Juzo Itami’s penultimate film Supermarket Woman has all the hallmarks of a movie intentionally trying to position itself for cult classic adoration from its quirky premise to the film’s comic book-like aesthetic in terms of both its visuals as well as the comiclly clear-cut distinction of good-guys and bad-guys. Above all, Supermarket Woman feels like a film in which its visual motifs were created with the intention of selling real-world merchandise. I’d happily buy t-shirts with the logos of fictional supermarket rivals Honest Mart and Discount Demon.
The noble but failing Honest Mart is struggling against its absurdly evil rival Discount Demon, a supermarket run like a militaristic operation out of Imperial Japan (with their business meetings emitting strong Yakuza vibes). Discount Demon is the Chum Bucket to the Krusty Krab or Mondo Burger to Good Burger, thus it takes the ever-fabulous Nobuko Miyamoto as Hanako Inoue to use her womanly, housewife intuition to reinvigorate Honest Mart. Miyamoto’s impeccable comic timing both physical and verbal has a real sense of contagious enthusiasm. Much of the sheer fun within Supermarket Woman comes from the screwball comedy-like antics of Hanako and her co-workers as they try to please customers and right various wrongs, from gathering hoards of shopping carts left in the parking lot to dealing with frustrated Karens on the verge of asking for the manager. Equally as memorable is Miyamoto’s wardrobe of bright, contrasting colours. Even when she wears an informal blazer it is accompanied alongside tartan trousers and sneakers, in keeping with a character who never takes herself too seriously.
Just how accurate a reflection is Supermarket Woman of Japanese commerce in the post-bubble 1990s? It is unique to observe a wholly independent supermarket that doesn’t trade under a franchise name (something which I’ve never even seen in my own country). This is emblematic of the world Supermarket Woman inhabits, one which presents Japanese supermarkets like the Wild West with the absence of any legal regulations or government oversight. Discount Demon is determined to eliminate the competition so they can raise prices, while both outlets engage in actions such as repacking food with a new expiry date, mixing meats and passing them off as more expensive cuts and even falsely advertising imported meat as being home-breed Japanese.
The exterior and interior of Honest Mart is a world of unbridled, Americana-inspired artifice with its frequent use of checkered patterns and bright colours (in particular the film’s prominent use of pink and red) as well as a general warm and fuzzy atmosphere. To accompany this is the film’s soundtrack to consumer capitalism – stereotypically, catchy department store music by composer Toshiyuki Honda. Can any lost media sleuths track down an isolated version of the score? As far as weirdly specific film accolades go, Supermarket Woman is the 2nd best Supermarket-themed film I’ve ever seen. The top spot goes to oddly enough, another Japanese film, Mikio Naruse’s Yearning (1964). Recommend for a slightly more unorthodox double-feature experience.
Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, one of the most fascinating disasters in film history. There are bad movies which are straight-up boring, others are cringe-worthy and/or unpleasant to watch, while others fall into the category of being so bad they’re good. For this infamous production made at the madhouse that was Cannon Films, where does Christopher Reeve’s final outing as the Man Of Steel fit in among the pantheon of notorious cinematic failures?
So what is the explosive, hot-button main theme in the fourth instalment of the Superman film franchise? Well no need to fallout as you try to guess, it’s the nuclear arms race! So bear in mind this isn’t just Superman IV, no this is Superman IV: The Quest For Peace. A motion picture dealing with a topic so important that the powers at be gave the film a subtitle, whereas the previous films in the series had been given no such ovation. When listening to the DVD audio commentary for Superman IV by one of the film’s two writers, Mark Rosenthal (which I do highly recommend listening to), Rosenthal states that the plot of Superman IV stems from the idea that if God is an all-benevolent and all-powerful then why does he let bad things happen? Thus, if Superman is all-powerful, why does he allow bad things to happen? However, when thinking about this for more than a few seconds it quickly becomes apparent this notion is nonsensical as Superman is not equivalent to God. He is powerful but not all-powerful, he can’t be everywhere all at once. This shows that while one might argue Superman IV had good intentions behind it, these good intentions were seriously misguided. So why does Superman IV: The Quest For The Remaining Pieces Of Christopher Reeve’s Career choose the nuclear arms race as its main theme? Well, it’s because of Christopher Reeve himself. One of his demands when agreeing to reprise his most famous role was to have creative control over the story. When watching promotional materials for the four Reeve Superman movies, it’s clear the man did take great pride in the role of Superman and cared about the quality of the franchise. Unfortunately, the Film Actor’s Guild from Team America: World Police was in full swing back during the 80’s too, and lefty liberal Christopher Reeve made a Superman movie to act as a platform for his own politics.
The general plot of Superman IV: The Quest For The Remaining Cinematic Integrity Of The Superman Film Franchise sees the Soviet Union overtake the US in the arms race and as a response, a concerned young school boy named Jeremy (Damian McLawhorn in his only on-screen role) writes a letter to the Man Of Steel asking him to rid the world of nuclear arms “because only he can do it”. Ok, number 1, why are you taking moral guidance and advice on geopolitics from a child? Number 2, you do realise if all nuclear weapons were to suddenly disappear then the geopolitical landscape would become highly destabilised? But Number 3, how are you going to get the cooperation of the world’s governments to voluntarily give up their nuclear arsenals? It’s not like Superman is just going to walk into the United Nations and announce he going to rid the world of all nuclear weapons and have the representatives of the Earth’s nations give a huge round of applause and voice no objection whatsoever. Oh wait, that’s exactly what happens. Thus the world’s governments cooperate with Superman as they help him in this process of nuclear disarmament as Supes gathers all of the world’s nuclear missiles, places them into a giant net and then throws said net into the sun. Just how did Superman get a hold of such a net or did he make it himself? Additionally, he does realise throwing hundreds of nukes into the sun doesn’t sound like a very smart or safe idea. The first three Superman movies are full of ridiculous moments but you could gleefully suspend your disbelief at them. Superman IV: The Quest For A Plausible Premise on the other hand is so illogically constructed that it foregoes any such privilege with its moon moving, humans breathing in space, kindergarten levels of science-breaking shenanigans.
Superman IV: The Quest For A Competent Script takes no advantage of its theme of nuclear arms. There’s no political insight or analyses, no thought-provoking debate is brought up as to whether Mutually Assured Destruction is the reason why we have never had World War III. Just a simple “nukes suck” and everyone in the film’s universe agrees so why did we even have them in the first place? I have heard it argued before that Superman IV is a terrible film but it had a good message. No, Superman IV has a terrible message and the one aspect of the film which legitimately enrages me. What Superman is doing is deeply sinister as he is overriding the actions of democratically elected governments yet the film presents it as something oh-so wonderful. One of the many deleted scenes for Superman IV does feature Superman addressing this very point when he tells Jeremy “I’m going to pass the letter onto the leaders of the world, see they’re the ones, not I, who represent the people of the world”. However, the inclusion of this scene in the film would have made it less sensical as Superman just goes on to betray this principle. Betrayed! Betrayed! Betrayed! BETRAYED!
So how do you end this cinematic embodiment of what Thomas Sowell refers to as the unconstrained vision, well with one of the worst lines in film history as Superman proudly and sincerely says in a speech “There will be peace when the people of the world, want it so badly, that their governments will have no choice but to give it to them”. Oh Superman, if only life were that simple. But, it could be even worse! In the film’s deleted, extended ending, Superman once again returns to our young idealistic whip snapper Jeremy and flies him above the Earth (what is it with this movie and humans being able to survive in the vacuum of space?). Once there, he asks Jeremy what he sees so he can tell the people of Earth, to which he gives a response which sounds like a lost verse of John Lennon’s Imagine – “I can’t tell where one country begins and another one ends, there’s no borders, it’ just one world”.
Under the direction of Sidney J. Furie, for the most part, Superman IV: The Quest For A Sustainable Budget is a very bland film for one’s viewing displeasure. Scenes look very flat, the blocking is uninspired and the lighting is often poor. As one of the film’s many, many, many cost-cutting measures, Superman IV was primarily shot in Milton Keynes, a city in Buckinghamshire, England, one of many planned settlements built in the post-war era. With these architecturally contemporaneous developments often looking more like American cities than traditional British towns, Superman IV does convincingly turn merry old England into downtown USA (and humorously so by simply throwing a lone fire hydrant prop here and a hot dog wagon there) but still not in a way that does anything the elevate the bland nature of the film’s visual aesthetic. Superman IV appears to take place in an almost corporate post-apocalyptic world of sterile conference centres. The sets and locations feel very condensed and repetitive and even the offices of The Daily Planet look very generic. You can’t just throw several decals of the newspaper’s logo onto a few windows and expect that to do the job. Additionally, the film’s set design is also subject to much anatopism from subway advertising using the name New York and not the fictional Metropolis to a Daily Planet newsstand using the British-English spelling of “Favourite” over the American “Favorite”. Likewise, the film’s low-budget recreation of the United Nations has the delegate for the United Kingdom whom has a sign on his desk which reads “England”. Oh, you silly Yanks. England is not a country within itself, it is a constituent nation within The United Kingdom Of Great Britain And Northern Ireland. There is no such title as the King/Queen of England or Prime Minister of England. Stop referring to the UK as England. We understand? Ok? Comprende? Capeesh? Regardless, the use of Milton Keynes as a location in Superman IV does appear to be a bit of a claim to fame for the city, with scenes from Superman IV being recreated by various fans and locals at their original locations for the film’s 30th anniversary in 2017. The Milton Keynes Superman IV location-tour anyone?
