The New Beaches Will Bomb Like Normandie

There's a new BEACHES coming out next month and it's bound to suck. Here's why.

 BEACHES is a great story, for those of you who haven't seen the 1988 original. It follows the story of two women, C.C. Bloom and Hillary Whitney who meet on the boardwalk as young girls, and follows their journey into adulthood. C.C. is a poor child star who blossoms into a successful actress while Hillary is an aristocrat who marries the wrong guy and is forced to raise a child by herself. Through their 30 year relationship, we see them struggle with adulting, have a falling out, reconcile, and eventually deal with Hillary's fatal diagnosis of viral cardiomyopathy. One might think "Hey, there's not a lot of plot here" which critics initially did, but there is more to the 28 year old gem that is now a home video and cable TV classic.

BEACHES was released under the fairly new Touchstone Pictures, a little side project designed by the Disney studio to bring in a more adult themed demographic. The films the studio was turning out were generally comedies and very successful. In 1987, Touchstone released STAKEOUT and THREE MEN AND A BABY. Both films cost roughly $15 million. STAKEOUT tripled its production cost in revenue while THREE MEN AND A BABY racked in $168 million, making it the most financially successful picture of the year. The line of films also gave Oscar nominated Bette Midler a contract for a series of films after she had been out of work for roughly seven years. She was rising to the top with hit Touchstone comedies like DOWN AND OUT IN BEVERLY HILLS, RUTHLESS PEOPLE, OUTRAGEOUS FORTUNE and BIG BUSINESS, all of which were very successful. BEACHES would be her return to drama after many years.

So how does a film that is panned by critics, with a very thin plot line, triple its budget of $20 million to $60 million in its initial release? It had to be more than just a hit soundtrack. What were all the critics missing? To be honest, they missed what the people behind this remake are missing: the beautiful way that director Garry Marshall and editor Richard Hasley put it all together. The key to a successful drama is to enter the viewer's subconscious through subtle editing. Only when the subconscious is entered can a heart string really be tugged. If the viewer can see what the editor is doing without analyzing it, then the emotional effect is lost. BEACHES has many touching moments through its editing.

Consider the scene in which the film's hit song "Wind Beneath My Wings" is featured. Hillary is about to die and her death could have been a drawn out process. Instead, Hasley chose to edit it in a sequence that took 11 shots and less than two minutes. Here's a brief analysis. Shot one: Hillary on her bed, in focus as C.C., out of focus, is talking to a nurse about getting her released so she can die at home.

Cut to a melancholy C.C. looking out from a porch. What is she witnessing that is so sad and difficult in her face?

Cut to Hillary and her daughter saying their goodbyes on the beach as C.C. walks towards them.

Cut back to C.C. as her expression changes from sad and difficult to sad and accepting of Hillary starting to fade away.

Cut back to Hillary on the beach. The camera zooms in on the beach chairs as C.C. sits next to her.

Cut to C.C. as she turns and smiles at Hillary, in an attempt to lift her spirits.

Cut to the beach sunset. The beach has the potential to symbolize so much but for this writer, it symbolizes where life begins and ends, and also where C.C. and Hillary's relationship begins and ends (they met on the Atlantic City boardwalk toward the beginning of the film when Hillary got lost).

Cut back to C.C. as a look of fear hits her face.

Cut back to the beach sunset as the camera follows a horse trotting on the sand, and the sun has now mostly set, two symbols of Hillary's soul leaving.

Cut to the funeral. Hillary's coffin is revealed under two symbolic curtains. A group of bodies in black suits in front of the camera peel away to reveal a Hearst, which drives off to finally reveal a coffin. We see a figure in black in front of it.

The camera cuts to reveal the figure as C.C., and we know that Whitney has in fact passed.

