Inland Empire, Music Box Theater Chicago (Photo credit: lemonkey)
A conversation with the Music Box Theatre’s head projectionist, Doug McLaren, is featured in this week’s Chicago Reader.
Ben Sachs writes, “The Music Box makes a point of showing both new and old films, so the theater has no intention of scrapping its 35-millimeter projectors as many of the multiplexes have.”
What do we make of the coincidences, synchronicities, signs, and symbols that appear in our daily lives?
Just the other night as Chicago’s Grant Park Symphony began its outdoor concert, a very tall woman with very high, tightly curled hair rolled by on her mobility scooter, made a sudden right turn, and parked directly in front of me, unapologetically blocking my view.
The next night, I was watching Donald Sutherland in the 1973 classic thriller DON’T LOOK NOW. He was sporting the same sort of big tight curls that the woman had from the night before.
What did it mean to see two such improbable hair-dos in just 48 hours?
I still am wondering, waiting, and watching.
I had seen the film DON’T LOOK NOW by director Nicolas Roeg almost 40 years ago, and I remembered it mostly for three reasons — (1) there was an incredibly hot sex scene (which is still a hot, by the way); (2) that I didn’t understand what happened; and (3) there was a surprise appearance by a freaky dwarf with freaky makeup.
I wanted to see this movie again because I was recently waxing about the stunning and bright beauty of Venice as it was filmed in the 1955 love story, SUMMERTIME. In DON’T LOOK NOW, I remembered that Venice was portrayed as sinister, dangerous, damp, and dark. Which version of the city was right?
And that is the enigma of the narrative in DON’T LOOK NOW. Which version is right? Do we really understand what we are seeing, what we are experiencing? The story, based on a novella by Daphne du Maurier, reminds us that it’s always smart to beware…that the signs are there. But you just may get them wrong.
In a nutshell, the idyllic marriage of John (Donald Sutherland) and Laura (Julie Christie) is shattered by the drowning death of their daughter. Prior to his daughter’s death, Sutherland’s character has a prescient moment and senses that something bad is about to happen. He is too late.
Fast forward past mourning, and the couple is in Venice where John is overseeing the restoration of a cathedral. They meet a duo of sisters, one of whom is blind and possesses the gift of “second sight.” She feels that Sutherland’s character also “has the gift.” And she understands his struggle with accepting this burden. “It’s a curse and a blessing,” she says. She tells the couple that she sees their deceased daughter, who is now with them, and that the little girl is happy, but her spirit is also warning them to leave Venice. John scoffs. But later, when he does give in to this idea of having “second sight,” his interpretation of what he is seeing is dead wrong. The foreboding image he witnessed at the beginning of the film, which he thought was about the danger facing his daughter, was really about a danger facing him.
The atmosphere, the mystery, and the intrigue make it a pleasure to take a look again at DON’T LOOK NOW.
I just have to figure out what the hair thing is all about…..
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
When I told a friend I was going alone on a trip to Venice this summer, he said, “Oh, you’ll probably have this great affair just like in the movie SUMMERTIME.” I remember laughing and having a vague recollection of Katharine Hepburn falling in love, wandering along the canals of Venice with handsome Italian Rossano Brazzi.
Unfortunately, an affair like theirs didn’t happen to me when I was there.
Fortunately, however, this 1955 classic film, directed by David Lean, perfectly captures the essence of Venice and the experience of being a woman of a certain age traveling alone. I watched this film after my trip. I wish I would have watched it before I went.
The film is a cinematic stunner, a love letter to one of the most romantic and surreal cities in the world. Every scene captures the light, the air, the visual magic of Venice — and also its timelessness. The train speeding across the canal, the jumble of people boarding the water taxis, tourists wandering down the narrow streets, the rows of palaces, the breathtaking expanse of Piazza San Marco, the white coated waiters at the cafes, and of course, the canals and the sparkling water. Nothing much has changed. Venice is the same today as it was in 1955, which is just like Venice was in 1455. It is “The Eternal City.”
