ICE COLD IN ALEX (1958)

Captain Ansen (John Mills) and cohorts ponder the most hard-won cold brews ever.

I'm not all that keen on war movies as a genre, but when Garth Ennis recommends a particular film as one of the all-time best of its kind I feel inclined to give it a look. The film in question is the 1958 adaptation of Christopher Landon's chronicle of some of his experiences in World War II, ICE COLD IN ALEX, and I'm surprised to say that it comes from out of nowhere to establish itself as my favorite war movie.

The story is a model of simplicity: when the British base at Tobruk falls under siege by German forces, the personnel must evacuate and an ambulance (dubbed "Katy" by its original driver) driven by combat-fatigued borderline alcoholic Captain Ansen (John Mills) must make its way to safety after becoming separated from its unit. Also on board for the journey are MSM Tom Pugh (Harry Andrews), a pair of nurses (Sylvia Syms and Diane Clare) and an Afrikaans and German-speaking South African captain (Anthony Quayle) whom they find along the way. The direct route to their destination, Alexandria, is inaccessible since the bridge leading to it was demolished, so the ambulance must traverse a perilous course across over six-hundred miles of desert, where the characters must contend with heavily-armed Nazi patrols, treacherous mine fields, blistering heat, dwindling rations, fraying nerves and the suspicion that one of them may be a Nazi spy (gee, guess which one). When a bullet claims the life of one of the Brits, Ansen swears off drinking until they arrive safely in "Alex" and belly up to a bar that he knows that serves lager in glasses so cold that you can carve the ice off the surface with your fingernail. So, basically, the guy focuses on a beer as his motivator. There have been times when I could totally relate to that, and when you see what these characters go through you'll need a tall, frosty one yourself, especially after the episodes involving traversing a minefield and getting the overheating ambulance over a steep sand dune. That may not sound like much, but I swear you'll see what I mean.

What makes this movie so enjoyable to me is that it's a WWII flick totally devoid of the jingoistic action figure stereotypes that I so utterly loathe in many films of the genre, and is instead about a group of human beings that the viewer can relate to and root for whether you're into the whole war movie thing or not. Theirs is a journey through a crucible in which, for better or worse, the human spirit and will are tested to their utmost, and even the enemy are portrayed as people who happen to be soldiers and not just a bunch of stock goosestepping drones. And the Nazi spy proves to be not only sympathetic but also quite heroic, contributing hugely to helping in the mutual goal of crossing the desert and reaching Alexandria alive.

Everything about this film works and treats the viewer with intelligence, so I urge you to see it if you get the opportunity. It's not available on DVD in the States, but it is easily obtainable for those of you who wisely invested in an all-regions DVD player. TRUST YER BUNCHE and seek out this absolute classic.

MALENA (2000)

Monica Bellucci, as the beautiful and justly-melancholy Malèna Scordia, ignites the fancies of young Sicilian lads in WWII Italy.

NOTE: in a strange bit of serendipitous timing, this review of an Italian movie finds itself being posted on Columbus Day. Fuhgeddaboudit!

I love Italian women. I don't know where that fascination comes from, but I wear my appreciation on my sleeve and appreciate few of the Babes from the Boot the way I do Monica Bellucci. Just say it with me: Mon-ih-kuh Bail-oo-chee. It's a name that brings one's lips and tongue into full, sensual play and is a pleasure to speak, a name utterly befitting of one of, in my own humble opinion, the most beautiful women on this planet. A model turned thesp, Bellucci enthralls me to the point of Yer Bunche being willing to sit through two hours of her reciting the ingredients and nutritional information of side of a box of instant mashed potatoes, so it's a good thing that she sets her sights on projects of loftier content. Sure she was in those lousy sequels to THE MATRIX and the painfully mediocre BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA (1992), but I won't hold that against her as long as she keeps making decent slice-of-life melodramas and the occasional bit of silliness like SHOOT 'EM UP (2007).

Director Giuseppe Tornatore, the visionary behind the incredible CINEMA PARADISO, crafted MALENA as a coming of age tale set in Sicily that covers the period of Italy's involvement in WWII and follows 12-year-old Renato Amoroso (Giuseppe Sulfaro) as the percolating hormones of puberty hit him and his equally horny cronies like a sledge hammer. The object of their adolescent yearnings is Malèna Scordia (Monica Bellucci), their incredibly hot new Latin teacher who has just moved to their town with her husband, but when Italy enters the war her spouse leaves for service in the army. Now alone, Malèna endures the leers of the town's men and the not-so-quiet jealous whispers of the women, as well as the sleazy rumors and imaginings of both groups while Renato and his pals follow her around like a pack of hungry puppies. But while nearly every other male in town lusts after Malèna in various degrading ways, Renato's spying upon her reveals the sad and lonely truth behind the goddesslike beauty and lends him a unique perspective on her silent suffering. As the war progresses Malèna receives word that her husband has been killed in battle and her fortunes take a turn for the worse as the town's imaginings about her escalate, eventually resulting in her father (an ageing teacher at the local school) receiving a letter that paints her as a disgraceful slut who has slept with most of the town's men, after which he more or less disowns her. Her father is subsequently killed in a bombing raid and when her money runs out Malèna must become a whore in order to survive, bringing the town's imaginings to stark life. When the Germans arrive, Malèna dyes her hair blonde and begins servicing them, but throughout this spiraling cycle of misery Renato remains her most ardent admirer and worships her from afar, being the only witness to the truth of her existence and secretly avenging her abuse in small ways like pissing into the purse of a vicious gossip or spitting into the drink of a braggart at a men's club.

