Modern Mondays: Gus Van Sant’s “Death Trilogy” 2002-2005

by Kimberly Lindbergs | November 16, 2009

Categories | Movie Reviews, American Cinema, Modern Mondays, Gay Interest

“Ours is a culture notoriously uncomfortable with death. We’ve minimized and sterilized our rituals for processing it; we pack it away in Styrofoam and plastic wrap at the grocery store; we worship our children and pour our resources into the fantasy of postponing old age. Yet it courses into our collective consciousness with renewed insistence every day. Death in Iraq, death in New Orleans, death in Sudan, Afghanistan, Israel, Indonesia. Death on local streetcorners and in apartment buildings down the block. More death than it seems possible to comprehend.”
- Holly Myers

I’ve admired Gus Van Sant’s films since first seeing Drugstore Cowboy (1989) and My Own Private Idaho (1991) in the early ’90s but my relationship with the director’s work has occasionally been strained. I still don’t understand why Gus Van Sant thought remaking Hitchcock’s Psycho (1998) was a good idea and I’ve found some of his films such as Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (1993) unwatchable but I keep coming back to his work. Van Sant has been very active in the last 10 years and his films have received a lot of critical attention but I think his “Death Trilogy” which included the movies Gerry (2002), Elephant (2003) and Last Days (2005) are the director’s most interesting recent films. They’re good movies on their own but together they make up one of the most compelling cinematic experiences I’ve had in the last 10 years.

The three movies that form Van Sant’s “Death Trilogy” are not easy viewing and demand a lot from their audience. They also deserve more attention than I can give them at the moment so I thought I’d share some excerpts from one of my favorite pieces written about the films by the Los Angeles based critic Holly Myers for n+1. In Myers’ lengthy piece called Nothing Happens to No One: The Death Trilogy of Gus Van Sant she brilliantly explains exactly why I find the director’s “Death Trilogy” so intriguing. She also does a terrific job of pointing out the importance of these American films and why they’ve made such a lasting impression on me.

“Like the two subsequent films—Elephant (2003), based on the 1999 Columbine High School shootings, and Last Days (2005), a fictionalized account of the death of Kurt Cobain—Gerry cuts through the shock, the bafflement, the extravagant displays of empathy and moralistic hand-wringing that invariably characterizes Hollywood and the media’s treatment of death-stories by dispensing with the basic conventions of narrative and character. Van Sant does not sensationalize. Instead, in each film we see plot distilled to a single, profound arc: the slow, strange transition of a body from being alive to not being alive. Taking the silence, the mystery, the essential unknowability of death as a given, Van Sant makes no attempt to interrogate or explain. He simply enacts this transition and encourages his viewers to watch.

The result is closer to meditation than to storytelling, and the films are difficult in the way that meditation is difficult, which has made them—Gerry in particular—a hard sell.”

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Spend Your Day With Dirk Bogarde

by Kimberly Lindbergs | August 10, 2009

Categories | News, Actors, British Cinema, Dirk Bogarde, Gay Interest

All summer long Turner Classic Movies is celebrating various actors with their ongoing “Summer Under the Stars” series. But August 10th is truly something to celebrate. Today TCM will be running films that feature one of my all-time favorite actors, the extraordinarily talented and incredibly handsome Dirk Bogarde.

This would be worthy of mention no matter what films they were showing, but TCM has gone out of their way to showcase many of Dirk Bogarde’s best films from the ’50s and ’60s today that are rarely shown in the US and not available on DVD. Some highlights from today’s programing include The Spanish Gardner (Philip Leacock; 1956), Penny Princess (Val Guest; 1952), So Long at the Fair (Terence Fisher & Antony Darnborough; 1950), The Blue Lamp (Basil Dearden; 1950), The Servant (Joseph Losey; 1963), Our Mother’s House (Jack Clayton; 1967) and Darling (John Schlesinger; 1965). They’ll also be playing three films from the popular “Doctor series” (Doctor in the House; 1954, Doctor at Large; 1957, and Doctor in Distress; 1964). The Doctor films were huge hits in the UK and helped make Bogarde a world-renowned film star, but American audiences rarely have the opportunity to see them.

