Little Shop Is an AIDS Play

Little Shop of Horrors is a weird fuckin' movie. In the first place, I really object to the fake flowers and the fake-looking plant and the fake sunsets. I just don't know why you wouldn't try to make things look more realistic. This film also involves an ending that totally differs from the stage show. I don't think I mind that quite as much. 

But... the important insight I had while watching this film is that I think Little Shop is an AIDS play. And if it isn't, this is certainly an AIDS movie. It's so weirdly about trying to process the violence of the medical profession, which in this play is represented by this strange dentist who is a drug addict and also a sexual sadist. The Bill Murray–Steve Martin sequence really seals that deal for me. Murray plays a kind of masochistic pervert, and he plays the character as a gay man. And then there is, of course, the blood. The plant takes over the whole world by feeding on Seymour's blood, and then it causes Seymour to hurt others, and it threatens and devours the heterosexual relationship at the play's center. 

(For the record I don't think AIDS causes anyone to hurt anyone, and I don't think it's devouring heterosexual relationships – or gay ones for that matter – I'm just saying that's how Little Shop is processing AIDS.)

This is a musical by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised about this, but I certainly had never thought of it before. 

Oh also Ellen Greene. Her performance is honestly incredible. Totally original and weird and genius. We are lucky to have her performance on film.

Navajo (1952)

I don't know what this ridiculous tagline on the poster for Navajo is supposed to be about with this boy and his eyes on my heart, but this is a really lovely movie. It begins a little dry and boring, but by the end of the film (which is no more than 70 minutes long), I was seriously worried about the characters, and the film took a dangerous, exciting turn. Even more notable is the absolutely gorgeous cinematography. 

Oh, I have read in several places that this is a documentary. It absolutely is not. It's not even  "documentary-style". This is a narrative feature about a young Navajo boy learning to deal with loss, learning to speak with his ancestors, and learning compassion.

I watched this movie via the Cave of Forgotten Films.

The Lavender Hill Mob (1951)

The Lavender Hill Mob is a funny crime caper farce that I enjoyed thoroughly, although it really is always such a disappointment when the criminals who pull off these excellent heists in the 1950s get caught. I never want them to. 

This film is very silly and very funny. But... nominating Alec Guinness for best actor for this is truly absurd. Why was he nominated? How is this possible? This was a delightful film, but it did not demand any great acting.

A Day at the Races (1937)

A Day at the Races had me laughing out loud, especially Groucho's level of insanity. But the whole crew is funny. Allan Jones has a lovely singing voice, and the musical numbers are... well they're very different from one another, but none of it matters. This is classic musical comedy. Hilarious nonsense and lots of musical numbers. I enjoyed this a lot. 

There is a totally unnecessary bit of blackface. 1937. I honestly can't believe this kind of thing still worked in the late 1930s, but this is also very much a legacy of musical theatre in the U.S. Minstrelsy always ends up rearing its head. There was also a totally unnecessary blackface joke in a Deanna Durbin movie I watched last week.

I watched A Day at the Races on the Criterion Channel.

Apples (2021)

Apples (Μήλα) is quirky and very funny – part of the New Weird Greek Wave – but then moves into beautifully moving territory. I really liked this.

The Queen

This is an extraordinary documentary of a rigged pageant in 1967 with some fabulous characters. Queens have been quoting this documentary for years. "Look at her makeup. It's terrible" and "I'll sue the fool" are amazingly quotable lines, and god bless Crystal LaBeija for saying them. 

I watched The Queen on the Criterion Channel. Happy Pride.

Chaos Walking

Chaos Walking was fun. The effects were cool. I like all the actors, and the worldbuilding was really, really interesting. I had a lot of fun. I'm not sure why everyone was so hard on this movie. I've been told there were a lot of plot-holes. I suppose that's true, but there was a lot of compelling running, and I had a good time.

I continue to love Tom Holland completely.

Moonrise (1948)

Moonrise is a pretty extraordinary film. We follow a young man whose father has been hanged for murder. He grows up really damaged and angry. Dane Clark is excellent, and Frank Borzage's direction is spot on. Even more importantly, John L. Russell's cinematography is astounding. It's amazing, wonderful work. I really, really liked this.

This movie was leaving the Criterion Channel this month, so I made a point to watch it and I'm so happy I did.

