Tag Archives: George Wolf

Fright Club

Fright Club: Best Horror Movies of 1974

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Chinatown, Young Frankenstein, The Godfather: Part 2, A Woman Under the Influence, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, The Conversation, Lenny—1974 was a hell of a year in movies! And horror was just as revolutionary.

We celebrate the 50th anniversary of those gems of 1974 with our pick of the five best. But we still love It’s Alive, Dark Star, Sugar Hill, Beyond the Door, Frightmare, CaptainKronos Vampire Hunter, and Abby. We just love these five more.

5. The Phantom of the Paradise

Brian De Palma’s first and only musical is a Phantom of the Opera/Faust/The Picture of Dorian Gray mash up (with some Frankenstein, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and more than a little Rocky Horror thrown in for good measure). That’s a heady mix.

A campy skewering of the soulless music industry, Phantom sees tiny Seventies staple Paul Williams as the Satan-esque Swan, a music executive with a contract for you to sign. Poor Winslow (William Finley) is just as wide-eyed about his music as all those would-be starlets are about their chances for fame and fortune in this evil world of pop super stardom.

Like many horror musicals, the film works best as a comedy, but Finley’s garish visage once he makes his transformation from idealistic musician to mutilated Phantom is pretty horrifically effective. The film as a whole is a hot Seventies mess, but that’s kind of the joy of it, really.

4. Blood for Dracula (Andy Warhol’s Dracula)

The film was also released as Andy Warhol’s Dracula, which is kind of rude since it was actually Paul Morrissey’s Dracula. The longtime Warhol collaborator had just made Flesh for Frankenstein with Udo Kier, Joe Dallesandro and Arno Jürging. (Both films were made available in 3D. If you are ever able to screen them theatrically in that format, you are compelled and required to do so!)

Set during a Socialist upswelling just before Fascism took hold in Italy, the film sees a weak and anemic Count reeling from the lack of virgins to eat. He travels with his manservant to the Italian villa of Il Marchese Di Fiore. But he did not take into account that Joe Dallesandro is the handyman there.

Lurid, hot and sloppy in that gloriously garish Morrissey tradition, it’s a trashy treasure.

3. Young Frankenstein

Will you look at this cast? Madeline Kahn and Cloris Leachman are untouchable comedy gods in this movie (per usual). Gene Wilder is the master of pretending to the a comedy’s straight man but employing every physical instinct for comedy. Peter Boyle, Teri Garr and Marty Feldman round out one of the most spot-on comedic ensembles ever assembled.

But Mel Brooks’s horror comedy is unlike many of his other comedies in that it honors and loves that thing it sends up. He used cinematic techniques popular in the 1930s, shot in black and white and even borrowed actual sets from James Whale’s original Frankenstein laboratory.

The result is a perfectly executed horror comedy.

2. Black Christmas

Director Bob Clark made two Christmas-themed films in his erratic career. His 1940s era A Christmas Story has become a holiday tradition for many families and most cable channels, but we celebrate a darker yule tide tale: Black Christmas.

Sure, it’s another case of mysterious phone calls leading to grisly murders; sure it’s another one-by-one pick off of sorority girls; sure, there’s a damaged child backstory; naturally John Saxon co-stars. Wait, what was different? Oh yeah, it did it first.

Released in 1974, the film predates most slashers by at least a half dozen years. It created the architecture. More importantly, the phone calls are actually quite unsettling and the end of the film is a powerful, memorable nightmare.

1. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

Tobe Hooper’s camera work, so home-movie like, worked with the “based on a true story” tag line like nothing before it, and the result seriously disturbed the folks of 1974.

Hooper sidestepped all the horror gimmicks audiences had grown accustomed to – a spooky score that let you know when to grow tense, shadowy interiors that predicted oncoming scares – and instead shot guerilla-style in broad daylight, outdoors, with no score at all. You just couldn’t predict what was coming.

