Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn 1980. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng
Hiển thị các bài đăng có nhãn 1980. Hiển thị tất cả bài đăng

Thứ Hai, 8 tháng 12, 2014

PROM NIGHT - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Classic Canuck Slasher Pic Gets a Stellar and Most Deserving Synapse BLU-RAY (in Canada via VSC)

A MAN
WITH AN AXE
TO GRIND
HAS A DATE

WITH YOU
FOR THE PROM!!!
Prom Night (1980)
Dir. Paul Lynch
Starring: Jamie Lee Curtis, Leslie Nielsen, Antoinette Bower, Robert A. Silverman, George Touliatos, David Gardner, Michael Tough, Anne-Marie Martin (AKA "Eddie Benton"), Joy Thompson, Marybeth Rubens, Casey Stevens, Jeff Wincott, David Mucci

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The slasher film exploded on the scene with a vengeance from the mid-70s to the 80s, "vengeance" being the operative word. Often involving a masked and/or fleetingly-glimpsed stalker with a bone to pick, this sub genre of horror was typified by young babes and hunks receiving their violent comeuppance at the hands of said killer. The scares were mostly rooted in shock cuts and the films' plots were coat hangers with which to hang a series of grotesquely gory killings upon.

Though America ended up popularizing the slasher film to almost ludicrously successful degrees during the reign of Rompin' Ronnie Reagan (the Halloween and Friday the 13th franchises leading the charge), it was, in fact, the Italians (via the gialli and most notably, Mario Bava's Twitch of the Death Nerve) and Canadians (from A Christmas Story director Bob Clark and his viciously viscous yuletide thriller Black Christmas) who hitched their horses to the post first.

Canada's history of transgressive cinema surely begins with horror films whilst working in tandem with a first-rate tax credit during this period and the country was responsible for more than its fair share of slasher epics. Prom Night is one of the very best slasher films ever made. Directed by Paul Lynch, the erudite Liverpool ex-pat in Toronto, Prom Night couldn't have been more far removed (at least on the surface) from his John Grierson/NFB-influenced feature dramas The Hard Part Begins, a gritty dive into tank town country and western bars and Blood & Guts, a journey into the sleazy world of professional wrestling. In many ways, though, Lynch's foray into the slasher oeuvre yielded the kind of anthropological observation of the period and astonishingly iconic images of horror that could only have come from a genuinely visionary filmmaker.

In lieu of hundreds, if not thousands of similar films made since, the simple narrative of Prom Night might suggest something fairly by-rote and even by the standards of the time it might have felt as such, though if truth be told, my own first helping of the picture first-run in 1980 yielded a genuine barrage of gooseflesh upon my then-youthful frame. Watching it again on the sumptuously-transferred Blu-Ray from Synapse Films and VSC, the movie not only sparked fond memories of its almost-religious litany of visual frissons, but astonished me - almost 35 years after first seeing it - by Lynch's phenomenal eye for the details of teen life during that period.

The tale wrought, albeit somewhat familiar now (though being one of the first of its kind, no fault of its own), begins with the accidental death of a little girl at the hands of her peers. It fast forwards six years later to the night of the prom which would have been her first as a junior, if she'd have lived. With enough red herrings to throw us off the scent of the true identity of the revenge-seeker, we follow the rigorously observed preparations, social interactions and mating rituals of teens, parents and teachers alike on the day of the prom. Once the festivities begin proper, we're treated to a chilling check-list of blood-soaked killings until the film's astonishingly choreographed climactic set-piece involving the killer, one of his intended-victims and the ass-kicking gymnastics of 70s/80s scream-queen Jamie Lee Curtis (progeny of Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis and star of John Carpenter's Halloween).

HOT BABES
SEVERED
HEADS
All the above is courtesy of director Lynch, screenwriter William (The Changeling) Gray and story writer Robert Guza Jr. (30-year-head writer of, I kid you not, General Hospital). Prom Night is written and directed to beat the band and it paid off in spades. On every level, it's a genuine horror classic thanks to its talents off and on the screen.

The casting is impeccable. Though Jamie Lee Curtis herself is slightly long-in-tooth compared to her fellow High School peers, she delivers a fun, smirking, wise-acre sensibility to the role that sets her far apart as the film's genuine and rightful star. In fact, her performance here is so good, it far exceeds her pre-and-post Prom Night work in Halloween and Terror Train respectively. It's here where we discover the beginnings of her sexy, funny and breezy talents that would best be exemplified years later in A Fish Called Wanda, Trading Places and Perfect.

The youthful cast surrounding Curtis, comprised mostly of burgeoning Canuck thespians, in addition to the formidable presence of Vagina, Saskatchewan-native Leslie Nielsen as the principal of the besieged Hamilton High (to be seen soon-after in the Airplane and Naked Gun franchises) and a stalwart roll-call of Canuck character actors as various teachers, cops and townsfolk, Lynch populates his film with a first-rate cast which blows away most of the assemblages of onscreen talent in other pictures of the slasher genre.

Some of the more outstanding members of the supporting cast include the terrific Canadian character actor and David Cronenberg regular Robert A. Silverman, especially great as the cancer-ridden artist in The Brood, and here playing a creepy school caretaker, an absolutely hilarious David Gardner straight-facedly spouting some of the most ridiculous psychiatric mumbo-jumbo captured on film, David Mucci as an utterly repellent unibrowed teen stud, stalwart Canadian TV and stage actress Antoinette Bower as the unhinged Mom of the little dead girl, plus Jeff Wincott, eventual action hero and Broadway star in one of his earliest movie roles.