It takes only a matter of seconds until it is apparent this production is in deep trouble as Superman IV: The Quest For A Decent SFX Team has some of the cheapest-looking opening credits for a major motion picture. At least the title screen has the classic Superman comic book typography if that’s any consolation (these movies did become more pop art as they went along and even the film’s poster is superbly drawn just like a comic book cover).To create a list of all the SFX failures of Superman IV would be a gargantuan task – repeating that same shot of Superman flying towards the screen many times, the lame small-scale recreation of The Fortress of Solitude, the obvious wireframes, the use of the famous image The Blue Marble to represent the Earth or the subway scene in which they resort to using gimmicky edits to create an action scene. Although my favourite special effects failure would have to be the shot of The Statue Of Liberty flying at a 90-degree angle through the Metropolis skyline, I can’t help but chuckle.
Superman IV: The Quest To Occupy 90 Minutes Of Run Time can also lay claim to having the most pointless scene in the history of the art form that is the motion picture. In this scene, Lois visits Clark in his apartment to which Clark says he needs to go outside and get some fresh air. The two walk onto his balcony and Clark pretends he is going to commit suicide by walking off the ledge and taking Lois with him only to then turn into Superman and recreate the romantic flying sequence from the first movie but with the ugliest rear projection you’ve ever seen. Once they return to the apartment, Superman/Clark uses the memory-erasing kiss from Superman II on Lois as if the whole thing never happened. What on under God’s green Earth was the point of that sequence? What was Clark’s motivation for doing this? Was he just bored one day and wanted to use his Superman powers to screw around with Lois for a good laugh? More significantly, why did the filmmakers decide to recreate a bastardised version of one the most magical scenes from the first film and what relevance does this scene have on the rest of the film’s plot? In the words of every wannabe late-2000’s angry YouTube movie critic, “What were they thinking?!”.
But enough negativity! In what ways does Superman IV succeed in a legitimate, unironic way? There are some brief flashes of greatness and interesting ideas within Superman IV which show a movie which could have been. For starters, the legacy cast is as great as ever. Christopher Reeve puts his all into the role of Superman with the same level of sincerity as before (“Stop! Don’t do it, the people!”), not to mention Reeve hasn’t aged a day since the first film back in 1978. The chemistry with the employees at The Daily Planet is as always a joy to watch with that old-school screwball comedy vibe (even if Marc McClure is too old at this point to be playing Jimmy Olsen). While Reeve looks amazing, sadly the same can’t be said for Margot Kidder who is looking very rough this time around. Reportedly the woman has battled many mental health issues throughout the years and sadly the effects of this do show themselves on screen. Regardless, Reeve and Kidder still have that on-screen magic, with the scene in which Lois visits Clark in his apartment while he is suffering from a terrible case of flu being the most touching in the film (interestingly, this is also the first time in the series in which we actually see Clark’s Metropolis residence).
As for new faces, Mariel Hemingway is a welcome addition to the cast and showcases her gifts as a comic actress in the role of Lacy Warfield. The relationship between Lacy and Clark has no real development although Reeve and Hemingway do share a good chemistry making their attraction believable as the bad girl meets the boy scout. I do enjoy their quintessentially 80s scene as the two slide into their lycra and do some aerobics, while the double date screwball comedy sequence is amusing but does feel a bit comically stale (should have had the Benny Hill theme thrown in for good measure). A scene was also filmed in which Clark and Lacy go to a disco of which production photos do exist but sadly it remains unknown if the footage has survived. In the role of Lacy’s father is Sam Wanamaker as the media mogul and obvious Rupert Murdoch stand-in David Warfield. Wanamaker makes Warfield an entertaining caricature with his booming voice while his takeover of The Daily Planet and his attempts to turn the paper into a sleazy, irresponsible tabloid (“We can double our circulation with a good international crises”) is one piece of social commentary which Superman IV performs in a less ham-fisted manner. This plot thread is also visualised through the character of Lacy as she gradually comes to understand the power of journalism with this transformation being illustrated by having Hemingway wear suits with successively smaller shoulder pads. Sadly, this subplot in Superman IV has a very lazy, deus ex-machina conclusion in which Perry White simply announces he has secured a loan to buy a controlling interest in the newspaper thus taking it out of the hands of Warfield. There is no set-up and pay-off leading to this conclusion, rather it just lazily comes out of left field.
Likewise, another subplot which is raised (and this one doesn’t even receive a conclusion), is Clark’s adamant desire to sell the Kent farm to an actual farmer and not to a company looking to build a shopping mall (which does foreshadow The Daily Planet’s corporate takeover). The scene on the Kent farm near the beginning of the film is one of the better and more emotional moments in the film in which they surprisingly do make the English countryside where it was filmed look like rural USA. It has a real sense of reflection for times long gone as the place is no longer used or lived in (plus the baby crib with the broken wood at the foot’s end is a nice touch). Unfortunately, the fate of the farm never comes up again during the rest of the film. Correspondingly, a scene was filmed involving Clark visiting the grave of his adoptive parents in what sounds like could have been a real emotional highlight (Mark Rosenthal does speak highly of it in the audio commentary). Production photos of this scene do exist but sadly the footage has never seen the light of day.
The other major returning cast member in Superman IV: The Quest To Make Superman III Look Decent By Comparison (Well That Is If You’re A Hater of Superman III, I’m A Fan Of It Myself Personally But Whatever) is Gene Hackman as Superman’s most famed nemesis Lex Luthor. Hackman is as enjoyably hammy and charismatic as he was in the first two Superman films and Superman IV even allows him the opportunity to portray Luthor as a Dr Frankenstein-like figure in a scene that feels like it’s straight out of a Universal monster film. Luthor’s layer is even the most dynamic in the film with its art deco design in which he spends his time dancing with a woman dressed as Marie Antoinette (you know, like you do). Luthor’s sidekick this time around is his nephew Lenny Luthor (another original character not from the comics), portrayed by Jon Cryer. Lenny himself increases the movie’s 80’s factor to the most extreme, far out, tubular heights with his New Wave band fashion choices and California surfer dude speak. I get this character annoys many viewers but I get some laughs out of this male equivalent of a valley girl.
Aside from taking out Supes, Luthor wants to reignite the nuclear arms industry but like most aspects of Superman IV, this plot point (you guessed it!) doesn’t make any sense. The movie has already established that the entire world is in unanimous agreement with Superman in regards to him getting rid of the planet’s nuclear arsenal and the world’s governments even aided him in doing this. Thus just how is Lex Baby supposed to reintroduce nuclear arms? We can see him attempting to do so in a deleted scene in which Luthor speaks to the government of the USSR and convinces them that world peace is a capitalistic plot and then subsequently appears before the US government to claim that world peace is a communist plot. I can only speculate as to why this scene was not included in the film as it is fun to watch in isolation but in the wider context of the film it does make the people who inhabit this universe incredibly vulnerable to being easily swayed and manipulated. It’s like that scene in The Simpsons in which Skinner and Krabappel are each trying to convince the children’s parents on what’s more important, their children’s future or tax increases. What is included in the film is Luthor’s honest stated aim, “Nobody wants war. I just want to keep the threat alive”. Well, at least the movie has one pertinent quote concerning the military-industrial complex.
Now let’s get to the real fun part and talk about my boy, Nuclear Man! The poorly thought out and unintentionally hilarious villain in Superman IV, portrayed by Dolph Lundgren lookalike Mark Pillow in his only screen role (an actor with three IMDB acting credits and no Wikipedia page). I’m not going to lie, I love Nuclear Man. Everything about the character screams 1980s with his dripped out black and gold spandex outfit, the lightning animations that travel over his figure, the Southern California hairdo and the most tubular animation of his birth from foetus to a fully blown Adonis. Like Ivan Drago in Rocky IV, every one of his lines is memorable (“If you do not tell me, I will hurt people”, “Destroy Superman!”, “First, I have fun!”), with his booming voice (roars and all) provided by Gene Hackman himself. Due to the sheer enjoyment I get from watching this bombastic bad guy, I can forgive the fact that power-wise, Nuclear Man’s one major weakness is so easily exploitable since he loses his power when he is not in direct sunlight. Likewise, Nuclear Man also has the most glaring non-motivation in the entire film. Due to the sheer amount of material from Superman IV that ended up on the cutting room floor, in the final cut of the film Nuclear Man just randomly looks at a copy of The Daily Planet and sees a picture of Lacy (whom he has no established knowledge off) and thinks “yeah, I want some of that!” and proceeds to kidnap her. Superman tries to stop Nuclear Man and tells him “Give it up, you’ll never find her” in response to Nuclear Man asking “Where is the woman?”. How does Superman know the woman Nuclear Man is talking about? His motivation for kidnapping Lacy is explained in the film’s deleted scenes but it appears someone or something must have thought,” Let’s just skip all the character motivation mumbo jumbo and just get straight to the action scenes!”. Speaking off…
Not the crossover event I was expecting.
Superman IV offers viewers two fights between Supes and Nuclear Man, with both being very slow and mundane. The first is a world-spanning bash of unintentional hilarity as Superman essentially follows Nuclear Man, repairing all the damage he creates from plugging up a volcano in Italy with a giant rock to using his laser vision to repair The Great Wall of China (a random power that came out of nowhere but the stop-motion special effect of the repairing wall looks cool). Likewise, various international cuts of Superman IV also include a sequence in which Nuclear Man creates a tornado which Superman must eliminate, in which the special effects are actually not too shabby. The fight nonetheless concludes in the most pathetic manner, as Nuclear Man uses his fabulous, long, manicured nails to take out Supes. But never fear, as Supes gets his revenge in round 2 as they fight on the Moon in agonising slow motion- It’s so tedious to watch! The two barely even fight, they more so just push against each other – it’s like watching two geriatrics go at it. Regardless, decades on Mark Pillow himself has no embarrassment regarding the character, as evidenced by his entertaining Instagram profile in which he celebrates the bizarre cinematic creation that is Nuclear Man. However, when delving into the treasure trove of deleted scenes for Superman IV: The Quest For What Didn’t Make Into The Final Cut, arguably the most prominent aspect which didn’t make it into the final cut was another Nuclear Man (portrayed by Clive Mantle) originally created Lex Luthor (and subsequently defeated by Superman). I have no love for this Nuclear Man and I fail to see why having two, very different versions of Luthor’s creation was necessary. On top of that, the design of the character is just very unpleasant, looking like an ugly version of Billy Idol and whom bizarrely is born with a metal plate attached to his crouch (an image I’d rather burn from my mind).