So simple, and yet so poignant. There is no dialogue after that first shot-- just music and sound effects. How did the critics miss this? How did the people who decided to remake the film miss this? Unless Lifetime plans on doing a shot-for-shot remake, there's no way their film will even compare. It's debatable whether or not viewers pay attention and notice the editing details of the sequence outlined in this post, but the fluidity is what triggers each level of emotion within them and keeps them returning to this film for repeated viewing. It's flattering that Idina Menzel and Nia Long want to star in a remake, but it's bound to fail, plain and simple. Why? Because the potential of artistic merit in the direction and editing that the original had is lacking.

How the Rosie O'Donnell show saved my life

Growing up gay in a small conservative town in Wisconsin, school was a nightmare. I was picked on, called names, and just felt...different. I was different. I was a gay overweight Indian. This was a town where it was expected for teen boys to fall into the conforming net of society. One was supposed to dress a certain way, gel their hair a certain way, listen to a certain kind of music, even watch specific TV shows. To extend a toe off of this path was to declare the right to be humiliated.

I didn't know it was okay to be gay because I didn't know any gay men. I didn't know anything other than the word "gay" associated with "sin" "Hell" "pervert" "child molester" "weird" "wrong" or "troubled". The connotation of "gay" was never a positive thing. I felt like I was doomed. More than that, I was blossoming into a young man with ideas and opinions, as one does at that age, and my homosexual identity was beginning to become more present. It was becoming harder to disguise myself, which meant that I was starting to expose myself to more bullying on a regular basis. Every day, the bullying got worse and worse. The name calling turned more vile. It then turned into threats. I was living in a constant state of fear, isolation, and disgust of who I was and where I was headed in life.

There was a daily savior to all of this, thankfully. Every day I would get a ride home from school, and to wind down from the hassles, I would throw off my sneakers, plop down, and from 3pm-4pm tune in to my FOX affiliate for The Rosie O'Donnell show. Rosie O'Donnell, with her energy, kush balls, live Broadway performances, interviews with legendary performers, and a heart of charity and love lifted me out of a dark depression I faced.

I was learning about what my hobbies were, and began to take an interest in pop history. This was at a time when there was no Youtube, music videos couldn't be downloaded, and the internet gave you one picture every 10 minutes. Rosie's show would dig through old archives, however, and show clips of rare television shows, live concerts, vintage Tony Award performances (her show displayed a large array of Broadway legends) and I was soon learning that I had a large passion for retro film and television clips, and wanted to veer in that direction professionally when I grew up. I was beginning to find my purpose in life-- my motivation. This helped me come out of my shell and begin to gain the self confidence I needed to not be afraid of the world or myself.

But this show was more than just a distraction to me, it was also a lifesaver. Because episodes featured prominent musicians and Broadway actors, among other popular Hollywood folk, a number of LGBT guests, openly gay at a time when this was rarely discussed, came on screen and suddenly I began to see that there was a light at the end of the tunnel for me. Not only was I not all of those terrible things that people associate with the word "gay" just because I was gay, but here were positive role models that I could look up to and know that one could still be LGBT and be very successful in life. Rosie O'Donnell, years before she came out of the closet herself, taught me through her guests that to be LGBT was nothing to be ashamed of and that it would all be alright.

So, from the bottom of my heart, I would like to say thank you, both to her and her show, for giving me that lesson.


------------------------------------

Follow me on twitter @mediamancub

The archive within an archival screening

The UCLA Film and Television Archive regularly programs series that focus on a certain subject, country's work, or the specific work of a director or actor. These last two months have been a treat for Joan Blondell fans like myself, as the Archive programmed 14 prints of her films, all on 16mm and 35mm, and from the screenings that I attended, in great shape. Each screening was preceeded by rare home movies of Blondell and her family in their home from the 1940s, followed by a double feature of her films. My favorite film of Blondell that would have been perfect to show in the Christmas season is Desk Set, but knowing this film line for line, I was sated by knowing I would be learning more about her career with the chosen films.