Last, but certainly not least, the absolutely ravishing, sexy, blonde ice-princess villainess played by a brilliant Anne-Marie Martin (credited as "Eddie Benton" and years later, fulfilling the real-life role as Mrs. Michael Crichton). Hubba-Hubba defines this morsel of erection-inducing evil.

Great Canadian Character Actor: ROBERT A. SILVERMAN
Creepy Caretaker in PROM NIGHT, Cancer Victim in THE BROOD

Given the film's not-so obvious low budget, its look tends to also make mincemeat out of the period's other slasher films. Lynch brings a borderline documentary mise-en-scene to the proceedings which situate us in a time and place that was more than familiar to those who saw the movie in 1980 and astoundingly, brings everyone else back to it via the naturalistic time-machine-like essence of his direction. The varied, somewhat bucolic locations of a long-ago-and-far-away Toronto (albeit adorned with American flags), treat us to the leafy lawns of Canada's first planned suburban environment of Don Mills, actual schools secured by the co-producer who was actually a high school teacher with the Toronto Board of Education and the major setting of the abandoned building of death (a notorious Toronto asylum) from the picture's creepy opening.

Add to this the superb interior details of Rueben Freed's art direction, the perfect-for-and-of-the-period hair (really BIG), the garish makeup (really HORRENDOUS) and teflon costumes (undeniably UGLY) and we know we're in a film made by real filmmakers who know that such details make for a good picture that's also commercial as opposed to jaded market-driven accountants who generate machine-tooled money-grabs bereft of style and artistry.

The choreography on the dance floor, as well as the choreography of the action/suspense sequences is top of the line and most exquisite of all are the makeup and special effects (both sound and picture) which accompany the delectable killings. Given the picture's attention to detail and yes, even character, the body count gets to have its cake and eat it to by being equally thrilling as it is sickeningly horrifying.

And lest we forget that all of this is underscored by the tremendous music from the team of Carl (Black Christmas, Deranged: Confessions of a Necrophile) Zittrer and Paul (My Bloody Valentine, Popcorn) Zaza, the former focusing with Zittrer on the virtually Canadian-horror sounds-of-music from the period and the latter solely and astonishingly delivering the remarkable disco score.

Adorning Lynch's miss-en-scene is the piece de resistance of the cinematography by Michael New with its superb compositional qualities, effective lighting and superlative tracking and dolly shots, all without the benefit of today's ubiquitous steadicams. Especially delightful is the film's refusal to be afraid of grain when it rears its beautiful head - as much an effect of the picture's budget as it is the filmmakers clearly anticipating its inevitability and blending those lovely, dancing speckles perfectly within the film's narrative and aesthetic.

The film's iconic imagery, the black snow mask of the killer, the composition involving the slasher gripping his axe in the dark hallways and most indelibly, the never-to-be-forgotten shot of a gorgeous victim-to-be as she raises her head slightly above the top of a black science lab table until we glimpse her terrified eyes as they reflect eerily and murkily upon the surface of the desk, lit only by the exterior street lamps casting their glow upon the lab through the big, smudgy, frost-paned windows.

One of the many great tag lines that accompanied the picture's inspired marketing campaign announced:

"If you're not back by midnight... you won't be coming home."

Don't make the mistake of Hamilton High's victims. Come home, come back to the joy and genius that is Prom Night, the slasher film of a generation, the little engine that could and the one true crowning glory of the entire oeuvre.

THE FILM CORNER RATING:
**** 4-Stars (film)
***** 5-stars (the Synapse Films/VSC Special Edition Blu-Ray)

For both fans of the film and eager students of filmmaking, the Special Edition Blu-Ray of Prom Night from the visionary Synapse Films and released in Canada via the equally visionary VSC, you simply can't go wrong with this mega-keeper of home entertainment packages. The 2K scan of the HD transfer in 16x9/1.78.1 is magnificent - so much so I doubt the film has looked this good since its first 35mm prints in theatrical release (in addition to both the original, gorgeously mixed-mono tracks and a 5.1 surround sound mix created just for the Blu-Ray). The extra features are a fountain of delights: Plenty of trailers, TV-spots, Radio-Spots and stills, all providing a glimpse at truly ingenious motion picture marketing; a good half-hour of never-before-seen outtakes, a short, but fascinating glimpse into the footage added to the TV versions to stretch it out when the shower scenes needed to be trimmed for primetime, including some excellent and genuinely humorous scenes involving Leslie Nielsen, Jamie Lee Curtis and Hamilton High's ditzy temp secretary); a decent feature length commentary track which includes some terrific observations by Lynch and screenwriter Graham. Alas, the pathetic non-moderation of moderator Paul Jankiewicz does little to rein things in properly and given Lynch's observations in interviews over the years as well as his moments in the disc's accompanying making-of documentary, there are many missed opportunities to delve more specifically into more practical and artistic aspects of the filmmaking process. The real cherry on the ice cream sundae here is the aforementioned doc. Entitled "The Horrors of Hamilton High", this 40-minute short film is obviously the work of people who know and love the film and it features anecdotal meanderings only when necessary (like Leslie Nielsen's on-set penchant for utilizing a fart-sound gizmo almost constantly during production) and a whole clutch of superb practical information on the aesthetics of filmmaking and storytelling that should have been on the commentary track if it had been properly moderated. That said, the commentary is worth the price of slogging through if only to hear the seemingly gentle-toned Lynch deride "Terror Train" director Roger Spottiswood for scumbaggishly going against his word to Lynch. Amusingly, Lynch refers to Spottiswood as the director of "Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot". I could only have been happier if he'd added his own experience at the hands of turncoat Roger to that of poor Sam Peckinpah's when the Ottawa-born filmmaker ended up playing studio hack during the butchering of the masterpiece "Pat Garret and Billy the Kid". Well, we can dream, can't we? In any event, slight disappointment with the commentary track aside, the Blu-Ray Special Edition of Prom Night is easily one of the best discs of the year!

