Celebrating Val Lewton & Dario Argento

by Kimberly Lindbergs | January 14, 2008

Categories | News, Horror, Blogathons

Attention horror aficionados! At The Evening Class Michael Guillen has organized a Blogathon to celebrate the work of Val Lewton in conjunction with the new Val Lewton documentary produced by Martin Scorsese called The Man in the Shadows, which premieres on Turner Movie Classics (TCM) tonight. Lewton produced and wrote some of my favorite horror films from the ’40s, including his under-appreciated classic The Seventh Victim. The Seventh Victim was directed by the great Mark Robson, who made some terrific films for Lewton, but I think The Seventh Victim is their best joint effort. The movie even made my own list of 31 Films That Give Me the Willies, which I compiled for Halloween.

Over at Final Girl Stace Ponder is hosting her monthly film club, which takes a look a Dario Argento’s horrific masterpiece Suspiria. Her blog readers were asked to watch the film and participate in writing about the movie and there’s some nice observations being shared there.

I had planned in participating in both events by writing about the way Lewton’s The Seventh Victim influenced Dario Argento Suspiria and informed Italian horror cinema in general, but a head cold and pressing deadlines for other writing projects I’m currently working on sort of got in the way of my weekend plans, but don’t let my absence stop you from participating in these fun events! If you’re not up for writing about Val Lewton or Dario Argento’s Suspiria you can still participate by reading all the posts and offering up your own comments.

- The Evening Class Val Lewton Blogathon
- Final Girl Film Club on Suspiria

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A Double Dose of William Beaudine

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 24, 2007

Categories | Movie Reviews, Horror, Westerns, Blogathons

When I was a kid I often spent my weekends watching double features that played on television as part of the “Monster Matinee” and I thought I’d write about one I can vividly remember seeing for the Double Bill-a-thon currently running at Broken Projector.

I watched a lot of great double features on the Monster Matinee show during the late seventies and lots of forgettable movies as well. One double bill that really stands out in my memory was when William Beaudine’s Billy the Kid versus Dracula (1966) and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter (1966) were aired back-to-back. I had seen a brief commercial for the movies before they played and I was more than excited about seeing them together since they promised lots of “terror,” “thrills” and “action.” I had grown up loving westerns and horror movies, but until that point I had never seen any movie that combined cowboys with monsters. I just knew that Billy the Kid versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter had to be great. The mere idea of a horror/western film sent my 10 year-old mind reeling!

I invited some neighborhood kids over and asked my mom to make us some Jiffy Pop Popcorn and Tang to enjoy with the movies. We all gathered around the TV as the films began and anticipation was high, but nobody was looking forward to seeing these movies more than me. The first film shown was Billy the Kid versus Dracula, which starred the great John Carradine. I had previously seen John Carradine in the terrific 1945 film House of Dracula where he was very good. He scared me silly in that movie, so naturally I assumed he’s be great as Dracula again. Boy, was I wrong! As this incredibly dull film trotted along I immediately knew something wasn’t right. Billy the Kid versus Dracula totally lacked suspense and I couldn’t understand why. The other kids got restless and started playing board games. I ended up making excuses for the movie the entire time it was playing even though I found myself giggling at all the wrong moments. When Billy the Kid versus Dracula ended all the kids got up to leave, but I tried explaining to them that this was a ”double feature” and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter was on next. I was sure it would be better than the first movie we watched. The kids all ignored my desperate pleas and left. The popcorn and Tang were all gone so there really wasn’t any reason for them to stick around anymore.

I ended up watching the second half of this double feature all alone and that probably was for the best. Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter was actually a little better than Billy the Kid versus Dracula, but it was nowhere near as good as I had hoped it would be. I was totally dumbfounded by how bad the movies I had just seen were. My little brain was doing cartwheels trying to understand why the acting seemed so terrible and why the scripts made no sense. They were also shot so poorly that I could hardly make out was going on most of the time. I wondered out loud to myself how in the world anyone could make a boring movie with a fantastic title like Billy the Kid versus Dracula? I literally gave myself a headache trying to make sense of William Beaudine’s movies that afternoon.