If you happen to be as obsessed with Dirk Bogarde as I am you’ll want to spend the entire day in front of your television. Of course that’s not always possible so consider recording some of these hard to see films for future viewing. Many of these films are not even available in the UK and they’re directed by British luminaries such as Val Guest, Basil Dearden, Jack Clayton and Terrence Fisher. This is truly a rare opportunity to see some great British movies and the event shouldn’t be missed by my fellow Dirk devotees.

Previously at Cinebeats: At Home with Dirk Bogarde.

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Modern Mondays: Love Songs (2007)

by Kimberly Lindbergs | June 22, 2009

Categories | Movie Reviews, French Cinema, Musicals, Romance, Modern Mondays, Gay Interest

When I first mentioned that I was going to start “Modern Mondays” at Cinebeats I briefly discussed how much I liked musicals so I thought I’d share a few thoughts about the best musical I’ve seen in recent years, Love Songs (aka Les chansons d’amour; 2007).

Love Songs was directed by the talented French filmmaker and writer Christophe Honore (Ma mère; 2004, Dan Paris; 2006) and features an original musical score by composer Alex Beaupain. It also stars one of my favorite working actors, the incredibly handsome and charismatic Louis Garrel (The Dreamers; 2003, Regular Lovers; 2005, Dans Paris; 2006). The film tells a rather simple and bittersweet story about three young lovers living in Paris who are torn apart physically and emotionally after one of them unexpectedly dies. Romantic films featuring bisexual threesomes instead of typical “boy meets girl” couples are rare enough, but I’m pretty sure that Love Songs is one of the first full-length musical involving a ménage à trois.

The film’s unconventional take on love and loss is refreshing and beautifully handled by director Christophe Honore. In many ways Love Songs is the director’s love letter to French cinema from the ’60s. Fans of classic French films such as Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964), Francois Truffaut’s Jules and Jim (1962) and Jean-Luc Godard’s A Woman Is a Woman (1961) will easily spot their influence on Honore’s film, but like the nouvelle vague artists that he celebrates here, director Christophe Honore is clearly interested in breaking new ground. He sidesteps much of the ambiguity that was often a trademark of ’60s French cinema to unabashedly deal in honest human anguish, passion and desire.

Love Songs is a sentimental film and I appreciated its sweetness and romanticism, but it’s also a thoughtful meditation on loss and the painful grieving process that occurs after we loose someone we deeply care about. There’s nothing more agonizing than the sudden and unexpected death of a loved one and I think Love Songs greatest achievement besides it’s wonderful score, smart script and beautiful cinematography is the way in which it expertly conveys that overwhelming sense of unexplainable sorrow that can become paralyzing after you suffer a great loss.

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10 Questions with Shane Briant

by Kimberly Lindbergs | May 4, 2009

Categories | Books, Actors, British Cinema, Hammer Horror, Interviews, Featured, Gay Interest

Shane Briant in Straight on Till Morning (1972)

The talented British’ born actor Shane Briant made his screen debut in the Hammer horror film Demons of the Mind. Since then he’s gone on to appear in over 60 films and television productions including Straight On Till Morning (1972), The Picture of Dorian Gray (1973), The Mackintosh Man (1973), Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974), Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974), The Naked Civil Servant (1975) and Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1981). Currently Briant is focusing his attention on writing and he has recently completed a psychological thriller called Worst Nightmares that will be released in the US on May 12th. I’ve admired his film work for many years so I was thrilled to get the opportunity to ask Shane Briant a few questions about his early movies and current writing projects. READ MORE

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David Bowie is The Image (1967)

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 27, 2008

Categories | Movie Reviews, Actors, Horror, British Cinema, Gay Interest

David Bowie in the ’60s

It’s impossible to put into words the impact that David Bowie’s music has had on me throughout the years, but there probably isn’t another living music artist who I admire more. I started listening to Bowie’s music when I was just 12 years old and one of my earliest concert memories is of seeing Bowie’s 1983 Serious Moonlight Tour at the Oakland Coliseum. Around the same time I also saw David Bowie star in Nicolas Roeg’s groundbreaking science fiction film The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) when it played on a double bill with Performance. Over the years my admiration for Bowie’s acting abilities as well as his recording career has only grown.