And the story of people searching for love is eternal as well.
Miss Hepburn is remarkable in her portrayal of Ohio secretary Jane Hudson. She is a self-sufficient woman, who saved her money so that she could take her dream vacation. With her movie camera in hand, she is spirited and gutsy, beautiful and charming, excited about the adventure that awaits her.
She also realizes there is a bittersweetness attached to solo travel when her landlady asks, “You don’t mind traveling alone?” Jane likes it, she says. She is an independent soul. But there is also a slight sting with the question. It would be better if such a lovely experience could be shared. She is vulnerable, yes. She is open to possibilities.
Hepburn is nervous about her attraction to Brazzi as they first meet at an outdoor cafe. She is drawn to the potential affair but she also resists. When Brazzi tells her that “It’s better to take home more than Venetian glass,” you know that the fireworks will eventually happen. With her free spirit in force, she considers the pro’s and con’s and then goes after what she wants, transformed by the romance that beckons. She buys a lovely pair of impractical shoes, and like Cinderella, she becomes the beautiful princess. Violins play. You root for the both of them.
The only way for their love to remain as eternal as Venice, they have to part. Jane knows that she has a life back in Ohio. And she knows that her lover has a life in Venice. She ends the affair on her own terms.
If I had re-watched this film before I went on my trip, maybe it would have gone differently. I would have stayed longer in Venice. I would have tried harder not to feel so conspicuous and awkward sitting alone in the Piazza San Marco (along with so many other middle-aged ladies). And I would have bought those red shoes that I wanted. Maybe they would have been as magical as the ones that Hepburn’s character buys.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
I don’t really like scary movies. My brain takes them seriously.
Thanks to some long forgotten film, I suffer from an unnatural fear of quicksand (although I’ve never actually even seen quicksand). I worry sometimes about dolls coming alive.
And, of course, thanks to JAWS (1975), I still have a deeply entrenched fear being torn apart by those pesky, jagged teeth of a shark — even when I’m in a freshwater lake.
How can it be that it’s already more than 35 years since I first heard John Williams’ two terrifying musical notes of doom?
It seems impossible that there are still people who haven’t seen this classic film whose promotional poster tells all.
But if you have never seen it or if you haven’t seen it in a long time, it’s time to think about an end-of-summer group watching event. JAWS is frightening and campy and full of howl-inducing fun.
Best yet, just yesterday on August 14, the new Blu-ray version was released as part of Universal’s 100th Anniversary series. The restoration gives the film “the sight and sound that I didn’t get when I made the movie,” says director Steven Spielberg.
The release of the JAWS Blu-ray was also also timed to coincide with the 25th anniversary of the Discovery Channel’s annual celebration of Shark Week.
As a result, shark is totally in the air. It’s time for a shark party.
There are tips on shark drinking games at sites like Brobible. Shark paraphernalia is available at sites like The Jungle Store and Cafe Press. And amazing feats of shark party creativity are rocking the boat on Pinterest.
You can even have your shark spotters take a quiz. There’s a fascinating collection of JAWS trivia on IMDB. (Did you know that Peter Benchley was livid about the ending of the movie? He didn’t think it was believable. Spielberg told him that the audience would believe anything after watching the movie for two hours, even the blowing up of the mechanical shark.)
I’ll still be scared when watching this one, but sort of like being scared with a good friend. JAWS has everything for a chomping good time.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD (1967) contains some of the most memorable scenes in cinema — including suicidal sheep and maniacal casket cracking. This epic love story is a near-perfect convergence of scene, score, story, and performance. The only thing that doesn’t work in this film is Julie Christie’s hair and makeup. Maybe it’s the frosted lip gloss. As in Dr. Zhivago, she just doesn’t quite seem historically accurate, although she is otherwise perfect.