My mom ended up asking me what I had thought of the films, but I was rather speechless. I explained to her that I didn’t understand them and I couldn’t figure out why they had been so bad. It was the first time in my life that I can remember being genuinely disappointed with a movie, so I told my mom I thought they were “real stinkers” and they were.

The director of these two stinkers was known as William “One Shot” Beaudine and he earned that nickname late in his career due to the fact that he would often shoot just one take, regardless of the problems that happened while he was shooting. It didn’t matter to Beaudine if actors forgot their lines or the special effects failed. He would go on filming and if any changes were made to the final product he churned out, they were done in the editing room. Before becoming a b-movie maker and working on popular television shows, Beaudine had been an assistant director to D.W. Griffith and even worked with him on films like The Birth of a Nation (1915). Beaudine also helped make Mary Pickford a star with movies like Little Annie Rooney (1925) and Sparrows (1926). Billy the Kid versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein Daughter were the 74 year old director’s last feature films after making over 350 movies, and they’re the work of a tired man just trying to make a buck who doesn’t seem to care what he’s shooting anymore. Both movies were often shown as a double feature at the drive-in during the sixties, so it’s not too surprising that the movies were also often shown together on television.

Beaudine’s Billy the Kid versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein Daughter are both currently available on DVD. If you’re curious to see one of Beaudine’s stinkers I recommend Jesse James Meets Frankenstein Daughter since it’s slightly better than Billy the Kid versus Dracula. The lovely Narda Onyx stars as Dr. Maria Frankenstein and she’s worth watching even if all the others actors involved with the film seem like their sedated and reading their lines off of cue cards.

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The Montgomery Clift Blog-a-thon

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 17, 2007

Categories | News, Actors, Blogathons

Above: Montgomery Clift

Today would have been Montgomery Clift’s 87th birthday and Film Experience is celebrating the event with a Montgomery Clift Blog-a-thon. I’m too busy writing about horror films at the moment to write anything substantial for the event, but please stop by the if charlie parker was a gunslinger blog to see all the Monty eye-candy I’ve posted there in honor of today.

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Making Movies with Kinji Fukasaku

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 12, 2007

Categories | Japanese Cinema, Crime, Blogathons

One of my favorite Japanese directors is the talented Kinji Fukasaku. When I read about the Close-Up Blog-a-thon being held by Matt Zoller Seitz at The House Next Door today, many scenes from his movies started rushing through my head. Kinji Fukasaku often used close-ups in his films to convey mood and action, so I thought I’d share a fascinating moment from Fukasaku’s terrific crime film Blackmail Is My Life (aka Kyokatsu Koso Waga Jinsei, 1968).

In the following moments represented by the still shots below, a young thug visits an unusual adult club with his lover and pretends to be someone he is not. He is fully aware that any actions he takes while he is at the club will be filmed by some criminals hiding behind a one-way mirror. The criminals think the man is unaware of their cameras and they plan to blackmail him with the film they’re shooting. At first the man is a bit nervous about having a camera film his every move, but he soon starts to enjoy the idea of being watched while it’s happening.

Fukasaku films the entire thing using close-ups that zoom in closer and closer as the scene unfolds, and it adds an uncomfortable intimacy to the action taking place on screen. These moments in the film manage to be erotic, sleazy and even a bit humorous all at once, while showing very little bare skin. It also leaves the audience in the somewhat uncomfortable position of being voyeurs who are unknowingly being observed.

Kinji Fukasaku was a brilliant director and Blackmail is My Life is the work of a man who was fully aware of the power of his camera. Many of his films are filled with creative uses of the “close-up” and this is just one interesting example.