David Bowie’s first acting role was in an eerie and surrealistic silent horror short called The Image (1967) directed by British filmmaker and writer Michael Armstrong. Armstrong’s directing credits include the Tigon horror anthology The Haunted House of Horror (1969) as well as the effective and memorable Mark of the Devil (1970), which tells the story of two 17th century witch hunters (Udo Kier and Herbert Lom) and was obviously inspired by the 1968 Tigon film The Witchfinder General. Armstrong is also responsible for writing the script for Pete Walker’s horror comedy House Of The Long Shadows and co-writing Tobe Hooper’s Lifeforce with Dan O’Bannon. This list of Michael Armstrong’s credits may not seem all that impressive to your average film viewer, but it should spark the interest of some horror fans.

The Image was Michael Armstrong’s first film and along with David Bowie, it also stars the hard working actor Michael Byrne in one of his earliest roles. Byrne appeared in the excellent horror film Vampyres (1974) and had minor roles in many popular war based dramas and action films made during the seventies including Conduct Unbecoming (1975), The Eagle Has Landed (1976), A Bridge Too Far (1977) and Telefon (1977). Today he’s probably mostly known for his appearences in popular modern films such as Braveheart (1995), Gangs of New York (2002) and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989).

In The Image Michael Byrne plays a troubled artist haunted by a ghostly young man who appears to step right out of one of his paintings. David Bowie plays the mysterious apparition who is haunting the artist and his unusual good looks and other-worldly appearance are used to great effect here. Bowie was just 20-years-old when he made his acting debut, but he had studied with the avant-garde performance artist and actor Lindsay Kemp who included elements of Mime and Butoh into his teaching. Bowie obviously made use of the skills he developed studying under Kemp for his role in The Image and his wordless performance as an unrelenting spectre is undoubtedly the most memorable element of this short film. But The Image also contains an interesting minimalist soundtrack and some nice looking black and white photography from Ousama Rawi.

Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray probably influenced Michael Armstrong’s script and it’s possible that some might see a homoerotic undercurrent running through the film, which is interesting when you consider the rumors surrounding David Bowie ’s relationship with his openly gay acting teacher Lindsay Kemp. But director Michael Armstrong has only described The Image as “A study of the illusionary reality world within the schizophrenic mind of the artist at his point of creativity.”

The Image was shot in just three days and completed in 1967, but it didn’t have its official screen debut until 1969. Due to the violent content of the film it became one of the first shorts to receive an ‘X’ certificate from Britain’s notoriously restrictive film rating’s board. The Image seemed to disappear into obscurity after its limited release, but in recent years it has been rediscovered and restored. This brief 14 minute film is currently available on YouTube and makes for some great Halloween viewing.

If you’d like to learn more about the making of The Image I recommend visiting Michael Armstrong’s official website where you’ll find images from the film as well as the original script that you can download and read for free.

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The decadent world of the Black Lizard

by Kimberly Lindbergs | October 22, 2008

Categories | Movie Reviews, Japanese Cinema, Crime, 1968, Kinji Fukasaku, Gay Interest

Akihiro Miwa and Yukio Mishima on stage together in the ’60s

“Ever since I first met him here, I’ve dreamt about Akechi. A vain man who acts like a critic. When his face appears in my dreams it disturbs me. I’ve never before had such an experience. He looks as if he knew and understood everything. His eyes! His lips! He obstructs my dream. He pursues its form. He’ll eventually become the dream itself.”
- Black Lizard

Japanese director Kinji Fukasaku made two of my favorite films of 1968. Blackmail is My Life (aka Kyokatsu koso Waga Jinsei) and Black Lizard (aka Kurotokage). My deep affection for the Black Lizard was made public when it landed in my list of 25 Favorite Foreign Language Films that I compiled last year. At that time I mentioned that I wanted to write more about Fukasaku’s film and after watching it again recently I thought It was time to finally share some of my thoughts about this fascinating and extremely entertaining movie that always manages to find its way onto any list of “Favorite Films” that I compile.