Christie stars as Bathsheba, the unattainable catch of the English countryside, who struggles with her passion and lack of passion for the men in her life: Peter Finch as the desperate suitor, Alan Bates as the regular guy, and Terence Stamp as the hot bad boy. While Bathsheba struggles over finding the right man, she is also rolling up her sleeves to deal with the the trials and tribulations (and joys) of day-to-day farm life. She’s a flirt and a heartbreaker, passionate and vulnerable. She is also smart, powerful, and confident.
The film is based on the book of the same name by 19th century novelist Thomas Hardy. And although I love the book, watching the movie is way, way easier and more satisfying than slogging through Hardy’s heavy prose.
When I read that there was a remake of MADDING CROWD as a “romantic comedy,” I couldn’t help but be curious. The only thing I’m curious about now is that someone thought that might be a good idea.
TAMARA DREWE (2010), starring Bond girl Gemma Arterton, boasts better historically accurate hair, but the film is flat and dull as it traces Ms. Drewe’s quest to find love among her choice of uninteresting village men. So much for a laugh riot take on a classic.
I was so hopeful with the opening of this film, which begins with a classified post advertising a country writers’ retreat that is “Far from the madding crowd.” But the film is all downhill from there. Homage to Hardy abounds — but is it really funny when one of Tamara’s suitors is trampled by stampeding cows? If there were a Monty Pythonian take on it, perhaps.
There are a few clever takes on the classic-to-contemporary theme, like casting a rock star in the role of a typical Hardy bad boy, and instead of misunderstood letters there are missent emails. But if you’re looking for a few romantic comedy laughs, you won’t find them. Better to watch the original drama instead.
Sadly enough, FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD wasn’t released on DVD until 2009, so I think it’s been missed by many home theater fans. The trailer for the film is far from compelling (and you get to see why Julie Christie seems to be a time traveler instead of a 19th century beauty). Nonetheless, if you enjoy period dramas, tragic love stories, rain, and the English countryside, you’ll enjoy FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD. A romantic “comedy” remake of it? Not so much.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
Composer Marvin Hamlisch passed away on Monday, August 6, leaving behind memories of songs like “The Way We Were” and “What I Did for Love,” songs that can still make me instantly weepy, even when I’m annoyed by them.
One of Hamlisch’s earliest uber-dramatic scores was composed for THE SWIMMER (1968). The film, based on a story by John Cheever, is awash with Hamlischian musical interpretations of a variety of human emotions — triumph, distress, tenderness, wonder, grooviness, foreboding, dreaminess, despair. While the emotive bits are mostly over-the-top or silly cliches, there is a lovely Hamlisch theme that survives. It’s a glimpse into the beginning of a legendary career.
In THE SWIMMER, Burt Lancaster is perfectly cast as Neddy Merrill, a virile, proud man in a bathing suit (and for a few minutes, no bathing suit at all) who is on a “vision quest,” attempting a journey home by swimming pool-to-pool and jogging across the pretty backyards of his wealthy Connecticut neighborhood. In between dips, he has time for a few martinis and interactions with his neighbors, all of whom are surprised to see him. Neddy has been gone for a couple of years. We slowly discover he’s not at all who he first seems to be. He admires himself as a man of integrity and strength, and he is reduced to nothing but a big lie.
The film is a visual treat of sixties’ style and an indictment of the shallow people who live in a particular space in time. Neddy, too, is a visual treat, but he’s no prize either. He’s at first charming, but then as his journey continues, we get glimpses into a man with a lost soul. We have some sympathy for him because he has been betrayed by people he loves and there is a heart of gold in there somewhere, but we also learn that Neddy is an opportunist, narcissist, philanderer, a bit of a pervert, potential pedophile and rapist, unknowing racist, and generally delusional loser. He has nowhere to go but down the drain.
The film is filled with unsavory moments, especially between Neddy and his former babysitter, who at least has sense enough to run away from him. But the ultimate creepiness occurs when a guard at a public pool demands that Neddy “spread his toes” so he can inspect them to make sure they’re clean. Neddy simply obeys. It’s a scene that is seriously gasp-inducing. (Wonderfully jarring and groan-worthy moments like these make THE SWIMMER an excellent choice for a group watch.)