For an archivist like myself, an evening that rang true was November 5th, featuring Three on a Match and Three Broadway Girls, both of the Precode era. Precode films are known for being a little more risque than their counterparts, as with the code came heavy censorship. Joan Blondell was a princess when it came to Precode female roles, as illustrated by her character in Three on a Match who is seen as a juvenile delinquent turned Broadway star. As the film progresses, she soon has to convince Ann Dvorak's character to give up her wild life of drugs and drinking and go back to her husband and child. Bette Davis is featured in an early role as a third friend (the three share a match and bad luck ensues). Three Broadway Girls features Blondell as one of three actresses trying to make ends meet during the great depression.

Archivally, this evening exploded on the screen with so many layers of how the moving image captures time. The home movies, restored from the original 16mm elements and shown digitally, capture what the home of a movie star would have been like back in the 1940s. Just by seeing that these 16mm films were shot in color, the audience can see that Blondell and husband Dick Powell were of status. The hair styles, the love they show their child (now much older and attended all the screenings with his charming wife) and the wonderful environment of their Hollywood home gave a glimpse into a very specific time of this family's history.

In Three on a Match, the story begins at the turn of the century, and shows the characters growing up before they become their leading parts. Each time period is shown passing by shots of newspapers and archive footage of that history of time. Imagine, a 1932 film that utilizes archive footage! The events that are told are specific to their time as well. For example, when the three lead females are first shown, a newspaper clipping from the early 1900s discussing how mandatory education was just enforced is shown and the film cuts to a public school playground. 

Three Broadway Girls, also featuring Madge Evans and Ina Claire was shown on 16mm and surprisingly was of better quality than Three on a Match, much to my surprise (although for their age both were quite stunning to see on the big screen). A lighter plot, I was still awed that because this took place in the time that it did, a peak into that specific moment in history was unveiled. The costumes, hair, and difference in class, generation, and styles of living between the characters, not to mention the hysterical banter between the leads that left us laughing the whole car ride home, brought us back to a time now gone.

I congratulate the UCLA Film and Television archive on being able to consistently program titles that speak to audiences. If you haven't gone to one of their events, I recommend going soon. The series still has two more screenings and details can be seen here:

https://www.cinema.ucla.edu/events/2016/blonde-crazy-joan-blondell

New Beverly Cinema presents Flower Drum Song in Vibrant IB Technicolor

"Vibrant" is really the only adjective to explain an IB Technicolor print. A print that goes through a dye process in its making, the colors are permanent and help provide a reference to people who want to know how the film is supposed to look in years to come. As studios today pop out remastered versions of films on home video, streaming, and even DCP for repertory movie theaters, the debates between how far off the colors were from the original release or rereleases in the past always comes into question. No film is ever kept the same color as its original negative. Timing the colors based on the cinematographer's desired mise-en-scene has been in effect since the dawn of color cinema. How these colors should be timed from the original negative can be referenced in several ways, but with the changing technology of our times, using one of these non-fading prints is the ideal way. So the question does come into play, is it responsible for one to run these prints until they wear out, or should they be preserved for longevity purposes so that the film can be seen as intended for generations to come?

While these prints probably shouldn't be used for projection on a regular basis, when one gets an opportunity to see one, it is a real treat-- given that the film is in good condition. When the New Beverly has shown an IB print in the past, however, they tend to be worn, scratched, filled with splices that cut out sections of the film, and tend to have a worn optical track as well. The Sergio Leoni series it had months ago are examples of this. While the theater raved about showing the entire series in IB Technicolor prints, it had (less than three years earlier) ran the majority of these films in prints that looked much better and had the same quality of color, albeit without the "IB Technicolor" branding. This leads to another question when the New Beverly does their "Vibrant IB Technicolor" screenings, which I am a sucker for and try to catch, hypocrite that I am. What would be better to see, a very scratched up and spliced-to-pieces print that went through this dye process, or a print in better condition which generally, if there still are the correct color timings, could be of much better quality?

