Like Anna Karina's Sweater

Birth of a Proto-Riot Grrrrl

Dateline 1980: punk rock is still thriving, but hardly the sensation it was three years prior — The Sex Pistols have split up, SST records is two years old, and Sid has already killed Nancy. New Wave is beginning to rear its head, and MTV is just around the corner. However, in those pre-Interweb days Hollywood was a bit slow in catching on to youth trends, so it's hardly surprising that Paramount Pictures' foray into punk cinema never even managed to find a theatrical release. Yet even without distribution, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains has managed to become a huge cult classic, with groups such as Hole and Bikini Kill citing it as a tremendous influence on the creation of their bands. A gritty drama about the rise and fall of an all-girl punk band, Ladies and Gentleman, The Fabulous Stains began with a screenplay by Oscar winner Nancy Dowd (Coming Home, Slap Shot) called All Washed Up. A cynical tale of the music industry and mainstream media with a decidedly feminist bent, Paramount offered the project to veteran rock producer Lou Adler (The Mamas and the Papas, Sam Cooke, etc.) who had to chose between this and Airplane! for his next feature. Not long after shooting began, Dowd stormed off the set after being groped by a camera operator (he twisted her breast as if focusing a lens) and had her name removed from the project. Though there's no question that her original screenplay was compromised, the finished product is still easily one of the best teen movies of the 80s, warts and all. Set in the bleak working class town of Charlestown, PA (Dowd used the same locale in Slap Shot), the film tells of Corinne "Third Degree" Burns (14 year-old Diane Lane), an angry, streetwise orphan who forms a band with her sister Tracy (Marin Kanter) and cousin Jennifer (Laura Dern) called, obviously, The Stains. Corinne dreams of escape, and it's no wonder — women in Charlestown marry early, have their kids by 20, and sit around all day doing shots of Jameson's while chain smoking and singing along to old Carole King songs on the radio (Christine Lahti, perfect as Dern's white trash mother). A nickel and dime traveling rock tour that stops in their town provides the girls with their lucky break. Having seen Corinne interviewed on television, the tour's Rastafarian road manager hires them as the opening act, purely as a means of controlling the feuding between the two lead acts — an aged, washed up rock group called, appropriately enough, The Metal Corpses, and a young British punk band called The Looters, led by Billy, played by a then-svelte Ray Winstone. Fee Waybill (of The Tubes) gives an inspired (and somewhat self-parodying) performance as the Gene Simmons-ish lead singer of The Metal Corpses, complete with every rock cliché attached. They are relics of the stone age when compared to The Looters, who sound like a cross between The Sex Pistols and The Clash, which comes as no surprise given that the band is comprised of former Pistols Paul Cook and Steve Jones, and Clash bassist Paul Simonon. At their first gig, The Stains are anything but fabulous. Though braless in sheer tops, and sporting white-striped mohawks with red lightning bolt makeup, the band sound more like The Shaggs than anything remotely resembling punk. Halfway through their one song — I'm a Waste of Time — Corinne stops the music and goes into a tirade against women who idolize (and sleep with) rock stars, ending with the somewhat infamous, "I'm perfect, but none of you shitholes get me because I don't put out!" This mantra begins to catch on, giving birth to the skunks, young female fans who style themselves after Corinne and follow a "we don't put out" lifestyle. Yet the question remains — is an audience full of underage girls in see-through blouses truly an example of feminist empowerment, or merely exploitation? I'm not entirely sure. The film takes a halfhearted stab at gender politics through a series of local news reports featuring a male-female anchor team arguing about The Stains along gender lines. The condescending male anchor has nothing but hatred and scorn, and sees them as little more than a media creation, with fans simply mimicking what they've seen on TV. She, on the other hand, is all about the girl-power, defends the band's originality and ballsy attitude, and views The Stains as "an appeal for young women to resist." Poorly acted scenes made fascinating by the suggestion of such talk actually being heard on the nightly news.