Thứ Hai, 6 tháng 10, 2014

Klymkiw reviews 3 Classics presented as retrospective screenings at the 2014 (FNC) Festival du nouveau cinéma in Montreal. Samuel Fuller's THE BIG RED ONE, Ken Russell's CRIMES OF PASSION, King Hu's DRAGON INN

From D-Day to the Liberation of the
Death Camps, LEE MARVIN leads an
all-star cast in SAMUEL FULLER'S
autobiographical masterpiece of
WORLD WAR II.
The Big Red One: The Reconstruction (1980/2004)
Dir. Samuel Fuller
Starring: Lee Marvin, Mark Hamill, Robert Carradine, Bobby Di Cicco, Kelly Ward, Siegfried Rauch, Stéphane Audran

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Samuel Fuller made films that pulsated with the stuff of life and yet, at the same time, crackled with the pulpy, hard-boiled crispness of paperback potboilers and tabloid news rags. The guy was a true original and his 1980 classic The Big Red One practically reeks with the stench of death.

It's one of the great war movies of all time and is quite possibly one of the few explorations of men in battle to benefit from an exquisite amalgam of both the terrible truths it conveys and Fuller's terse, almost machine-gun-like style of presentation. Fuller, of course brought the life experience of being an investigative reporter to bear upon all his films, but he also infused them with his horrific exposure to the senseless waste of humanity during his years as an infantryman in the legendary Big Red One of the title.

Fuller himself was present at D-Day and made it to the liberation of Nazi Death Camps. He knew what it was like to be in battle and he especially understood both male camaraderie and the sickening heartache of encountering the remnants of massive genocide. He put all of this into The Big Red One.

Though he approved a much shorter version of the picture for theatrical release, he always regretted not holding out for his lengthier version. Thanks to a shooting script, detailed notes and the dogged persistence of film critic Richard Schickel, we're now able to experience a version of the film that's much closer to what Fuller intended.

It's one corker of a war movie - touching, exciting, wildly humorous and finally, deeply moving. With gruff Lee Marvin leading the charge, Robert Carradine as a cigar-chomping Fuller surrogate and a post-Star Wars Mark Hamill, we're told the tale of several survivors through a harrowing tour of duty. Bodies blow to bits, blood splashes liberally, tanks creak over raw terrain and finally, we experience the charred remains in Nazi Death Ovens.

Fuller hands us one episode after another that evokes the horror of war. Lee Marvin, especially, gives the performance of a lifetime. Seeing him befriend a starving child-survivor of the Death Camp is proof positive of Marvin's versatility.

It might also be the only time Lee Marvin will have you in tears.

NOTE: Samuel Fuller's daughter Samantha, who played a war orphan in The Big Red One, will be present at the FNC screening to introduce the film and engage in a question and answer session.

THE FILM CORNER RATING:
***** - Five Stars



I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL SAVE YOU! HARLOT!
Crimes of Passion (1984)
Dir. Ken Russell
Starring: Kathleen Turner, Anthony Perkins

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This is a rare opportunity to see Ken Russell's deliciously scary, funny and perverse thriller in 35mm, thanks to screenwriter Barry Sandler's collection at the Academy Film Archive. (Sandler will also be present for the screening.) It's sometimes hard to believe certain films are as old as they are. Crimes of Passion turns 30-years-of-age and it feels as insanely cutting-edge and over-the-top as it did when I first saw it first-run. FNC will be screening the rare director’s cut which has been available on DVD, but I can assure you, there's nothing like seeing its grotesque colours and glorious grain on actual film. You'll be able to thrill to Kathleen Turner's sexually-explicit, no-holds-barred performance as a repressed housewife who transforms herself by night into the ultra-hote-babe China Blue.

This alluring, albeit low-track street hooker, engages in all manner of aggressive sexual gymnastics as an addictive, though empty antidote to frigidity. Matching Turner's brilliant, outrageous performance is everyone's favourite Psycho Anthony Perkins as a demented preacher malevolently stalking her. He will save China Blue, even if he has to eventually snuff her out. She has another stalker, though. He wants to love her. Oh, what's a $50-per-trick hooker supposed to do? Decisions. Decisions.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** - Four Stars

Beware of sneaky, sword-wielding EUNUCHS!!!
Dragon Inn (1967)
Dir. King Hu
Starring: Bai Ying, Miao Tien, Han Ying-chieh, Shih Chun, Cho Kin, Hsieh Han