He dashes your expectations, making you uncomfortable, as if you have no idea what you could be in for. As if, in watching this film, you yourself are in more danger than you’d predicted.

But not more danger than Franklin is in, because Franklin is not in for a good time.

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Mystery Tramp

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A Complete Unknown

by George Wolf

James Mangold’s Walk the Line wasn’t a bad movie. But that 2005 Johnny Cash biopic – along with Taylor Hackford’s Ray from one year earlier – relied so heavily on convention that Jake Kasdan’s 2007 comedy Walk Hard found easy marks for spoofing.

A Complete Unknown has Mangold’s biopic sights set on Bob Dylan, where a tighter historical focus helps him craft a more memorable film.

Instead of attempting a complete life arc, Mangold and co-writers Jay Cocks and Elijah Wald wisely choose a four-year whirlwind that changed the course of music and culture. Opening in 1961 as a 19-year-old Bob Dylan (Timothée Chalamet) travels from Minnesota to visit an ailing Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy) in a New York hospital, the film follows Dylan’s legendary rise to savior of the folk music scene, through his defiant choice to turn Judas and “go electric” at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival.

Dylan became a pop culture enigma long ago, fueled by his obvious delight in tall tales, an antagonistic stage presence and prickly interactions with the press. He’s cared little for letting us know him, leaving the more avant garde approaches to telling his story (especially Todd Haynes’s I’m Not There) as the most compelling.

It’s hard to imagine a mainstream treatment working better than this one. And it’s one propelled by an absolutely transformative performance from Chalamet. His success at emulating both Dylan’s voice and guitar style is beyond impressive, as is his ease at moving the iconic persona from an ambitious Greenwich Village newbie to the cynical voice of a generation feeling “pulverized by fame.”

And maybe most importantly, he crafts Dylan as a soul bursting with song ideas 24/7. This not only provides an important layer for his sometimes cold social behaviors, but it gives the birth of classic compositions a much more organic, believable feel than the revisionist pandering of biopic films looking to simply pad a soundtrack (cough, cough, Bohemian Rhapsody.)

The supporting ensemble provides terrific backup, especially Edward Norton’s turn as folk hero Pete Seeger. A committed pacifist, Seeger serves as gentle mentor to Dylan early on, then nervously tries to navigate the young man’s ascension once it’s clear that his talent is too great to contain.

That early take-and-give is a subtle step toward the intimate triangle that anchors the film: Dylan’s relationships with girlfriend Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning, perfectly supportive, naive and wounded) and singer/activist Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro, impressively handling her own assignment of embodying a legend). The film doesn’t shy away from the self-centered way Dylan hedged his bets at both women’s expense. And though it’s clear Dylan was following his artistic voice above all, you never get the sense he’s being entirely forgiven, either.

That’s refreshing, especially since Dylan himself was reportedly involved enough in production to provide some dialog and request the “Sylvia Russo” name change from the real-life Suze Rotolo. He also apparently gave his blessing to a major anachronism in the storyline that will seem egregious to longtime fans but ultimately adds dramatic weight to the final fiasco at Newport. (The ill-advised addition of Chalamet’s face into some real archival footage, though, is a curious misstep.)

For all its many strengths, maybe the most impressive aspect of the film is the way it uses that implied mystery of the title to its advantage. Eschewing the standard biography, this time Mangold paints us the time, the place, and a movement that’s content to tread water, then adds the mystery tramp seemingly sent from outer space as a necessary chaos agent.

As I write this review I’m listening to one of the 16 Dylan albums sitting in my playlist. Major fan here, and the closer I got to seeing this film, the more cautiously optimistic I felt. More than happy to report it exceeds expectations.

A Complete Unknown is an intoxicating, engrossing mix, and one of the best films of the year.

