Showing posts with label British Invasion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label British Invasion. Show all posts

Friday, August 7, 2015

Cult Movie Project #17 (of 200) :: Brighton Calling: The Rockin' Hot-Mod Rumble of Franc Roddam's Quadrophenia (1979)


A mash-up of Quadrophonic and Schizophrenia, although a righteous title, I do wonder if a more proper name for Quadrophenia (1979) might be Dichotomy as the film focuses on the sound and the insanity of a certain segment of 1960s British youth culture, specifically a certain Mod named Jimmy Cooper (Daniels), trying so hard to be different by striving to conform.


Now, I probably need to back up and give a brief history lesson on the conflict between the Mods and the Rockers (-- think Sharks and Jets or The Beachniks and Eric Von Zipper), which serves as a focal point for both the movie and the rock opera on which it was based:


Both rebellious subcultures can be traced back to the Teddy Boy movement of the 1950s, glued together by disillusionment, vintage dress and rock 'n' roll. The Rockers stayed more grounded in the '50s, decked in leather and greased-up pompadours, clinging to the rockabilly of Elvis Presley and Gene Vincent, herded around on motorcycles, and, like their equally hard-drinking American biker-gang counterparts, had no desire to be sober or to work -- or bathe. The new Mods, on the other hand, were clean-cut and fashionable to a fetishistic fault; they had jobs, embraced the newer, domestic music of The Rolling Stones and The Kinks, and subscribed to a better living through chemistry, with amphetamines and diet pills being the drugs of choice.


And like with all evolution, there was resistance to change by what came before, which was equally met by an extinction-level attempt to stomp out the old to make way for the new. And then this simmering animosity reached an epoch in the spring of 1964, when massive riots broke out over a banker's holiday weekend in several coastal cities (Hastings, Margate, Clacton and Brighton) as the rival factions clashed with the public and the police caught in the middle. And as what came to be known as The Second Battle of Hastings became a national disgrace, a 'moral panic' erupted against everyone under 30, causing a backlash against both movements.


Forged over this volatile atmosphere, it was around this time that Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend, John Entwistle, and Keith Moon formed The Who. Eight years later in 1972, "Quadrophenia", inspired by the very same Mod movement and the riots in Brighton, was released as their follow-up concept album to "Tommy." And ironically enough, the film version was also an answer to the film adaptation of Tommy. Not happy with Ken Russell's visual lunacy on the former, the band, who all served as producers for Quadrophenia, wanted the follow up film to be more grounded and less concerned with international appeal. Thus, with their blessing, first time director Franc Roddam pushed the album to the background, using it as an ersatz balladeer as Jimmy's tale progresses.


A full-blown zealot when it comes to the Mod way of life, this causes even more friction in his already highly dysfunctional home-life and dead-end job. On top of all the pill-popping, felonious theft, assaults, and scooter-cruising, our boy is also rabidly pursuing a girl, Steph (Ash), causing an already mercurial Jimmy to be even more violent and self-destructive in an attempt to impress her. But in this blind pursuit, his brash acts mostly result in a kind of self-sabotage that alienates him from everyone -- even his fellow mods. It's also setting himself up for a mighty big fall from a startling reality check. For what starts as a celebration of this lifestyle and an escape from reality in the form of a quest for some sense of identity, a sense of one’s own self, it slowly morphs into a fairly scathing indictment on the folly of such pursuits.


Daniels is amazing in the lead role; a flailing frenzy of raging hormones, contradictions (all the scenes with his old mate, a Rocker, are just heartbreaking), and no inhibitions. And if I have one beef, but it's a minor one, I wish the other characters in his orbit were given a little bit more room to breathe and achieve his level. They're good. But they could've been great. The only one who comes close is Sting as the ultimate mod, Ace, who Jimmy both idolizes and reviles as he moves in on his equally infatuated girl. All of this, then, really reaches a climax for Jimmy (and the audience) during those riots, when the police arrive and Jimmy and Steph find refuge in an isolated alley, where a combination of excitement and adrenaline finds them having sex against a brick-wall as the city is trashed around them. A truly remarkable scene; a pure fusion of visuals and soundtrack. The film has several of these moments, actually; all just as equally amazing.


But in the aftermath of this triumph, Jimmy loses everything: the girl (their brief affair was just a giggle, she says), his freedom (he gets arrested), his friends, his job, his home, and his beloved scooter. But the true breaking point comes when a completely drug-addled Jimmy returns to Brighton to try and re-light the fire, so to speak, only to find he's been worshiping a false idol all along. Now completely lost, with no identity left, Jimmy steals Ace the bell-boy's scooter and races it suicidally close to the cliffs of Dover, with The Who's "Love Reign O'er Me" pulsing right along with him. Truly amazing.


