films — and editor Teresa Hannigan, the major reason to see Cairo Time is its luscious texture. Deliberate and sensual without having much to do with sex, the picture immerses us in the clamor, the color and the cadences of Cairo without feeling like tourist bureau propaganda.

Cairo Time conveys so much more about its world with silence — Patricia Clarkson closing her eyes in weariness, or Alexander Sidding, in a career making performance, politely directing Clarkson’s character through the city — than most romances are able or willing to with pages of dialogue. The film is like a splash of water in the heat; refreshing and vivid. I got a better sense of what life in Cairo was like than I could short of hopping a flight there, particularly how similar it was to any other metropolis. The events of the Arab spring only make the picture more relevant now than when it was released October 2009 in Canada and August of the following year in the States. Ruba Nadda has a passionate, self assured voice I’m looking forward to hearing again.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 3,832 users: 59% for Cairo Time

Metacritic “Metascore” average among 26 leading critics: 67 for Cairo Time

What do you say?

“Portmanteau” is French for “coat rack”. Lewis Carroll appropriated the word in 1871 for Through The Looking Glass to explain two words merged into one; “chortle” is a portmanteau Carroll invented, while “Internet”, “blog” and “sexploitation” are three he did not. In the month of January, I’ll take a look at portmanteau films, where we find different coats hanging in the same closet, whether tailored by one filmmaker or the collaborative effort of several.

Cat’s Eye (1985)
Directed by Lewis Teague
Screenplay by Stephen King, based on the short stories Quitters, Inc. and The Ledge by Stephen King
Produced by Martha Schumacher
94 minutes

Less inspired than the portmanteau horror comic Creepshow (1982) but way more fun than it needed to be, Cat’s Eye is for Stephen King fans what a trick ‘r treat grab bag is for the kiddies; no good for you, yet delectable. After working with Drew Barrymore on a big screen version of King’s novel Firestarter, Dino De Laurentiis felt that the 8-year-old was going to be a star. The producer flew to Bangor to propose that King work Barrymore into pieces that De Laurentiis held film rights to, short stories appearing in the author’s 1978 terror anthology Night Shift. King adapted two of those stories — Quitters, Inc. and The Ledge — and added an original one about a little girl and a troll. The segments would be connected by the misadventures of a cat. To direct, De Laurentiis tapped Lewis Teague, who’d shot Fighting Back (1982) for the producer and knocked out an adaptation of King’s Cujo (1983).

Cat’s Eye was filmed in Wilmington, where the economics of shooting a movie in a right-to-work state like North Carolina had enticed De Laurentiis to make Firestarter there in 1983 and convinced him to build a production facility in the town. By the time it hit U.S. screens in April 1985, nine feature films had been distributed under the Stephen King brand name and in a change of pace, Quitters, Inc. and The Ledge dispense with ghosts and goblins to showcase King’s gift for pure suspense, as well as a gleeful black wit that so few of the movies based on his work have bothered with. Whether rushed for time, or realizing that the customer needed to be served, King wheels in the freak for the third segment and the result is one of the goofiest things he’s written. Deflating an hour in, Cat’s Eye is still one of King’s more satisfying forays in Hollywood: artfully written, capably cast and most of all, a good time.

After evading a rabid St. Bernard and a cherry red 1958 Plymouth Fury, a stray cat seeks refuge in a moving van and ends up in New York City, where a man picks it up off the street. In the first of three segments, nicotine addict Dick Morrison (James Woods) visits Quitters, Inc. to help him kick the habit. Not long after meeting company president Mr. Donatti (Alan King), Dick realizes Quitters, Inc. is a mafia operated tax dodge that has adopted a few of its time honored, brass knuckled tactics to help clients quit smoking. Watched day and night, or led to believe he is, Dick’s inevitable relapse has interesting consequences for his wife (Mary D’Arcy). The cat next hops a ferry to Atlantic City, where it becomes the object of a bet between casino boss Mr. Cressner (Kenneth McMillan) and one of his men when the feline is caught in the middle of a street.

Fallen tennis pro Johnny Norris (Robert Hays) attempts to flee town with the boss’s wife (Patricia Kalember), but is intercepted by Cressner’s goon (Mike Starr) and dragged to a penthouse. Norris is given a choice: prison time for heroin that’s been planted in his white Mustang … or a wager. Cressner bets cash and his wife against the athlete’s ability to walk the outside of the building using little more than a five-inch ledge. Left with no choice, Norris is game. Once the cat escapes Cressner’s clutches, it arrives in Wilmington, where a girl (Drew Barrymore) adopts it in spite of resistance by her mother (Candy Clark), who doesn’t trust the animal. The bigger problem for our girl is the troll that lives in her wall. Emerging after dark to pinch the girl’s nose shut and steal her breath, her only hope is an intervention by the cat, which she’s named General.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 6,007 users: 51% for Cat’s Eye

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: Not available

What do you say?