Review By Greg Klymkiw

In the middle of nowhere lies the last outpost before the border, a godforsaken hellhole called the Dragon Gate Inn. This is where political exiles are banished to during the Ming Dynasty of ancient China. When the cruel Emperor executes one of his officials, the unfortunate's family are booted out of town and sent packing to the ends of the earth. Sadly, exile isn't their only problem since the big bad ruler has sent a nasty eunuch to spy on them and eventually effect their deathly eradication from the planet. Like some mad kung-fu spaghetti western, a whole passel of deadly killers descend upon the Inn and we're treated to intrigue and action. King Hu was one of the grand masters of cinema and his masterpiece Dragon Inn was recently afforded a gorgeous 4K digital restoration - all the better to take in the sumptuous vistas, cleverly composed (and designed) interiors and the astounding choreography and direction of some of the most stirring sword fights and hand-to-hand combat ever wrought within martial arts movies. Hu's frame is always lively, his moves masterful and his sense of spatial geography always dead-on. Here you'll have the opportunity to witness a director at the peak of his considerable powers, working in tandem with ace choreographer and action helmer Han Ying-chieh. Between the two of them, Dragon Inn is one of the most thriller martial arts pictures of all time - one which influenced Tsui Hark, John Woo, Jacky Chan, Ang Lee, Zhang Yimou and yes, Quentin Tarantino. It's a classic in all respects. Best of all, it feels like it could have been made yesterday.

The skill and technique on display has not dated one single, solitary bit and you'll constantly be catching your breath, doing double takes and needing to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming. And even though it feels as modern as all get-out in terms of its movie-making sophistication and savvy, the fact truly remains that they actually don't make 'em like this anymore.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** - 4-Stars

For further information visit the FNC - Festival international du nouveau cinéma de Montréal website HERE. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ORDER THE AFOREMENTIONED FILMS FROM AMAZON BY USING THE LINKS BELOW, AND IN SO DOING, SUPPORT THE ONGING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER.

Thứ Ba, 8 tháng 7, 2014

PIKOO (Pikoor Diary) & SADGATI ( The Deliverance) - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Two Short Mid-Length Television Films by Satyajit Ray - The Films of Satyajit Ray @ TIFF Bell Lightbox #tiffcinematheque

Don't miss a single one of these great films on display at TIFF Bell Lightbox in the TIFF Cinematheque series "The Sun and the Moon: The Films of Satyajit Ray". From visionary programmer James Quandt, this is one of the most important retrospectives ever presented in Canada. If you care about cinema, you can't afford to miss even one. Heed the warning below!!! The Film Corner & Mr. Neeson mean business!!!


The evil of castes in Sadgati (above),
the tragedy of infidelity in Pikoo (below).
Satyajit Ray used the medium of idiocy to transmit
work that tackled important themes that genuinely affected
and continue to affect the lives of people all over the world.
Two Short
Television Films
By Satyajit Ray


Pikoo [Pikoor Diary] (1980) *****
Dir. Satyajit Ray
Starring: Arjun Guha Thakurta, Aparna Sen, Promod Ganguli, Victor Banerjee, Soven Lahiri

Sadgati [Deliverance] (1981) *****
Dir. Satyajit Ray
Starring: Om Puri, Mohan Agashe, Gita Siddharth, Smita Patil, Richa Mishra

Review By
Greg Klymkiw


Prepare to be devastated. Satyajit Ray's in the house. Two short films he made for television during the 1980s and in glorious colour, no less (juxtaposing the lush, stunning compositions with the dark subject matter), are movies that pack enormous wallops from within their slender running times, a mere 28 minutes for Pikoo and a slightly longer mid-length running time at 52 minutes for Sadgati.

We're talking 80 minutes to be completely drained by Ray's staggering portraits of infidelity and India's foul, backwards caste system respectively. Both movies offer far more food for thought and dramatic punch than the vast majority of films made back then. As for now, most films do little more than offer ephemeral frissons for audiences too indoctrinated to realize they've being force-fed buckets of faecal matter by cash-grubbing, cynical nest-featherers. These two films are both monumental achievements and stand as a testament to their filmmaker, but also the visionary broadcasters who allowed Ray to make these stunning, short one-off dramas. There are certainly few, if any, contemporary broadcasters who'd allow this now and chances are, none of them know who Satyajit Ray was anyway and worse, wouldn't know great filmmaking even if it was represented by some meaty schwance slapping them in the face through a glory hole with a little sign dangling from said appendage that specifically indicated the content of the communion host they were about to receive down their greedy gullets.

Pikoo creates a slice of life in the acrimonious existence of an affluent family which results in a tragic event that should have been avoided, but given the social conditions a patriarchal society creates, it almost seems inevitable. Much of this tale is recounted through the eyes of a little boy, the title character. His love for his Mother and Grandfather are passionate and intense, though his feelings for his father seem almost non-existent. Ray provides a hint in the film's opening that the patriarch of this household is an uncommunicative, absent prig who spends more time preparing himself for a day at work than bothering to even acknowledge his sweet little boy. All poor Pikoo can get is a half-hearted wave from his Dad as the distracted breadwinner drives off to work.

Pikoo's mother affords the boy with love and attention, but even she is distracted. Firstly, she's more than a tad preoccupied by learning that her husband is aware of her infidelity. Strangely and just a bit selfishly, and in spite of the fact that she and her husband have argued all night (which we find out when Pikoo confides this to his ailing grandfather), the lonely Jezebel spends far too much time fretting that her lover (described to Pikoo as an interior decorator who must be addressed as "Uncle") will carve out time from his day to come over and deliver the vigorous poking she requires.

The story unravels with canny simplicity and leads to a horrendous moment of reckoning that affects everyone, but especially the innocent party in this whole sordid affair - a sweet little boy who is far too young to be aware of the sickening reality of his family's domestic strife and worst of all, having to make a discovery that will haunt him forever.