I honestly thought Jimmy pulled a Thelma and Louise there at the end and it took three rewinds to see what really happened. And honestly, I'm still not sure. Needless to say, the Vespa didn't make it. As for Jimmy? Well, it's kind of ambiguous and I'll leave it that. I also cannot recommend this film enough. Aside from The Who, the rest of the soundtrack is just as amazing. Injecting it all into the film, alchemist Roddam achieves a true sense of vérité, capturing a time and place, and giving the audience a sense of full immersion into this world of alienation, sex, violence, and rock 'n' roll.
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“Roddam had done a remarkable job recreating the world of the Mods and Rockers; dark, wet London streets, empty but for the herds of Mods on Italian scooters or Rockers on heavy cycles thundering past in search of a rumble; dingy, sweat-filled clubs, where the local bands further turn on horny pill-popping dancers with loud, throbbing music; greasy diners; pinball joints; back alleys; dance halls; the outskirts of towns where lookalike house stand in a sorry line; Brighton, a breath of fresh air, the only sunlight. And everywhere you go is music – driving, liberating music.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXX-- Danny Peary
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The Fine Print: Quadrophenia was watched via Hulu's streaming package. Watched as a Teenage Rampage double-feature with Walter Hill's The Warriors (1979). What's the Cult Movie Project? That's 17 down, with 183 to go.


Quadrophenia (1979) The Who Films :: Polytel :: World Northal / EP: Roger Daltrey, John Entwistle, Keith Moon, John Peverall, David Gideon Thomson, Pete Townshend / P: Roy Baird, Bill Curbishley / D: Franc Roddam / W: Dave Humphries, Martin Stellman, Franc Roddam, Pete Townshend / C: Brian Tufano / E: Sean Barton, Mike Taylor / M: Mike Shaw / S: Phil Daniels, Leslie Ash, Philip Davis, Mark Wingett, Toyah Willcox, Sting

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

On the Big Screen :: A Night at the Movies :: Richard Lester's A Hard Day's Night (1964)


I get The Beatles. I just don't GET The Beatles. Don't get me wrong. I don't dislike them. Again, I totally get it. As musicians, they're top notch; their music, hideously infectious. As a social phenomenon, they have few peers. But as cultural touchstones, they've always left me kinda cold. However, as a die-hard, pompadour'd, fried peanut-butter 'n' 'nanner sammich bogarting Presleyterian, I can totally empathize with this kinda psychosis and understand what it's like to be worshipping at the table unable to explain exactly why you're there, with such ferocity, and tenacity, to those who are not.


Looking back, Richard Lester's A Hard Day's Night (1964) is kind of a watermark for me in that everything about The Beatles that came before the movie -- from Liverpool, to Hamburg, to The Ed Sullivan Show -- I find fascinating to the eye and righteous to the ear as my feet stomp and tap along. But everything after that, well, you kinda lost me.


I had never seen A Hard Day's Night before -- or any Fab Four movie, for that matter. (Unless you wanna count Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band but, yeah, no. No. No. No. No.) Thus, when it was announced there would be a weekend screening at the Grand, my burgh's beautifully restored show palace, which usually only serves as a second-run showcase, I decided to get my butt into the theater in a show of support for future revival screenings of this nature. Also, I cannot deny my own curiosity to immerse myself in a phenomenon that had, somehow, failed to take root.


Glad I did, too, as the film proved just as insidiously infectious as their music. Lester, whose career began making TV commercials, brings an intimate, small screen approach to his subject matter, using a faux documentary angle to showcase a 24-hour cycle in the life of our quartet; the main thrust of which is keeping tabs, reining in, and herding the ever errant group toward the rehearsals and eventual broadcast of some ersatz musical variety show. And as our boys run amok, it easily brings to mind the absurdist anarchy of the Marx Brothers and the slapstick of Max Sennett. There's also touches of Busby Berkeley and the French New Wave both visually and in the execution of the vignettes. All of these disparate ingredients make for one tasty stew.


Apparently, United Artists gave Lester and screenwriter, Alun Owen, a free hand to do whatever they felt like. Truth told, the studio was much more interested in a legal loophole that allowed them to do an end-run on Capitol Records and release a soundtrack album, hoping to cash-in on Beatlemania before it sputtered out. And so, they just needed something, anything, to release into theaters. That they wound up with a box-office and critical smash is just one of those serendipitous amalgamations of circumstances that by all rights should have ended in disaster. Only it didn't.