The music for Superman IV is actually the one aspect in which the film entirely exceeds…well almost. The rendition of the Superman theme during the opening credits is a very weak, low-energy version, however, the rest of the score features the best original work since the first film alongside some top-notch reworking of previous music. The reason that the new material is so good, is that while he is not credited, it is written by none other than John Williams himself in his first involvement in the series since the first film (with Alexander Courage composing the score). The first of these is Lacy’s Theme (aka Someone Like You), a delightfully cheesy saxophone piece which is accompanied by some lush orchestrations which would easily fit in with a Fred Astaire dance number (the full score also includes a great variation titled the Disco Version). Likewise, Jeremy’s Theme is suitably innocent and childlike but it’s the Nuclear Man Theme which absolutely slaps with its cartoonish villainy (alongside the more epic, drawn-out rendition which is played during the first fight). It goes without saying Williams is the GOAT of film composing but Courage does a fine job reappropriating William’s earlier compositions and the film does feature some relaxing and breezy variations of the iconic Superman theme. Although If I were to pick one original highlight from Courage it would have to be the piece United Nations which is suitably grandiose (just a shame it’s used for such a ridiculous scene).
Superman IV: The Quest For the Non-Existent Box Office would be the last time Christopher Reeve would dawn the red cape and blue spandex of Superman (Superman V: The Quest For Embryonic Stem Cell Research would never see the light of day). Yet despite everything that is wrong with the film, I can’t bring myself to call Superman IV a film I hate. It does remain at the end of the day, a fascinating demonstration of how not to make a motion picture (why else would I have just written a 4,100-word review analysing it within an inch of its life). Superman IV can stand alongside the bad movie greats such as Batman & Robin, The Room and Troll II for its moments of unintentional hilarity and sheer quotability. Honestly, if I were given the choice between watching Superman IV and some Ikea furniture-style assembly superhero movie that Hollywood regurgitates these days, give me the former. With all said and done as I complete my journey extensively reviewing all four Christopher Reeve Superman movies, I can still find some love in my heart for Superman IV: The Quest For Peace.
Superman III, often dismissed as “the Richard Pryor Superman movie”, is a film with many highly questionable moments and bizarre decisions on the part of the filmmakers (most notably the far greater emphasis on comedy), but dam if it’s not a movie I have an immensely fun time watching. Even during the film’s pre-opening credits scene I already found myself relating to Richard Pryor’s character of August ‘Gus’ Gorman and I thought to myself “Isn’t this supposed to be a bad movie?” Ah yes, the monotonous and degrading experience of going to a jobs & benefits office and dealing with the employees who don’t want to be there and probably don’t like you as evident from their body language. The down-on-his-luck Gus then complains about his experience being employed at a fast-food restaurant and how “they expect you to learn that stuff in one day” – let’s say I’ve had some similar real-life experiences. This is later followed by another one of Gus’ relatable frustrations – having your pay undercut by taxes (“State tax, federal tax, social security tax”). I wasn’t bothered by Pryor sharing the spotlight with Superman regarding screen time as I very quickly became endeared by this regular Joe who bites off more than he can chew and finds himself in extraordinary circumstances. Gus, you are my spirit animal!
The text for the opening credits of Superman III looks like it was created using Windows Movie Maker (or whatever the equivalent was circa 1983) but I’d be lying if I didn’t say the slapstick comedy in the opening credits amuses me with its classic vaudeville-like elements (including a haphazard blind man, a pie in the face and even a clumsy mime). This opening is very intricately set up and is done by a director who understands and knows how to do physical comedy aided by a delightfully mischievous-sounding score from Ken Throne. Now you might be asking dear reader, “Even if all that is true, what is this sequence doing in a Superman film? This isn’t a Jacques Tati film”, and you would be absolutely correct in that assessment. I could try to post-hoc rationalise its inclusion, arguing that it ties in with the fact that Clark Kent is often a bumbling clutz, plus the series is light-hearted and campy as a whole. However, at the end of the day, all I can say is that it simply entertains me and makes me laugh. So please let me enjoy the one time in history in which the unique and odd combination of the Superhero genre and classic vaudeville comedy came together into one.
Not all of the comedy in Superman III is successful in my eyes. If I was to pick out the weakest scene in the entire film it would be that in which Gus explains Superman’s exploits in Columbia as the Man Of Steel disrupts the villain’s plans for economic manipulation (“But this one miserable, puissant little country, has the gall to think it can dictate the economy of an open market!”). I can understand the writers were trying to give Pryor room to express his comic chops however the scene fails on such a level and rather just comes off as a lengthy and awkward expositional monologue edited to several brief flashbacks of Superman in Columbia – why not create an action scene out of this plot point instead?. Then there’s the gag of the green man and the red man in the traffic lights fighting each other. I find the moment funny in isolation, but when viewed within the context of the film you have to ask yourself, “Didthat really just happen?”. Nowadays with smart technology, someone with the know-how could actually programme such a thing to happen, so perhaps the gag was ahead of its time after all.
Amongst the comedy which does succeed, I do enjoy the gags which use Superman’s powers for comedic effect such as Evil Superman straightening of the Leaning Tower of Pisa or the blowing out of the Olympic Torch just as it reaches its final destination. However, If I was to pick a comic highlight of the film, it would have to be the sequence in which Gus breaks into the Webscoe offices in Smallville, with all the drunken antics and the improvised use of a passed out inebriated body of a security guard to turn on a computer which requires “both keys at the same time” to activate (a very Mr. Bean-like scenario) – plus the sight of Pryor in a tweed suit and an oversized cowboy hat which keeps bobbing around is a funny image in itself. Corresponding, the film also has its share of more subtle comic moments such as Gus foolishly flaunting his ill-gotten wealth by driving to work in a Ferrari to Jimmy Olsen’s incessant yammering to Clark as they ride on the bus. I also enjoy Pamela Stephenson as the Jean Harlow-like dumb blonde Lorelei who conceals her intelligence (“How can he say that pure categories have no objective meaning and transcendental logic? What about synthetic unity?”). Then there’s the other brand of comic moments in Superman III, those which I can’t quite determine if they were intentionally supposed to be funny or not, such as the bizarre sight of the unshaven Evil Superman in a bar drinking as he flicks peanuts to smash glass bottles. Regardless, moments like this are now a goldmine for internet memes galore.
Third time’s the charm and Christopher Reeve finally gets top-billed in his own series. Superman III is Reeve’s finest performance as the Man of Steel as he has the task of portraying three different personalities in one film – Clark Kent, Superman and Evil Superman (which he has been retroactively referred to as the persona is never actually given a name in the movie). While these are all persona variations of the same character, it does show Reeve held the same ability alongside the likes of Peter Sellers or Eddie Murphy to play multiple characters in the same film and even interact with each other in the same scene. How one man can look so vastly different from three versions of the same character? Reeve even showcases his physical acting abilities to be on par with the greatest silent film actors with the level of expression he can convey through body language and facial expressions (just look how tightly the skin is pulled back around Reeve’s neck as he shouts “Come on!” during the junkyard fight). Moreover, as with Superman II, one of the elements of the movie I found myself enjoying most was the character relationships. I was surprised I was engaged with the relationship and dynamic with Clark’s Smallville sweetheart Lana Lang (Annette O’Toole) as much as I did with Lois Lane in the previous film. In one of my favourite moments in Superman III, Clark and Lana are cleaning up the gym together following the class reunion party as she tells him about her ambitions and how she wants to leave Smallville as Clark plays an instrumental rendition of Earth Angel on the piano (in a great combination of diegetic and non-diegetic music). At this point in the movie, I thought to myself how people can dismiss this movie as much as they do when you have brilliant, intimate moments like this which showcase performers with such marvellous chemistry. What really differentiates Clark’s relationship with Lana in contrast to his love interest in Superman II is that Lois is in love with Superman but ignores Clark, whereas Lana is in love with Clark but not so much Superman. Thus Clark is much more confident, suave and debonair with Lana, and not the bumbling clutz he is with Lois. Sadly, the status quo of the Superman universe can’t allow Clark and Lana to become a couple, but what a superb pairing they are. I do have to ask though, why are the class of 1965 having a reunion in an off-year, assuming the film is set in the year it was released (but I digress)?
Initially, the big bad of Superman III, Ross Webster (Robert Vaughn) disappointingly came off to me as a lesser Lex Luthor. However, on further viewing, I’ve really come to appreciate the Bond villain-like character and Robert Vaughn’s charismatic and suave performance as well as that of Annie Ross as Webster’s butch, somewhat comical sister Vera. Like Luthor’s underground, abandoned subway layer in the first film, Webster’s own layer is like a character in itself, with his own ski resort atop a Metropolis skyscraper and a memorable, grey, art deco design in his grand office. Additionally, I’m not the first person to point out that the reimagining of Lex Luthor in the comics starting with the Crises Of Infinite Earth series in 1986, portrayed Luthor as not the mad scientist archetype as he had been for decades until that point, but rather as an entrepreneurial head of Lexcorp – not too dissimilar to Ross Webster and his company Websco with both being complete with tall, extravagant skyscraper penthouses as a testament to their larger-than-life egos.