An additional reason for watching this film now is that there’s a little homage to the Olympics when Neddy and his former babysitter run some hurdles — in slow motion! — while accompanied by the swelling Hamlisch score.
The ending of this movie will deflate the end of an evening soiree so make sure you have drinks ready to lighten up your audience after Neddy faces his dismal reality in the rain. Everyone will eventually cheer up.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
I visited Colorado’s Mesa Verde National Park many years ago and can still clearly recall the haunting, magical feeling that permeates the air there. Nearly a thousand years ago, the Anasazi ancients abandoned their cliff dwellings and moved on to the spiritual world, but their handprints and their energy remain.
The same sort of transcendent, surreal experience happens when you are touched by the images in the ELECTRIC EDWARDIANS – THE LOST FILMS OF MITCHELL & KENYON (1900). You don’t just watch a collection of old-timey “home movie” clips from the past, you submit to a sort of time travel sorcery of other worldly-proportions.
ELECTRIC EDWARDIANS is a compilation of lost footage that was miraculously found after being stored for 100 years in someone’s basement. During the turn of the century, filmmakers Sagar Mitchell and James Kenyon took to the streets of England and Ireland and captured images of the mundane — people going to work, people walking down the street, people standing around, people cheering at sporting events, children lining up at school. Dreadfully boring, one might understandably think. But in the activities of the every day, there is an ethereal magic. The soundtrack by In The Nursery is impeccable and adds a brilliant dimension to the scenes of daily life in the Industrial Age.
What makes the images so hypnotic is that the individuals being filmed, most of whom probably don’t even know what this thing “film” is, are directly looking into the camera and somehow their souls are being captured in a moment in time for us to meet and connect with.
“Aren’t you a very curious person?” they seem to ask as they look out at us from the screen. And we look back at them in the same curious way.
These clips are mesmerizing, but they are also a bit mournful as well – the people we are watching are gone. But we also are reminded that they once were here. And that’s the mystical part of this viewing experience.
Along the same theme, I was thinking (wrongly) that CAVE OF FORGOTTEN DREAMS (2010) would be a moving and appropriate double bill with ELECTRIC EDWARDIANS. In the trailer, director Werner Herzog says that the spirits of the Cave of Chauvet are so palpable that it is “as if the modern human soul has awakened here.”
Unfortunately, the film just doesn’t quite deliver that sense of spiritual awakening. The famous cave, located in southern France, had been hidden from civilization for eons; a landslide had buried its entranceway. When the cave was discovered in 1994, its perfectly preserved, awe-inspiring ancient paintings and handprints — more than 20,000 years old — open a door to a truly lost world.
This award-winning documentary allows us a peak into this realm, and the scientists and the filmmakers are certainly stirred by their experiences in the cave, on both the academic and metaphysical levels. “A strange, irrational sensation – like eyes upon us,” they say. Here, “time and space lose their meaning.” But the film doesn’t award us, the viewers, with a similarly enchanting experience. We just have to believe them. Frankly, the film is most visually interesting when the stunningly attractive scientists talk about the caves in their French-accented English. Ooh la la.
While CAVE is certainly thought-provoking (albeit way too long), it delivers very little of the soulful punch that the ELECTRIC EDWARDIANS has.
CAVE is worth a watch. ELECTRIC EDWARDIANS is worth watching over and over.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
How do we decide what to watch? That is the question.
You’re making decisions by consensus, but are you collaborating? (Photo credit: opensourceway)
When we’re ready to choose the lineup for a movie night, we can totally roll the dice and end up being pleasantly surprised or gravely disappointed. We can read reviews and get recommendations from our friends or on sites like Home Projectionist, for example. And we can use Netflix and Filmaster, among others, that offer suggestion tools as well.
It’s all part of the quest to find that next great movie to watch.
The new web site FOUNDD not only helps an individual identify a match for what he or she should like, but it also provides the ability for group decision making on the subject.
If I’m hosting an at-home movie night, I just don’t know if I want to base my movie night selections on a collaborative decision-making process.