Black Lizard opens with a detective named Akechi Kogoro (Isao Kimura) following his friend into a private night club hidden in a maze of Tokyo alleyways. As the two men silently descend into its depths the camera scans the club walls and occasionally focuses on large reproductions of Aubrey Beardsley’s art for Oscar Wilde’s Salome, which are lit by colorful florescent lights that seem to flicker and bounce across the screen. When the men finally reach the main entrance of the club, the doors burst wide open and they’re greeted by nude girls covered in body paint who dance wildly to the sound of psychedelic rock and carefree laughter. Numerous couples can also be seen throughout the club engaging in erotic play while consuming vast quantities of booze. Detective Akechi makes his way to the bar to order a drink and while it’s being poured he wonders aloud why he has followed his friend into this strange place. As he contemplates the evening and makes mental notes of future events that will soon consume him, the club suddenly goes dark and silent. Out of the shadows steps a beautiful woman (Akihiro Maruyama aka Akihiro Miwa) cradling a long cigarette holder in one hand while she surveys the room with her hungry eyes. When she finally slinks up to bar and strikes up a conversation with the befuddled detective, it’s clear that she is no ordinary woman and this is no ordinary nightclub. Detective Akechi has entered the decadent world of the Black Lizard where nothing is true and everything is permitted.

Kinji Fukasaku’s film follows the exploits of a criminal mastermind known as Mrs. Midorikaw aka “The Black Lizard” and her gang of outcasts that include a hunchbacked confidant, a dwarf and a murderous snake-eyed woman. The Black Lizard likes to collect beautiful jewels as well as beautiful people who she kills and then displays like dolls in her hidden island lair. The Black Lizard is obsessed with a priceless diamond known as the Star of Egypt and plans to steal it from a world-class jeweler as well as kidnap the jeweler’s beautiful young daughter so the girl can be turned into a lifeless “doll” for her trophy collection. Unfortunately a wrench is thrown into the Black Lizard’s plans when Detective Akechi arrives on the scene. Over the course of the film the beautiful criminal and brilliant detective play an erotically charged cat-and-mouse game that will leave one of them dead and the other heartbroken.

Black Lizard is based on a stage play written by the acclaimed and controversial Japanese author Yukio Mishima. Mishima adapted his play from an original story by the renowned mystery and horror author Edgowa Rampo that was first published in 1934. Many of Rampo’s original story elements and basic plot points can be found in the script for Black Lizard, but Mishima injected his adaptation with a romantic decadence and homoeroticism that was clearly his own creation. Yukio Mishima often found inspiration in the writing of British authors such as Oscar Wilde who was part of Britain’s Aesthetic Movement and many of the themes found in Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray reoccur in Mishima’s own work again and again. Mishima’s script for Black Lizard is really an extravagant showcase for many of his favorite themes including sadism, martyrdom, unrequited love and an obsession with beauty and death, which are also popular motifs found in the art and literature of the Aesthetic Movement.

During his lifetime Yukio Mishima wrote many highly acclaimed Kabuki plays and modern versions of classic Noh dramas. The structure, style, depth and melodramatic tone of traditional Japanese theater is also echoed in his script for Black Lizard. Characters often speak their dialogue with a poetic rhythm while using dramatic gestures to signify what they’re feeling. And the elaborate sets used in the film are staged and lit in a way that resembles modern theater with a distinctive pop art sensibility. It’s also important to note that Japanese Noh drama is performed entirely by men who wear masks to portray female characters and in Kubuki plays the female roles are frequently performed by male actors. Although Yukio Mishima’s stage adaptation of Black Lizard often starred female actresses, Mishima thought that the cross-dressing male actor Akihiro Miwa was the only performer who was able to fully inhabit the role of Mrs. Midorikaw / the Black Lizard.