It's not long before The Stains become the headline act on the tour, thanks (in part) to Corinne's resourcefulness in stealing both The Looters' signature tune and moves. This leads to the following exchange with Billy, one that sums up the film in a nutshell: Corinne: You're so jealous of me. I'm everything you ever wanted to be! Billy: A cunt! (Uttered as only Ray Winstone can.) Corinne: Exactly. Indeed. And though Corinne cynically believes this to be her only method of making it in the male-dominated music biz, such an upset to the natural balance of power is too much for the boys, which leaves Billy no other choice than to destroy The Stains. After being continuously booed by the seemingly all-female audience, Billy, in a variation on Johnny Rotten's "Ever got the feeling you've been cheated?" farewell at the Sex Pistols final gig, convinces the skunks that they are nothing more than adverts for The Stains, who are stuffing their pockets with the dollars spent on tickets, hair dye, makeup etc. In a flash the fans have turned, The Stains are through, and the male power structure has been safely restored. To add insult to injury, Corinne appears on TV with the male anchor (his female co-anchor has been "transferred" to the Washington desk) who gleefully basks in her demise. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains might not be a landmark in feminist cinema, but it certainly is one of the few films to address the disparity between sexes in the rock world. Though pedestrian in its approach, its message is on target: "Every girl should be given a guitar at 16", Corinne declares. As the commodofication of female rock stars continues to increase, perhaps there's some wisdom in those words. Test screenings of the film were abysmal, and Paramount quickly decided to shelve the film. A year later, Adler shot a more upbeat ending (more on that in a moment), but even that didn't result in a proper release. The film became a staple on USA Network's Night Flight show in the mid-80s, which is where it achieved its cult status. A rumored DVD from Paramount in 2004 never materialized, though halfway decent looking bootlegs can be found on EBay for around $10. As for the tacked on happy ending, Adler shows the band in colorfully fashionable outfits and feathered hair (resembling the Go-Go's) performing a watered-down, synth-infused version of their hit song in an MTV video. Fully co-opted and homogenized, with their individuality destroyed, this supposedly upbeat ending is even more depressing than the original. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains isn't a perfect film, and it certainly suffers from some wooden performances and on-the-nose dialog. But as a document of the era, and a general look at the gradual commercialization of punk, it's an absolute must-see.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 9, Week 3

Before revealing the answer to last week's quiz, I just want to thank the cinetrix for organizing a most memorable evening here in NYC. A handful of Brooklyn's finest film bloggers convened at a local Cobble Hill Brasserie to plot global domination drink, discuss, argue about Godard, and then drink some more. Or, as others would no doubt describe it, just a bunch of history-free and sensibility-deprived snake-hipped word slingers who are long on opinions and short on ideas sitting around blurbing the latest Hollywood effulgence. A tip of the hat to the Smith St. gang — thanks for a memorable night. One of the best things about doing these quizzes is reading the anecdotes many of you submit with your responses — memories of the film, when and where you saw it, your thoughts on it, etc. Last week's film seems to hold a special place for quite a few of you — not one, but two people told of losing their virginity while watching this film (interesting), and more than a few of you who saw the film during those awkward pubescent years shared your own particular memories of it. The film of course is John Boorman's Excalibur, a somewhat flawed but fascinating take on the Arthurian legend. Cherie Lunghi and Helen Mirren (pictured) were both positively radiant as Guinevere and Morgana. The film also offers early glimpses of Patrick Stewart, Gabriel Byrne, and Liam Neeson, all of whom were in their cinematic salad days at the time. This week's quiz is perhaps even easier than the last. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