Renato's love for Malèna goes unexpressed, but some of his fantasies of her are seen in humorous bits that reflect his love of the movies, casting himself and Malèna in the romantic leads in his mind's eye, and when not thinking cinematically he pictures her in seductive situations and clad in sexy outfits or simply nothing at all. His horniness soon boils over into chronic masturbation and leads to some very funny sequences involving his family's horror at his behavior, culminating in his father's no nonsense declaration that his son "needs to fuck." Choosing the obvious solution to this problem, Renato's dad takes him to lose his virginity at a local whorehouse where the lad imagines his first woman to be his adored Malèna. As Renato becomes more of man with each passing day, Malèna's situation worsens and his role as her guardian angel takes a major turn when...

I'd better stop there.

This is not a "great" work of cinema by any means (some critics have even called it "slight"), but it struck a chord in me while watching it and reminded me of the painful years of early adolescence and the sheer frustration thereof with surprising clarity. While Malèna would seem to be the main focus of the story (and the marketing), her suffering and position as an earthily beautiful focus of desire serve to give Renato a sense of purpose that evolves into a clumsy form of the most sincere chivalry, and the viewer learns to love the boy for it. In short, I picked it up so I could sate my Bellucci cravings and ended up with a surprisingly realistic boy-lusts-after-older-woman story that allows the boy's yearnings for his madonna to go unfulfilled. Similar territory has been mined many times previous to MALENA, most notably in the American film SUMMER OF '42 (1971), but what lifts MALENA into the "better than average" category is a solid script, Tornatore's directorial eye and the excellent performance of Giuseppe Sulfaro as Renato. I was totally invested in his story, and thanks to his perspective Malèna's story become compelling and not just a collection of war widow "weepie" clichés. But in comparison with Renato, Malèna herself is less of a character than a lovely walking plot motivator; sure, we care for her as we witness her various struggles, but her real purpose is to be that unattainable goddess who arouses the first feelings of manhood in a callow youth, and Bellucci conveys this quite well in a role that is largely silent. It's Renato's show, so keep that in mind when checking this one out, fellow Bellucci worshippers.

My only real complaint about MALENA comes from knowledge gained after seeing it: the American version of the film heavily trims material deemed too the graphic nature of some scenes involving Renato's fantasies about having sex with Malèna, including the scene in the whorehouse that was apparently much more, er, interesting.

One of the sequences cruelly trimmed by those assholes at the MPAA.

Maybe there was some ludicrous concern that the scenes in question skirted dangerously close to "kiddie porn," which, judging from the rest of the movie, they wouldn't have been. The squeamish MPAA called for similar trimming of Luc Besson's excellent 1994 action masterpiece LEON (released here as THE PROFESSIONAL) involving the twelve-year-old Natalie Portman telling Jean Reneau in no certain terms of her intent to seduce him. That sequence was admittedly a bit disturbing, but that film was dealing with rather disturbing material in the first place so it was not inappropriate in the least, plus there was no trace of nudity and Reneau's character set her straight that it wasn't gonna happen (he'd developed a paternal relationship with the orphaned girl), so I guess the MPAA has issues with such stuff, even when handled tastefully, as was the case in MALENA. Buncha pussies.

URGH! A MUSIC WAR RETURNS TO THE (RELATIVELY) BIG SCREEN!!!

A few weeks ago I was over the moon because I finally had the opportunity to see one of the screen’s most spectacular achievements, BEN-HUR, projected on the big screen, but that event pales in comparison to an upcoming screening that I never, ever imagined I would witness. Still unavailable on non-bootleg DVD, 1981’s cult classic international concert documentary URGH! A MUSIC WAR is getting a rarer-than-tits-on-a-trout screening at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on November 29th, and if I have my way I’ll be dragging as many of my friends as possible. To those of us who came of age in the early 1980’s and had a taste for the results of the tail end of the punk rock movement and the early fruits of “new wave” music, URGH! A MUSIC WAR was kind of our generation’s answer to WOODSTOCK. A bizarre, somewhat obnoxious, gaudily colored answer that made one forget whatever the fuck the initial question was.