This month’s theme was hatched after yet another person with better taste than me recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for nine more films with similar themes, “Cat Food”, “Rain” and “Corset” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

Beautiful Girls (1996)
Directed by Ted Demme
Written by Scott Rosenberg
Produced by Cary Woods
112 minutes

Like a Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer for Generation X, Beautiful Girls has carved its niche as holiday comfort food that tastes great every year. Following his first produced screenplay Things To Do In Denver When You’re Dead, Scott Rosenberg signed a deal with Touchstone Pictures. He submitted a treatment for his first assignment Con Air and waiting for word in Boston while snowplows dug through a blizzard, it occurred to Rosenberg that the real action was in his hometown, where friends were dealing with commitment as they hit their third decade. Rosenberg emerged from his room five days later with a script. Brian Grazer, Ridley Scott and Mace Neufeld were interested, but producer Cary Woods and Miramax Films won the bidding. Rosenberg worked on a dozen drafts with James L. Brooks before the director decided he didn’t relate much with blue collar 30-year-olds and dropped out.

Ted Demme wasn’t much older than the characters in the script and was ultimately hired to direct. His aesthetic influence was The Deer Hunter and preferring “Knight’s Ridge” to look as worn down and as frozen in time as possible, opted to shoot the film in Minnesota. With 17 characters packed into a 1 hour 50 minute movie, there are segments of Beautiful Girls that work much better than others: Michael Rapaport as a local yokel obsessed with fashion models, a Neil Diamond sing-along and (no joke) Rosie O’Donnell chart high, while the “romance” between Natalie Portman and Timothy Hutton remains the #1 reason to see the movie, an episodic comedy drama that never spells out its intentions or dumbs itself down. The script is a series of insights in search of a story, but after a few years, you not only feel you know these characters, but look forward to spending time with them.

Lounge playing piano man Willie Conway (Timothy Hutton) scrapes together enough cash for bus fare from New York City back home to the town of “Knight’s Ridge” for his 10-year high school reunion. Willie discovers that his friends never really left. Tommy (Matt Dillon) runs a plowing company and clings to his glory days by sleeping with ex-cheerleader Darian (Lauren Holly). Tommy’s loyal girlfriend Sharon (Mira Sorvino) copes with his behavior by focusing on her weight, which her brassy pal Gina (Rosie O’Donnell) sees as a perpetuation of male fantasy. Paul (Michael Rapaport) pushes away his girlfriend Jan (Martha Plimpton) by refusing to accept she isn’t cheating on him with the meat cutter. He buys her  a brown engagement ring and when she refuses to marry him, Paul buries Jan’s driveway in snow.

The quiet Kev (Max Perlich) also shovels snow for a living but aspires to do little more than work all day and drink all night. Husband and father Mo (Noah Emmerich) seems to be the only genuine grownup among the group. The weekend takes a detour with the entrance of Andrea (Uma Thurman), a beautiful and cool import from Chicago visiting Knight’s Ridge to see her cousin “Stinky” (Pruitt Taylor Vince), who runs the tavern the boys drink at. Each of the guys take turns trying to impress her, to little avail. Willie’s girlfriend and possible fiancée (Annabeth Gish) soon joins him, but the 29-year-old musician confides his commitment fears to a kindred spirit, the soulful 13-year-old who lives next door, Marty (Natalie Portman). She suggests Willie wait to get married until he meets someone who excites him. By Willie’s math, when Marty turns 23, he’ll only be 39.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 4,746 users: 79% for Beautiful Girls

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 64 for Beautiful Girls

What do you say?

This month’s theme was hatched after yet another person with better taste than me recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for nine more films with similar themes, “Laundromat”, “Love Triangle” and “Shaving Legs” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

The Girl in the Café (2005)
Directed by David Yates
Written by Richard Curtis
Produced by Hilary Bevan Jones
93 minutes

Desaturated of artificial sweeteners and preservatives, The Girl in the Café is lean, thoughtful and a small work of beauty, another exhibit in the case that TV has overtaken feature films in terms of quality. A co-founder of the U.K.’s Comic Relief charity and supporter of Make Poverty History — which pushed for debt relief, aid and trade to the Third World — screenwriter Richard Curtis sought to marry the world of politics with his other passion: the romantic comedy. The creator of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Love Actually, Curtis had a mainstream Hollywood production in mind, with a star like Jack Nicholson falling in love with his political contrarian at the United Nations. But Curtis discovered the faster production schedule of television would get the film finished in time for the G8 summit in Scotland, where extreme poverty was to be the focus.