The screening of Flower Drum Song was a treat, as the New Beverly usually does deliver. The colors blew me away, as did the opportunity of seeing the dance numbers on the big screen. A musical film of that caliber with the framing of its dance sequences, choice of dreamy colors, and incredibly talented cast (many of the actors were from the Broadway production), should be seen on the big screen, regardless of the print quality. The very geometry of where people fall into the frame during the song and dance numbers is so impressive and can't be captured on a television in your home. It's unfathomable how people could have watched this film in the days of pan-and-scan before letterbox became available.

The print was great in some sections, with only minor vertical scratches (base and emulsion). However, there were some pretty spliced up sections as well during the dialogue sections. Given that this film has a light plot and is more about the environment that the characters live in (a very stereotyped Chinatown, San Francisco in the 1950s), there was nothing wrong with the two to three scenes that had this issue. One of the scenes toward the end that had the most splices, in which the two main love interests reconcile, is known for slowing down the film's pace, so the fact that it was sped up meant the audience could stay engaged with the film.

The sound of the print was less than ideal. Being a 1961 Cinemascope film, Flower Drum Song was released in 4-track stereo prints. While general release prints would might have been downmixed to mono, the fidelity of this print sounded as though the 4 track stereo was simply compressed onto a mono track without any mixing done. Usually, levels would be adjusted for this sort of thing but in this case, the audio of the music numbers was very blown out on the optical track, making the lyrics inaudible and the sound of the instruments grainy and distorted. The purpose of an IB Technicolor print is to simply reference the colors of the original negative, so the sound quality was never intended to be pristine, but if one watches a mono film on IB prints, this usually isn't a problem. I wonder if the original mix had been mono if we would have had a different sound experience in that theater.

Content rating: A-
Presentation rating: B

New Beverly Cinema presents Flower Drum Song in Vibrant IB Technicolor

"Vibrant" is really the only adjective to explain an IB Technicolor print. A print that goes through a dye process in its making, the colors are permanent and help provide a reference to people who want to know how the film is supposed to look in years to come. As studios today pop out remastered versions of films on home video, streaming, and even DCP for repertory movie theaters, the debates between how far off the colors were from the original release or rereleases in the past always comes into question. No film is ever kept the same color as its original negative. Timing the colors based on the cinematographer's desired mise-en-scene has been in effect since the dawn of color cinema. How these colors should be timed from the original negative can be referenced in several ways, but with the changing technology of our times, using one of these non-fading prints is the ideal way. So the question does come into play, is it responsible for one to run these prints until they wear out, or should they be preserved for longevity purposes so that the film can be seen as intended for generations to come?

While these prints probably shouldn't be used for projection on a regular basis, when one gets an opportunity to see one, it is a real treat-- given that the film is in good condition. When the New Beverly has shown an IB print in the past, however, they tend to be worn, scratched, filled with splices that cut out sections of the film, and tend to have a worn optical track as well. The Sergio Leoni series it had months ago are examples of this. While the theater raved about showing the entire series in IB Technicolor prints, it had (less than three years earlier) ran the majority of these films in prints that looked much better and had the same quality of color, albeit without the "IB Technicolor" branding. This leads to another question when the New Beverly does their "Vibrant IB Technicolor" screenings, which I am a sucker for and try to catch, hypocrite that I am. What would be better to see, a very scratched up and spliced-to-pieces print that went through this dye process, or a print in better condition which generally, if there still are the correct color timings, could be of much better quality?

The screening of Flower Drum Song was a treat, as the New Beverly usually does deliver. The colors blew me away, as did the opportunity of seeing the dance numbers on the big screen. A musical film of that caliber with the framing of its dance sequences, choice of dreamy colors, and incredibly talented cast (many of the actors were from the Broadway production), should be seen on the big screen, regardless of the print quality. The very geometry of where people fall into the frame during the song and dance numbers is so impressive and can't be captured on a television in your home. It's unfathomable how people could have watched this film in the days of pan-and-scan before letterbox became available.

