Christopher Lee, Prince of Darkness

This just in from the "prestigious" British newspaper, The Guardian:

Lord of the Rings star Christopher Lee has been awarded a prestigious BFI Fellowship. The presentation will be made on 19 October at Banqueting House, Whitehall, during the London film festival, the BFI's premier event.

The BFI Fellowship is an award given "to individuals in recognition of their outstanding contribution to film or television". 2012's honorees were actor Helena Bonham Carter and director Tim Burton. In 2011, writer-director David Cronenberg and actor-director Ralph Fiennes were recipients.

Wankers.

First of all, it's SIR Christopher Lee. Second of all...LORD OF THE RINGS star? He also "starred" in 1941. What was Dracula...a footnote?

I have great love for this icon of my youth. Obviously, since I wrote an ode to he, Sean Connery and Clint Eastwood in my book IN THE DARK entitled "The Good, the Bad and the Undead". Since Sir Christopher is receiving his award next week and Halloween is coming up, here is an excerpt from ITD all about the man, the fangs and the cape.

The heroes of my life were all killers.

Oh. I’m sorry. It appears that I’ve upset you. Let me assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. If your hackles have been raised since reading those words, you can go ahead and lower them now…slowly. Don’t make any sudden moves. For God’s sake, get that judgmental look off your face…It really disturbs me…

Aw, relax, would ya? It’s not as if I worshipped at the shrine of Charles Manson, traded baseball cards with The Boston Strangler or harbored a lifelong dream to open up the Ed Gein Culinary Academy.

Hardly.

My heroes were a dapper, debonair government assassin, a monosyllabic bounty hunter who brought ‘em in mostly dead not alive and a bloodsucking Lord of the Undead. To better identify them, you might recognize the names James Bond, The Man with No Name and Count Dracula.

In every one of his movies, the last member of my trifecta started out dead. Okay, okay…UN-dead. (Must we have this conversation? It’s all semantics anyway.) He was, of course, Dracula, the Vampire’s Vampire, embodied by the legendary Christopher Lee.

From the mid-fifties to the early seventies, Lee, along with Peter Cushing, was one of the main stars of Hammer Studios, England’s chief producer of horror films. It was there that Lee recreated a couple of Boris Karloff’s greatest roles, namely the Frankenstein Monster and the Mummy. However, it is the character most closely identified with Bela Lugosi that Lee found his fame as well. His interpretation of the Count was vastly and radically different from his predecessor’s. Physically, Lee was taller and certainly more athletic than Lugosi, so Dracula became more of a swashbuckler, albeit an evil swashbuckler. He would use his cape as an extension of his own body, flowing behind him as he strode away or would wrap it around his long frame like a black shroud. He tossed the Transylvanian accent out the window and instead utilized those stentorian tones of his with complete and absolute authority.

But, in my personal favorite of the Hammer/Dracula series and the first I had ever seen, DRACULA, PRINCE OF DARKNESS, Lee has no dialogue at all and it is extremely effective. Dracula is virtually silent during the course of the movie, save for the occasional scowling hiss that seemed to come from deep within where his soul used to be. Never before or since has Dracula been portrayed so frighteningly. This was raw, savage evil incarnate, a truly vicious demon from hell. Legend has it that Lee played it in this manner because his dialogue was so trite. It doesn’t matter to me because, as far as I’m concerned, it worked. It made such an impression on me that when Lee spoke in the follow-up film, DRACULA HAS RISEN FROM THE GRAVE, I remember being very disappointed in the change.

Lee had help from the Hammer makeup department that outfitted him with a great set of sharp fangs and, best of all, bloodshot contact lenses. He could have been a poster boy for Visine. He was also provided with another set that were solid red indicating that after a night’s feasting, this dude was full.

The movies themselves contributed greatly to his success in the character. Hammer pictures, while low budgeted, benefited from good to excellent production values. The acting was always decent, the stories fairly exciting and the bottom line was, for an assembly line, Hammer put out a very respectable and reliable product. Naturally, what really stirred my juices were the two ingredients I began to crave…good ol’ sex and violence.

My first memories of blood on the big screen, before then almost a taboo, were in Hammer films. These weren’t overdone splatter effects, but for that time, they didn’t hold back much either. A stake through the heart was no longer just hinted at, projected as a shadow on the wall or executed off camera. There it was in all of its gory glory. When the blood flowed in the resurrection scene of Dracula, Prince of Darkness,  director Terrence Fisher made it almost a character itself, perhaps the essence of all that is unholy.