As actors, John, Paul, George and Ringo do just fine. John and Ringo shine the most, especially Ringo. George might've come off better if I could've understood more of what he'd said. (I usually have pretty good luck with accents but I was totally befuddled on this front.) Each was given their own personal interlude, except for Paul, who was too busy dealing with the added comedy relief of his "grandfather". Props to Wilfrid Brambell, who acquits himself quite well as the devious old coot, who enhanced the plot instead of laming things up. And while it wasn't the hardest I'd laughed at the cinema this last weekend ( -- no, that involved a sentient tree and a talking raccoon), when he pops up through the stage floor during the final concert made me giggle pretty good. Also, kudos to Victor Spinetti as the overwrought, gloom 'n' doom director in charge of the upcoming televised performance.


While the chaos pops and thunders around them, most of their own making, but not all, I found it interesting how the movie really calms down during the musical interludes. I like how the whole band visibly relaxes in front of the camera when they take up their instruments and just melt into their songs (or into the background at the club scene); kind of like the eye of a storm, a refuge, against the hurricane of Beatlemania.


I've stated before about the apparent birth defect that finds me preferring the Tottenham Stomp over the Mersey Beat, and the Dave Clark Five over the Beatles. Doing the math, maybe it was because my folks were too old and my siblings too young when the Beatles invaded. Perhaps things might've been different without this lack of exposure. I know my mother's Elvis records and my father's Venture's LPs had a huge influence on me and the only relevant album we had was Chet Atkins Picks on The Beatles (-- which, for the record, was kinda awesome), so, there ya go. 


Speaking of math, I had to double-check mine when I sussed out this screening also marked A Hard Day's Night 50th Anniversary. That's right. 50th. This, doesn't seem possible. Then again, Star Wars is almost ready for it's 40th. GAH! Anyhoo...


Personally, I also think A Hard Day's Night marked a turning point for the Beatles, as well. I wouldn't call it the beginning of the end but the cracks were already there and starting to show. (Don't believe me? Just ask Pete Best.) And as things moved forward and the 1960s progressed, the line between counter-cultural messiahs and insufferable twats blurred to the point where I could no longer make a distinction. And while A Hard Day's Night did little to remedy this notion, it certainly didn't make it any worse. On the contrary, it reinforced what I loved about the group all along: the music, and a certain moment in history when that music changed the world. Even I get that.


A Hard Days Night (1964) Proscenium Films :: Walter Shenson Films :: United Artists / EP: David V. Picker / P: Walter Shenson / AP: Denis O'Dell / D: Richard Lester / W: Alun Owen / C: Gilbert Taylor / E: John Jympson / M: The Beatles / S: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Wilfrid Brambell, Victor Spinetti

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Movie Poster Spotlight :: The British are Coming! The British are Coming! :: A Mixed Set of Lobby Cards from Both Sides of the Pond for Frederic Goode's Pop Gear (1965)
















Fueled by the hideously infectious songs of the ongoing British Pop Invasion, producer Harry Field and director Frederic Goode cashed in with Pop Gear (released in the States as Go Go Mania by American International Pictures), a truly wonderful canned concert movie (-- meaning the acts wandered around some truly eye-popping pop-art sets, lip-synching and air-guitaring to their hearts content). Book-ended (rather clumsily) by two pilfered performances by The Beatles from another documentary, in-between Mod mad man Jimmy Savile introduced each act and one hit wonder who flew under Brian Epstein and Joe Meek's respective banners; some of whom you've probably heard of  (Hermann’s Hermits, Peter and Gordon, The Animals), others you should have (The Rocking Berries, The Nashville Teens, The Four Pennies), and a few who will wheedle into your eardrums and never leave again (The Honeycombs, Sounds Incorporated, The Fourmost). The only thing missing that would've made Pop Gear the perfect musical time capsule of the era is the absence of the Tottenham Stomp of the Dave Clark 5. Last check, the whole things was up and streaming on YouTube and it's well worth a spin.


Pop Gear (1965) Associated British-Pathé :: American International Pictures / P: Harry Field / D: Frederic Goode / W: Roger Dunton / C: Geoffrey Unsworth / E: Fredrick Ives / M: Joe Meek / S: Jimmy Savile, Billy J Kramer and the Dakotas, The Animals, The Fourmost, Peter and Gordon, Herman's Hermits, Tommy Quickly and the Remo Four, The Rockin' Berries, The Honeycombs, The Nashville Teens, The Four Pennies, Sounds Incorporated, Spencer Davis Group, Billie Davis, Matt Monro, Susan Maughan.
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