Recommendation tools are intriguing, and they can lead us to some compelling options. But will algorithms make us lazy? Will they lead us to bad — or worse — boring and safe decisions? Will they limit our ability to evolve our tastes and world views? Will no one ever get the blame for choosing a stinker???
I’m going to be stewing on pro’s and con’s of group decision making when creating a shared experience for an at-home movie night.
What do you think? When you are in the process of selecting the programming for your own home viewing events, would you prefer a collaborative decision process or do you want to retain rights as a benevolent dictator?
VALERIE AND HER WEEK OF WONDERS (1970) is a visual stunner—enchanting, perplexing, and totally entertaining all at the same time.
The film is formally categorized in the fantasy/horror genre but that seems ill-fitting and misleading. Fantasy implies that Valerie is consciously involved in the goings-on; and horror, well, that means scary.
The film is neither. It is, quite simply, a dream–and probably the most pure reflection of a dream in cinema that I’ve ever seen.
By New Wave Czech filmmaker Jaromil Jires, based on a 1935 novel by Vitezslav Nezval, VALERIE is one of those movies that you just surrender to, like you surrender to your dreams. You try to make sense of the narrative, but it’s really not important or even possible. What matters is the mystery and metaphor.
I watched this with friends (and members of the Bleeping Ravenswood Manor Film Society, which is headed up by fellow Home Projectionist blogger John Connors). Both during and after the film, we made periodic attempts to try to make sense of the narrative, but we would just sort of shrug and give up. It was reminiscent of when you try to tell an entire dream to a friend, and you end up saying something along the lines of , “And then I looked up and there was this dead priest hanging out of the window, but then we were suddenly making love in the chicken coop, but I had to leave to help my brother who was tied down in these river rapids,” and your friend listens and nods because you’re telling him about a dream and that’s how dreams go.
The role of young Valerie is played with perfection by a Jaroslava Schallerova. As in a dream, she is present in the story, but at the same time, she is not present and moves through the events as a spectator.
At the opening of her story, Valerie’s magical earrings are stolen (her innocence?), and we also discover that Valerie has had her first menstrual period, an event immortalized by simple drops of blood on a small white flower. Valerie confides what has happened to her stern, uptight grannie.
And that’s when all the “wonders” — both beautiful and diabolical — start to happen.
With Valerie’s induction into this mysterious world of womanhood, her young girl subsconscious swarms with images and traditions that feature the letting of blood — from vampires, of course, to religious ceremonies, hunting, butchering, and losing one’s virginity.
And then there are so many sexual identity questions that arise about who is who and what is what. In this dream, shapeshifting is a matter of course. Grannie goes vampire to regain her youth and fulfill her repressed sexual desires. And Eagle — her brother/her lover! her brother/her lover! — needs her to rescue him from his bondage encounters while at the same time he becomes Valerie’s rescuer as well.
In and around Valerie’s journey, there are shirtless dancing boys, bare-breasted and writhing wenches, happy acrobats and nuns, a lesbian encounter with a newlywed, some fun self-flagellation, lots of lascivious fruit eating, and a jumble of other erotic scenarios, each one gorgeously composed and shot, especially with the compelling, strategic use of overhead angles.
But through it all, Valerie remains unscathed, even from the threats of being raped by a pedophile priest and being burned at the stake as a witch, because she is protected by her magical “pearl” and later, her recovered magical earrings that somehow end up on the corpse of a weasel who is her father but not her father but whatever….it’s a dream.
What is incredibly interesting to me is that this film worked as a home theater event. It is spellbinding, but also lends itself to a few wisecracks and comments here and there that create the kind of camarderie that happens when a good film watching “shared experience” goes on in the living room.