One of the most notable and unique aspects of Superman III is its semi-serious early screen depiction of computers and cyber-terrorism. Gus’s get-rich-quick scheme of writing a computer programme to gather up fractions of a cent remaining from other Webscoe employee’s pay cheques does have its basis in reality in a practice known as salami slicing (with this aspect of Superman III having influenced the movie Office Space as directly referenced in that film itself). However, I do use the term semi-serious as by the film’s climax, the understanding of computers in Superman III goes from having a basis in reality to becoming pure science-fiction with the super-computer designed by Gus. Just how did Gus accumulate the knowledge to design a machine which can feed itself by absorbing power from the electric grid, is able to grab people by using its wiring like a series of tentacles, can levitate people into the air and even turns Vera into a robot (I don’t think even the likes of Bill Gates are capable of creating a computer quite like this). Vera’s robotic transformation (or is she a cyborg as she appears to still have flesh skin albeit painted grey) is particularly frightening as she screams in agony during the process and then proceeds to walk like Boris Karloff in her new robotic form. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention, why does the villain’s view of Superman flying through the canyon looks like a video game complete with score points and those infamous Atari Pac-Man sounds? It doesn’t make sense (not to mention they do realise Superman is indestructible so why are they bothering to fire missiles at him?) but it sure is a fun sequence to watch. This entire action climax of the film is ridiculous but makes for very entertaining viewing and is topped with many memorable special effects shots from stop motion to miniatures (bringing the 80’s factor of Superman III up to 11).
I find Superman III to be the most visually and aesthetically appealing of all four Reeve films, and with Richard Lester being the only director at the helm (unlike Superman II which went through two directors), Superman III is consistent in its visual style with its use of warm, pastel colours and coupled with the picture’s use creative old-school practical effects. These films became more pop art in style as they went along, with another major unique contribution of Superman III to the series being the wholesome, small-town Americana feel with the scenes in Clark’s hometown of Smallville (ironically though filmed in High River, Alberta, Canada). Superman III is full of very comic book-like, very Superman-ey (for lack of a better term) moments such as Clark sneezing to create a bowling ball strike or Superman freezing an entire lake and then carrying it as a huge piece of ice in order to extinguish a chemical plant fire – a joyously simple and effective solution which feels like it’s taken right off the pages of a comic book. Furthermore, the TV version of Superman III contains 18 minutes of extra footage but unlike the TV versions of the first two films, the extra footage is mostly unnecessary padding for existing scenes and contains nothing that I was wishing was included in the theatrical cut. Even the Frank Oz cameo as the surgeon comes off as an awkward and unfunny attempt at shock humour while the clear indication that Evil Superman is definitely getting it on with Lorelei (whereas in the theatrical cut, this is only implied) is pushing it too far for what’s supposed to be a family film. Additionally, the opening credit sequence in this version which goes back to the traditional outer-space credits of the first two films is very dull with the repetitive use of scrolling text. This is one Superman movie in which I will stick with the theatrical version. Or if you would rather have an abridged version of Superman III, watch the infamous trailer which explains the entire main plot in 3 minutes.
An aspect of Superman III which is not often discussed is the film’s many references to indulgence and substance abuse, with Evil Superman being a potential metaphor for this. When analysing a movie for a deeper meaning like this, you can question if any such messages were intentionally incorporated by the scriptwriters. However, in Superman III, this theme is very on the nose that I can’t see it being something which the writers didn’t knowingly include. Firstly, how did Evil Superman come to be? Well by man-made kryptonite which substituted tar with an unknown substance of 0.57% after Gus Gorman choose the substance after seeing it as an ingredient on the side of a cigarette package. It’s like the film is saying smoking turned Superman evil (then again, didn’t your last movie have product placement for Marlboro Cigarettes?). Reeve plays Evil Superman in a manner in which he appears to always be intoxicated, while in pursuit of hedonistic pleasures (including getting super-laid). In general, Superman III is full of references to addictive substances including alcohol, cigarettes, coffee and fast food from the character of Brad Wilson (Gavin O’Herlihy) being in a state of near-constant inebriation to Ross Webster himself being a coffee mogul. Even Webster’s line “Every time a drunk sobers up, he’ll be drinking Webster coffee” is very on the nose. Gus himself also indulges in his newfound wealth (after previously complaining that he wants his pension money now) causing him to lose sight of his moral compass. On top of that, the film’s co-writer Leslie Newman refers to the Evil Superman as being “under the influence” in the documentary The Making Of Superman III – make of that what you will. During the film Evil Superman never kills anyone nor causes catastrophic damage or destruction (bar the oil tanker incident which is the worst action he performs) as Superman’s own inherit morality would prevent him from doing so – it makes sense that hedonism (and general trolling) would be the worst thing a corrupted Superman would do. When watching the movie through this thematic lens of indulgence and substance abuse it makes the confrontation between Clark and Evil Superman all the more compelling, speaking off…
The grand highlight of Superman III has to be the inner conflict of good and evil that is the in-head fight between Evil Superman and Clark Kent in the junkyard – never before has a fight which doesn’t actually happen been so exciting. It’s intriguing to see the Clark persona involved in combat with the juxtaposition of a dorky guy who can give and receive such a brutal beating (“I can give as good as I get”). The use of composite shots and body doubles sells the illusion of two versions of Christopher Reeve fighting each other (pre-dating Back To The Future: Part II by six years), while the junkyard environment is used to great effect with the use of conveyor belts and trash compactors. While none of Ken Throne’s original music reaches anywhere near the heights of John Williams’ work, his music for this fight is a highlight with its eerie use of synthesisers. In addition, I find the moment of Clark being crushed in the trash compactor to be scary stuff. Even though as a viewer I know he will be fine as he is Superman after all, his heavy breathing and the look of horror on his face as he is trying to escape from the machine alongside the pov shot in which he catches his last glimpse of daylight in a scenario of which a normal human would be crushed to death is very unsettling to watch. In the end, the better angels of our nature prevail as Clark defeats Evil Superman, followed by a glorious victory shot in which Clark does the iconic shirt rip and subsequently flies off as regular Superman as the John Williams theme plays is one of those triumphant movie moments that make you want to just cheer on – “Yeah, go Supes!”. I’m not ashamed to proclaim my un-ironic love for the imperfect but joyous cinematic outing that is Superman III (perhaps I can reclaim some cinephile street-cred by reviewing some pretentious, European art-house that everyone pretends to love in order to look cool and artistically enlightened). Will I be able to find any merit in Part IV of the Superman film franchise? Let us embark on the next stage of our quest…a quest for peace?
Due to the complex and troubled production behind Superman II it seems likely it would have been destined to become a disaster of a film with the switching of directors from Richard Donner to Richard Lester during the principal photography process. However, instead of turning into a Frankensteinian mess of two director’s visions stitched together into one, I consider Superman II to be the perfect Superman film. A film which improves on the original in so many ways and delivers a more emotionally satisfying film and offering two hours of pure escapist bliss. A rare instance of the perfect combination of cast and crew coming together to create something wonderful. I will also take this opportunity to say: Lester cut > Donner cut (yes, this is a hill I am willing to die on). After watching Superman II: The Richard Donner Cut I thought to myself “Thank God Donner was fired from this production and replaced with Richard Lester”. Within the Donner cut, the romance between Lois and Clark is very forced and underdeveloped; there is a lack of humour, and no exaggeration, one of the absolute worst endings I’ve ever seen – but that’s for another review.
Lester’s style for Superman II forsakes the more epic scope Richard Donner employed for the first film, instead opting for scenes in the film to more resemble the frames of a comic book – Superman II does have more of a comic book/pop-art vibe. Lester brought on cinematographer Robert Paynter for the film to evoke the colour scheme of the comics however the contrast between Lester’s new footage and that shot by Donner which still made it into the film (i.e. all of Gene Hackman’s scenes) isn’t great enough to become distracting. Superman II has a much more brisk pace than the first film, as evident by the opening scene which re-edits the Kryptonian council’s trial of Zod, Ursa and Non to that of a more frantic pace. It does create a continuity issue with the first film as Marlon Brando has been completely removed from the scene (and is absent for the entire film), however, I am able to look past this as the opening is just so darn exciting and perfectly establishes the tone for the rest of the film. With all the setting up done in the first film, Superman II is able to get straight into the thick of it with the action sequence involving terrorists at the Eiffel Tower, and creating high stakes right off the bat. Correspondingly, another individual who doesn’t return for Superman II is that of composer John Williams and thus is lacking the sounds of The London Symphony Orchestra. Rather the film is scored with a smaller orchestra led by composer Ken Throne, however, I actually don’t mind the stripped-down approach to the music and find it does work in its own way. John Williams may have written the iconic Superman theme, but I find Ken Throne’s faster rendition for the opening credits of Superman II to be the best version of the famous theme with its quicker tempo. Likewise, someone in the production must have been fond of the Average White Band song Pick Up The Pieces as not only does it appear in the film, there is a neat orchestral version of it during the second dinner scene.