If Pikoo isn't enough to drag you through hot coals, Sadgati (aka Deliverance) will pretty much stuff you screaming into the flames dancing ever-so menacingly in a wood-burning stove. A tanner wishes to receive a blessing and advice on the most auspicious day to hold his daughter's wedding. The local Panditji (Hindu Brahmin Priest) is more than willing to oblige, but as the tanner is of the lowest social strata, our Man o' God cavalierly demands the father-in-law-to-be perform the most menial, back-breaking physical labour.

What occurs is one of the most harrowing and savage indictments of India's caste system imaginable. The Holy Man regards the Tanner with such contempt that his demands are tantamount to torture. He knows the poor guy recently suffered from a debilitating fever, yet he forces him to chop wood from a petrified log using only a dull, rusty axe. The task is impossible, but the Paditji takes an almost sadistic pleasure in both humiliating the man and forcing him to carry out the physically draining work in the hot sun, without food, drink or adequate rest. As the tanner goes about the business of sheer futility, the Panditji takes naps. Between naps, he barks out orders and insults.

The result of this act of psychopathic abuse is cruel and pointless. The aftermath is even more sickening. Ray uses colour in this film to its fullest juxtapositional effect. You will, I guarantee you, never forget the gorgeous sunset upon the rich dark countryside as a man's rotting corpse is dragged through the mud and unceremoniously dumped with utter disdain.

Pikoo and Sadgati are, once again, two more masterworks from Satyajit Ray. Whether he delivered feature drama, short works of fiction and even occasional documentary portraits, there are few filmmakers who have (or ever will) achieve the long string of greatness he delivered.

Pikoo & Sadgati are presented together at TIFF Bell Lightbox on July 11, 2014 at 9:30pm as part of the TIFF Cinematheque series "The Sun and the Moon: The Films of Satyajit Ray". This might be your only chance to see this masterpiece the way it was meant to be seen, so get your tickets NOW and GO. Visit the TIFF website for further details by clicking HERE.

DON'T FORGET TO BUY YOUR SATYAJIT RAY MOVIES FROM THE LINKS TO AMAZON.CA, AMAZON.COM and AMAZON.UK, BELOW. DOING SO WILL ASSIST WITH THE ONGOING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER.

*BUYERS PLEASE NOTE* Amazon.ca (Canadian Amazon) has a relatively cruddy collection of Satyajit Ray product and generally shitty prices. Amazon.com has a huge selection of materials (including music and books) and decent prices. Amazon.UK has a GREAT selection of Satyajit Ray movies from a very cool company called Artificial Eye (second these days only to the Criterion Collection). Any decent Chinatown sells region-free Blu-Ray and DVD players for peanuts. Just get one (or several - they can be that cheap) and don't be afraid of ordering from foreign regions. The fucking film companies should just merge the formats into one acceptable delivery method worldwide. Besides, you can order anything you want from any country anyway.

AMAZON.CA:


AMAZON.COM:



AMAZON.UK:

Thứ Năm, 6 tháng 12, 2012

HEAVEN'S GATE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - KLYMKIW CHRISTMAS GIFT IDEA 2012 #11: The exquisite Criterion Collection Director's Cut Blu-Ray edition of Michael Cimino's classic epic western and one of the most hotly anticipated titles amongst movie-loving collectors.

In this continuing series devoted to reviewing motion pictures ideal for this season of celebration and gift giving, here is KLYMKIW CHRISTMAS GIFT IDEA 2012 #11: The exquisite Criterion Collection Blu-Ray (or, if you must, DVD) of Michael Cimino's notorious, unfairly maligned, utterly mad, strangely compelling and yes, classic epic western Heaven's Gate.

Heaven's Gate (1980) *****
dir. Michael Cimino
Starring: Kris Kristofferson, Christopher Walken, John Hurt, Sam Waterston, Brad Dourif, Isabelle Huppert, Joseph Cotten, Jeff Bridges, Geoffrey Lewis, Paul Koslo, Richard Masur, Ronnie Hawkins, David Mansfield, Terry O’Quinn, Tom Noonan, Mickey Rourke

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Heaven's Gate is a sprawling, glorious, poetic, elegiac, subversive and stark ravingly bonkers epic of the Old West, and why, oh why, shouldn't it be?

Written and directed by a passionate, movie-mad iconoclast of the first order, director Michael Cimino had already delivered the memorable Clint Eastwood/Jeff Bridges crime bro-mance Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974) and the heart-stopping Vietnam epic The Deer Hunter (1978). Heaven's Gate came two years after the The Deer Hunter's multi-Oscar-cleanup. (Best Picture was presented by John Wayne just prior to his death, and a somewhat bittersweet moment considering how Wayne's own Vietnam tome, The Green Berets was universally reviled for its pro-war stance some ten or so years earlier.)

Heaven's Gate was and continues to be a worthy third feature for Cimino, but only now, thanks to Criterion, it can finally be appreciated for what it is (a $40-million-dollar art film of the highest order) than for what it isn't (a bloated piece of crap).

Did the film befuddle American critics? Indeed. Did the film die a merciless death at the box office, destroy an entire studio (United Artists) and put the power of green-lighting and having final say over all aesthetic matters into the hands of pencil-pushing accountants? Sadly, yes - but the fault is clearly not the picture's, but that of all the boneheads at every level of the process who just didn't get it.