In an unplanned late-night add-on selected by John Connors, we watched NIGHT MONSTER (1942), featuring Bela Lugosi in a hang-around role as the shifty-eyed butler. Just by serendipity, the film opens with a housekeeper cleaning blood off a staircase. What an odd coincidence, having just seen VALERIE open with the image of blood. But the blood in this film isn’t the stuff of a young girl’s first period. It turns out to be some inexplicable bleeding from the stumps of a diabolical amputee who has learned to spiritually conjure up legs. This film features a lot of swirling fog, off-camera screams, way too many murders, and a swami with a skeleton friend.
NIGHT MONSTER was a surprisingly appropriate selection for a double feature. But the dreamy non-narrative of VALERIE made much more sense.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
While we were watching fireworks this last Fourth of July weekend, scientists around the world were swilling champagne, celebrating the official detection of the Higgs boson. It’s a very big deal. The Higgs is a subatomic particle that gives mass to the universe. Without it, nothing would exist.
The discovery happened in Switzerland at CERN, the European Organization for Nuclear Research — and not at U.S.-based Fermilab, where scientists had been relentlessly dedicated to the quest for the Higgs.
If you’re up for a proud nerd night at home, The Atom Smashers (2008) provides an inside look at how scientists in Illinois were trying to beat the clock and discover the Higgs before CERN could do it.
Who knew there was so much drama in the world of physics?
The Atom Smashers was produced by Chicago’s 137 Films organization, a group dedicated to “creating films out of the stories found in the world of science.” With this documentary, 137 Films succeeds in creating a tale compelling enough that I just may try to read “Physics for Non-Scientists” one more time.
Whatever hesitation I had about a watching a film about super colliders faded to black as soon as the quirky techno opening music began. The soundtrack, by composer Kate Simko, provides a sort of magical segue into the film, where Fermilab looms, surrounded by a herd of buffalo and cracked pavement. It doesn’t seem an inspirational place. The environment actually looks a little sad, with its ’60s-era wood panelling and drop ceilings. The scientists’ offices are small and rickety. This is the home of groundbreaking research?
We are introduced to a cast of characters who are intriguing, incredibly smart (of course), and, well, extremely likable, if not even lovable. They are working together toward a “discovery of a lifetime,” yet they still find time for diversions like their tango club, writing rock music with lyrics based on Unix programming commands, and finding romance.
I became instantly and absolutely smitten with Leon Lederman, Nobel Laureate and director emeritus of Fermilab, with his bright-eyed curiosity and excitement about the Higgs work. A flashback clip of a young Lederman on the Phil Donahue show (!?!) congenially discussing particle physics and defending its cost to the American taxpayer made me long for those days when television talk went far beyond what’s-new-with-the-Kardashians.
I now understand how a particle accelerator works!
I also know how to pronounce boson. It rhymes with “hose on,” not “possum.”
The race to find the Higgs accelerates as do the demands made upon the Tevatron accelerator itself (faster! faster!). And while the velocity of the research expands, federal budget cuts loom and the Tevatron operations at Fermilab are scheduled to close. Layoffs begin; scientists start to seek new opportunities. In spite of all of the forces at odds with their quest, the determination of the scientists prevails. (Unfortunately, while we watch, we feel a little beaten, knowing that, in the end, CERN will succeed.)
Upon this year’s celebration of the Higgs, Paul Tipton, professor of physics at Yale University, wrote, “As exciting as this discovery is, and as meaningful as it is to the field of physics, the broader lessons of this human endeavor should not be lost on us…The Higgs discovery also represents a triumph of human curiosity. “
And also, if I may sound corny, it represents the power of the human spirit. The Atom Smashers is a gem of a film giving an inside look into a world of intense curiosity, painstaking commitment, and human collaboration that few of us will ever know.
Get a copy of The Atom Smashers from www.137films.org. 
A story about nuns setting up a school and hospital in the Himalayas? Yes, it sounds dreadful.
But when the nuns meet up with the tanned, hunky government official, who happens to be wearing a chest-baring shirt and short shorts, you know something’s going to go down.
BLACK NARCISSUS (1947), from awarding-winning director-writer team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, is absolutely delicious to watch (with gorgeous cinematography by Jack Cardiff). What makes this film so much fun to show for an at-home movie night is that it’s serious, melodramatic, nonsensical, and thrilling all at the same time.
