Pretend it was the pre-Covid New York City

In Pretend It’s a City, Netflix’s new seven-part series about famed New York raconteur and wit Fran Lebowitz (the first time I’ve binge watched a Netflix series) all I could think about was the irony of the subject matter. Lebowitz, for those who may not know, made a huge splash back, oh, some 40 years ago with books Metropolitan Life and Social Studies. A sort of modern-day Dorothy Parker and Oscar Wilde (she even looks like him) rolled into one, Lebowitz offered her observations on the mores and morals of contemporary society. With her acerbic wit it wasn’t always pleasant, at least for those she targeted. But in many ways, she was so right on. Now. finally, there is a video series about her, an enduring (though not endearing) character who still pops up on late night TV and the lecture circuit. Lebowitz is as wittily observant as ever. The problem is this series is meant to be a paean to New York. Unfortunately, it was recorded in 2019 on the verge of the Covid-19 pandemic. Releasing it now screams irony. In the series, Fran is both dissing on NY’s absurd idiosyncrasies and praising the city’s enduring characteristics, a place like no other. But Covid has now turned NYC into a ghost town, slaughtered thousands of people, decimated its storied restaurant and cultural scenes, and turned bustling streets into desolate alley ways. Despite this untimely incredible irony, the series is worth watching because it’s still, well, all about Fran, and Lebowitz is unceasingly interesting, no matter the context. The series' “Pretend” title? It's the scoffing remark Lebowitz, the diehard New Yorker, made to the scads of (then) tourists who stopped mid-sidewalk to admire buildings. “Pretend it’s a city!” she'll scold. Her buddy, acclaimed filmmaker Martin Scorsese, who produced the series, interviews Fran at Manhattan’s The Players Club. Her bon mots are interspersed with scenes of Fran walking around the city, often stopping to look at the little-known bronze plaques embedded in sidewalks in front of major landmarks. Lebowitz has always come off as, er, politically incorrect. Though a political liberal she takes aim at a myriad of so-called progressive ideas: her abhorrence for turning streets into patios, and ubiquitous cyclists. “It’s an astonishment to me that everyday tens of thousands of people aren’t slaughtered in the streets of New York." On cellphone users (she doesn't own): “The only person looking where she’s going is me.” On her anger at NY spending millions on subway station art when the rickety subway itself is falling apart. Beyond her city observations, Lebowitz delves into culture, sports and other subjects. On smoking bans: “Do you know what artists sitting around in bars and restaurants talking and drinking and smoking is called? The history of art.” Fran also “hates” sports. She mocks fans who personify their teams. “’We Won!’...They won, you lay on the sofa drinking beer.” Watching the series is like having a pitcher of cold water splashed in your face as Lebowitz buzzsaws through contemporary fads and accepted wisdom. Pretend It’s a City is music for the ears and balm for the eyes of a – with Covid-19, possibly long gone? – New York City.

A 'Rear Window' on to the human experience

 So, I watched for, um, maybe the 15th time, my favorite Alfred Hitchcock movie, 1954’s Rear Window. I learned from TCM host Dave Karger that the film, set quite convincingly in Lower Manhattan, actually used the biggest Paramount set ever built – with some 60 apartments - to create the downtown New York vibe. The film resonates with lots of wider themes about urban alienation and Peeping Toms or neighborly “spying” (maybe some of that is going on during Covid-19?). And it’s also a love story between Jeff Jefferies (James Stewart) and Lisa Fremont (Grace Kelly – was there ever a more beautiful woman?). But the nub of the story is of course a murder mystery. The “Peeping Tom” in this case is Jefferies, holed up in his apartment with a broken leg after being injured as a photojournalist shooting a car race, his camera also convincingly smashed. Jefferies’ apartment overlooks a courtyard surrounded by various apartment buildings offering a bird’s eye view of its colorful inhabitants. Hence, with not much better to do, Jefferies finds himself following the actions of his neighbors. Admonishes his caregiver, Stella (Thelma Ritter) in homespun wisdom, “we’ve become a race of Peeping Toms.” The neighbors in fact make a fanciful collage: Miss Toros (Georgine Darcy) a shapely dancer, Miss Lonelyhearts (Judith Evelyn) who can’t find a man, the frustrated songwriter (Ross Bagdasarian), and Lars Thorwald (Raymond Burr). It is Thorwald who most piques Jefferies interest. One day Thorwald’s invalid wife is in the apartment and the next day she isn’t. And Thorwald is seen carrying out various suitcases.  Yes, the murder mystery is the film’s nub. But it’s the overall atmosphere and sub stories which, for me, are just as interesting and make the film. This studio set has all the earmarks of a real neighborhood, with the rumble of traffic on the streets, children's playing voices, music streaming from open windows, even ships’ horns throbbing from New York harbor. Most noticeable is the composer’s scores and other songs (Mona Lisa, To See You Is to Love You, That’s Amore) but always indistinctly echoing from a distance. Franz Waxman’s opening and closing swirling jazz score is playful yet mysterious. And the intriguing sub stories? Miss Lonelyhearts – neurotic there is no man in her life with her make believe and ill-fated dates. Miss Toros – the shapely beauty whose true love is not anyone you might expect but is only oh so true. The songwriter character is at turns frustrated yet a bonhomie. And then there is the yin yang of Jefferies and Fremont’s relationship. She, a fashionista and toast of Park Avenue and he, a dungaree wearing globe trotting photographer. ”Those high heels, they’ll be a hit in the jungle,” he scoffs at her seeming incompatibility. So, while Rear Window is a murder mystery it works on a much wider scale, depicting the tapestry of life – human successes and failures, the juxtaposition of character types - all surrounded by the quotidian of daily experience.   