Heaven's Gate - now, and in its current form and all its shining glory - is a movie that has outlasted virtually every pathetic, forgettable box office blockbuster that followed in its wake during the worst period (artistically) of movie history, the 1980s. The movie now exists, in the form its director envisioned and it's clear it will live well beyond even the present.

As for the time being, or rather the present, Heaven's Gate brilliantly speaks to the current political and financial position the world finds itself in NOW. We live in a world ruled by a money=and-power-hungry New World Order, a One World government comprised of only the very wealthy and bereft of any concern beyond personal interests and, most chillingly (and at any cost), the culling of what they view as the dregs of humanity. The state of the America right now is not a far cry from the days depicted in Cimino's masterpiece.

His picture is loosely based upon the Johnson County War that occurred in the state of Wyoming in 1892. Similar shameful incidents were happening all over America in the Post-Civil-War period, but none were as blatant and horrendous as what happened here. This was a war waged BY Americans (rich, of course) UPON Americans (poor, naturally) and with the blessing of the American government at Federal, State, military and even County levels.

The 216-minute director's cut of Heaven's Gate follows a group of Harvard graduates who have eventually settled in the wild west and built-up huge cattle empires. James Averill (Kris Kristofferson), though wealthy and well-educated has chosen to uphold the law of the land as a local marshall. His old college chum Billy (John Hurt) ineffectually opposes his cattle-grubbing colleagues with little more than nasty quips and avoiding overt confrontation by burying himself deeper and deeper into alcohol.

Nate Champion (Christopher Walken) is a struggling rancher who finances his desire for success by coldly working as a hired assassin for the cattle barons looking to wipe out new settlers. Both James and Nate are in love with the same woman (in classic Western tradition). Ella (Isabelle Huppert), a wealthy brothel-keeper and prostitute loves both men, but as she doesn't charge James to sleep with her, it's safe to say her hankerings slant a bit more in his direction.

And, of course, no western will ever be complete without a big-time villain and in Heaven's Gate, it comes to us in the form of the downright greedy and villainous Frank Canton (Sam Waterston) who convinces his wealthy colleagues into creating a death list to wholesale slaughter their competition (asserting that the poor New Americans are thieves and anarchists). An army of assassins is hired and the inevitable clash between rich and poor is only a matter of time.

When things look their bleakest during the battle, Cimino delightfully resorts to the last minute salvation of bringing in the calvary. (This, however, is a Michael Cimino film, and as such, this mad dash perversely resembles a similar climax in D.W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation wherein the calvary turns out to be . . . well, you can watch both great movies from opposite ends of cinema's century to see for yourself.

This is pretty much all the plot. There are a few tributaries that run from it, but it is, for the most part, extremely simple and straightforward - AS IT SHOULD BE. The best movies always have a simply crafted and solid wooden coat hanger to drape a whole lotta cool shit upon so it looks magnificent. (As Joan Crawford would have her adopted daughter Christina believe, wire hangers were much too flimsy and should only be used - if at all - for product puked-up by bargain basements.)

Oh! And what glorious cool shit Cimino delivers. Not that I think any of it is superfluous - it's precisely what gives the film its poetic qualities. Infusing the simple narrative with the stuff dreams are made of, Cimino treats us to one sequence after another. Each provides stunning set pieces that place you directly in the WORLD of the film and furthermore, the blend of sumptuous images (rendered by cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond) and aurally tantalizing music (by David Mansfield) verge on the hypnotic.

Alas, many of these scenes (which frankly are some of the greatest in film history) were, at the time of the film's release and in subsequent re-assessments, treated by most lazy scribes as self-indulgence of the lowest order. To them, I politely say, "Fuck you and the nag you rode in on!"

One sequence the pseuds always crap on is the film's opening 20-or-so minutes - a graduation ceremony at Harvard which rivals the wedding scene at the Lemko Hall in The Deer Hunter. The difference, of course, is that Heaven's Gate features hundreds of young men and women in their finery, partaking of their revelry in the most cultured, privileged manner, whilst in The Deer Hunter, Cimino gives us a whole whack of Ukrainians who go from the solemn pomp of the Orthodox cathedral to the mad, furious, drunken pigs-at-the-trough debauchery that resembles a Cossack victory piss-up after an especially successful day of pillaging.

Just prior to the stunning waltz on the lawns of Oxford (standing in for Harvard - as if I, a lowly Ukrainian would know the difference anyway) Cimino delivers an insane series of speeches that go on forever - one by Joseph Cotton as the Reverend Doctor and a graduation oratory from John Hurt. Critics also complained these went on forever and made no sense. They can auto-fellate themselves for all I care. I'd have been happy for those speeches to go on even longer.

In Heaven's Gate, Cimino uses this entire opening sequence to visually establish the ideals and rituals of a privileged class of youthful Americans and lulls us with a complete waltz before we're jack-hammered with the severe contrast of the wild west, the heat hanging thick as a good, hearty borscht and the swirls of dust muting the glorious blazing sun.

Cimino also continues his seeming obsession with the glorious lifeforce of piggish Ukrainians and other assorted Eastern European barbarians. In The Deer Hunter, they work in the steel plant and in Heaven's Gate, they're up to their eyeballs in cow shit. In both, they're especially adept at boozing, fucking and fighting.