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The Fine Art of Fashion: Yves Saint Laurent

by Kimberly Lindbergs | September 29, 2007

Categories | Blogathons, Costume Design, Luis Bunuel, Fashion & Film

Catherine Deneuve and Yves Saint Laurent, 1966

Since Flickhead’s Buñuel Blog-a-thon is sill going strong and I’ve clearly got Belle de Jour on my brain, I couldn’t resist sharing a few more brief thoughts about my favorite Louis Buñuel film.

One of the most memorable things about Buñuel’s Belle de Jour is the fabulous fashions designed by Yves Saint Laurent and worn by the lovely Catherine Deneuve. I’ve never been able to afford Yves Saint Laurent’s fashions myself and it’s doubtful that I’d look as good as Catherine Deneuve does in them even if I could, but I enjoy watching Belle de Jour just to gaze at Catherine Deneuve’s amazing wardrobe. In this regard, I suppose I have more in common with the low-class prostitutes in the film who seem totally enamored with Deneuve’s wardrobe as well. And who can blame us? Yves Saint Laurent was an incredible designer and his sixties-era fashions featured in Belle de Jour are absolutely stunning.

Catherine Deneuve modeling a Yves Saint Laurent design, 1966

Yves Saint-Laurent first started designing costumes for films when he was only 24 years old and working with Christian Dior at the House of Dior, but his real success as a costume designer came after he had started his own design house in Paris. In 1963 Yves Saint-Laurent was hired to create wardrobes for the beautiful Claudia Cardinale and Capucine in Blake Edwards’ The Pink Panther (1963) and his designs impressed critics and audiences. He would go on to design fabulous wardrobes for Leslie Caron in A Very Special Favor (1965) and Jean Seberg in Moment to Moment (1965). His amazing costume designs were also featured in Arabesque (1966) with Sophia Loren, although the credit tends to go to Christian Dior for that film and you can see some of Yves Saint-Laurent’s work in the entertaining fashion focused comedy A New Kind of Love (1963) with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, which ended up winning Edith Head an Oscar for Best Costume Design.

In 1966 the 29 year old Yves Saint-Laurent was hired to design the wardrobe for Catherine Deneuve in Buñuel’s Belle de Jour, and Deneuve and Yves Saint Laurent developed a lifelong friendship on the set of the film. The designer has called the lovely and talented Catherine Deneuve his “muse” and he has used her as a model many times since the two made Belle de Jour together. Catherine Deneuve has also insisted on wearing Yves Saint Laurent’s amazing costume designs in many of her films and besides an off screen friendship, the two developed a very close working relationship over the years on films such as La Chamade (1968), Mississippi Mermaid (1969), Liza (1972), Un flic (1972) and The Hunger (1983) which all feature fabulous Yves Saint-Laurent’s fashion designs worn by Deneuve.

Yves Saint Laurent is responsible for some of the greatest film fashions seen on screen during the sixties and seventies, and some of his finest work as a designer can be found in Buñuel’s brilliant Belle de Jour.

If you’d like to see more of Yves Saint Laurent’s wonderful sixties-era fashions please visit my vintage Yves Saint-Laurent Flickr Gallery as well as my Belle de Jour Flickr Gallery.

Recommended Links and References:
- Official Yves Saint-Laurent site
- Yves Saint-Laurent at Fashion Encyclopedia
- Yves Saint Laurent at IMDb
- Yves Saint-Laurent at Wikipedia

My Buñuel Blog-a-thon Contributions:
- What’s in the Box?
- Ode to Marcel
- The Fine Art of Fashion: Yves Saint-Laurent

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Ode to Marcel

by Kimberly Lindbergs | September 28, 2007

Categories | Actors, French Cinema, Blogathons, Spanish Cinema, Pierre Clementi, Luis Bunuel

Pierre Clementi in Belle de Jour (1967)