Opting to make The Girl in the Café the highlight of a broadcast season raising awareness for global poverty, BBC1 controller Lorraine Heggessey financed the picture for £2 million, roughly $3.8 million USD. Producer Hilary Bevan Jones sought out David Yates, director of British television’s State of Play and Sex Traffic. Jones’ production company Tightrope Pictures produced the film with BBC and HBO, which aired it June 2005. In contrast to Love Actually, which Richard Curtis tricked out with every bell and whistle in the North Pole, The Girl in the Café settles into an everyday grace that surpasses anything he’s written for the screen. With a smaller scale, the Hugh Grant & Julia Roberts parts are played instead by Bill Nighy & Kelly Macdonald. Much more subdued and far more believable than a couple of stars would have been, Nighy & Macdonald are blissful to watch flourish in leading roles.

A statistician named Lawrence (Bill Nighy) breaks for tea at a café in Piccadilly Square. The crowd forces him to share a table with Gina (Kelly Macdonald), a young woman also taking her tea alone. Lawrence offers that he’s employed at Downing Street in work that requires “a lot of paper, a lot of pens”. Gina reveals little more than she does nothing and is a student of sorts. The conversation flows well enough for the socially awkward Lawrence to ask Gina to dinner before returning to work, where his boss, Chancellor of the Exchequer (Ken Stott) and his staff prepare for an economic summit. As Lawrence and Gina get to know each other over inedible pea soup and other delights, Lawrence reveals that he’s headed to a shindig in Reykjavik, Iceland known as the G8 conference, where the leaders of the free world hammer out policy for the next year.

Offering that they could both learn some new facts about Iceland, Lawrence invites Gina to accompany him to the summit. He suffers the embarrassment of realizing the room they’ve been booked only has one bed, but Gina offers to sleep on the couch so the numbers cruncher can be refreshed for negotiations. The British push for an ambitious resolution on debt, aid and trade to Africa, but see that vision pared down due to resistance by the Americans. While Lawrence suffers impending defeat quietly, Gina implores those she meets not to shrink from their responsibility to save the lives of millions. Urged to send the troublemaker home, Lawrence finds he is unable to. He vouches for her behavior and invites the girl in the café to a reception for the British prime minister, where Gina’s inability to sit silent on the issues has major consequences for their relationship.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average: Not available

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: Not available

What do you say?

This month’s theme was hatched after yet another person with better taste than me recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for nine more films with similar themes, “Chopsticks”, “Slacker” and “Fitting Room” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

Shopgirl (2005)
Directed by Anand Tucker
Screenplay by Steve Martin, based on his novella
Produced by Ashok Amritraj, Jon Jashni, Steve Martin
106 minutes

As dazzling as Christmas pageant and equally bloated, Shopgirl is blessed and dogged by its formality. Not exactly an autobiographical account, Steve Martin drew on 25 years of relationships for a novella, published in 2000. A film version was set up at Lakeshore Entertainment, with director Anand Tucker and actress Claire Danes attached. Thrown into turnaround, film rights were picked up by Ashok Amritraj, who was sold on the property while working with Martin on Bringing Down the House in 2002. The former tennis pro’s production company Hyde Park Entertainment had a deal with Touchstone Pictures and once Jason Schwartzman took a role vacated by Jimmy Fallon at the last minute, they had a movie. A 45-day schedule commenced October 2003 in Beverly Hills and Silverlake. Several of the interiors were filmed at Delfino Studios in Sylmar.

Steve Martin had gambled on Englishman Mick Jackson to direct his script L.A. Story and 14 years later, the Thailand born, U.K. bred Anand Tucker certainly brings a European depth to Martin’s material. Deliberately paced and nearly devoid of chuckles, the approach is eye popping, a poor man’s David Fincher for better or for worse. Claire Danes & Jason Schwartzman are superbly cast as L.A. lovers who meet a year too soon, but Martin’s subdued older gentleman intrudes like an afterthought from a previous draft. Shopgirl is worth watching for Danes, whose gifts of refinement seem rarely in demand for high concept Hollywood these days. David Cronenberg’s frequent DP Peter Suschitzky provided the carnivale lighting scheme, though the musical score by Barrington Pheloung suggests something heartbreaking is set to occur at any moment.

