"Accomplishments"
In theaters: Based on a Spanish film based on a play, The Invite sees Olivia Wilde returning to form after that Darling misstep, apparently allowing a lot of contributions - improvised and not - from her co-stars. She and Seth Rogen are an anxious and continually fighting couple who have their sexy neighbors (Penélope Cruz and Edward Norton) over for a dinner party, though the latter hope to introduce them to the joys of swinging. The comic potential is obvious and well realized - all four actors frequently draw laughs from the audience, but every comic moment and funny line is leading us closer to the film's dramatic heart, and it might well move you as well. Obviously, Rogen is an old hand at this kind of material - it's almost like an adult version of the Neighbors films, in a way - but Norton, not known for comedy, is effortlessly amusing as well, as is everyone. And while Wilde's manic energy (represented by the loud strings that dominate the score in the opening scenes) is central to creating the necessary awkwardness, the real force of nature in the room is Cruz, absolutely magnetic as the psycho-therapist/sexologist who's about to rock their world. Well-judged pacing make the tensions (sexual and otherwise) ebb and flow most satisfyingly. I'll accept that invite every single time.
At home: So given that this week's theatrical was a movie about sex, and that there's a lot of sexual content in the "One Film for Every Year" section as well, I decided to revisit a bunch of erotic films I saw on Bleu Nuit when I was in my, let's call them "formative" years. Bleu Nuit was a weekly late night movie slot on Quebec's TQS station, and you'd sneak back to the living room when the whole family was in bed to secretly watch it, for me back in the late 80s. I can't remember every title, though there were more Emmanuelles than I'm prepared to rewatch (I'm sticking to films starring the original), but I remember the European content was much better than the dubbed, direct-to-video, American softcore that eventually made me lose interest. But anyway, welcome to Geekery After Dark and may the gods have mercy on my soul.
The ultimate Bleu Nuit film is Emmanuelle. The character would go on to be played by others - indeed, by anyone, since she eventually inhabits the bodies of all women who seek to explore eroticism - but Sylvia Kristel will always be MY Emmanuelle, and only Emmanuelle Arsan's heroine from the novel (fictional, but she has a lot in common with her French-Thai author) has a better claim. The book also gives the technically-flawed film some credibility most entries in the franchise don't, especially the non-Kristel ones. Kristel is very cute in this first film, a pure soul who is pushed into exploring her sexuality by a lot of rather creepy hedonists - her husband whose open mariage seemed more stable when he was the only one sleeping around, the female friends in Bangkok (if it weren't a real place, you'd think it was a sex pun) who are also attracted to her, and the dirty old man/sex guru who opens her mind to... well, something or other. Revisiting it now, the X-rated sensation of 1974 seems a little quaint, but it refreshed certain core memories, especially of the music. The pretty Emmanuelle theme song, of course, but also the vertiginous recurring motif that serves as an erotic parallel to slasher themes like those of Halloween or Friday the 13th. When you hear it, you know someone's about to go down. Director Just Jaeckin (just jackin'? is that REAL?!) never really manages to justify the characters motivations or reactions - eroticism is explored for its own sake, even if it means co-signing non-consensual sex (a problem in several of the films, i seem to remember), and the movie has editing and sound problems besides. But Kristel still carries the film and it, at least, has something to say about sexuality, it's not just gratuitous smut.
Emmanuelle 2 (AKA L'antivierge - the anti-virgin - which is the title of the second book, AKA The Joys of a Woman) was, I now recall, the first of the series I ever saw, at the tender age of whatever age I was, but it's more than nostalgia that makes me say it's the best of them. When compared to the original, the direction is stronger and often clever, the musical themes are more romantic, the relationship with the recast husband more pleasant, the decisions better justified, and the eroticism more positive and joyful. Gone are the creeps of the first film, and with Emmanuelle now no longer an innocent, but rather a woman who more aggressively chooses what she wants and refuses what she doesn't, so are the non-consensual situations. It's a little more explicit, but also focuses more strongly on the female gaze. Taking Emmanuelle's role, as it were, are the couple's house guests who are rather shocked at their open relationship and quest for sensuality. One will succumb to its allure, the other will not. Trading Thailand for Hong Kong provides our heroine with new pleasures and us with new sights and sounds as well. If you dare see only one, probably make it this one.
The third Emmanuelle film, Goodbye Emmanuelle, was sort of an awakening for me. Not a sexual one, by any means, however. No, rather, it's the film that made me realize that pan and scan was a thing... because the print they should on TV didn't use it! I remember being frustrated that conversations were held where you could only see dead space and the tips of people's noses. I would only later figure it out, but for the longest time, I had this bizarre complaint about the film. Mind you, even looking at a crisp, widescreen print, I still think it's pretty boring. As the title promises, this is Sylvia Kristel's last full feature in the role and it's a proper end to the trilogy, with her open marriage in trouble (oh, she can do anything she likes, as long as it's part of your lifestyle, is it Jean?) and a melancholy feeling spelling what feels like the end of her unbridled quest for eroticism. Polyamory is under attack by a new romantic partner who judges Emmanuelle harshly, and several examples of its failure in couples around the Seychelles. Unfortunately, the new guy is rather unlikable. It doesn't help that the sexual content lacks any kind of originality. And while I can appreciate the character realistically getting to this point, it's a bit like a horror movie where the slasher decides he's rather bored with killing. And interesting idea, but not what the franchise was built for. On a musical note, each movie to date has had its own theme song, and I burst out laughing when I was reminded of this one. Despite French icon Serge Gainsbourg's participation, it's absolutely terrible. Goodbye indeed.