The icing on my boyhood cake was that these Hammer pictures were so damn lusty which, along with the sexuality portrayed in the Bond pictures, meant I was doing A-OK for my age in the sexual awakening department. I was exposed, in both senses of the word, to many a bursting bodice and plunging peasant blouse that revealed enough cleavage to fill both sides of the screen. Several times too was that camera shot of the undraping of a lusciously voluptuous woman tuned away from the camera, revealing only her naked back that outlined her curvaceous female form, making my increasingly horny little mind believe that I had just seen everything!

Since Dracula is one of the great sex symbols of all time, Lee’s version of the Count fit right into this atmosphere.  You knew damn well this guy was getting a lot more action than the monkey bites he was doling out. It has been said that no one could resist the will of Dracula, but it always seemed that Lee’s victims wanted to give up more than their jugulars.

Christopher Lee will always be the perfect Dracula to me. Unfortunately, I feel like I’m betraying a fellow Hungarian by not giving Bela Lugosi his due, but that’s part of the problem I have with him. Bela always came across to me like a creepy uncle, the one the family didn’t talk about much.  Granted, Lee’s Dracula was more of a product of my era and I accept that. There was no getting around that overpowering presence of his when he donned the cape. Lee gave the world’s greatest vampire his unmistakable signature, the distinction of a great actor that makes him totally identifiable with a given character. As Dracula, he dominated the screen to the point of making all else in the film before, after or even during his screen time seem inconsequential, save for him.

 Lee had a bumpy road ahead of him once he left the cape behind. Fortunately, he was able to make a class A horror film, THE WICKER MAN, a sensational picture from director Robin Hardy and screenwriter Anthony Shaffer. From there, he continued on as a villain in a better grade of films like Richard Lester’s THE THREE and FOUR MUSKETEERS where he held his own against Oliver Reed, Charlton Heston and Faye Dunaway. A dream damn near came true for me when Lee played the James Bond villain in THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN, an unfortunately weak entry in the series. He managed to shine when the movie didn’t. But now, here he is over the age of ninety appearing in some of the biggest movies of recent times time, the Lord of the Rings trilogy (though Peter Jackson callously cut his scenes from the theatrical version of RETURN OF THE KING) and the Star Wars prequels , where George Lucas kept him for all three films even if he had the unfortunate name of Count Dooku. And Lee’s still working. That, my friends, is called longevity.

Once and forever, I live with the memories of these indelible images. Connery, Sean Connery is Bond, James Bond, saving the world once again from a maniacal madman before tumbling off to the sack with another spectacular babe. Clint Eastwood as the Man with No Name except Blondie takes a puff off his cheroot after drawing his six-shooter and blowing away a pack of ornery cowpokes with names like Umberto and Giuseppe. Finally, standing on the grand staircase of a cobweb ridden castle is a statuesque aristocrat with crimson eyes, an ebony cape and pointed ivory fangs that glisten in the light of the full moon, for he is Christopher Lee as Dracula, the Prince of Darkness…and it’s supper time…

Copyright 2009 by Scott Cherne

UPDATE 6/11/15: Today we learned that Sir Christopher Lee has passed away at the age of 93. If his movies have taught us anything, he shall return. Until he does, his legacy on screens large and small have made him immortal.

IN THE DARK: A LIFE AND TIME IN A MOVIE THEATER is celebrating its tenth anniversary this year. It can be found on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle versions. 

SCOTT CHERNEY'S AMAZON PAGE

2006-The Year in Pix

2006-The Year in Pix

I am not a film critic nor do I play one on TV. This is my outlet (and this is my gun), therefore the rules of engagement do not apply to me, meaning I don’t have to adhere to any timeline. That said, here is my list of favorite films that I saw in 2006. Whether they were released this year or not means nothing to me. It’s like the adage about an old joke. If you’ve never heard it before, it’s new to you.

The year 2006 was pretty much of a wash for me personally, but movie-wise, I basked in the glow of the Great God Cinema. The total of films came to 118. That’s basically a movie every three days, not counting those that I had seen again. Since I had made a conscientious effort not to watch as much crap as I had in years past, my film diet consisted of a lot more protein and less trans fat, so the percentage of good product versus bad weighed heavily in my favor.

Certainly there were disappointments, no more so than in two supposedly blockbusters that landed like a pair of bombastic farts at a funeral. Peter Jackson’s King Kong seemed so calculated to be a companion piece to a video game that it became difficult to tell the two apart, a botch job unworthy of the Lord of the Rings master. But nothing really stunk up the joint more than Bryan Singer’s lame-ass Superman Returns, a turd barely better than Superman III or IV, only by the nature of its budget.

