My Dear Miss Aldrich (1937, George B. Seitz)

All My Dear Miss Aldrich is missing is a good script. Well, it’s missing some other things, but with a good script, it could have survived.

The film has a lot of events in the first thirty or forty minutes, with the remaining minutes centered on a mystery. But it’s not really a mystery because Aldrich is a comedy at a newspaper. Even when there are crimes committed, no one pays attention, because being held hostage isn’t a crime if the victim’s a newspaper employee apparently.

Maureen O’Sullivan inherits a New York newspaper and heads there (from Nebraska) with her aunt, played by Edna May Oliver. O’Sullivan and Oliver are great together; it’s unfortunate they soon get separated.

The paper’s run by Walter Pidgeon’s sexist editor. He’s so sexist, his all male staff thinks he’s overboard. So the film seems like it’s O’Sullivan out to prove him wrong… only she never does. In fact, she proves his argument—she’s just a silly woman and needs to marry him. Maybe if Pidgeon were charming or in any way appealing, it might be passable as a dated, unfortunately sexist picture.

But Pidgeon’s not appealing. His performance isn’t terrible, but he’s a jerk. Everyone thinks he’s a jerk. It’s hard to see why anyone is supposed to be in his corner.

Seitz’s direction’s merely adequate. He doesn’t get enough coverage and editor William S. Gray has to make some nasty cuts.

O’Sullivan and Oliver almost make Aldrich tolerable… but it’s a losing battle.

Wasteland 3 (February 1988)

This issue’s a major disappointment. Okay, maybe not major, but definitely a disappointment. There’s not a single good story in it.

The first story is Close and Ostrander riffing a little on Harvey Pekor with “American Squalor.” The Simpson art is good, the visual presentation of the anecdote is okay… it’s just not a particularly good anecdote. It’s easily the best story in the issue.

The second story–Ostrander writing, Lloyd on art–looks fine. World-weary cop navigates the Hellish urban metropolis while questioning faith. It’s predictable and unoriginal. Ostrander never comes up with a single good, fresh moment. Never even approaches one.

He and Close reteam for the final story. It’s a first person serial killer one. Very risqué, if one’s trying to do a cologne ad yuppie as a serial killer. Freeman’s art is highly stylized, but technically competent.

The issue’s a waste of time and talent.

CREDITS

American Squalor; writers, Del Close and John Carpenter; artist and letterer, Don Simpson. Dies Illa; writers, Ostrander and Close; artist, David Lloyd; letterer, Steve Craddock. Lotus Blossom; writers, Ostrander and Close; artist, George Freeman; letterer, Ron Muns. Colorist, Lovern Kindzierski; editor, Mike Gold; publisher, DC Comics.

Contemporaneously…

Walk and Talk the Vote (2012, Michael Mayers)

Walk and Talk the Vote reunites the “West Wing” cast–including Martin Sheen as President Bartlet, which I wasn’t expecting, but a lot of it feels like it could have just been impersonators.

The only time the commercial–for Mary McCormack’s sister, Bridget Mary McCormack–gets any energy is when characters are actually talking to each other and the actors are visibly getting in rhythm with each other. It happens especially with Allison Janney and Bradley Whitford and a little with Sheen and Lily Tomlin. Poor Richard Schiff, who doesn’t talk with anyone so much as at them, looks a little lost.

Also lost are Joshua Malina and Janel Moloney. They literally disappear after their initial appearance.

It’s a neat idea and not a bad commercial to encourage people to vote the non-partisan portion of the ballot, but John Cockrell’s script is really forced.

Whitford and Janney save it.

Not Recommended

CREDITS

Directed by Michael Mayers; screenplay by John Cockrell, inspired by a television show created by Aaron Sorkin; director of photography, Mayers; edited by Greg Arata; music by Kyle Newmaster; produced by Mary McCormack and Michael Morris.

Starring Allison Janney (C.J. Cregg), Janel Moloney (Donna Moss), Richard Schiff (Toby Ziegler), Bradley Whitford (Josh Lyman), Mary McCormack (Kate Harper), Joshua Malina (Will Bailey), Melissa Fitzgerald (Carol Fitzpatrick), Lily Tomlin (Deborah Fiderer) and Martin Sheen as the President.


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Seven Psychopaths (2012, Martin McDonough)

One could say a lot about Seven Psychopaths and how McDonough teases the fourth wall to propel the plot. But such a discussion would distract too much from the film. McDonough gleefully avoids profundity with Psychopaths, though he does occasionally find it. At those moments, he allows the briefest pause before continuing with the relentless, savage humor.