The print was great in some sections, with only minor vertical scratches (base and emulsion). However, there were some pretty spliced up sections as well during the dialogue sections. Given that this film has a light plot and is more about the environment that the characters live in (a very stereotyped Chinatown, San Francisco in the 1950s), there was nothing wrong with the two to three scenes that had this issue. One of the scenes toward the end that had the most splices, in which the two main love interests reconcile, is known for slowing down the film's pace, so the fact that it was sped up meant the audience could stay engaged with the film.

The sound of the print was less than ideal. Being a 1961 Cinemascope film, Flower Drum Song was released in 4-track stereo prints. While general release prints would might have been downmixed to mono, the fidelity of this print sounded as though the 4 track stereo was simply compressed onto a mono track without any mixing done. Usually, levels would be adjusted for this sort of thing but in this case, the audio of the music numbers was very blown out on the optical track, making the lyrics inaudible and the sound of the instruments grainy and distorted. The purpose of an IB Technicolor print is to simply reference the colors of the original negative, so the sound quality was never intended to be pristine, but if one watches a mono film on IB prints, this usually isn't a problem. I wonder if the original mix had been mono if we would have had a different sound experience in that theater.

Content rating: A-
Presentation rating: B

Nosferatu

Last night, my boyfriend and I decided to take advantage of my Groupon subscription for the first time and splurged on $10 tickets to an event being hosted at the Santa Clarita Performing Arts Center (which is really just a college auditorium). They ran the film Nosferatu with a live orchestra, featuring the west coast premiere of an original score. I am always down to do anything Halloween, and boyfriend had been itching me to rent the film for a long time, so this was an ideal opportunity.

So, I have to say, that the concept was quite cool. Seeing a silent film with a live orchestra can add something that watching a silent film on DVD or television just doesn’t have. If one does see a silent film in a theater, these days it is generally with a live organ or a piano, or a prerecorded track onto the film. I had high expectations going into the event because of this, and may have set myself up for failure.

The most common DVD release of the film is the Kino Lorber release, which features the typical synthesizer that they add to all of their films. Kino tends to replace title cards with a digital still they create, and while they do great work for the budget that they maintain, this would not have been an ideal form of the film to run in this vicinity. Yes—the orchestra played along with the DVD of the film, as shown on a video projector, not properly focused on the screen, and with the home video logo opening the event.

I know there are readers rolling their eyes at me, and they are entitled, but let me clarify why this is a problem. Yes, the film Nosferatu may be in the public domain, but that does not mean that a company’s restoration of the film is necessarily in the public domain. Now, we could give the Santa Clarita Performing Arts Center the benefit of the doubt that they got permission from Kino Lorber to run the DVD, but there was no mention in the program, nor in the opening and closing remarks that this was the case, which makes me speculate otherwise.

My biggest nag with this, however, was the score. Oof, that score. I never thought the day would come when I preferred a Kino Lorber synthesizer soundtrack to a live score. Let me break it down for you. A section of strings plays 8 whole notes, and a drummer bangs cacophony for another bar. A section of horns plays 8 whole notes, and a drummer bangs cacophony for another bar. All the while a therymin eerily plays over the whole score doing its own thing. I wasn’t grabbed, and I started thinking about work. And generally, if a movie experience on a Saturday night makes me think about work, it goes in the ‘not fun’ pile.

What could have made this better? A little more liveliness to the score for starters. The wonderful thing about being able to compose a new score for an old film is one can be as creative as he wants when doing so. There were so many opportunities to have an elastic moment with the music composition, and I felt that, beyond lacking a melody, all the audience got was a “BOOM” when Nosferatu showed up. Additionally, these Kino Lorber restorations were meant to be seen at home, on a tv screen. The tints that are used with the image are saturated for that kind of viewing. When they appear on a video projector in a live auditorium, they look lame. The skipping of the film frames (common for silent films released of this time as the elements are in rugged shape) would not have looked as choppy on a tv screen at home, but on a large screen in an auditorium appeared very digital, as if I was watching a slideshow.