L.A. Story

Director Lee Yoon-ki's brilliant debut This Charming Girl was without question one of the best and most original Korean films of 2004. A small, quiet film that delivered quite a punch, it was a refreshing change from the high-concept titles that now dominate the Korean film industry. His eagerly anticipated follow-up feature, Love Talk, finds Lee in somewhat of sophomore slump with a clunky drama that begins well, but ultimately loses focus (and steam) by the final act. Shot entirely in Los Angeles, Love Talk is one of the few (only?) Korean films set amongst the expat community. It tells of three individuals, each of whom left Korea under unhappy circumstances with hopes of beginning anew in California. Sunny (Bae Jong-ok, Jealousy is My Middle Name) is a lonely 40-ish woman who works in a massage parlor cum brothel situated (appropriately enough) right next to a shady immigration law office. At night she listens to Love Talk, a radio call-in show offering advice on love and sex, hosted by Young-shin, or as she's known to her audience, Helen Jung. Completing the triangle is Ji-seok, Sunny's young male lodger who recently arrived from Korea with hopes of winning back the affection of Young-shin who left him some years earlier. The awkward and often uncomfortable intertwining of the three is structurally quite interesting, but Lee skimps on character development to the detriment of the dramatic tension, which by the film's end has withered into simple melodrama. A real surprise, given the rich, detailed development of Kim Ji-soo's character in This Charming Girl, which is what made it so special. Part of the film's problem is its use of English. Bae Jong-ok, a tremendous actress, clearly doesn't speak the language, and the simple phonetic delivery hampers her ability to find the needed emotion(s), made all the more evident by the strength of her scenes in Korean. The other English dialog in the film is equally as stilted, but as the film is targeted for a Korean-speaking audience, this might not be as much of an issue. At a macro level, there's much to admire about Love Talk, particularly in Lee's vision and direction. From its opening moments, it seems to be paying homage to Alan Rudolph — the night shots of L.A., the slow, lengthy tracking shots, and the jazzy Mark Isham-esque soundtrack are right out of the former Altman-protégé’s playbook. (Not to mention that Helen's late-night radio talk show is nothing if not a direct reference to Choose Me.) Lee's use of L.A. is very restrained, and he resists the urge to fill the screen with iconic images — there's not a single landmark shown, nor shots of palm trees, Beverly Hills, the beach, etc. The L.A. of Love Talk is that of the immigrant population — Asian, Hispanic, or Eastern European — and Lee limits his locations to the ethno-centric downtown area, as well as bits of West Hollywood. (Its realism puts Crash to shame.) Lee's vision of America is far from romantic, and more than a bit cynical. Less a land of opportunity than a means of escape, the willingness of his characters to turn tricks or rewind tapes for a living says a great deal about their desire to be anywhere but home. There's an emphasis on the lack of tradition and culture, and relationships (including marriage) are presented as mere transactions — be it for sex, money, or green card. Though as lonely and depressing as things might get, there are always anti-depressants at the ready (which are still a rarity in Korea.) Yet of all the cultural differences Lee draws attention to, none is more striking that the way meals are presented. The meal in Korean cinema, with its multitude of dishes (and equivalent bottles of soju) is often depicted as a communal and confessional event, where characters speak frankly and reveal hidden truths, secrets, and desires. In Love Talk, characters eat fast-food burgers in their cars, or sit silently side by side while watching television. Powerful and depressing images that are unfortunately lessened by a weak screenplay. Though a disappointing follow-up to This Charming Girl, there are plenty of praiseworthy elements to be found in Love Talk, including several moments that approach perfection. Yet even on repeated viewings, its weaknesses outweigh its strengths, particularly in the final act, which sadly devolves into soap opera. Still, Lee Yoon-ki remains a director to keep an eye on.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 9, Week 2

It rained champagne on the small handful of you that were able to identify Ann Margret, moments before her onanistic dance in suds, chocolate, and baked beans in Ken Russell's over-the-top take on The Who's Tommy. Though few had difficulty recognizing the Swedish born redhead, the guesses were all over the place -- from Kitten With a Whip to Carnal Knowledge to The Cheap Detective and so on. If you haven't seen Tommy, you're missing out on something special. Overblown and overwrought, it really is Russell turned up to 11, with some very strange casting choices for a musical. While Eric Clapton performing Eyesight to the Blind or Tina Turner gyrating as The Acid Queen makes perfect sense, who in their wildest dreams would cast Oliver Reed or Jack Nicholson as suitable crooners for Pete Townsend tunes? Still, Jack's handling of Go to the Mirror is a thing of wonder indeed. Rent it today! We'll stay on the easy side for week 2. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