“He had a legend, the aura of genius, a friend to the mysterious and the strange. I arrived full of holy terror and mad hope all at the same time. I was struck immediately by one thing, only one: he’s a man of whom you only see the face. The fabulous mouth, worked by life, heavily wrinkled skin, the driven eyes, but in their black ring, a sparkling light. I was incapable of saying a word, I don’t even remember if it was a production office, an apartment, a hotel room. I looked at the deep earth of his face, the clear water of his regard. They told me ‘Speak loudly, we don’t know if he’s deaf or if he pretends to be . . .’ But how to speak? I repeated to myself ‘Come on. You have to speak.’ I thought that my silence and my insistence on staring would become intolerable. Someone else would surely have addressed me, would have started to speak, if only to reduce the tension a little. He was content to just look at me. Simply, directly, as if we had met there for a mutual exam and that words weren’t necessary. A guy walked in, perhaps an assistant, I can’t remember. Buñuel turned towards me. ‘This is Clémenti. Show him the script.’ If I understood properly, I had just been hired for Belle de Jour…With no other director did I have such a feeling of confidence.”
- Pierre Clémenti on Luis Buñuel and his role in Belle de Jour from his book Quelques Messages Personnels

My favorite character in Louis Buñuel’s Belle de Jour is Pierre Clémenti’s wonderful turn as the sexy thug Marcel. Pierre Clémenti was a beautiful and talented actor who appeared in many great films before his untimely death in 1999 including The Leopard (1963), Benjamin (1968), Les Idoles (1968), Partner (1968), The Conformist (1970), Sweet Movie (1974), La Cicatrice intérieure (1972) , Steppenwolf (1974), Quartet (1981) and Belle de Jour (1967).

I haven’t written anything substantial about Pierre Clémenti yet, so I thought I’d take the opportunity provided by Flickhead’s Buñuel Blog-a-thon to post a photographic tribute to Pierre Clémenti’s character Marcel in Belle de Jour, which was haphazardly put together from various screen shots I recently took from the film.

To view more screen shots from Luis Buñuel’s film please see my Flickr Belle De Jour Gallery.

Recommended Links and References:
- The Passion of Pierre Clémenti: European cinema’s christ-devil child
- Pierre Clémenti at Paris dans les années 70 (French language fan site)
- Pierre Clémenti - Acteur réalisateur (French language fan site)

My Buñuel Blog-a-thon Contributions:
- What’s in the Box?
- Ode to Marcel
- The Fine Art of Fashion: Yves Saint-Laurent

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What’s In the Box?

by Kimberly Lindbergs |

Categories | Books, Rants & Raves, French Cinema, Blogathons, Spanish Cinema, Luis Bunuel

Critics and film scholars have spent countless hours analyzing Luis Buñuel’s film Belle de Jour (1967) and the mysterious Asian box that appears in one of the movies most memorable and erotic scenes. As someone who has read a lot of Marquis de Sade’s work, I’ve personally never seen the box as being very mysterious or profound, so I thought I would share my own thoughts about the buzzing box for the Luis Buñuel Blog-a-thon currently being hosted by Flickhead.

Many reviews of Belle de Jour seem written by rather chaste critics who often insist on weighing Buñuel’s film down with its clear social implications and debatable morality, instead of fully embracing it for the erotic masterpiece that it is. Like most of the surrealists, Luis Buñuel was clearly inspired and fascinated with the work of authors like Marquis de Sade, Octave Mirbeau and Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and traces of Buñuel’s obsession with their work can be found throughout Belle de Jour. From its emotionally distant characters, to its masochistic ideas and brothel setting, the film could be read as a checklist of erotic themes found in early French literature.

When I saw Belle de Jour for the first time and watched the scene with the infamous buzzing box, I was immediately reminded of the sounds of insects and a brief passage in Marquis de Sade’s erotic classic Philosophy in the Boudoir, where he referenced a tale told by the 15th century Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci. This titillating tale involves native women in Florida who supposedly made their men place “small poisonous insects in their male members until they swelled up tremendously and caused an insatiable libido.” It also explains that these insects could cause a man “dreadful pain” and “ulcers, ” but the negative implications aren’t as interesting as the erotic ones. With this odd tale lingering somewhere in the back of my mind, my first assumption about the buzzing box was that it contained insects that the box’s owner planned to use on himself as a sort of aphrodisiac to pleasure Catherine Deneuve’s character Séverine with.