Clocking in at a very packed two hours, URGH! was the ultimate punk/new wave sampler film, highlighting some 32 bands, several of whom would later go on to achieve lasting fame. Using the pre-“Ghost In The Machine” Police as the “name” draw, the film quickly makes the viewer forget all about Sting and friends as it rolls out a cornucopia of bands that would make the uninitiated stop dead in their tracks and ask a heartfelt “What the fuck was that?” Since punk never really caught on as such in the States much of what was on display in the film was quite a shock, both musically and visually, and with the exception of a couple of performances the whole package is simply riveting.

The Police’s “Driven To Tears” sets the stage and then the film jumps all over the globe, taking the audience to venues ranging from huge stadiums to small, grimy clubs, and while the whole film is certainly worth your time, the following — in no particular order — are the performances that made me a rabid fan of this film for life:

"Back In Flesh"-Wall of Voodoo

If you thought their 1982 hit "Mexican Radio" was weirder than pistachio-flavored bat shit, then you are in no way ready to handle "Back In Flesh," a tune that sounds like a Devo cast-off. It's like something you'd hear if David Lynch had opted against filmmaking and had become the late night programming director of an independent radio station.

“Enola Gay”-Orchestral Maneouvres In the Dark

The most simultaneously fey and powerful song about nuclear horror ever, this isn't quite as good as the studio version but it's definitely engaging.

"I’m on Fire"-Chelsea

A buzzsaw blast of distinctly British punk at its best, and a vast improvement over the studio version of this tune. The singer, Gene October, seems so tightly wound that you half expect him to attack the audience without warning, diving into the crowd feet-first and wielding the mic stand like a Claymore.

"Ain’t This the Life"-Oingo Boingo

Electrifying proof of just how energetic and tight this band was when performing live, with the delightful added bonus of front man Danny Elfman — yes, that Danny Elfman — looking like the bastard son of the Joker.

"The Puppet"-Echo & the Bunnymen

Nasal as hell and featuring a terrific beat, how can you not like a song with the lyric “I practice my fall ‘cause practice makes perfect?”

"Foolish I Know"-Jools Holland

Squeeze’s keyboard jock, busting loose with a solo old-fashioned ditty that offers a complete one-eighty from the rest of the film’s musical stylings.

"Respectable Street"-XTC

One of this band’s finest songs, rendered with Andy Partridge’s customary nervous edge. The bouncy beat attached to this tale of nosy and snooty neighbors will have you fighting hard to stay in your seat rather than getting up and dancing like you're baked out of your mind (a state of mind I recommend for this film, BTW).

“Valium”-Invisible Sex

By far the goofiest act in the film — although there is a good case to be made for the Surf Punks — this cadre of silver-jumpsuited and bemasked loons caper about the stage wielding guitars crafted from what appears to be brown construction paper. Obscure beyond belief, I have never found mention of this group anywhere other than in conjunction with this documentary.

"Total Eclipse"-Klaus Nomi

Hands down the single most bizarre thing in the entire movie, this bit may be the moment when I realized I was watching a classic. Klaus Nomi was a weird little German dude who sang shattering classically-trained falsetto arias applied to old standards, and his music fell into the new wave classification by default because it was simply impossible to pigeonhole anywhere else. Resembling a middle-aged Astro Boy decked out in an angular plastic tuxedo, Nomi will leave your jaw on the ground with his sheer "what the fuck?"-ness. One of the first entertainers to perish from the scythe of AIDS, Nomi's death was a tragic waste of a true original, and his story is eloquently told in the excellent documentary THE NOMI SONG (2004).

"Where’s Captain Kirk?"-Athletico Spizz 80

This energetic ode to STAR TREK and the Enterprise crew is a shitload of fun, plus it teaches us the possibilities of Silly String as an offensive weapon.

"We Got the Beat"-The Go-Go’s

The most rockin' version of this song that you'll ever hear, this performance comes in about a year before the band's first album, "Beauty and the Beat," was released and gives us the sight of a far more punky and chunky Belinda Carlisle than the dangerously thin, well-groomed cover girl of the years that followed.

"Bleed for Me"-Dead Kennedys

From the days before their sense of humor sort of overtook their uncomfortable and in-your-face early efforts, this terrifying description of third world torture and murder is ominous and scary as hell, reminding one of just why this most intelligent of American punk bands was once considered dangerous by the U.S. government and unfairly expunged during a bullshit distribution of pornography charge.

"Bad Reputation"-Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

The definitive performance of the pre-"I Love Rock 'N' Roll" classic, with a young and chunky Joan belting it out for all she was worth, which was a lot.