From Director to Dictator: Kim Jong-il on the Art of Cinema

Back in the early 70s, years before he decided to launch Taepodong missiles towards Japan and Hawaii, Kim Jong-il was North Korea's culture minister — a job given to him by founding Prime Minster Kim Il-sung, or as Kim likes to call him, dad. Tasked with creating a national cinema that embodied the spirit of the people's revolution, Kim would regularly visit movie sets to "oversee" the production of films, and some have credited him as the director of such classic films as The Flower Girl and Sea of Blood. In 1973, Kim wrote his treatise on film — the 330 page On the Art of Cinema, which, sadly, is less a study of the art form than it is a rulebook for all aspiring North Korean directors. It's interesting to note that Kim never found a director who could actualize his vision, and as a result kidnapped South Korean director Shin Sang-ok and forced him to make propaganda films for over eight years. With the pint-sized leader rapidly working his way towards the top of the Public Enemy list, I thought it would be an excellent time to purchase and read through this masterwork. To call Kim's writing dry would be an understatement. From its opening sentence ("This is the great age of Juche.") to its on-the-nose chapter headings ("In Creative Work One Must Aim High"), it's soon obvious that we're not faced with a page-turner. But beneath the propaganda about ideas as seeds, working-class revolutionary heroes, and how dramatic conflict should be settled in accordance with the law of class struggle, there are a few passages about Hollywood and the studio system that ring true (and are perhaps even more valid today than they were in '73). Two of the more interesting ones: "A film which merely aims to make a profit by showing off the stars' faces cannot be real art. The capitalist cinema, which promotes a few 'popular stars' to curry favor with the audience, is in essence a reactionary art form which reduces the stars to puppets and the film to a commodity. There cannot be a genuine creative spirit, and the beautiful flower of art cannot bloom where actors sell their faces and even their souls." "In the capitalist system of filmmaking, the 'director' carries that title, but in fact the right of supervision and control over film production is entirely in the hands of the tycoons of the industry who have the money, whereas the directors are nothing but their agents. [The director] is a mere worker who obeys the will of the industrialists whether he likes it or not." Chris Columbus comes to mind. Yet if stories out of North Korea are true, Kim is a die-hard film fanatic who has a private vault of over 15,000 films, many of which are the so-called capitalist film he denounces. (One can only wonder if he's seen Team America.) Though the book is bogged down in ideological arguments on proper communist art, many of Kim's rules aren't far removed from what you'd find in a Syd Field book. He's a champion of method acting, encourages originality, stresses the need for screenwriters to have an excellent grasp of language, and places great importance on the use of music. (As evinced by the chapter, "A Film Without Music is Incomplete.") The book closes with a few chapters on film criticism, which Kim sees a collective endeavor. Critics are meant to come together and collectively assess a film purely on its adherence to Juche-oriented ideas, and the director's understanding of Party policy. (Sort of like what Armond does.) For fun, passages from On the Art of Cinema can easily be applied to current releases. To wit: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest: "A film with an untidy plot cannot grip the audience and define their emotional response. Only when the storyline flows naturally and logically can the film rouse the ideological and emotional sympathy of the audience, and make their hearts beat faster. If it does not convince the audience of the truth through the natural flow of the story, it is not art." The Break-Up: "If the characters' behavior in a given situation is determined by the whim of the writer, and not by their own will and conviction, they will not seem like living people and will fail to arouse a genuine emotional response. Actions which have no basis in logic or the characters' rationale are no more than the imposed movements of marionettes." Any Michael Bay/Jerry Bruckheimer/Roland Emmerich film: "Introducing some stunning occurrence or the total impact of something completely strange and unheard of in the hope of evoking meaningless exclamations of wonder is a vulgarity which is incompatible with art created for the people." On the Art of Cinema can be ordered from Amazon.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 9, Week 1

Greetings all, and welcome to the ninth round of the Filmbrain weekly screen capture quiz! I've just returned from having one too many cocktails with some neighborhood bloggers, so please forgive any solecisms. Rules are as always -- each Wednesday morning for the next twelve weeks a new screen cap will be posted. All screen shots come from DVDs in the Filmbrain library, and are limited to titles available in Region 1. One point is awarded for each correct guess, though there may be opportunities for a bonus point. Answers can be submitted until the next quiz is posted. At the end of the round, the three individuals with the highest scores will have the opportunity to select any DVD used in the round as their prize. Note that there will not be connections between screen caps in this round. (Let's just say that was an experiment that didn't pan out as I'd imagined.) As with every round, we'll begin with an easy one. Name the actress with the high-tech remote control and the film in which she's using it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Like Anna Karina's Anna