In Beverly Hills, Mirabelle Buttersfield (Claire Danes) is relegated to working the lonely 3rd floor of Saks Fifth Avenue, where she sells the antiquated women’s garment of hand gloves. Returning to her plain apartment building in Silverlake, Mirabelle dedicates herself to etchings, which she sells here or there to local art galleries. The Vermont native otherwise toils in obscurity, hoping someone important heralds her unique talent. At the Launder Land coin-op laundry, Mirabelle instead meets the slovenly Jeremy (Jason Schwartzman), a fellow artist who stencils fonts of his own design onto amplifiers. After an awkward first date totally devoid of chemistry, she throws Jeremy’s phone number in the trash. Succumbing to loneliness, Mirabelle initiates a sexual tryst that ends up being cut short by her reclusive house cat.

Back at Saks, Mirabelle receives a customer in the silver haired Ray Porter (Steve Martin), whose reserved approach and taste in shoes catch her eye. The mystery man sends Mirabelle a gift of gloves attached to a dinner invitation, which she accepts after he pays her work station another visit. A Seattle logistician who rents a home in Los Angeles so he won’t have to spend time packing when visits, Ray plays it proper with the emotionally maturing Mirabelle, making a speech the morning after they consummate their affair that his job doesn’t permit a long-term relationship. Mirabelle translates this as Ray planning on being with her long term as soon as work permits it. While Ray continues to keep Mirabelle at arm’s length, Jeremy follows her advice, showing some initiative in his field. Finding great success, he returns to Mirabelle a man.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 17,747 users: 51% for Shopgirl

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 62 for Shopgirl

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This month’s theme was hatched after someone with better taste than me recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for films with similar themes, “Department Store”, “Medication” and “Love Triangle” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

Being Julia (2004)
Directed by István Szabó
Screenplay by Ronald Harwood, based on the novella Theatre by W. Somerset Maugham
Produced by Robert Lantos
105 minutes

There’s an ingeniously wicked story about endurance and revenge wrapped inside the extravagant packaging of Being Julia, which boasts one of our Iron Chefs of acting — Annette Bening — slicing and sautéing her way to her much deserved third Oscar nomination. The project originated with W. Somerset Maugham’s 1947 novella Theatre and British producer Mark Milln, who acquired the screen rights and approached Ronald Harwood to write the adaptation. Harwood was not only familiar with the story, but had already considered adapting it into a film.The screenwriter sent his first draft to producer Robert Lantos of Toronto based Serendipity Point Films. Intending to provide Lantos with a writing sample for an open assignment, Harwood not only landed that gig (director Norman Jewison’s final film The Statement) but sold Being Julia as well.

Lantos shared the script with István Szabó, the Hungarian director whom the producer had worked with on the 1999 historical drama Sunshine. Roughly $18 million in financing was secured from investors in the U.S., the U.K., Canada and Hungary and a 54-day shooting schedule commenced in June 2003; the theatre was found in Kecskemet, south of Budapest, where most of the interiors were filmed. Distributed in the U.S. by Sony Pictures Classics, Being Julia has a bit of that artificial, retirement community splendor that practically every Oscar baiting movie from Miramax Films featured in the same period, but once the lavish production design by Luciana Arrighi is filed away, a fanciful and sophisticated comedy about the art of deception takes off. Annette Bening’s comedic gifts are expertly used here and the supporting roles are wound with equal precision.

With the wisdom of her mentor Jimmie Langton (Michael Gambon) in her head, diva of the London stage circa 1938 Julia Lambert (Annette Bening) thrills the audience of her latest play. Feeling exhausted, she musters the energy to waylay her husband, well-intentioned theater producer Michael Gosselyn (Jeremy Irons) into closing the show so she can let herself go over a holiday, eating potatoes and drinking beer. Julia’s vanity makes her oblivious to how this might impact her loyal assistant Evie (Juliet Stevenson) or devoted investor Dolly de Vries (Miriam Marygolyes). She begrudges her husband by accompanying him to lunch with a young American, the son of a friend of a friend looking to get into the accounting side of the theater business. To her amusement, the penniless Tom Fennel (Shaun Evans) exhibits a wanton lust for the actress despite the 20 years separating their ages.

When Julia’s friend Lord Charles (Bruce Greenwood) deflects her romantic overtures, the lonely diva agrees to meet Tom for tea at his flat. With Jimmie in her ear reminding her what a good fling might do for her stagecraft, Julia falls in love with Tom. Rejuvenated, she changes her mind about closing the play and briefly recaptures her shine onstage. The expensive gifts she showers on Tom push him away until he crushes Julia by admitting he’s fallen in love with another woman, a bland but beautiful young actress named Avice Crichton (Lucy Punch). Under the impression she’s still smitten, Tom manipulates Julia into awarding Avice an audition for her new play. During rehearsals, the cunning diva surprises everyone with her generosity toward the ingenue, but on opening night, reminds London who is truly the greatest actress in town with a different kind of performance.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 1,962 users: 71% for Being Julia

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 65 for Being Julia

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