July 21: Jodorowsky’s Dune (2013 -- Frank Pavich)

★★★

Formally, Jodorowsky's Dune is a fairly conventional documentary.  It’s mostly a series of talking heads, though the animation from the detailed storyboards of the script certainly helps us get a modest feel for what the project might have looked like.  And though it’s hard to imagine another structure, the predictability of the film’s progress becomes somewhat boring.  We go from Alejandro Jodorowsky’s work before this project to a very long list of big-name people he got involved to a conclusion of the ripple effects of the project.  The form here isn’t what engages.

Instead, it’s the vision and audacity of Jodorowsky that keeps us in the film.  Jodorowsky was immersed in the cultural currents of the late 60s/early 70s.  From absurdist theater, we went on to make two wildly experimental films, and his Dune was to  be based on what he wanted to talk about – the expansion of consciousness – rather than the contents of Herbert’s work.  One of a couple of the self-referential aspects of this story shows how director Jodorowsky essentially became a prophet, like Paul of the novel, stimulating the disciples he recruited for the project to open their minds.  And we can note the ongoing effect of Jodorowsky's teaching in the subsequent careers of figures like HR Giger, Dan O’Bannon and Chris Foss.  Jodorowsky pulled these creative artists into film, and they all went on to make important contributions arising, in part, from the way Jodorowsky developed their talent.

There is a lot of Entertainment Tonight in the overlong middle section of the film as we hear funny stories about Jodorowsky’s encounter with Pink Floyd, Dalí, Jagger, David Carradine, and Welles.  But the range of Jodorowsky’s contacts, the countries he worked in, and the areas of 70s pop culture he mined are a fascinating look into that era and into some of the cultural trends at work.  Jodorowsky lived at the nexus of those trends at that time, and part of the pleasure of Jodorowsky's Dune is to participate in that moment.

This film also makes the worthwhile observation that Jodorowsky's version of Dune became seminal to an important part of future sci fi cinema.  Like Paul’s death in Dune leads to the fertilization of the entire planet of Dune, so did the failure of Jodorowsky’s Dune lead to a dispersion of talent that went on to fertilize many important sci fi projects.  We see the echoes of Jodorowsky’s Dune in Star Wars, Alien, Prometheus, and Blade Runner among many important sci fi movies.  And it’s not that Lucas or Scott stole ideas from Jodorowsky but that the talent that worked on those later projects developed its vision from Jodorowsky’s prophetic leadership. 

It’s in describing this relationship that the important value, and pleasure, of Jodorowsky’s Dune lies.

July 1: The Freshman (1925 -- Fred C. Newmeyer & Sam Taylor)

★★★★

In a time that filmmakers would use melodrama to engage its audience, Lloyd created one of his most affective films in The Freshman.  It’s impossible not to empathize with Harold Lamb here.  The freshman is an archetypal American figure: optimistic, determined, and naïve.  Set upon becoming the Big Man on Campus, the hard-working Harold soon finds himself being abused by a jaded clique of college students who fake their like for him in order to trick him into using his limited money to buy them ice cream and sponsor a party.  Because of his naiveté, Harold doesn’t realize the ruse as they laugh at his jokes, imitate him, and pursue him to dance with; in fact, the group is mocking him to his very face in all these situations.  As Harold obliviously allows himself to be used by these people, our sympathy for him builds, stoked even further by comic misadventures like his unraveling suit and his role as the tackle dummy at football practice.  Our involvement climaxes when the angry Cad reveals the ruse to Harold, who tries to keep on a brave face before he breaks down into tears.  It’s inconceivable that Harold Lloyd at one time wanted to delete the crying scene from the film since this is the moment of our most intense involvement with the character.

The big ending of The Freshman has its own hooks.  Credit much of the success of this concluding episode to Pat Harmon as the Football Coach.  Harmon’s Coach is a bull of a man, prone to very physical expressions of his emotions like throwing his hands in the air, running in circles and bending over as if to beat the earth itself.  As his bench gets slimmer, the bad-tempered, stubborn man adamantly refuses to let Harold play even as the clock is running out and the refs are telling him he’ll have to forfeit.  His players can’t convince him to run Harold in and, as he fusses and fumes on the sidelines, Harmon takes the tension in the film to a new peak.  The Coach is also responsible for one last cruel joke on Harold, sending the eager sub in only to change sweaters with one of the other players.

But Harold finally gets to play, and as the seconds tick away, he almost saves the game and then quickly loses it again, with intercuts to the Coach’s sideline reactions building pressure at each shift and getting us more invested in the action.  Of course, this is a comedy and Harold is ultimately able to pull off a victory for Tate thanks to the same determination and optimism he brought to the school at the beginning of the film.  And he gets the girl.  But we've been put though an emotion ringer in getting there.

It’s The Freshman’s engagement with the audience that makes this comedy so strong.  The humor is cute, but it also develops the character and adds to the audience’s involvement in what’s happening.  If Lloyd's films break down in “thrill” and “character” categories, The Freshman is clearly in the latter.  The personality of Lloyd’s Harold is the spring that drives this movie and that keeps us in it.