I have no idea why Cimino has chosen "my people" for such hilariously accurate depictions, but it's pretty welcome to this fella'. (In 1985's Year of the Dragon, Mickey Rourke plays a Pole - same diff'.) Hell, even David Mansfield's beautiful Heaven's Gate score occasionally makes use of a Ukrainian folk song that was a HUGE part of my childhood, "Ой чорна я си, чорна" (transliteration: "Oy, Chorna Ya Sy, Chrona" and translation/meaning of song: two dark-haired, dark-skinned Uke lovers who coo too each other how they're made for each other because they're black as Earth). What's strange is that Mansfield only makes use of the folk song as revelry once and for the rest of the movie, he slows the tempo and manages to pull out every ounce of all Ukrainian music's dirge-like qualities (even "happy" Uke songs sound like funeral dirges or can be easily adapted into said dirges).

Mansfield's work is phenomenal all round. His various waltz themes are so haunting and romantic that you'll not get the main waltz out of your head - EVER! What I love about Cimino's use of Mansfield's music is that he's never afraid to lay it down wall to wall. This is a bold move that pays off since the film is all about VISUAL storytelling and as such, Cimino employs a combination of old studio styling with that of silent cinema.

Mansfield, is however, something else altogether and his virtuosity is on display in the movie as a character also. In an astounding sequence in the social hub of Johnson County, the "Heaven's Gate" roller rink, bar, community hall and flophouse (its manager is played by Jeff Bridges), all the settlers assemble for a glorious, old fashioned western dance. Cimino goes a step beyond John Ford here and puts everyone on roller skates. Does this sound nuts? Well, it kind of is, but he delivers a sequence that is so indicative of the film's emotional core that this "indulgence" pays off in spades.

And, of course, he gives us Mansfield on-camera with his band and a scene that will burn itself into your cerebellum to your final death gasps - Mansfield, on roller skates, fiddling like there's no tomorrow.

Cimino's eye throughout his western epic is the stuff only truly great artists in visual mediums are blessed with. His lengthy set-pieces are on a par with any of the finest delivered throughout the ages.

This is really such a great film, it still shocks me how it was used as a scapegoat to deflect responsibility from incompetent studio weasels to an artist who should have been allowed to create a steady canon of work.

My memories of its first release are still vivid.

I was, in those halcyon days, a huge Cimino fan. I loved his first two features, followed his pre-directing solo career as a screenwriter with considerable interest and in 1980, I could hardly wait until his new movie would be unleashed. That said, I briefly regarded an old friend's prognostication prior to its release when he declared that "Heaven's Gate has 'box office disaster' written all over it." Though he had yet to see it, I respectfully mulled over my sage-like mentor's explanation. "It's a $40 million dollar western starring Kris Kristofferson," he dryly observed.

Fair enough. I still pretty much ignored the occasional media reports of cost-overruns and wild tales of Cimino's bloated ego during the making of the film. Besides, all this stuff suggested - at least to me - that a great filmmaker was going whole hog to deliver another terrific picture and a bunch of persnickety pencil pushers, crew-monkeys and loser journalists had bees up their assholes.

Sadly, Heaven's Gate did not open in my hometown of Winnipeg. After a few days of limited release in two North American cities, reviews and audience response was so disastrous that United Artists pulled the 219-minute cut and many months later released a 149-minute cut for wider release.

I saw the latter version. In this form, the movie made no sense whatsoever and I staggered out of the cinema with a handful of similarly befuddled viewers. And the result was a picture that grossed $3 million dollars. United Artists, the studio that backed it, was completely decimated, powers shifted right across the board to a more aesthetically conservative approach. And again, this led to the most mind-numbingly awful decade in American cinema. Lots of hits, but very little that makes any aesthetic difference to the medium (in positive ways).

The survivor, the victor, if you will, is Heaven's Gate (and by extension, Cimino himself). In its pure glory, the film proves its worth well beyond the highly-sought-after ephemeral qualities the industry placed on cinema. (Thank Christ for Tarantino in the 90s - his work somehow put a bit of life back into the art and business of cinema. Sadly, one can only imagine what Cimino might have accomplished if not relegated to pariah status.)

As I look over the myriad of criticisms of this film, I'm reminded how so many people had their heads up their assholes on this one.

The big complaint was the sound mix. Many whined that the tracks were so layered and busy that one could barely hear dialogue. Yes, true, but ONLY when warranted - amidst the bustle of train stations, general town life, revelry and war. (Occasionally and brilliantly, dialogue is hard to make out when we get an audio POV in the same room. It kind of forces us into characters' aural shoes, as it were.)

Frankly, this issue of dialogue was never once a problem for me. Try watching the film with the subtitles, you'll see most of the dialogue is NOT subtitled, and when it is, it's perfunctory dialogue of the "if you hear it, fine, if you don't, no matter" variety. It's all part of the natural cacophony of, uh, life - but heightened to epic proportions of said life. (Another criticism was a cacophony of chatter in various Eastern European languages, often WITHOUT subtitles. Granted, when I could make out the words, I pretty much understood what everyone was saying without subtitles, but even if I didn't have a smattering of understanding of Slavic languages, I doubt it would have been a problem. Most of the chattering is of the aforementioned "if you hear it, fine, if you don't, no matter" variety. And WHEN it matters, there ARE subtitles.)

In many of these sequences, Cimino is telling his story VISUALLY and the soundscape is its own entity at play in this landscape. In fact, when I first watched this astounding Criterion presentation, I didn't even THINK about the dialogue during these scenes - I was too busy WATCHING the movie, thank you very much. I didn't miss a thing. I had no problem following the action, the characters and most of all, I was completely head over heels in love with the film's deeply immersive qualities - part of which is the GREAT sound design and mix and the other part being the expressive visuals.