Woody's memoir insightful, honest, a joyful ramble

Filmmaking is “not rocket science” Woody Allen says in his new book Apropos of Nothing (Arcade Publishing). In it, Allen takes numerous digs at himself and his chosen profession. But first you must understand he’s anything but an intellectual. Though beloved by the artsy set – and after all most of his films have some “intellectual” component whether quoting philosophers or musing on the more esoteric qualities of life – Allen dispenses of any pretense. He calls such a description “phony” for he has “no intellectual neuron in my head.” He’s considered an egghead because he wears “black horn-rimmed glasses” and has a “flair for appropriate snippets from erudite sources too deep for me.” Admittedly Allen did dip into the Great Books but pleads it was only “so I wouldn’t seem a dodo to the women I liked.” Allen, one of the greatest directors of our times, is befuddled by his own stature. He likens his “genius” to the head of the local PTA, hardly the level of a Mozart. Personality wise he is “extremely uninteresting, shallow and disappointing.” What, prey tell, about his film technique? “I shoot carelessly and irresponsibly" and his acuity is that “of a failed ejected film major.” So how does he actually create his films? He simply intuitively knows what he likes and shoots it. He never does rehearsals. He works 9 to 5, usually with one scene takes, so everyone can go home – or to the former restaurant Elaine’s – for dinner. He never watches his films once they’re complete. He just moves on to the next project and artistic challenge. He is amazed that someone like film great Italian director Fellini would want to meet a “schmuck like me.”  You’d be surprised what Allen thinks of his films. Manhattan (1979), a huge hit, he wanted to “scrap.” The praise for Annie Hall (1977) made him “suspect of its quality.” Yet a less praised film like Stardust Memories (1980) “gave me a great sense of achievement.” About 75 pages is given over to the infamous allegations of sex abuse of Mia Farrow’s adopted child Dylan. He rests his innocence on two police investigations, and a lie detector test, that found no abuse. He writes in considerable detail how Mia turned from him after they conceived their child, Satchel. She kept Satchel from him with her” unnaturally obsessed behavior” including prolonged periods in her bedroom “forever alone” with the child. As for another of Mia’s adopted children, Soon-Yi, who would become Allen’s wife, Allen sets the record straight. She was never underage, as Mia claimed, but 22. His famed quote “the heart wants what it wants” was him echoing Saul Bellow echoing Emily Dickinson. Allen remains impervious to criticism, whether of his films or him personally. He hones to his own critical and moral compass. He knows he did nothing wrong. “I never abused anyone in my life.” Meanwhile, throughout this otherwise joyfully rambling memoir there are fascinating glimpses of show business personalities and delightful gossip, including being intimidated by actress Judy Davis and his dislike for Vivian Vance and Peter Sellers. His biggest regret? That “I’ve been given millions to make movies, total artistic control and I never made a great film.”