With Emmanuelle 4, things get bonkers, and I credit it with the various weird permutations Emmanuelle films will adopt (in space, quantum leap, etc.). In this one, Sylvia Kristel plays herself, although she apparently never played Emmanuelle because no one makes the connection when she takes that name after full body plastic surgery turns her into a new woman (Mia Nygren). Kristel sticks around as interior monologue and as part of some early fantasy sequences (these dissipate as she gets better integrated into her new self). She's apparently fleeing too intense a relationship (with Patrick Bauchau, the only proper actor I've ever recognized from these), but in light of the ending, it's a massive over-reaction meant to somehow recast the lead role. Not that Nygren will ever play Emmanuelle again, and that's for the good. The Swedish model isn't much of an actress, and though she vaguely looks like Kristel in some ways, she's pretty boring in the role. The film's fragmented story doesn't do her any favors either. She's more often watching people we don't know have sex than participating, and when she does, the film usually cuts away too quickly. Based on one of short stories, it's a travelogue through Brazil that just jumps from incident to incident, and we're constantly meeting and abandoning new people and wondering what Emmanuelle needs to accomplish. Her therapist is in tow, providing perhaps the only erotic tension in the film, culminating in a scene where I was distracted by how much glitter the actresses no doubt spit out for days afterwards, but it's a real mess, and making it in English, for once, just means people are either ill at ease with their dialogue, or horrifically dubbed. Props for the artiness, but not TOO many props.
Tendres Cousines is admittedly a hard one to review. Set on the last summer being France goes to war with Germany in 1939, a stolen season in and around an aristocratic estate, shot in heavy soft focus, where a 14-year-old boy is in love with his 15-year-old cousin and... it's in the erotica category? I presume they are cousins in the literary sense - distant relations - as this is based on a book and therefore hides under the veneer of literary adaptation (but the prose is quite good, actually). What will be more shocking to some is that it contains many sequences teenagers in a nude embrace (though perhaps more shocking is that this was apparently a staple of American cable TV in the 80s). A film that could only be made in France and in a certain period, I guess it depends on your stance on nudity. The healthy adult take is that the eroticism isn't exciting, but naive, clumsy and, in a way, charming, and yet it's also a critique of how quickly masculine possessiveness takes hold, and commentary on a generation about to lose its innocence as the Nazis invade. By all accounts, the young actors were treated with care and didn't get the scandal it caused in some parts (if you can be nude on a beach, what's the big deal?), though we can, of course question the film making process. Certainly, the gross groomer in the film is a figure to be humuliated. Teenagers need their own erotica (it's more appropriate than watching people their parents' age do it on the internet), but it's certainly legitimate to wonder if films like these should be made at all.
Though there's no question 9½ Weeks made a star out of Kim Basinger, and gave us that much parodied bellybutton scene, the 50 Shades of its day is... a little gross, actually. I don't just mean it's food waste kink, either, but Mickey Rourke's character in this basically gets the girl through applied negging and ghostlighting, constantly asking her take part in his ideas of kink, well beyond her own stated limits. And because he insists on playing the mysterioso as part of his "Playbook", we're like Basinger at the end, unable to give an eff when he suddenly panics and tries to open up. He was a domineering creep from the beginning. UNLIKE Basinger, I dare say we would have dropped out of the relationship after that Ferris wheel stunt, which happens before they sleep together, so we can't blame the awesome sex for why she goes back to him, but she keeps doing so. No help from the art gallery subplot, which amounts to nothing. I will give the film credit for loving its female lead - Basinger is the sexiest woman alive in this - and New York looks great, too. You can tell it was made by the director of Flashdance. But as a story, pretty dull unless Rourke's very specific niche kinks excite you.
In Light Sleeper, Willem Dafoe is an insomniac drug dealer and recovering addict doing his rounds in a procedural kind of way until he crosses paths with his ex, also a former addict, played by Dana Delany who, unfortunately, isn't in the film quite as much as I remembered. Indeed, I was much more intrigued by Dafoe's professional and personal relationship with his boss, a hard-as-nails distributor played by Susan Sarandon. She's particularly great in this, and though I'm not a Paul Schrader fan - quite the opposite, actually - I do like the film's atmosphere quite a lot. Rain-drenched New York nights covered by a very cool soundtrack filled with moody tracks and no obvious choices. It's a strong character study of a man at a turning point in his life, but no signage to point him in a particular direction. The weakest part is the underlying crime mystery that is, quite honestly, very easy to solve, not that it's anything other than background noise until it's needed to resolve the plot.