While their appearance in Superman: The Movie was fleeting, Superman II finally gives us General Zod (Terrence Stamp) and his two accomplices Ursa (Sarah Douglas) and Non (Jack O’Halloran) in all their glory. Terrence Stamp as Zod is one of those performances which bring me eternal levels of respect for an actor. Every one of his beautiful hammed-up, menacing lines I could listen to all day (a posh English accent makes any on-screen villain all the more evil). Alongside Stamp’s scenery-chewing, part of what makes the trio so intriguing is the innocence of their evil. The three don’t actually seem to be unaware of the immorality of their actions, with Ursa, in particular, taking great joy in her evil misdeeds (one of the many international TV cuts of Superman II does feature a scene in which Non kills a child off-screen, although I prefer this scene’s non-inclusion in the theatrical cut as it is too dark in tone with the rest of the film). Likewise, I greatly enjoy the trio’s genuine curiosity during their time on Earth, such as when Zod is genuinely baffled by Lex Luthor’s impudence (“Why do you say this to me when you know I will kill you for it?”). Much humour is devised from this 3rd Rock From the Sun-type humour such when the trio mistake Earth’s name as planet Houston, nor would any comical/semi-comical act be complete without the dumb one, as even the Kryptonian Council denounces Non for his lack of intelligence (ouch!).
As Zod, Ursa and Non have the same strength as Superman when on Earth, their characters do harken back to the original predecessor story to Superman, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster’s short story The Reign Of The Superman from 1933, in which an indestructible “superman” imposes tyranny on the world rather than using his powers for good. However, once Zod becomes supreme leader of Earth in Superman II, he doesn’t actually do anything. He, Ursa and Non just lounge around the Oval Office and don’t do anything while the rest of the world continues as normal. As I argued in my review of Superman: The Movie, Zod was correct to stand up to the authoritarian dystopia that was Krypton, and on Earth, he is the libertarian hero we need. I for one welcome our new Kryptonian overlords (#ZodWasRight). It is also worth noting that in the TV cut of Superman II, during the invasion of The White House, Zod takes particular umbrage at a portrait of Richard Nixon and starts frantically shooting it even though he should have no knowledge of who this man is, I guess it just rubbed him the wrong way.
Although I may put my defence of Zod on hold in favour of the film’s grand action set-piece as the son of Jor-El takes on the Kryptonian trio in a climatic fight which spawns the city of Metropolis. As combat with a villain was absent in the first film, this fight more than satisfies that desire (”Man, this is gonna be good”), with all those wonderfully kitschy special effects on display just getting better with age. The fight also includes multiple humorous uses of product placement as Superman gets thrown onto a Marlboro Cigarettes truck followed by Zod being flung into a Coca-Cola sign only a few seconds later to my great amusement. The inclusion of product placement for Marlboro Cigarettes is odd though considering early in the film there is some very subtle humour coming from Lois Lane speaking about how she is trying to stay healthy her via her intake of orange juice, all while she continues to chain smoke.
As with the first film, the scenes in The Daily Planet have that screwball comedy vibe, however, I feel the dialogue in Superman II is even wittier this time around. The recurring players in all the Christopher Reeve-era Superman films have such a great dynamic together that even in a movie as poor as Superman IV I can still enjoy their interactions. The major cast member absence of Superman II is Marlon Brando, however Susannah York as Superman/Kal-El’s mother does an effective job filling Brando’s shoes as she is commanding and stoic and like Brando, is a comforting presence in The Fortress Of Solitude. Moreover, Superman II offers further insights into the character of Lex Luthor with his desire just to be the ruler of Australia (and then later Cuba). He may be an egomaniac, but at least knows his limits; he can’t have the world but can happily make do with a continent. The TV cut of Superman II also interestingly features an interaction between Luthor and Jimmy Olson (Marc McClure), two characters that otherwise never encounter nor interact with each other at any other point in the series. I also adore how Superman refuses to look Luthor in the eye when speaking to him as he is that unamused by Luthor’s antics (probably in part since Hackman still got billed above Reeve in the opening credits). Other memorable characters from Superman II include Rocky (aka Mr Wonderful), the perfectly executed love-to-hate character, not to mention that kid from the redneck town who for some bizarre reason sounds like he’s from Victorian-era London.
The other aspect which makes Superman II so great is the romance between Lois and Clark. I was left so badly wanted to see these two get together, two down-to-earth souls who are too perfect a match for each other. Their interactions at the beginning of the film are so endearing as Lois almost mothers the clumsy and meek Clark, not to mention you can really feel the pain as Clark gets friend-zoned big time. Following Lois’ discovery that Clark is indeed Superman, Clark surrenders his powers as Superman to live as a mortal in order to be with Lois. This is followed by the two of them going all the way which I assume Clark would be unable to do as Superman as his superhuman strength would literally kill her (so am I to assume Superman gave up his powers just because he was that thirsty?). The crescendo to the Lois & Clark romance comes to ahead with easily the most emotionally powerful moment in the series, as following the restoration of Superman’s powers, the two try to comprehend continuing to professionally work together in the same vicinity despite their feelings for each other. Margot Kidder’s voice is so emotive and she has that Margaret Sullavan-like quality to her (at the film’s most intense romantic moments her tearful pleas kill me). This conflict is resolved by Clark giving Lois a memory-erasing kiss (another addition to the list of bizarre powers Superman uses once and never again alongside going back in time, repairing the Great Wall Of China with his laser eyes and the infamous cellophane S from earlier in the film). A conclusion like this could easily have come off as a cop-out but I will argue in its favour. Firstly, the manner in which he erases Lois’s mind is via the romantic gesture of a kiss is tonally consistent with the scene, and secondly, the sacrifice that is endured on the part of Clark. Lois can have her mind erased to forget the pain, but Clark is not offered that privilege, he must continue to remain stoic to carry the heartache. That said, with the status quo returned, another Superman adventure beckons, to which the beginning of the end credits to Superman II offers the viewer a tease:
What is the most iconic image of Buster Keaton’s filmography? It would have to be that from Steamboat Bill, Jr. in which the front facade of a house falls on top of Keaton, only for him to be standing in the right spot so the space for the attic window spares him from serious injury or possibly even death. This stunt had also been performed in the earlier short films Back Stage and One Week but on a smaller and less death-defying scale. It certainly would have taken a mathematical mind to locate the precise spot for Keaton to stand in order to avoid possible death. This is the one image of Keaton’s catalogue that is recognizable to those who have never seen a Keaton picture, and possibly second only to the sight of Harold Lloyd hanging off the clock hands in Safety Last! as the most iconic image of the silent era. Set in the fictional River Junction, Mississippi (although filmed in Sacramento, California), Steamboat Bill, Jr. can be considered the final entry in a trilogy of Keaton films set in the American south alongside Our Hospitality and The General. However, even with the opening shot of cotton fields and the central prominence of a Mississippi paddle steamer named after Confederate general Stonewall Jackson, Steamboat Bill, Jr. is lighter on the use of southern iconography but still showcases Keaton’s fascination with this corner of The United States.
Steamboat Bill, Jr. has some of the strongest characterizations and relationships in a Keaton picture, with the father-son relationship between William “Steamboat Bill” Canfield, Sr. (Ernest Torrence) and his estranged son William Canfield, Jr. (Keaton) being at the heart of the film. Bill, Jr. is a bohemian, city slicker, hipster at odds with his gruff, salt of the earth, working-class father and captain of the Stonewall Jackson. What makes the relationship endearing comes from their awkward interactions with each other and the manner in which Bill, Sr. treats his son like a little boy and not a grown man – holding and dragging him by the hand, taking him to the barber and slapping Bill, Jr’s hand away while browsing for hats in a clothing store. Sr. has the potential to come off as an unlikeable character and an antagonist but the film does an effective job of creating sympathy for the father by presenting him as an honest, hard-working businessman who has landed on tough times and has a genuine delight that comes from the prospect of seeing his son for the first time since he was a baby. Even after Sr’s unjust arrest, Jr. still chooses to rescue his father despite having previously lost his temper with him and then forcing his son back to Boston – family comes first.
While physical and visual comedy is normally the main showcase in a Keaton picture (this is the silent era after all), Steamboat Bill, Jr. does have two great examples of verbal, pantomime exchanges. Firstly is Sr’s endearingly comic outburst over continually stepping on peanuts shells which his son has split over the floor by referring to him as “cocoanut shells”, and more significantly is the scene in the jailhouse in which Jr. attempts to smuggle in a loaf of bread with escape tools hidden inside. This leads to a very playful verbal exchange between father and son regarding the bread only for the tools to eventfully fall out before it could have been given to his father (“That must have happened when the dough fell in the tool chest”). It’s also worth noting that in the film’s contemporary score by Carl Davis, this scene features the use of electric guitars in the score, which it’s unique hearing a contemporary instrument, one which hadn’t even been invented at the time of the film’s release.
The love interest in Steamboat Bill, Jr. comes in the form of the very energetic Marion Bryon as Kitty King, whom is by far the most developed Keaton girl and the one instance in which the girl goes after him rather than the other way around. The film’s romance is in the vein of Romeo & Juliet, with Kitty’s father and rival to Bill, Sr., John James King (Tom McGuire), the owner of the “floating palace” of a steamboat known simply as the King in this classic story of big business vs the little guy. King even has the influence to get the Stonewall Jackson shut down by the authorities however come the end David beats Goliath, as humble Stonewall Jackson is the only steamboat to have survived the ensuing hurricane.
Yes, the hurricane, the highly ambitious 14-minute finale of Steamboat Bill, Jr. The sequence feels like a predecessor to the disaster movie genre with the sheer levels of onscreen destruction as entire buildings fall apart (including the aforementioned falling house facade) and in some cases are even raised into the sky as this southern town is gone with the wind (ba-dum-tiss!). Yet while the sequence is thrilling to watch, there is a real beauty to it and has the elegance of a ballet (I can easily forgive the effect of the uprooted tree blowing in the wind not being entirely successful with its portrayal of gravity). During this storm (and despite it) Keaton is even given the opportunity to pay tribute to his own vaudeville past when he enters what remains of a theatre, as he plays around with the various theatre props. I do have to ask just how many wind and rain machines had to be employed to create such a sequence. There are no elaborate post-production techniques (bar an animated electric effect when Bill Jr. touches a live wire), everything you see on screen is real. Nearly 100 years later and Hollywood is making entire movies within green screen rooms. Oh, how the mighty have fallen from grace.