Another head-up-the-ass complaint from "critics" was in the area of acting. Yes, Kristofferson's Jim Averill is withdrawn and often taciturn. Has anyone ever watched a western before? Most heroes (or anti-heroes) have this quality. Yes, Isabelle Huppert seems out of place as a madame in the wild west. So too did most immigrants. I can only imagine my own forefathers from Ukraine stumbling into turn-of-the-century White-bread, old-monied Winnipeg. Christ, they were out of place in any age, but especially so back then. Duh!, Grab a fucking brain, people! This is not a valid criticism. Besides, Huppert is a total fucking babe and we get to see her naked. A lot! I have no problem with this.

Another complaint from the army of knot-heads was how so many great actors were "wasted" in small roles. Cimino presents a dreamscape, a tapestry of a bygone era, one that finally exists as an entity unto the silver screen itself. There's not a single performance in the film that's bad and I personally applaud actors of this calibre agreeing to be part of a tapestry and giving their all.

Yet another utterly idiotic charge against the film is how Cimino plays fast and loose with the historical facts. More bullshit! He does what every great artist does - he doesn't let the truth get in the way of a good story. Almost all the characters in the film were real people. Cimino, if anything, does his job as an American myth maker and renders the likes of Jim Averill, Ella Watson, Nate Champion, etc. into bigger-than-life entities. It's the American way, but it's also what makes great movies. For example, the fact of the matter is that in real-life, James Averill was was hung by the cattle barons. Here, Cimino has him living a life of sad memories - a living death, if you will. It's fucking romantic. All the knobs who had a problem with this, are more than welcome to do me a favour and bugger off. Besides, I'm sure none of the real-life personages would have had any problems at all with their depictions.

I could continue mentioning all sorts of thing people crapped on for all the wrong reasons, but the bottom line is this - Heaven's Gate would probably never have been a hit at the time, but the cowardly studio heads were the ones who fucked up. They should have stuck to their guns, or at least, had Cimino's back on this one. I suspect the outcome might have been preferable to what transpired. Besides, the cowardice of the bozos at United Artists killed their studio, almost killed a great director (and severely hamstrung him for much of his career) and worst of all, changed the way movies were made and marketed. The film deserved, at the time, to be regarded as a noble financial failure at worst.

Besides, distributors (especially at the studio level) deep down know the catalogue value of most films and that eventually, almost all pictures pay for themselves and then some. (God knows I've been responsible for a few with that potential.) Time is on the side of studios/distributors. Besides, studios with in-house sales/distribution arms almost ALWAYS make money because they're generally crooks and find ways to ascribe in-house costs as production costs and they ALWAYS take their fees first (including guarantees).

When shit goes wrong, they never blame themselves. They look for handy scapegoats. In the case of Heaven's Gate, it was Cimino.

The whole debacle reminds me of the scene in Roman Polanski's The Tenant (put Cimino in Trelkovsky's shoes here) when the shuffling harridan landlady, played by a gloriously sour ball Shelley Winters answers Trelkovsky's pleas for help after being besieged by an inordinate number of affronts in his new home and says to him dryly, "You only have yourself to blame."

People who fucked Cimino over have made a very nice living since that time by blaming him. Blaming Cimino became a cottage industry. I hope this new lease on his picture's life will give him the last laugh. Frankly, Heaven's Gate completely knocked me on my ass in this Criterion Collection Director's Cut. Cimino reminded me throughout this great film why I have lived and continue to live my WHOLE fucking life for the movies. Using the medium to its utmost power, Cimino did his job - to draw me into HIS dreams - dreams fit for a King, a King so benevolent he allows us, the mere peons, to share them.

Thank you, Michael. You rock.

So does your $40-million-dollar Kris Kristofferson western.
Heaven's Gate is available on a truly amazing Criterion Collection Blu-Ray. The film itself is gorgeously remastered for HD and appears alone on Disc 1, while a solid clutch of supplements can be found on Disc 2.
This scene should speak for itself why anyone who loves movies needs to own this great film:


I wanted another number and sequence like that and would have been happy to watch it. When you see the film, you'll see a heart-achingly romantic sequence that follows-up on the roller skating sequence in a similar fashion. Visual storytelling at its best!

Take a look at this opening waltz from the film and then try telling me this is bad filmmaking:



And so you don't think the whole movie is all fun and games, try this scene on for size:



Now, for any Ukrainian-o-philes out there, here's a gorgeous a capella rendering of the great Ukrainian folk song "Oy Chorna Ya Sy Chorna" that David Mansfield adapted for his Heaven's Gate score:



And here's a version by the brilliant Veryovka Ensemble of Ukraine under the artistic direction of Anatoly Avdievsky. My late Uncle Walter Klymkiw was one of the world's leading authorities on Ukrainian folk music and spent much of his life devoted to studying, archiving, arranging and cataloguing this wealth of music. He was a great friend and colleague of Mr. Avdievsky and the only non-citizen of Ukraine to win its highest artistic honour, the Schevchenko Medal (Kind of like a Pulitzer in the USA or a Governor-General Prize in Canada) for his work in bringing the ancient music of Ukraine to life after much of the culture was wiped out by Joseph Satlin during the Holodymor and purges. Uncle Walter and Avdievsky collaborated closely to bringing this music to the world. David Mansfield can thank both of them. Enjoy:



AND NOW, BUY THE FUCKING MOVIE AND SOUNDTRACK