Mishima’s play was undoubtedly also influenced by classic literature and poetry that emerged from the Shudō (homosexual) tradition among samurai warriors in medieval Japan who Mishima greatly admired. These tragic and melodramatic tales often focus on unrequited love, erotic obsessions and the romantic lives of the warrior class. Naturally these stories occasionally ended with the death of a samurai who takes his own life during a ritual suicide, which is referred to as “seppuku” within the bushido code.

Akihiro Miwa

Akihiro Miwa and Yukio Mishima first met in 1952 when Miwa was a young hostess working at a coffee bar in Tokyo where gay intellectuals and artists would often gather. The two became very close and while Mishima was gaining attention and recognition in Japan as one of the country’s greatest writers, Akihiro Miwa was making a name for himself as a popular cabaret singer and stage actor. Over the years Akihiro Miwa has made different claims about the seriousness and nature of his relationship with Yukio Mishima, which were probably influenced by his respect for Mishima’s family. The author’s family attempted to deny Yukio Mishima’s homosexuality after his death, but it now seems to be common knowledge that Akihiro Miwa and the legendary author were long-time lovers.

Film director Kinji Fukusuka was a fan of Yukio Mishima’s work and after seeing the play performed by Akihiro Miwa he asked Mishima and Miwa if they would be interested in collaborating on a film version of the play with him. Thankfully they agreed and the two apparently worked rather closely together with Kinji Fukasaku on the 1968 film adaptation of Black Lizard. Although background information about the film’s production is rather scarce, I suspect that Mishima must have had some influence over the film’s look and impressive set design. I also believe that Akihiro Miwa worked closely with the costume designer and celebrated manga artist Masako Watanabe to create his wardrobe for the film.

Yukio Mishima’s script for Black Lizard was first filmed as a musical in 1962 by director Umetsugu Inoue who’s probably most well-known for the colorful musicals he made with the Shaw Brothers (Hong Kong Nocturne, Hong Kong Rhapsody, etc.). I haven’t had the opportunity to see Umetsugu Inoue’s version of Black Lizard but I have seen clips and still shots from the production and by all indications, it looks like it’s an amazing movie. Information about Umetsugu Inoue’s film adaptation of Black Lizard is almost nonexistent but I suspect that Mishima generally preferred Kinji Fukasaku’s adaptation of the film since the writer was much more confident about his creative ideas and world view in 1968. Naturally that confidence transfers into his film collaboration with Fukasaku. This is reinforced by Mishima’s brief role in the 1968 film playing a violent man that the Black Lizard kills and turns into one of his favorite “dolls.” Yukio Mishima did not appear in the 1962 film version of Black Lizard and he seemed to distance himself from Umetsugu Inoue’s film adaptation of his play over time.

These days Kinji Fukasaku’s Black Lizard is often referred to as a “camp classic” by critics who don’t seem to fully grasp or appreciate Yukio Mishima’s creative aesthetic and intellectual influences, which are clearly evident in Fukasaku’s film. Black Lizard does contain occasional moments of black humor but there really isn’t anything overtly funny about the film and the humor comes from how individual viewers interpret it. The humorous aspects of Black Lizard are obviously exaggerated by modern audience’s propensity towards irony and by critics who find it impossible to take a male actor playing a female role seriously, even when that actor is someone as beautiful and talented as Akihiro Miwa. But the Black Lizard is actually played completely straightforward for dramatic effect. Besides the over-the-top action and suspense, the real focus of this entertaining film is the romantic tension between Detective Akechi and the Black Lizard, which is celebrated by Mishima’s flowery prose. No effort is made by the actors to acknowledge that Akihiro Miwa is male but there is a wonderful scene where the character changes into a man’s suit to escape detection. While Miwa is admiring his appearance in a mirror he smiles at himself and proclaims that he has “no true identity.” In turn the audience is forced to come to their own conclusions about the Black Lizard’s sexual identity, which remains fluid throughout the film.

