Lately, you may have noticed a longer time between postings here. Yes, of course, I’ve been busy. A new term at Art Center just began; I’m working on a new book, several time intensive projects, and heading to the Dice conference tomorrow to speak. Nevertheless, I’ve been busy for years. The saying, “If you want something done, ask a busy person,” applies to me. The issue is graphic design. I spend all day with it. I teach, write, and yammer on about it. Lately, when I think about posting something I look at possible design pieces and think, “I am so over this.” Don’t worry. It’s a passing phase, and I’m bound to find some design I’m inspired by soon.

To escape typography, I watched Doctor Zhivago, Lawrence of Arabia, and Ryan’s Daughter again recently. They are all remarkable. If you haven’t seen these, they aren’t what you think. Yes, Doctor Zhivago and Ryan’s Daughter are love stories. But they are played out on such a vast scale against epic times. And, they are extraordinarily and exquisitely designed.  David Lean’s vision is clear and refined. Julie Christie (who looks remarkably like Paula Scher) is the most beautiful woman who ever lived. The Panavision cinemascope and color is unbelievable. These are big, big, big movies. This is what a movie is supposed to look like.

I admit, there are some aspects that didn’t age well. Everyone’s makeup in Doctor Zhivago is a little heavy and runs toward a groovy 1965 dark eyes, light lips look. As T. E. Lawrence, Peter O’Toole captures a complex and troubled character, but he should have said “no,” to the third application of mascara.

Finally, there is a scene in Ryan’s Daughter that is my favorite in any film. It’s only a moment, when Sarah Miles lies on the forest ground and looks up. The camera points up to the tree’s canopy. There is no music, only the sound of the rustling leaves and creaking of the branches as they barely move in the wind.

David Lean, Lawrence of Arabia, 1962

David Lean, Lawrence of Arabia, 1962

Julie Christie, Doctor Zhivago, 1965

David Lean, Doctor Zhivago, 1965

David Lean, Ryan's Daughter, 1970

David Lean, Ryan's Daughter, 1970

Share This Story

Jean Cocteau’s La belle et la bête is one of the most beautiful films ever produced. If you think it is simply a black and white version of the Disney Beauty and the Beast, yes, you are wrong. Cocteau’s 1946 creation is soft, dreamlike, and romantic. It touches on surrealism, Jungian, and Freudian psychology. Each frame is sublime, yet compositionally erratic. Figures are askew, foreground objects hide the main action, and lighting is intentionally operatic. The intention is to create a narrative that is similar to a dream: symbols and the hidden information produce meaning.

The overt theme is that there is good in everyone. However, the characters all behave, at times, cruelly. The Cocteau version is about complex and contradictory behavior. There is subterfuge, hidden agenda, and betrayal mixed with compassion and kindness. Understanding the timing here is important. Cocteau produced La belle et la bête one year after the end of World War II. France was recovering from Nazi occupation, the puppet Vichy Regime, and years of combat. The war forced the French population into complex and unwelcome alliances to survive. The story can be viewed as one of understanding and sensitivity, or a Stockholm syndrome kidnapping. The duality mixed with the surreal set of symbols sets this apart from a simple fairy tale.

Title, La belle et la bête, 1946

La bête et La belle, La belle et la bête, 1946

Jean Marais, La belle et la bête, 1946

Josette Day, La belle et la bête, 1946

Surreal candle holders, La belle et la bête, 1946

The surreal hall, La belle et la bête, 1946

Fireplace statue, La belle et la bête, 1946

La belle et la bête, 1946

poster, La belle et la bête, 1946

Share This Story

Audrey Hepburn after the makeover

The last time we went to Paris, Noreen had just watched Funny Face. This proved to be a mistake, as she insisted on singing Bonjour Paris everywhere we went. This is funny the first couple of times, but after awhile is trying, especially when the French stare and shout, “Madame, Taisez-vous!” I admit, however, that I love Funny Face and was tempted to sing as well. If you haven’t seen Funny Face, and think Saved By the Bell is an old classic, you need help. You are sad.