Sing Auld Lang Syne and watch Dinner for One

 And now, just in time for New Year’s Eve, you must watch Dinner for One. This roughly 15-minute film (there are different cuts) is virtually unknown in North America. But it is a huge, HUGE, hit in Germany and some other European countries. It is watched almost religiously by perhaps half the German nation every New Year’s Eve. And its refrain “same procedure as every year” has entered the popular German vocabulary - in figures of speech, headlines, even political debates. It’s rather a silly and yet extremely charming sketch. Two English actors, Freddie Frinton and May Warden, play butler James and aged dowager Miss Sophie. Sophie has invited four of her closest friends to dinner only she doesn’t remember that they have died long ago. James fills in for them, adapting the mannerisms of each guest while also serving the meal’s courses and, of course, drinks. Each time he makes the rounds there is a toast, and you can image what takes place, increasingly hilariously, as the dinner proceeds. Dinner for One was written almost a century ago by Lauri Wylie and revived (in its original English) for German television in 1963. It has since become a cultural institution, as symbolic of New Year’s Eve as watching the ball drop (this year without crowds) and singing Auld Lang Syne. And many other Nordic European countries have also picked up the sketch. In fact, it’s now the most re-broadcast television program in history. So, tomorrow night, join tens of millions of people (mostly European) around the world, and watch this zany, absurd comedy for the ages. Who knows, maybe it will become a world viewing tradition yet.

Film clips - Cruise's tantrum, Woody's New York and movie characters never use the bathroom

The year 2020 is coming to an end and I haven’t been inside a cinema since March…..Disappointed by Turner Classic Movies (TCM) website redesign. As often happens when web sites are supposedly made “better” it’s the opposite. Pages can take up to a minute to load…..Tom Cruise’s temper tantrum on the set of the latest Mission Impossible schlock film? Ya, I can understand his impatience with people breaking Covid protocols on set but then again his crew is allowed to work while hundreds of thousands of small businesses aren’t. Figure this: he has his own money invested in the project, he can easily jet home stateside for Christmas, and now several people on the set have quit in disgust. There’s even a conspiracy theory: his tantrum leaked to create movie publicity…….Steven Soderbergh’s latest No Sudden Move stars Don Cheadle, Benicio del Toro, Jon Hamm, Ray Liotta. It’s the crime world of 1950s racially charged Detroit……The title of the – continually – release-delayed new Bond film No

Time to Die? How apropos for the times.....Speaking of, since March New York City has descended into a dystopian nightmare, being the early epicenter of Covid deaths, then Antifa and Black Lives Matter-related rioting following George Floyd’s death, soaring crime, and one of the harshest restaurant lockdowns in the US in a city where dining is synonymous with living. So, it makes me wonder how Woody, as in Allen, feels these days about his beloved metropolis, so evocated in films like Manhattan (1979) and even this year’s A Rainy Day in New York. He must be crying into his bucket hat……Has anyone else noticed that in every film, no matter when made, whenever a character is carrying a suitcase, it seems as lightweight as a feather? Has anyone also noticed that you can watch thousands of movie scenes and there is never, ever, a situation where a character actually has to use the bathroom? Except, that is, for bygone female characters to powder their noses and tough guys to snort cocaine or beat the living daylights out of someone. But not, you know, to use them for what they were designed for.

Local film notes: Windsor filmmaker Otto Buj, a founder of the Windsor International Film Festival (WIFF), has a new film about Detroit’s early 1980s punk music scene, and Windsor’s contribution to it. Dope, Hookers and Pavement premiered this fall at Detroit’s Freep Film Festival and will have its Windsor (Canadian) premiere in the new year……And Windsor’s Media City Film Festival, one of the world’s most critically acclaimed avant-garde festivals, started in 1994, is making its catalogue of films available online. The THOUSANDSUNS CINEMA - some 60 films – is available through Dec. 23.