The Divine Sarah

A film about the great French actress Sarah Bernhardt starring the great British actress Glenda Jackson. This had the potential to be an easy biopic, but in Jackson's hands The Incredible Sarah is something else altogether. This is especially true in the extended sequences where Bernhardt–Jackson plays Phèdre and Joan of Arc. Jackson-as-Bernhardt is so good, even in these little sequences, that one began to understand how audiences really could be over the moon about an actress. The costumes in this film also are gorgeous and imaginative and really original. And there are two amazingly campy sequences in which Bernhardt destroys everything in the room, throwing mirrors to the floor and shattering vases and tearing curtains. It's a delight.

Irving Berlin's Blue Skies

I thought Blue Skies was a bit of a bust. It's a juke with a bunch of Irving Berlin songs. Fine. And some of the numbers are good. I really liked "Heat Wave", for example, and how can you not be in love with Astaire dancing "Puttin' on the Ritz"? But the plot is such a downer.  A love triangle where Bing can't settle down and Astaire is not interesting but Joan Caulfield can't settle for boring and stable and only loves the restless one. The Berlin numbers are shoehorned into this dumb plot in ways that don't seem very creative. I dunno. This whole thing just felt sorta phoned in.

Birth of the Blues. Is It, Though?

In Birth of the Blues, Bing Crosby, Brian Donlevy, and Mary Martin invent the blues. Well, slightly more accurately, they learn the blues from Black folks and then they teach white people to love Black music. (In other words, we don't get the birth of the blues in this film; we get its rise in popularity among white people.) 

There is only a mere wisp of a plot, and the movie itself is honestly not that interesting. How can it be when the stakes are will people understand that blues music is awesome or not? We know they're going to. In fact, the entire film is premised on the fact that we already know the blues are great. Much of the film's humor comes from white people being confused by the blues; the audience is supposed to feel superior to these fools.

Still, there are some solid numbers in Birth of the Blues, including a gorgeous rendition of "My Melancholy Baby" sung by Bing, and a breathtaking "St. Louis Blues" sung by Ruby Elzy in her final film performance.

Innerspace (1987)

Innerspace is pretty dumb, but it's funny enough. It's a kind of farcical crime-solving sci-fi romance thing, rather like Splash, if I'm honest, but better than Splash (not that that would be difficult). Martin Short's physical humor is good, and Dennis Quaid is funny. It's a really dumb premise, though. 

Oh one more thing: Dennis Quaid's body is incredible. It was apparently on this film that Meg Ryan and Quaid began dating. Understandable. They're both beautiful here.

I watched Innerspace on HBOmax.

Bubble Bath (1980)

Habfürdő: Zenés Trükkfilm Szívdobbanásra (Bubble Bath: a Musical to a Heartbeat) was one of the weirdest things I've seen. The animation is so cool and surreal. The plot... is not interesting, but the animation makes this a must-see, honestly.

The Mambo Kings (1992)

Based on Oscar Hijuelos' Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love, this movie feels a little shallow. It's a fine enough showcase for some great music, but it descends into slow-motion melodramatics by act two and never recovers. Also, Armand Assante feels miscast. And not just because he clearly can't speak Spanish but because he just doesn't seem to get the over-the-top sexy character he's playing. 

I read a bit of trivia about The Mambo Kings. Apparently, Antonio Banderas didn't speak any English when he made this movie and learned all of his lines phonetically. Apparently, also, Armand Assante didn't speak any Spanish when he made this movie and learned many of his lines phonetically, as well. This is a fine factoid and all, but, like, why not cast actual Cuban American actors? It was great to see Celia Cruz, obviously, and in such a large part, but this boasts a lot of missed opportunities.

Arabian Nights (Il Fiore delle Mille e Una Notte)

I loved Pasolini's Decameron, and I loved this adaptation of the Thousand and One Nights. I know that Arabian Nights and The Decameron are allegedly both supposed to part of some "trilogy of life". I put no stock in that at all, but this film is very similar in form to The Decameron, and I loved it for that. This is a sexy, romantic, delightful romp. With its scenes of homosexuality, explicit heterosexual sex, and erect penises, Arabian Nights was, unsurprisingly, not released in the United States until much later. 

It's quite clear, though, that Pasolini – with this film and with the Decameron – is interested in sex as something unsullied and pure, something that cultures try to disrupt and destroy. For him, these films that adapt stories from the medieval period are really showing us this purity.

Il Fiore delle Mille e Una Notte is also notable for the way it treats Ninetto Davoli, Pasolini's longtime lover. This was their final film together, and Davoli left Pasolini to go marry a woman. In the Mille e Una Notte, Davoli's character is violently punished for his faithlessness and callousness.