McDonough isn’t discreet about these plotting decisions either–he draws attention to them so jokes pay off better. Psychopaths jokes range from situational to phonetical. He takes great advantage of each actor, whether it’s Sam Rockwell (who gets the most to do in the film) or Christopher Walken (who gets the second most, but has the best revelations in his character). The actors fully inhabit their characters, even Woody Harrelson, who has the weakest part.

Of course, the lead’s not Rockwell or Walken (they just carry the movie away with them), it’s Colin Farrell. And Farrell’s playing a screenwriter named Martin–just like McDonough, playing up the pliable fourth wall. Farrell’s job is to provide some stability and his greatest achievement is not getting lost amongst the more dynamic performances. He has an analogue in an underutilized Zeljko Ivanek. Both are playing straight men (Ivanek to Harrelson, Farrell to everyone); both do rather well at it.

Also excellent are Linda Bright Clay and Tom Waits. Look fast for Crispin Glover.

McDonough’s Panavision composition is strong, ably assisted by Ben Davis’s photography. It’s occasionally too crisp.

Psychopaths is an excellently acted, excellently written amusement.

★★★

CREDITS

Written and directed by Martin McDonough; director of photography, Ben Davis; edited by Lisa Gunning; music by Carter Burwell; production designer, David Wasco; produced by Graham Broadbent, Peter Czernin and McDonough; released by CBS Films.

Starring Colin Farrell (Marty), Sam Rockwell (Billy), Woody Harrelson (Charlie), Christopher Walken (Hans), Tom Waits (Zachariah), Abbie Cornish (Kaya), Olga Kurylenko (Angela), Linda Bright Clay (Myra), Kevin Corrigan (Dennis), Zeljko Ivanek (Paulo) and Long Nguyen (The Priest).


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Wasteland 2 (January 1988)

Once again, the Messner-Loebs illustrated story is the best in Wasteland. But this time it’s on the somewhat autobiographical Close story. Teenage runaway Close works backstage in a horror show circus; things go dangerously wrong. Close’s dialogue’s fantastic, very smooth transitions, lots of humor. Messner-Loebs excels at the variety too.

The second story, with George Freeman art, and Ostrander and Close collaborating on the script, is the issue’s least. It’s still good and funny–Shirley MacLaine inhabits Genghis Khan for a song–but there’s nothing to it. It has a great setup and punchline, but it’s not special.

The final story, with both writers (and Lloyd on art), has an excellent muted payoff. The story’s standout is Lloyd and his visual pacing of a child welfare interview. It’s a strange case, but Lloyd’s meticulous, precise panels would make it compelling even if it weren’t.

Wasteland continues to impress.

CREDITS

That’s Entertainment; writers, Del Close and John Ostrander; artist and letterer, William Messner-Loebs. Ghengis Sings!; writers, Ostrander and Close; artist, George Freeman; letterer, Ron Muns. Warning Signals; writers, Close and Ostrander; artist, David Lloyd; letterer, Steve Craddock. Colorist, Lovern Kindzierski; editor, Mike Gold; publisher, DC Comics.

Contemporaneously…

Wasteland 1 (December 1987)

The strangest thing about Wasteland is how the story about tripping is the least trippy story of the three in this issue.

The trippy story is the last one, an ostensibly autobiographic one written by Del Close, recounting a trip through the Chicago sewers. Don Simpson does the art and the art’s great and the writing’s amusing, but it’s cute and the rest of the issue isn’t.

The first story, by John Ostrander and David Lloyd on art, is about a lethal hallucinogen. The art’s disturbing enough to cover some of Ostrander’s weaker “cop” dialogue moments. It’s a decent enough start and not at all upbeat.

The middle story, with Ostrander and Close co-writing, is the stunner. William Messner-Loebs does the art and, even though it’s “real,” it’s rather trippy stuff. It’s an absurdist future story with some really thought-provoking, disturbing “comic” moments. It’s the issue’s best.

CREDITS

Foo Goo; writer, John Ostrander; co-plotter, Del Close; artist, David Lloyd. R.ab.; writers, Ostrander and Close; artist and letterer, William Messner-Loebs. Sewer Rat; writers, Close and Ostrander; artist, Don Simpson. Colorist, Lovern Kindzierski; editor, Mike Gold; publisher, DC Comics.

Contemporaneously…

Batman: Through the Looking Glass (2012)

One must assume Batman: Through the Looking Glass was a Legends of the Dark Knight story arc DC didn’t get around to publishing. It’s hard to imagine reading it in issues though, since Bruce Jones’s script is so geared for one sitting. It’s Batman guest starring in Alice in Wonderland, with wonderful art from Sam Keith. It shouldn’t work, yet it does.