It’s a curious contradiction that it takes a man as athletic as Buster Keaton to convincingly play a man so unathletic and clumsy in the prizefighting romp Battling Butler. Keaton, whose training came from vaudeville and later slapstick comedy shorts, had a knack for playing pampered, effete young millionaires. If anything, Keaton never looked more dapper than he does in Battling Butler, in particular during the first half of the picture in which he exhibits an array of exquisitely groomed, 1920’s gentlemen’s attire for hunting and fishing. This was from a time when boxing was a gentleman’s sport before becoming the realm of the working-class underdog.
Of all Keaton’s silent features, Battling Butler is held in the least regard and is arguably the least viewed in contemporary times. Even back in the day was unable to get my hands on the film until I finally found a copy on a lesser-known video-sharing site. I agree Battling Butler is one of Keaton’s weaker works; however, lesser Keaton is still great Keaton in my book. That said, the film does have a slightly more anodyne feel to it. The premise is quite contrived and upon watching the film again after many years, I did get frustrated at times with its contrivance although I was able to become more accepting of it on further viewings. The basic gist: Albert Butler (Keaton) assumes the identity of a prizefighter who shares his same name (Francis MacDonald), in order to prove to his mountain girl (Sally O’Neil) and her family that is a real man (I will refer to MacDonald’s character as the “Other Butler” for the rest of the review to avoid confusion). One contrivance for example which is never addressed is how the crowd at the train station mistakes the Butler for the Other Butler. One could assume this was a ploy organized by Albert and his valet since the crowd makes their way to a house where Albert and his mountain girl are wed, but the movie never makes this clear. The plot of Battling Butler falls into the category of those which could not happen in a world of the internet, mass media, bureaucracy and surveillance. For example, the mountain girl and her family can only follow his supposed fight over the radio. With television only a few decades later, the whole premise falls flat.
That said, if you suspend your disbelief, Battling Butler still delivers the usual Keaton goods, such as the comic use of mise-en-scene with the placement of props during the camping trip from the film’s first act, including a polar bear rug and a bedroom panel inside Albert’s tent – you know, the usual camping essentials. Furthermore, the skit of Albert trying to shoot a submerging duck only a few feet away while standing up in a tiny kayak is reminiscent of an Elmer Fudd scenario in a Looney Tunes short, with the obviously fake duck prop making the moment even more comical. I also appreciate the use of The Funeral March of The Marionette (aka the theme from Alfred Hitchcock Presents) in the film’s contemporary score by Robert Israel, when Albert is shown an ambulance and stretcher before the picture’s climactic fight. However, once Keaton dawns the boxing gloves, the best of the film’s comedy shines through. Buster Keaton training to become a prizefighter is a natural haven of comic possibilities as the weakling Albert knows jack about hand-to-hand combat and exhibits basic failures of hand-to-eye coordination. The recurring pratfall of Albert getting tangled and trapped in the boxing ring ropes like a ragdoll is one of the film’s physical comedy highlights and like the greatest Keaton stunts it has you asking “how does he manage to do that?” (one thing I do wish is that the movie had shown more of was that ridiculous-looking punch bag, mannequin with the flailing arms). However, when Keaton actually appears in boxing shorts, his surprisingly muscular physique is apparent, rather than the skin and bones we would expect from a character like Alfred Butler – I guess Keaton wasn’t prepared to go all Christian Bale in The Machinist for the role. As for the Other Butler, any sympathy that is created for the character from having both another man profit from impersonating him and having an unfaithful wife (who tries to have an affair with Alfred Butler), becomes undone through some unseen domestic violence in which his wife is shown to have received a black eye in by far the film’s darkest joke.
The boxing arena featured in Battling Butler is the Olympic Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles (which still stands today as a place of worship for the Glory Church of Jesus Christ). The cinematography employed for the scenes inside the auditorium are particularly impressive with the use of deep focus and a single heavenly spotlight from above (alongside the golden glow of the film’s sepia tone tinting). The Olympic Auditorium has its own extensive history with motion pictures, being used as a shooting location for both Rocky and Raging Bull. Speaking of the later film, Battling Butler and its final fight does have one huge admirer, none other than Martin Scorsese himself. Scorsese points to the fight as one of the biggest inspirations to getting the “feel” of the boxing scenes in Raging Bull just right according to the book Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull, with Scorsese quoting that Keaton is “the only person who had the right attitude about boxing in the movies“. The fight in question is not the fight the film tricks the audience into thinking it is building momentum towards, in which Albert must face off against the intimidating figure of The Alabama Murderer, of which it initially feels disappointing that we are never actually treated to. Rather the climatic fight is a backroom brawl between the two Butlers. It is uncharacteristic for Keaton to triumph using brute force rather than through ingenuity but this break from Keaton tradition does work in a number of ways. For starters, the fight itself does look authentic and the punches look real while the footage does not appear to have been sped up (you can see why Scorsese would have been attracted to it). Secondly, it is a huge turning point in Alfred’s character, when he has been pushed beyond his limits to his breaking point after the Other Bulter taunts him (think of how George McFly knocks out Biff Tannen in Back To The Future after George has been pushed to his breaking point). In a convincing show of strength, Alfred knocks out the Other Butler, and thus Alfred’s journey is now complete. He is now a man and worthy of his woman.
What struck me most on my first viewing of House (or Hausu)was that alongside the film’s sheer over-the-top, phantasmagoric madness, I found the whole thing to be weirdly endearing. Initially, I was concerned I was getting into something awfully pretentious but I was able to surrender myself to the fact that I was watching a film which employees a different filmmaking technique in just about every scene. House has one of themost cliché of horror movie premises, yet it gives way to one of the most unique and weirdest viewing experiences with descriptions ranging from “Evil Dead on steroids” to “a Scooby-Doo episode directed by Mario Bava” – perhaps no other film holds a better claim to the title of being “one wild and crazy ride”.
Japan’s reputation for “WTFness” could make House a film easy to dismiss, however, there is a method to the madness. Director Nobuhiko Obayashi was a director of commercials before taking on the mantle of House, and the artifice of commercials is all over the film alongside (pre-MTV) music video style editing, of which I’m sure it’s no coincidence that House was shot using the 4:3 aspect ratio – the aesthetics of House are all about the embrace of artifice. A film of contradictions, House is an art-house film (or art-hausu film one could say, ba-tum-tiss!) and one which was reportedly a huge success with the youth demographic in Japan upon its release (with the film’s extraction of sex appeal from its young female stars as well as nudity in several scenes may have got many young men into the theatres). In this regard it’s also worth mentioning House stands out as it is uncommon for Japanese films to have an English language title. Yet at the same time House symbolizes a return to tradition, a rejection of realism in 1970’s cinema. Right from the opening prologue, the movie proclaims in the vintage Broadway font what you are about to see is “A Movie Presentation”. This is part of the reason why beyond its scenes with killer futons, man-eating pianos and decapitated heads biting girls on the derrière, House is as I previously mentioned, weirdly endearing – the director’s love for cinema comes through and feels like a celebration of the medium. If I were to compare House to another film it would have to be Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. Both films celebrate the art form with their use of special effects which blur the line between reality and fantasy with both also featuring a movie within a movie. House has a Technicolor-look reminiscent of the work of Jack Cardiff with its use of deep, saturated colour with the film’s colour scheme remains largely consistent throughout with its use of oranges, reds and blues and being a horror picture, it does have that autumnal/Halloween vibe (even though it is set during the summer). Speaking of, as a horror film is House actually scary? Well, this measure is subjective of course but I did personally jump at the reveal of severed head of the character Mac as well as Gorgeous’ giant profile suddenly entering to the screen from the right.
House is like a feature-length dream with its mad array of images. The images from the film were conjured from the mind of a child, Obayashi’s pre-teen daughter Chigumi Obayashi (who does receive a conceptual credit and even has a cameo in the film as a shoemaker). I am dubious of having a child being a film’s creative consultant since the last movie I saw to do so was those dreadful Robert Rodriguez Spy Kids films but in House, this influence works and another aspect which makes the film endearing. To anyone who has never seen House, it’s difficult to put into words just how insane a film this is without sounding melodramatic. This encyclopedia of movie storytelling and its array of practical special effects wizardry is a joy to behold from primitive blue screen to the use of stop motion – there are a few films in which an obscene amount of effort is put into every shot. On the other hand, there are sections of House which do have a chilled-out nature to them and the cheesy vibes of Beach Party film. Just a warning that several sequences in the film do contain strobe lighting effects (as if the Japanese weren’t content enough with giving people seizures through Pokémon episodes). Upon my third viewing of House, I did find myself becoming more desensitized to its bizarre nature and more understanding the filmmakers’ mindset on how they could have created something like this. That said, where Mr. Togo’s transformation into a pile of bananas and the bear wearing the chef outfit fit into the grander scheme of things I can’t explain. I guess you got to have some randomness for randomness’ sake.
House follows seven girls each named after a single personality trait- Gorgeous, Kung Fu, Prof, Fantasy, Mac, Sweet and Melody. At the beginning of their summer break, they decide to spend some time at the country house of Gorgeous’ aunt, where all is not what it seems. The story does play as an inverse of Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs, seven girls each defined by a single personality trait, show up at a house in the middle of nowhere which is in need of cleaning, owned by an old woman who lives alone. Of the ensemble, Gorgeous is the closet to the film having a protagonist as she has a clearly defined arc, beginning with a subplot involving her father attempting to bring a stepmother into the family and freeing his daughter from domestic chores such as ironing his shirts in a story right out of a Yasujirō Ozu film. Even in the film’s opening scene, a teacher mentions how she is having an arranged marriage during the summer, a topic often explored in Ozu’s work. The only girl in the group named after a purely negative trait (and of course, she dies first) is the gluttonous Mac (derived from the English word “stomach”), although fantasy itself holds its negative aspects, My favourite of the group however has to be alpha in the form of Kung Fu, whose speciality skill leads to several very humorous (whether intentional or not) fight scenes against an array of moving objects.