This somewhat unusual assumption on my part is also fueled by Luis Buñuel’s own personal fascination with insects which appeared in many of his films, but at first glance could seem notably absent from Belle de Jour. Buñuel’s fascination with insects was first shown in An Andalusian Dog (Un chien andalou, 1929), but you can also find insects in his other films such as the scorpions in The Golden Age (L’ Âge d’or, 1930) and the cockroaches in The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie, 1972). According to Buñuel scholar Julie Jones who also provides the commentary for the Belle de Jour DVD and seems to agree with me about the insect quality of the sounds emanating from the mysterious box, Luis Buñuel associated insects with “the life of the instincts” and even wanted to make a film about insects.

If my casual assumptions are true and Buñuel is referencing the Amerigo Vespucci/Marquis De Sade tale in Belle de Jour, it could also easily explain Séverine’s sudden joy in participating in a sexual act with that particular client at the brothel. Séverine is clearly a submissive woman who the Madame Anais has insisted needs a “strong hand.” Her desires seem unquenchable and a long session of intense lovemaking with a sort of “super man” would undoubtedly excite and please her. The untranslated conversation between Séverine and the man seems to indicate to me that he will be the one using whatever is in the box during their sexual encounter, which is why he clearly tells her “Don’t be afraid.” It’s also important to notice how the man guards the box and holds it closely to his body in the film. It’s his secret and his possession, which could indicate that whatever it contains directly affects him even more than those around him.

Buñuel never fully explained the contents of the box within the film himself and seemed to enjoy the confusion it caused among critics and audiences, but I think the influence of de Sade’s writing on Belle de Jour and Buñuel in general might betray him here. As I mentioned above, the work of Marquis de Sade greatly inspired the Surrealist movement and Belle de Jour is ripe with references to Marquis de Sade’s novels, including Philosophy in the Boudoir where the tale of strange insects and their effects on the male anatomy are alluded to. It is a book that Buñuel read and must have known well, and I’m sure his own personal interest in insects would have made the Amerigo Vespucci/Marquis de Sade tale incredibly fascinating and appealing to him. Especially because it so deeply and directly links insects to “the life of the instincts” which Buñuel clearly obsessed over.

Renowned Surrealist Margritte’s artistic interpretations
of Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy in the Boudoir

Since I’ve never read Joseph Kessel’s original novel Belle de Jour which Buñuel based his film on, I can’t elaborate on my assumptions as much as I would like to, but the inspirations for Kessel’s book seem very clear. It’s obvious that Kessel based his fictitious female character of Séverine on the male character of Severin found in Sacher-Masoch’s book Venus in Furs and he probably found inspiration in the erotic writings of Anais Nin, who I assume inspired the name of the brothel in Belle de Jour and its Madame. With all of these erotic literary references littered throughout Belle de Jour, I think it’s natural to assume that Buñuel’s mysterious buzzing box could possibly be linked to the insects briefly referenced in Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy of the Boudoir.

So the next time you find yourself wondering what’s in the box, I can only suggest considering insects and their erotic implications, as well as their symbolic importance in Buñuel’s own work.

Books Referenced and Recommended Reading:
- Philosophy in the Boudoir by Marquis de Sade
- Marquis De Sade: His Life And Works by Iwan Bloch
- Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
- The Diary of a Chambermaid by Octave Mirbeau
- Delta of Venus by Anais Nin
- Little Birds by Anais Nin
- The Autobiography Of A Flea by Anonymous

Films Referenced and Recommended Viewing:
- Belle de Jour (1967)
- Un Chien Andalou (1929)
- L’Age d’Or (1930)
- Diary of a Chambermaid (Le Journal d’une femme de chambre, 1964)
- The Discreet Charm Of The Bourgeoisie (Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie, 1972)

My Buñuel Blog-a-thon Contributions:
- What’s in the Box?
- Ode to Marcel
- The Fine Art of Fashion: Yves Saint-Laurent

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