The drama ensues on the grounds of an improbable and imposing monastery perched on the edge of a 9,000-foot cliff. To add to the intrigue, we find out that the monastery previously housed the king’s concubines in secret, sensually painted rooms, which are now guarded by a mad woman.
It turns out that the monastery itself becomes one of the most formidable characters driving the story forward. In addition to the monastery, the stellar cast also includes Deborah Kerr as the conflicted sister, David Farrar as the hot guy in town, Kathleen Byron as the mad-as-a-hatter nun, and Jean Simmons and Sabu as the weirdly matched young local couple.
When I first heard the name of the film, I didn’t get it, given that my knowledge of horticulture is sorely lacking. I came to learn that Black Narcissus is a flower, known for its intoxicating scent and also its potential toxicity. I don’t think the name of this film would ever get through a marketing department these days because of its abstractness, but now I can’t imagine the film with any other title.
Promotions for BLACK NARCISSUS proclaimed: “Drama at the top of the world … where winds of the exotic past sweep men and women to strange and fascinating adventure…” The language is as over the top as the film, which is available on Criterion Blu-ray (with engaging extra features).
I always love themed Home Projectionist events, and the setting of this film gives a big range opportunities for Himalayan hosting.
Foodwise, I would just order carry out from a local Himalayan restaurant (because I probably wouldn’t find yak or goat at my local grocery and I really do love goat.) But nonetheless, there are less exotic options available if you’re inclined to follow recipes. For starters, check out authentic and easy recipes at Nepali Food.
Secondly, add some mysterious lighting with Himalayan salt lights. (You can get them at Target!) And you can even use frozen Himalayan salt cups to serve cocktails.
If you’re still not sure you can convince your company that a movie about nuns is a must-see, you can send ’round the YouTube clip below with your invitations.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
The constant and breathtaking innovation in projection and display technologies is mind boggling and happening faster than the speed of light. The flexible, stretchable glass display technologies will surely impact the way we live our daily lives in ways we can’t even imagine — and , of course, the way we watch movies at home. And then there’s the sort of loopy, fun — and my personal new favorite — the outdoor inflatable movie screen. Some are four stories high, and some can be used in your own backyard.
Screen Size (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Refreshingly opposite the high-tech screen, there are still ways to have your own in-home big screen by doing it yourself. YouTube has an array of videos on ways to craft your own screen on a super tight budget, by constructing one with canvas and pvc pipe to using screen paint on plain old drywall.
Innovation thrives no matter where you are, from Silicon Valley to your own basement.
From the simple:
To the sublime:
What is it in our collective DNA that makes us like bumbling spies so much? The Agent-Without-a-Clue is an enduring force in the movies, from which many sequels have been spawned. There’s Natasha and Boris from the old Rocky & Bullwinkle show to the contemporary Austin Powers.
And there’s also Hubert Bonissuer de la Bath, alias French Agent OSS 117 — alias Jean Dujardin.
The world (myself included) fell in love with Jean Dujardin last year for his Academy Award-winning lead role in THE ARTIST (2011). And when I discovered that Dujardin and The Artist’s director and writer Michel Hazanavicius had teamed up earlier to create two throwback spy movies, they were on the “must watch” list in seconds.
The first, OSS 117: CAIRO, NEST OF SPIES (2006) takes Dujardin’s thick-headed but oh so debonair Hubert to Egypt to take on the task of “straightening out” the Middle East.
The film has all the standard spy send-up elements, including the beautiful female agent and super villains. It’s silly and totally entertaining, with a number of laugh out loud and did-he-really-say that politically incorrect lines. I didn’t get all the French colonialism jokes, but no matter. NEST OF SPIES is great fun.