Cary Grant is breaking out all over

Cary Grant has always been one of my favorite actors. Suave, debonair. oozing class, and the gentleman’s gentleman. Come to think of it they really don’t make them quite like that anymore. So, I’m happy to say that over the last two weeks my life has been deluged with Cary Grant one-thing-or-another. It started off with reading a review of what sounds like an exceptional new biography Cary Grant: A Brilliant Disguise by Scott Eyman. A night or two later I turn on TCM and there’s Eyman chatting with host Ben Mankiewicz in between a double feature of Grant and Ingrid Bergman’s Indiscreet (Stanley Donen 1958) and Grant and Doris Day’s A Touch of Mink (Ron Jeremy 1962). Then I get a Criterion Channel email announcing a whole slate of Cary Grant films they're showing this month. Wow! So, I caught Grant’s supposed breakout comedy The Awful Truth with Irene Dunne (Leo McCarey 1937), then The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (Irving Reis 1947) (top photo) and, by coincidence, last night on TCM, Grant and Rosalind Russell’s His Girl Friday (Howard Hawks 1940) (bottom photo). Grant’s roles in Indiscreet and A Touch of Mink were the more “mature” Grant I knew best, the aging but charming romantic dreamboat - the idealized older man - which we’d also seen in movies like Charade (Stanley Donen 1963) with Audrey Hepburn and North

by Northwest (Alfred Hitchcock 1959) with Eva Marie Saint. The earlier films showed a still unmistakable Grant but obviously younger and fresh or fresher from his stage work in Vaudeville. Thought I knew he’d worked on stage in the 1920s – he was also a juggler - it was in these early films you actually see the physical versatility, indeed, slapstick. Lithe, with an immensely correct posture, Grant could collapse into all arms and legs, like when he quickly tranforms into an adolescent hot rodder picking up puppy love teenage Shirley Temple in Bobby-Soxer. Or, when he takes part in an obstacle race in the same movie. When it comes to script, Grant’s characters can be immensely witty but in a droll sort of way. Not so in His Girl Friday where, as a tough as nails newspaper editor he verbally dukes it out in amazing spirals of witty repartee with co-actor Rosalind Russell and a collection of newsroom misfits. So, from the 1930s through 1960s, we catch glimpses of Grant’s multi-dimensional roles. And give credit to the actresses. Irene Dunne is attractively brainy, Rosalind Russell sharp as tacks, Myrna Lou (in Bobby-Soxer) seductively intelligent, and Shirley Temple, the more mature version of the adorable child actor. As for Grant he’s simply an actor for all time. 

On the Wuhan China Covid front lines

 

Yes, we’ve lived through the Covid-19 pandemic nine months now and we might be beyond exhausted by this beyond distressing topic. But the virus’s original outbreak was in Wuhan China, a time when the rest of the world thought was a particular and strange virus confined only to that country. Foreign news reports showed a city we’d never heard of totally locked down, neighborhoods cut off by blue fences, crews in hazmat space suits roaming streets with disinfectant blowers. And while the virus has since spread worldwide numbing our senses the source of Covid-19 can still hold fascination, if only because the Chinese experienced it before anyone else. The documentary 76 Days (opening today virtually at the Detroit Film Theatre and Cinema Detroit) takes us deep into those front lines, literally into four Wuhan hospitals, with intimate and uncomfortable footage showing what it was like in hospital wards when people were increasingly being admitted with this strange and unpredictable disease. The first scene opens with a woman writhing in anguish as she’s prevented from visiting her dying father. “You’ll forever live in my heart!” she wails. In another scene, hospital staff try to open a door where a group of people are pressing in to be admitted. They’re admonished – “we’ll get to you eventually!” The scenes are punctuated by lone ambulances travelling though a surreal cityscape. The film’s chronology seems a microcosm of the pandemic itself. Eventually the wards settle down as patients are admitted and treated individually. There are four or five patients we follow. Most are aged and the staff have a habit of calling them “grandpa” or “grandma.” One unruly patient is referred to as a “Hubei (province) Local,” a rube. “Bloody big deal,” he scoffs at the virus. A nurse jokes that if he lives longer, he’ll have “even more bliss” with additional family generations. Another patient remarks,” this place is not bad, free medication and hot meals.” But a woman patient gradually deteriorates. “She used to always hold by hand,” a nurse says. Her bracelet is slipped off and saved in a plastic bag with her phone and identity card, eventually given to her weeping daughter. Almost every scene is set in the ICU with staff photographed as they scramble amidst chaos to intubate or set up IV lines. One nurse is philosophical. “Rich or poor, revered or despised, fate befalls all.” While 76 Days, which refers to Wuhan’s total lockdown earlier this year, has three directors, only two – Weixi Chen and “Anonymous” (to protect his identity in China) – had access to the hospitals, sometimes surreptitiously, with the aid of hospital staff who wanted to show the world what Wuhan was facing. Lead director Hao Wu remained back in the US as the pandemic descended on North America. He calls the footage, which he edited, “raw, intimate and deeply human.” Yes, it is.