Acting as a mascot for House with its prominence in promotional material is the white ragdoll cat that joins the girls on their adventure (good kitty!). Cats hold a supernatural significance in Japan and it’s evident the cat in House is doing the bidding of a witch, even preventing Mr. Togo from joining the girls at the house to potentially rescue them. This witch in question is the aunt (Yōko Minamida) herself who proves to be an interesting figure. She has an ominous ghostly look to her and is portrayed in the mould of the classic Yurei, a ghost from Japanese folklore that cannot pass onto the afterlife. She is also vampiric in nature, wearing tinted glasses when going outside, and feeling unwell after being in the sun not to mention the interior of her house is very dark. Oddest of all, she feels revitalized by the presence of the girls which allows herself to not require the use of her wheelchair. The aunt is a Willy Wonka-like figure and the house is her factory as the girls are taken out one by one by the house itself, much of this done through the watchful eye of Gorgeous assuming the mantle of her aunt, becoming possessed by her in act of metamorphosis. Like the kids in Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory, it’s not made clear if the girls are actually killed literally or just in a metaphorical sense. Usually, in slasher films, the young people are killed as a comeuppance for their promiscuous actions, but do the girls in House deserve what they receive? One of the film’s themes and one which is confirmed by the director is how the trauma of World War II still affects the aunt whose finance never returned from the war and correspondingly how the seven girls take their peacetime living for granted. To quote Obayashi; “These girls born after the war and therefore unaware of how precious peace is, come to the house on summer vacation. The old woman’s bitterness about the war turns into an evil spirit and devours the girls”. This taking of peace for granted is showcased during the movie within a movie, in which a flash from a camera cuts to an atomic cloud, to which one of the girls makes the trite comment, “That looks like cotton candy”. This is at least the case with the subtitles on the US Criterion Collection release. On the UK Masters Of Cinema release, there are no subtitles on this shot even though giddy chatter from the girls can be heard. Speaking of subtitle differences between these two aforementioned releases, in the scene introducing Gorgeous’ father, a film composer who has just returned from Italy after working with Sergio Leone, his line of dialogue in the Criterion release states the rather unbelievable comment “Leone said my music was better than Morricone’s”. However, in the Masters Of Cinema release, the line is the less dramatic “Both Leone and Morricone liked it very much”. Is someone taking liberties in the translation process?
Of the various interpretations of House, that which strikes me the most is the film being a coming-of-age tale of Gorgeous’ urge to stay a young woman and refusal to enter womanhood. As the house eats the young girls, blood erupts from it, the blood of menstruation – a symbol of womanhood triumphing over youth. It’s also worth noting the blood in question comes from the cat, an alternative name for a cat is a…, ok you know what I mean. Likewise, when people are young they will have certain friends and as they become older they may move on from these friends as a result of maturity. Gorgeous’ dying friends can be seen to represent this while her stepmother going up in flames in the film’s final scene could be viewed as her lack of need for a mother figure in adulthood. I have read theories bringing this theory to greater extremes of analyses, in particular, an extensive write-up on the now defunct (but thankfully archived) IMDB boards in which a user by the name of nemuro8 proposes the seven girls all represent aspects of puberty (I’m not sure if I buy into it but it’s food for thought); “Fantasy represents naivety and the fear of the change. Mac represents hormonal changes with her increased appetite. Sweet represents the desire to fill expectations and the role of domestic life. Melody represents creativity and the desire to have fun. Kung-Fu represents courage and brashness. Prof represents logic and leadership. Gorgeous represents vanity and beauty.”
The soundtrack to House (which was released before the film had even entered production) deserves a review in its own regard as it works as a cohesive album rather than just a collection of songs (with most but not all of the tracks you wouldn’t guess are from a horror film). The jovial main theme of the film has a section with a superb synthesized rendition of the melody, which is only heard briefly in the film itself. Hungry House Blues on the other hand is a delta blues style track that only appears very briefly in the picture, however, this version on the soundtrack is a whooping 6 minutes long complete with plenty of slide guitar action and even has vocals in the style of a 1930’s Mississippian black man (who provided these vocals?). Buggy Boogie is a piece of early ’60s, rockabilly cheese while The Beach Boys style Cherries Were Made For Eating is a real uplifting, banger of a choon, provided by the band Godiego (whom makes a cameo in the film as the song is being played). Eat is in a way the defacto theme of Kung Fu, as the piece is played every time she gets involved in her trademark skill – a good piece if you need a quick dose of adrenaline and the one track which has an undeniably funky, 70’s sound. In The Evening Midst is the most profound track and the real centrepiece of both the film and album, an instrumental played by Melody several times throughout the film which acts as a relief to the horror surrounding it. The track feels similar to the piano melodies from David Bowie’s Hunky Dory and ends on a beautiful crescendo (it’s also worth noting, this piano melody does bear a striking resemblance to the piano riff on the song Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance). The final track of both the album and film is titled House Love Theme, this Beatles-like calm after the storm which feels reminiscent of Abbey Road side B. This is the only song in House which actually features Japanese lyrics of which I am unable to find a translation of thus I can’t comment if the lyrics actually hold any thematic relevance to the film.
House is the kind of film to be watched on the big screen at a midnight showing alongside the likes of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It does feel like was designed and destined to become one of the ultimate cult films. I do find myself fascinated by films such as this which remained unknown in the west for decades before obtaining a mass following. Of the film’s 149 reviews on IMDB, only 14 were written prior to the film’s first North American release in 2009. It makes you wonder what’s still out there…
By all indications, Gigi should be a musical masterpiece, the last hurrah of Metro Goldwyn Mayer’s Freed Unit and yet, it took me several viewing attempts to actually sit through Gigi in its entirety, extracting as much appreciation as I can from what the film has to offer. While there are aspects of this musical vacation I enjoy, there is a synergy derived from one of the film’s songs which sums up this disappointing production, the ironically titled It’s A Bore.
So how did a major Hollywood movie about a girl being trained to become a prostitute get made in 1958? The film is full of gags about the French stereotype of impropriety however the film doesn’t outright state that Gilberte “Gigi” (Leslie Caron) is being trained to become a courtesan and a less in-tune viewer looking at the film from an anglo-centric perspective as opposed to a continental one may just think she is receiving lessons in etiquette. One of the film’s more successful elements is its (often dark) Ernst Lubitsch-style comedy from casual conversation on Laine d’Exelman’s (Eva Gabor) failed suicide attempts to Gigi’s mentally ill, off-screen mother’s out-of-tune singing. The other aspect of the film tying it to Lubitsch is the casting of the ever charming epitome of Frenchness, Lubitsch pre-code regular Maurice Chevalier. However, when it comes to the film’s two leads, Leslie Caron and Louis Jordan as Gigi’s eventual love interest Gaston Lachaille, I’m not seeing many sparks. They make for a decent pairing but I’m never left thinking these two were made for each other nor am I dying to see them end up together. This romance fails to create any real conflict in the story nor does Gaston’s boredom with everyday life or Gigi’s disdain for her training and the Parisian obsession with love. Gigi’s age is never stated however Caron was 26 at the time of filming yet she looks like a girl in her teens and like Ginger Rogers in The Major and The Minor, it is an impressive transition (in earlier films she looked older).
Ah Paris, the preferred setting of every romantic comedy made in the ’50s and ’60s. Gigi does deliver the goods with a slice of turn-of-the-century nostalgia (if only the characters knew they would have two world wars ahead of them, you cheese-eating surrender monkeys). However, this world is captured using Metrocolor which was never as visually eye-popping as Technicolor (nor was any colour process post-Technicolor). Compare Gigi with earlier Vincente Minnelli-directed musicals such as Meet Me In St Louis or An American In Paris and there is a clear downgrade in aesthetic beauty. Despite this (as well as some less than stellar rear projection during It’s a Bore number) Minnelli was one of the best directors when it came to the ability to compose shots (or mise-en-scène to use a pretentious French term) that look like paintings. Gigi does contain some stunning frames from Gaston’s silhouette at the fountain to any of the shots within the Grandmother’s apartment in which the bright red background beautifully contrasts Gigi’s blue dress. The real-world locations also give the picture a big boast from the Ice Palace skating rink (the former Palais des Glaces) to the interior of Gaston’s home which was filmed inside an actual museum (Musée Jacquemart-Andre).
The lush orchestrations of the MGM Studio Orchestra do deliver the goods however none of the songs has me rushing out to listen to the film’s soundtrack (while Thank Heaven For Little Girls doesn’t help matters with its unintentionally creepy lyrics). Gigi is an all singing but no dancing affair; there is no hoofer action and the cast sings while walking, riding or just sitting down (The Night They Invented Champagne being the only number with a brief stint of dancing). On top of that, Gigi also lacks any grand finale like the ballet in An American In Paris. Come the conclusion I was left with the reaction of “that’s it?”. What a legacy the MGM musicals left behind, it’s just a shame they went out not with a bang but with a whimper.