On the other hand, the reboot of the Bond series with Casino Royale was a welcome breath of fresh air, thanks to both director Martin Campbell and star Daniel Craig. Seeing Craig swagger about like a royal prick seemed rather off-putting at first until it came clear that he could back it all up in spades, He reminded me of the young Errol Flynn’s first appearance in  The Adventures of Robin Hood, entering a castle with a dead buck around his neck and acting like he owned the place (which of course, he did). Anyway, a worthy new beginning for Bond, James Bond. By the way, when was the last time you ever saw a Bond movie appear on a Ten Best list? Check it out. Royale appeared on many, including Owen Gleiberman’s film of the year in Entertainment Weekly.

One particularly putrid piece of work was Maniac, quite possibly the worst film ever made. Directed by Dwain Esper, the only guy who could make Ed Wood look like Antonioni, this 1930s exploitationer about untreated mental illness combined a couple of Poe stories with some gratuitous nudity and violence, including a duel with hypodermic needles. The cast is so supremely wretched that they seem to have not only never seen a movie before, but also have never seen anyone act either. It was like watching a dog try to ride a bicycle. Oh, by the way, I recommend this to anyone interested in really shitty cinema.

A few notable moments from this year’s crop:
The My Forgotten Man number from The Golddiggers of 1933-An ode to the homeless in the Great Depression that holds up even today. Not much has changed since then.

Hammy the Squirrel’s caffeine induced slow motion sojourn in Over the Hedge, the funniest sequence of the year.

Wildest Ride of the Year: Night Watch, the wild and crazy Russian vampire romp

Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, a film I had been trying to catch up with for years now. Truth to be told, I consider Blanche DuBois to be one of the most irritating characters in modern literature, as well as with Vivien Leigh’s performance and felt uncomfortable most of the time Brando was not on screen. But once he was, I was hooked. Talk about living up to one’s reputation. I was also taken by Kim Hunter as “STELLA!!!!!!!!!!!”

Some movies that exceeded expectations:
Walk the Line (particularly Joaquin Phoenix), Tokyo Godfathers,The Bourne Supremacy, The Alamo(2004), Cars, George Romero’s Land of the Dead, Millions

Some great revisits:
Car Wash, Which Way is Up? (Richard Pryor’s funniest), Topaz (underrated Hitchcock), Brewster McCloud (overlooked Altman), The Hill (one of Sean Connery’s best), Lantana (one of the best films of last ten years), The Paper Chase, Casino Royale (1967) -a guilty pleasure to the Nth degree

Now the bestests:

Best Oldies:
Yojimbo,
Captain Blood,
Diabolique,
Pather Panchali,
Hitchcock double bill of Notorious and Shadow of a Doubt
Fellinii’s 8 ½
Melville’s Army of Shadows and Le Cercle Rouge
Lola Montes
 All Quiet on the Western Front –Again, a timeless message that still resonates.

The Ten Best (in no order except #1)

Altman’s A Prairie Home Companion-a fitting swan song to a class act
Brewer's Hustle and Flow- Terrence Howard elevates himself to the rank of one this country’s finest and, though damn near done in right at the very end, this film is hard to beat.
Miyazaki’s Howl’s Moving Castle-The animation genius of the modern age
Ki-Duk Kim's 3-Iron-Best love story of the year
Carol Reed and Graham Green’s The Fallen Idol –Uncovered jewel and finest classic of the year, so perfect to view it on the big screen
James Marsh’s extraordinary Wisconsin Death Trip-Best documentary of the year and possibly of all time
Chan-Wook’s Old Boy-the incredible brutal roller coaster experience
Scorsese’s The Departed-Marty, this is your year. Revel in it.

and the Best Picture of 2006

Paul Greengrass’ United 93
Not to get all PC about it, but there is no way I could ignore the impact of this incredible piece of filmmaking. I resisted this for the longest time, being one of those who believed 9/11 was too close, too open of a sore, too painful to relive, especially since the word on the street was how realistic the film is. After much hesitation, I watched it at home, wanting privacy and not a shared emotional experience as I would in the theater. Well, let’s just say, I was a wreck by the end credits. But it had been totally cathartic and extremely therapeutic. Many suppressed and dormant feelings have resurfaced since that viewing and while that’s a helluva thing to lay on just a damn movie, this what I’ve taken away from it. I really don’t want to be known as one of those idiots who uses that day as a metaphor for everything that occurs, especially since it has become both a cliché and an excuse for more self-indulgent pinheads than I can fathom. Perhaps if I didn’t have all this bottled inside me, I wouldn’t so introspective about the film. However, I will say unequivocally that Paul Greengrass is a remarkable filmmaker. There's an honesty that he brings to United 93 that makes this story compeling from first frame to last. His documentary approach to this and The Bourne Supremacy has energized recent cinema and I certainly look forward to any work by this director.