A holy grail landed on my doorstep the other day. Years ago, while navigating my way through late-night German television, I stumbled upon Pierre Koralnik's 1967 téléfilm Anna, starring Filmbrain muse Anna Karina. My knowledge of the film at the time was limited to the Serge Gainsbourg soundtrack, with its famous cover photo of the former Mrs. Godard looking a bit blue in the face. And though tired and drunk on Kräuterlikör, I was positively mesmerized by this psychedelic mod-pop musical. Attempts at obtaining a copy of the film led to numerous dead-ends over the years, but my persistence finally paid off, for I now possess a DVD of the film that, while not the best quality, allows me to indulge, repeatedly, in this forgotten minor-masterpiece of 60s culture. I'm convinced Anna would not be languishing in relative obscurity had it not been a made-for-TV movie. A combination of Godard's playful subversions and Jacques Demy's candy-colored musical romanticism, Anna is a uniquely fascinating document of the era, as well as a monument to both pop-culture and the pre-'68 Paris scene. Sure, it may not stand up to intellectual scrutiny, but at the very least deserves a prominent place in the history of the French musical. Anna opens with a bang — a politically charged scene that calls to mind the work of Otto Mühl and the Viennese Actionists: a large group, decked out in sportswear and clear plastic coats, attack each other with paint. (Viet Nam allusion cum fashion statement?) It's a remarkable sequence that is in no way indicative of the wafer-thin romantic drama that follows, though the film does occasionally lapse into Fellini-esque anti-war musical sequences, including GI Joe, one of enfant terrible Gainsbourg's more acerbic songs. (GI Joe you will die under the American flag/GI Joe all the rockets will have your American skin!) Though the DVD is without subtitles, the story couldn't be simpler — Successful ad-man Jean-Claude Brialy has fallen in love with a face on a photograph. Obsessed with finding this woman, it's not long before giant posters of the image are plastered all across Paris. (Blowup influences abound.) The face belongs to Ms. Karina (natch), the titular Anna, a dreamer who spends a fair amount of her time wondering if she'll ever find Mr. Right. And though she works in the same ad agency as Brialy, he doesn't recognize her as the mysterious beauty because she (get this) wears glasses! (Yes, that staple of the 80s music video is here a major plot point.)

Save for a few moments of actual dialog, the story is told primarily through Gainsbourg's songs, which are sung (though in the case of Brialy, spoken-sung) by the characters. A young Marianne Faithfull turns in a wonderful rendition of Hier ou Demain, and Gainsbourg himself is on hand for a few duets. These are easily some of his strongest compositions, and some view Anna as the precursor to his 1971 masterpiece Histoire de Melody Nelson. Here he shows off both his pop-hit skills (the classic Sous Le Soleil Exactement and the Wild Thing-inspired Roller Girl) as well as his talent as orchestral composer, which at times sounds very Bacharach-esque: Download Sous Le Soleil Exactement (Orchestral Version) Koralnik (who would go on to direct the disappointing Cannabis) borrows from several of his contemporaries — his street scenes have Truffaut written all over them, his use of non-diegetic sound (pinball machines are heard throughout) is reminiscent of Godard, and its overall approach to the musical is rooted in Demy's Les Parapluies de Cherbourg. But first and foremost, Anna is a genuine paean to its star, and Koralnik films her as lovingly as Jean-Luc did years earlier. She's shot almost entirely in close-ups, and at times the film feels like an extended study of her facial expressions. It's an Anna Karina-fetishist's dream come true, and seals her place as one of cinema's most beautiful women. It high time that Anna was rescued from the land of the forgotten téléfilm and given its due. No future compendium of essential 60s cinema will be complete without it. Though unavailable by any legal means, there are a handful of clips available on YouTube, including the one below, which finds Anna daydreaming about a place directly under the sun. If ever I were to compile a list of scenes I'd want with me on a deserted island, this would certainly be on there. Enjoy:

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz Round 8: Some Winners, and a Tiebreaker

Was it the holiday weekend, or simply the difficulty of last week's quiz that was responsible for the trickle of correct responses received? In all fairness, the three studious youths pictured have but a split second appearance in Amy Heckerling's canonical Fast Times at Ridgemont High, the greatest of the 80s High School comedies (ah.....Phoebe). It's singer-songwriter Jackson Browne that connects this film to Taxi Driver -- Travis Bickle watches the teenies dance to Late For the Sky on American Bandstand, while Somebody's Baby is the cloying recurring theme for Jennifer Jason Leigh's character. Extra special congrats to the few of you that got it! Well, the scores have been tallied, and the results are in. The average score this round was 16 points out of a possible 23 -- a bit of a jump from Round 7, owing in part (I believe) to the connections between quizzes. Only one person managed to get a perfect score -- New York's own Jonah V, a Round 7 winner as well. In third place, with a score of 20, is another former winner, Henry P. Well done! Any DVD used in this round is yours for the asking. As for second place, there's a three-way tie between Matthew D, Mike F, and Nicholas R, all of whom racked up an impressive 21 points this round. The capture below is a tiebreaker quiz for those three, but feel free to submit an answer just for the fun of it. Note that there is no connection between this film and Fast Times. Submit your answers to this address, and be sure to check back next week for the start of Round 9. Good luck! Update: Clearly, I had fireworks on the brain when I wrote this post late last night. As Sal C points out in a comment below, one of the second place winners should automatically have the third place slot. Sorry for the gaffe. To make amends, I'd like to offer all five of the aforementioned contestants a prize for this round.