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Charlie's French Cinema Nudity site is updated
The Gypsy Moths
This 1969 film about a troupe of barnstorming skydivers has plenty of
positives:
- It paints a picture of small-town America in the days before the mass
media standardized American culture. In those days, the script reminds us,
a skydiving show could be the highlight of everyone's summer. There is one
fascinating scene in which a high school band, after having practiced for
months under the baton of a persnickety martinet, heads into Main Street
on the July 4th parade, only to see it abandoned and looking desolate
because every single person in town is at the big air show.
- It features a great cast which provides a cross-section of Hollywood's
generations. Bert Lancaster, William Windom, Sheree North, and Deborah
Kerr are there from the forties and fifties crowd; Bonnie Bedelia and Gene
Hackman represent the new generation which would emerge in the seventies.
Bedelia was 20 or 21 when she filmed this role, and Hackman was still in
his thirties. Hackman had established himself as a dependable character
actor two years earlier in Bonnie and Clyde, but Popeye Doyle, the role
which would elevate him to leading man status, was still two years in the
future.
- Lancaster and Kerr rekindled the screen sparks they had ignited in
From Here to Eternity - except this time the cultural climate allowed them
to do it with their clothes off. This they did and looked quite good in
the process, even though Lancaster was 56 and Kerr 48.
- It's an unusual experience to see Lancaster play a guy with a
tremendous amount of screen time and virtually no dialogue. He played a
strong, silent guy who kept everything internalized.
- There is some very impressive aerial photography of the skydiving
stunts.
The DVD version of the film can also be characterized as outstanding in
many ways.
- It's rare to have a director's commentary available for a movie which
is about 40 years old. Fortunately, Frankenheimer was still with us long
enough to record the track for this film. I didn't listen to the entire commentary, but I caught about
twenty minutes' worth scattered through the film, and Frankenheimer seemed
to provide an interesting melange of insights. Sometimes he reminisced
about making the movie, and at other times he discussed the actors or the
studio's marketing of the film (or mismarketing, as he saw it, because the
film was barely released). The commentary was interesting enough that I'll
probably go back and listen to the rest someday.
- The DVD producers also managed to find the original trailer and a
fascinating behind-the-scenes look at how the action scenes were filmed.
There's also a fairly interesting, if disappointingly generic, featurette
about real skydivers.
- The widescreen anamorphic transfer of the film is quite satisfactory,
especially for a film four decades old.
Having offered all those kind words, I regret to say that it's only an
average movie, albeit competent and occasionally interesting. It has some
sections which clip along quite nicely, especially the action scenes, but
other parts of the film really drag. There is a full eight minute
conversation (really, I timed it - minutes 40-48, more or less) between
Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster in the middle of the film, and that slows
the film's heart beat down to flat-line status.
The film has an odd kind of vibe to it. Instead of a smooth consistent
tone, it seems like one of those anthologies of short stories where the
stories have a connection, but are written or directed by different people.
The first half of the film is similar to the famous film Picnic, in which an
outsider disturbs the complacency of a small town in summertime. In this
case, all three of the skydivers manage to score one-night stands on their
first night in town, and this virtually rends the time-space continuum in
the town. Lancaster and Kerr, for example, get it on in Kerr's living room
with her husband (Windom) sleeping upstairs, soon to become aware of his
cuckolded condition. The second half of the film consists predominantly of
actual skydiving - much too much of it for my taste, to the point where the
pulse of the film again dropped to corpse status.
Frustratingly, the most important plot development in the entire film is
heavy with ambiguity. The action itself takes place entirely before our
eyes, but we are never clear whether it was intentional or accidental, and
precisely why it went down that way. Then there is a brief post-airshow
epilogue in the film, which offers no insights on the major event, and
instead presents some additional developments in relationships, most of
which weren't fully explained. It was typical in the late sixties and early
seventies to end films with unresolved or unexplained matters, leaving the
viewer a chance to speculate on how various relationships and situations
would develop, and thus to participate in the artistic process. I don't know
whether I miss that form of audience involvement or whether I am relieved to
see it pass, but I do miss the sorts of post-movie conversations we used to
have about matters like, "Why do you think he did that? Did he mean to? What
did such-and-such all mean? What happened to the relationship between X and
Y?" And so forth. It seems that movies have become more transparent, or less
subtle, or both.
Trading Places
Maybe it's just me, but for me these scenes are right up there with
Phoebe Cates in Ridgemont High as some of the greatest nudity in film
history. Jamie Lee truly had a spectacular body.
Here are two HIGH
DEF film clips from Dead Red, and three unadjusted raw snaps I made to show you the
quality of the clips:
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* Yellow asterisk: funny (maybe).
* White asterisk:
expanded format.
*
Blue asterisk: not mine.
No asterisk: it probably
sucks.
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OTHER CRAP:
Catch the deluxe
version of Other Crap in real time, with all the bells and whistles,
here.
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Black Snake Moan
Once in a great while, someone makes a film specifically for me. Oddly, the
film makers don't even know they are doing it. Give me Samuel L. Jackson,
an amazing blues score, and a brilliant performance by a sometimes naked and
continuously underdressed Christina Ricci, and I am happy.