And the follow-up feature, OSS 117: LOST IN RIO (2009) is just as satisfying, taking us to South America for some Nazi-hunting with the continuing clueless and incredibly stylish playboy spy. The sight gags and groan-inducing laughs continue, but this time with extra and effective visual tricks with the split screen, gorgeous scenery, a hippie orgy (which is funny but a bit disappointing nonetheless), and the tropical sounds of bossa nova. How can you go wrong?
With these two OSS films as testing ground, you can see how the Hazanavicius team, including Bérénice Béjo, were able to perfect the homage film we saw in THE ARTIST. They have imitation down as the sincerest form of flattery.
One of the best things about being a Home Projectionist is designing your night’s programming, and I am still torn about which OSS I would show on an upcoming spy night. For me, I think two OSS films in a row would be overkill. I would rather fill out the night with a classic Spy V. Spy cartoon, a Get Smart episode, and then most likely, LOST IN RIO.
And during cocktails — both before the screening begins and when the watching is over — there’s so much fabulous ’60s music to play.
Remember to wear something fabulous. 
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
To sit or not to sit, that is the question.
It seems there is a new addiction: Binge Watching. It’s been brought about by a convergence of video streaming technology, peer-to-peer influence, and compelling narratives found in shows like “Breaking Bad” and “Mad Men.” According to a recent article in the Wall Street Journal, our newly evolved propsensity for devouring shows in one sitting has huge implications for the entire industry — from the writers to the producers to the distributors — and for our well being.
According to psychiatrist Norman Doidge, author of “The Brain That Changes Itself,” noted in the same article, “We get into something akin to a trance with great storytelling.” We’ve probably all had the experience: The longer we are steeped in story, the more it becomes real. The more we want to know what happens next.
But what makes our brain happy when we’re watching something on the screen doesn’t necessarily do much for our life span.
A report recently issued by BMJ Open, an online medical research journal, indicates that our life expectancies can be cut by years if we sit down for more than three hours a day.
I’m thinking if I sit down in the morning to drink some coffee, sit down for lunch and dinner, and for just an hour or two at the computer — let alone trying to get in a movie or two — I’m really headed toward an early demise.
What does the future hold for our living rooms and home theaters? Will treadmills one day be required? I think that might make our brains sad.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
Nothing says summer like “road trip,” and nothing beats a road-trip-gone-wrong movie for summertime viewing.
For a comedy, you can’t beat a hilarious classic like THE LONG, LONG TRAILER, following Lucy and Desi on a cross-country misadventure in their oversized motorhome.
On the other side of the spectrum are the summer thrillers. One of my favorites is JEOPARDY (1953). It’s suspenseful, it’s sexy, and it stars the stellar Barbara Stanwyck. Stanwyck plays a perfectly lovely wife and mother … who exposes quite a sultry edge when she happens upon an escaped convict.
Stanwyck and with her husband (Barry Sullivan) and their young son set off in the family convertible, exit the highway, and end up on a deserted dusty road on their way down the Baja Peninsula in search of a beautiful beach that her husband fondly recollects from his childhood. Unfortunately, when they arrive at the beach, the area is abandoned and foreboding, no longer the paradise that Sullivan recalls from his youth. The twists and turns begin.
Sullivan spends most of his time in the film trapped by timber under a fallen piece of pier. The tide is rising and Stanwyck heads for help, leaving her son behind to comfort his father. As the tide rises, so does the tension, including the sexual tension that happens when Stanwyck meets up with the very dangerous (and very hot) Ralph Meeker. And there’s slapping involved!!!
This film is custom-made for a Home Projectionist event. It’s not only seriously riveting but it also provides lots of opportunities for your viewing companions to participate with “Don’t go in the shed!” kinds of comments. The Mexican beach setting makes for an easy theme approach to food and drink. And, this film is seriously short. Clocking in at only 69 minutes, you can start it after the summer sunset and watch outside.
Other people’s disastrous road trips can be great fun. Pour the margaritas and let the armchair adventures begin.
Gloria Bowman is a writer, storyteller, blogger, movie lover, freelance editor,
and author of the novel, Human Slices.
Access her blog at www.gloriabowman.com; on Twitter @GloriaBow
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