The Screening Room

Screening Room: Mufasa, Sonic 3, Nosferatu, A Complete Unknown, Babygirl & More

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Mufasa: The Lion King, Sonic the Hedgehog 3, The Six Triple Eight, Nosferatu, A Complete Unknown, Babygirl, The Fire Inside, Nocturnes

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Appointed Rounds

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The Six Triple Eight

by George Wolf

“Where there is no mail there is low morale.”

For a time during the height of WWII, there was no mail. Battalion 6888 – the only all-black outfit in the Women’s Army Corp to see overseas duty – was given six months to sort through a backlog of 17 million letters between soldiers and their loved ones back home.

If they succeeded, the women would restore hope to families and morale to the troops. If they didn’t, bigots throughout the military would use the failure as proof of inferiority.

Netflix’s The Six Triple Eight tells a lesser-known story of unsung heroes who deserve the acclaim, but the best intentions of writer/director Tyler Perry are often hamstrung by his broad brush and heavy-handed approach to telling it.

Our window into history is Lena Derriecott (Emily Obsidian of TV’s Sistas), who enlists after her high school love Abram (Gregg Sulkin) is shot down and killed in action. Captain (later Major) Charity Adams (Kerry Washington) whips Lena and the rest of the women into shape, and longs for marching orders that her superiors have no intention of providing.

But when President Roosevelt (Sam Waterston), First Lady Eleanor (Susan Sarandon) and National Council of Negro Women founder Mary McLeod Bethune (Oprah Winfrey) learn of the interruption of mail service, openly racist officers such as General Halt (Dean Norris) have to begrudgingly deploy the 6888th.

Perry adapts Kevin Hymel’s 2019 article “Fighting a Two-Front War” with a well-deserved respect for the mission, but a lack of depth that often reduces the timelines to little beyond sanitized set pieces and expositionary dialog. The ensemble consistently over-emotes, while even reliable talents such as Washington and Norris seem coached to push the dramatics and facial reactions.

The history lesson here – which includes the Army’s attempt to sabotage the 6888th – doesn’t need that hard sell. What these women accomplished was truly heroic, and Perry works best when he’s letting us in on the meticulous methods they found to connect the more hard-to-decipher addresses with their rightful owners.

Even the finale – when we get the expected (and welcome) archival footage featuring the real women involved – comes equipped with an extended retelling of the plot points we just watched unfold. From start to finish, The Six Triple Eight seems engineered for the distracted attentions of streaming audiences. So while the film’s limited theatrical run is appreciated, it also feels a bit outside the post code.

For Your Queue

Still Standing

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Elton John: Never Too Late

by George Wolf

It’s not easy to quickly sum up the legendary career of Elton John. He is the most successful solo artist in the history of the Billboard chart, he’s in the EGOT club, he’s raised millions for AIDS research, he’s been busy.

The Disney + doc Never Too Late follows Elton on his journey to be less busy, wrapping up a two-year farewell tour with a final North American show at Dodger Stadium in L.A. At age 77, he’s looking to be more available to husband David Furnish and their two young boys, and the film provides some sweet, fleeting glimpses into their home life.

But Furnish, who co-directs with R.J. Cutler, is mainly out to craft a historical bridge between Elton’s original Dodger stadium shows and his recent swan song. Those two sold out concerts in 1975 cemented Elton’s status as the biggest pop star in the world, and Never Too Late spends the bulk of its time reminding us how his career was first born, and then how it grew to those legendary heights in the 70s.

There is plenty of impressive archival footage (including a young Elton pulling out a page from some Bernie Taupin notebook lyrics and explaining how the words inspired his music to “Tiny Dancer”), and Elton’s description of his depression amid worldwide success is heartfelt, but too much of the film seems calculated.

While the excellent biopic Rocketman benefitted from its senses of unpredictability, self-aware honesty and zest, Never Too Late feels a bit controlled, as if Furnish was too close to its subject for a more well-rounded treatment. The worst years of Elton’s addiction and career are barely mentioned, moving the timeline quickly from 1975 straight to his sobriety in 1990, and then to preparations before the final L.A. farewell.