"Model Worker"-Magazine

One of my favorite songs during my third year of college — aka the year when I spent as much time as possible doing bonghits and O.D.ing on untranslated Japanese cartoons — this is a terrific tune that actually features a lyric in which the word "hegemony" is not awkward in the least. You've got to give any song that can accomplish that feat extra points, and former Buzzcock Howard Devoto's vocals are far better than one could hope for in the punk arena of the time.

"Tear It Up"-The Cramps

Coming in at number two on my list of all-time favorite bands, the Cramps are not so much heard as they are experienced, and this performance captures their insane, no-frills psychobilly to great effect. Upon hearing this on the film's soundtrack back in 1981 I became a fan for life, later going on to buy all of their albums and see them live in concert more than any other group (up to the time of this writing, that is). This cover of Johnny Burnette's rockabilly classic must be seen to be believed, and you will stare in mesmerized anticipation as you wonder whether singer Lux Interior's dick will flop out of his way-too-tight pants. Guitarist Poison Ivy, the other mainstay throughout the band's many lineup changes, is also on hand, providing her ultra-sexy trademark disdainful sneer.

"Uncontrollable Urge"-Devo

Most people think I'm crazy when they find out Devo's my favorite band of all time, but I let those people slide because the only Devo the average listener has heard is stuff like "Whipit" and "Beautiful World," both of which are a lot more airplay/MTV accessible than the real meat of their edgy and once-unique work. This performance of "Uncontrollable Urge" is from just before the Akron spudboys hit it big, and it totally kicks ass. Friends of mine who hate Devo have seen this segment and unanimously agree it's excellent, and even hardcore Devo fans, including Yer Bunche, think this version blows away the one on the band's debut studio album. Thank the gods that this was captured for posterity!

"Nothing Means Nothing Anymore"-The Alley Cats

Working in the same territory as Vince Taylor & His Playboys' fifties classic "Brand New Cadillac" — better known to most rock fans via the Clash's excellent cover of it on "London Calling" — this guitar-driven tune gives off a real sense of foreboding. Too bad these guys didn't last long.

"Cheryl’s Going Home"-John Otway

One of the most anguished performances you'll ever see, this strange fusion of a rock tune and a spoken word/acted piece about a guy arriving too late at the train station to stop his girlfriend from leaving him is just plain great, and you will be riveted from the second Otway vocally explodes with "The thunder CRACKS against the night!"

"Homicide"-999

When I first saw this film and heard the opening lyric of "I believe...in homicide!" I nearly pissed myself while laughing my ass off. The tune rocks hard, but what makes this is the sheer energy emanating both from the band and the audience, and I defy you not to want to sing along.

"Beyond and Back"-X

One of the truly great Californian punk bands, X ruled for a million reasons, but you really have to give it up for their unique front woman, Exene Cervenka, a gal who simply did not give a flying fuck about appeasing audience members who expected women in rock groups to be sexy masturbation fantasies brought to life, or at the very least visually appealing (well, in the band's early days at least). Exene belts this one out with a yowl like a drunken, diseased cat and takes the stage with a hairdo so monumentally fucked-up that you'd swear she'd just boiled her own head. When all factors are weighed, her look comes off as a junkie version of the Wicked Witch of the West gene-spliced with Jayne County, only possessing an all-natural vagina (unlike Jayne).

"Sign of the Cross"-Skafish

The first album by Skafish was one of my favorites during high school for such lyrically biting and painful songs as "Joan Fan Club," "Disgracing the Family Name," "We'll See A Psychiatrist" and the excellent ode to unrequited love and the frustration thereof, "Obsessions of You," but nothing could have prepared me for the full-scale assault of lapsed Catholic absurdity that was "Sign of the Cross." Jim Skafish — my vote for the ugliest rock 'n' roll front man in history — stalks the stage, incense-burner merrily fuming, and exhorts the audience to join him in doing the "brand new dance craze" the Sign of the Cross, in which the dancer stands stiff as a board and holds out his arms in imitation of the crucified Jesus. Blasphemous as a motherfucker and funny as hell, this one's a real showstopper that's guaranteed to piss off the faithful in the audience.

“Two Little Boys”-Splodgenessabounds

A delightfully out of control cover of Rolf Harris' tale of childhood loyalty performed by the geniuses behind "Simon Templar" (a protest of Ian Ogilvy's portrayal of the Saint), "Blown Away Like A Fart In A Thunderstorm," "I've Got Lots Of Famous People Living Under the Floorboards," "Whiffy Smells," and the immortal "Michael Booth's Talking Bum."

There are a couple of quite good reggae numbers by UB40 and Steel Pulse and many more wacko bands, so I beg of you not to miss this ultra-rare screening at the Brooklyn Academy of Music on Saturday, November 29th. I'll post a reminder shortly before then, but mark the date on your calendars immediately!

NOTE: all images respectfully cribbed from the excellent "Official/Unofficial" URGH! fan site.