So there you have it. Stay tuned for 2007…

FILMAPALOOZA!

Have a nice life.

KONG-founded

Each year I give myself the birthday present of attending a movie in an honest to God cinema. For three years in a row, it was Peter Jackson’s adaptation of THE LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy. This year, I reserved this special for Jackson’s remake of KING KONG. I must say that I wasn’t very moving. Well, not moving in the figurative sense. Literally, I did squirm.

After all the deserved awards and acclaim Jackson received for his triumphant Middle Earth saga, he decided to revive, KING KONG, his pet project. This re-imagining (as it’s now called) of the classic film inspired him to be a filmmaker in the first place. For something that has been burning in his soul for so long, how could Jackson have treated the whole thing so ham-handedly? The whole enterprise is one big bloated, overblown mess. It is clearly a half hour too long, if that little. The “new” characters and makeover of the originals are so bland that Jackson doesn’t seem to care for them himself. Bruce Baxter, the male star of the movie within the movie, starts out as a jerk, then a coward, performs a heroic act, then reverts to cowardice again in the final reel with no pay-off. Jack Driscoll is now a playwright, a botch of an idea that never pans out. Driscoll should have been the Kyle Chandler character, the actor who was a coward off-screen until he becomes a hero on the island. As for Carl Denham, Jackson is even more clueless. By casting Jack Black, he could have been a lovable rascal but instead turns into a half-baked charmless creep that can’t sustain a whole picture with (again) no comeuppance. The allusions to Conrad’s HEART OF DARKNESS are ill-advised as well, thrown in for no other good reason than to perhaps show that Jackson has read something else besides Tolkien. Much has been praised for the hour long Skull Island sequence and its non-stop action. To me, it wasn’t so much relentless as it was endless, and not much more than an amped up JURASSIC PARK. The brontosaurus stampede was not only cheesy, but pointlessly absurd as well. The giant insects would have been enough without Jamie Bell stupidly shooting them off of Adrian Brody with a tommy gun. Nice grouping! The highlight of the action scenes, Kong’s triple threat match with three T-Rexs, also drug on far too long. Everything had been put together with gaming in mind and that non-stop action is fine in that context, but it’s bad filmmaking and I grow weary of it all. Can’t someone just make a fucking movie anymore?

However, what is good about Jackson’s KING KONG is great, especially when he concentrates on his two lead characters. Naomi Watts is quite wonderful as Ann Darrow, the only character who is fleshed out satisfactorily. She is luminescent and her sincerity carries whatever scene she’s in. As far the star of the show, he is the reason Jackson made this damn movie in the first place. The big boy is stellar, a balls out action hero of the first order. Andy Serkis and the CGI team transform him into a star for the ages. One can’t help but cheer for the big lug whenever he gets his dander up, especially fighting back against the biplanes that eventually do him in. The love story at the core of this Beauty and the Beast tale cuts through all the fat and blubber that surrounds this three-hour supposed epic and almost makes the whole experience worthwhile.

The outcome is that this is not as cheesy as the 1976 version nor is it anywhere as horrific as its sequel KING KONG LIVES. Anyone remember this jewel from the eighties with Linda Hamilton where Kong gets an artificial heart? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? This is simply the second best KING KONG. Sorry to be a purist. The original rules.

As for Peter Jackson, well, I hope he starts to scale it down a little. I think I’ll get my wish for his next project, an adaptation of THE LOVELY BONES. After this blockbuster decade of his, I’d really like to see him pull back, regroup and perhaps get back to basics. I prefer to continue admiring the work of the man who made HEAVENLY CREATURES. I don’t need another George Lucas in the making. But with the release of this film, along with the concurrently released "Peter Jackson Production Diary DVD set" and the goddamn video game with his name above the title, perhaps he's taken a turn for the worse.

Instead of becoming George Lucas or even Steven Spielberg, maybe Peter Jackson, with his newly acquired, King Kong sized ego, might have tragically reinvented himself as Carl Denham himself.

Monkey see. Monkey do.