Lisa Cholodenko's High Art stars the underrated Radha Mitchell as an art magazine editor who discovers she's living in the apartment under a fine arts photographer (Ally Sheedy) who had disappeared under a cloud some years before. It's her ticket to a promotion, but that's only ever ambiguously a motivation. Especially once Sheedy takes her as a lover while Mitchell's boyfriend stews in his own jealousy (there's an unspoken past there, for sure). And if the editor becomes the photographer's subject, does the "using" then go both ways, and must either woman's ambition necessarily be selfish or sinister? Things are further complicated by Sheedy's life-in lover, an addict played by Patricia Clarkson (the female cast is incredible, let's throw in Sarita Choudhury in a minor role, yes please). The New York art world is there to be satirized (I'm always intrigued since I worked in a contemporary art gallery for many years, and in this case, everyone but the artist herself are absurdly pretentious), but the main focus is relationships. Queer relationships, yes, but I think the issues are universal - when we wrap ourselves into another's life, there's always the potential for "usage", such is the nature of symbiosis. And what resentments can that bring (because human beings can't simply BE). Hated the abrupt ending, but your mileage will vary.
I can't say I'm up on any country's stand-up scene, so I was surprised to recognize more than half the participants in Last One Laughing Canada, but that's because of the 10 comedians trapped in a room together trying not to let the others make them laugh, there are some luminaries from across the comedy spectrum. So I don't know the stand-ups, but sketch comedy is represented by Dave Foley, sitcoms by Caroline Rhea and Andrew Phung, music by Jon Lajoie, improv by Colin Mochrie, and abject weirdness by Tom Green. And Mae Martin from Taskmaster gives us a UK connection. With Jay Baruchel hosting, there's more foul language than the UK version, certainly, but the show finds other ways to distinguish itself. Most notably, there are no imposed "Jokers" - or if there are, they're not ordered by the host on screen. Performers just jump on stage and weaponize a bit. This, and the "kill list" make the comedians seem much more aggressive than in the UK version, more actively trying to bump each other off. I like it. And while I wasn't sure about the live band element, it was well used, too.
[1980] Bad Timing: Art Garfunkel is perhaps an odd casting choice for an erotically-charged mystery, but he's meant to be a cold fish and a contrast to Theresa Russell's free-spirited woman who can't and won't be controlled, nor should she be. Though Garfunkel's Alex, a trained psychologist living in Vienna, is jealous and possessive, somewhat at odds with his intellectual facade, Russell's Milena really is true, even if her familiar manner with others sparks Alex's suspicions. If I were with Milena, I'd probably be wondering why she couldn't do any better, too, but it's better not to question certain things. At the top of the film, Milena has either overdosed or made an attempt on her life, and we discover the love story through their twinned, Proustian flashbacks, entirely achronological. Harvey Keitel is the cop who thinks the incident suspicious, but I don't think we realize this is a thriller until late. The title is entirely ironic, because only Nicolas Roeg's perfect timing here could make the intricate editing work. At first, I thought it was more successful as a formal experiment than a story, but the final reel put me in my place.
[1981] Porky's: All I knew about Porky's was that it was a Canadian film, an ancestor to such fare as American Pie and Superbad, and that it had a scene of high school boys peeking at girls showering. I did not realize it took place in 1950s Florida (actually Florida, I was wondering if it was some place outside Toronto, but no), really a part of the Boomer nostalgia of the era (Grease, Happy Days, etc.). I suppose the setting makes the racism, antisemitism, misogyny, and inappropriate sexual conduct less objectionable because they speak to an earlier time, and besides, (mostly) knows those things are bad. Director Bob Clark (Black Christmas) apparently based it on actual teenage shenanigans, either his own or friends', and it kind of shows, actually. The basic plot would have the basketball team try to get laid at the local disreputable strip club, but get bilked of their money and humiliated. Then, they get revenge. Except not right away. There's a whole middle section where subplots pay off - someone gets their comeuppance for the shower thing, a boy confronts his antisemitic bully (and the bully his own antisemitism), and we find out why Kim Cattrall's sexy nickname is Lassie - none of which has anything to do with that plot. Not really my kind of movie, but it still stands up better than I expected.
Books: I've read a lot of Star Trek comics in my time. Everything from the old Gold Keys to the Marvel, DC and Malibu runs, to IDW's many, many projects. Among the best, I felt, was the recent, intertwined Star Trek and Defiant comics, which created combo crews of our favorites and put them in the most epic storylines ever attempted. The Art of Star Trek & Defiant is a celebration of that just-concluded era, with character and ship designs, every cover (and in this day and age, there are always lots you never even saw on the stands), and interior art without text cluttering them up. There are some very cool illustrations in that - and generally, these series had some of the best likenesses in all Trek comics - and you can relive the stories through the art. I was never a big fan of the uniform and ship designs, to tell you the truth, but the book doesn't spend a lot of time on that aspect. In a way, I wish it did. The interviews with the creative teams are pretty cursory - just the same basic questions sent and answered by email, looks like - and ultimately speak more to the particulars' fandom, there is some information on their artistic process, which is really what I come to this type of book for. This one is more about looking at the pretty pictures, not that there's anything wrong with that.
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