For Elton’s legions of fans (full disclosure: including me), Never Too Late will be a nostalgic and hit-filled salute. And if you don’t expect much more depth than a super-deluxe souvenir tour book, you’ll be plenty satisfied.

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The Hills Have Lies

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The Order

by George Wolf

Director Justin Kurzel announced his presence with authority in 2011 via The Snowtown Murders, a debut that showed the Aussie in full command of crafting a true crime story that pulsates with tension and simmering evil.

Kurzel’s setting is now the U.S., but he’s on familiar ground – and delivering similar results – with The Order, based on the violent domestic terror movement profiled in the 1990 book The Silent Brotherhood.

Jude Law is fantastic as Terry Husk, an FBI agent sent to Idaho to investigate a series of violent bank robberies across the Pacific Northwest. With some help from local lawman Jamie Bowen (Tye Sheridan), Husk becomes convinced that the heists are meant to bankroll the work of domestic terrorists planning to wage a race war and eventually overthrow the U.S. government.

He’s right, of course, and Marc Maron’s early appearance as talk radio host Alan Berg will help jog some memories. The crimes were the work of The Order, a white supremacist group led by Bob Mathews (Nicholas Hoult, who’s having a helluva year). Mathews broke away from Aryan Nation founder Richard Butler to pursue a more violent agenda, and connecting these two faces of the same evil is just one of the ways Kurzel keeps the history lesson gripping and vital.

“Just be patient,” Butler implores Mathews. “In ten years we’ll have members in Congress. That’s how you make change.”

You bet that line hangs pretty damn heavy in the air, but screenwriter Zach Baylin (King Richard, Creed III) never overplays his ominous hand. The relevance of this case hardly needs a neon sign to mark it, and Baylin and Kurzel favor a more nuanced reflection that can attack the present that much harder.

That’s not to say the film is not intense. Even if you could ignore all the true in these crimes, the procedural and manhunting layers of the story (especially once Jurnee Smollett arrives with FBI backup) make for a compelling thriller on their own. Kurzel engineers some crackling car chases and shootouts, while the entire ensemble – led by Law’s tortured outrage and Hoult’s sociopathic charm – boasts grit and authenticity.

In short, The Order is another example of Kurzel’s skill as a craftsman. He again re-imagines case history with the taut instincts of a narrative storyteller, leaving nothing but hard, compelling truths behind.

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Party Over Oops, Out of Time

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Y2K

by George Wolf

Who can forget those crazy few years when people like my Mom were buying books called “Time Bomb 2000,” and then it struck midnight on 12/31/99 and…nothing much happened.

With Y2K, director and co-writer Kyle Mooney reimagines that New Year’s Eve as a night when plenty happens. The double zero year wreaks technological havoc that’s even worse than the doomsayers warned, and a bunch of teenage New York partygoers have to fight for their lives while reminding us about everything 90s.

Eli (Jaeden Martell) and Danny (Julian Dennison) are lifelong BFFs (“the Sticky Boys!”) but pretty low on the high school status bar. Eli pines for the pop-u-lar Laura (Rachel Zegler), and figures the big NYE party that they’re not really invited to might be his best chance to steal a midnight smooch.

So the Sticky Boys crash. But what the F? The start of a new millenium instantly turns everyday tech into killing machines, and bodies start piling up with a succession of comical blood-splatter.

Mooney co-wrote the underrated Brigsby Bear in 2017, but Y2K marks his first directing effort. He also joins the cast as a relentlessly upbeat hippie stoner, adding to the film’s array of characters who are sufficiently amusing inside some usual high schooler stereotypes.

And as the kids head out across Brooklyn looking for a safe haven, Mooney plays with zombie outbreak tropes while Fred Durst has some fun sending up his own image. There are laughs to be had before things get overly silly, but Mooney finds his groove by serving up plenty of nostalgic callbacks that will hit 90s kids in the feels and give the older viewers some knowing smiles and head nods.