Much of the beauty of Buster Keaton’s films comes from their simplicity. Jimmie Shannon (Keaton) learns he will inherit 7 million dollars (105 million in 2019) providing he is married by the evening of his 27th birthday. Jimmie is not yet married and it just so turns out, his 27th birthday is today (the only question I would pose about the premise is how they define “by the evening” as being 7 o’clock but I digress). Seven Chances is split into two distinct sections, the preamble and then the action-orientated second half. The picture is only 56 minutes long and the pacing is just about perfect in this Metro-Goldwyn Production (just before the Mayer was thrown in). Seven Chances is one of three Keaton features which sees him play a rich nitwit, similar to the characters he would play in The Navigator and Battling Butler. With the film’s theme of Money vs. Love, the picture goes to the effort of getting the audience’s sympathy and making the protagonist less of a heal. The endearing opening prologue establishes that Jimmie loves his girlfriend Mary (Ruth Dwyer) but is too tongue-tied and shy to confess his feelings towards her. After Jimmie bungles a proposal to Mary with a tactless remark, he refuses to marry anyone else and has to be persuaded by his business partner to marry another woman. At one point, he even refuses to marry his gal because he wants to spare her from what he believes is the failure and disgrace that awaits him. Likewise, the film also establishes that Jimmie’s brokerage firm is in trouble after being tricked into a shady deal and thus himself and his partner face ruin and possibly prison, justifying his need for the money. If the main character’s motivation was that of pure greed then the film simply wouldn’t work.
The first half of Seven Chances involves Keaton making many socially awkward marriage proposals, first with a failed attempt to Mary and then to a series of women at a country club (his seven chances). Possibly due to its origins as a stage play, Seven Chances has a higher ratio of jokes which have a greater degree of input from other cast members or don’t involve Keaton at all, with T. Roy Barnes and Snitz Edwards receiving many comic highlights. However, the film’s best, unsung cast member would have to be the Anna May Wong lookalike of the hat check girl who displays great underplayed comic timing with Keaton (according to the article Married In Haste by Imogen Sara Smith, the uncredited actress is named Rosalind Byrne). Seven Chances also includes an early screen appearance from future screwball dame Jean Arthur as the secretary Miss Smith (or so her name tag suggests as she later shows Jimmie her wedding ring). It may be a silent film but she still conveys that wisecracking attitude and laidback persona with her body language and that expressive face (often seen reading a book while she is on the job).
As Jimmie becomes increasingly desperate to find a bride he runs up towards a woman only to see that she is black. Now keep in mind that miscegenation was illegal in California until 1948. Is Jimmie showing repulsion over her race or disappointment that he legally cannot marry her? The gag could be interpreted as a jab at such laws however at least one black woman does come to the church later on to marry him. Subsequently, Jimmie approaches another woman only to stop pursuing her upon discovering she is Jewish after she holds up a newspaper in Yiddish. Many reviewers mistake the newspaper to be printed in Hebrew which was not a widely spoken language among Jews at the time whereas Yiddish was (several newspapers in this language did exist in the US at the time and I’m curious as to what the text on the paper translates to). It’s not clear if the girl even speaks English as when Jimmie speaks to her she looks confused and just shrugs her shoulders. Does Jimmie avoid marrying her due to language barriers, the issues derived from marrying a Jewish woman or just anti-Semitism on his part (to derive some humour from shock value)? Likewise, another woman Jimmie encounters gives him a quick rejection to which he informs his partners immediately afterwards, “Wrong party” – make of that what you will. The only joke in the film in which context is required for a modern viewer is that in which Jimmie walks into a theatre featuring what appears to be a female performer, only for him to walk out seconds later in a ruffled-up state upon discovering the performer in question is Julian Eltinge, a cross-dressing performer of the time. I will say it is the weakest gag in the film as it’s not particularly clever.
The two-strip Technicolor footage from the film’s opening prologue hasn’t survived well and has a very washed-out look however the remainder of the film from the 4K restoration comes in a lovely sepia-tone print. As far as Keaton’s technical wizardry, the automobile transitions are a unique experiment as Jimmie hops into a car and the shot fades to a different location with the car and Keaton remaining in the same screen position. What’s particularly impressive about these transitions are the spokes on the wheels which remain in the exact same position in both shots – blink and you miss it attention to detail. Seven Chances also includes many shots of Keaton’s early pioneering of deep focus cinematography such as the interior shots of the church with a sleeping Jimmie on the front bench as scores of perspective brides make their way in via the background and all in clear focus. Speaking off…
The second half of Seven Chances is comprised of the set-up and execution of a colossal chase sequence. After failing to find a bride, Jimmie and co print an advertisement in the evening newspaper informing whatever lucky woman shows up at the Broad Street Church at 5 pm will become the bride-to-be for the forthcoming millionaire. Come 5 pm and the church has been beset with hundreds of prospective brides to which the church’s clergyman appears and announces he believes the whole thing to be a practical joke. Infuriated, the brides chase after Jimmie who subsequently discovers Mary wants to marry him after all. This chase involves the most extras employed in a Keaton film, outdoing his 1922 shorts Cops which acts as a precursor to Seven Chances. The women in their makeshift bridal outfits destroy everything in their path like a stampeding herd of elephants in their pursuit of Jimmie. Keaton shot many of his films using locales in Los Angeles and Seven Chances is another great example of how he was able to use the city as his playground. From the trolleys, automobiles, open fields and orchards; it’s a wonderful showcase of vintage west-coast Americana. The sequence keeps upping the ante with every new obstacle from football players, beehives and duck hunters with much of the carnage reminiscent of what Peter Bogdanovich would execute in his screwball comedy homage What’s Up Doc?. The manner in which Keaton moves his legs as he’s running as fast as he can is like a character in a Hanna-Barbara animation and his stunt work really makes you say “is he really doing that?”. At one point he even runs into a barbed wire fence which he subsequently tries to untangle himself from – it looks painful. The film does feature some same shot edits on several of the stunts but it doesn’t ruin one’s state of disbelief. The chase culminates in one of the most surreal of Keaton moments as he gets Indiana Jones’d by hoards of falling boulders. In reality, the rocks were made out of papier-mâché however I do find the physics of the boulders believable, you can feel the weight of them as they roll and bounce around. It appears that Keaton does engage in The Prometheus School Of Running Away From Things as at several moments he could have just run to the left or right to avoid the boulders, but the scene is so entertaining I can suspend my disbelief. Buster Keaton was truly beyond us mere mortals.
Unpopular opinion time, The General is a good film but is not Buster Keaton’s best – I’ll start with the film’s merits. The General is one of several Keaton films set in a historical period and the film’s budget certainly pays off when it comes to recreating Marietta, Georgia circa 1861 at the outbreak of the American Civil War. There are great amounts of historical detail within every frame from the buildings to the costumes and the grand locomotive, The General itself. On a purely visual level, The General may be Keaton’s most visually stunning film, full of lush shots of Oregon landscape (although the film itself is set in Georgia) which would make even John Ford jealous. The destruction of the locomotive on the burning bridge is one the most ambitious shots of Keaton’s filmography. However, my favourite shot in all of The General occurs during the climax in which Johnnie Gray (Keaton) holds the Confederate flag amidst battle – the type of cinematic shot that is forever imprinted in your mind. The scores by Carl Davies are the most ideal accompaniment for Keaton’s films and The General is no exception from quirky moments to more epic and militaristic arrangements, as well as rousing standards such as I Wish I Was In Dixie.
I’ll always say that the train is the ultimate cinematic device and as skillfully (and dangerously) executed the stunt work is in The General with all its comic touches, the action doesn’t quite have the high stakes or heart-pounding intensity as action sequences in other Keaton pictures, leading to a film that does test my patience at times. Why is this? Why am I more on the edge of my seat watching Keaton run away from falling boulders in Seven Chances or battling hurricane winds in Steamboat Bill Jr? If Johnnie had been an actual coward and avoided enlistment rather than his love interest being lied to that Johnnie didn’t even get in line to enlist (which in itself is quite contrived), I believe the stakes in the film would be so much higher, thus making the pursuit of The General from the hands of Yankee spies more intense and suspenseful with Johnnie overcoming of his cowardice being the character’s redemption. With The General presented as it is, Johnnie has to prove himself by overcoming lies told by others rather than his own character flaws, which I believe weakens the film’s narrative.
There is the pink elephant in the room that The General is a film in which the hero of the story is a loyal son of the Confederacy. According to the Thames documentary on Keaton A Hard Act To Follow, it is stated that Keaton choose to tell the story from the southern perspective as in 1926, veterans of the civil war as well people whose fathers and grandfathers had fought were still alive, thus Keaton didn’t want to rile up half of his potential audience by appearing to make fun the side that lost. This does raise the question as to how The General was received in the Northern states? The General was released 61 years following the end of the civil war, which to put in context, would be the equivalent of releasing a movie about World War II in 2006. The General only contains one moment which could be seen as a jab at the Confederacy in which Johnnie states in a moment of foreshadowing dialogue “If you lose this war, don’t blame me”. Aside from that, The General remains an apolitical film in which the civil war setting is almost immaterial to the story. The film makes no mention of slavery, secession nor is either side portrayed as right or wrong. Nor are there any of the usual negative stereotypes associated with the American south (although humorously the film does contain the Colonel Sanders lookalike general who always seems to permeate any fiction about the old south). I have heard it argued that such depoliticized treatments of the civil war in themselves aid the lost cause narrative, yet Keaton himself was not from the south, being a mid-western man born in Kansas. The viewer can draw their own conclusions on what Keaton’s authorial intent was.
To compare The General to Keaton’s earlier work Our Hospitality (1923), a film which holds a number of similarities to The General with its use of a locomotive, the southern setting and the grand scenery, I’d argue is a much more engaging and creative film. While there is much I admire in The General, of all Keaton’s silent features, it’s the one I’m least keen to revisit.
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Sat In Your Lap 