The Black Lizard contains a lot of wonderful moments that are well worth highlighting. After the impressive club scene that opens the movie, Detective Akechi finds himself in a “medical college dissecting room” investigating the suicide of a troubled musician whose body as been stolen. The detective discovers a dead “black lizard” (the criminal’s calling card) next to a large tub filled with corpses that bob in and out of the dark water. The moment is both shocking and visually striking. In some ways it also foreshadows what the future holds for the detective as well as the Black Lizard. Another one of my favorite scenes involves a lengthy card game played between the Black Lizard and Detective Akechi. Director Kinji Fukasaku shot the scene from an upward angle through a glass table and the effect is impressive. The scene between the two actors is similar to a moment in Norman Jewison’s film The Thomas Crown Affair when Steve McQueen and Fay Dunaway engage in a game of chess that is filled with sexual tension. Black Lizard also features some great action sequences including a memorable car chase that is interrupted by a motorcycle gang who shoot colorful smoke from the back of their bikes to obstruct the view of the police behind them. Like many of the scenes in this captivating film, it has a surreal quality and seems as if it’s taken straight out of a Tokusatsu production or manga story.

Kinji Fukasaku’s film was a minor hit with Japanese audiences and critics when it debuted in 1968, but the movie didn’t find an international audience until its revival at Chicago’s Lesbian and Gay International Film Festival in 1985. The film began to gain a small but devoted cult following when it was released on video by Cinevista Inc. in 1992 and subsequently the film has been shown at various other venues across the country. Unfortunately Black Lizard has never been released on DVD and it is possible that Yukio Mishima’s family is partially responsible for the film’s limited distribution. I wrote a letter to Criterion about five years ago asking them if they would consider releasing the film on DVD but I never got a reply. With their recent DVD releases of Yukio Mishima’s Patriotism (1966) and Paul Scharder’s biographical film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985), I can only hope that Criterion will consider releasing Black Lizard in the near future and give this important and entertaining film the special attention it rightfully deserves.

A year after the release of Black Lizard Kinji Fukasaku followed up its success with an imaginative sequel called Black Rose Mansion (aka Kuro bara no yakata), which also featured a script by Yukio Mishima. Akihiro Miwa once again has the starring role in this production as a tragic figure named Ryuko. Many of the themes found in Black Lizard are carried over into the sequel, but Black Rose Mansion is a much more melancholy film with gothic overtones and very little action. It some ways it seems to reflect the sullen mood of Yukio Mishima at the time. Black Rose Mansion was the last film adaptation of Mishima’s work before his death. The following year the author would commit seppuku in a very public ritual suicide leaving his lover Akihiro Miwa to mourn his death alone.

If you’d like to see more images from the Black Lizard you can find them in my Black Lizard Flickr Gallery.

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Kerwin Mathews (1926-2007)

by Kimberly Lindbergs | July 8, 2007

Categories | News, Actors, Gay Interest

Today I read the sad news at Holger’s terrific Hammer and Beyond blog that the handsome and talented action star Kerwin Mathews has passed away at the age of 81. Mathews is best remembered for his roles in adventure and fantasy films like The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), Jack the Giant Killer (1962) and Battle Beneath the Earth (1967). Many of his movies were childhood favorites of mine.

It’s hard to imagine growing up without Kerwin Mathews. Whenever one of his movies appeared on television when I was a kid I would jump for joy. He had a great voice and he was a totally believable adventure hero with brains and a heart. Most people dismiss the acting in his films, but Mathews could make you believe he was fighting skeletons, battling a cyclops and shrinking to the size of a doll. How many actors can do that? There’s just no getting around the fact that the guy had talent. His ability to make his audiences believe in the unbelievable should be applauded.

Mathews appeared in some good and not so good thrillers as well before retiring from acting in the 1970s. According to the article below he moved to San Francisco with his longtime partner Tom Nicole, where he sold antiques for awhile. At a time when so many gay actors were forced to stay in the closet and unable to get work, Kerwin Mathews managed to become a popular action star who was loved by millions, while maintaining a relationship with his partner for an impressive 46 years. Mathews was a truly great American movie hero.

The San Francisco Chronicle has published a nice article about Kerwin Mathews’ life and death on their website: Kerwin Mathews — Movie Star

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