Samuel plays a truck farmer and former blues man whose wife has just left him
for his brother. His support group is a church, but as a drunk and all-around
character, it is an uneasy fit for him. Christina Ricci was abused as a
youngster, and turned into the high school slut. She has a relationship with
Justin Timberlake. He is subject to constant panic attacks, which she is somehow
able to ease. Whenever he is not around, she becomes a nymphomaniac. Timberlake
is off to join the Army, and she is off screwing anything in pants.
Timberlake's best friend beats Christina and dumps her in the middle of a
road, right next to Sam Jackson's place. She is unconscious, and suffering from
a fever and serious cough. Samuel L. decides to heal her, but not just her
immediate medical problems. To make sure she stays around for his healing, he
chains her to a radiator. Ricci and Jackson both eventually find redemption, but
not in expected ways. The two have no sexual tension between them, much less
sexual contact. Yes, she initially tries to bargain her body for freedom, but
when that doesn't work, she is forced to live in her own head for a while.
Samuel L. learned guitar for this film, and was able to actually play all his
tunes in this film, even though the sound track has prerecorded versions. As a
guitarist, I can confirm that Jackson was fingering the guitar correctly. This
is the second time I have fallen in love with a Samuel L. film that did not do
well (the first was The Caveman's Valentine). In this case, I am afraid the
public couldn't get past the idea of an old ornery black man chaining a young
half naked white woman to the radiator of his house. With brilliant performances
from Samuel and Christina Ricci, an amazing blues score, great cinematography,
and insightful looks at racial, age, gender, and social position issues, what is
not to like? In reading the first several comments at IMDb, it seems to me that
everyone who has actually seen this film has loved it. I have ordered the sound
track, and will watch the film again and again. If you have an open mind, watch
it. If you also love the blues, buy it.
I think the box office problem had to do with marketing, not the quality of
the film, and hence score it a B-.
IMDb readers say 7.4, but the film was not a box office success,
only earning $9.4M against a $15M budget. Berardinelli awarded 3 1/2 stars,
clearly getting it. Rotten Tomatoes gives it 66%, with 50% from the top critics.
Scoop's note: I agree with Tuna's analysis and have no problem
seconding the B-. It should have been a hit, dammit, or at least a
success. The film was mis-marketed as an exploitation film (white girl
chained to radiator in black man's house), when it should have been
presented as the thoughtful and compassionate drama that it is, albeit one
with a very steamy, almost naked Christina Ricci smack dab in the middle
of it. Maybe it would still have bombed, but it could have bombed
honestly. As Tuna notes, most people who have seen it really liked it.
(See Dann's review below.)
Props to Ricci for a good job in a role with significant psychological
and physical challenges. Here's one more cap of her bum in the deleted
scenes:

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Notes and collages
Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger
... I made this collage just to talk about the lengths someone will go
through to be titillating without getting an R rating at the box office. If
you look behind Ms. Seymour you will see the river flowing normally in
contrast to our lady who is so "frozen in fear" that not a follicle of hair is
disturbed off her half exposed breast.
Silly.
...and by the way, if you are going to watch a Sinbad film, "The Seventh
Voyage of Sinbad" is the original of the series and ten times the best of
them: no nudity but a great plot.
I have wondered why (over the years) that Hollywood didn't remake that
story with modern CGI...oh well
Jane Seymour ... Part 2 |
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Dragonard
If you are going to make a movie against slavery and racism, please don't make
one where a white man is a slave so he ends up saving all the black people from slavery, it doesn't add up.
The movie is bad. Oliver Reed plays drunk almost 90% of his
screen time. Patrick Warburton, who plays the lead here, is so bad I don't know how he ended up making a career
of acting, and what is weirder is that in hissecond movie, he played the same character in the sequel to this so-called
movie
Good Lord, I don't want to see that one.
Nonetheless, I will recommend this movie, because Claudia Udy and her two nips
(I'm sure they have a life of their own) have a great Cleopatra dance scene, and Annabel Schofield is a hotty too.
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Black Snake Moan
A unique story by writer/director Craig Brewer and excellent
performances by Christina Ricci and Samuel L. Jackson make this 2007 drama
way above average, and unlike Jackson's last, it really has nothing to do
with snakes.
Rae (Christina Ricci) was sexually abused as a child, giving her a
warped view of sexuality. She is well known for wild partying and screwing
anything in sight, although she deeply loves her live-in boyfriend. When
the boyfriend ships out with the National Guard, Rae, extremely upset,
goes on a drugs/booze/sex binge, and winds up terribly beaten and half
naked on a country road.
Laz, a God-fearing farmer/blues musician, finds her and decides he has
been called not only to care for her, but also to make her well
spiritually. His methods are somewhat unconventional, so Rae wakes up in
chains.
Great storyline, great acting, Christina Ricci naked....what more could
you possibly want?
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Christina Ricci |
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The Comedy Wire
A suspect in Israel was placed under house arrest with an
electronic ankle monitor, but when police arrived at his home to take him to his
sentencing hearing, he had disappeared. Somehow, he'd managed to slip the
monitor off his leg and put it around the neck of his dog, which had been
walking around the apartment simulating him.
* Eating, scratching himself, drinking out of the toilet.
It was an uncanny simulation!
* The cops who were monitoring him couldn't get over the way that guy could
lick his own crotch.
* If Paris Hilton had slipped her ankle monitor onto her annoying, brainless,
two-pound Chihuahua, they never would've noticed the difference.
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