I mean, remember how long it used to take just to burn one freaking compact disc?

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Greek Tragedy

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Maria

by George Wolf and Hope Madden

After 2016’s Jackie and 2021’s Spencer, director Pablo Larraín wraps his Grand Dame trilogy by shining a slightly less engrossing spotlight on legendary opera diva Maria Callas.

Angelina Jolie is outstanding as the American-born Greek soprano “La Callas,” allowing Maria’s indulgence of her own iconic status to land as more realism than caricature. Jolie meets the demands of Larraín’s fondness for lip-synching close ups, and moves through the lushly detailed production design like a queen walking to her throne.

Cinematographer Edward Lachman, who earned one of his three Oscar nominations for last year’s Larraín collaboration, El Conde, elegantly captures the image of a solitary figure traveling an exquisite if lonesome city.

There is much to admire in the film, but this time screenwriter Steven Knight (who also penned Spencer) keeps the biography a bit too much at arm’s length. Anchoring the timeline in the last week of Callas’s life and then flashing back via Maria’s interview with a reporter (Kodi Smit-McPhee), Knight never lets us glimpse the full-of-life Maria that calls to us from archival footage over the closing credits.

Both Pierfrancesco Favino and Alba Rohrwacher bring needed warmth to their scenes as Callas’s devoted staff, but the balance of the film feels too tidy and glossy to be telling a life’s story.

As with both Jackie and Spencer, Larraín is able to illustrate the loneliness and isolation of an iconic woman. We see it again in Maria, we just don’t feel the tragic arc quite as deeply.

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We Loved Them Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

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Beatles ’64

by George Wolf

A Beatles documentary? Do we need another Beatles documentary?

I don’t know, do you really need more than one plate on Thanksgiving? I’d say Beatles ’64 is thrilling enough to be pretty damn necessary for anyone even remotely interested in the history of the Fab Four.

David Tedeshi – who served as Martin Scorsese’s editor on both Rolling Thunder Revue and George Harrison: Living in the Material World – takes the director’s chair this time, with Scorcese backing up as producer. Together they showcase incredible BTS footage originally shot by cinéma verité icons David and Albert Maysles. Though the Maysles brothers debuted much of what they shot in their own 1964 documentary “What’s Happening! The Beatles in the U.S.A,” this new Disney + feature includes nearly twenty minutes of never-before-seen clips. 

And yes, it is nostalgic gold. Here are John, Paul, George and Ringo, all fresh faced and bursting with humor, energy and naïveté. Caught in the middle of the absolute frenzy that surrounds their first trip to America, they display the boyish charm of enthusiastic tourists eager to experience this long-promised land that’s going wild for their every move.

Well, not everyone is screaming, crying and collecting every piece of Beatle merchandise available (get a load of the guy who still has some unopened Beatle talcum powder!). There are also a few stuffed shirts running kids out of hotel hallways and calling these young pop stars “sick.”

But as enthralling as all these historical snapshots can be, Beatles ’64 finds its own voice in the way it connects past to present with touching context.

“Culture?” We see a young Paul McCartney respond to a reporter. “It’s not culture, it’s a laugh.”

Looking back now six decades later, Sir Paul does acknowledge the cultural shifts that aligned with Beatlemania, not the least of which was a nation mourning JFK’s assassination and utterly desperate for some joy.

Along with the new interviews featuring Paul and Ringo, and some later-in-life comments from John and George, Tedeshi catches up with a few of the teenagers who were there on the front lines of fandom. From writer Jamie Bernstein’s (daughter of Leonard) devotion, to music producer Jack Douglas’s priceless story of his teenage trip to Liverpool, to senior citizens still tearing up about their first Beatles moment so long ago, Beatles ’64 weaves intimate moments from idols and fans alike into a warm and wonderful snapshot of wistful innocence.

The music’s pretty catchy, too.