Now, in the festive mood of the Halloween Holiday, I will say that for $10 I did not mind paying what I paid for this event. The costumes of the stoned college kids, the homely Santa Clarita crowd, and the lovely college auditorium and its cozy ambience made this an okay evening for what it was. But, I will say, the reason I am being so harsh is we did this on a groupon. There are people who paid $40 for their tickets to this event. For $40, a professional DCP could have been rented. A professional score should have been played. That is all.

Goodtimes Home Video does not guarantee a good time

As a rule growing up for someone like myself who lived off of old movies, if you rented a video and it started with this logo, you knew you were in for a troublesome experience:

Goodtimes Home Video...the king of public domain and obscure home video releases at cheap quality rates. From the KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park TV special to clip videos such as A Tribute To Lucy and classic features such as Charade and Royal Wedding, Goodtimes was one of those home video companies that always made me scratch my head and wonder how they always stuck around. Their transfers were usually analog from old analog video sources from old public domain prints. Every Goodtimes VHS I have seen has been recorded on LP mode. Most tapes are recorded on SP mode, which allow 2 hours of program on an average size cassette, allowing for superior video quality. By recording in LP mode, which allows 4 hours of program, about half of the amount of physical tape needs to be used. This had its downfalls. It meant low frequency sound and a much softer image, not to mention thick lines during seek mode on your VCR that made it difficult to scan through. Also, LP tapes have a higher rate of video dropout.

Through 2007, when the company finally folded, Goodtimes seemed to nudge its way into the DVD era, by releasing their older titles on DVD using the same video sources they used for their VHS. I was taken aback the other day when I went to the public library and decided to rent an old film for the evening. There on the rack was the DVD of "Royal Wedding", a public domain film that every video company and their Nanna has tried to release. Official releases from MGM exist as well, but the film is commonly seen on internet streaming sites, public television, VHS and DVD because anyone has the right to profit from it. I saw the Goodtimes Home Video logo before I saw anything else and decided that I was going to tolerate whatever transfer I received as it was a free rental. There on the front cover though, my friends, were the words used so liberally: Digitally Restored. "This I have to see" I told myself and popped it into my machine the minute I got home. Before the feature even started came a white text on black background disclaimer, and I'm paraphrasing here: "This film has been restored using the best possible elements."

The first frame came on, and my inner voice flipped into Claire Huxtable sternly saying "What have you done?" to the makers of this DVD. Spending many years in the film and video archive world, I have been able to identify analog video sources based on grain pattern, dropout quality, and video overhead quality. What I was seeing, based on the video line on the right and the grain pattern of the image, appeared to be a DVD of a D2 of a 1" C video source. The 1" soundtrack had not been calibrated before being transferred to the D2 and the result was a lot of pops and clicks on the DVD. Now I have not seen the official DVD of this film, but SURELY there exists a better "element" of the film than a D2 or 1". This is what we were looking at:

This opens my third eye. I don't mind people releasing films on home video and them being sub par quality if there are other versions available. If you can make a buck, and there are people willing to pay a few bucks as opposed to more than 10, go for it! But why lie? Blatantly, at that. Nothing was digitally restored for this film. There wasn't a computer used to color correct the image. Scratches weren't removed, the soundtrack wasn't cleaned. What exactly was done to fix this? And on top of that, why is the company claiming that they used the 'best elements' for this, as if it had accomplished some great feat by releasing a D2 of a public domain film on DVD!!! The people who would buy a film like this would know when they are being fed a bowl of doo-doo in the form of a home video. Shame on you Goodtimes Home Video! It's no wonder you folded!!!

Signed,
The Celluloid Avenger