A lot of the success is due to Keith. His style fits a Wonderland adaptation, especially this one–characters, depending on the panel, are either fully rendered as anamorphic or their human traits come through. And seeing a forcibly playful rendering of Batman’s habitat is a lot of fun.

Jones’s script has three things going on. First, Batman’s tripping his way through Wonderland. Second, there’s a mystery. Third, there’s Bruce’s damaged psyche. In order for Bruce to solve the mystery–or even recognize it–everything’s got to come together. But it’s a small story; there’s a large, complicated cast, but it’s really just Batman and his sidekick, an Alice stand-in. Splitting the story into issues instead of chapters in one volume would just make it more incomprehensible… and it’s fairly incomprehensible now.

While Jones barely gets personal with Batman–the tripping aside–he and Keith do come up with some interesting “revisions” to the Batman legend. Glass ostensibly tells of Batman’s first encounter with the Mad Hatter, but Robin not wearing a mask is far more interesting.

Glass is wildly creative, bewilderingly confusing and a moderate success.

B-

CREDITS

Writer, Bruce Jones; artist, Sam Keith; colorist, David Baron; letterer, Steve Wands; editor, Mike Carlin; publisher, DC Comics.

The Crow (1994, Alex Proyas)

Has it been long enough since the firearms safety accident on The Crow set to point out Brandon Lee was a really bad actor and his performance in The Crow is laughably awful?

Actually, I don’t care; he’s lousy and the movie’s dumb.

There are good things about The Crow, which is a little surprising, considering the script is awful and Proyas’s seems more concerned with selling the soundtrack album than actually making a film. The good things are Michael Wincott, Ernie Hudson and Jon Polito. All three manage to get out their atrocious dialogue and make it sound good. Especially Wincott. He almost makes his character believable.

But the bad things… Where to even start? Rochelle Davis, the narrator of the film, gives an even worse performance than Lee. The dialogue in David J. Schow and John Shirley’s script is incredibly silly and it’s hard to believe it ever sounding reasonable. But Davis’s performance doesn’t do the (bad) script justice.

Laurence Mason’s bad too, so are Bai Ling and Anna Levine. Especially Ling. David Patrick Kelly and Michael Massee are both reasonably okay. Not good, but okay; okay goes far in The Crow. There’s not a lot okay about it.

On the technical side, Graeme Revell’s score is lousy. It’s probably Proyas’s fault. Revell’s score mostly just provides transitions between Proyas’s mini-music videos for the soundtrack songs. Dariusz Wolski’s photography seems inept, but it could just be the incompetent CG effects.

The Crow is a stupefyingly bad film.

How to Be a Detective (1936, Felix E. Feist)

How to Be a Detective is a disjointed Robert Benchley miniature. He sets it up as a lecture on detecting practices and director Feist (and Benchley and his co-writers) miss the jokes. Towards the end, Feist mimics detective movie filmmaking techniques, which gives the short a boost, but it’s too little too late.

There simply aren’t enough good jokes and Detective drags out one’s set-up for over a minute. It’d be a decent gag if the viewer hadn’t been told to anticipate it for so long.

The final gag’s predictable too–and breaks the short’s narrative logic, which is otherwise pretty neat. Feist uses wipes to distinguish time change, but he keeps folding Detective in on itself. Makes for an interesting time.

Benchley’s fantastic (even he seems to realize the material isn’t the best) and keeps Detective amusing.

The great cameo from Dewey Robinson is an immense help.

Scalped 60 (October 2012)

Given Aaron and Guera created Scalped–and it not being a television series–there’s no reason for cast changes. Reading the final issue, seeing who Aaron concentrates on, one would think there were some big cast changes throughout and the need to reorient the finish.

But there weren’t. Aaron just has the five characters he’s going to end with and it doesn’t matter they don’t have the resonance to carry the issue. Oh, Lincoln does, of course. He’s got an absolutely amazing finish. Carol’s and Dino’s finishes are both stupid, though at least Aaron spends time with Carol’s. With Dino and Falls Down, Aaron thinks any attention is good enough.

As for Dash? After sixty issues, all I’ve learned is he needs to figure out how to use condoms.

Scalped‘s many failures outweigh its not insignificant successes. Aaron clearly needs firm editorial guidance; he didn’t any on Scalped from Vertigo.

CREDITS

Trail’s End, Conclusion; writer, Jason Aaron; artist, R.M. Guera; colorist, Giulia Brusco; letterer, Sal Cipriano; editors, Mark Doyle and Will Dennis; publisher, Vertigo.