Here’s the basic plot. Audrey Hepburn is a beatnik and dowdy salesgirl at a Greenwich Village bookstore. The crew from a high fashion magazine, including the editor, Kaye Thompson, and photographer, Fred Astaire, descend upon the store for a high fashion photo shoot. Poor Audrey Hepburn, hideous and dowdy, is forced to be an extra next to the incredibly severe model. When the photos are developed, everyone agrees Audrey Hepburn should be made-over and sent to Paris as the star model. They all fly to Paris, sing the song, and shoot some fashion photos. Audrey Hepburn gets mixed up with some beatniks, and everyone is freaked she’ll miss the big fashion show.

There are a few highlights that I love. Fred Astaire’s character, Dick Avery, is based on Richard Avedon. The art director is based on Alexey Brodovitch. The magazine decides that pink is the color of the moment. Of course, it’s impossible to see Audrey Hepburn as ugly, so that part doesn’t work.

Funny Face album, 1957

Audrey Hepburn as the hideous book seller

Funny Face, the severe model

Funny Face, Think Pink

Bonjour Paris

Share This Story

Virna Lisi, photograph by Douglas Kirkland, 1966

On this season’s Mad Men, Don Draper has a groovy pad in Manhattan. This is what I thought until I saw How to Murder Your Wife. Jack Lemmon’s townhouse is what it should be. The movie is probably the most misogynistic movie ever made. It’s up there with the racist Birth of a Nation on the offensive scale.

Jack Lemmon plays a confirmed bachelor (not code for gay here) who accidentally marries Virna Lisi after a drunken party. Lisi is Italian and speaks no English, and begins to redecorate the groovy bachelor pad. She also cooks big buttery Italian meals and Lemmon gets fat. As a comic strip artist, he takes out his frustration by making his alter-ego character marry a woman and then kill her. When Lisi sees this she flees, and Lemmon is accused of actually murdering his wife. There is a big courtroom scene that is unbelievably disturbing where he proposes every man be allowed to murder his wife. Scary.

Plotlines and hate language aside, the design of Lemmon’s apartment is fantastic. It’s hip and urban, with a touch of Billy Baldwin (the designer not actor) eclecticism. There is an all white modular kitchen, all black marble bathroom, modern art mixed with Victorian lamps, a brass bed that is a piece of sculpture, and Fornasetti screen bathroom doors. The core by Neal Hefti (of The Odd Couple, and 1966 Batman fame) is sublime. And then, there is Virna Lisi. Let me just say this, “Un#%*!ing beautiful!”

Share This Story

Where the Boys Are, poster, 1960

Where the Boys Are, title, 1960

Where the Boys Are, Dolores Hart and George Hamilton, 1960

When you are old, you take for granted that others know what you are discussing. This is, of course, not correct. When I make a joke in the office about Gidget and get blank stares, I know I’ve crossed that line. Last week, I recapped the entire plot of the movie Where the Boys Are after I found that nobody had seen it. I won’t go into depth here. It’s not an like the Bourne Identity with multiple plot twists and turns. A group of college coeds go to Fort Lauderdale for spring beak. They share a motel room. The see lots of half naked boys. They sit on the beach that is clearly in a sound stage. Paula Prentiss is the tall girl. She says, “Do you still find me strangely attractive?” This is a good line on any date. Connie Francis sings the theme song “Where the Boys Are.” George Hamilton is the super tan rich playboy. Yvette Mimieux is the naive youngest girl. There are good tips for clothing such as Jim Hutton’s very cool straw hat.

The one plot twist that made no sense to me was Yvette Mimieux’s bad date. She goes out one night with a boy we know is not chivalrous. I think he has sex with her, but he may have just tried kissing her. The film is rather vague here. Nothing violent has occurred. Something has happened, however. The episode leaves Mimieux in a hospital bed catatonic. We are left to imagine that her date is so bad or remarkable at love-making that she is left senseless. Or she has a horrible secret, such as disgusting full body Wolverine scars, that are discovered and that leaves her senseless. Or she has had plain old teenage sex.

The activities are unclear, but the message to all young people is clear: if you are a woman and have relations with a boy you will end up catatonic in a hospital. If you are a boy who has relations with a young lady you will be forced to flee town in shame after she becomes catatonic. For any teens reading this post, I assure you, this is true.

Share This Story